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#jungkook x reader
jungkxook · 6 months ago
—hot boy bummer. (m)
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⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 
⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut  
⟶ words: 14,633
⟶ rating: 18+ 
⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?
⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink
⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook​ and @onherwings​ for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛
( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )
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Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.
Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.
College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.
But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.
“What if we, like, had sex?”
Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.
After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”
“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”
“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.
Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”
You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”
“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”
“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”
“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”
“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”
“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”
“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”
The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.
Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.
“But it’s not like you’re any better.”
This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”
“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”
Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.
“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”
A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”
“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”
A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.
“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”
“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”
You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.
The cons? He’s your best friend.
The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.
Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.
“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”
“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”
“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”
“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”
Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”
“It’s true though.”
“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”
“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”
But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”
As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”
“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”
“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”
“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”
Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?
You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.
The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.
“Touch me?”
Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.
Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.
“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”
But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”
“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”
“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.
You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.
“Like this?” You rasp.
“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”
“No. Do you?”
“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”
“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.
“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”
He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?  
He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.
“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.
The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.
“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”
And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.
But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.
So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.
Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.
A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?
Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.
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“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”
Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.
Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.
You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.
“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”
More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”
“Want a minute?”
Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.
“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”
Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”
“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.
“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”
“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”
“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”
Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”
“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”
“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”
“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”
“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”
“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”
Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.
“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”
Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”
He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”
Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”
“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”
“Who have sex from time to time.”
He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”
“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.
“We might?”
“No, we definitely won’t.”
Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.
After all, what are best friends for?
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So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.
A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.
It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).
But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.
It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.
Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.
Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”
There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).
But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.
As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.
“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”
“You know him?”
“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”
“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”
You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”
At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”
“You’re not jealous, are you?”
“No, why would I be jealous?”
You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.
So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?
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“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”
Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”
“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”
Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.
It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.
“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”
“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”
Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”
Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.
He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.
“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”
The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.
Fuck it, you cave.
You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.
“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”
That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.
“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”
Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.
“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.
You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.  
“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”
Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.
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From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.
bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??
You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.
That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.
Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.
Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.
“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”
The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.
“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”
The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”
“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.
From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.
send n00ds?
miss ur tits :(
Typical Jungkook.
The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”
“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”
“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”
You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?
You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.
But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.
You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”
“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”
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“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”
Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.
It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.
“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.
Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.
“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”
“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.
“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.
“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”
He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.
“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.
At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.
“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”
Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”
“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”
“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”
“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”
“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”
You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.
“Nngh, Jungkook━”
Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.
God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.
And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.
You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”
“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”
In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.
A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”
You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”
“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”
That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.
“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”
“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”
A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”
It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.
Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.
That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.
And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.
He smiles.
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The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.
But that’s neither here nor there.
Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.
For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.
“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”
Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”
“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.
You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━
It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.
“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.
“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”
“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”
The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”
But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”
You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”
You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”
“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”
“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”
“But you wanna.”
“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”
He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.
“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.
He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.
“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”
He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.
You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?
A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.
Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”
“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.
So then why does it feel like he is?
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When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.
A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?
You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.
Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”
“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”
You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.
“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”
“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”
You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.
You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”
“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”
“And you said you didn’t want to.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”
“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”
A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”
Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”
“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”
“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”
Jungkook flinches. “I know.”
“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”
“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.
“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”
“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.
“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”
The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”
“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”
Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━
“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”
The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”
The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.
Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.
It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.
Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.
Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”
Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”
Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”
Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”
You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.
“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”
“Oh, Koo…”
A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.
He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”
“Don’t say that,” You whine.
“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”
“You already have.”
“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”
“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”
“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.
“Yeah,” You mewl.
“What do you want from me?”
“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”
He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls.
You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.
“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.
He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.
“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”
You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.
So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.
“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”
He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.
“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”
With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.
A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”
“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”
A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.
“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”
“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”
Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”
“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”
“No,” You croak.
You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.
“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”
“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”
“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”
His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.
Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”
You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”
“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”
You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.
Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”
“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”
Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”
Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.
“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”
As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”
You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.
When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.
It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.
He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”
A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”
“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”
It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”
Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”
His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”
So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.
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It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.
Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━
“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”
The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.
“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”
He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”
You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”
“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”
“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.
A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”
Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.
Because he wants it all with you.
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junghelioseok · 7 months ago
it takes two.
↳ struggling with the idea of your ex-boyfriend moving on, you enlist the help of your quiet roommate in a scheme that quickly spirals out of control.
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◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fake dating!au | roommate!au  ◇ 29.8k [1/1]
⇢ full (and by full, i mean less vague) summary: you don’t need retrospect to tell you that dating a coworker was a bad idea. two months after your breakup, he seems to have moved on to someone new—and quite happily, if his social media is to be believed. meanwhile, the only new thing in your life is your roommate, jungkook, who seems nice enough. just nice enough to coax into coming to your company’s annual holiday party, and more than handsome enough to show off a little bit. or, as it turns out, a lot.
notes: my contribution to the once upon a holiday... collab with the lovely @underthejoon​, @fantasybangtan​, @kpopfanfictrash​, @lamourche​, @hobidreams​, and @suga-kookiemonster​! shoutout to @bendthekneetobangtan​ as well, who is the best cheerleader of all time 💕
warnings: this fic is just 3 (dozen) tropes in a trenchcoat, aNd ThEy WeRe RoOmAtEs, slow burn, one (1) awkward boner, tatted!kook, long-haired!kook, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, jk’s big dick, squirting. not as edited as i would like but oh well 🤷🏻‍♀️
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You feel sick.
Your heart stutters in your chest, missing two whole beats before taking off into a strident gallop that hammers dangerously against the slats of your ribcage. Warmth rushes to your cheeks, unbidden, and spreads through your veins like wildfire. Sour bile rises up in your throat, and no matter how you try to swallow it down, it refuses to dissipate—just like the photograph lighting up your phone screen.
The photograph of your ex-boyfriend, his face creased into that familiar dimpled smile and his arm wrapped snugly around his new girlfriend.
Maybe you’re being dramatic, but you imagine that this is what it feels like to witness a car accident or watch a building go up in flames. The sight is horrific, your heart twisting painfully in on itself, and yet you can’t tear yourself away. It’s only when your phone begins to buzz in your hand, the sound loud as a gunshot in the silence, that you break out of your trance. Your best friend’s grinning face eclipses that of your ex-boyfriend and his companion, and you take a moment to gather yourself before swiping to answer.
“Hi, Minnie,” you sigh into the receiver. “What’s up?”
Your best friend, as always, forgoes all preamble. “Did you see it?”
Resignedly, you plop down in one of the chairs in the dining room, propping your chin in your palm. “I saw,” you confirm, your voice small.
Jimin grunts. “Good, because I have thoughts,” he declares bluntly. “She’s not even as pretty as you. And her fashion sense? Atrocious. A crime against humanity. Probably a violation of the Geneva Convention, too. And if not, it should be.”
He’s trying to make you feel better, and you know it. Throughout your years of friendship, Jimin has always been the one to pull you out of the dark places you occasionally find yourself lost in, dragging you out of your spiraling misery and keeping you sane. But today, you’re unwilling to let him drag you out.
Today, you want to wallow.
“She looks nice,” you mumble, putting him on speaker and thumbing back over to the photograph. “Cute, too. I guess it was just a matter of time before he moved on, huh?”
On the other end of the line, Jimin clicks his tongue. “It’s been, what, two months? I say good riddance. Throw the whole man away.”
You snort. “Pretty hard to do when you work with the guy. And please—don’t lecture me again. I know dating a coworker was a bad idea, okay?”
Jimin sighs, and even without seeing him, you know he’s running a frazzled hand through his hair. “Fine, fine. I won’t. But what are you gonna do about the party?”
There it is—the question you’ve been dreading. Every year, your company throws a lavish holiday party, renting out space in one of the fanciest hotels in the city and filling it full of drinks, food, and general merriment. You, like the rest of your colleagues, look forward to it all year, and this Christmas marks your fourth company party. But now that Namjoon won’t be by your side for the festivities, your heart sinks down to somewhere around your toes. “I don’t know yet,” you admit. “Do you think he’ll bring her?”
“Probably,” Jimin answers honestly. “Will you be okay if he does?”
You exhale heavily and wake your phone screen, staring wistfully down at Namjoon’s smiling face. “I don’t know,” you repeat. “Maybe I should just skip.”
Jimin snorts. “What, and wallow in your own misery all night? Absolutely not. You still have a few weeks, right? That’s enough time to secure a hot date to the stupid thing. Show him that you’re not the only one who’s moved on.”
It’s your turn to snort. “You know I’m not ready to start dating again,” you tell him bluntly. “Or have you forgotten about my plan to move to the forest and live with a dozen cats? Why don’t you just come to the party with me instead?”
He hums thoughtfully. “Namjoon knows me, though. You need to go with someone he doesn’t know—someone that will make him wonder. Someone like—”
The front door opens with a bang, cutting Jimin off mid-sentence and revealing your roommate standing in the entryway with flushed cheeks and a sheepish grin. “Hi,” he says, checking the wall behind the door to make sure it hasn’t been dented. “Sorry about that. It’s really windy outside.”
“Is that Jungkook?” Jimin’s voice filters through the speaker. “Hey, Jungkook!”
Jungkook looks at you and mouths, Jimin? When you nod, he chuckles and pulls off his black beanie, raking a tattooed hand through his tousled hair. He’s clearly just returned from a run, his cheeks flushed from exertion and cold, and you flash him a small smile as he grabs a clean glass from the cabinet and fills it to the brim with water from the sink. “Hey, Jimin,” he says after he takes a long gulp. “What are you two up to?”
“Dastardly schemes, among other things,” Jimin says breezily, the smile evident in his voice. “We were just talking about you, actually.”
You frown, confused. Jungkook’s brows disappear behind the shaggy fringe falling across his forehead, and you meet his curious gaze and shrug before looking back at the device in your hand. “We were?”
Even through the phone, you can sense the smugness radiating off of your best friend. “Of course we were. Namjoon might know me, but he sure as hell doesn’t know Jungkook. It’s perfect.”
There’s a beat of silence as the meaning behind his words sinks in, and then your jaw drops. “Jimin, no! Are you insane?”
“Only a little bit,” Jimin replies. “But I’m also right. It’s a good idea, and you know it.”
“It’s a terrible idea, and you know it,” you retort, slapping a hand to your forehead.
From his spot in the kitchen, Jungkook raises his hand, looking thoroughly perturbed and still holding half a glass of water. “Um, hello? Does someone want to fill me in here?”
“Sure, dude,” Jimin replies. “{Name} wants you to be her fake date to a party. You in?”
You nearly fall out of your chair. “That’s not—! You can’t just—oh my god, Jimin.” Spluttering helplessly, you cast your roommate a beseeching look. “Jungkook. You went to college with Jimin, so I don’t have to apologize for his insane behavior, right? Please. Please don’t listen to him.”
“Au contraire, you should listen to me,” Jimin cuts in, sounding affronted. “I don’t see you coming up with a better idea.”
You throw your hands up in the air. “I was just going to skip!”
“Lame,” Jimin snorts. “Not to mention cowardly. Don’t you want to get back at Namjoon?”
“It’s not high on my list of priorities, no!”
“Huh. Well then. Jungkook, how would you like a free dinner two Saturdays from now?”
Jungkook, who has been following your conversation with an expression caught somewhere between bemusement and amusement, visibly perks up at the mention of food. “Dinner?”
“Okay, no.” Dropping your phone down onto the kitchen counter, you wave your hands in protest. “Everyone needs to hang on and take a big fucking step backwards. This is an insane idea. Actually, it’s barely even an idea. It’s terrible, and I’m not doing it.”
When Jimin speaks again, you’re positive that he’s rolling his eyes. “Why not? Give me one good reason. The two of you live together, anyway, so you’re either going to get drunk at the house with Jungkook, or you’re going to go to a super fun party and get drunk with Jungkook. Why wouldn’t you choose the free party?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because my ex-boyfriend is going to be at the free party?” You huff. “Besides, I’m sure Jungkook doesn’t want to come. He probably has way better things to do.”
“Um.” Jungkook raises his hand again. “I’m still here, you know.”
Emboldened, Jimin starts addressing him directly. “Free dinner and free booze, Jungkook,” he says. “And {Name}’ll do all the dishes for a month.”
“I am absolutely not going to do that,” you cut in, but your best friend pays you no mind.
“So? Whaddaya think?”
Jungkook shrugs, his gaze flitting over to you tentatively. “I don’t really have anything else going on that day,” he admits slowly. “So, sure. Why not?”
It’s a wonder your jaw hasn’t detached entirely by the end of his casual acquiescence. “Jungkook—” you begin, but the words to finish your sentence prove evasive. Your roommate is painfully handsome—you’d have to be blind not to see that. The sweatshirt he’s wearing runs about three sizes too big, but his black joggers leave very little to the imagination and it’s near impossible not to notice the definition of his thighs beneath the fleecy material. Jungkook takes tall, dark, and handsome to a whole new level—and his inky tattoos and obvious athleticism are the bright ribbon that ties the whole package together.
And it would be so easy to instill jealousy in your ex by bringing Jungkook to the holiday party. It would be the easiest thing in the world.
“Are you sure?” you finally croak.
Jungkook offers you a crooked little smile—one that shows off his adorably prominent front teeth and dimples one of his cheeks. “I’m not really one to turn down free food and booze.”
On the other end of the line, Jimin claps his hands in delight. “It’s settled, then,” he crows. “Should we seal the deal with a kiss, or—?”
You jab at the screen of your phone, missing the end call button several times before finally finding your mark. “Goodbye, Jimin.”
The line goes dead, and in the absence of your best friend’s laughter, the silence that falls over you and Jungkook is deafening. “I can’t believe you want to come to this party,” you say at last, breaking the lull when it finally becomes too much. “It’s not too late to back out, you know. Jimin will never know.”
Jungkook shrugs—his shoulders shifting beneath his baggy black sweatshirt. “Like I said, I don’t have anything else going on. Besides, Jimin’s actually right for once. You should go. Just because your ex will be there doesn’t mean you have to miss out on a fancy work perk.” Then he grins. “Plus, I’m pretty sure I can nail this fake date thing. I’ll hold your hand and laugh at all your jokes.”
His grin is infectious, you realize, as your lips begin tugging upward at the corners. “Well consider me sold,” you tell him. “You’re hired, Jeon.” Reaching out, you extend a hand for him to shake.
Jungkook laughs and takes it, his warm fingers curling around yours. “Then it’s a date.”
“So, I think we should lay down some ground rules.”
It’s barely ten in the morning, and Jungkook has clearly just woken up if his drooping lids and petulant frown are any indication. He’s seated at the tall counter that divides the kitchen from the living room, midway through a bowl of cereal, and you watch him blink blearily in your direction as you enter the kitchen and open the fridge. “Mmm,” he hums.
A little over a month into cohabitating with Jeon Jungkook, and you’ve slowly grown more adept at deciphering the half-coherent mumbles he makes before he’s fully cognizant in the mornings. Taking this one as a sign that he is, in fact, listening to what you have to say, you continue. “First off, you’re sworn to secrecy, got it? Jimin’s enough of a blabbermouth as it is, and while I don’t think he’ll tell anyone, I just—” You sigh. “I want to make sure it looks like we’re actually… dating. Namjoon’s on Instagram a lot, so we might want to take a few photos together and post some stuff about each other. And maybe we should… actually go on a date?”
Jungkook looks up from his bowl so quickly you fear he might have snapped his neck, and you immediately backtrack. “It’s totally cool if you don’t want to!” you amend, sticking your head into the fridge and rooting around for some orange juice so you don’t have to look him in the eye. “We can just… I don’t know. Snap a photo every now and then on the way to the grocery store or something. No big deal.”
“Mmmph,” Jungkook says. He swallows his mouthful of cereal, his upper lip painted white, and you silently grab a paper towel from the roll and hand it to him. “Thanks,” he grunts, wiping at his mouth.
There’s a pause—one that lasts several beats until Jungkook breaks it. “We do have to go to the grocery store soon,” he says, jabbing a thumb at the admittedly sad state of your refrigerator. “There’s a park on the way there—you know the one I’m talking about? The one with the fountain?” At your nod, his lips quirk up. “Maybe we can have our fake date there. Take photos, and all that.”
You blink. “Really? You’re willing to do it?”
He shrugs and drops his spoon back into his bowl with a clatter. “Sure. You wanna go today? I still have to shower and get dressed—” he gestures down at his baggy flannel pants and oversized t-shirt, “—but I can be quick.”
“I’ll eat fast,” you agree, grabbing the loaf of bread off the counter and shoving two slices into the toaster. “Leave in an hour?”
Jungkook nods and stands up, rinsing out his bowl and dropping it into the dishwasher. You plop down into his abandoned seat with your breakfast, watching as he masks a yawn with his hand before shuffling back down the hallway to his bedroom and shutting the door behind him. Taking a bite out of your toast, you pull your phone out of your pocket with your free hand and thumb through your latest notifications. Your heart sinks when you see an update from one kimdaily, but you click it open nonetheless, steeling your nerves for what you might see.
The photograph, when it loads, is of Namjoon standing in front of a row of pine trees, his ashy silver hair tucked beneath a black beanie. You barely make it through the caption—something about Christmas tree shopping with his best friend and the love of his life, and how lucky he is that they’re one and the same—before slapping your phone back down onto the counter and willing your racing heart to calm. The bubble of emotion welling up in your chest threatens to burst forth from your throat, and you quickly drain the glass of juice at your elbow before standing up to pour yourself another.
That’s how Jungkook finds you three minutes later—standing at the sink with your glass in hand. His hair is still dripping from the shower, a red towel draped around his neck to catch any stray water droplets, and when he approaches you can smell the vague scent of bergamot wafting your way. He’s dressed in ripped jeans and a blue and gray sweater, and it’s all you can do to return the smile he flashes you as he fishes his black Timberlands out of the hall closet.
“Ready to go?” he asks.
You take a deep breath and set down your glass, nodding. Grabbing your purse from its spot near the door, you shove two reusable canvas grocery bags inside before slipping into your jacket. Jungkook shrugs on his own coat, patting his pockets to check for his wallet and keys, and, upon verifying both, gestures for you to exit first so he can lock the door behind the two of you.
There’s a noticeable chill in the air as you step out onto the front steps of your townhouse—a hint of impending winter in every breath you take. The streets aren’t too crowded yet, and you’re grateful for that as you and Jungkook set off in the direction of the grocery store. Inhaling deeply, you let your feet carry you on autopilot as your mind wanders.
“{Name}?” Jungkook’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “We’re here.”
Startled, you glance up—first at him, and then at your surroundings. “This isn’t the store.”
He chuckles. “We’re stopping at the park, remember?” And instead of teasing or making you feel like an idiot, he simply veers off the main sidewalk and onto the meandering cobblestone path that winds through the entirety of the park, cutting through the fading grass and weaving in and out of a grove of trees desperately clinging on to the last of their browning leaves.
For a few minutes, the two of you stroll in silence. Jungkook—though you’ve only known him for a month and a half—is a comfortable presence to be around, and is an exceedingly considerate roommate on top of that. You’d had your qualms back when Jimin introduced him to you as the friend of a friend from university, but your last roommate had just moved out and you were sadly lacking the resources to cover rent by yourself. Jungkook moved in mere weeks after your breakup with Namjoon, and never so much as blinked when you brought a pint of ice cream to bed three nights in a row. And while you aren’t sure that you’d consider him a friend just yet, the potential is certainly there.
Putting aside the current boyfriend ruse, of course.
“Hey,” you murmur as the two of you reach a particularly picturesque curve in the path. “Stand still for a second.”
Jungkook obligingly pauses mid-step, blinking against the morning sunlight before looking up at the phone you’ve angled in his direction. “Picture for the ‘gram?” he asks, and you nod.
It takes a few moments for the camera to focus, but when it does, you snap the photo and zoom in to take a closer look. Jungkook joins you, peering curiously over your shoulder, and you tilt the screen so he can see better. “What do you think? Not bad, right?”
“Not bad,” he replies, and you take that as approval to make your post. Opening up Instagram, you worry your bottom lip for a moment before tapping a few keys.
“How’s that?” you ask once you’ve posted the photo, showing him your screen. Simultaneously, Jungkook’s own phone buzzes in his pocket with a notification.
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“Nice hashtag,” he remarks, chuckling. “Can we talk about how terrible the last season of that show was, though?”
“Oh my god, yes,” you reply, throwing your hands up into the air. “Shall I start? What was up with Jon and Dany, anyway?”
Ten minutes later, you arrive at the grocery store, still fuming about the Lannister siblings’ nonsensical demise as you enter through the sliding automatic doors. Jungkook grabs a cart, and you follow after him as he pushes it past the display of bananas right at the entrance. “Need any fruit?” he asks.
You nod, picking out a few apples from a nearby pile and placing them gingerly in a bag. “We’re running low on onions and garlic; can you grab those? I’ll meet up with you in the dairy aisle once I’m done here.”
Obediently, Jungkook trots off, leaving you with the cart. You take your time perusing the remainder of the fruit section, carefully picking out what you want, and you’re just about to move on to the vegetables when your phone buzzes.
[11:21am] Jungkook: almost forgot, can you grab a few oranges and some spinach for me?
You text back in the affirmative and tuck your phone back into your pocket. By the time you finally make it to the dairy aisle, Jungkook is already there, holding a full gallon of milk and touting a half-filled basket that has significantly more in it than just onions and garlic.
“What else did you get?” you ask curiously.
He shrugs. “Bread, cheese. Some cold brew.”
You wouldn’t have pinned your dark-haired, dark-clothed, and tattooed roommate as a french vanilla kind of guy, but the little blue label on the bottle is impossible to dispute. The sight has your lips curling up at the edges, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow when he spots your expression.
Still smiling, you shake your head. “It’s nothing.”
Several days pass before your next excursion—as you’ve taken to calling them—with Jungkook. The weather forecast predicted overcast skies and scattered showers this morning, but neither of those matter where you’re currently standing, waiting in line to get your shoes. Behind you, a raucous cheer goes up as a mess of bowling pins crashes to the ground.
When you return to your designated lane, Jungkook has already slipped out of his black Timberlands and is waiting for you in socked feet, wiggling his toes in the pinstriped wool. They’re a stark contrast to the rest of his black ensemble, a matching black baseball cap perched atop his wavy hair, and you raise an eyebrow at the sight. “Are those candy cane socks?” you ask in amazement, and Jungkook grins and nods in affirmation.
A burst of laughter escapes you, high and bright in the neon air. The bowling alley rings with the sounds of clattering pins, the entire room smelling of pizza grease and whatever wax they use on the lanes, but all of that fades into the background as you and Jungkook lace up your shoes and pick out your bowling balls. “So, how good are you at bowling, anyway?” you ask, settling on a deep blue ball that’s marbled through with white and silver like a tiny galaxy.
Jungkook hefts his own ball—hot bubblegum pink flecked with varying shades of the same color—and flashes you a mischievous grin. “Why don’t we start playing and find out?”
Suspiciously, you narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t like the sound of that.” Nonetheless, you take your spot at the top of the lane, turning around to watch as Jungkook inputs your names into the computer that monitors your score. “Ready?”
Jungkook gives you a double thumbs-up. “Ready.”
It’s been many years since you’ve last gone bowling. Your fingers feel awkward in the holes, and the weight of the ball is unwieldy against your open palm. Steeling yourself, you take a few steps forward before releasing the ball, watching as it rolls laboriously down the lane. It veers off course halfway down, and you shake your head as it takes out a single pin at the very corner of the formation.
“Well,” you remark, turning back to face your companion, “at least I didn’t embarrass myself completely with a gutter ball.”
Jungkook laughs. “Hey, look on the bright side. Maybe you’ll get a spare.”
“Maybe that’s wishful thinking,” you retort, reclaiming your ball from the machine and rolling it down the lane once more. This time, it stays on course, knocking over four more pins, and you sigh as you plop down onto the chair next to Jungkook. “In my defense, I was probably fourteen the last time I went bowling.” you tell him. “Your turn.”
Jungkook is already halfway out of his seat. He grabs his pink ball and comes to a stop in the center of the lane, and you watch as he rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath, standing deathly still for one long, lingering moment. Then he’s stepping off, his strides as quick as they are smooth, throwing his leg and arm out to one side just before he rears back and releases his bowling ball.
And all the pins at the end of the lane come crashing down, because of course they do.
“Guess that’s a strike,” Jungkook says, glancing back at you. He’s fighting a smile, his lips twitching at the corners, and you fix him with a mock glare as he takes a seat beside you once more.
“So this is why you suggested bowling. You’re some kind of pro.”
“Hey, that’s not true,” he protests, the irrepressible smile finally breaking across his face. “I’ll teach you, if you want. It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”
“Easy for you to say,” you grumble, just loud enough so that he can hear you over the raucous bowling alley noise. Still, you follow after him as he stands up to retrieve your ball, and accept it when he hands it over. He grabs his own ball as well, and motions for you to watch closely as he slowly mimes out the motions of his step and release method.
“Make sense?” he asks once he’s finished, straightening back up to his full height.
You frown. “I’m not sure, honestly. I still don’t really understand how your leg ends up where it does.”
“You mean this?” Jungkook crouches down and sweeps his leg backward again, throwing his arm out for balance as well. When you nod, he hums in understanding and sets his ball down. “Here, maybe it’ll help if I walk you through it. May I?”
His palm is mere inches from your shoulder, and you realize, with a start, that he’s asking for permission to touch you. The thoughtfulness of the gesture has your heart pounding, skipping several beats before racing to catch up.
“Sure,” you say once your heartbeat has settled back into an even cadence. “I guess you can try to make me a better bowler. Don’t think you’ll have much luck, though.”
That earns you a chuckle, his breath hot against the nape of your neck as he steps behind you and gently taps your arm. “Can’t fault a guy for trying,” he says. “Here, step off on this side, okay? You can hold the ball with both hands right now, but you’ll want to start pulling it back around the second step or so.”
You take one step forward and raise your opposite foot to take a second. “Like this?”
“Yeah,” he confirms, his voice soft. He’s close enough to prickle your skin with gooseflesh by this point, moving with you to guide each of your motions, and your breath hitches when he reaches around you to grasp your hand in his larger one. “Now pull your arm back, like this. You want all the momentum you can get.”
“Right,” you whisper, letting him take the lead. His chest is nearly flush with your back, his lips at your ear, and your cheeks warm as he gently urges your arm back, his fingers winding around your wrist until the pad of his thumb presses against your pulsepoint. His free hand finds the elbow of your other arm, nudging it outward to help you maintain your balance as you swing forward to release the ball. Vaguely, you wonder if he can feel the sudden uptick in your heart rate.
“Here’s where the leg comes in,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, drawing you out of your thoughts. “Sweep it back and to the side like—yeah, exactly like that! Nice.”
Without warning, Jungkook steps back, and you very nearly lose your balance when the warmth of his body disappears. Luckily, you’ve already let go of the bowling ball by then, and its trajectory remains unimpacted by your stumble. Eight pins tumble to the ground, and you let out a delighted cheer as your ball disappears into the depths and begins its unseen journey back to you. “Did you see that?” you ask, whirling around to look at Jungkook. “Eight!”
Jungkook is already on his way over to give you a congratulatory high-five, his eyes sparkling in the neon glow of the bowling alley and his face lit up with a grin. “That was awesome,” he says. “Now, why don’t we see if you can get those other two pins?”
If picking up spares is an art form, then Jeon Jungkook is Pablo Picasso. No matter how many pins he knocks down in the first frame, he always manages to get the rest in the second, and you watch on in amazement as his score crawls ever higher, aided by two strikes in a row. “One forty-six,” you sigh, shaking your head at him as he plops down into his chair and throws back a giant sip of soda. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Eighty isn’t a bad score,” Jungkook replies, trying and failing to hide a satisfied grin as he recaps his bottle. “Really.”
“Easy for you to say when you scored sixty-six more points than me,” you retort, sticking out your tongue at him. “Honestly. Who just bowls a one forty-six like it’s nothing?”
Jungkook shrugs and bends down to unlace his shoes. “Three hundred is a perfect score.”
“You say that like you’ve done it before.”
“God, no.” He snorts. “That’s league-level stuff, and even then, it’s hard as fuck. The highest I’ve ever bowled is a one eighty-five.”
Laughing, you reach down to loosen your own laces. “I’d be over the moon if I ever got a score that high. Hell, I’d be happy breaking a hundred.”
“Hey, you were getting pretty good by the end,” he points out, toeing off his bowling shoes and slipping his feet back into his trustworthy Timberlands. “We can come back sometime. Practice a little more.”
“You’re talking about coming back, but I don’t think I can even leave.” Exasperated, you lean back in your seat and stare down at the laces on your shoes, which have somehow gotten tangled up into an enormous knot. The harder you tug, the more it seems to tighten, and you groan when trying to pry the shoe off only results in an ache in your heel. “Ow, goddammit. How does this even happen?”
“It would probably help if you stopped pulling so hard, for starters,” Jungkook says dryly. Dropping down to his knees, he nudges your hands away and replaces them with his own. “Here, quit doing that and let me help. I’m pretty good with knots.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Do I want to know why?”
Jungkook glances up at you with a crooked little smile and a twinkle in his eye. “I was a Boy Scout. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Mmhmm. Sure you were,” you tease.
Thirty seconds later, Jungkook lets out a triumphant little exclamation. The knot in your laces is gone, and you gratefully slip out of the uncomfortable bowling shoes and back into your own boots. Together, the two of you return your footwear to the counter before heading for the exit, the fresh air a welcome change from the smell of frying oil and spilled soda. The sky outside is steadily darkening into evening, a light drizzle dampening the sidewalk at your feet, and you wordlessly pull out your umbrella. Beside you, Jungkook does the same.
The soft pitter-patter of raindrops fills the hush that’s fallen between you as you walk past the myriad maze of downtown shops, a soothing overhead melody as you head back toward your shared home.
A week passes, and after a stressful workday and several forced interactions with your ex-boyfriend, you and Jungkook find yourselves at a rooftop restaurant just a few blocks away from your home. You’re seated beneath a crisscross of string lights that have yet to be turned on, the glass bulbs reflecting the light of the setting sun, and much like your fellow diners, you are looking forward to enjoying the final warm day of the season. Sounds of laughter and chatter fill the open air, intermingling with the soft clink of silverware against plates and backed by the muted hum of traffic from below.
Today marks your third and final excursion with Jungkook, and you fully intend to treat him to a nice dinner as a thank you for the last couple of weeks. He’s been nothing but amenable since agreeing to go along with your scheme, and you’re beyond grateful for his support. You have no doubt that your ex has seen all the photographs you’ve been posting, and wonder what—if anything—Namjoon is thinking.
Then again, you suppose you’ll find out all about that tomorrow. In the meantime, you’ll enjoy a nice meal with your roommate, and maybe a cocktail or two. But first—
“Ready?” you ask, pulling out your phone and thumbing over to the camera.
Jungkook nods. He’s wearing what you recognize as his nice jeans—a faded pair with only one small rip per knee—and coupled them with a collared shirt in deep navy. The first few buttons are undone, a striped tie sitting loosely at the hollow of his throat, and every time he shifts in his seat you’re afforded a glimpse of the black ink that trails along the right side of his clavicle.
“Can you move to the left a little bit?” you ask. “I can barely see your face right now—it’s all shadowy.”
Jungkook complies, leaning slightly and turning his head toward the light. The setting sun illuminates him in hazy gold, lending him an almost ethereal glow, and you snap several photos before you realize you’ve taken way more than you need.
“Good,” you tell him, swallowing thickly. “That’s good. Here, take a look.”
Jungkook peers curiously at your phone, swiping through the photos you’ve taken, and you take the opportunity to sip at your water and gather your wits about you once more.
“So? What do you think?”
“I like this one,” Jungkook says, tapping your screen. You lean over to see the photograph he’s selected, and nod your agreement as he zooms in on it. Opening up Instagram, you create a new post, mulling briefly over the caption before deciding on something simple and hitting post.
You’re forced to put your phone away when your server stops by to take your drink order. Jungkook requests a pint of whatever beer they have on tap, and you decide on the house red—a mild pinot noir. By the time the server departs, your post already has several likes, as well as a comment from Jimin that simply reads: date night? 👉🏻👌🏻👀
You respond with a string of eye roll emojis. Jungkook has pulled out his own phone by this point, and you raise a curious eyebrow when he snorts out a laugh.
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“Jimin?” you ask.
“Jimin,” he confirms with a nod. “I’m half-tempted to respond, but I’m not sure that I’ll come out unscathed.”
“You probably won’t, which means you really shouldn’t. That guy has emoji use down to a science, and it’s usually best to just ignore him—that’s what I do.” Laughing, you pick up your menu and scan the seasonal offerings. “Besides, we have way more important things to talk about, like appetizers. Do you want to share something?”
“Sure,” Jungkook says agreeably, flipping open his own menu and scanning the first page. “What were you thinking?”
“Everything they serve here is delicious, and I’m not even exaggerating,” you tell him as you grab the bottle of water the server left in the middle of the table and reach over to fill his glass. “Dinner’s on me tonight, so pick whatever you want. I’ll even waive my usual two-drink limit.”
Jungkook laughs. “Wow, really? I’m honored.”
“As you should be,” you tell him with a grin.
By the time your drinks arrive, the two of you have decided on your food as well. You take a sip of wine as the server departs again, leaning back in your chair, and let your gaze rove across the surrounding tables for a moment before speaking again.
“So. About tomorrow.”
Jungkook sets his beer down, the glass thumping gently against the wood. “The big day,” he agrees. “What do you need from me?”
His question gives you pause. You’ve known that he was going to act as your party date for weeks now, but you haven’t actually put much consideration into what that would actually entail. Thinking back to past years, you can safely assume that there will be live music, though you can’t remember the name of the band that was listed on your email invitation now. “Can you dance?” you blurt.
Jungkook doesn’t seem fazed by the sudden question. “A little bit,” he answers with a shrug. “Nothing fancy, but I can usually pull off a decent waltz if the occasion calls for it.”
“Even if the occasion calls for you to waltz to a questionable band cover of Despacito?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. Amusement etches its way across Jungkook’s face, his face creasing into a grin, and you suddenly notice that he has a freckle just beneath his bottom lip, just off from the center.
“You’re kidding.”
“I most certainly am not,” you reply, tearing your gaze away from his mouth. “The lead singer didn’t speak a word of Spanish, and the pronunciation was atrocious. I wish you’d heard it.”
“Me too.” Jungkook chuckles. “Any chance they’ll be back this year? Do you think they take requests?”
“Doesn’t hurt to ask,” you reply with a giggle, picking up your wine glass and taking another sip.
The last few rays of golden sunlight disappear beyond the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and red that slowly settle into dusky purples and cloudy blues. Overhead, the string lights turn on, illuminating the table in soft, warm light. Your appetizers arrive, and the server comes around to refill your drinks and bring you a fresh bottle of water.
“Well?” you ask as Jungkook takes his first bite.
“Mmmph,” he replies, his cheeks bulging. You grin, waiting for him to swallow, and he hides his laughter behind his palm as he washes everything down with a swig of water. “You weren’t kidding,” he says, already eyeing the plate for his next mouthful. “That might be the most delicious thing I’ve ever had.”
Pleased, you pick out a morsel of your own and pop it into your mouth. “Told you.”
“I never doubted you for a second,” he replies, picking up his fork in earnest and digging in again.
Comfortable silence settles over the two of you as the meal progresses. You’re halfway through your entrees, having just started a conversation about the merits of toe socks, when your phone buzzes against the wooden table and rattles your silverware against the ceramic of your plate. Picking it up reveals that kimdaily has once again made a post, and your heart does a backflip as you swipe open the notification.
They’re at an arcade. You recognize the venue immediately, having been there once before when you were still the subject of his photographs and social media posts. He’s grinning that dimpled grin that used to warm you from the inside out, his face occupying the entire left side of the photo. In the background, his girlfriend poses with a basketball, the scoreboard above the hoop lit with what must be a new high score.
Jungkook must sense the shift in your mood, because he stops mid-bite to glance up at you with round eyes. “What’s up?”
You let your phone screen go dark, dropping it back onto the table. “It’s nothing,” you tell him, and know you’ve been caught in a lie when his brow immediately furrows.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asks, setting his fork down and wiping at his mouth with a napkin. “Come on, {Name}. What did he post now?”
Wordlessly, you unlock your phone and push it across the table. He scans the photograph quietly, his lips tugging down at the corners, and when he looks up again his expression is solemn.
“I kick ass at that game, you know.”
Taken aback, you blink. “What?”
He nods at the photo. “That basketball game. I’m fucking awesome. The secret is climbing over the divider and getting up close so you make every shot.”
A startled laugh leaves your lips, half amusement and half disbelief. “Are you admitting that you cheat?”
Jungkook shakes his head and taps his temple. “Of course not. I’m saying that I like to think outside the bun.”
Still laughing, you take your phone back and tuck it back into your pocket. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Maybe.” He picks up his abandoned fork to polish off the last of his meal, noisily scraping the plate clean of any lingering sauces. “But at least you’re not sad anymore.”
And he’s right. The realization hits you like a freight train, knocking the air out of your lungs for the span of several heartbeats and then a couple more. You’re sure that you’re gaping a little bit, lips parted to let out words that you haven’t yet formulated, but you’re thankfully spared from responding when the server returns to your table.
“Here’s your dessert,” she says, carefully setting an immaculately decorated plate down in the middle of the table.
Jungkook blinks dumbly as she sets down two clean forks, one on either side. “When did you order pie?”
You blink back, equally confused. “I didn’t. I think this might be a mistake.”
Your server smiles, shaking her head. “Nope, not a mistake. This is from the couple over there in the corner. They asked me to bring you a slice of our apple pie on them, and to wish you a very happy holiday season.”
Curiously, you glance at the indicated couple, as does Jungkook. They’re a man and woman well into their seventies, seated near the edge of the rooftop between a silvery heat lamp and a leafy green plant. Under the glow of the string lights, their gray hair shines like silver, and you can’t help but smile when you see that they’re holding hands across the table. Both of them smile when they catch your eye, and the woman waves cheerily. The man mimes bringing a fork to his mouth—a universal indicator for you to try the dessert they’ve so kindly bought—and you turn back to Jungkook and the sweet cinnamon aroma wafting off of the pie on the table.
“I guess we should eat,” you tell Jungkook, who’s already picked up his fork.
“Guess so,” he agrees, sizing up the slice. “Should we cut it in half? My knife is still clean, I think.”
You hesitate. “I don’t know. We’re supposed to be a couple, and that might look weird. Maybe we should both just try and stick to one side?”
He nods. “Fine by me.” Carefully, he slices through a crusty edge and brings it to his mouth, his eyes going wide before fluttering shut in appreciation. “Oh, wow. That’s incredible.”
Delicately, you bring a forkful to your mouth, savoring the sweetness that coats your tongue. “I told you that everything on the menu is good, didn’t I?”
“You sure did.” Jungkook takes another bite, making sure to stick to his designated half of the pie. “And now, you’ve set a really high bar for tomorrow. I seriously don’t know if this can be topped.”
“The caterers are good, but they aren’t this good,” you tell him. “You’d honestly have a much better meal if you just ditched and came back here instead.”
Jungkook chortles. “Are you trying to talk me out of going to the party the night before it starts? I’m starting to think that you really don’t want me there.”
“It’s not that,” you assure him, picking up your glass of water and taking a sip. “I’m just not looking forward to seeing him. It’s bad enough walking past his cubicle at work, and now I have to socialize? And then there’s his girlfriend, which…” You trail off. “Ugh. I’m pretty sure that meeting your ex’s new partner is one of the circles of hell.”
“It definitely should be, if it isn’t,” Jungkook agrees. Then he jabs a thumb into his chest. “But hey, I’ve got your back, remember? Boyfriend for hire, at your service. I accept payment in all manner of snacks.”
“This dinner should more than cover your fee, then,” you remark with a smile. “So what do you think we should tell everyone tomorrow? What’s our big romantic backstory?”
“Hmm.” Jungkook rubs his chin thoughtfully, staring off into the distance. “We met… at a bowling alley. I’m a league champion, you see, and when I saw you throw three gutter balls in a row, I knew you were a woman after my own heart.”
“Very romantic,” you tell him, laughing. “But you forgot the part where you gallantly fetched an ice pack when I dropped the ball on my toe.”
He slaps a hand to his heart. “How could I? Nursing you back to full health—that was when I fell in love.”
“And then you bowled a perfect three hundred, thanks to me cheering you on,” you add, grinning. “Won a big gold trophy shaped like a bowling pin, and everything.”
He grins back. “Of course. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Nighttime has well and truly fallen now. Far above the glow of the string lights, the moon takes her lofty throne—a silvery crescent bathing the city in pale luminescence. The first stars begin poking through the dark sky—diamond pinpricks against deep velvet—and your breath catches when you meet Jungkook’s gaze and see them all reflected there, as if the very constellations live in his eyes.
“We—” You glance away and clear your throat awkwardly. “We should probably come up with something a little more realistic.”
Jungkook hums in agreement, lingering amusement still creasing his face. “You’re right, they’ll never believe that I bowled a three hundred. Maybe I only bowled a two-ninety.”
Laughing, you reach across the table and thwack him on the forearm. “That’s not what I meant!”
“No?” He flashes you an impish grin. “My bad.”
In the end, you and Jungkook settle on telling people that you met in college—a lie that’s both easy to remember and doesn’t invite too many other questions. “Let’s say that we were in the same writing class,” you tell him, signing the check with a flourish and putting your credit card back into your wallet. “That would make sense, right? Everyone had to take a writing class in my school.”
“Same here,” Jungkook agrees. “There were some pretty fun topics, though. Some focused on pop culture, some focused on theology—I actually took one about writing satire. It was neat.”
You pull a face. “Lucky. I spent a semester analyzing political punditry. It was depressing.”
Jungkook mirrors your expression. “Nothing quite like watching a bunch of men in a room talking over each other,” he remarks, and you nod as he rises to his feet and grabs his black leather jacket off the back of his chair.
Standing up, you slip into your own coat, not even bothering to fasten the buttons. The temperature has dropped since the sun set, but it’s still far from being cold. Jungkook doesn’t zip up his jacket either, and the combination of the black leather layered over his loosely knotted tie and collared shirt does something funny to your insides.
“We should go thank that couple for the dessert,” you mumble, suddenly feeling shy, when someone lays a gentle hand on your forearm.
“Sorry to startle you, dear.” The gray-haired woman is standing there with a kind smile, her eyes twinkling behind gold-rimmed glasses. She casts a glance back at her husband, who’s seated at the table and in the process of paying their bill. “I do hope you enjoyed the pie tonight. It’s always been our favorite thing here.”
You lay your hand atop hers, returning her smile with one of your own. “It was delicious, thank you so much. You really shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble.”
The woman laughs. “Oh, nonsense, dear—we wanted to do it. You two make a lovely couple. In fact, you remind me a little bit of us, back when we were young.”
Cheeks warming, you glance over at Jungkook, whose ears have turned pink. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “You’re too kind.”
She just smiles again, taking his tattooed hand in both of hers and giving it a squeeze. Then she turns back to you and pulls you close, lowering her voice so that only you are privy to her next words.
“There’s nothing quite like a man who can make you laugh,” she whispers. “Hang on tight to this one, dear. He’s one of the good ones.”
You don’t get a chance to answer, or ask her for clarification. She turns on her heel and returns to her husband before you can even stammer out a single syllable, leaving you alone with a curious Jungkook and a small horde of butterflies fluttering in your belly.
“What was that all about?” he asks.
You take him in—his wavy hair parted across his forehead, his silver hoop earrings peeking out from amongst the dark strands. You take in the black leather of his jacket and the messy knot of the tie at his throat.
“It was nothing,” you tell him, laying a hand on his shoulder and giving him a soft push toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go back home.”
In the two months that you’ve now lived with Jeon Jungkook, you’ve come to several realizations. The first is that he’s near impossible to wake up when he really puts his mind to it—something you’re grateful for when you’re making a racket in your rush to get to work on time in the mornings. The second is that he’s a very mediocre cook, and subsists mostly on ramen, cereal, and the occasional pizza delivery.
And the third—which is completely unfair, considering his aforementioned diet—is that he is insanely, almost painfully attractive.
Jungkook cuts a striking figure, even amidst the dozens of formally dressed people lingering in and around the entrance to the hotel. He’s wearing all black as he so often does, but he’s exchanged his favorite baggy sweats for a fitted turtleneck and a tailored suit that you’d watched him dig out of the very back of his closet just a few hours prior. A silver belt buckle breaks his monochrome silhouette, matching the silver hoops and the single dangling chain in his ears. His dark hair, normally loose and shaggy or gathered up at his crown, has been swept back and slicked with gel to expose his undercut. Already, your entrance has garnered a few stares from your nosier colleagues, and you tighten your grip on Jungkook’s arm as you pass through the garland-wrapped doorway that leads into the ballroom.
Crystal chandeliers glimmer overhead like diamonds, suffusing the room in warm, effervescent light. Round tables draped in white linen are scattered throughout, the cutlery and glassware sparkling. A low stage rises up at the opposite end of the room, atop which the band is playing an upbeat holiday medley. Just beside the entrance sits a long rectangular table draped in the same linen as the rest, and Jungkook peers curiously at the little silver bags lining it in neat rows.
“Are these goody bags?” he asks, reaching out to peek inside the nearest one.
“Don’t,” you advise him before he can pick it up. “Unless you want a shitty water bottle and a keychain that unintentionally looks like a penis.”
Jungkook laughs and retracts his hand. “I’ve been on the lookout for a penis keychain, as a matter of fact.”
“Guess I know what to get you for Christmas, then.”
He chuckles. “Can’t wait. But in the meantime—” Jungkook glances left and right, before grabbing one of the silver bags and emptying its contents into its neighbor. Then he grabs a fistful of assorted candy from the crystal bowl at the very end of the table, filling up the bag to the brim and leaving you giggling in dumbfounded amazement.
Gradually, the two of you pick your way over to the open bar. People stop to greet you and chat, casting curious looks at the man beside you, but Jungkook plays the role of new boyfriend perfectly and his friendly smile never once wavers. News of your breakup with Namjoon has no doubt made it down, up, and through the grapevine, but everyone seems to be wise enough not to press the matter. Well wishes are exchanged, and you and Jungkook move on, getting your drinks and seeking about for an empty table.
“Looking for somewhere to sit?”
The voice comes from behind you, as deep as it is familiar, and you freeze midway through sipping your wine. Jungkook seems to sense your sudden apprehension as well, his arm tensing up in yours, and you instinctively pull him closer as you turn to face the speaker.
“Namjoon,” you murmur, thanking all your lucky stars that your voice comes out steady. “Hi.”
Your ex-boyfriend stands there, just as tall and handsome as you remember with his ashy hair swept back and off his forehead. He’s wearing a steely blue waistcoat and a matching jacket, paired with black slacks and a deep navy tie that you’re certain he didn’t knot himself. And though the sight of him is devastating, when he grins his trademark dimpled grin, your poorly mended heart does a backflip and flops straight into your churning stomach.
Jungkook, thankfully, is much more articulate than you are in your current state. Stepping forward, he extends a hand for Namjoon to shake, a genial smile creasing his face. “I’m Jungkook,” he says, his gaze flitting over to you for a brief second before he levels it up at Namjoon once again. “{Name}’s told me a lot about you.”
Namjoon’s grin fades into a polite smile as he accepts the proffered handshake, sizing the other man up. “All good things, I hope,” he says at last. “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”
“The pleasure’s mine,” Jungkook replies evenly, before pulling back and looking at you. “But we really should be finding somewhere to sit. It looks like the party’s gonna get started soon, babe.”
Your throat goes dry at the term of endearment. “Right,” you manage, swallowing down what little saliva is in your mouth. “We should.”
“Hey, why don’t you come sit with us?” Namjoon gestures at the table behind him where a young woman is seated with her back to you, chatting animatedly with a waiter. “We’ve got plenty of room.” And before you can even open your mouth to protest, he’s ushering both of you toward a pair of empty chairs, clapping Jungkook on the back when he gracefully steps between you to take the seat next to your ex-boyfriend.
“Yo, {Name}!” Another familiar voice sounds from behind you—this one much more welcome. You turn to see your favorite work friend, Taehyung, approaching you with his longtime girlfriend—the two of them dressed in color coordinated outfits and wearing matching necklaces that look and twinkle like strings of multicolored holiday lights.
“Tae!” you exclaim, rising to your feet to give him a hug. “And Allie—hi! It’s been way too long!”
“No kidding!” Allie glares playfully at her boyfriend. “Tae’s trying to keep you all to himself, but I’m not going to let that happen. When are you free? We should grab coffee sometime.”
“Absolutely,” you promise. “As soon as all the holiday craziness is over, I’ll be sure to text you. Have you tried the new place on 17th and Main yet?”
“No, but I’ve been dying to!” Allie exclaims. “That settles it—we’re going. No boys allowed.”
“Deal,” you laugh.
With Taehyung and Allie, your table is now full. Namjoon introduces everyone to his girlfriend, Mia—a curly-haired brunette who is just as bubbly and warm as the photos make her seem, and is completely impossible not to like. You, likewise, introduce Jungkook to the table, doing your best to avoid Namjoon’s gaze as you lay a hand on Jungkook’s arm.
“Gosh, you guys are cute,” Mia gushes. “How did you meet?”
Your rehearsed answer comes easily. “We met our freshman year of college.”
“We were in the same writing class our sophomore year,” Jungkook says at the same time, wincing when he realizes what just happened. “I mean—“
“We met freshman year, but we didn’t really get to know each other until later,” you clarify quickly, kicking his foot underneath the table. “A few months ago, we reconnected, and, well…” You glance over at him, mustering up the most genuine smile you can. “Here we are.”
Mia smiles and takes Namjoon’s hand, her fingers twining with his. “That sounds a lot like our story,” she says, nudging him playfully. “We’ve known each other for ages too—since we were kids, actually. But we hadn’t seen each other in years.”
“Then we ran into each other at the grocery store,” Namjoon recalls with a smile, his cheeks dimpling. “Imagine that—something so innocuous. But I guess fate works in mysterious ways.”
Any additional conversation is interrupted by the metallic clinking of a fork against glass, the sound amplified by the microphone set up onstage. The chief executive officer of your company stands there with a gaudy Santa hat perched atop his head, and the room quiets down to listen to him give his welcome speech and wish everyone a happy holiday season. After a toast to a happy, fruitful new year, he beckons you all to raise a glass, and as you do, the waitstaff begin filing out with appetizers.
“Soup and salad?” Jungkook asks, watching one of the waiters walk by with a tray before leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “Damn, they really do pull out all the stops.”
You grin. “I thought you’d be more excited about the open bar.”
“Oh, I am,” he replies, raising his glass and throwing back the remaining whiskey inside. “I’m about to go up there again, actually—you want anything?”
Nodding, you tell him your drink order. Jungkook rises to his feet and asks the rest of the table if he can grab any other drinks, and departs a few seconds later with a promise to Allie that he’ll bring her another glass of chardonnay. A waiter arrives with your food, and you gratefully seize upon the opportunity to avoid further conversation by picking up your fork and shoving some romaine and an herbed crouton into your mouth.
Jungkook returns about five minutes later with drinks in hand, handing Allie her wine before setting your glass in front of you and plopping back down into his seat. “How’s the food?”
Taehyung chuckles. “Don’t bother asking Joon,” he says with a nod at your ex-boyfriend, who’s fiddling with his phone’s camera and angling it strategically above his plate. “He’s still trying to take the perfect photo of his food instead of eating it.”
“Photographs are forever,” Namjoon counters without looking up, his chin jutting out in the way it always does when he’s focused. Then he looks up, a glimmer of mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Speaking of which—everyone, smile!”
You follow the movement of his arm and the subsequent raising of his camera. “That’s really not necessa—” you begin, but you’re cut off by the robotic click of the shutter. “Okay, you’ve already taken it. Great.” Namjoon opens up the photo so he can zoom in and take a closer look, and you turn to Jungkook and offer him a helpless shrug.
You’ve only just swallowed your first spoonful of soup when Namjoon raises his phone again. “Sorry,” he says, sheepish. “Tae blinked, and it looks like you’re talking, {Name}. Mind if we try again?”
“Does it matter if we say no?” you grumble under your breath, just loud enough so that Jungkook overhears and nearly inhales his wine. The six of you settle in for the photo, and you’re immediately drawn to the way Namjoon wraps his free arm around Mia, careful not to weigh on the brown curls cascading down her back.
Jungkook seems to notice your stare, too. Slowly, his arm settles around your shoulders, his palm warm even through the velvety material of your dress. Instinctively, you lean a little closer, a smile curling your lips as you gaze up at the camera lens.
“Nice,” Namjoon declares, checking the photo he’s taken. He shows it to Mia before holding it up so everyone can see, and you have to admit that he’s right—it is nice. The warm golden glow of the brightly lit Christmas tree provides a perfect backdrop, and your smile—no matter how forced it felt—translates on camera as genuine. Beside you, Jungkook is grinning a grin that makes his upper lip disappear, his eyes crinkled into cheery crescents and his arm curled around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The sight is enough to warm your cheeks, and both your heart and lungs suddenly feel far too big for your chest.
The rest of the meal passes in a flurry of conversation and laughter. You’re in the middle of showing off the pockets on your dress when someone taps their fork against a glass once more, clearing their throat for attention.
“That’s our CFO,” you whisper to Jungkook as you twist in your seat. “There’s about a fifty-fifty chance that she’s already drunk off her ass.”
Jungkook follows the trajectory of your gaze to the woman onstage, her hair dyed the color of straw. “If that’s the case, I really need to step up my game. I’m way behind.”
You hide your smile behind your wine glass. “Really? I thought it was your responsibility to make sure I get home safe tonight.”
He winks. “Who says I can’t do both?”
The chief financial officer of your company starts talking, and you and Jungkook settle in to listen. A few more higher-ups follow, giving speeches of their own, before the CEO steps up and declares that the real party can now begin. Overhead, the chandeliers dim. An array of spotlights illuminate the band onstage, and they strike a merry opening chord before bursting into a brassy rendition of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”.
Beside you, Allie lets out an excited whoop and grabs Taehyung by the hand. Together, they whirl off onto the dance floor, their light-up necklaces twin kaleidoscopes of color, leaving you and Jungkook alone at the table with Namjoon and Mia. There’s a brief beat of awkward silence, filled only by the crooning of the lead singer and a jazzy keyboard riff.
And then Jungkook rises to his feet and offers you his palm in an open invitation. “Wanna dance?”
You take his proffered hand and let him pull you out of your chair. “Yeah. I’d love to.”
Hand in hand, the two of you meander through the throng of swaying bodies and find an open spot. Jungkook’s palm finds the curve of your waist, pulling you close, and you settle your hand onto the broad expanse of his shoulder. He’s warm and solid beneath your fingertips, his strong build unmistakable, and when he twines his fingers with yours, you smile.
“This is going much better than I thought it would,” you tell him. “You make a good fake boyfriend.”
Jungkook guides you into a spin, the skirt of your long, burgundy dress billowing outward. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“Good, because it was supposed to be.”
He flashes you a grin. The music changes—slowing to something softer and more intimate—and you let him pull you closer as his palm finds its way to the small of your back. Jungkook gazes down at you like you’re the only thing in the world, and for the briefest of moments, it’s all too easy to forget that this is all just a front—a show to sell to an unwitting audience of one.
“Do… do you think he’s watching?” you ask, tearing your gaze away from the freckle beneath his lip at last and twisting around to look for your ex-boyfriend and his companion. “I don’t see them at the table anymore.”
Jungkook frowns. “I’ll keep an eye out for him,” he promises. “Mia, too.”
You sigh at the mention of her name, equal parts annoyance and resignation. “God, Mia. She’s so fucking nice. I wish I could bring myself to hate her, but I can’t. I mean, you heard their story too, right? Childhood friends? Bumping into each other at the store? It’s straight out of a Hallmark movie. Not to mention all that talk about fate.”
Jungkook shrugs—his shoulder rising and falling beneath your palm. “I dunno—I kinda like the idea of fate. Knowing that you’re on the right path, and that you’re with the right person? It sounds really reassuring.”
You reach out and bat at his dangly silver earring playfully. “The right person? Wow, I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”
Jungkook grabs your hand and fixes you with a mock glare. “Hey, I get a little sentimental during the holidays. Sue me.”
Giggling, you pull out of his grasp and lay your hand back on his shoulder. The night continues, and a few more songs pass—the rhythms quickening and the volume swelling until conversation becomes impossible. Jungkook coaxes you into several more twirls, laughingly steadying you when you almost stumble into a neighboring couple, and you scowl at him mischievously before urging him into a spin of his own.
Eventually, your feet begin to ache in your heels. “Bar?” you ask, leaning in close so that Jungkook can hear you over the music. “My feet need a break.”
“Let’s go,” Jungkook agrees, releasing his grip on your waist. His other hand remains twined with yours, and you readily follow his lead as he weaves a path through the crowd and to the open bar in the corner.
You spend the rest of the evening at the table, chatting and drinking with your dark-haired roommate. The two of you delve into his bag of purloined candy, chocolate and artificial fruit flavors mingling with the alcohol on your tongue, and wine eventually turns into shots of hard liquor. By the time the party begins to wind down, Taehyung has to actively talk you into putting your shoes back on, having already gone through the hard work of retrieving them from under the table where you’d kicked them an hour earlier.
“Quit whining, you big baby,” Taehyung grunts, hauling you to your feet as an amused Allie watches on. “Jeez, I forgot how messy you get when you drink. Jungkook, are you sure you two are okay to get home?”
Jungkook has switched over to drinking water in the last hour, and nods as he knocks back the rest of his glass. “I’m good, don’t worry. I’ll get us back in one piece.”
“Thank god one of you is responsible,” Taehyung grumbles under his breath. You thwack him weakly on the shoulder in retaliation, stumbling slightly in the process, and Taehyung is all too happy to step aside when Jungkook winds a firm arm around your waist to keep you upright.
“Come on, babe,” he says, the words sounding almost affectionate to your inebriated mind. “Let’s get you home.”
Bidding Taehyung and Allie goodbye, Jungkook guides you back through the dance floor and to the entrance of the ballroom, chortling when you blindly grab a silver goody bag off the table. At the coat check, he provides both of your numbers to the attendant, never once relinquishing his grip on you as he waits for her to return. Sluggishly, you let your head fall against his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment’s reprieve from the bright lobby lights.
And then your muddled brain registers what you’d seen just before everything went dark. Jungkook jolts in surprise when you straighten up abruptly, your eyes blinking open, and he quickly follows your gaze over to the far end of the lobby where Namjoon and Mia are slowly making their way toward you.
There’s no doubt that they’re on their way to retrieve their own jackets. Mia already has both plastic cards in her hand, chattering away to her much taller companion, and you watch as he stoops down to hear her better over the hubbub of the other party guests. His cheeks dimple as he smiles at whatever it is she’s said, and your heart lurches unsteadily in your chest.
They’re at the counter of the coat check now, where you can just barely overhear Mia teasing Namjoon about his tendency to misplace things. She hands over their numbered cards before reaching up and poking gently at one of his dimples, and Namjoon bellows out a laugh and catches her by the wrist to tug her close. His fingers trail down and twine with her smaller ones, and when your gaze drops to their interlaced hands, you don’t even notice Jungkook slipping away.
Almost as if he senses your stare, Namjoon suddenly looks up and locks eyes with you. His expression is steady—calm, even—but your heart stutters to a halt at the look all the same. It’s as if someone has drenched you in ice water, and the chill sobers you up in an instant. Jungkook returns to your side, but you don’t pay him any mind, not even when he holds up your coat and tries to help you into it. Namjoon looks away and starts fiddling with his phone, but you don’t miss the way his gaze flits over to you every few seconds, as if checking on something. He’s always been dangerously perceptive, and you, unable to look at him anymore, turn instead to Jungkook and bury your face in his shoulder.
“Jungkook,” you mumble into the fabric of his turtleneck. “He’s watching us. Can you pretend I said something funny?”
Strong hands settle gently on your back, urging you to stand up straight so he can slip your arms into the sleeves of your overcoat. “I’ll do you one better,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin and igniting gooseflesh in its wake.
And then he’s winding his arms around your waist and pulling you in, until your back is flush against his chest and you can feel every breath he takes rising and falling in time to the rhythm of his heart.
If Namjoon glances your way again, you don’t notice. You’re too caught up in Jungkook—the warmth radiating from his skin, the steady beat of his heart, the soft floral scent of the fabric softener that lingers on his clothes. He holds you in his arms until his number is finally called, and when he releases you from his embrace to go fetch his jacket, you’re taken aback by how quickly the cold settles back into your bones.
There’s already a car waiting when you and Jungkook finally exit the hotel, its engine a low hum as it idles at the curb. Jungkook gallantly ushers you into the backseat first before clambering in afterward, and you do your best to ignore the way his thigh brushes repeatedly against yours every time the car turns a corner. For his part, Jungkook seems completely oblivious to the contact—apparently perfectly content to stare out the window at the passing city nightlife. “We made it through,” he remarks, his gaze never once wavering from the outside where snowflakes are beginning to drift down from the velvety black sky.
“Yeah. We did,” you murmur back.
So why, then, does your heart feel like it’s about to hammer its way out of your chest?
“Oh, fuck.”
Even after a night of sleep, your feet still ache. There’s a smudge of mascara on your pillowcase from where you didn’t wash off your makeup properly, and you’re fairly certain there’s a stray bobby pin or two lost somewhere in your hair, prodding harshly at your scalp every time you move. On top of all that, you’re hungover. Your head pounds as you blink against the sunlight filtering in through the crack in the blinds, your mouth as dry as the Sahara and your tongue feeling like sandpaper.
And yet, all of that fades away when you wake your phone screen once more, just to see that nothing has changed. Two new notifications still sit there, taunting you. Both are from your mother, and both, you’ve read and reread six times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming.
[10:45am] Mom: Young lady, just when were you going to mention the new boyfriend?
[10:46am] Mom: Invite him to Christmas, we want to meet him!
For a few long minutes, you can only lay in bed, staring up at the white stucco ceiling and wondering what you can possibly do to remedy the situation. There’s the obvious solution, of course—but you would no doubt face a barrage of questions from your parents about the suddenness of your breakup. As well-meaning as your mother is, she’s never been one for tact, and your father is only the slightest bit more restrained. They’d only just stopped asking about Namjoon a few weeks ago, after all, and that was after you decided to lie and say the breakup was four months ago instead of a mere two.
And then there’s the alternative—bringing Jungkook home to meet your parents over the holidays. Already, you can imagine the prying questions your great aunt will barrage you with, not to mention all the ways your family will compare him—either silently or aloud—to Namjoon. After all, your ex had accompanied you to last year’s festivities, and you aren’t sure whether the sudden nausea bubbling up in your stomach is due to the memories or the hangover relentlessly pounding its erratic drumbeat against your skull.
Wincing, you reluctantly extricate yourself from your tangle of blankets, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed and rising to your feet. The throbbing ache at your temples dulls somewhat when you fix the crack in your blinds, and you pad wearily over to your en suite bathroom, forgoing the light switch and relying on the dimmed daylight that filters in from your bedroom.
It takes a generous swish of mouthwash and several layers of chapstick for you to feel somewhat human again. Pulling on some leggings and an old oversized sweatshirt, you open up your bedroom door and head across the living area to Jungkook’s bedroom, listening outside his door for a few seconds before giving it a tentative knock. You wonder if he’s awake yet.
Your question is answered a moment later, when Jungkook’s voice calls out from within, perfectly clear and lucid. “Come in!”
The first thing you notice when you enter his bedroom is how tidy everything is. Since you started living together, you’ve caught the occasional glimpse inside, but Jungkook tends to keep his door shut for the most part and you haven’t had much reason to enter before now. His bed is perhaps the one thing that stands out, his sheets messily strewn across the mattress, but you take a second to admire the immaculately folded laundry on the ottoman in the corner and the row of neatly hung clothes peeking out from his closet. Then you wander across the room to the desk where your roommate is currently hunched, peering intently at his computer monitor from behind round wire-rimmed glasses that you’ve only seen him don once before.
“Morning,” he says as you come to a stop beside him. “Sorry if I woke you up—my headset broke.”
It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about his video game, which, upon closer inspection, he has turned to the lowest possible volume setting on his computer. “No, that wasn’t it,” you reassure, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “My phone woke me up. That’s why I’m here, actually.”
Jungkook reaches into the pocket of his gray sweatpants, his eyes going wide as he fumbles for his phone. “Oh, shit. I didn’t buttdial you, did I?”
“Nothing like that,” you tell him, chuckling before the seriousness of the situation settles back in. Clearing your throat, you wake your phone screen and read the two messages there for the seventh time before looking up at him again. “It’s, uh. It’s my mom. She saw the photos I’ve been posting of you lately, and… she sorta invited you over. For Christmas.”
Jungkook freezes, his hand still in his pocket. His lips part but no words come out, and you quickly rush to fill the awkward silence with anything and everything that pops into your head.
“You don’t have to come, obviously! It’s honestly a huge ordeal, and even I don’t want to spend an entire weekend with my entire extended family. You know how families can be, right? They’ve all got their own brand of crazy. We can have a messy, public breakup and put this whole thing behind us.” You pause to take a breath, and slap a hand to your forehead in realization. “Wait, what am I even saying? You’re probably visiting your own family over the holidays. Wow. Okay. Just ignore me and forget I said anything. I’ll tell my mom you can’t come.”
Jungkook clears his throat. “Actually, that’s not true. My parents are celebrating their thirty-year anniversary in Bora Bora. They won’t be back until New Year’s, so that’s when I’m going to visit.”
You blink. “Wait, really? Were you planning on spending Christmas alone?”
Jungkook shrugs. “It’s just another day, isn’t it? No big deal.”
“Still.” You shake your head, and wince when the movement only serves to worsen your headache. “You shouldn’t have to spend the holidays alone. If you don’t have anything else going on, well… just know that you have an open invitation to my place. My parents are fantastic cooks, and I don’t want you eating ramen for Christmas dinner.”
Jungkook leans back in his chair and huffs out a chuckle. “You make it sound so depressing.”
“That’s because it is depressing.”
“Fair point.”
You smile at his easy admission, and wave your phone. “So? What do you think? Weekend with my crazy family?”
“Weekend with your crazy family,” Jungkook confirms, and you grin.
“Guess our messy breakup will have to wait, then.”
“Guess so,” he agrees quietly.
Turning on your heel, you exit Jungkook’s bedroom, texting your mom back and confirming your additional guest. Your phone buzzes again just as you hit send, and you curiously navigate over to the new notification to open it.
[11:01am] Jiminnie 🐭: r u alive?
Barely, you write back, rubbing your temples.
[11:02am] Jiminnie 🐭: lmao. k then. brunch in 20? the usual place?
[11:02am] You: yes please.
Two days before the drive to your parents’ house, you finally finish buying all of your Christmas presents. Sprawled out in the middle of the living room floor, you stare beseechingly at the array of gifts, surrounded by a graveyard of unusable wrapping paper shreds. Wrapping presents has never been a strong suit of yours, and you’re teetering on the verge of giving up entirely when your phone begins buzzing insistently from within your pocket.
“Jimin,” you sigh when you see his grinning contact photo filling your screen, swiping to answer the call. “What’s up?”
“Did you get my text?” Jimin asks, not even bothering with a hello.
Confused, you put him on speaker and thumb over to your messages. “Uh, no? I don’t even think my phone went off.”
Jimin curses, and you hear him fumble for a moment before his voice comes through the receiver again. “What about now?”
Your phone vibrates, and you quickly open up the text. “What is this? Are you in a dressing room?” you ask, taking in the attached photographs. The first is of your best friend in a sharp black suit, the black shirt underneath billowy and barely opaque. In the second, he’s wearing dangerously tight jeans and an embellished black leather jacket, layered over a white t-shirt with a familiar brand name boldly emblazoned across the front. “Is that Gucci?”
“Yes and yes,” Jimin answers. “I have that stupid fucking high school reunion over the holidays, remember? Which outfit screams, I’m sexier and more successful than you now? I need a second opinion.”
“A second opinion on which outfit makes your dick look best, you mean,” you grumble. Nonetheless, you open up the first photo again, zooming in on the more intricate details of the outfit and avoiding the bulge near his crotch at all costs. You’re about to switch over to the second when the front door flies open, letting in a blast of icy air and a disheveled looking Jungkook, struggling under the weight of an armful of shopping bags that looks to be about twice his size.
Apparently, you’ve been quiet too long for Jimin’s liking, because his voice filters through the speaker in a petulant whine. “Hello? I sent you my dick. Please respond.”
You’re already halfway to your feet, dropping your phone on the couch in your rush to shut the door. “Stop trying to sext me right now, I don’t need this!” you throw over your shoulder as you relieve your windswept roommate of two shopping bags and set them safely on the ground. Jungkook lowers the rest to the carpeted floor with a heavy sigh, pulling off his beanie and shaking out his hair, and you lock the front door before turning to face him again. “Are you okay?” you ask.
Jungkook nods and offers you a crooked, sheepish grin. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s freezing outside, so I really wanted to get everything inside in one trip.” Then he glances back at where your phone has fallen between the couch cushions, his brows furrowing in concern. “I, uh, didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”
You laugh, walking back over to the couch to fish your phone out. “You’re not interrupting anything, trust me. Jimin’s just trying to decide what to wear to his high school reunion.”
“Really?” Jungkook lugs four bags into the kitchen, leaving them on the counter before picking up the other three and joining you in the living room. “You’re actually going to yours?”
“That’s what I said!” you exclaim. “Why are you even bothering with the whole reunion thing? Do you really want to see these people?”
“I have my reasons,” Jimin sniffs defensively. “Now, are you gonna tell me which outfit you like better or not?”
Several minutes later and after some very careful inspection of the two photos, both you and Jungkook give Jimin your final verdict. “The suit makes you look like you’re trying too hard,” you tell him, holding the phone between you and Jungkook so he can pipe in if he wants to. “The dick-hugging jeans, on the other hand, are pretty much perfect for what you’re going for.”
“I like the jeans too,” Jungkook says. “Not that I was really paying attention to how your dick looked in them, but if {Name} says so, then I believe her.”
You laugh. “Get the jeans, Minnie. And hurry up, while you’re at it. Don’t you have a plane to catch?”
“I have plenty of time,” Jimin says dismissively. Nonetheless, he bids you both goodbye and hangs up, leaving you alone with Jungkook, six tubes of messily shredded wrapping paper, and the haphazard stack of shopping bags he’s left in the middle of the floor next to yours.
“So… what exactly happened here?” Jungkook asks dryly, picking up a spool of bright red ribbon and ripping off the tape dispenser that’s somehow adhered itself to one side. “It looks like a war zone, and clearly, you lost.”
“Things may have gotten away from me a little bit,” you admit. Disbelief etches across your roommate’s face, and you sigh and quickly amend your statement. “Okay, fine. A lot a bit.”
“{Name}, it looks like something died in here.”
“It does not! Stop exaggerating, you big meanie.”
Jungkook snorts out a loud laugh. Plopping down on the floor, he clears out a space beside him and gestures for you to sit down. “I can’t believe you just called me a meanie,” he says, still chuckling. “Are we in elementary school?”
You sit down in the spot he indicated, crossing your legs and picking up a rather mangled looking bow. “No, but maybe I need to go back. Art class clearly didn’t stick.”
“Funny, art class was always my favorite. That, and music. Speaking of which—” Jungkook whips out his phone and taps at the screen, until the first strains of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” filter through the speakers on either side of the television. “To set the mood,” he explains, tucking his phone away again.
“Very festive,” you remark, bobbing your head along to the addictive melody.
Together, the two of you start wrapping your presents, passing the tape dispenser back and forth. Jungkook is the first one to start humming under his breath, drumming his fingers quietly against his knee, and it isn’t long before you’re both belting along to the music. Grabbing an empty wrapping paper tube, you cut it in half and throw him one end, holding yours up to your mouth like a makeshift microphone. Deftly, he catches it, spinning it between his fingers before closing his eyes for his dramatic, crooning rendition of “Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire”.
Jungkook has a pleasant singing voice. You’ve heard him singing in the shower more than a dozen times by this point, but it still sometimes catches you unawares. A soothing, mellow tenor, his voice is one that melds perfectly with every track and every genre, and you gradually trail off in your own singing to listen to him, uninterrupted. Every so often, he adds a little embellishment or harmony, and you’re so caught up in his performance of “Silent Night” that you forget about the task at hand.
That is, until the task at hand makes itself known again—in the form of a piece of wrapping paper slicing the pad of your index finger open. “Ow!” you exclaim, jerking away from the offending material, and Jungkook stops mid-verse with worry creasing his expression.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, scooting closer when he sees the way you’re clutching your finger. “Did you cut yourself?”
You nod, and wince when a drop of bright red blood wells up in the thin wound. “Yeah, but it’s just a papercut, no biggie. I’m just gonna go grab a band-aid real quick, and—”
Jungkook hops to his feet before you can even finish your sentence and heads for the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with the first-aid kit that you keep stowed beneath the sink. “Give me your hand,” he says, and when you hesitate, he kneels down beside you and lifts your hand himself, his palm engulfing you as he examines the tip of your finger.
“Huh,” he says after a few seconds. “This probably doesn’t need to be disinfected, but better safe than sorry.” Uncapping a tube of antibiotic ointment, he carefully dabs some on with a cotton pad. He winds a band-aid around your finger once he’s finished, and you try and fail to quell the sudden uptick in your heart rate at his delicate care.
“I-I could’ve taken care of it,” you mumble, looking anywhere but at him.
Jungkook shrugs and stands back up to return the first-aid kit to its proper place. “It’s no big deal,” he says. “I was gonna go grab some water, anyway. You want anything while I’m up?”
Silently, you shake your head, and he hums out a soft okay before returning to the kitchen. The cabinet under the sink opens, the faulty bottom hinge that you haven’t gotten around to fixing squeaking in protest, before the faucet turns on. And when he rejoins you in the living room, you see that he has two glasses of water, watching as he sets one down on the coffee table beside you.
“Just in case you get thirsty,” he says simply.
Touched by his thoughtfulness, you raise the glass to your lips and take a sip. “Thanks.”
For the next few minutes, the two of you wrap presents in relative silence, the rustling of paper and ribbon backed by Jungkook’s holiday playlist. It isn’t until Jungkook clears his throat that you look up from where you’re trying in vain to cover a stuffed elephant plushie in wrapping paper, tilting your head in silent inquiry.
Jungkook clears his throat again, hiding both hands behind his back. “You can’t see this last one,” he says. “It’s yours.”
“Oh!” Immediately, you cover your eyes. “Do you want me to turn around?”
He laughs. “Only if you’re going to try and peek.”
“Hey now, your present’s been in my room for days. How do I know you haven’t snuck a look at it?”
“Maybe I did,” he teases. “Maybe I was wondering about how you managed to wrap it without my help.”
You huff, your hands still slapped over your eyes. “Okay, first of all? Rude. And second of all, now I know you didn’t peek. I put your present in a gift bag.”
Jungkook bursts into laughter—high and bright. A few more seconds of rustling later, he tells you that you can open your eyes again, and you immediately spot the little package sitting atop his pile of gifts, wrapped neatly in shiny gold paper.
“We should put these under the tree,” you remark softly, gesturing at the fake plastic monstrosity that you’d gotten on sale two years ago. Between the five strings of lights and all the ornaments, you’ve managed to get it looking decent enough, and with the addition of both your and Jungkook’s gifts beneath the evergreen branches, it makes for a lovely sight.
Whether it’s a lovelier sight than your roommate, though—his honeyed skin glowing in the illumination of the string lights and his dark hair haloed in gold—you cannot quite say.
“You know, it’s not too late to turn around.”
Jungkook chuckles and makes the turn into your parents’ neighborhood, guided by your reluctant directions and the monotone voice of his phone’s GPS. “Really? You want me to turn around right now and drive an hour back to our place?”
“Fifty minutes,” you grumble under your breath. Nonetheless, you sink back into your seat and watch as the house you grew up in comes into view, the rooftop and the tree out front laden with accumulated snow and strung with multicolored lights. Jungkook pulls smoothly into the driveway, and you turn to face him as he puts his car into park and turns off the engine. “Remember—they think we’ve been together for two months.”
He nods. “Yep.”
“And you remember our story, right?”
Jungkook huffs out a laugh. “Are you going to keep delaying the inevitable? Come on, let’s hurry and get inside. It's freezing out here.”
You suck in a deep breath. “Fine,” you relent, climbing out of his beat-up sedan and pulling open the backseat door to fetch the two bags of presents that you’ve brought. Jungkook, for his part, has three bottles of wine tucked safely into a colorful paper bag, as well as a potted poinsettia that he’d picked up from the grocery store yesterday.
“You bought pinot grigio for my mom, right? And white zinfandel for Great Aunt Martha?”
“Yes, and yes. I also have a cabernet sauvignon for any red wine drinkers.” Jungkook nods at the bag swinging from his hand. “Quit worrying, seriously. You’re gonna go prematurely gray.”
“The last few weeks have already cut five years off my lifespan,” you grouse under your breath. Nonetheless, you lead him up the walkway to the front door, and Jungkook chuckles when you ram the doorbell with your elbow, your hands too full to lift a finger.
Not two seconds later, the door flies open, revealing both of your parents standing there. “You’re early!” your mother exclaims, ushering you and Jungkook inside. “Come in, come in—it’s cold out there! Don’t forget to wipe off your feet. And this must be Jungkook!”
You swallow and nod. “Yeah, this is Jungkook. Jungkook—this is my mom and dad.”
Politely, Jungkook inclines his head, the strands of hair that have come loose from his ponytail falling across his forehead. “It’s very nice to finally meet you,” he says. “Thank you for having me.”
“Nonsense,” your dad says, clapping him on the back. “We’re excited to have you. Come on in—you can leave your shoes and coat over here.” Turning to you, he takes the presents off your hands. “I’ll go ahead and put these under the tree for you, honey.”
You smile at him. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You brought gifts?” Your mom steps closer, glancing into your bags before looking over at Jungkook again. Silently, she sizes him up before peering into the bag he’s holding, a slow smile curving her lips as she takes in its contents. “This is very sweet of you, dear. You shouldn’t have.”
Jungkook smiles shyly and tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “It’s no problem,” he says. “Just something small to thank you for your hospitality.”
Your mom laughs and relieves him of the bag, ushering both of you into the kitchen. “We’re happy to have you, believe me.” Removing the poinsettia plant, she sets it on the windowsill above the sink and adds the wine to the impressive display already lining the countertop. You follow her to the sink to wash your hands, and Jungkook trails after you like a shadow.
“So, how’s dinner coming along? you ask as you lather the lemon-scented soap between your palms. “Can we help with anything?”
Your mother nods, pulling two aprons off of a nearby chair and handing one over to each of you. Yours is a decades-old one that you’ve had since you were a child, tie-dyed rainbow with the help of your parents and embroidered with your name in orange thread. The other is pastel pink with white daisies, and you stifle a giggle as Jungkook pulls it over his all-black ensemble and ties the ribbons behind his back. He’s dressed a little less casually than you’re used to—a billowy collared shirt tucked into slim black jeans—but the Timberlands and the swirling ink coiling around his right wrist remain the same as ever and contrast starkly with the bright floral pattern of the apron. Jungkook catches your eye and arches a brow, as if daring you to comment, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully before turning to a nearby drawer and selecting a knife from within.
“I’ll start dicing these potatoes,” you say, gesturing at the pile on the counter.
“I can do the onions,” Jungkook volunteers immediately, following your lead and grabbing a knife of his own. “Is there a bowl I can put them in?”
“They should be right there,” you tell him, pointing at the cabinet he’s standing in front of, and you’re proven correct when he opens it and lets out a satisfied aha! The kitchen quickly fills with the rhythmic sound of chopping, pausing every now and then when your parents request help with something else.
Cooking with Jungkook isn’t new. The two of you cook together more often than not, having quickly realized that it saves both time and money, especially when you make enough dinner to have leftovers for lunch the next day. It’s been about five weeks since you started sharing meals and grocery lists, but you’ve developed a certain level of comfort and ease in that time, a certain ebb and flow in the way you move about the kitchen.
But here in your parents’ home, everything feels different. The kitchen is more spacious, and all of the utensils are in different places. And that’s not even factoring in the fact that you can feel your parents staring when they think you aren’t paying attention, their gazes lingering too long and too often.
It’s a welcome relief, then, when the doorbell rings. Your father heads off to answer it, but the front door swings open before he can even lay a hand on the knob, letting in a gust of chilly air and a small horde of cousins ranging from ages four to thirteen. “Oh god, they’re all here,” you lament under your breath. Tossing a quick prayer up to whatever deities may exist, you take Jungkook by the hand and lead him into the foyer to meet the rest of your family.
“So this is the new boyfriend,” your Great Aunt Martha declares upon your arrival, looking Jungkook up and down. “He’s handsome, I’ll give him that. Not sure about all those tattoos, though.” Then she squints, her eyes narrowing behind the tortoiseshell pattern of her horn-rimmed glasses. “How long did you say you two have been together?”
Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. “Just about two months, now.”
Great Aunt Martha harrumphs. “And how did you meet? Was it that Timber website?”
“Tinder,” you correct. “And, no. We met through Jimin, actually. They went to school together.”
That seems to satisfy her for the time being. Gradually, your family members disperse around the house—some coming to the kitchen to help while others head off to the living room where the television is playing reruns of A Christmas Story. Your grandparents—who live a block away from your parents—brew some tea and take a seat on the couch to rest. All of your cousins disappear somewhere, intent on wreaking the sort of havoc that only children can. If there’s one benefit to a massive family gathering, it’s that the focus is no longer squarely on you and Jungkook. Relief floods through your system as you finally let go of Jungkook’s hand, the two of you now standing alone in the foyer.
“That went well, I think.”
He nods. “No way I’m going to remember all those names, though.”
“Luckily, I don’t think anyone’s expecting you to,” you tell him with a grin. “But I’ll whisper in your ear or send you a text if I have to.”
By the time you return to the kitchen, dinner is nearly ready. Your mother is carefully slicing the roast while your father arranges side dishes in their respective platters. Great Aunt Martha paces around barking orders like a drill sergeant, which are ignored for the most part and halt entirely when your dad brings her a large glass of chilled white zinfandel.
“She always puts a single ice cube in her wine,” you whisper to Jungkook, who snorts out a loud laugh and has to disguise it as a cough. “I don’t know why.”
“It must be an aunt thing,” he whispers back. “Mine does the same thing with merlot.”
With the help of a few aunts and uncles, as well as some of the older cousins, the table in the dining room is set. A smaller table in the adjoining living room is designated for the kids, laid out with a plastic tablecloth and a stack of shatter-proof plates and cutlery. Your Aunt Donna calls for the cousins to come and get their food, and immediately from somewhere upstairs come the pitter-patter of running footsteps. The kids jostle each other as they pick out their plates, and a minor squabble breaks out between the two youngest, Molly and Sadie, when they both want the pink one.
Eventually, everyone picks out their food and takes it back to their table, leaving room for the adults to sit down. Your seat ends up being between Jungkook and your Gram Gram, who smiles and pats your cheek fondly as you pull out her chair for her.
“So, Jungkook!” your father says as he takes the seat opposite you. “Tell us about yourself. What do you do for a living?”
Jungkook nearly chokes on his wine when all eyes turn to him, but he recovers quickly and wipes at his mouth with a festive red and green napkin. “I work in IT,” he says. “I’ve always been good with computers, so it was the natural choice.”
“Did I hear you say that you went to school with the Park boy?” your dad asks. “Bill went there too, didn’t you, Bill?”
Your Uncle Bill nods. “That’s right—class of ‘89. How’d you like it?”
As the two begin talking about their alma mater, you tune out of the conversation. Jungkook seems to be winning everyone over with ease, and the anxiety that’s been gnawing at your ribcage since you arrived slowly begins to wane. Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad, after all, you reason as you pour yourself another glass of wine.
“Enough of all that nonsense!” Great Aunt Martha interrupts Jungkook’s conversation with your uncle mid-sentence and snaps her fingers as if summoning a dog. “When are you two kids getting hitched?”
The entire room goes silent. Even the dull hum of the television and the chatter from the kids’ table seems to fade. Mortified, you open your mouth to chastise your great aunt, but no words come out and you’re left gaping like a fish out of water, your cheeks aflame.
Much to your surprise, Jungkook just laughs. Gently, he reaches over to take your hand, his touch warm and reassuring as his fingers settle into the spaces between your own, and you glance up at him tentatively as he answers. “I think it’s a little too early for that,” he says, his smile soft and lingering. “But I’d like to get married one day.”
Great Aunt Martha settles back into her chair and takes a swig of her wine, the half-melted ice cube inside bobbing. “The sooner the better, I say.”
“That’s hardly up to you, Martha,” your mother cuts in, much to your relief. “They’ve only been dating a few months. You’re going to scare the poor boy off.”
With that, the conversation veers off in a different direction, and thankfully away from the topic of your and Jungkook’s supposedly pending nuptials. The evening wears on, dessert is brought out, and your father goes around the table topping off everyone’s glass as you help your mother load up the dishwasher.
By the time your relatives decide to call it a night, it’s nearly ten o’clock. The cousins are playing board games in the living room, a few of the younger ones stealing not-so-surreptitious glances at the sizable pile of presents beneath the Christmas tree in the corner. It’s tradition for the children to sleep over at your house, as the host of this year’s Christmas festivities, and already they’ve laid out their sleeping bags and pillows in preparation for a long night of staying up late to catch Santa in action. Upstairs, your parents have prepared the guest room for Aunt Donna and Uncle Bill to spend the night as well, since they flew in from the other side of the country. The rest of your relatives, however, live within a five-minute radius and can get home easily enough. Already, your Gram Gram is pulling on her thick wool coat in preparation for the short trek down the block, her husband rushing to her aid when the sleeves get tangled.
“Your bedroom is all set up, honey,” your mother tells you as she puts the last of the leftovers in the refrigerator. “You two can head on up whenever you’d like.”
You glance over at the front door where Jungkook has just come in from unloading your suitcases out of the trunk of his car, your heart rate picking up a notch when you see that he’s rolled his sleeves up to reveal the ink coiling around his right forearm. “Right,” you murmur. “My bedroom. Thanks, Mom.”
She smiles. “Sleep tight, hon.”
“You should really get some rest, too.”
“I will.”
You peck her on the cheek. “You’d better.” Turning, you join Jungkook in the foyer to bid your Gram Gram and Gramps goodbye, hugging each of them in turn and promising that you’ll see them both tomorrow. The rest of your relatives are likewise putting on their coats and shoes, and you say all your farewells before taking your suitcase from Jungkook and lugging it up the stairs.
You’ve only just made it past the first step, Jungkook trailing on your heels, when your father lets out a loud bellow of laughter and calls your name.
Bemused, you turn to face him again. “What is it?”
Your father grins, pointing. “Look up,” he says, and your stomach sinks like a stone as you follow the trajectory of his finger up to the little green sprig dangling from the ceiling just above the stairwell.
“Oh.” You glance at Jungkook, who’s staring up at the mistletoe with an expression that can only be described as a deer caught in headlights of an oncoming truck. He’s standing one step below you, making his head just about level with yours, and you worry your bottom lip anxiously between your teeth as his gaze slides down to meet yours.
“On the cheek?” he suggests softly, and you nod. Gingerly, you lean forward, your lips brushing just above the angle of his jawline.
A chorus of boos rises up from the bottom of the staircase, and you belatedly realize that your cousins have joined the throng of people in the foyer at some point. “Kiss him for real!” Molly trills, stamping her little socked foot against the carpet, her pink pajamas bright as a beacon.
“On the mouth!” Great Aunt Martha agrees, her words slurring together ever so slightly from the full bottle of white zinfandel she’s consumed.
Helplessly, you shrug at Jungkook, who smiles crookedly at you in return. “Guess we don’t have much of a choice, huh?”
“The hyperfixation on watching us kiss is weird, don’t you think?” you ask, trying to make light of the situation even as he leans in.
“Very weird,” he breathes. And then his lips are on yours—warm and soft and just the tiniest bit chapped. He’s applying the gentlest amount of pressure, fainter than a whisper of wind, but it still manages to leave you breathless in a way that has you clutching at his shoulders for support.
All too soon, the kiss comes to an end. Jungkook’s cheeks are flushed when he pulls away, and you’re just about ready to sink through the floorboards when one of your older cousins wolf whistles at the display. “Okay, that’s enough humiliation for one night,” your father decides, taking pity on your embarrassed state and ushering everyone away. “Goodnight, you two.”
“Night,” you croak before making a break for it. Jungkook trails you like a silent shadow as you throw open the door of your childhood bedroom, your face still burning at the memory of his mouth against your own. Letting your suitcase fall to the floor, you flop down onto the edge of the bed, finally working up the nerve to look at your companion.
“This doesn’t have to be weird, right?” you ask, and you wonder if Jungkook can hear the desperation seeping into your voice. “We just have to get through tomorrow, and the morning after that. Then we’ll be on our way home, where everything can go back to normal.”
Jungkook sits down beside you, leaving ample room between you to comfortably seat a third person. “Sure,” he says. “We’re roommates, right? This—” he gestures at the full-sized bed you’re both sitting on, “—doesn’t have to be weird.”
“Right,” you agree. “We’re just… sharing. A room.”
“A bed,” Jungkook says at the same time.
You clear your throat, fiddling nervously with the edge of your sweater. “Right.”
Fortunately, your bedroom has an en suite bathroom, keeping you safe from the prying eyes of your family as you and Jungkook take turns getting ready for bed. You change into your pajamas—an old t-shirt and a pair of soft fabric shorts—and exit the bathroom to see Jungkook sitting awkwardly on the floor at the foot of the bed, his hair now loose and falling across his forehead in loose waves.
“I didn’t know which side of the bed you wanted,” he says, rising to his feet and pocketing his phone. He’s wearing checkered flannel pants and a plain white tee, and you glance down self-consciously at your own bare legs. “Do you have a preference?”
Quickly, you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter,” you tell him. “Pick whatever side you want.”
Jungkook shrugs. “The left, I guess.”
You nod and head for the right side. “Okay.”
Silently, the two of you take a few minutes to organize your suitcases, laying out clothes for tomorrow and plugging in your phones to charge. Finally, when the inevitable can be delayed no longer, you turn toward the bed, carefully lifting up a corner of the blanket and crawling underneath.
“I guess we should get some sleep,” you murmur.
Jungkook joins you under the covers, ensuring that every part of his body remains firmly on his half of the bed. “Probably.”
You swallow, and turn to switch off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight, then.”
The room goes dark, and you feel the mattress shift as Jungkook turns away from you. “Goodnight,” he whispers back.
Minutes pass, and Jungkook’s breathing slowly evens out. Around you, the rest of the house settles into silence, with nary even a peep coming from the little cousins camping downstairs. You remain awake though—painfully aware of the heat radiating from the slumbering body beside you and the erratic tempo of your heart thudding in your ears. Vaguely, you wonder if you’ll have to resort to counting sheep.
After what feels like an eternity, you finally drift off into a fitful slumber. And when you dream, you dream of Jungkook and his lips, warm and sweet against your own.
Your eyes fly open at the piercing shriek, just barely catching a glimpse of bright red pajamas before the perpetrator dashes out of the bedroom and slams the door behind them. Groaning, you flump back against your pillow and cast an apologetic look at Jungkook, who’s slowly beginning to stir awake beside you. “Who was that?” he mumbles blearily, stifling a yawn behind his palm.
“I’m not sure,” you admit. “Mason? Maybe Dakota? It was one of the smaller ones.”
Jungkook hums, both of his eyes falling shut once more. Peace falls over your bedroom once again, lasting for all of three seconds before Jungkook shoots upright and nearly falls off the bed. “I-I—” he stammers, looking utterly horrified. “This isn’t—I mean, I’m not—” He groans. “Fuck. This just happens sometimes, I swear.”
The reason for his awkward stammering and averted gaze is beginning to dawn, your eyes trailing southward. There’s an unmistakable bulge tenting the blanket where Jungkook’s crotch is, and you squeak before slapping both your hands over your eyes as if that will somehow dispel the image that’s now imprinted on your lids. “Oh my god! Can you go, I don’t know, take care of that?”
Jungkook practically flies off the bed, grabbing his pillow and pressing it over his crotch. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m just gonna… I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he stammers, his face crimson as he stumbles over his opened suitcase and strews neatly folded clothing every which way. “Fuck. Shit. Just, uh—can we forget this ever happened?”
“Consider it forgotten,” you tell him, still determinedly looking anywhere but at him. “Can you go now, please?”
You hear him shuffle off, and the bathroom door clicks shut a moment later. Exhaling heavily, you let your head sink back into your pillow, trying to ignore the sound of the shower turning on in the adjoining room and trying even harder to suppress the barrage of unwelcome thoughts infiltrating your brain. The carnal images that flash through your mind are vivid in their obscenity, and it takes every last ounce of willpower to push aside the little voice in your head that croons for you to join him in the shower and drop to your knees to help him out.
You can’t quite look Jungkook in the eye when he exits the bathroom, now fully dressed in faded jeans and an oversized cable-knit sweater the color of fresh cream. Instead, you wordlessly grab the bundle of clothes you’d laid out last night and brush past him to use the bathroom, hoping that a shower of your own will wash away any and all images you’ve managed to conjure of Jungkook’s cock.
Your parents are sitting at the kitchen table with your grandparents by the time you and Jungkook head downstairs for breakfast. In the living room, a few cousins are still stirring awake, batting grumpily at their younger counterparts who keep shaking their shoulders and trying to crawl into their sleeping bags.
“Good morning,” Jungkook greets politely, keeping his voice down, and your mother beams and immediately jumps to her feet to open the refrigerator.
“We have milk and all kinds of juice in here, so help yourself, dear,” she tells him. “Coffee’s in the pot—it’s still hot if you want it. The pancakes and bacon are being kept warm in the oven, plates are over there, and feel free to make some eggs if you want them.”
Jungkook shakes his head, his damp hair flying every which way. “This is more than enough. Thank you so much.”
Your father chooses that moment to speak up. “How did you two kids sleep?”
“Like a log,” Jungkook answers, and you nod your agreement even though it’s a lie.
“Yeah. We slept really well.”
“Good, good.” Your dad stands up and meanders over to the coffeemaker to refill his mug, and you follow after him to grab two plates. Jungkook joins you at the counter as you load them up with pancakes, drenching his in syrup and grabbing a few slices of bacon.
From the other room, you hear the patter of approaching footsteps before Sadie comes zooming in. The five-year-old goes sliding across the tiled floor, trailed by Molly and Dakota a few seconds later, and your father fixes all of them with a stern look as they bounce excitedly on their heels.
“Is it time to open presents?” Sadie asks eagerly, lacing her hands in front of her chest.
Molly gazes up at your parents with wide, pleading eyes. “Pretty, pretty please?”
Your dad scoops the little girl up, easily lifting the four-year-old in her pink unicorn pajamas. “You haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, young lady.”
Molly giggles when he bops her on the nose. “But Uncle, it’s Christmas!”
He chuckles. “You’re right. How about this, then—you can each have one piece of candy from your stocking. But then you have to eat some breakfast, okay?”
All three children cheer. Sadie and Dakota run off again, and Molly follows soon after once your dad sets her back down. “Honey, do me a favor,” he says, and this time, he’s addressing you. “Go and keep an eye on those kids, will you? Try and make sure they don’t eat all their candy in one sitting.”
“On it,” you tell him with a laugh. “Wanna help, Jungkook?”
Your dark-haired companion, who has just taken an enormous bite out of his pancakes, nods and struggles to swallow the food down. Kindly, you pour him a mug of coffee and hand it over, earning yourself a grateful grin from him as he takes a sip. Together, the two of you head into the living room, picking your way through the sea of sleeping bags to an empty spot on the couch and watching as your cousins grab their stockings off the fireplace and fish out the candy from within.
The sun crawls higher in the sky as morning wears on. Breakfast is a messy, chaotic affair, but everyone—the kids included—eventually gets some food into their bellies. All of your relatives have returned to the house, and your father finally gathers everyone around the Christmas tree to take a group photo. You and Jungkook find yourselves seated on the carpeted floor with the rest of the kids as he sets the automatic timer on his camera, having long since given up your spot on the couch to your older family members.
Once the photo is taken, Sadie raises her hand. “Can we open the presents now?”
Her mother, and your Aunt Donna, pretends to consider it. “Oh, I suppose.”
A delighted cheer goes up from the children, and you watch on, amused, as wrapping paper begins to fly in every direction. The cousins with more of a sweet tooth empty the rest of the contents of their stockings, and quickly begin trading for their favorite types of candy. Delighted shouts and laughter pierce the air, and a few minutes into the festivities, little Molly breaks free of the hubbub and approaches the spot where you and Jungkook are seated.
“This is for you,” she says, offering you one of the miniature chocolate bars clutched in her fist. Then she turns to Jungkook shyly, a little smile curling her lips. “And this one’s for you, because {Name} likes you. And that means I like you, too.”
Jungkook looks rather taken aback as he accepts the candy she hands over, his eyes growing wide before he offers her a broad smile and a quiet murmur of thanks. Molly stares at him for a few moments longer, her head tilted, and you’re just about to ask if she needs anything else when she suddenly reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of toffee. “You’re pretty,” she remarks to Jungkook as she unwraps it and shoves it into her mouth. “Just like a prince.”
Great Aunt Martha, who’s seated nearby, overhears her statement and chooses that moment to butt in. “Boys are handsome, dear. Not pretty.”
Jungkook shrugs his shoulders and unwraps his chocolate bar. “I don’t mind being called pretty. Thank you, Molly. You’re very pretty too.”
She giggles. “Do you think {Name}’s pretty?”
You stiffen at the mention of your name, but Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s the prettiest girl in the world,” he says, and the ease with which he says it has your chest feeling dangerously tight. Molly, apparently now done with the conversation, returns to her presents, and you pull out your phone and scroll through your notifications in an attempt to avoid looking at your companion. There’s a few Merry Christmases from your friends, and a selfie from Jimin that depicts him sitting in front of his family’s lit-up tree and drinking straight out of a bottle of champagne. You’re about to open up Instagram to see if kimdaily has posted anything recently, when Jungkook calls your name.
“You should open your presents,” he says when you look up, sliding over a small pile of wrapped packages and gift bags. “Here. I found a few with your name on them.”
Your gaze flits from tag to tag, finally alighting on the little golden one that says To {Name}, From Jungkook. “You should open yours, too,” you tell him, locating the bright purple bag you’d put his gift in and extricating it from beneath the tree. “Here.”
He murmurs a thank you, his face creasing into a smile, and you watch him rifle through the bag for a moment before peeling back the golden paper that he’s wrapped your present in. The box inside is made of nondescript white cardboard, and your jaw drops open when you remove the lid.
“How—how did you know I wanted this?”
Jungkook fiddles with his hair, tucking a few loose strands behind his ear. “I saw you eyeing it a few weeks ago, when we were walking home from the bowling alley. And then again, after we went to dinner. Do you like it?”
You run a fingertip along the ridges of the knit scarf, admiring the pattern and the softness of the yarn. “I love it, Jungkook. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, his smile broadening as he turns his attention back to your gift. The last bits of tissue paper fall away, and his eyes widen like saucers when he reads the label of the box. “Hang on. Did you buy me a new headset?”
You nod. “Yeah. You mentioned that yours broke, right?”
“Yeah, but…” He trails off. “Wow. Thank you, really. These aren’t cheap. I was going to pick up a pair during the summer sale.”
“I found a coupon, don’t worry,” you tell him with a laugh. “I’m just glad I bought the right kind.”
He grins. “And you really like the scarf? Honest? It was kind of hard to tell what you were looking at when we walked by the store.”
“Just the fact that you noticed me staring is already impressive,” you tell him, giggling. “And yes, I love it. It’s perfect.”
Jungkook reaches out and takes it out of the box, the knit material unraveling to its full length. “Not yet,” he says, beckoning you to lean in. And when you do, he settles it around your neck with a quiet tenderness that has your heart skipping several beats before taking a nosedive into your churning stomach.
Maybe he’s doing it for show, you reason. Your entire family is here, and if anyone had any doubts about the truth of your relationship, they’ve surely been allayed now. Jungkook is close enough for you to count each individual eyelash fluttering against his cheeks as he blinks, and you make it all the way to seven before your gaze drops to the little freckle on the tip of his nose, and then even further to the one that sits beneath his bottom lip.
“There. Now it’s perfect,” Jungkook says, pulling one fringed end through the knot he’s created and brushing a few stray yarn fibers off your cheek. The emotion that suffuses your chest at the touch is so overwhelming that you momentarily lose the ability to speak, but luckily, you don’t have to.
“Don’t think we’ve forgotten about you, Jungkook!”
Your mother’s voice jerks you out of your daze, and you tear away from your companion’s touch as if burned. Jungkook glances up, wide-eyed, and you watch the confusion etch across his face when he spots the brightly colored bag dangling from your mom’s hand.
“We got you a little something,” she explains, holding the bag out for him to take. “It isn’t much, I’m afraid. But with any luck, you’ll be able to get some use out of them.”
Jungkook accepts the gift and lowers it into his lap, taking out the items one by one—two pairs of patterned wool socks, a novelty mug that reads This is my bah hum mug!, and a pair of red knit mittens that you recognize as Gram Gram’s handiwork. “These are lovely,” he remarks, fingering the bright yarn. “Thank you so much, Mrs. {Last Name}.”
Your mom waves off his gratitude. “No need to thank me, dear. We’re just happy that you’re here to celebrate with us.”
Molly rises from her spot in the pile of candy wrappers that’s overtaken most of the carpeted floor, a brown headband dangling from her chocolate-stained fingers. “This is for you, too,” she says, marching over to Jungkook and placing the headband crookedly on his head. Jungkook beams and adjusts it so that the end isn’t jabbing into the shell of his ear, and you can’t help but giggle at the sight of the sequined reindeer antlers sticking out from each side, the bells at the tip jingling each time he moves his head.
“Smile,” you tell him, opening up your camera app, and he immediately does as requested, his lips curving up at the edges.
“So?” he asks once you’ve lowered your phone again. “Am I pretty like a prince?”
You glance down at the photograph you’ve just taken, the butterflies in your belly beginning to stir. “Yeah,” you murmur after a second’s hesitation. “Definitely.”
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It takes another hour for everyone to finish unwrapping their gifts. The younger children are dutifully trading the last pieces of candy they have for their favorites, and Jungkook has migrated over to the other side of the room to thank your Gram Gram for the mittens. She’s holding his tattooed hand between both of her smaller ones and animatedly saying something that you can’t quite make out over the general commotion, but you have a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with you.
You’re picking up discarded ribbons, gathering them into one of the many empty boxes scattered around the room, when Jungkook returns to your side. “Have you heard?” he asks. “Apparently, we’re going sledding.”
You laugh. “Yeah, it’s an annual tradition. There’s a park with a giant hill about two blocks away, where I used to go every day in the winter as a kid.”
Jungkook raises a dubious brow. “Every day?”
“Every day,” you confirm. “Ask my mom for the photo albums. She’ll show you.”
He chortles. “I’m not sure we have time to sit and look at photo albums. It looks like Molly and Sadie are starting to get impatient.” Pointedly, he inclines his head at the two girls, who have started an impromptu wrapping paper ball fight. You heave a sigh and step in to intervene, and after ten minutes and quite a bit of wrangling, the living room is passably clean and devoid of candy wrappers and ribbon bows.
The sun is shining bright overhead when you open the front door, glinting off of the fresh snow that’s fallen sometime during the night. Walking over to the garage, you enter the door code and step back as it eases open with a rumbling mechanical whirr. “We keep the sleds in the back,” you inform Jungkook, who’s joined you as you begin to make your way around the car parked inside, the reindeer headband still perched proudly atop his head. “Can you grab the three big ones?”
Jungkook complies, easily reaching up to unhook the plastic sleds from where they’re hanging above a shelf of gardening supplies. You grab the other sleds from where they’re leaning against the wall—a few bright orange discs each about the size of a trash can lid—and turn back to where your cousins are waiting near the door. “Remember, you all have to share, okay?” you tell them in the sternest voice you can muster. Dutifully, they nod, and you and Jungkook begin the long task of herding them two blocks in the direction of the park.
There are already a few children there when you arrive, shrieking with laughter as they fly down the hill on multicolored sleds. The older cousins immediately dart off to join them, and you stifle a giggle when one of them bellyflops into the snow and goes spinning sideways before gravity takes hold and drags him down the incline.
“‘Kookie?” Molly is standing at Jungkook’s side, her head of brown curls reaching no higher than his waist as she tugs on the sleeve of his puffy black coat. “Can you ride with me?”
Jungkook kneels down and takes her hand in his mittened ones, and you belatedly realize he’s already putting your Gram Gram’s gift to good use. “Is this your first time sledding, Molly?” he asks.
Tentatively, she nods, and Jungkook smiles and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come on,” he says, taking the long pink sled she’s pulling behind her. “You sit down first, okay? I’ll be right behind you.”
“I don’t wanna go too fast,” Molly declares, and Jungkook nods in understanding.
“We’ll start here then, okay? The hill isn’t as steep on this side.” Carefully, he sits down behind Molly, his legs on either side of her small frame. He urges her to hang on to the sled’s rope handle, checking to make sure she has a good grip on it before pushing off with his hands. The momentum is just enough to tip the sled over the crest, and physics does the rest. They cruise down the hill smoothly, coming to a gradual stop at the bottom, and you can see from the delighted grin on Molly’s face that she loved every minute.
“That was so fun!” she shrieks, waving at you. “You gotta come down too, {Name}!”
You heft your own sled, swallowing down the dangerous warmth that’s threatening to burst forth from your chest and release the horde of butterflies that have taken up residence there. “I’m coming!” you call, your childhood muscle memory returning full force as you take a short running start before flopping down onto your sled. The added momentum launches you down the hill, the icy wind stinging your cheeks, and by the time you come to a stop at the bottom you’re grinning so wide your entire face hurts.
“Let’s go again!” Sadie and Dakota have joined Molly, and all three of them are now looking expectantly at you and Jungkook. “Can you push us so we go even faster?”
“Sure,” Jungkook says agreeably. “Just give me one sec, okay?”
The kids nod and dart off, racing each other back up the hill with the sled in tow. Jungkook tugs off one of his new mittens with his teeth, reaching into his coat pocket for a hair tie, and you try not to stare as he gathers his wavy hair at his crown and fastens it into a loose little bun that leaves only a few strands to frame his face. “Ready to head back up?” he asks, offering you a hand.
You hesitate before taking it, your fingers curling around his warm palm as he pulls you to your feet. Jungkook puts his mitten back on, and you murmur a thanks when he gallantly volunteers to pull the sled back up the hill in your stead.
The hours fly by—filled with laughter and snow flying every which way when your eleven-year-old cousin, Damien, starts an impromptu snowball fight. Your mother calls you halfway through to check in, and you reassure her that everyone’s doing just fine as you duck behind a nearby tree for cover. A new notification sits on your screen when you end the call, kimdaily’s name emblazoned there like a taunt, but you swipe it away after a moment’s hesitation and rejoin the snowball fight, rushing to Jungkook’s aid as Damien and a few others launch a particularly pointed attack.
“Oh my god!” you cry as Damien hefts up a chunk of snow the size of a basketball. “Jungkook, watch—!”
Your warning comes too late. The snow smashes into Jungkook’s side with a thwump, and he staggers back a few steps before losing his balance and falling to the ground. Damien sprints off, cackling like the maniacal little terror he is, and you dart over to Jungkook with every intention of helping him back to his feet.
The icy patch on the ground throws a wrench in that plan. Your boot skids across the slick surface, and you flail helplessly before gravity brings you down atop Jungkook’s chest and nearly knocks your forehead against his. Your faces are mere centimeters apart, all the air having escaped your lungs at the impact, and your eyes widen in horror when you realize that he’s probably faring no better with almost the entirety of your weight resting atop him. “Oh my god,” you gasp, trying and failing to stand up again. Your feet slip almost immediately, sending you tumbling back down onto Jungkook, your breaths intermingling as you fight to recover the lost oxygen. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
Jungkook’s chest rumbles, and to your surprise, he’s laughing. “You should see the look on your face,” he wheezes. “You’re acting like I died, or something.”
You manage to roll off of him at last, sitting up straight and fixing him with a glare. “I could’ve really hurt you!”
“But you didn’t,” he replies simply, still flat on his back in the snow. “Not really, at least. My sternum hurts a little, but I’ll recover.”
“We should still take a closer look when we get back to the house,” you remark, laying a hand on his shoulder as he sits up. “It’s getting close to dinnertime, anyway. I’m going to start rounding up the kids.”
“I’ll help,” Jungkook says, accepting the hand you offer him as he clambers back to his feet. “Lead the way.”
Dinner is a haphazard affair. Half of your family members take up residence in front of the television, watching holiday reruns of The Great British Baking Show, while a smaller group starts a game of poker at the kitchen table, where by the sound of it, Great Aunt Martha is making a killing. A few of your cousins decide they want to bake cookies after the meal, and you and Jungkook end up supervising the entire affair, from the mixing of the dough—which is when you catch Dakota trying to make off with all the chocolate chips before they can be added—to the time it takes the double batch of cookies to bake. You stir up two mugs of hot cocoa as Jungkook carefully transfers the last of the cookies to the cooling rack, handing one over to him as he finishes up and turns off the oven.
“You know, these turned out surprisingly good,” you remark, picking out a warm cookie and taking a bite. “I thought for sure they’d mixed up the sugar and salt earlier.”
“Not to mention all the vanilla extract they poured in,” Jungkook adds, shuddering. “You’re right, though. These are good.”
Loading up a plate with cookies, you and Jungkook take it to the living room alongside your cocoa. The couches are already occupied, so you grab a few discarded throw pillows and a tartan throw from the armchair where your father is sitting. Tossing the pillows on the ground in front of the fireplace, you take a seat and lay the blanket over your lap. Jungkook joins you, and when you offer him a corner of your blanket, he gratefully accepts.
“How’s your sternum feeling?” you ask.
He hums, leaning back against the pillows and taking a sip of his hot cocoa. “It’s fine. Nothing a cookie or two can’t fix.”
He’s eaten well over two cookies by this point—not to mention several balls of raw cookie dough—but you decide not to bring up those particulars. Instead, your gaze drops down to his mouth, where a dollop of whipped cream has made a home along his upper lip.
“Cream!” you blurt.
Jungkook blinks, twice in quick succession. “Huh?”
Cheeks warming, you quickly clarify by gesturing at his mouth. Realization dawns across his face, and you watch as he raises a tattooed hand and swipes his knuckles across his mouth. “Better?”
You nod and bury your face into your mug, hoping that maybe if you drink enough cocoa, you’ll be able to drown the butterflies fluttering in your belly.
The fire crackles cheerily in the fireplace behind you, warming your back. It’s nothing compared to the heat emanating off of Jungkook though—his proximity igniting molten warmth in your veins every time he reaches out to grab a cookie from the plate in your lap or takes a sip from his mug, his lips pursing around the rim. On the other side of the room, an episode of The Great British Baking Show comes to a close, the credits rolling across the screen.
Evidently, Sadie and Molly have no intention of letting that time go to waste. The two little girls trundle over—Sadie wearing the reindeer antlers that Molly gave Jungkook earlier in the day—and plop down at the edge of the tartan throw that you and Jungkook are sharing.
“Are you in love?”
You choke on your cocoa. Next to you, Jungkook stiffens into a statue. “Are we what?”
“In love,” Sadie repeats, oblivious to your sputtering panic. “Like in the movies.”
“We—” You’re at a loss. “We, uh…”
Jungkook recovers his voice and mobility before you can stammer out another garbled syllable. “Yeah. We are,” he says, and you nearly choke again. Sadie and Molly, however, look pleased.
“When did you know?” Molly presses.
“How do you know?” Sadie asks.
Jungkook glances over, locking eyes with you for a split second before his gaze skitters away. “I realized it pretty recently, I guess. The more time I spent with her, the more I liked her.”
The girls turn to you. “What about you, {Name}?” Molly asks. “How do you know you love Kookie?”
You inhale deeply and release it back out again, trying to quell the panic beating at your heart. “I… I guess I just like spending time with him. He makes me laugh.” Out of the corner of your eye, you chance a look at Jungkook, who’s rubbing the back of his neck and staring down at his toes. “And he always tries to cheer me up when I’m sad. It’s… nice.”
Molly sighs and steals a cookie from your plate. “I wanna be in love,” she says in between bites.
Jungkook reaches out to ruffle her brown hair. “It’ll happen one day, kiddo. Just wait and see.”
That seems to satisfy both girls. Cheerfully, they return to their spot in front of the television, leaving you alone with Jungkook and the palpable tension that’s settled in the air like fog.
You break the silence first. “I think I’m done with this,” you say, picking up your nearly empty mug and rising to your feet. “I’m gonna go rinse it out, and then I’m probably going to head upstairs for the night.”
Jungkook fidgets with the edge of the tartan blanket, picking at a loose thread. “I think I’m going to stay until the end of this episode,” he says, inclining his head at the new bakers on the television. “Can’t leave without seeing who wins, and all that.”
You manage the stiffest of nods before turning and fleeing the scene with your mug in hand and your heart in your throat. The butterflies in your belly are in a frenzy, their wings beating against the slats of your ribcage as if trying to break free, and it’s all you can do to throw your cup in the dishwasher before dashing past the ongoing poker game at the kitchen table and taking the stairs two at a time. The relative safety of your childhood bedroom is a welcome relief—a sigh escaping your lips as you close the door and collapse against it. For a few long seconds, you just breathe—feeling the oxygen swell in your lungs before releasing it out again into the open air.
Love. The word echoes in your mind and rattles around your brain, the mantra fraying at the delicate threads of your mended heart. Unbidden, your ex-boyfriend’s face materializes out of the morass of your consciousness, sparking a sharp pang in your chest that catches you by surprise with its ferocity.
It takes a few minutes for you to regain your composure, but when you do, you immediately head into the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Turning on the shower, you make good use of the time it takes for the water to heat up by grabbing your pajamas from your suitcase and brushing your teeth. By the time you’re finished, the water is hot, and you step underneath the spray to scrub your body and mind clean.
When you exit the bathroom, Jungkook is sitting at the edge of his side of the bed, scrolling idly through his phone. At the sound of the door opening, he looks up, his brown eyes locking with yours for a moment before he awkwardly clears his throat and tucks his phone away.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says, staring down at his palms. “I, uh, didn’t really think your cousins were ready for the truth about our relationship, so I figured a white lie wouldn’t hurt. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
You shake your head. “You didn’t upset me,” you tell him, slowly making your way to your side of the bed and rooting around for your charging cable. “You just… took me by surprise. That’s all.”
He huffs out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah. No kidding.”
Finally locating your charger, you plug in your phone. The device buzzes gently, the screen lighting up, and it’s impossible to miss the new notification bearing kimdaily’s name that lies in wait there. “Not again,” you sigh, sitting down and swiping it open.
Jungkook pauses on his way to the bathroom. “Everything okay?”
“It’s just my ex.” You wiggle your phone. “What do you think he’s posted now?”
He frowns. “Now? Did he post something earlier?”
You scroll through Namjoon’s profile for confirmation and nod. “Snowman. Few snow angels. And now he’s watching Love, Actually, apparently.”
You snort. “Right?”
Jungkook looks like he wants to say something else—you can see it written all over his face. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, his fingers stilling on the bathroom doorknob, and you raise a questioning brow when he hesitates a moment too long.
“What is it?”
He lets out the breath that he’s apparently been holding, releasing it all at once. “Is it okay if I ask what happened between you two?” he asks softly.
You freeze, and Jungkook immediately backtracks, waving a hand in dismissal as he scurries backward into the bathroom. “Never mind. Forget I asked. I’m being nosy.”
“You really are,” you agree, finding your voice at last. “But, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Honestly, I kinda think you deserve to know after all we’ve been through the past few weeks.”
Step by step, Jungkook ventures back into the bedroom and takes a cautious seat on the mattress beside you, taking care to give you plenty of space. He doesn’t say anything further, just sits silently and stares at his hands as he waits for you to begin. And after a few seconds, you finally do—sucking in a deep breath and exhaling in a flurry of words.
“We started dating in September. We were together for just over a year,” you begin. “And maybe it’s stupid, but that felt really significant for me. It’s why I told you to lie—to say that we’ve been dating since October. My family thinks that Namjoon and I broke up in August, just before our one-year anniversary. But really, we didn’t end things until October. I remember, because it was right after Jimin’s birthday party.”
“You were at a party?” Jungkook gapes. “That’s horrible.”
You shrug. “I know. But it was better than lying to ourselves for any longer.”
Jungkook hesitates, fiddling with one of the holes in his jeans. “Did… did he cheat?” he asks, and you sigh and shake your head.
“No, it was nothing like that. We just… grew apart, I guess. I don’t know how or when, but I woke up one day and it was like we were different people. And we realized we just didn’t make sense together. Not anymore.”
Jungkook shifts—the mattress rising and dipping with his weight. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs after a long beat of silence. “Growing apart from someone you used to be so close to—that’s probably one of the saddest things about growing up."
Your chest is beginning to feel a little too tight, your eyes stinging at the corners. “Yeah. No kidding.”
Jungkook seems to sense your mounting dismay, because he tentatively scoots a little closer. “It’s not all bad, though,” he murmurs, laying a hand on your shoulder. “I like to think it means you’re moving forward, and that you’re on the right path. Sometimes you take a detour, and sometimes you take a wrong turn. But I think that we all end up back on track, one way or another.”
You peer up at him through your lashes. “Are you saying that Namjoon was a wrong turn?”
“Probably,” Jungkook admits quietly. “But we all take the wrong turn sometimes. All that matters is that you’re back on the right path now.”
The tension in your shoulders eases somewhat, the tightness in your chest subsiding. “You really think I’m on the right path?”
He smiles. “Yeah. I do.”
Silence falls again, and Jungkook pats you on the shoulder one last time before slowly rising to his feet. He’s halfway to the bathroom when you call his name, and when he turns around curiously, you can’t quite bring yourself to look him in the eye. “Thank you,” you mumble, addressing your knees instead. “I really needed to hear that, I think. I haven’t really talked to anyone about what happened with Namjoon, and… I’m glad I finally did. So thank you.”
Jungkook hums, and when he answers, his voice is as soft as a breath of wind. “Anytime.”
That night, you sleep much easier, finding comfort in Jungkook’s presence beside you instead of disquiet.
You open your eyes to sunshine the next morning—a narrow beam shining through the gap in the curtains and illuminating the golden dust motes that float lazily around the otherwise dark bedroom. Contentedly, you let your eyes fall shut again, snuggling back into the cozy cocoon of your covers and relishing the almost stifling warmth pressed against your back. Off in the distance, you can hear the other occupants of the house beginning to stir, mattresses creaking and showers turning on. Already, you can make out the faint scent of coffee wafting upstairs from the kitchen.
Blindly, you reach out and fumble for your phone on the nightstand, your fingers scrabbling across the cardboard edges of a tissue box and the Hello Kitty alarm clock that you never had the heart to get rid of before finally landing on the sleek glass screen. You tug the device toward you to check the time, grunting when the charging cable runs out of slack, and clumsily try to roll closer to the nightstand when the arm around your waist tightens and thwarts your escape.
The realization hits you then—slamming into you like a cargo train. You’re in bed with Jungkook. Jungkook, whose arm is currently wound around your waist—and now that you’re paying attention, whose face is buried in the back of your neck and whose breath you can feel against the delicate skin of your nape. “Oh, shit,” you breathe. “Shit, shit, shit.”
There’s no way you can possibly escape his embrace without waking him, but you try nonetheless, twisting and turning out of his grasp. Jungkook lets out a hoarse groan as you finally squirm free, rolling onto his back, and you eye him warily as he suppresses a yawn behind his palm.
“G’morning,” he rasps, his voice a full octave lower than normal. “What time is it?”
You grab your phone off the nightstand, clutching onto it like it’s a lifeline. “Just after eight.”
“Mm.” Jungkook grunts out something unintelligible, rubbing at his eyes drowsily before pushing himself up into a sitting position. “We just have that breakfast today, right? The sendoff thing?”
You nod. Every year, your family wraps up the holiday weekend with a big breakfast bash—one last hearty meal before everyone has to drive or fly back to their own homes and lives. It’s a disorganized affair at best, but the food is always delicious and you always leave with leftovers that reheat well. “Yeah. Supposedly, it starts at ten, but it really just depends on when everyone decides to show up.”
Jungkook chuckles. “They’ll come when they’re hungry.”
The sun rises higher into the sky as you and Jungkook take turns in the bathroom, brushing your teeth and getting dressed. You’re pulling on your favorite pair of fuzzy socks when Jungkook comes out with his hair still damp from the shower, the occasional droplet dripping down and sinking into the fabric of his charcoal crewneck sweatshirt. The sleeves are rolled up to expose the network of branching veins that run along his forearms, and the sizable rip in the left knee of his jeans reveals thigh muscles that you didn’t even know existed, but you determinedly force your gaze back down to your toes as he putters around and puts his silver earrings back into his ears.
As soon as you step into the hallway, you can smell and hear bacon sizzling. Together, you and Jungkook head down to the kitchen where your parents are standing at the stove, each with a pan in front of them and hard at work.
“Morning, kids,” your mother greets, waving her spatula. “We’re running low on coffee—would you mind brewing some more?”
“Sure.” You make your way over to the coffeepot, filling up the machine with fresh water and ground beans. Your father enlists Jungkook’s help with something at the stove, and you can’t help but smile when Jungkook obligingly dons the pastel pink daisy apron from yesterday in preparation.
The morning wears on. Aunt Donna and Uncle Bill join you in the kitchen, helping where they can. One by one, the cousins awaken from their slumber in the living room and begin slinking into the kitchen for something to snack on, and your mother is quick to send them off with little bowls of diced strawberries topped with a dollop of whipped cream.
Right as the clock strikes ten, the doorbell starts ringing—signalling the arrival of the rest of your family. They troop in, raucous as ever even after two days together, and the conversation lasts through the cooking and well into the meal. In fact, you’re positive that they could’ve kept conversing until the new year, but Uncle Bill checks his watch and cuts into a discussion about Christmas tree shortages by loudly dropping his silverware onto his empty plate and clearing his throat.
“Well, I hate to say it, but we’ve got a flight to catch in a couple hours. We should really be heading out.”
And with that catalyst, the rest of your family gradually follows suit. The relatives who live far away start saying their goodbyes, and Great Aunt Martha cites her bad back as all the more reason she should drive back to her house across town now and get some rest. Jungkook gets his fair share of goodbyes and warm wishes as well, and you briefly overhear Great Aunt Martha telling him that he better be back next year with a ring to put on your finger. Several cousins run up to hug him, and Molly and Sadie, in particular, wrap themselves around his legs and refuse to let go. Your heart swells in your chest when he finally extricates himself and crouches down to embrace each of them in turn.
Before long, the time finally arrives for you and Jungkook to make the drive back to the city. You hug your parents and promise to text them once you’re home safe, and your mother hands over a paper bag filled with more containers of leftovers than you can count. “Be sure to add some milk to the mashed potatoes before you reheat them,” she advises. “And don’t you dare put the pie in the microwave!”
“I know, Mom,” you tell her, laughing. “I hate soggy crust as much as you do.”
Smiling, she turns to Jungkook and presses a plastic container into his hands. “These are the leftover cookies, dear. We aren’t going to eat them, but I know you were enjoying them last night.”
Jungkook opens his mouth, no doubt to protest her generosity, but she cuts him off by wrapping him in a tight hug. “Drive safe,” she tells him, and he nods.
“I will.”
“Take care of my little girl,” your father cuts in. “You don’t hurt her now, you hear me?”
Aghast, you turn to him. “Dad!” you begin, but Jungkook just laughs and nods again.
“Yes, sir.”
There’s no traffic on your way back to the city, for which you are grateful. You aren’t sure you could stand any more time trapped in a car with your dark-haired roommate, painfully aware of every flex of his arms and every tick in his jaw as he drives. By the time he finally parks the car, you are practically ready to jump out of your skin—your knees jittery and your heart pounding dangerously hard against your ribs.
“Thank you for doing this,” you tell Jungkook as you open the car door and climb out. “Now we can finally go back to normal.”
“Right,” he says. “Normal.” And as you turn and head for the front door, you completely miss the fleeting look that flits across his face.
“So, when exactly did you go blind?”
Jimin has you cornered in the bathroom, caging you in with his body, and despite your best friend’s lithe appearance he is in firm possession of a solid frame of dense muscle and all the stubbornness of a mule. “What are you talking about?” you ask, trying to push past him, but he holds his ground and flicks you on the forehead for good measure.
“You heard me,” he says. “Or have you gone deaf, too? Maybe you’re just a bigger idiot than I thought you were. Or are you being stupid on purpose?”
Irritably, you cross your arms over your chest and shift your weight, tapping your socked foot against the tiled floor. “Okay, did I miss a memo? When did we agree to start being needlessly cruel to each other?”
“Since you decided to start being stupid,” Jimin replies bluntly. “Seriously, {Name}. Can’t you see that he really likes you?”
Once again, you try and fail to shove past Jimin. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Jimin huffs out an exasperated sigh. “Jungkook!” he hisses, casting a wary glance at the cracked bathroom door before lowering his voice to a whisper. “Jungkook likes you, you idiot. I’ve never seen him like this, and I’ve known him for going on eight years now. Things are weird between you two—don’t you feel it?”
Your mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words escape. When you regain your voice at last, all you can manage is a weak stammer of protest, one that sounds unconvincing even to your own ears. “Don’t be ridiculous. Jungkook, he… he doesn’t like me. That’s insane.”
Jimin scoffs. “You’re insane, and I’m right. He’s been staring at you all afternoon—did you notice that? I don’t think he even knows what movie we just watched.”
“He was probably just spacing out or something,” you retort. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
That earns you another sigh. “It’s been two days since you came back from your parents’ house, right? Have you two even talked since then?”
“We talk,” you say defensively. “We put together a grocery list yesterday.”
“That doesn’t count, and you know it,” Jimin snaps. “Look, I know something happened over Christmas—it’s written all over your face. And you clearly like him too, so why don’t you go in there and do something about it?”
Your face heats up at the accusation, but you refuse to concede that easily. “Did your sister make brownies again or something? Are you high?”
Jimin, unfortunately, knows you far too well to fall for your deflections, his honey brown eyes narrowing in triumph. “I knew it!” he whispers excitedly, grabbing your shoulders and giving you a shake. “You like him, and he likes you. So, I’m going to make myself scarce now, and you are going to ask that boy out because it’s the twenty-first fucking century and women can make the first move if they want to.”
With that, Jimin turns on his heel and flings open the bathroom door, leaving you no time to protest and no chance to drag him back so you can tell him how wrong he is about everything. So you can tell him that you don’t like Jungkook, and he most certainly doesn’t like you.
You’re roommates. You’d probably even classify him as a friend, now. But to call him anything else? The mere thought sets your face aflame, so you turn on the sink and splash your face with copious amounts of cold water before exiting the bathroom.
“Jimin—” you begin as you enter the living room, only to stop dead in your tracks when you’re greeted by the sight of Jungkook and Jungkook alone.
“He just left,” your roommate says, rising from the couch, and you grit out a curse. “Is something wrong? Did something happen with you guys?”
“No, it’s just—” You sigh. “It’s just Jimin being Jimin. Like usual.”
“It almost sounded like you were fighting,” Jungkook notes, before he blanches and tries to walk back his statement. “Not that I was eavesdropping, or anything! I just, it’s just that I—”
You shake your head, cutting off his rambling. “It’s fine, Jungkook—we weren’t fighting. Jimin’s just being a pain in the ass about something.”
“He’s a pain in the ass about most things,” Jungkook points out with a chuckle, his eyes crinkling into crescents and his upper lip disappearing into his grin. The sun is just beginning to set, painting the walls of your living room with slanting rays of gold and casting his face in an ethereal glow. And though you hate to admit when you’re wrong, you can no longer deny the feelings bubbling up in your chest, warm and ebullient.
“Jungk—” you start, your voice scarcely above a whisper.
“Weshouldgetdinner!” Jungkook blurts suddenly, and you stop, blinking in confusion.
His cheeks flush, but he presses on nonetheless. “We should get dinner,” he repeats, the syllables dragging from his throat. “Like, as a date. A real one. I… I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now.”
Your mouth opens but no words come out, and Jungkook seems to take the silence as a bad sign. The glimmer of hope in his eyes fades, his shoulders slouching beneath his oversized black sweatshirt. “Sorry,” he mumbles, sinking back down onto the couch. “Forget I said anyth—”
It’s his turn to blink. “Huh?”
“Yes,” you repeat, taking a few tentative steps forward. “Yes, let’s get dinner, because I… I like you, Jungkook. I think I’ve liked you for a while now.”
A slow grin spreads across his face, as bright as the sun painting golden streaks through the sliver of sky visible from the window. “Sorry, I think I just went temporarily deaf,” he teases, swirling his pinky in his ear. “Could you repeat that?”
You huff, reaching out to smack his arm weakly. “God, you’re so embarrassing.”
“But you like it,” he replies, intercepting your hand and lacing your fingers together. “You like me. Now, where do you want to go for our first real date?”
“So,” Jungkook says, leaning back in his chair. “Here we are.”
The two of you are at the same restaurant you took him to just before your company’s holiday party, but this time you’re indoors instead of on the rooftop. The wooden decor is cozy and the lighting is dim, and every table is decorated with a spherical glass bowl that holds three floating candles, their flickering flames reflecting off the water and illuminating your companion’s face in warm, hazy gold.
“Here we are,” you agree with a grin. “Again.”
You both laugh, and the conversation starts from there—flowing so easily that you wonder how you ever lived a life without him in it. You swap silly childhood stories and share the details of your favorite vacations, and it feels like no time has passed at all when Jungkook pulls out his wallet to pay the check.
“My turn,” he says, plopping his credit card down, and his voice leaves no room for argument.
Snow begins falling as you and Jungkook head back in the direction of your shared home—fat white flakes flurrying down to land in your lashes and dust across your shoulders. Jungkook’s hair—loose and falling around his face in wispy waves—looks as if it’s been scattered with icy stars to match the constellations glimmering in his dark irises, and ever so slowly, you reach out to take his hand.
“Kiss me?” you request.
Jungkook’s gaze darkens. “Thought you’d never ask,” he breathes, and your palms fly up to his broad shoulders when he leans in at last and crushes his mouth to yours.
Somehow, the two of you manage to make it home, the snow on your clothes beginning to melt as soon as you step past the threshold. Jungkook kicks the door shut with a booted foot, and you sigh into his mouth as he rids you of your coat and cages you against the wall of the entryway. Soft lips trail from the line of your jaw down to the column of your neck, and you shiver when he finds a particularly sensitive spot near your clavicle and lets his teeth graze across it.
His hands are at your hips now, palming along the ridged corduroy of your skirt as his fingertips dig into the soft curve of your rear. Cupping his cheek, you bring him back into a kiss, relishing the unhurried way his mouth moves against yours even as hardness grows against your lower belly. Deliberately, you slide your palm down his chest, past the toned ridges of his abdomen and all the way down to the growing bulge in his jeans.
Jungkook stops you before you can brush against him, his fingers ironclad around your wrist. “Wait,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Maybe… we shouldn’t do this. Maybe we should take things slow.”
You fall limp in his grasp, and he slowly releases your hand so you can lower it back down to your side. “Slow,” you repeat, trying to hide your disappointment. “Right.”
Gentle fingers find your chin, tilting your face up so he can press a sweet kiss on your mouth. “I just don’t want to fuck this up,” he murmurs, his breath fanning your cheeks with every word. “I like you way too much for that.” Then he glances down to the tent in his jeans, awkwardly pulling his coat closed to obscure it.
The kiss doesn’t stop the disappointment from blooming in your belly, but you nod nonetheless. “Okay,” you whisper, letting your lips graze his once more. “We’re taking things slow, right? So, I guess this is the part where I say goodnight.”
Jungkook’s lips pull up into a tiny grin, his fingers reluctantly loosening their grip on your waist. “Okay,” he breathes. “Goodnight, {Name}.”
“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you reply, committing every last detail of his face to memory before turning and heading for your bedroom. Jungkook’s bedroom door closes behind him, and you stare at it for a moment before shutting your own. Taking a seat on the edge of your bed, you unbutton your skirt and kick it off your legs until it falls flat onto the carpet. Your tights meet the same fate, replaced quickly with flannel pajama pants, but your sweater you decide to keep on for a while longer as you meander into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.
You’re still thinking of Jungkook when you climb into bed ten minutes later, now braless and dressed in an oversized t-shirt. You wonder if he’s in his pajamas, and whether he’s in bed or if he’s decided to start one of those late night gaming sessions that he seems to favor. You wonder what would happen if you walked across the living room and knocked on his bedroom door right now—if he would sweep you up and continue what you’d started or if he’d push you away. Your feet carry you over to your bedroom door before you even fully realize what you’re doing, your fingers already wrapped around the doorknob.
It takes a second for you to steel your nerves enough to open the door, but when you do, you see that you aren’t alone. Jungkook stands on the other side, his hand raised and poised to knock. Shock flits across his face, his mouth falling into a little ‘o’ of surprise, and you’re certain you’re mirroring his expression.
“H-hi,” you manage.
“Hi,” he replies. “Do you want to hear something stupid?”
Whatever you were expecting him to say, it certainly wasn’t that. “Um. Sure, I guess.”
Jungkook raises his hand, extending his pointer finger before jabbing it into the center of his chest. “It’s me. I’m stupid. I was brushing my teeth a few minutes ago, when I suddenly realized that I missed you. And that’s stupid, because I like you, and you like me, and you literally live on the other side of the living room.” Slowly, he glances up to meet your gaze, an expression of tentative hope painted across his features. “So, fuck taking things slow. Right?”
You’re already pressing to your tiptoes, fisting your hands in the collar of his white t-shirt to tug him down to your level. “Yeah,” you whisper, the butterflies in your belly taking off into celebratory flight. “Fuck taking things slow.”
Kissing Jungkook is quickly becoming one of your favorite things to do. His chest is bare beneath your fingertips, a canvas of honeyed skin and strong muscle for you to explore, and you take full advantage as he works your lips apart and licks ardently into your mouth. Wandering hands crawl beneath the hem of your oversized t-shirt, pushing up the material to expose the swell of your breasts. Your nipples pebble at the exposure, and Jungkook groans as he rids you of your shirt entirely before leaning in to envelop one in his warm, wet mouth.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” he rasps, the vibrations of his voice sending a delicious shiver down the length of your spine. “Been thinking about how nice your tits always look—and fuck, this is better than I could’ve ever imagined.”
Breathlessly, you wind your arms around his neck, your fingers delving into his thick hair and tugging until he takes the hint and slants his mouth across yours once again. His hands settle below the swell of your ass, pulling you close, until you’re settled firmly in his lap with your legs on either side of his denim-clad thighs, his name escaping you in a sigh as he deepens the kiss.
Jungkook smiles against your lips. “Pretty girl,” he croons, pulling away just enough to murmur the words as his thumbs dip into the waistband of your panties. A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest when he discovers the growing wetness between your legs, two fingers skimming through the slick before he presses experimentally against your clit. Your hips jump at the pressure, and he smirks in satisfaction.
Ever so slowly, he gathers you up in his arms, shifting until he can lay you back against your mattress. The sheets rumple beneath you as he crawls up your body to plant a sweet kiss on your waiting mouth, before returning his attention to the soft spot on your clavicle that he’s already discovered, lavishing it with attention until you’re gasping.
Jungkook reads your body like it’s his favorite poem, exploring every line and stanza until he’s committed the words to memory and making note of every stutter and hitch in your breath. There’s an art in the way he repeats the motions that make you keen, and something sensual in the way his lips curl every time he pulls out a whimper. You’re trembling by the time he reaches the apex of your thighs, his fingers closing around the elastic of your panties and pulling them down and off your legs. Tossing them aside, he lays his hands on your knees, his gaze locking with yours as he spreads you open and settles into the space he’s created. Instinct has you trying to close your legs and embarrassment has you shying away from his stare, but he presses a fond kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh and soothes you with a soft murmur of your name.
“Don’t hide from me,” he breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”
Then he’s leaning in, and your breath hitches in your throat when he boldly licks a broad stripe up your exposed pussy. Your fingers fly down to his hair, tangling in the silky strands as he finds your clit and gives it an experimental suck. Pleasure flares in your belly, your hips jolting off the mattress, and Jungkook chuckles as he settles himself more comfortably and winds his arms around your legs to keep you spread open for him, the inky tattoos swirling around his right arm only emphasizing the muscle.
“I thought about this, too, y’know” he murmurs, circling your clit with his tongue before dipping down to your slit and lapping up the juices there. “Thought about how good you probably taste, and how pretty you’d look cumming on my tongue.” He inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering shut, and your cheeks warm when you see the slick coating his lips and chin. “And fuck, I was right. You taste fucking divine.”
It should be strange, hearing such filth spewing from your normally mild-mannered roommate’s lips. It should be odd, seeing him nestled between your spread thighs with his long hair in disarray, his eyes hooded and darkened into obsidian. But the strangest thing is that it doesn’t feel strange or odd—it feels good. Right. As if this is where you were meant to be, all along.
Warm palms smooth up your thighs, splaying against your belly. Jungkook leans down to press a soft kiss to your clit, his lips teasing at the sensitive little bundle of nerves, and when your hips jump in his grasp, he lets out a hoarse chuckle that rumbles straight to your core. Slowly, he moves down to your slit, alternating long licks along the length of your pussy with firm suction on your clit. Your body thrums beneath his ministrations, your legs beginning to tremble, and Jungkook doubly renews his efforts when your thighs clench a little tighter around his head. His wet, hot mouth returns to your clit in full force, and you keen out his name when a finger slips into your cunt and curls up in search of the spot that’s sure to unravel you completely.
Said man releases your clit for a split second to coo your name, his hot breath washing against your slick folds. “Come on, baby,” he rasps. “Wanna make you cum. Wanna taste you, so bad.”
And with that, he eases a second finger in with the first. His lips wrap around your clit again, mouthing at it in time with the steady cadence of his fingers, and your breath grows ragged when he finally finds the soft spot he’s been looking for. He focuses his full attention on it, digging deep until you’re quaking, and you gasp again.
“Jungkook, I’m—! Fuck—”
One last swirl of his tongue around your clit proves to be your undoing. You shake apart in his ironclad embrace, your walls clenching around his fingers, and he continues lapping at you even as your vision goes white with pleasure. By the time you come back down from your high, a second wave is already brewing in your belly, coiling tighter and tighter as Jungkook tirelessly sucks your clit back into his mouth.
Your second orgasm is stronger than the first—breaking like a wave and spreading to every vein in your body like wildfire. Jungkook helps you through it, whispering sweet words of praise into the skin of your inner thigh and petting slow, sure circles around your sensitive nub until you fall limp in his arms.
“Good?” he chuckles.
“Good,” you breathe back. “So good, Jungkook. Fuck.”
In any other situation, you’d be tempted to slap the self-satisfied grin off his face, but you decide he’s deserved it in this case. The growing strain in the crotch of his jeans tells you that he deserves something else too, and you sit up slowly, still feeling rather boneless. Jungkook watches raptly as you reach for the button of his jeans and pop it open, swallowing harshly when you brush against his clothed erection. Gently, his hands settle over yours, helping you push his jeans off his hips so he can kick them off entirely, and your mouth goes dry when the entirety of his deliciously thick cock is revealed, bobbing insistently against his lower stomach.
Ever so slowly, Jungkook presses you down into the mattress, your back against the pillows piled along the headboard of your bed. His gaze meets yours as he settles between your legs once more, and you find that you can’t look away as he takes his cock in his tattooed hand and slides the head through the slick gathered in your slit, spreading it up and down the length of your pussy. “Okay?” he whispers, soft as a feather.
“Okay,” you murmur. “Jungkook, please.”
He obliges. Slowly, he rocks forward, the thick head of his cock parting your walls, and your mouth falls open at the sheer size of him. The glide is made easier by the considerable slick from your previous orgasms, but there’s still the slightest pinch of discomfort as he pauses and leans down to press a fond kiss to the soft spot at your collarbone. “Breathe, baby,” he encourages lowly, and you do as he says, sucking in a lungful of air and willing your body to relax.
Little by little, the discomfort ebbs away, replaced by a throbbing ache for more. Your hips rock, another inch of his cock slipping into you, and Jungkook takes it as a sign to continue pressing forward until he’s seated inside your body. The surge of fullness knocks all the air out of your lungs and leaves you floating and breathless, your fingers scrabbling along his back for something to hold onto as you try to find solid ground again. Jungkook waits patiently, nosing along your neck and trailing kisses up your throat, and you sigh when his mouth slants across yours at last. Your lips part to receive him, and he licks into your mouth until you’re arching off the mattress, your curves meshing with his lines.
Nimble fingers drop down to your clit then, tracing slow circles around the sensitive nub. Your hips jolt, the motion unintentionally sending him deeper, and the pleasure that flares in your tummy tears a sharp moan from your throat. Deliberately, you rock against him, encouraging him to move, and Jungkook obliges with a hoarse grunt, his chest heaving as he pulls back until only the head of his cock remains nestled within your walls. His thumb finds your clit again, and you keen out his name when he surges forward at the same time he flicks across the sensitive bundle and sets all your nerves aflame.
Jungkook sets a slow, deliberate pace—one that has you clutching at the broad expanse of his back and gasping when he repeatedly hits the spot that has you seeing stars. The coil in your belly tightens with every thrust, the slick glide of his cock igniting your body and sending electricity dancing along your skin. A particularly hard rock of his hips sends you sliding backward on the mattress, and Jungkook grits out a groan when the motion jiggles the swell of your breasts. Leaning down, he catches a pebbled nipple in his mouth, and your back arches as he lavishes the nub with attention, desperately seeking out more contact.
When Jungkook’s thumb digs into your clit again, it proves to be too much. The sudden burst of pressure is accompanied by a harsh thrust that you practically feel in the back of your throat, and the combination sends you hurtling over the edge of your third orgasm of the night, wave after wave of white hot pleasure searing through your veins. Jungkook’s rhythm stutters as you clench wildly around him, and your name escapes him a hoarse groan as he follows you off the precipice, creamy warmth flooding your walls.
It takes a few long moments for the pleasure to recede, your breath slowing gradually and your eyes blinking open. Jungkook’s grin is wide, a chuckle escaping him as he wipes at the wetness slicking his bare chest, and your muddled brain wonders at the motion before the realization dawns, the horror following soon after.
“Oh my god.” You scramble back, your cheeks aflame, his softened cock slipping out from inside you as you bury your face in your hands. “I can’t believe I just—I mean, that’s never happened—”
Jungkook pulls your hands away and twines his fingers with yours, nosing at your neck until you finally work up the nerve to look at him. “Are you joking?” he asks. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”
You bury your face into the crook of his tattooed shoulder instead, shielding yourself in the inky petals and leaves. “It’s embarrassing, though.”
“No, it’s hot as fuck,” Jungkook corrects, his arms winding around your waist and pulling you close. “So why don’t we see if I can make you do it again?”
The sun has only just risen when you stir awake the next morning, roused by something that you can’t quite place. There’s a stifling warmth pressed against your back and a strong arm banded around your waist, and you can’t help but smile as you turn around in the embrace, coming face to face with your dark-haired roommate.
Jungkook is beautiful in this light—his hair like spilled ink against the cream of your pillows, the exposed skin of his neck and shoulders warm and golden. You can just barely make out the beginnings of his tattoos swirling along his right shoulder—a field of flowers curling up around the line of his collarbones. Gently, you reach out to run a fingertip along a delicately inked lily, tracing each petal.
When you pull back, Jungkook’s eyes are open, a slow smile curving across his face. “Hi,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse with sleep.
You smile back. “Hi.”
Beneath the covers, his arm tightens around your waist, his fingers tapping out a silent melody along the slats of your ribcage. “Sleep well?”
“Best night of sleep I’ve had in ages,” you admit, laughing. “You?”
“Honestly? Same.”
Yawning, Jungkook stretches his arms overhead and cranes around to grab his phone off the nightstand. Blearily, he wakes the screen and scans his notifications, his eyes narrowing as he zeroes in on one in particular. “Looks like our friend kimdaily’s back at it,” he says. “Have you seen?”
“No, I haven’t.” You shift a little closer to him and lay your head on his shoulder, relishing the way his arm immediately comes up to secure you in an embrace. “I turned off those notifications days ago.”
Jungkook’s answering grin is bright enough to rival the sun. Turning, he drops his phone back onto the nightstand before tugging you close and brushing a stray hair from your cheek. “So what now?” he asks. “Should we start thinking about breakfast?”
You lean in and press a long, lingering kiss to his mouth, your fingers already beginning to trail down past the ridges of his abdomen.
“Nah. Breakfast can wait.”
9K notes · View notes
aniqua · 2 months ago
When you see “English isn’t my first language…” just know the fic is going to be top-tier. Nonnative English speakers will always give a delicious fanfic.
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zibermuda · 7 months ago
canceled | jjk
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Summary — Jungkook has a passion for camo pants, science, and debating with strangers on the internet. Usually, he wins arguments, but when you show up in the comment section of one of his his blog posts, shit goes down and he's left wanting more than a virtual conversation.
Genre — smut (sci-blogger!jk, fashion-blogger!oc)
Words — 6,416
Warnings — jk masturbates to your photos, sending & receiving nudes, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex (in a library), jk spits on your pussy, lots of spit, drooling, biting, breath play, oral sex (male & female receiving), mentions of jk throat-fucking you & coming on your face, nipple play, cum eating, jk likes tits, jk is a little shit, PWP, swearing
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masterlist || request
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On a Thursday night, Jeon Jungkook — a cybersecurity major — is sat in his dorm-room with nothing else to do other than leisurely scroll through his social media feed. There’s not a lot going on in his mind right now either, aside from the odd thought about the girl who sits at the very front of his ‘Python Scripting’ class. She's fond of wearing tight tank tops and he's very fond of looking over her shoulder.
That’s when he sees it; a miscreant with the username 'frillsarecute2' has left a rather insolent comment underneath his latest blog post.
frillsarecute2 commented on your post: you sound dumb as hell.. tulips need a nutrient ratio of 10-10-10 and the fertiliser needs to be slow releasing.
Frills? He repeats to himself. Cute? Who the fuck is this?
Your profile picture is a seductive shot of your face and a tease of your bare shoulder (and a great one at that.) Jungkook has never once seen a girl like any of his posts, let alone comment on them. To him, the girl in your profile photo is way too hot to be anywhere near this section of the internet, so he’s quick to come to a ball-busting conclusion; your account is fake. But, more importantly, how dare this stranger over the internet call him dumb? What the fuck do you know about anything?
Without much rational thought, he clicks on your profile — not even bothering to scroll through your posts — and direct messages you.
[luck_master + frillsarecute2]
luck_master: who the fuck are you?? you don’t know anything about anything. it's 9-9-6.
With brows furrowed and fingers ready to attack the keyboard, he waits for your response. You could be anywhere in the world right now with a completely different timezone, but he wants an answer right this second. Exactly two minutes and twelve seconds later, you send in your response.
frillsarecute2: why are u so maddd!!
luck_master: i’m not mad bro you just need to get your facts right.
Jungkook took a plant biology broadening unit in his first year of college, so he sure as hell knows how plants and their functions go. He knows science like his dick knows his right hand. And, speaking of dicks in hands, he decides to close the chat for a moment to scroll through your posts. Further investigation, if you will.
Tits. Tits everywhere.
Whoever this chick is, he’s hot for her. Scattered all throughout your blog are photos of your body wrapped in various colours and cuts of lace. Other posts are of fashionable outfits, fresh gardens, and coffee art. But, why the fuck would he care about the latte you had last week? He sees more tits than he knows what to do with and his dick is very fucking happy about it.
Now, let’s get one thing straight. frillsarecute2 may be a greasy, forty year old man sitting in his mom’s basement, but Jungkook is a guy with raging hormones and these photos are of a woman he’d like to see naked.
frillsarecute2: u gonna cry? want me to read u a bedtime story? fucking baby.
luck_master: ayt man.. who’s that chick in your pfp?
frillsarecute2: me? lol.
luck_master: do you think i’m stupid? i could probably find her on pornhub.
frillsarecute2: ur literally so dumb!! im the girl in the photos.
luck_master: ok give me your snapchat and prove it.
frillsarecute2: my username is the same.
And so, he types up that exact username and sends a friend request your way. He truly, truly believes that he’s about to be sent a photo of some balding man with a dirty beard, but he doesn’t receive that image at all. This is exactly why he just about ascends into heaven and bursts out into gospel choir when you send him a snapchat of your face. You’re you, and jesus fucking christ, you are so hot.
luck_master: wtf???
frillsarecute2: do u feel bad for wanking to my photos now?
luck_master: i didn’t even look at your posts.
frillsarecute2: yeah u did, u fuckin virgin.
luck_master: stfu i’m not a virgin.
frillsarecute2: show me ur face and i’ll decide for myself.
Jungkook debates with himself, mostly because he is the epitome of internet safety. But, come on now, what harm are you gonna do to him? You’re just some girl over the internet with good angles and an even better lingerie collection.
He snaps a photo of himself — nothing special, just him looking at the camera like he wants to throw hands with the recipient — and then hits send. If there’s one thing to note about Jungkook, it’s that he doesn’t realise (or care to realise) just how attractive he is. If he spoke to girls on campus instead of looking at them from the corner of his eye, he’d be drowning in pussy and his dick would be on life support.
He dresses without a care in the world, but that’s exactly what makes him so stylish. Streetwear, basketball sneakers, combat boots, camo print, skull print; he has it all and he wears it so well. His fingers are littered with thick, silver, meaningless rings and his hair is usually jet-black and un-tame. Monochrome is his palette and girls like you are just his type.
frillsarecute2: yeah ur hot. i would fuck u.
Being who Jungkook is, he doesn't dwell on the accuracy of the comment, and instead uses it as a balloon pump for his inflatable ego. A hot girl called him hot, so he must be. A hot girl said she would fuck him, so he'd definitely get laid if you were here right now. That's how his mind works. It's black and white. He says what he means or he doesn't say anything at all.
He also plans on returning the compliment, but is swiftly interrupted by his friends and their booming group chat. So, instead of entertaining you, he fucks around in the messages app to discuss which system is best for running Adobe and the downfall of Hackintosh —
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— and then he logs off for the night.
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When the next morning rolls around, Jungkook performs his daily routine; ramming his finger against his screen to silence his 7:30AM alarm, rolling out of bed with a nest of hair, and taking on the day with his camo pants and combat boots. His first class of the day is ‘Systems Programming,’ which usually goes 15 minutes over-time because the professor rambles like a tinfoil-wearing, flat-earth-believing-ass, anonymous reddit user.
"Welcome back to this hellhole." The professor speaks into the microphone with a tired, monotone voice. His bright orange tie is slightly off-centre, too. "What am I here to teach you about today? Computer safety and security."
He continues. "As you all may know, you now have the option of sitting your exams in the comfort or discomfort of your own home. I know what you're thinking — what a good idea to write up some notes and cheat a little. But, despite what we all believe, this college isn't as stupid as they pan themselves out to be. They've already asked themselves — how do we make sure that students aren't cheating? The answer is to use invasive proctoring software that, on a base level term, acts exactly the same as malware. How? It grabs control of your webcam, your microphone, hooks into the deepest parts of your computer's operating system, and digs around in your directories. Now, let's get one thing straight. I don't condone trying to outsmart the college. I'm just here to show you that you could theoretically bypass monitoring software and better protect your data by use of a virtual machine.."
Blah blah blah. You get the point. His day revolves around quirky professors and lessons on computers and their functions.
Jungkook has another two classes today, and during the last ten minutes of the third class, his mind wanders to the chick he had briefly bickered with the night before; you.
He wonders what you're like in person, what you're studying, what your bra size might be, and what you could possibly sound like. Maybe you're super shy in real life, but then again, maybe you're fucking crazy and have a criminal record for stealing chapstick. Still, that's sexy and he would fuck you just the same if he had the chance. He then becomes curious and wonders if you've posted anything new for him to look at; perhaps a mirror shot of your ass or another full body shot of you in tight lace.
There's a student sitting next to and behind him, but, come on now.. these are cybersecurity majors we're dealing with! They've seen it all by now. Last week, a guy sitting at the front of the lecture theatre was watching hardcore hentai on his 13" laptop. Nobody even bat an eye and someone probably asked him for the title after class.
Anyways, back to you and your body.
Your latest post was at 9AM this morning and it's a shot of you in a white, summery dress. Bingo! The fabric is short and cuts off mid-thigh, and the cut of the dress shows off your cleavage and the tightness of your bra.
Jungkook is so immersed in investigating the contents of the photo that he doesn't even realise when he presses his knuckle against his front teeth. Why do pretty girls have such a grip on him? The sight of half of your bare thigh poking out from a dress is more than enough to make him horny and bite down on his skin to stifle a groan.
Class no.3 is quick to come to an end, but he’s even quicker to head back to his dormitory. Any bystander would think he’s late for an exam or an important interview, but no, he's just very eager to get himself off to the thought of some random chick he met over the internet.
Let's get another thing straight; Jungkook feels very little shame when it comes to masturbation. He doesn't care which porn website he has to visit to get a professional shot of a woman's tits, or if said website is Instagram and he's scrolling through the feed of the girl from his 'Python Scripting' class.
Today, he has an added option; your blog. The two of you may have bickered like angry, thirteen-year-old minecrafters yesterday, but he's more than capable of letting that go to use your photos as a stimulant.
So, with his phone in hand and his back comfortably resting on his dormitory bed, he opens up your blog and scrolls to his heart's content. There's an art to your photos and he expresses his appreciation by unbuttoning the thick fabric of his camo pants. The photos aren't always in HD quality, but the colour scheme is always well thought-out and visually pleasing.
A particular image catches his eye; you snuggled in-between fluffy throws with tight, red lingerie wrapped around your tits and hips. He can't see your face in this one, but he can see the exposed skin of your neck, the bare skin of your thighs, and a stomach he'd like to come on.
His imagination takes him to a whole different place; heaven, if you will. So, with the waistband of his pants pushed below his hips, his hand wrapped firmly around his cock, and his stroke game at 100%, he visualises. He visualises running his hands underneath all that lace, how hot your tits would look with his mouth all over them, and how wet and tight your pussy probably is. God, you'd probably smell so nice, too. Pretty girls like you always smell nice. He then wonders how many people in your real life know about your risqué blog. Two? Seven? A hundred? Fuck, that just makes it even hotter.
A breathy "fuck" escapes his lips as he slows his pace to run his thumb over the tip of his cock. Pre-cum coats his fingers, but it's hardly enough to lubricate the entire length. So, like he usually would, he runs his tongue along his gums and spits into his hand. And, as he slowly rubs his saliva-slick palm down his girth, he shuts his eyes and imagines your mouth taking over. You probably give such good head and you'd probably look so fucking hot with lock-jaw and mascara running down your eyes.
At this point, his chest is heaving, his breath is erratic, and he's bucking his hips into his right hand. He's on the very edge of glory. The muscles in his thighs and abdomen tighten with each stroke, and the breathy moan he emits could make any pretty vixen salivate at the mouth. Yes, I’m talking about you.
He's so fucking close, he can practically taste the victory. This is about to be his best orgasm yet, but then, your username pops up on his screen and he's swiftly beaten back to reality by a very hard, virtual, metal bat. He's sat somewhere between pissed off and even hornier — considering he literally just edged himself.
frillsarecute2: i must say.. ur blog is pretty informative.
The least he can do is reply to you in a timely manner. He is using your photos to get himself off, after all.
luck_master: thanks, i'm pretty smart.
frillsarecute2: doubt. what u up to?
luck_master: netflix.
frillsarecute2: liarrr. u literally just liked one of my posts from 3 months ago.
Now, let's paint the scene right now; Jungkook's hand is wrapped around the base of his cock, his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and he's looking a little worried. Why? Because, five minutes ago, his thumb accidentally nudged his phone screen more than once. Well, what does that mean? He liked that photo of you in your red lingerie; the photo from three fucking months ago.
luck_master: uhhhhhh that was an accident.
frillsarecute2: maybe, but why were u so far down my blog?
You've caught him now. How is he supposed to wiggle his way out of this one? He considers leaving you on read, throwing his phone out the window, or literally microwaving himself out of awkwardness. But then, it occurs to him that your blog is public. Public = anyone can view it. This also means that you must know that people are gonna use your photos to get themselves off. Why else are you posting such filthy images and reblogging even filthier gifs? Your entire blog is a thirst-trap and a fucking good one at that.
luck_master: getting a good look.
frillsarecute2: did i interrupt something?
luck_master: you ever heard of edging?
frillsarecute2: i invented that. can i send u a photo?
Jungkook doesn't know what just hit him. A photo of what? Your face? Your middle finger? Your tits? Jesus fuck, please be a photo of your tits. That'd be exclusive content and that'd definitely be enough for him to finish what he started.
luck_master: please.
A minute passes and it feels like an eternity, but once he sees that little, red square next to your username, he knows it was worth the wait. An image of you fills his screen and his cock stiffens at the sight. Your hand is lifting up your shirt to reveal the pretty skin of your chest and the lacy fabric your bra. It looks expensive, but more importantly, it looks fucking sexy and it eggs on his hand to move against his throbbing cock.
frillsarecute2: send me something.
He isn’t entirely sure what you’d want to see. Maybe the muscles of his abdomen, his pecs, his face, his cock, or his thick thighs. He’s never sent an explicit image of himself before, let alone receive one from somebody else. It’d be so much easier if you were here in person. Fuck, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.
Another red square appears next to your name and his finger is quick to tap against it. Right in front of his eyes is a video of your hips wrapped in lace and the cock-stuttering movements of your fingers. They dance down your sternum, down your stomach, and then slide underneath those pretty panties. He wants to be those fingers. In fact, he wants to replace them with his tongue and sit between your thighs for hours on end. You’d probably taste so fucking good.
He isn’t a taker, but a giver, so he opens up the camera and positions his phone at an angle that captures more than one treat; not only is his hand wrapped around his thick cock, but his shirt is lifted slightly to reveal his deep v-line and defined abdomen. The muscles of his thighs are on full display, too.
His dormitory curtains are drawn shut and remain that way for the entirety of most days. And, as a result, dark shadows have cast themselves unto the room to further carve out and define his features. He then presses his thumb against the record button and captures 15 seconds of footage, to which you open with just as much enthusiasm.
As you watch him hastily stroke his cock and listen to the sound of his stuttered breath, you quicken the pace of your own fingers against your clit. There's so much to look at; his hand is big and you'd like to see it stuffed between your thighs, his fingers are littered with silver rings, and his cock is thick in girth and long in length. The camo pants are an added bonus. Visually, he's your type.
The pair of you take turns in sending each-other videos until somebody can’t take it anymore and comes first. Spoiler; it’s him. And, when he comes, his hips stutter and he emits a deep, velvety groan. There’s something about men and their moans that make situations like these a whole lot sexier. His in particular.
Cum drips down the tip of his cock and runs over his fingers, and you can’t help but nurture a desire to run your tongue along his skin and lick him clean. He’d probably love that. His voice is deep, too. Holy fuck, this dumb idiot with a messy blog has it all. It makes you wonder what city he lives in and how long it would take for you to drive there, but more importantly, it makes you rub your clit until you reach your own orgasm. And, despite him already having reached his, he continues to send you videos of him spreading cum down the length of his softening cock.
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It happens again and it happens for an entire week.
Each day, somebody initiates a conversation, it turns sexual very quickly, and next thing you know, you have your panties pushed down your thighs and your phone positioned to take shots of your body. Jungkook does the same, but he grows more confident with being vocal in his videos. On the fourth day, he speaks an entire sentence as he's on the verge of an orgasm. Hand on heart, you swear you've never heard anything so sexy.
"Fuck, you're so hot." Is what he says. How'd he say it, though? With a breathy voice that was dripping in sex and laced with a need for you.
And, when you send him a video of you fucking yourself with your fingers, you make sure to be just as generous.
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On the eighth day, Jungkook is sat in the library with a hefty textbook on JavaScript and a notebook full of complex equations. He’s dressed in monochrome camo pants, a black sweater with a skull printed on the back, and black combat boots. Fuckable. Very fuckable.
Sitting at the same study table are the boys; Namjoon and Hoseok. Aside from working on their joint assignment for the past hour and a half, they've also been bickering about the quality of the new Avengers game.
“Looks clean. Runs alright minus the stuttering every-time it tries to load.” Namjoon says as he stacks his textbooks and tucks his chair back underneath the desk like a good samaritan.
The three of them pack up the rest of their things and make their way through the busy library. A lot of students are sat in here with furrowed brows and cups of overpriced coffee on hand. Why? Finals are next week and bitches are sleep deprived.
"The graphics are awful." Hoseok argues as he catches up with the two boys. "Why have we reached a point where we allow such fucking degeneracy?"
Jungkook chimes in with a jestful remark, which ends with him being captured by Hoseok and held in a headlock. "The only issue with the game is that it's being run on your garbage computer."
"My PC is bad? Mine?" Hoseok tightens his grip around Jungkook’s neck as they stumble toward the library exit. "My RTX 2080 i9 9900k 64 gigs of ram ssd? You kept disconnecting from Mario Kart because your microwave of a fucking computer couldn't handle more than 4 pixels."
The three of them are causing a ruckus; laughing to their hearts content and play-fighting like pubescent pre-teens. Come to think of it, you've definitely compared him to a 'pubescent miscreant' during a heated debate about something stupid, probably.
Jungkook hasn't spoken to you today, but he plans on sending you a message during the evening. It could go two ways; he could ask you how your day was or he could ask you to spit on your fingers and send him a video of you fucking yourself. A little friendship has sparked from this online interaction, not just the production of home-made porn. Mostly porn, but some friendship. The pair of you still bicker about plant biology, but that's just an accelerator for the sexual tension. You tried to tell him that purple tulips don't exist (just to rile him up) and he swore he never wanted to choke out a girl so much in his life. You're such a vixen, you know exactly what to say t—
“Do I know you?” Your pretty voice snaps the boys from their play-time, and as Jungkook looks up at you from the grasp of Hoseok’s headlock, his face drops. Standing in front of him is you in all your glory. You look the same as your photos and he can already tell that you're wearing lace by the way it peeks out from the bust of your mini dress. "You look really familiar.”
Jungkook comes off as nonchalant, but inside, he’s going into cardiac arrest. Out of everything that could ever happen ever, this happens; you share the same college. You, your tits, and your thighs have been walking around on this very campus. How could he even miss that? "Doubt it."
"You sure about that?" You've already taken notice of the thick, silver rings on his fingers. There's one on his thumb, his index finger, and his ring finger. Aside from being really hot, they look awfully familiar. “Luck master.”
His username rolls of your tongue and he swears his dick twitches at the sound. And, as he breaks free from Hoseok’s hold and straightens his posture, you get a better look at him. He’s taller than you, lean with honey skin, and has jet-black hair that’s a little dishevelled from earlier. If you weren’t attracted to him from a weeks worth of sexting, you’re definitely attracted to him now.
Namjoon and Hoseok have both acknowledged that you’re hot as fuck, but they also want to head back to their dorm-rooms to play Cyberpunk 2077. Being who they are and what their hobbies are, the latter interests them a little bit more. They don’t dwell, but they don’t leave without slapping Jungkook over the back of the head and giving him the eyes. The eyes = My man! Go ahead and get your dick sucked!
You know him. This is definitely luck_master. You never forget a face like his.
And, when he tilts his head and offers you an amused grin, you know for a fact that he knows you, too. It’s not until he flicks his eyes to your chest that you make a pussy-dampening realisation; he's real and so is his dick.
"Why'd you lie, luck?" You fold your arms over your chest; tightly enough for your breasts to press together and feed his eager eyes. "Thought you'd be eager to tell your little friends about all the action you've been getting."
"I didn't lie, frills." He amuses himself with his response. It’s evident by the way he tries to stifle his growing grin. “Technically speaking, you don’t know me.”
"You’re such a little shit."
“Yeah? Well, you look hotter in person.” He says, completely void of shame.
Let's get another thing straight; Jungkook isn't shy about a lot of things. He spent most of his childhood voice-chatting with strangers during intense online games of Black Ops: Zombies, so he's well past his fear of strangers and public humiliation. He doesn't care about mindless gossip, Channel 9's boring take on petty crime, or how other people live their lives. He sent you multiple videos of himself coming onto his own stomach, for gods sake, so he might as well speak to you like he has been over the internet.
Jungkook steps out of the way to let a student pass by, and as he does, he lightly places his hand on your waist to move you, too. "I guess this means the fun is over."
Maybe, but it doesn't have to be. The pair of you spent the past week being cagey about your real names and locations, but that's just not an option anymore. He's standing right in front of you with his fingers ghosting your waist and his pretty, brown eyes gazing into your own. Theyre doe-like and make you want to squeeze his cheeks, but they also hold the same mischievousness you're conditioned to.
"Does it have to be?" A smile plays on your lips and you hold that same smile as you make a not-so-subtle offer. “Study room 5 is free for the next fifteen minutes. Just saying.”
You don’t have to tell him twice, nor do you have to beg. In fact, you don’t even have to ask. His hormones have such a tight grip over him and he even ends up being the first one to make it to the private study room. It’s not as big as a full-sized classroom, but is large enough to hold a bookshelf and a 12-seated meeting desk. There are windows, too, that allow students to look in and out of the room. But, with windows come blinds and the option of drawing them shut. There’s no reason to keep wasting these valuable fifteen minutes.
He kisses you fervently — like his tongue doesn't know any better, like his saliva wants to replace your own — and immediately cups your breasts through your dress. His fingers eagerly tug down the bust of your dress to reveal your lace-clad skin. And, as much as he loves the sight of you covered in lace, he wants it off so he can clamp his mouth over your nipples and stimulate them with his tongue.
Your own fingers run underneath his sweater to trace the definitions of his abdomen, and then trail lower to unbutton the thick fabric of his camo pants. His cock is warm and rock hard against your touch, and as soon as you trace the length with your fingers, his mouth falls open against your own.
"Fuck, please touch me.." His voice is breathless against your lips. You knew his cocky act would come tumbling down as soon as you laid a finger on him. After all, he has been fantasising about this moment constantly for eight days straight.
You sink to the floor, and with your not-so-innocent eyes trained on his, you grasp the base of his cock and run your tongue along the length; coating his skin with your saliva. You place kitten kisses on his cock, swirl your tongue against the tip, and take as much of him into your mouth as humanly possible, all while keeping those pretty eyes on his.
Each time your tongue runs along his sensitive slit, he takes a sharp intake of air and tries his hardest to keep his voice low and breathy. "Oh, fuck me.. You're good at this.."
And, when you take his cock deep into your mouth, he fights the urge to fuck your throat. At this point, both of his hands have found refuge gripping the back of your neck and it's growing near impossible to stifle the knot in his stomach.
Saliva has gathered at the corners of your lips, as well as the inescapable smudging of your mascara. He knew it; he knew you'd look this way whilst giving him the head he spent the past week fantasising about. But, he can't fucking take it anymore.
He wraps his fingers around your throat and uses the advantage to pull you back to your feet. He's quick to capture your lips in another filthy kiss and run his hands underneath your dress. He can feel lace against the pads of his fingers, but more importantly, he can finally rub his fingers against your clothed pussy and feel your panties dampen at his touch. The muffled moan you emit is a clear indicator that you like what he’s offering.
You know him, but you hadn't known him like this. You'd known his messy, scientific blog, his thighs, and his camo pants. But, you definitely hadn't known him backing you against the nearest desk and sliding your panties down your legs and off at the feet.
"So pretty." He mutters, mostly to your bare pussy. "So, so pretty."
Jungkook grips your bare thighs and allows his saliva to drip from his slightly swollen, pink lips. Slowly, his spit runs down your skin, coating your pussy in more than your own arousal. The act alone is filthy enough to taunt the ball of fire growing in your stomach, but once he leans down to run his tongue along and open-mouth kiss your clit, that feeling amplifies by twenty.
He listens to your stuttered breath and your low whines to ensure that you're getting your bang for your buck. He's definitely getting his.
"What's— fuck." Your own throat betrays you, especially once he adds his fingers to the mix; he runs his index finger between your folds, spreads them wide, and drags his tongue firmly against your entrance. He'd be an idiot to let any of this free honey go to waste. "What's your real name?"
You sound like the worlds shyest porn-star, but he can't blame you. The two of you are separated from the general public by a very thin and very sound-permeable wall. If you're any louder, the librarians will surely hear and you'd be hit over the head with multiple encyclopaedias.
"Jeon Jungkook." The vibrations from his voice play their role in stimulating your clit, as does the coy eye contact he holds during the delivery of the upcoming compliment. "You taste as good as you look, by the way."
Eye contact; you can't get enough of it. But, Jungkook already knows that. He spent a lot of time scrolling through your blog and taking note of all the filthy quotes and idioms that are scattered all throughout. Breath play; you like that, too. He recalls a particular gif. Messy fucking kissing; it's enough to make your pussy soak itself and stick to your panties. He knows. You mentioned that in the hashtags of one of your reblogs.
Looking at your pretty face, low eyes, and parted lips, he knows he has to fuck you. Everything about you is a stimulant; your filthy tongue, your mischievous eyes, your tight, little pussy. The list goes on, but if he keeps fantasising instead of doing, he'll come before he has the chance. His cock is violently hard and begging to be stimulated, as if it wasn't abused by your mouth just five minutes prior.
"Yours?" He tugs you to the edge of the desk by your hips and pumps his cock a few times to prep himself. He doubts he's going to last very long stuffed inside of you, but he's gonna give it a good fucking go. There’s always time for round two, three, seven, and ten back at his dormitory. Now that he thinks about it.. maybe your dorm would be better. He's not sure how sexy you'd find his shrine of anime figurines and video game character posters.
"YN." You wrap your arms around his thick neck and further spread your legs in anticipation. Your pussy is slick with his saliva and the sight of it is enough to make a grown man cry. Jungkook can't keep his eyes off of it. "I'm a first year Psychology major."
"Suits you.” He pulls his eyes away from your slick pussy to look at your pretty face. Fuck, you're so fucking pretty. The fact that you're as freaky as you are makes you even better. You're his type and he wants to fuck you like you are. "Cybersecurity. Second year.”
That explains why he never ran into you during classes or second year events, but it doesn’t explain why his cock isn’t stuffed deep inside of you yet. He can barely contain his urges, let alone wait to finally fuck you. So, with his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his fingers guiding the tip of his cock, he watches as his girth pushes past your folds and sinks deep into your pussy. The stretch is delicious, as is the way your nails sink into the back of his neck and the unified sounds of your moans.
"My god— Shit.. you're so big." Is what breathlessly falls from your lips.
He starts off slow, letting you adjust to the size of his cock, and watches with furrowed brows as your skin stretches to take him. It's mesmerising to him. You're just as tight and wet as he fantasised you to be. Maybe even more.
"Can't get enough of you. Think about you all the time." His lips and chin are coated in your arousal, but that doesn't stop him from kissing you like he's trying to steal all the air from your lungs. He slips his tongue into your mouth and demands the same gesture, to which you return without hesitation.
The kiss is filthy. Entirely. You've never kissed somebody this way and he definitely hasn't. He had a short-term girlfriend in high school and lost his virginity to her at a techno-themed birthday party. It wasn't that great. He came after three strokes and she broke up with him swiftly after. It is what it is. He's had a lot of practice with his hands ever since.
Jungkook breaks the kiss to catch his breath, and as he does, a string of saliva connects both of your mouths. It swiftly breaks and drips down your chin, and he can’t help but visualise painting your face with his cum. You'd look so pretty.
"Can I— Can I take you out?" He pants with his forehead pressed against your shoulder and his hips hastily bucking into yours. A little saliva creeps from his lips and slowly trickles down your skin, but he doesn’t care. All he can feel is your nails in his skin, the heaving of your chest, and your pussy wrapped tightly around him. He’ll drool if he wants to.
"Mm.. Fuck— Yeah." You rake your fingers through his hair and bathe in the delicious feeling of being fucked this way. Your pitchy whines are of equal stature.
He fucks you like you owe him money, like your pussy did him wrong. And, with each hasty thrust, he sinks as deep into you as possible before pulling out and slamming back inside. His skin is warm and slaps against your own with each movement. You can't get enough. It makes your back arch and your pussy clench.
This guy is so fucking hot. His black hair is hanging over his furrowed eyebrows, his lips are parted, his breathing is erratic, his groans are dripping in sex, and his hands grip onto your skin like he knows exactly what he wants. Mind you, he does; he's currently deep inside of it.
"Ah, so tight.. You're gonna make me come." He groans and he swears he feels tears of joy coming on. How is it that he was blessed with the opportunity to meet you? You could've met anybody. You could've commented on any other blog, but you decided on his. Maybe he really is the luck master. "I can't—."
Once that familiar ball of fire taunts his stomach, he tightens his grip on your thighs and quickens the pace of his hips. The only thing he can think about is you. Your skin is so soft, your hair is so pretty, and your moans are so fucking sexy. He can't get enough of you.
"Oh, fuck.. Y/N." He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and tries his hardest to stifle his vocals. Your pussy has such a tight grip over him and there's no fucking way he's gonna last another minute. When it comes to you, he doesn't need any foreplay. Simply hearing his name fall from your lips would be enough to have his cock standing at attention. "I'm gonna—."
"Come in me." Is all you have to say for his hips to stutter and his cock to twitch inside of you. You're on the pill, so let's thank the medical field for that one. "Mm.. I wanna feel you."
He halts the movements of his hips and stuffs his cock as far into your pussy as he can. And, with the warm skin of his hips pressed tightly against your inner thighs, he comes inside of you. A deep groan follows in suit, but you're quick to muffle it with your lips.
Despite his breathlessly, he still kisses you like you're the only girl in the world, all while prepping himself to spend the next 6 minutes tongue-fucking your pussy until you come in his mouth. "I'm so glad you commented on my blog.. even though you were fucking wrong."
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permanent taglist — @zeharilisharaban @ayumimegami @philostuff @carolsummerlove@piaesthetic @viokook @bangtan-serendipity@kookie-monsteur@codeinebelle@omot7 @jeon-ggukkie@prdshobi @kookoo-kachoo@goldenlilyz @chiminies-noona@callmeyourstarrynight @minbinwhore @jiminxjimout @rjsmochii @waves-and-woods @dayjeons​ @hip-hop-phile @ggukkieland @preciouschimine
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venusiangguk · 3 months ago
idealizations concerning real life relations | jjk (m)
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>>pairing: jungkook x reader / fuckboy!jk x hopeless romantic!oc
>>genre: s2l, fwb, smut, angst
>>word count: 40.9k besties i am so sorry
>>warnings: jk is so sweet, but also so evil lmao, oc lives in her little noggin, angsty fwb, drug and alcohol use, tattoos, multiple smut scenes that include: oral (m/f), fingering (f), light face slapping (with hand and cock??), praise, degradation, marking, dirty talk, so many creampies yum, multiple orgasms, kissing :(, cumming in pants :), probably more but i cant think of it, ok other stuff now, manipulation, infidelity, oc thinks jk is made of stars :(, jk thinks she is so pretty :(, misunderstandings, some fluff if you squint, brunette jk, blonde jk, n blue jk,  1 mentions of: howls moving castle, too many mentions of: stars, the color pink
>>notes: bruv i do not have anything to say for myself EXCPET that i worked v hard on her and i really hope u like it <3 beta: @birbdae​ tysm for dealing with this, she is long lmao >>> soundtrack
this is split up by seasons, so if 40k is a lot for one sitting, you can read one season at a time if that is easier :)
>>summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.
 Souls are stars. Half of a star to be exact. Clearly this means your soulmate, or whatever shares the other half. 
 When you die, your body becomes the earth. The trees, the flowers, the grass. Dirt. And your soul becomes stardust that ascends back to its rightful place in the night sky until the other half of your star meets you there. 
 And there you stay until it’s your time to live again. You’re then a falling star. Shooting, flying, breaking apart as you soar across the sky. Pieces of you and them scattered who knows where, some pieces falling longer than others, some finding their place on the earth immediately. Until the universe decides to bring you back to one another. Born again. Together again. If you’re lucky enough to meet in this lifetime. But if not in this one, then perhaps the next. Or maybe you were together in the one before. Maybe it’s guaranteed. Once a lover, always a lover. In this life and in the next. 
 Who knows? You sure as hell don’t. 
 It doesn’t make sense. The way you think about the stars and the people around you. You know that. It’s not like you live by it or anything. You don’t even like space. Know that realistically stars are just gas and that when they fall from the sky they are dying, not reincarnating. They smash into the ground and then. Poof. Gone forever, nothing but a black hole left behind. You also know that soulmates are a fairytale at best and a beautifully spun cruel web of lies at worst. 
 But being a part of a star and having a… person sounds a lot better to you than eternal damnation or a forever of nothing but void darkness. 
 “Iced Hazelnut macchiato sub oat milk for __!”
 Blushing Brews is hectic but the barista is a smiling little caffeine fairy granting your wish for energy in the form of a small plastic cup. You smile as you take the drink from him. His smile is blinding, it hurts to look at him directly.
 You think that maybe not everyone is part of a star and that maybe some are just random, pointless space rocks that fall to earth. But not the barista. He’s definitely part star.
 “Thanks,” you say.
 You shuffle through the people waiting for their drinks and take a seat at your usual table. The whole coffee shop is quaint and cute, the chairs vintage and upholstered in different shades of velvet fabric. The tables have dried flowers and flakes of gold encapsulated in them. Your table is a little to the left next to the large window, with the order station still in view. You get to people watch the folks outside and person watch the one inside, only one soul able to hold your attention indoors. Aside from the friends sat with you at your table of course. You stir your drink.
 “I bet his cum tastes like the oat milk he puts in my coffee.” You stare at the barista behind the counter, innocently just doing his job, oblivious to the way he glows so bright. “Thick and creamy... kinda sweet...” 
 “You are so-” Taehyung starts. 
 “Disgusting. She’s disgusting,” Yoongi finishes for him. If the barista is a star, Yoongi is a space rock.
 You raise your eyebrows, contemplative. He’s not wrong. Dirty, nasty, disgusting. You’re all of the above. But you’re also a hopeless romantic. Forever in love with the idea of love and all the different parts of it. Always looking at every aspect of life, through rose-tinted glasses. If you wanted to idealize the barista’s sperm, you would. Who was Min Yoongi to stop you? You take a sip of the coffee the barista prepared for you. “You know he never charges me extra for it, even though he’s supposed to.”
 “He should. Considering he could probably get in trouble and also how you objectify him.” Yoongi grimaces as he downs his black espresso.  
 “I don’t objectify him, I romanticize him. I simply observe him and speak everything that goes on in my pretty little head.” Both of your friends give you a flat stare. “Okay, it’s not like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” He may not know the extent of his charm, but you know he knows he’s charming. “He has a whole sleeve and wears massive stompers to crush hearts. What’s he doing working in a coffee shop?”
 “His job?”
 “No. He’s trying to subtly leave an impression on unsuspecting creative writing majors that never had a strong male figure in their life, just so he can further ingrain in their head that while he is breathtaking, and makes an incredible iced hazelnut macchiato sub oat milk, he will surely leave just like everyone else, only to become a distant pink memory that they can’t forget, no matter how hard they try and how insignificant.”
 “He doesn’t even know your name,” Taehyung says, with a roll of his eyes.
 “How can you go from talking about his nut to calling him breathtaking and pink?” Yoongi pulls his laptop out, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.
 “Of course he knows my name. Also. You know what else I bet is pink? His big fat-”
 “Shut up.”
 You hum, swiftly transitioning. “I’m multifaceted and the definition of dichotomy.” Out comes your notebook. You could at least look like you’re being productive. “I only handwrite poetry and I pull over when I see a field of flowers and I think we are all made of stars, but I also like getting railed and degraded, as well as emotionally demeaned,” You pause, thinking for just a moment, “Though that’s more for my art than anything. Duality.”
 “You’re something, that’s for sure. Don’t look now but barista baby is walking this way.”
 Barista baby. A pastel feeling starts to creep its way over your skin, leaving goosebumps, and a blush in its wake. You glance in the direction of the counter and sure enough, during a lull in traffic he’s out from behind the counter and he looks like he’s coming directly for you. His big black pants that are decorated with a chain jingle as he takes heavy steps with boot-clad feet. Maybe you’re dramatic but you think you can see a trail of stardust behind him. You look away. Too bright.
 “Hey, can I clear these cups for you?” he asks, reaching for Yoongi’s empty one, and Taehyung’s mostly full one. His voice is deep and as soft as the velvet you’re sitting on. He pauses when he feels the weight of Taehyung’s cup. “Oh sorry about that.” He sets it back down.
 “Take it, he doesn’t even like coffee, he just gets it for the aesthetic. He’s an art major.” You roll your eyes, sipping your drink.
 “Why do you add my major at the end of every insult?” Taehyung groans at you before turning to the barista. “Do you even know her name?”
 “Taehyung!” you gasp. Yoongi’s laughing quietly next to you, typing away.
 The barista looks between you and your friend hesitantly before saying. “Of course I do, it’s __. She comes in here like at least 3 times a week.”
 Taehyung sniffs and you beam.
 “Do you know my name?” the barista quizzes.
 Your eyes flicker from his face down to the little chalkboard name tag attached to the mauve apron that he’s wearing over his short sleeve black shirt. ‘JK ♥’ is written in pink chalk. Cute.
 “Yeah it’s JK,” you say, leaning forward on the table, giving him your full attention.
 He smirks. “Don’t let my manager hear that. It’s actually Jeongguk.”
 “Well, Jeongguk, you would not believe what __ had to say about the oat milk you guys have here. She said-” Taehyung starts.
 “I said,” you cut him off shooting him daggers, “That it’s super thick and creamy, really yummy.”
 “Speaking of oat milk,” Jeongguk says unfazed, “You literally break my heart every time you stir that drink.” He leans forward bracing his hands on the table, kinda crowding your space, and nods his head in the direction of your half-empty, light brown coffee.
 ‘You literally break my heart every time you look at me.’ You think. You slow blink at him. “Why is that?”
 “It’s supposed to be consumed in layers.” His eyes are twinkling, and his smile is just a little crooked.
 You hum, thoughtfully. “Would it make you happy if I consumed it in layers?” You look up at him through your eyelashes. He’s trying to suppress a smile, his shoulders shaking lightly with poorly concealed laughter.
 Taehyung fights back a gag as he chokes on the tension radiating off of you and Jeongguk. Quickly he raises to his feet, and snatches Yoongi’s laptop right from his hands, tucking it underneath his arm before he’s pulling the older boy out of his seat. 
 “Yoongi I just remembered that we need to finish that project-“
 “Tae you’re an art major, and I’m an engineering major. Our classes are in completely different buildings. There’s actually no plausible way for that to be believable and I would literally never pick you as my partner. One because you…” They fade out as they get closer to the door, making their exit.
 Jeongguk glances at the newly free seat before peeking at the counter. Still no queue. He takes it upon himself to sit. He places his chin on his hands, tattoos and rings on full display. “Yeah. It would.” He states plainly.
 You shift in your seat. It’s so hard to look at a star close up. You squint. “What if that made me not happy?” It truly would ruin your day. Why would you drink straight oat milk, and then straight espresso when you could mix it and enjoy both flavors at once?
 He searches your features before cocking his head to the side, a tiny closed-lip smile on his face. “What would make you happy then?”
 Your heartbeat is fast and heavy and you can hear it in your ears, everything else subdued and muted. You bring a well-manicured hand down trace at one of the blossoms in the table. You can’t look at him anymore, not when you say it. With faux confidence you speak, “You could take me out.” 
 You see him tense in your peripheral. You’re still tracing the flower, breath stuck in your throat. 
 “No,” he says. Your hand jerks, ruining the perfect petals you’ve been outlining. You recover quickly, clearing your throat.
 “You could take me out.”
 Your head whips up. Eyes wide and doe-like before you get your composure. You scoff. “What’s the difference? Also, why haven’t you talked to me before?”
 He looks like he’s thinking, a brief flicker of something flashes in his eyes, gone too fast for you to place it. He looks like he’s settling when he says, “I like to be pursued.” 
 A smile slowly graces your lips. You nod. “Fair enough.”
 He brings his hand down and brushes his pinky against your finger that was tracing the flower. It’s weird how your whole body burns hot and ignites from such a small touch. “I gotta go,” he says, tone soft and hazy and baby pink. 
 You glance towards the door just as a couple walks in. You purse your lips and make a soft agreeing noise.
 Jeongguk raises from his seat, smoothing out his apron. He’s walking away when you speak up.
 “Why don’t you ever charge me for the oat milk?”
 He glances back at you, a radiant star-filled smile on his face. “To make you happy.”
 A small rush of air pushes past your lips as you watch him walk away. You wonder if anyone has ever been successful when pursuing a star. 
 You do your best to get to work, though your eyes keep flickering to the counter. Jeongguk catches you just once or twice. Each time he smiles and looks away, focusing once again on the orders he’s being given. 
 The couple that interrupted your and Jeongguk’s conversation ends up sitting a few tables away. Not close enough for you to hear, but close enough for you to watch. Ever the daydreamer, you wonder what they are saying. What should we get for lunch? Did you call your mom like you said you would? Do you want to stay the night? Are you the other half of my star?
 The girl is offering the boy a sip of her drink, his hand coming up to cover hers as he guides it to his mouth. She smiles big, eyes half crescents, when he nods in approval, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek, grinning into it. They settle into a conversation, hands moving, heads shaking.
 You close your notebook and head to campus. Jeongguk doesn’t notice you’ve left until a few hours later.
 “Fancy seeing you here!”
 You jump, almost knocking over your coffee and glance next to you to see the beautiful boy who scared you. 
 Jeongguk is fresh-faced with his eyes brighter than ever, and he smells like freshly ground coffee beans. The expensive imported kind. From Colombia or something. Maybe Paris. You think a pretty boy like Jeongguk would look good in Paris. Anywhere beautiful really. A beautiful boy in a beautiful place. It just makes sense. He’s still got his apron on and his hair is tied up today, little flyaways framing his face like a halo. 
 “Is it really?” you ask, trying to sound bored. Trying to quiet the butterflies in your tummy. 
 You’ve got your laptop with you. No distractions in the form of pointless scribbles or poorly written couplets about boys with coffee eyes and kisses that probably taste like coffee to match, today! You’ve got a Humanities paper due in about 8 hours.
 “I guess not, considering you’re here literally all the time.” He grins and scoots closer. “What are you doing?”
 “I have a paper due later, so I’m just finishing that up.” You ignore the scoff he makes when he sees you’ve barely got half a page written.
 Jeongguk reaches to his other side and offers up a new coffee, figuring yours would be watered down by now. Considering you’ve been here since opening. It's particularly quiet for a Friday, but the lull in business is always welcome. Jeongguk glances to the counter at the storefront, only to find that Jimin’s staring and when he catches Jeongguk’s eye, he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Jeongguk smiles a tiny grin, but other than that, the other barista is swiftly ignored.
 You take the coffee with a small ‘Thank you.’ and then hold his gaze as you deliberately stir it, mixing the carefully poured layers. You smile when Jeongguk’s eye twitches.
 “Very unhappy right now.”
 You sip away.
 “What’s your major?”
 “Creative writing. Do you go to school? I haven’t seen you around campus.” You make sure to save what you have so far, just in case you get even more distracted and forget to do so later. 
 He shakes his head, pretty earring twinkling in the window light. “I would hate to be stuck somewhere for 4 years, and then not even be guaranteed a job after all that debt I would be in.” He pauses and then chuckles at how gloomy he sounds. “I do apprentice at a tattoo shop every now and again. Your major makes sense though. Seems fitting.”
 You tuck the tattoo apprenticeship information away, saving it for a later conversation. “How do you know what fits me?” 
 His expression is sly. “I know more about you than you think. I hear the way you talk about things, and see how you look at them. Plus you’ve always got your nose in your notebook. Do you want to be an author?”
 You scoff and roll your eyes, a trace of bitterness seeping through and tainting your expression. “We all want to be authors.” You unfold and refold the napkin in your hand, before tossing it to the side. “I’m going to be an editor, or a journalist, or... something.”
 “Don’t worry you have time to think about it.”
 You give him a sideways glance. “I mean- not really, I graduate at the end of the spring semester.”
 He regards you with curious eyes for a second. He looks like he’s trying to figure you out. His eyebrows furrow like he comes up empty with no explanation for what he is wondering. So with a faint confused smile, he asks, “Why do you live like that?”
 You place the coffee you were about to sip back down, caught off guard a little by his genuinely inquisitive and soft tone. “Like what? With long term goals?”
 He laughs, loud. It’s brash and startling in the quiet coffee shop. He throws his head back and his eyes crinkle. Some people turn to look at you both. You don’t care. “I mean that’s one way of saying it. But what I mean is like- what if you change your mind? Or like I don’t know… get bored?”
 You pause. It’s a loaded, scary question. You wonder if the jobs you listed would really be enough to satisfy someone like you. Someone who’s always thinking about things in a way that makes them seem better than they are. Someone who sees things in extremes and thinks stars are inside of people. Someone who has a constant feeling inside that always wants more. You wonder if you actually will get bored. What you’d do if you did. You don’t want to think about it anymore, so you don’t. Instead, simply stating, “I love writing. I won’t change my mind about that, and as long as I’m doing something that has to do with it, then I’ll be fine.” You think you’re telling the truth, mostly at least.
 He makes a soft noise of understanding, but you’re not sure if he actually does.
 “I guess if I had something I loved like you love writing then I would see things differently. I just don’t love anything that much. Nothing but my freedom. And it seems like everything tries to take that away eventually.”
 Your breath catches and you think something cracks inside of you. Can you ever truly contain a star? Or is it the tighter you hold it, the more likely it is to explode? A supernova waiting to happen?
 Before you can respond he speaks up again. “But hey, listen. We should, like, hang out.”
 “Oh? I thought you wanted me to take you out?” You jest.
 He rolls his eyes, fighting a smile. “You’re still going to.” 
 The thing about being a hopeless romantic is that you think about life in could be’s. You could be his, he could be yours. You paint a picture of potential in your head, all different shades of pink and red and doused in stardust. 
 You’re levelheaded and sane in most areas of your life, can understand the consequences of moving too fast, not taking the time to think, and not seeing things for what they truly are. But when it comes to things that have to do with liking, with loving, with wanting… You’re brash and eager. You cling to idealizations and dream of scenarios. It makes you infatuated quick, attached even quicker. It’s not a bad thing really. You just fall fast and love easily. You’re good at hiding it, but that sweet pink feeling? It’s always there, just simmering under the surface. 
 The party is loud and so is your beating heart. Thump, thump, thump. The room has an almost opaque hazy feeling to it, smoke lingering in the air from whatever everyone is smoking. You take a sip from your red plastic cup, grimace, then drink some more. You don’t drink that often, but it's nice. Once you can’t taste or feel the burn of it anymore. Once it makes you float a little. People are bumping into you, as you leave the kitchen. You just refilled your drink. Vodka and some juice this time. 
 He’s running towards you at the speed of light. At least it seems like it. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s because he’s just fast. Maybe it’s just because you've got a crush. He doesn’t need to run, you’ll still be there. He’s stopped by people here and there, ugly moths flocking to a bright flame. He flutters away with soft dismissive smiles, a few ‘Hey I’ll catch you later, okay?’s. It makes you feel fuzzy.
 “You made it!” He’s beaming, and he’s not out of breath but his chest is moving a little faster than normal. You can see his muscles through the thin fabric of the t-shirt he’s wearing. You stare. He crowds your space, comes close enough for your hand that’s holding your drink to bump into his tummy. Very firm, very strong tummy. He’s so warm, kinda sweaty from all the excess body heat in the room. Or maybe he was dancing. You wanna watch. See how he moves. You take another drink, grazing his stomach as you bring your arm back down.
 “You came,” He says again. He’s talking to the top of your head, mostly, your eyes still distracted. His hand comes up to grip at the elbow of your bent arm, just resting there. Just touching.
 At last, look up at him, and you have to consciously take a breath. He’s glowing so bright in the hazy, smoky room, surely he doesn’t belong here. At the party. On Earth. He’s wearing a wide neck tee, it shows off the length of his collarbones. They are pretty, strong. But you don’t linger.  And you ignore the fresh blossoms of sore red skin that are already there. Just peeking out. You showed up late. Jeongguk doesn’t seem like the type to wait. Not that he was waiting for you. Maybe he was. You hope he was. Even if he found things to keep him occupied while doing so.
 “Yeah, I came.” You look at him over the lip of your cup. You’re almost there, almost floating.
 He doesn’t say anything when he takes the cup from your hand, holding it from the top, taking a sip of his own. He doesn’t grimace. Maybe he’s already used to the taste. You’d say something but the drinks make you a little sluggish, your quick-wit slowed down. You’re not drunk, far from it, you’re just feeling... nice. He takes your hand, drags you through the crowd of people. That feels nice too. His hand is big and warm, kinda rough yet baby soft at the same time. You’ve always loved contradictions. He’s pulling you to the living room. There’s a ratty couch in the corner with your name on it. Probably spelled in a variety of questionable fluids.
 “My friends-” you say realizing you lost Taehyung and Yoongi.
 “They’ll find you, don’t worry. The house isn’t that big.” It’s kind of hard to hear him. You lean closer.
 To your surprise, Yoongi and Taehyung are actually already there, making quick friends with the other barista from Blushing Brews. Jimin, you remember Jeongguk mentioning him here and there. A few other people are around too, some you vaguely recognize from campus or just around, some you’ve never seen before. There’s not that much room on the couch.
 You glance up at Jeongguk, but he doesn’t seem bothered, easily finding a place for himself. He’s still got your hand, so you’re dragged with him, settling half on his lap half on the cushion. You’re kind of sideways, back against the arm of the couch, side pressed against him, legs over his lap. His hand is on your mid-thigh, fingers on the inner seam of your jeans. He’s not doing anything but it feels good. He’s got his other arm around the armrest of the sofa, around you. It’s a little too hot to be sitting so close, but you don’t say anything and neither does he.
 The conversation around you is hectic, bouncing from topic to topic. You’re content just sitting and listening, casually just nursing your drink. Taehyung’s going on about the latest piece for his portfolio and how he got accepted to be part of the university’s winter showcase which was kinda of a big deal, and a guy named Namjoon is talking about the wonders of botany, and the medicinal benefits of plants. There’s a couple of girls around too, you smile whenever you accidentally make eye contact with them while people watching. They smile back, eyes flitting curiously between you and Jeongguk. He squeezes your thigh. You press them together, subconsciously, mostly a natural reaction.
 “Hey,” He says quietly, so only you hear.
 You turn your head to look at him, instead of the people around you. You make a surprised noise when you see how close you are, noses almost touching, him already looking at you. You question him with a look.
 He doesn’t need to, your proximity already near, but he presses his lips against your hair, right next to your ear, his cheek brushing yours. “Are you comfy?” You feel him smile more than see it. 
 You wiggle your toes in your sneakers, press your side a little closer to his chest. “Mhmm.” You glance down when you feel his fingers start to trace the seam of your pants, no longer just squeezing and holding. You honestly can’t help it if you spread your legs just a bit wider in response. You think you feel his breath hitch, before you definitely feel his hand settle high on your inner thigh. It’s nothing scandalous, but it’s something. Makes that sickly sweet feeling boil in your belly.
 “You look pretty.” There’s a lazy grin on his face, he’s looking at you with so much contentment that it makes you squirm. You wonder if he’s high. His hand on your thigh tightens. You ask him if he is.
 He giggles, cute and quiet before pressing his face into your shoulder like he’s embarrassed. “No, I was but not anymore.” When he looks at you again, his cheeks are tinted pink. He looks pretty too. You tell him.
 He rolls his eyes, and looks like he’s about to argue. But the bubble you both were protected in is popped by Jimin’s loud voice, mentioning his name.
 “Don’t let Jeongguk hear you say that. He’s the most cynical person I know. Will crush the little daydream in your head so quick.”
 Jeongguk laughs, before chiming in, “Who’s day do I need to ruin?”
 One of the guys you don’t know speaks up. He’s got broad shoulders and plump lips. “Hyeon, over here thinks she’s found her soulmate in the form of her Mathematics professor.” He rolls his eyes like it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. 
 You look at the girl and she’s laughing light heartedly, not taking the jabs too seriously. You catch Yoongi’s eye, and he’s already looking at you, eyes bubbling with soft concern, like he knows where this conversation is going to go. 
 Jeongguk adjusts you on his lap, not much, just enough so he can sit up some more and be fully attentive. He keeps his hands all over you. You don’t miss the way almost everyone’s eyes are on you, nosy and full of questions.
 “Hyeon, let me ask you this. Let’s say on the incredibly off chance soulmates do exist, why the fuck would he be in your hometown, that you literally have never left? There’s 7 billion people in the world and you think you met your ‘one true love’ at your University?” he even uses air-quotes. 
 Hyeon sniffs, and turns her nose up. “I think it’s fate that-“
 Jeongguk interrupts her with an obnoxious buzzer noise. “EH. Wrong. Please Hyeon. Believing in that shit is just setting yourself up for disappointment.” He shakes his head, exasperated, before he settles back into the couch. His fingers start tickling your inner thigh again.
 Everyone’s kinda chuckling, even Taehyung when he asks, “Damn man… Who the fuck hurt you?”
 Everyone really chuckles at that. Except Jeongguk. He shrugs trying to come off unbothered. Calm, cool, and collected. Like he didn’t just passionately crush a girl’s hopes of finding the one. Although you will admit, falling for your university teacher probably wasn’t the best path to follow on the quest for finding your person. 
 “No one,” Jeongguk says, “I just think it’s stupid.”
 Jimin cackles, high pitched and teasing. “Yeah okay. Don’t listen to him. He got his heart broke a few years ago and hasn’t been the same since.”
 Jeongguk laughs like he’s over it. You wonder if he is. “Shut the fuck up Jimin.” His eyes still have starshine in them when he turns his attention back to you. “I’m gonna go get another drink. Do you want one?”
 You shake your head, giving him a small smile. He squeezes your thigh before he goes, leaving with a quiet, “Stay here okay? I’ll be right back.” 
 Taehyung’s quick to take his place, plopping your legs in his lap like Jeongguk had. “You okay?”
 He says it lightly like he’s trying to not make it a big deal. And it’s not. Not really. Sure you thought of a few could be’s and wished on a few stars. But you know he’s right in some ways. It’s a good thing you don’t really believe in soulmates either. Not really. You believe in people and in stars. In could be’s.
 “Yeah I’m good.” You say back quiet. “I don’t believe in them either. Not seriously.” You try to laugh off his incredulous look. 
 “Are you really? I saw you writing about him, and you’ve been like extra daydreamy lately.”
 You roll your eyes. “First of all, don’t snoop. Second of all, it’s just a crush.” You shrug.
 He looks at you a little sadly. “We both know you don’t have ‘just crushes’.”
 “Actually, I do, now. So please drop it, and go flirt with Jimin some more. I’m going to the bathroom.” You swing your legs off him and wander around for a little bit. You didn’t really have to pee that bad to begin with.
 During your house roaming escapades, you accidentally walked in on a few people, and never actually found the bathroom you were supposed to be in. Now you’re in a hallway, looking at an elaborate family photo wall. Turns out you have no clue whose house this is, despite Jeongguk mentioning the guy went to your university.
 There’s old photos of a couple that turn to marriage photos of a couple. The couple posed in front of a house. Then there’s baby photos, turned into school photos. Color coordinated christmas cards. You squint. You know pictures don’t really tell you much,  but they look happy. With their picturesque life. You wonder if the parents share a star. 
 You jump and let out a squeak when you feel a hand grab the bend of your elbow and spin you around. 
 “There you are,” Jeongguk sing-songs, trying to not laugh at the noise you made. “I was looking for you.”
 You lean against the opposite wall of the pictures. He crowds your space. He smells good. You don’t know how you didn’t notice when you were on the couch with him. Maybe it was the smoke floating around. It’s a little easier to breathe here, in the random hallway you found. Or at least it was till he showed up. 
 “You found me.” You sing back. He smiles, almost shyly. But his eyes drop to your lips and then back up.
 “What were you doing?” He asks. He moves to lean against the wall next to you, trying to get a look at what you were distracted by when he found you.
 “Just being nosy.” You hum. “Did you get your drink?” 
 He looks down at his empty hands, and then leans his head back on the wall, laughing softly to himself. A little drop of sweat rolls down his extended neck. You swallow. It’s still early to mid fall. The weather is still hot enough. Plus all the bodies in the house. Plus he’s a star, always burning so bright. Must be tiring. Sweat inducing.
 “I think I forgot it when I went looking for you.” He rolls his head to the side to look at you, and he’s got that lazy grin on his face again. 
 “Wanna go get it?” You ask, already pushing yourself off the wall.
 He’s quick when he stops you, hand on your shoulder gently guiding you back. He’s in front of you again, closer this time. Hotter.
 “No, no. It’s okay. We’re- good here. This is good.” His eyes keep flickering to your lips. It’s making you squirm, something starts to stir in your belly. You shift under his gaze.
 “Do you do this with all of your friends?” Your voice is softer now, the casual atmosphere you both were just in, long gone. The tension is tangible now and you’re too scared to speak up, afraid you might break if you do. 
 He hums, angling his body even closer to you. Your back is against the wall now, and the sounds of the party around you are muffled. One of his arms comes up, bracing his forearm by your head bracketing you in on one side. His other hand comes up to toy with the bottom of your shirt. “Do what with them?” His voice is just as soft. 
 You swallow. “Look at them like you’re gonna kiss them.”
 His eyes twinkle as he looks at you, eyes dropping to your lips again. He licks his own, and now they’re wet. The light hits them just right to make them shine. What do stars taste like? He drags his gaze back up deliberately slow. “Yeah. I kiss all my friends.” It’s said on an exhale as he leans closer to you. His lips graze your ear. “Don’t you?”
 You let out a trembling breath, shaking your head. A warning signal goes off in your brain, red-lights flashing. That’s a red flag, you’re sure of it. But for some reason, in your mind, the lights, the flag… they look pink, almost enticing instead of worrisome. The blaring warning alarms slow and blur into a melodious siren song.
 He’s shifting closer again. The heat from his body is scalding. Part of you wishes you could move back, most of you wants to press into it. Get burned just a little. “You don’t?” he asks. There’s a little bit of a teasing lilt to his voice, you can hear the smile. “Why’s that?” The hand by your head plays with a small piece of your long hair, twirling it around his fingers. You get a glimpse of his tattoos. Pretty.
 You struggle to find something to say. You don’t want to say you only kiss your boyfriends, you don’t want to scare him. Because you want this, you do. You just- “I- I only kiss special friends.” -want it to mean something. 
 It rushes past your lips and you’re not able to stop it. Not able to really think about what you’re saying. Not able to think about what you’re implying, what you’re agreeing to. You feel his grip on your hip tighten a little, and his body pushes towards you, just grazing yours. He’s not hard yet but he’s excited. Cock a little thicker and heavier and pushing out just a little more than normal. Your eyes squeeze shut and you try not to whimper. 
 He nuzzles against your temple. “That’s good, we can be special friends. I like that.” 
 He’s leaning in and you’re about to ask him if he means it, the thing he said about liking it, but the tension is shattered and the fragile atmosphere is ruined. 
 “Gguk! You better leave that poor girl alone!”
 It’s said by Jimin, it’s always him it seems. He’s drunk and hauled over Taehyung’s shoulder, just passing by the hallway you’re in on their way to presumably the bedrooms. There’s a few people laughing and following them, waiting for a show and consequently, some filter into your secret hallway and take it upon themselves to make it their space as well.
 Jeongguk sighs, forehead resting against yours. “I gotta go make sure he wraps it.” He sounds annoyed but amused. “He’s had chlamydia one too many times. Insurance won’t cover his clinic costs anymore.”
 You snort. “Please tell me you’re joking.” You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Actions bold for the fragile feeling floating around you both. His eyes track the movement and you don’t miss how he tenses before your arm falls back to your side. 
 “Yeah I am, but I should still go make sure he’s being safe.” 
 You nod. “You’re a good friend, Jeongguk.”
 He rolls his eyes, playful when he squeezes your hip. “Don’t forget you still have to take me out.” 
 “I won’t.”
 His smile matches your own. “I’ll see you?”
 You nod again, as he turns to jog in the direction that Jimin and Taehyung went. You wish he looked back. Oh well.
 Early to mid-fall bleeds into late autumn.Still warm during the day like a soft summer’s kiss, just a little chilly during nightfall like the last words of a past lover. You and Jeongguk haven’t talked about the party. And he hasn’t tried to kiss you since. Things are different though. Soft touches here and there, more frequent than before. Even softer, stilted flirting ensued during the following weeks. He wasn’t acting shy, never that. 
 But it’s like he was waiting for you. Waiting to be pursued. You guess. It’s clear he wants more, but it's almost like he doesn’t want to be the one to push for it. Give in to it. You don’t really know. You also don’t think too much about it. Don’t think a lot about anything other than him, and the next time you’ll see him, next moment you’ll get to spend time with him. Usually, you don’t have to wait too long. He spends most of his breaks with you at the coffee shop, now. It’s a sweet thing he does, just like how he’s been putting that extra pump of sweetener into your drink lately.
 Today, however, you are not at Blushing Brews, you’re at the fair. Large rides and crooked games line the surrounding area of the boardwalk, sounds of people screaming and laughing fill the air. It smells like heart disease and the salty ocean. It’s not too crowded, it’s been open for a while, you came on one of the last days it was in town. 
 “This is me taking you out by the way,” you say around a spoonful of frozen cherry limeade.
 Jeongguk hums as he leans down, wanting a taste. You want to taste too, just not of his frozen lemonade. You scoop a heaping amount. Maybe he’ll get a brain freeze. 
 “You don’t say?” He smiles before wincing, mouth forming a small ‘o’. He’s blowing out like he’s trying to warm the inside of his mouth. You smile, spoon between your teeth. 
 “Tasty?” you ask, trying to stifle a laugh.
 “Cold.” he responds, still trying to melt the icy slush in his mouth. He offers you a bite of his.
 “Too sour,” you decline. “I only like sweet things.” 
 The wind is blowing, the breeze is pleasant after running around the fair all day. Hours have gone by, playing games that you both know are rigged, bartering with the worker until you’re giving up and buying the prize you want anyway, a medium sized Hello Kitty plush with a pink bow. Riding rides that are terrifying simply because they get taken apart and put back together, time and time again. Eating way too many fried foods and drinking far more sugary drinks than is healthy. But neither you or Jeongguk have mentioned wanting to leave.  
 You walk the boardwalk and take a seat at the ledge of the pier and Jeongguk’s close by following suit. Feet are dangling off the edge, and a soft mist of salty water tickles your ankles. It’s night time now. The stars are bright in their home. You lean back and brace yourself on your extended arms, palms on the wooden pier.
 “You know that stuff you said at the party? About soulmates?” You’re not looking at him, eyes up towards the sky. You can feel him gazing at your profile though. It burns a little. Everything about him is hot. Not unbearably so. Kinda like when you turn the shower on as hot as it can go. Scalding, but good.
 “About all of it being bullshit?” he laughs to himself. “Yeah I remember. I’ll say it again too.” He knocks your extended elbow causing it to buckle, playful and cheery like he always is. How can being around him be such a contradiction? Light-hearted yet suffocating. Doesn’t matter really. Not like you’re going to stop. Not until he tells you to. You scowl at him before righting yourself.
 You’re quiet for a moment, long enough for Jeongguk to follow your gaze and glance at the navy blanket above you both. “I believe it,” you state.
 He’s looking at you again. You look at him as well, face impassive. “You do?” he asks. He doesn't really sound surprised. Why would he be? What writer doesn’t believe in something as far fetched as reciprocated love?
 You shrug lightly. “Maybe not like soulmates. But I think we have like… a person that we could spend a really long time with. Forever even. Maybe longer if we’re lucky.” He doesn’t say anything so you continue. “I also think we are all part of the stars. And we share a star with our person.”
 Jeongguk’s confused to say the least but he goes with it. You live in a constant daydream, and he knew you had your head in the clouds when he first met you, decided that he wanted you. “If we’re stars, how do we get to earth?”
 “We fall. Falling stars,” you explain. He makes a soft sound of acknowledgement.
 You both fall silent, the distant sound of laughter and the rolling waves the only thing letting you know the world hasn’t fallen mute. The reflection on the moon dances on the ripples of the ocean.
 “How did you… come to this conclusion?”
 Again you shrug. You lay back on the salty, sandy wood of the dock. “I don’t know really. I just like the sound of it. The idea.” You give a half suppressed laugh, feeling kinda silly. He lays down next to you, attention fully taken by the stars. 
 You don’t know why. He sees himself everyday.
 “So you really have no idea?”
 “I mean…” you start. Think a short moment. “We really don’t have any idea about anything we can’t physically see. Right? Like we have no idea if heaven’s real or not because we can’t see it. Hell too. I don’t even know if Australia is a real place.”
 Jeongguk chuckles. “Of course it’s real.”
 “How do you know? Have you been? Have you seen the alleged opera house? A kangaroo even?” You raise your eyebrows challenging him.
 He’s shaking his head like he can’t believe you. He’s smiling though. Always shining. “I’ve seen pictures. And other people have been.”
 “And you just believe them? People say they have been to heaven, there’s pictures of angels.”
 A staring contest ensues before he’s rolling his eyes, giving up. He waves a lazy, bony hand. Wrist limp, as he gestures for you to just get on with it. 
 A smug grin graces your lips. “It’s the same with soulmates. People think they are real, claim to have met theirs on some off chance. But, that’s all subjective hearsay.” You kick your feet, still dangling, just tempting the ocean to drag you in. Maybe a shark will get you. Maybe a sea spirit. “But… the stars? They are right there. People? Literally everywhere. You? You’re right next to me. I can see all of it. I know it’s all there, and real. There’s a connection. It means something I think.”
 He hums a few times like he’s processing something, trying to figure out how to word the thoughts running around in his mind. He takes a deep breath. “Stars are really big you know. Don’t you think it's… I don’t know, like suffocating for the star to confine them to being someone’s soulmate?”
 “Not soulmate.”
 “You know what I mean.”
 Head shaking, you deny what he says. “No, I don’t think it’s confining or suffocating. Being important to someone is so special; precious. A big deal for them.” You nod towards the sky.
 When he whispers, it’s said so quietly you almost miss it, “What if the star doesn’t want that?”
 His words hurt for some reason. It’s stupid, and you can’t explain it, but the ache is piercing, like a sweet tooth left untreated for too long, slowly decaying, sharp stabs of pain throbbing.
 “Don’t you think the stars get lonely?” You murmur back. 
 He swallows audibly, and you hear him let out a breath that trembles just a hint too much to be considered normal. Jeongguk rolls to his side so he’s facing you, he has a dopey smile on his face, just a little bit crooked and uneven. It looks forced, but you let him have it. “Well… which star am I then? If we all are made of stardust.” He’s trying to tease. Trying to breathe.
 You look at him with a light blush on your cheeks. The multicolored fair lights are glowing over his face, rapidly changing color. It’s like you’re looking at him through a kaleidoscope. It’s dizzying. That’s not why your stomach is doing flips though. You roll over to your side, body to body. Only a few inches in between you both. 
 “You’d be the north star, I think.”
 He hums, closes his eyes so his lashes kiss the apple of his cheek, a soft expression taking over his features. They're still shut when he ponders, “Why would I be that one?”
 You don’t have to think about it. “Because it's the brightest star in the whole sky.” 
 His brows furrow before he opens his eyes, he looks confused. “Which one are you?”
 You shrug again. He keeps asking you questions you don’t know the answers to. You don’t even like space that much. Just the idea of it. You like the idea of a lot of things. 
 “I don’t know if I’m star material.” You laugh rolling onto your back again, looking up once more. The stars look so close, right next to each other, but in reality they are so far apart. You think about how you and Jeongguk are separated by just a few inches. A foot at most. Yet in this moment, it feels like you couldn’t reach him if you tried. “I’m probably like a space rock or something. So essentially the same. Just less luxurious. People don’t make wishes on me. Space rocks are pretty pointless and useless. Just look at Yoongi. He’s a space rock too.” You’re laughing as you say it. Jeongguk’s not.
 “I shouldn’t be that one,” he whispers. “And if someone like me gets to be a star, then you get to be one too.”
 A small smile is still on your face when you gaze at him again. “Someone like you?”
 He nods.
 You giggle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
 He regards you, eyes taking every inch of your face like he’s trying to memorize you. The freckle by your eye, the faintest scar near your lip. “I think you’ll find out, eventually.” He sounds off when he answers.
 Still, you don’t hesitate. “I hope so.”
 The room is big but you’re sitting close to him.
 “No! No! You’re like not that bad... honestly! If the whole creative writing thing doesn’t work out you could be an idol.” 
 You know the boy next to you is lying. You know he is because your voice keeps cracking. Going flat or sharp whenever you get a turn on the mic. Pfft. You never could have been an idol. But when you glance at him, your cheeks aren’t flushed with embarrassment. They are flushed because of how much you have been laughing, because of the pink fuzzy feeling bubbling in your chest. You’ll probably burst soon. Jeongguk’s eyes are gleaming, and his lips are pursed trying to hold back his smile. Maybe it’s better that way. You wouldn’t want to be blinded. His smile too bright and full of the stars. It’s been hard to look at him the last few months. 
 “You are such a liar!” You’re giggling as you playfully swat at his shoulder. 
 But your laughter quiets when you feel his big hand grip around your tiny wrist before you can land a hit. His long fingers overlapping where they meet at your bone. Your eyes flick between the connected skin and his face and that’s when it happens. The world starts to move slower around the sun, and your heart makes up for it by beating that much faster. You see his doe eyes dance between all your features paying special mind to your lips. The tension between you both is tangible and hot, burning. And it’s going to happen. After months, ages, of stilted flirting and wavering touches and poorly hidden desire. Jeongguk is going to kiss you. 
 Your lashes are fluttering, your eyes are closing, and you’re leaning forward to meet him halfway when you hear: 
 “Do you have any?”
 Your eyes open wide to see his mirroring yours, and your breath stutters out in quiet shock. Embarrassing. 
 “W-what?” You do your best to keep your voice steady, but you’re flustered. He’s so close and his eyes are so focused. There are stars in them too. 
 The grip on your wrist tightens a bit bringing your attention to your attached limbs. Yours still raised mid-strike, his raised in mid-defense. His eyes flick to his decorated forearm. Your brows furrow. 
 “Any tattoos?” You ask. 
 Jeongguk’s little pink tongue darts out to wet his lips before he nods and lets out a small affirmative noise. 
 You flex your hand in his hold and glance at the ink all over it. He has knuckle and hand tattoos, along with random other designs littering his skin. 
 You blush. “Yeah I have a tiny black cat on my ankle… It’s supposed to be the cat from Kiki’s Delivery Service?”
 You expected him to think it was silly, childish, but he smiles instead. “Jiji?”
 You grin back and nod.
 His lips purse together and his eyes peek at your lips again. “Did it hurt?” he muses.
 You laugh a little. A breathy, incredulous thing sneaking past your lips. “I mean you know for yourself. Your whole arm is covered.” You nod your head at his arm, and your fingers twitch in his grasp, like they want to touch, trace the dark lines on his comparatively fair skin. 
 The blush that falls on his cheeks is cute, but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on it, still feeling a bit childish and silly for letting your thoughts run away from you just a moment ago. Thinking he was going to finally kiss you. Tsk. Embarrassing. 
 “It hurt yeah,” he says chuckling to himself, “But Jiji is black right? So it must be dark? That hurts worse. Especially on the ankle.” his boot-clad foot nudges up against the ankle where he knows the piece is, brushing against it gently. He doesn’t take his eyes off your face. 
 You think about the fact that he knows which ankle you have tattooed, the way he knows what technique was used on it. How he knew it was a dark, filled in tattoo, not just an outline like it very well could have been, without even having to look away from you to peek at it and double check. You think about how he asked, just to ask, despite already knowing. You think about what that could mean. You think about how he must have been paying attention to you, taking in small details about you and filing them away without you even knowing or noticing. You think about how he maybe just wants to hear you talk sometimes. The gulp is audible when you swallow down the sweet, tingly feeling that’s crawling up your throat like bile. 
 It’s only you two in the noraebang room, the distant sound from the rooms surrounding is loud, loud enough for you to speak up. And yet your voice comes out as a soft whisper when you answer. He leans closer to hear you. “It hurt at first, when he went over it, you know? But after a while... I don’t know. It felt like warm? I kind of liked it. You know... the pain.”
 All the noises of the rooms next to you cease and it’s like your ears are filled with cotton candy clouds. All the sensitivity leaving them and migrating to your other senses making them heightened. You watch with clear eyes as Jeongguk’s pupils dilate. 
 “Do you think I liked it? When it hurt, when I got all mine done?” He asks. You can’t tell if he’s being quiet on purpose or if it’s still the baby pink clouds in your ears. 
 “You might have… I know a lot of people do, but I don’t know much about you Jeongguk.”  
 And maybe it’s coincidental. The way the kiss hurts. Feels slightly painful. Bruising and desperate. Or maybe it’s intentional. Either way, the tension between you and him comes to a head. The gasp that leaves your lips is loud and sharp, you don’t even kiss back at first because you’re so dumbstruck. Lovestruck. It’s only been a few months... Embarrassing.
  Embarrassing until it’s not. Embarrassing until you get yourself together enough and start to kiss back, hands sinking into his long hair, gripping a little too hard so you have something to tether you to this earth. Embarrassing until it’s wet and sloppy but slow and dreamy all at once. Until you feel his teeth dig into your bottom lip, his tongue following to soothe the little ache that he caused, maybe by accident, maybe on purpose because you told him you liked pain. It’s embarrassing until you can’t think about how embarrassing it is. 
 Until you can’t think straight at all because the only thing going on is your mind is: this is how it feels to kiss a fucking star. Not the rich kind of star that’s dressed in designer brands and weighed down by the heaviness of the world along with too many rings and watches and chains. Not the idol kind of star either, the kind that is so carefully crafted and manufactured that it’s kind of hard to see it as a star at all when it seems more like a doll. 
 Kissing Jeongguk is like kissing one of the stars in the sky, when they are in their rawest, purest form. The kind of star that people make wishes on when they are twinkling, when they are falling; dying. You’re dizzy and your eyes are squeezed shut so tight that little white dots are coming and going in the darkness and you think that maybe those are stars bursting right before your eyes. You hold onto the star in your hands a little tighter, kiss him just a little harder. 
 He winces from the force of your kiss and pulls away. Embarrassing. 
 When he looks at you his eyes are dark, and his chest is already heaving. 
 He licks his lips and his eyes go down to your lips, then back up almost as if asking for permission to continue. You give him the slightest nod, and that’s it. That’s all he needs.
 The noraebang seating is uncomfortable. Booth-like vinyl over barely padded benches, but you go easy as Jeongguk urges you to lay down, resting against the arm rest. His kisses are insistent and hot as he crawls over you, and settles between your open legs. 
 He’s such a good kisser. The type to cradle your face in his palms, the type to sneak his tongue inside after teasing the seam of your lips. The type to bite gently, make you whine into his mouth, and he just eats up every little noise you make and breath that you take. It feels good, even the sharp sting of his bites, even the way the armrest presses into your back when he puts his weight on you. The hand that pulls at your hair to expose your neck to him, feels good too. 
 He bites and sucks, little multicolored flowers blooming on your skin. He’s suffocating in the best way. The silence swimming around you is suffocating as well, just not in a good way. The lack of words make you feel antsy, the distant music of the neighboring booths sound muted and subdued, giving the illusion that you and Jeongguk are the only two in the world, in your own little bubble. It’s overwhelming. 
 “You’re a good kisser,” you gasp, just to break the quiet.
 You feel him smile into your neck, before he braces himself over you, looking at you smugly, yet charmingly. “You too.” he says softly. The way he rolls his hips into you, however, isn't soft at all. 
 He brings a hand down, and bunches up the material of your skirt so the only thing between you both are his layers, and your panties. You can feel him better now, can feel just how hard he is, how thick and long his cock is, rutting over your cunt. 
 You spread your legs as far as you can so that you are more open for him, his cock slipping just barely between your pussy lips over your panties, rubbing over your clit every time he grinds into you. He keeps his thrusts consistent and rough, his breath stuttering out labored and hot.
 You’re trying to keep quiet, but you can’t help the soft whines that slip past your lips. “Feels good, Koo,” you praise. 
 Your hands are gripping at his biceps, feeling the way that they flex and tremble from holding himself over you. He drops to his forearms and groans deep, burying his face in your neck. You can feel his hips start to move faster, more desperate. His breaths are puffing hot on your neck, going up in pitch at the end. He’s almost whining for you and your hips start to roll to meet his, your pussy needy and wet, craving the friction and drippy at the sound of his pleasure. His lips are alternating between biting and giving soft wet kisses.
 “Fuck, I’m not gonna last... I’m gonna cum-”Jeongguk grits out against your neck before lifting his body some to look down at your bodies where his clothed cock is grinding frantically against your panty covered pussy. 
 You can hear the desperation in his voice along with a hint of shame. 
 “That’s okay,” at the sound of your voice Jeongguk looks at you, one arm bending so he’s got his palm braced on one side of your head and his forearm on the other and you sigh out a soft pleasured sound. He looks so breathtaking. His starshine eyes are dark and wet, his fair skin is flushed and hot. There’s a bit of sweat at his hairline from how hard he’s working for his release. You wipe away a drop on his temple as you push his long hair out of his face. “You did good, you made me feel so good. Show me how good I make you feel. Please.” 
 You watch as pleasure overtakes him, the hard thrust of his hips becoming even more erratic and hectic. He’s nodding along with your praise like that’s what he needed to let go, whines and groans tumbling from his lips. He’s looking at you when his eyes start to flutter and his brows turn up in pleasure. His mouth falls open and he’s coming. Hot shots of white fill his pants and you can feel the warmth of it and the throb of his cock through the thin layers of clothes separating you.
 His head is hanging and his body is trembling with the after rush of his orgasm when he chuckles lightly. “That doesn’t normally happen. I swear.”
 You’re kind of just laying there, on the less than comfortable noraebang booth bench, with him still in between your legs. You laugh with him softly. “Been a while?” you ask.
 He shakes his head, still catching his breath and coming down, mind still a bit hazy. “No, no. You just- you’re so… different. You make me feel weird.”
 The laughter that had been floating between you slowly starts to quiet as you both seem to realize what he said at the same time. He looks at you, eyes simmering with panic, and yours look back searching and confused.
 It’s quick, the way he changes the subject, smothers you with his breath and distracts you with his soft kisses and even softer touches. Making your tongue too busy with his, to ask questions. Not that you would have asked. You play it off, threading your hands in his hair, kissing him deeply. The tiny little prickle of hurt you felt in your chest was completely forgotten as he kisses you back just as hard, like he wants to swallow you whole. 
 He brushes some hair out of your face and whispers against your lips, “I wanna make you cum.” The hand that isn’t playing with your hair is sliding down your body, before cupping over your pussy. Your panties are wet, sticking to you. You know he can feel it because he gasps, soft and small. “Fuck, please let me.” He rests his forehead on yours, and rubs at your clit over your panties. The gentle, teasing circles are the match that ignites the little flame of arousal that has been seething within your belly.
 You whisper, “What if someone comes in?”
 Your hips subtly rolling into his touch at their own accord, don’t do much to show him that you're actually worried.
 He breathes a laugh against you before placing a chaste kiss to your cheek, and then biting softly at the apple of it. “You know why people come here… so do the people who work here. No one’s gonna bother us.”
 He’s kissing your neck again, and his fingers are speeding up.
 “Is that why you brought me here?” you whisper, breath hitching on a whine.
 Jeongguk’s fingers stutter for a second before carrying on, and he looks at you with hazy lidded eyes. He has a sheepish smile on his face. “Not exactly. I wanted to hang out. But I may have been hoping for a little.” he says as he kisses you softly. “Been thinking about how you taste since that party.”
 You can’t help but moan. You’ve been thinking about it too. How it feels to be completely devastated by a star in the best, most blissful way. You manage to keep some shred of decency, though. You’re not at yours or his, and you’re not in your head this time. You’re in a very public space, even if everyone knows what goes on behind the locked doors. “N-no sex.” you bargain.
 He nods. “Can I use my mouth?” he nuzzles into your temple, and two of his fingers tap against your pussy. “Can I use it here?” he places the gentlest, teasing kisses between his words. “I’ll be quick.” he assures.
 You whine and squirm against him. “Confident?” you ask, trying to tap into your usual, quit wit. To little avail. It’s no use. You were ruined at the first taste of him, the first feel of his lips on yours. You can only imagine how they will feel in other, more secret places.
 He smiles, tongue in cheek before he shrugs lightly. “A little.”
 You roll your eyes, but when he plays with your clit again, your hips buck into his palm and he takes that as a yes and moves down your body. His hands come up to play with your boobs briefly, squeezing and rolling them in his hands. “Gonna fuck these one day, okay?” he tells you.
 Him saying that he’s gonna fuck your tits, should be vulgar. But to you it’s a promise that this is going to happen again, and it makes you high, floaty thinking about him wanting you, desiring you. Him already thinking about the next time he gets to have you when he hasn’t even finished with you this time. 
 Your brain is hazy and his touch is burning through your clothes but that’s nothing compared to the way his breath feels on your clothed cunt when he finally finds his place between your legs. You’re wet, embarrassingly so and you know your panties are sticking to your core. Your ears are still cloudy, and you’re sure you’re probably imagining it, but when Jeongguk slips his fingers into the sides of your panties to peel them away, you think you can almost hear the wetness. He grabs them from the top and starts to pull them down and off your feet. Your hands come to your face to try and hide, your legs instinctually closing.
 He’s having none of that. His hands are placed on your knees as he slides them over your thighs, chills following the path of his fingertips. He places a gentle pressure, urging you to open them. He’s a little higher than your cunt, kind of resting on your lower belly when he pulls at your hands, making you look at him. 
 “Don’t hide from me,” he says quietly. One of his hands tangles with yours as he slowly lowers himself to your pussy. He kisses and licks over your smooth, pink lips. His hand that’s holding yours squeezing every now and then when he looks up at you with his dark, lust filled eyes.
 His free hand comes down to slip between your folds, and just teases at your opening, almost like he’s playing with the little droplets of slick that are dripping from your core. Your legs open a bit more, shame and shyness steadily creeping away as you yearn for him to make you feel good. You feel him smile and peck your pussy lips before he rests his head on your thigh. He looks at you, doe-eyes filled with mirth.
 “Want my fingers, too, pretty girl?” he muses.
 You close your eyes as you nod, an exhale stutters from your chest.
 “What do you say?” he taunts.
 Eyebrows furrowed, and lips pouted, you grumble out a soft, “Please…”
 He hums before he slowly sinks his middle finger inside. It feels good right away, his finger is much longer and thicker than your own, reaching that spot inside that you always struggle to reach. Your mouth parts and the softest sigh leaves your lips. His other arm wraps around your thigh, and fingers slide between your folds from the top to spread them so your clit is exposed and ready for his tongue. When he finally tastes you, he moans along with you, before he gets to work.
 He wasn’t lying when he said it wouldn’t take long. Jeongguk’s tongue is skilled. It works fast, flicking quickly over your clit, up and down. It’s constant and wet, and it's so filthy the way his tongue on your sweet spot makes your pussy just gush all over the finger he has inside of you. 
 He sucks gently when his tongue and jaw need a break, little pulses and slurping suctions stimulating you, before he goes right back to lapping at your sensitive little bud, occasionally dipping down to lick at your center, wrapped tight around his finger. 
 He pulls your hood back a little more, placing wet kisses to your clit, tongue licking just slightly before his lips wrap around it making you jolt from the direct sensation. 
 You’re braced on your arms, looking down at him, watching him make you come apart at the seams. When he adds his ring finger, your head and eyes roll back, and your legs spread even farther, making yourself as open as you can for him. 
 “Fuck, I’m already close,” you whine, high pitched and airy. You bring a hand down and brush some of his hair out of his face, and you see him smile a little, smug as he puffs out a soft laugh. His breath is hot on you, as his tongue and lips keep playing with your clit. His fingers speed up too, curling every time they are pushed in, dragging when they pull out. He knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how to make you fall apart.
 “You gonna cum for me baby?” he purrs against your cunt.
 Your brows are pinched in pleasure and you nod as you watch him. “Yeah, don’t stop, please,” you whisper.
 His eyes close as he drowns in you, his face pressed up against you as he licks you from an angle that is so precise and so perfect that your legs start to shake. The hand you have in his hair tightens and you pull, keeping him close as you chant quiet, lewd praises.
 “Gonna cum, Koo- oh my god-” Your mouth falls open and your eyes squeeze shut. 
 Right when you’re on the crest of pleasure, Jeongguk replaces his tongue with his fingers so he can watch you as you cum. He sees the way you're about to protest at the loss of his mouth before your body tenses and your back arches off of the bench, his fingers toying with you enough to make the rush hit you before you can even complain. 
 “Fuck, look at you baby,” he murmurs in awe. 
 His eyes are trained on your pussy, the way it clenches and contracts around his fingers. He spreads you as wide as he can so he can have the best view of your pink cunt pulsing, and dripping. His fingers slow on your clit as you start to come down and the fingers inside of you almost pet at your g-spot, milking every last bit of pleasure he can from you. 
 Slow is still overwhelming though, when you’ve just cum. It’s not long before your hands are reaching between your legs and gripping at his wrist.
 “Too much,” you cry.
 He coos, as he removes his fingers. He gently pulls at your inner lips and opens up your puffy little cunt. “She’s still pulsing around nothing…” he says. He sounds dazed, lust drunk. “Did I make you cum that hard, baby?”
 You’re still trying to catch your breath as you look down your nose at him. He’s got that effortlessly confident, cocky look on his beautifully, flushed face and you just want to kiss it off. You kick him instead.
 “Awe, don’t be mad, I’m only teasing,” he giggles as he settles himself on top of you, resting on your chest. He squeezes your tit good-naturedly. 
 “Confidence is only sexy if it’s paired with humility, which you are sorely lacking, my friend.”
 “Your special friend,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.
 You grab his face and angle it towards you and kiss him before you can think too much about it. Before you can think about how it might scare him. The way he tenses in your hold is heart-stopping. Not in a lovesick way, but in the worst gut-wrenching way. You can almost feel the inner battle that he has within himself before he seems to give in.
 The soft sigh he moans into your mouth is so sweet, that it’s toothache inducing. The way he lets himself melt into you and the way he becomes pliant in your hold almost feels better than his tongue. With his pliancy in mind, you gingerly sit up, mouths never parting, and he goes easily with you until you’re crowding his space and eventually straddling his lap. The kiss is still soft, saccharine sweet when his hands slip under your skirt. They knead at your cheeks, pulling and squeezing admiring how plush your body is. You’re about to start working your hips over him, but he groans and gets a hold of you before you start going.
 “You already made me cum in my pants once, you are not doing it again,” he whisper scolds, while playfully nipping at your bottom lip.
 “I thought it was sexy,” you whisper back. You brush your nose against his.
 You’ve got your hands working through his hair, scratching at the nape of his neck. He hums while he pushes into your touch, eyes closing.
 “You know what else is sexy?”
 You make a soft questioning noise.
 “When you walk out of here with no panties on,” his eyes are still closed as he smirks.
 You’re jostled quickly and back on the bench instead of his lap. He’s crowding your space and when you look him over, you see your light blue panties hanging from his finger. You blush.
 “Jeongguk, you better give those back right now,” you whisper.
 He quirks an eyebrow. Then he leans in and coos into your ear, “Don’t you think it would be more fun to think about what I’m gonna do with them? How I might be planning on wrapping them around my cock the next time I touch myself? How I might be planning to cum all over them?” 
 It’s audible when you swallow down the desire crawling up your throat. You raise to your feet and head for the door.
 “You should tie your sweater around your waist, your boner is distracting and indecent,” you say with a quick backward glance. 
 Jeongguk pockets your panties, and laughs before taking your advice and catching up with you. 
 “When I think of you, I think of the color pink.”
  It’s cold outside, but the apartment is warm. So is the bed. So is the body laying next him. Warm.
 Jeongguk doesn’t stay the night very often.
 He is tonight though. His head is on your chest and his fingertips are lazily running over your bare skin leaving little chills trailing behind. Your hand is in his hair. It’s getting long now, and it’s still soft, easy for you to run your fingers through, despite being bleached a week or so ago. You went with him to the appointment. 
 Jeongguk laughs a little. “That’s funny because I also think of the color pink when I think of you.”
 He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but he can tell you’re smiling, close to giggling when you respond, “Really? Why?”
 He hums and looks up at you. You look back with that look of adoration that you always have when gazing at him. His chest constricts, it’s hard to breathe when he’s with you sometimes. 
 “Because of how pretty, and pink your pu-”
 You push your hand in his face with a laugh and try to roll away from him. “God, shut up! You’re so crass.”
 You don’t get far before he’s got his hold on you. His big hands wrapping around your tiny bones. He manhandles you until you’re properly under him, hands pinned and bottom half weighed down by him straddling you. 
 “That’s not what you were saying a couple of hours ago, was it baby?” he taunts. “What was it you said? ‘Yeah, Koo… your cock feels so good, please cum inside me, fill me up.’ right?” he says, making his voice breathy and high pitched, mocking you. 
 He presses into your cheek, nips at your ear as he teases, basking in the way that your cheeks blush red, incandescent. Warm, just like the apartment, like the bed. Like the whole of your body underneath him. 
 You’re there often, under him. Sometimes on top of him, next to him, in front of him. He kisses you, chaste yet thorough, and you keen, hands fighting against his hold like you want to touch.
 Again, he relishes in your reaction. He relishes in everything about you, everything you do, all of the time. The way that you’re witty and sarcastic when you’re out and about. The way you constantly talk about things as if you’re painting a picture with your words, carefully choosing each syllable. 
 Versus the way you get when you’re just with him. Sometimes still witty, a visionary, but mostly shy, sweet, and like the most delicate flower in his destructive hands. He tries to be gentle with you, he really does. But he’s a creature of habit; and he has a habit of being rough, a habit of hurting and ruining pretty things. He hates that about himself. But it’s almost subconscious, he never realizes he’s doing it, ruining it, until it’s too late.
 But he’s been transparent with you. It’s not his fault that you always seek him out, and it’s not his fault that you’re the sun, always there in a sense, in his mind. It’s not his fault that he’s grown to crave your comfort, your presence. Even at night when you’re not physically with him and the sun has set but his bed still has lingering warmth on the side that’s not his; even then, you’re still there in the recesses of his mind, just like the sun is still in the sky even if it can’t be seen, even if the moon has taken its place for the night. Or a star, as you would say. It’s not his fault.
 His hands release yours, and one comes up to your cheek, thumb rubbing over the apple. Your hand comes down and holds at his inked wrist as your lashes flutter. His eyes scan the entirety of your face before a lopsided grin starts to form on his lips. He tilts his head a little. 
 “And why do you think of pink?” Jeongguk asks.
 He watches as you flush even darker, the smallest scowl falling over your features, a little wrinkle forming between your brows. He bites his lip to keep from laughing at you.
 “You think I’m gonna tell you now?” you spout.
 He doesn’t give in, knowing you just want to bicker. He knows you do that, pick fights, just because you want attention, just want him focused on you. You’d never admit to being the bratty type, but he knows you well. In that sense at least. Instead he hums, pecks your nose. “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me, I just like that you’re thinking about me.”
 “Do you think about me too?”
 Sometimes you scare him. When you ask him questions like that. In that soft, sweet, hopeful tone. When you give him those tender looks and touch him with hands that are too gentle for someone like him, like you think he’s the one that might break between the two of you. 
 “Too much,” he murmurs honestly.
 You smile and you look like you’re going to say something, but Jeongguk’s quick to change the subject.
 “You should let me tattoo you.”
 “No way!” you say instantly, swatting at his chest. He shifts and rests most of his weight on you, buries his face into your skin. You smell like your body wash, along with a little bit of him. Vanilla and JK.
 “Why not? Do you doubt my craft?” he teases, mock offense lacing his tone.
 “Maybe if you actually went to your apprenticeship every once in a while, instead of skipping to go to those lame parties, I wouldn’t,” you tease back.
 He snorts. “Jokes on you, I skipped it tonight to hang out with your lame ass.”
 You smack him gently again. “Jeongguk!”
 You’re giggling freely, body shaking underneath him and he can’t help but grin at the sound. “Maybe if you let me work on you, I would be more motivated to practice.”
 You hum thoughtfully, eyes crinkled as you try to suppress your laughter. “Fine, but only if you let me tattoo you too.”
 He knows you think that will deter him, but still, he doesn’t even hesitate. “Deal, baby.”
 You laugh at him again, loud and overly bright for a few moments until you realize that he’s not laughing with you. The way your face settles into a confused pout finally breaks Jeongguk’s straight face and makes him chuckle. Your brows are pinched and your eyes are wide.
 “Y-you’re not serious…” your incredulous laugh putters out. “Are you?”
 “Of course I’m serious.”
 And he is. Jeongguk doesn’t know why he is, or why he wants it so badly now that he’s put the idea out there. It was a joke at first, just something to fill the air, to interrupt you before you could say something scary again. But he does. Maybe it’s masochistic. Maybe he just wants something that will remind him of you when whatever it is that's between you two inevitably ends. Because he knows even the brightest of flames burn out eventually. 
 Or perhaps it’s a sadistic desire. Perhaps he wants to be inked into your skin, somewhere secret, so that the next time someone sees you in the same way that he’s seeing you now, they will ask about it, and consequently remind you of him. You’ll still think about him, even when others are with you, trying to hold your attention. Even when you’re trying to forget him. 
 “Matching ones?” you whisper.
 He nods. “Yeah, friendship tattoos.”
 Jeongguk doesn’t miss the way your face falls for the briefest of moments, how your lips part and the softest, tiniest, dejected sigh leaves your lips, before he quickly kisses away the disappointment. It’s bitter on his tongue.
 “Special friendship tattoos,” he amends. Another light kiss. He wonders if it tastes like gasoline to you too. The shadow’s from the candle on your nightstand dance across your skin. Best to be careful with gasoline kisses next to an open flame. “We can get stars.”
 You’re quiet for a moment, mouth dropping down in a pensive frown. “It has to be small. And somewhere where no one can see it on me.”
 He smiles big, and his heart skips a devastating beat when he sees how you instinctively smile back. “Don’t worry, I plan on putting it somewhere very private,” he purrs.
 “You are not tattooing my pussy or my ass, Koo.”
 “Not there!” he laughs, “I meant like by your tit or something.” 
 Jeongguk starts to kiss down your body, he’s always kissing you when you’re together. He stops in the center of your chest on your sternum.
 “We could do it here,” a wet kiss just to the side of your heart. He can feel it, how it speeds up because of his mouth, his hands, him. He travels a little lower.
 At your ribs, just under the curve of your breast, he stops again. “Or here.” Another kiss where his tongue tastes you before his lips even touch. 
 He makes it to your belly button, just about to move to your hip before you speak up.
 “I liked it there, on my ribs,” you say, voice a little wispy, higher pitched than normal. He notes that your chest is rising and falling just a bit faster than before.
 “I’m not finished yet,” he says, looking up at you through his bangs and his lashes, trying to go for stern, but the humor in his voice gives him away.  
 Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth as you try and silence your laughter. 
 Jeongguk places a kiss here, a kiss there all over your silken skin. Little kiss marks shine when the candlelight hits them just right. He bites every now and then too, unable to control himself when he gets to the softest part of your lower belly, and the inside of your thighs. He even kisses Jiji on your ankle. He’s gripping your foot and you wiggle your toes in his hold
 “Is Kiki your favorite?” He asks distractedly, lips still playing on your skin, he’s starting to make his way back up now.
 “Spirited Away,” you correct softly, on a giggle as Jeongguk hikes your legs up around his waist. You wrap your arms around his back, and he shivers when you run your nails over his shoulder blades, goosebumps making a short appearance. When he rolls his hips into your pussy, you gasp. He inhales it, breathing in your pleasure. It makes him throb, hard and hot against you. “I’m still wet inside from earlier,” you whisper.
 He groans into the kiss he brandishes your lips with. He ruts harder into you, bringing a hand down between your bodies, and gripping the base of his cock so that he can rub the tip against your clit. He feels how wet you are, with your slick as well as his cum from just a little bit ago. He tsks, scolds you playfully. “I know, I can feel it. So messy.” He’s smiling when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth.
 Your eyes are fluttering when you ask, “What’s your favorite?”
 Jeongguk’s distracted, of course he is. How could he not be when you're mewling underneath him, squirming from the tip of his cock swirling around your clit? He humors you. “Howl’s Moving Castle,” he says as he pushes the head in before hissing and pulling back out. He does it a few times, teasing himself with your cunt.
 When you laugh, it catches him off guard. Enough to make him pause and look up at you with a dumb smile on his face, just grinning because he somehow made you laugh, and the sound of it is nice.
 “That would be your favorite.”
 “What’s that supposed to mean?” He spits into his hand, slicks himself up, rubs a little on your pussy.
 “You’re just-” You gasp when his fingertips graze your clit. He gasps when you spread your legs wider for him, sweet and eager, just like always. “You’re just like him. Charming, confident…”
 “Go on,” he grins into your neck, sucking a little bruise. You tilt your head so he can reach better.
 “Slow down.”
 You giggle. “Stealing hearts and eating them.”
 He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. He braces some of his weight on your thigh, tests your flexibility as he hovers over you, lips brushing yours lightly, teasing. He gives in when you crane your neck to reach him. “I haven’t eaten yours, have I?” He muses.
 Your hand comes up and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “No, not yet.” 
 You pause and look at him with one of those soft, terrifying looks. He knows you don’t even realize how scary it is, when you look at him like that.
 “Maybe I’ll be the one to steal your heart, hmm?” your head tilts, and you smile at him faint and cute. It’s meant to be playful, but Jeongguk can already feel his heart clawing its way up his throat. “You who swallowed a falling star, o' heartless man, your heart shall soon be mine,” you quote, tease, with a giggle.
 Jeongguk goes rigid on top of you. His heart is beating fast in his chest, loud in his ears. He kisses you, hard. Bruising like the first time. Hopefully you take it as eagerness. 
 “Stop talking,” he whispers, begs against your lips. 
 When he slides into you, he can’t help but wonder if you remember that that was the curse the wicked witch placed on Howl to trap him. 
 There’s something about Jeongguk that makes people drawn to him. He’s charming, enrapturing,  in every sense of the word. Makes people feel special. His laugh is infectious, loud and often more entertaining than the original joke when he does that thing where he claps his hands, or falls to his knees if it’s funny enough. Being around someone like that is refreshing. He’s captivating and easy to be around, easy to love. He’s such a bright light no matter where he goes, a beacon to those in his vicinity.
  And he’s so, so kind. To everyone that speaks to him. Even to those that don't speak and just look, he offers a kind smile. When someone has his attention, they have it all, his big doe-eyes holding eye contact, nodding to let them know he’s listening and being attentive. He’s a good person. A little hard to understand, hard to get close to. So people say, so you’ve learned. But he’s good. Not much is known about stars, anyway. 
 You’re watching him right now, always watching. You’re on another stained sofa in a different house than the one you usually went to with your knees pulled to your chest, a cup of beer resting on your knee. He’s chatting with someone, looks like the guy is showing him his tattoos. Jeongguk smiles, looks enthused, points to one that he must like based on his reaction. Then he’s holding up his own forearm, pointing to a small piece of ink, and then of course, he’s pointing at you.
 Just before coming here, you and him had been at his tattoo shop. He drew the most beautiful, intricate little shooting star into your ribs. A little fireball attached to a long trail of stardust, smaller little twinkles falling off of it. It was simple clean line work, lines thin and dark. And then you drew two of the most basic five pointed stars on him, in a small blank space of his already existing sleeve. 
 You warned him, told him you couldn’t draw a straight line with a ruler, let alone a heavy, vibrating tattoo gun. But he assured you he wanted it, that he needed to get that spot filled anyway. 
 Though both stars are small, one is bigger than the other. 
 ‘This one is you,’ you had said, pointing to the larger star, ‘and this one is me,’ you continued, moving to point to the smaller one. 
 ‘Is it?’ Jeongguk had asked, a teasing smile gracing his mouth as he leaned into you. 
 ‘Yeah,’ you had breathed against his lips. 
 Your soft kisses turned to soft touches, touches that transformed into soft moans. Right there in the parlor.
 He’s talking louder now, getting excited. “Look how good her lines are! I didn’t even have to help her that much…” he goes on and on and you smile into your cup. 
 It was actually a really shitty tattoo. Lopsided, with the points of the stars all different lengths. But hearing him praise you, express how much he actually likes it? It makes your heart burn, glowing bright pink in your chest. You get up and sonder over to him.
 He smiles as he sees you, opens his arm up for you to tuck yourself into his side. His arm going over your shoulder, and yours going around his waist. You rest your empty hand on his tummy, can feel how it tenses as he laughs. 
 “Ah, my little artist herself!” he says.
 “That’s a stretch,” you deny, looking towards the guy across from you, “Namjoon right?”
 He nods. “Yeah the one who has spent the last 5 years in school studying medicine and plants,” his voice holds a twinge of regret, a longing for life that isn’t run by tests and grading scales.
 You laugh lightly. Ah, the botany guy. “Graduate program?” you ask.
 He nods again.
 You tap your fingers on Jeongguk’s stomach, trying to think of something else to say. “Oh! Do you know Yoongi? He’s not in the same plant… program or whatever but he’s doing a graduate program too.”
 Namjoon smiles. “I don’t know him aside from the parties he shows up at sometimes, but I’ve heard of him around campus. Where is he by the way? You usually have him and Tae with you when you show up here right?”
 Your brow furrows as you take another sip of your drink, readjusting yourself so your back is against Jeongguk’s chest. He rests his hands on your hips, and cheekily pushes against your ass. You ignore him. “I actually don’t know? We haven’t hung out in a while...” you hum contemplatively while you play with your bottom lip. You look up at Jeongguk. “Do you know? Jimin’s not here either.”
 He shrugs, expression bored. “Jimin said he has something to do tonight, maybe he’s finally sucking Tae’s dick. And you know Yoongi hates these parties almost as much as you.”
 You pout still, but Namjoon swiftly changes the subject.
 “Anywho, you’re a tattoo artist now?” he tilts his drink in the direction of Jeongguk’s arm, his smile playful and knowing. “Must be pretty special to be able to get behind the gun and work on this one. He’s a snob.”
 You’re about to deny it once again but Jeongguk interrupts you with a snort. “Obviously she’s special, we are special friends.”
 Namjoon’s eyebrows raise and you laugh a little. Your eyes sparkle when you look up at the blonde behind you. “Are you drunk?”
 He grumbles and wraps his arms around you tighter before mumbling into your neck. “No… not really, but I am horny,” he whispers.
 You tut at him, scolding with a whisper, “I literally just jerked you off earlier.”
 You’re swiftly ignored as he turns his attention back to Namjoon, “If you’ll excuse us, we have to put aquaphor on our tattoos.”
 You send Namjoon an apologetic smile, but he just laughs, turning to head in the direction of the kitchen. 
 Jeongguk’s hand is tight when it grips yours, a vice like hold as he drags you through the house. It’s at a frat this time, so the upstairs is lined with bedrooms. People are littered through the hall, and in the open bathroom you can see a girl cutting a line on the porcelain sink. The guy behind her holds her hair for her. A modern romance, like a scene from a movie. There are the stereotypical socks on door knobs, and thankfully the music is way too loud and the bass is boosting so you can't hear what’s going on behind the doors. You almost run into Jeongguk’s back when he comes to a stop in front of a locked door void of any sock.
 “Jeongguk,” you hiss, “we can’t just have sex in a random person’s room.”
 He’s somehow procured a key and gets the door open. “Yes we can, but this isn’t someone random’s room, it’s Jimin’s. He lets me use it sometimes.”
 He doesn’t notice the slip of the tongue, once again, but it leaves an icky taste in your mouth. Thick and unpleasant on your tongue. But you know in due time the taste will change, into one of starlight, heady and intoxicating, and so wholly Jeongguk. 
 “Jimin goes to uni? I never see him on campus,” you wonder aloud tentatively taking a step through the threshold. It looks like a typical college boys room. A desk with a computer and school work scattered all over. A floor littered with shoes and clothes, along with a nightstand that has the lamp, the lotion bottle, and the kleenex box that sit on top of it. You laugh to yourself. Weird. 
 “Mmm, he’s enrolled and goes just enough to not get kicked out so he can keep getting his student loans and living here,” he replies as he locks the door. 
 Immediately he’s backing you into the bed, urging you to lay down. He stays close, lips on yours, hands hastily pushing your shirt up and over your head so your top half is bare under him. He pauses while straddling you, looks at you with hooded eyes, taking in the way your long hair fans out against the grey sheets of Jimin’s bed. With eyes raking over your skin, his tongue peeks out to lick at his lips subconsciously as he fondles your tits.
 “You’re so sexy, your body is so nice,” He pinches your nipples, making them pebble between his finger tips, “love the way you respond to me,” he purrs.
 You make a soft embarrassed sound as you blush and bring your hands to your face to hide.
 Like every time you try to hide from him, he pulls your hands away and gives you a sly yet sweet smile. He looks down at you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Why do you still get so shy with me? Hmm?” With your hands in his, he brings them to his clothed torso, urging you to touch him. 
 His mouth parts when you graze his nipples, and he breathes out a tiny, pleased laugh. “I get the same way for you, can’t you feel it?” He trails your hands down even farther, until they are rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. He sighs, head hanging back, letting you pleasure him for just a moment.
 You go to undo his belt but he stops you. “Not yet,” he says as he swats your hand away. He kneels down, kisses and sucks at your collarbones, as he grinds softly into your lower belly, quiet little sighs sneaking out between his kisses. 
 He’s slowly moving down your body until he gets to the new tattoo, fresh and vibrant against your skin, the edges still a little red. He gently runs a finger over it, before kissing next to it, all around it. “I love it, do you love it?” he murmurs, doe-eyes jumping between the ink and your face.
 You run a hair through his blonde locks, brushing them out of his face. “Yeah, you did such a good job, thank you.”
 He hums and you feel him smile into your ribs before making his way a little lower. You stop him by pulling at the hair you have a grip on.
 “Wait, I wanna- you always take care of me…” you look at his cock. “Let me?” you ask.
 He sits back up and regards you like he’s debating on letting you have your way with him before he huffs and shuffles off the bed. He stands at the edge and rids himself of his shoes and socks and you watch as you follow his example. 
 Next he gets rid of his shirt. You take him in, admiring the lithe, trim cut of his small waist, how his jeans and belt rest on his hip bones, the lightest little fuzz of hair that travels down his lower belly. The very obvious hard on pushing against the zip. You crawl over and sit on the edge of the bed in front of him. He cradles your face and your eyes flutter shut at the touch.
 “You wanna take care of me, my baby? Wanna make me feel good?” 
 You nod as you take his arm into your hold, glancing at him through your lashes before pressing a sweet kiss next to the tattoo you gave him. He coos.
 “C’mere,” he says, applying light pressure with the hand on your face.
 Up close you can see the flush that has taken over his skin. He has little droplets of sweat forming at his hairline. It’s always so hot at these parties. Maybe it’s because you’re always with him when you attend. He’s always burning so bright, fiery hot. 
 The hand on your face pinches your cheek sweetly, and now, your cheeks are warm too. He laughs a little before he kisses you. “I know just how you can make me feel good, pretty,” he says against your lips, biting quick and sharp.
 He threads a hand in your hair at the back of your head and guides your mouth to his neck. “You can kiss me here,” he sighs, extending it so you have more room. “And here,” down to his collarbones.
 You kiss and suckle softly at the bone that protrudes, and pull the thin skin between your teeth for just a second. You moan when Jeongguk hisses and the hold in your hair tightens. Pulling away, you look up at him. He looks down his nose at you, bites his lip before he smirks a little.
 “You wanna mark me, don’t you? Was the tattoo not enough?” he answers the unspoken question swimming in your eyes, while simultaneously teasing. He’s acting cocky, but his voice is airy and has a bit more vibrato than normal, giving away how aroused he is. 
 You nod eagerly. Of course you want to mark him, of course the tattoo wasn’t enough. Maybe you’re greedy, or maybe you’re just in love. But you don’t think it will ever be enough; a part of you will always yearn for more. He takes his time searching your face before he nods a single, short time. 
 Jeongguk doesn't usually let you mark him, and if he does, he’s usually particular about where. This fuels you, and you sink your teeth into his faintly sun kissed skin, rolling it between your teeth harshly, sucking until you’re sure that his skin has turned the color of the prettiest violet. 
 When you lick at your work to help ease the ache, a moan gets caught in his throat. You rub your thighs together. His noises always get to you, always make your pussy weep inside of your panties. With his chest rising and falling rapidly, he pulls you off and pushes you back onto the bed, a little forcefully, but you don’t mind. He’s always been a little rough with you. Stars are known to be destructive from time to time. 
 He crowds your space, taking a spot in between your open legs. Being sat on the bed, his abdomen is eye level, and he pulls you to his tummy when he twines both his hands in your hair again. You lick the center line off his abs before you kiss, wet and open mouthed.
 “Yeah, kiss me there,” he moans. 
 You peek up quickly, and see that his head is tilted back again, blissfully letting your mouth work over his skin. His hands in your hair massage at your scalp encouragingly. Gentle and subconscious with his movements. His abs tense and jump when you nibble at one of the bumps of muscle, and he pushes into you, eager, maybe a little desperate. Although he would never admit that. 
 He holds you there, guiding you where he wants you till he’s pleased and backs away from the bed enough for you to have space on the floor when you drop to your knees.
 Your pussy pulses, gets a fluttery heart beat of its own, as you watch Jeongguk undo his belt. Anticipation makes you sink a hand between your thighs, makes you press and put a little pressure on your cunt to give you just a bit of relief. 
 His hands are big and strong, and the glint of the belt buckle matches the glint of the rings that decorate his fingers. The glint of the zipper as he pulls it down. He rubs himself over his boxers, shimmying his jeans down just little as he does it.
 “Do you wanna kiss me here too?” He’s smiling a tiny smile, talking quietly as his fingertips play with the tip of his cock. He sounds a little breathless too. 
 “Please,” you all but whimper, mouth watering.
 He hums, while he drags his briefs down his length until it springs out and bounces back to his tummy. He sighs when he starts to stroke himself with one hand, the other settling on your face, petting a little before he taps an open palm on it.
 You try to hold in the moan, but when his hand connects with your skin again, just a little harder than before, you can’t. It makes Jeongguk’s hand on his cock speed up. His mouth parts in awe. Gripping your jaw, he pushes it side to side, and you just let him. You let him play with you like a little doll. Another teasing smack lands on your face.
 He sighs, lust filled and dreamy. “God, you’d let me do whatever I want to you, wouldn’t you?” His thumb is running over the slightly reddened skin of your cheek. You nod in his hold. 
 You would. It’s scary to think about, the extent you feel like you’d go to, to have him, what you’d let him do, let him get away with.
 He brings his cock to your lips, but pulls it back when you try to suckle it. You pout, and then he taps the tip of it against your lips, groaning when he says, “Yeah, I know you would, you’re so good to me, so perfect,” he taps the length of his cock on your cheek a few times, he marvels at the little string of precum that connects his tip to the apple of your cheek. 
 His cock feels thick and hot and a pleasant kind of heavy on your cheek, much like how it feels on your tongue. When he finally lets you taste him, you start by curling your tongue around the crown, licking up some of the precum that has dribbled from his slit. You love it when he leaks for you. It shows you what you do to him, how bad he wants you. He confirms it when he sighs small affirmations.
 “That’s it, such a good girl for me.”
  You look at him, smiling a little at the praise, tongue teasing his slit, and his face makes your pussy throb. His mouth is parted and his eyes are hooded, like he wants to close them, bask in the pleasure, but keeps them open because the desire to watch you with his cock in your mouth outweighs it. He pushes his hips forward.
 “Suck it, baby,” he whispers, soft and salacious as he guides the tip past your lips, little by little until it touches the back of your throat.
 You’re confident about a few things, but your head game is close, if not at the top of your list. Little to no gag reflex to hold you back, mouth wet and sloppy as you drool all over his length. Tongue skilled as it moves up and down the sensitive vein running on the underside, while your throat contracts around his tip. 
 His hips stutter like he’s gonna pull out before he pushes in as far as he can, hands forming a makeshift ponytail with your hair as he holds you down, buries your nose in the coarse patch of groomed hair at the base of his cock. He moans, whines, high pitched and loud. He pulls out of your throat with a gasp.
 “Fuck, your mouth,” he drools, praises. 
 He gives you a second to catch your breath, admires the way your eyes are glassy with tears, mascara smudging the slightest bit, surely to be running by the time he’s done with you. You love it when he fucks you hard enough to make you cry, hard enough to make your makeup run. It shows how well he did it, how badly he made you fall apart. He’s got a few pictures on his phone of you looking ruined and fucked out. He says you look so pretty like that, with teary eyes, a messy face, and hair knotted from being fucked into the mattress. 
 Then he’s fucking your mouth. Hand coming down to your neck so he can feel the way his cock fills it up every time his hips snap forward. His body curls over yours some as he bends a little to reach your neck, and you can feel the heat from his body ignite the air around you as he slides deeper, inch by inch . 
 Every time he pulls out you take a quick breath through your nose, before he’s pushing in again, your throat like a spit-slick cocksleeve designed specifically for him. The perfect amount of wet and the tightest type of grip. His breathing is audible and ragged above you, harsh huffs, and occasional moans color the air when you swallow around him. His cock is so hard and hot in your mouth, throbbing and pulsing on your tongue. 
 Your hands are on his thighs and you can feel them tense, almost tremble as he pulls your head down onto him over and over again. He’s less considerate now, stingy with the breaths he allows you to take while he chases that high.  He’s groaning loud and unabashed, and you’re choking, bubbles of spit forming at the corners of your mouth and around the base of his cock. He holds you down one more time, shaking your head by the ponytail so that the tip of his cock rubs against the back of your throat then he’s hastily pulling you off.
 You rest your forehead on his lower belly, trying to catch your breath. You can feel him too, getting a hold of himself, due to the expanding of his stomach as he takes deep breaths. He still has his hands on you, touching just like always, running his fingers through your hair. Until he’s pulling you up by it.
 He’s quick to get his lips on you, and his tongue is quick to slide into your mouth. When he tastes himself on you, he sighs, smiles into the kiss. With hands cupping your face, you smile back, basking in the attention and sweet affection. You reach your hand down and grab his cock and his hips jerk. He pulls away at first before subtly fucking into your hand and moaning. You drink it down like the sweetest champagne, his sounds intoxicating in their own right. 
 “Fuck,” he whispers as he rests his forehead against yours, “wanted to cum in that mouth so bad… wanna cum in your hand right now,” he pushes a long slow thrust into your palm, his foreskin sliding with his movements. He sounds like it’s so difficult to hold back, to keep from cumming right there in the palm of your hand.  “You’ve got me so hot baby, wanna cum inside you…” He places the softest, pleading kiss to your lips. 
 It almost sounds like a question, his voice light and airy, lilting up at the end. Soft and gentle as he brushes his nose against yours, a gesture that is as painful as it is sweet, a touch too tender for what you both are. But it makes you keen in his hold, body pressing to his, as close as you can get. 
 Your hands are running over him, and his running over you, just taking up each other’s space, breathing each other’s breaths. His hands slide to your hips and spin you around so you’re facing the bed, a little rough, impatient, as they yank your pants and panties down. They knead at your ass, when you lower to your forearms and arch your back, presenting yourself to him. 
 Jeongguk drops to his knees behind you, spreads your cheeks so he can see your cunt, pretty and pink and glistening. He rubs his two first fingers in between your plush lips, and your legs spread wider. You push back into his touch.
 “Just fuck me, please, I can’t wait,” you breathe.
 He hums, plays with your pussy a little more before you feel him spit on it. Then he buries his face into you, tongue coming out and licking from your clit, to your core, all the way to your hole between your spread cheeks. He swirls his tongue around it and you peep, the feeling oddly pleasant, but unexpected. Jeongguk huffs a little laugh  while he pulls away. He sheds his pants, and you follow suit, before settling atop the bed, once more on all fours.
 His big hands fall on your ass, jiggling it a little. He groans at the way the fatty part ripples before settling back into place. Gripping his cock with one hand and pulling a cheek to the side with the other, he rubs the tip between your silky lips. The sloppy, wet noises fill the room, loud and clear. The sound of the distant chatter and subdued party music outside the door is distant, barely there, all your focus on Jeongguk. He hisses as he watches his cock sink inside of you.
 “So wet…” he rasps out as he fucks into you with shallow thrusts. He can see your arousal shiny and sticky on his cock, no lube needed.
 You nod as your head dips, hanging between your forearms. He bottoms out and you let out a high pitched whine. “Yeah, want you so bad, Koo…”
 He stays buried to the hilt for a moment, hands running over your ass, your back, squeezing at the smallest part of your waist. His touch feels so good, electric on your skin. But you’ve felt his cock before, many times, and you’re no stranger to how good that feels. It makes you lean forward, makes you drag your cunt up his length, before you push yourself back onto it. 
 Jeongguk gasps, hands squeezing hard at the motion. “Fuck… keep doing that.”
 You whimper as your work your pussy over him, throwing your hips back, fast and consistent. Getting high off the sounds Jeongguk is making behind you. The soft curses, the loud groans when you start to circle your hips slightly. The way he just lets you make him feel good. 
 You collapse onto the bed, arms giving out due to the pleasure coursing through your body, and you turn your face to the side, hands gripping the sheets beneath you. His palm settles on the small of your back, halting your movements so that he can snap his hips forward, punching pleased gasps from you. You turn your face into the sheets, trying to quiet yourself. 
 He doesn’t like that apparently. If the hand gripping your hair and yanking is enough to go by.
 His body is over yours, chest to your back as he fucks into you with short, hard thrusts. “Wanna hear you pretty girl, want everyone to hear you,” he whispers in your ear.
 You squirm in his hold, slowly getting overwhelmed by the way his body is making you feel, by the way you slowly climb higher and higher until you feel like you could touch the stars. “Feels… so good…” 
 “Yeah, I fuck you the best don’t I?” he purrs, “Better than anyone before me? Better than anyone will after me too, right? Always gonna want this cock, aren’t you?”
 You whine because you know it’s true. You know no matter what you do or what happens between you and Jeongguk, he’s always going to live in your head, always going to have a place in your heart, your body is always going to remember him and long for him. Not even just in a sexual sense either. You think he knows this all too well.
 He pulls out of you with a ragged breath before situating himself on his side behind you. He urges you to push yourself against him, back to his front, spooning. He grips the thigh of your top leg, pulls it up to your chest.
 “Keep them open,” he instructs.
 You do as he says, looking down your body where you see him bring the tip of his cock to your center again. He’s watching you though, braced on his elbow, while his free hand guides himself into you. The way your eyes roll back before squeezing shut with knitted brows makes Jeongguk sigh, the way your mouth drops open when he pushes in the last few inches makes him moan.
 He’s going slow. Long, punctuated plunges into your cunt. He’s got his face buried in the place where your neck meets your shoulders. Breathing out lewd moans, his grip on your hip tightens as he bites and kisses at your throat, breath scalding as he pants into your skin.
 “Love your pussy, fuck…” he brings skilled fingers to your clit and starts to massage with tight constant circles. You buckle in his hold, glance down at his hand again, watching as he touches you just the way you like, the way he knows you like. The way he knows will get you shaking in no time.
 “Please let me cum,” you beg.
 He hasn’t purposefully been edging you, but you’re worked up. Usually he fingers you, goes down on you, before you even get his cock inside of you. But due to the change in routine today and the lack of stimulation, the pressure in your core has been building quick, almost putting you at your breaking point already. 
 He’s well aware, voice teasing yet aroused when he coos, “You wanna cum baby? Yeah, you do?” 
 You twist in his hold some so that you can look at him, show him the tears in your eyes, hoping that they convey how badly you want to do just that. 
 His eyes are shiny too, pleasure so raw and apparent in them. He kisses you, licks into your mouth as he keeps that slow pace to his hips. The one that’s so deep, the one that brushes your sweet spot inside every time he glides against your sensitive walls. 
 “Want you to cum too,” he says it with a sigh, like he’s so close, just needs you to finish him off, “you’ve got me so… think I could cum just from being inside you while you cream on my cock, just from feeling that messy little cunt cum around me,” he’s moaning as he speaks, his hips losing rhythm, speeding up some as he gets closer.
 You nod, the hand you're leaning on holding tight at the sheets, the other keeping your legs spread. “Yeah, want you to cum inside me, cum with me…” Your eyes are closed, and your voice is kind of delirious as you feel it all come to a head. Your pussy is already tightening around him.
 He hisses. “There you go, that’s it baby… can feel how close you are,” his hips have almost stopped, just the smallest, minute little thrusts still going. He brings the fingers on your clit down to your leaking cunt just for a second getting them nice and wet before circling your bud again, faster, a little harder than before. Focusing on your pleasure, on making you finish. You keen as the leg you're holding up starts to shake.
 “Gonna cum,” you warn, the hand that was gripping the sheets coming up to your tit to play with your nipple.
 Jeongguk curses on a moan, “Yeah, fuck… me too.”
 He feels it, the way your body goes tense before you let go. How you tremble against him as your orgasm rushes through you, moans and whimpers falling from your lips. Your pussy clenching around his cock is what sends him over the edge. 
 “Fuck, I’m cumming-” he gasps out quickly, before biting down on your shoulder, grunts of pleasure muffled as he fucks into you as deep as he can, repeatedly, with those small thrusts. You feel his cock throb inside of you, cum filling you up. 
 You smile, serene and spent when he goes limp behind you. His arm comes around your waist, pulls you closer. He keeps his cock tucked inside. You run your fingertips over his arm and feel the slight scabbing of the stars on his skin.
 He shivers at the touch. Sitting up some, he curls over you. Your eyes are still closed, content, chest still rising and falling with your deep breaths. He leans in and kisses you, so sweet. Tastes like rose petals dipped in sugar. 
 He’s still on your lips when he mutters, “Now we have to figure out a way to get out of here without getting any cum on Jimin’s sheets.”
 You giggle, nod, and then kiss him again. You’ll clean up in a little. 
 It’s deliberate, the way you choose not to think about the reason why he wants to clean up, get going. How he doesn’t want to stay the night with you. 
 “I want you to get out a pen and a piece of paper and then clear off the rest of your belongings.”
 School is back in session, winter break ending far too soon. It’s your last semester, your degree is so close you can almost taste it, with only 3 classes left till you’re walking the stage in your cap and gown. One of the classes is a writing class that you saved till the end of your university run so you had something to look forward to. 
 It’s a Thursday afternoon and you’re sitting in the back of your Creative Writing lecture hall. Someone’s eating so it smells disgustingly of peanut butter and the seats are filled with college students who just rolled out of bed at 12pm, everyone slightly disheveled and the crowd lackluster as the professor paces the front of the room. She’s quickly become one your favorites however, the last few weeks in her class proving to be entertaining as well as educational. You paw your sweater sleeve up in your fist and hold it to your nose and lean forward attentively.
 “Now, I want you to think about someone you love. It can be a real person, fictional, completely imaginary. Dead or alive. Old or young. Doesn’t matter. You just have to love them.”
 Of course starry doe-eyes flash in your mind. A crooked grin that pulls down a little farther on the right side. The centered mole just under his bottom lip that you kiss softly, so often when he’s distracted. The scar on his cheek that you run your fingers over when he’s resting on you. You do love Jeongguk, you have for a while now.
 “Write that person’s name at the top. They are going to be the model of basis and foundation for one of the characters in the short story project that we have due mid-April. So you’ve got approximately 2 months to finish it.” 
 A chorus of groans sound around the hall. The boy in front of you rests his head on his arms, looking defeated.
 “Hey,” your professor laughs, “this is the last year for most of you and this is the only project you have this semester. And it was in the syllabus. Not sure why you all sound so despondently surprised. You didn’t really think you would get through the whole course without one did you?” she inquires, still pacing the front of the room with a quirked brow.
 You honestly don’t mind. It will be a good distraction when you’re left to entertain yourself. Jeongguk’s actually been more on top of his apprenticeship attendance lately. It’s a good thing of course, but you don’t see him as much as you used to. That’s not to say that you aren’t together an incessant amount, just a bit less than normal. You scribble a tiny ‘jk ♡’ at the top of your paper.
 “Now with your muse in mind, I’m going to ask you a series of questions so that we can get some finite details about your fictional character on paper for you to use and reference as you’re writing,” she pauses, clicks to another slide on the projector. “What is their favorite color?”
 After writing the question you pause. Surely it’s black right? That’s basically the only color he wears. Maybe blue? You had helped him color his hair navy just a few days ago, the stains on your pillow a blueberry colored reminder every night… Still, you go with your first instinct, scrawling ‘black’ on the lined paper.
 “Their birthday?”
 You’re quick to answer this one, he’s a Virgo, so his birthday is… A small frown starts to tug at the corners of your lips. What day in September did he say? Did he ever say? Did you guys ever even actually talk about birthdays? ‘Virgo’ gets written next to question 2.
 “Are they close to their parents? Closer to the mother or father? Are they estranged? If you know why, please elaborate.”
 You know you don’t know this one. Fairly certain Jeongguk hasn’t even mentioned them in passing.
 “What role, or character archetype are they playing in your story?” she clasps her hands in front of her. “Are they the hero? The love interest? The villain?”
 You answer that one hastily.
 A few more questions are asked, some that you can answer, some that you can’t. They gradually get deeper, more personal as your professor carries on with them.
 “Okay. Now I want you to think hard about this character, and about the muse you’ve crafted them after. Could you answer all of the questions I asked?” She moves a weighted gaze around the room. You feel like she’s looking directly at you when she speaks again. “Do you really love the person you chose for the basic character prototype? Again, they could have been real, imaginary or fictional, but do you really love them, or do you love the idea of them? The version of them that you have pieced together in those brains of yours.”
 Your heart stops for just a moment, you can almost feel how you pale, the color draining from your cheeks. She continues.
 “I only ask because I want you to grow to love the character you are creating. This isn’t Psychology, I’m not here to make you question the love, or emotions you do or don’t feel,” the class laughs at this. The class with the exception of you. “But I am here to make you better writers. And one skill that you can have as a writer, a creative, or fiction writer especially, is building a connection with your characters. You’re going to be working on their, the character you’re outlining, story for the next few months. And when I read your work I want to be able feel the connection you have with them.” 
 She waits for it to sink in before continuing. “So I ask again: Do you love the muse you’ve chosen, or do you love the idea of them? Because loving someone and loving the idea of them are two completely different things. To love an idea of someone or something is to love it in a very surface level and/or superficial way. Still with me?” she questions.
 You are, but you wish you weren’t. You think you’re going to be sick.
 “Good, so as I was saying. It’s superficial. To be blunt, you love them for what they could be not for what they really are. As writers, many of us are guilty of this.”
 The thing about being a hopeless romantic is that you think about life in could be’s.
 “To truly love someone or something is to know all the little details about them, their virtues and their flaws. The reason why they prefer winter to spring. How old they were when they got their heartbroken for the first time. When they figured out who they are as a person, or if they are still searching. I asked those questions at the beginning of class to get you thinking.” 
 Your hands are starting to tremble just a little. Words on your paper coming out sloppy. You do love Jeongguk.
 Your professor takes a deep breath, flips to another slide. “How can you expect to love the character when you don’t even truly love who they are modeled after?”
 The room is quiet for a second. Someone raises their hand.
 “Isn’t it possible for characters to change as you write them? Like I can’t change my person, but I can change my character, like write them the way I want so that I end up loving them.”
 Your professor laughs again, light and airy as if she expected someone to ask. “Ah, yes. Character development is a thing of course. Although this is something that happens naturally throughout the story. But to change your character, like how you described?” she shakes her head and tsks, “Is it really love if you have to change them?”
 The sound of your paper crumpling is blaring in the quiet room. You pull out a new sheet, writing your sister’s name at the top. Her favorite color is green, her birthday is July 8th, she’s closer to your dad because you and your mom have always had a bond she couldn’t recreate with her, she’s the hero in the story, not the love interest like Jeongguk was… The lecture continues, and you don’t even notice when the bell rings, too busy thinking about how you do love Jeongguk.
 Jeongguk’s playing the newest version of Final Fantasy on his PS, the one you got him for Valentine’s day just a few days ago. You remembered him passively saying that he hadn’t played since he was little, and how he said he missed racing the chocobo’s. 
 His eyes flicker between his tv and you walking around his room. You’ve been to his apartment many times, but still, you always move around and take everything in like it's your first time there; your fingers running over his manga collection in the corner, tidying up his desk, lighting the linen candle you brought from your place. 
 ‘A gentle smell’ you had told him with a sweet smile, ‘because you’re sensitive to certain scents.’
 He gets distracted, the pleated skirt you're wearing catching his eye even more than the improved graphics of the game. He doesn’t quite hear you when you speak up.
 “Huh?” he asks, dragging his gaze up your body only to be met with a knowing look of your own. He smiles sheepishly.
 You roll your eyes, before taking a seat in his computer chair, not too far from his bed where he’s sat. Flipping through one of his tattoo sketchbooks you ask again, “What’s your favorite color?”
 Jeongguk isn’t surprised when you decide to make conversation. Before you started wandering around his room, you were on the bed with him while he played but you were a little fidgety and fussy, like you had something on your mind. He suspected you got up to try and distract yourself from your thoughts.
 He hums and tells you that it’s black, maybe red. 
 You ask his birthday next. He tells you September 1st. 
 Adjusting himself against the headboard of his bed, he opens for you when you make your way to him, crawling across his duvet. You take it upon yourself to settle between his thighs, back against his chest. He wraps his arms around you and continues to play, his chin resting atop your head. He smiles to himself when he feels you start to trace the stars on his arm.
 “Are you close to your parents?” you question again.
 He makes a small pondering noise. “Not really.”
 “Why not?”
 “Uh- they worked a lot I guess and-” He pauses. You don’t sound like you’re prying, just soft curiosity lacing your tone, but he still hesitates. “Why are you asking?”
 You hum and lean up a little to peck at the line of his jaw. He purrs at the contact, content. “Just wondering,” you state, pressing back into his chest.
 It’s quiet for a bit, you annoyingly plucking at the little bit of arm hair he has, making him laugh and playfully scold you, nuzzling into you and nipping at your cheek in retaliation. You giggle and he gets that sharp feeling in his chest, just like he always does.
 He thinks that’s the end of your questioning but too soon, you speak up again. “Do you prefer Winter or Spring?”
 “Winter, but my favorite season is Fall,” he says glancing down at you quickly before redirecting his attention to his game again. “You’re being weird, are we playing 20 questions or something? No, I’m not a virgin. What color panties are you wearing?” he asks, trying to make a joke.
 He chuckles when you lift your skirt to check before flipping it down again. “Pink,” you reply.
 You’re about to talk again but he interrupts you, “Wait let me see, I didn’t get a good look.”
 He hears you huff and can imagine you rolling your eyes as you do what he asks. You put it down again after a few seconds.
 “Just a little longer,” he tries.
 “Ugh, can you stop,” you say, a giggle leaking into the words, “I’m trying to talk to you!”
 He groans over dramatically like he’s exhausted, but he gives in. He always does with you. 
 “How old were you when you lost it? Your virginity?”
 The fond feeling in his chest starts to dwindle, and Jeongguk can feel the first little pricks of irritation poke at him as he answers your question shorter than before. “17 or 18.”
 You make a small surprised noise, looking up at him shocked. “Really that old?”
 He doesn’t glance back, stays focused on his game, hoping that you get the hint that he doesn’t want to ‘talk’ like this. “Yeah, I was a late bloomer and also an idiot.”
 You smile at him before going back to tracing his tattoos. “I doubt you were an idiot. That was just part of your story, a little chapter in your life.”
 He tenses at your words but shortly after, a lull falls into the conversation. But as soon as Jeongguk relaxes, a small frown takes over his face when you ask if the girl had been his girlfriend. And again, you don’t sound overbearing or anything, but he knows you can tell he’s not interested or invested in your questions. The atmosphere has shifted from pleasant and content to stiff and vexatious.
 “Yup,” he says, voice taking a stern edge despite his efforts to mask it. 
 He feels you tense against his chest, your fingers halting on his arm. “Are you mad at me?” you ask hesitantly.
 Immediately he feels bad, and sighs. “No, I’m not,” he says quietly, trying to be gentle. 
 But it seems you just don’t get it, because not even a few minutes later you’re asking, “How long were you together?”
 And he does his best to not snap at you, but he can’t stop himself when he goes rigid behind you and his words come out harsh and scathing. “Why does it matter and why the fuck are you interrogating me all of a sudden?”
 You turn around between his legs and gape at him with a shocked expression. “I’m not interrogating you? I’m literally just making conversation? Trying to get to know you better?” 
 “And why’s that?” he says, his tone flippant and annoyed.
 You pout and furrow your brows. “Am I not allowed to get to know you?”
 His jaw ticks and he casts an annoyed gaze around his room, looking anywhere but at you, as if not acknowledging the confused and hurt arch of your brow will make it go away. “You haven’t tried to in the last what? Five months?”
 “Six,” you correct him quietly.
 You sound unsure, like you don’t know why he’s lashing out like he is. And to be fair, it’s out of character for him, at least with you. He’s really not this cold towards you very often, almost ever. 
 Usually things with you both are great, easy. Fitting together in each other's lives almost perfectly. So seamlessly they are almost completely intertwined at this point. You meeting him for his breaks at his lessening shifts at the coffee shop, him meeting you after classes when he doesn’t have work, going to each other’s places after he gets off from his apprenticeship. The parties every now and again. The tattoos. 
 But he supposes it’s easy to put two blank canvases together when there are no details known about either of them. That’s what he was hoping for at least.
 “So am I just not allowed to?” you repeat when he stays silent.
 With an irked groan he tosses his controller to the side and rubs his hands over his face, rakes them through his navy hair. “I just don’t get why you are asking in the first place.”
 You regard him quietly for a moment, taking in his bored stare. He knows the disinterest in his tone is agonizingly apparent, and he knows it hurts you, just like the detached dismissal that he has ready on the tip of his tongue will. He expects you to keep pushing, to bicker with him just so he doesn’t give you the silent treatment. 
 He doesn’t expect you to start crawling off his bed. 
 He sighs and reaches out for you, getting a grip on your arm before you can get away completely. “C’mon, what are you doing? Are you mad at me now?”
 “I’m not mad, I just don’t see the point in staying here if you aren’t going to talk to me.” You’re trying to sound impassive, but he can hear the hurt in your voice.
 “But I am talking to you. I talk to you all the time, what do you mean?” He hates that he almost sounds like he’s whining, but he just doesn’t understand and he’s frustrated that you are prying and making things deeper than they need to be, than they should be.
 “Not about things that matter,” you reply curtly.
 “But the things you’re asking about literally do not matter, ___,” he states, just as short.
 You hang your head back and he can see your lashes fluttering rapidly. He knows you’re trying to not cry. Blinking to rid your eyes of unshed tears. You do that sometimes, cry when you get frustrated. As articulate as you are, sometimes things are hard to get out. You sound defeated and disheartened, but your words also have a hurt edge to them when you say, “They matter to me, anything that has to do with you matters to me.”
 He knew you were close to tears, but when you look at him with glossy eyes, he softens almost instantly.
 “Baby,” he coos, sighing again as he tugs you back to between his legs, back to his chest like when the conversation first started. He wraps his arms around you and kind of sways a little as he pecks your hair. “I just don’t think it’s important. Like the past is the past, and that’s it, you know?”
 He knows you’re pouting, and your voice is short and whiny when you insist, “I just want to know.”
 He hangs his head back and knocks it lightly against his headboard, trying to be patient with you. “It wasn’t like a bad relationship or anything like that but I just-”
 “Does it still bother you?”
 “No, but it’s still something I’d rather not think or talk about,” he’s talking to you slowly, like a child. 
 You’re quiet for some time, but Jeongguk just waits, knows you have more questions.
 It’s tentative and rushed when you speak again. “Was she your only girlfriend? If it wasn’t a bad relationship, why did you break up with her?”
  He takes a deep breath, actively trying to not be short with you. “She was the only serious one, and she broke up with me. Nothing really happened.” He shrugs, tone getting softer as he speaks. “Just the stereotypical case of unreciprocated love, or like one person just not feeling it anymore.”
 “So you loved her?” It asked so quietly that he almost doesn’t hear you over the chimes of his game still playing in the background, forgotten and now sound tracking the trepid atmosphere around you.
 He doesn’t verbally reply, just nods. He knows you’ll feel the movement.
 It hurts him when you go still in his hold. Like you didn’t want that to be the answer. You recover quickly, however, inquiring him again. “Did she break your heart?”
 He can’t help but laugh a little behind you, the words sounding far too dramatic for him. “Yeah I guess so?” he answers, “But it wasn't like traumatizing if that’s what you’re thinking. I just cared for her more than she cared about me in the end. That’s how it always is, right?” He pauses, hums like he’s thinking. “Plus she was the first girl I was with, blah blah blah, you know how the story goes.”
 You make a confused noise in front of him like you’re trying to understand and wrap your head around what he just said. “Did that really not affect you at all?”
 You’re probably wondering why he is the way he is, if his first heartbreak isn’t his anti-commitment origin story. He doesn’t blame you.
 Jeongguk thinks about his words for a second. He’s not lying. It wasn’t traumatizing. Maybe it did change him, how he views things, people, love. But it wasn’t tragic. He just kind of became this way as he got older. He has no real backstory for why he is the way he is, why he loves to be loved but will never love in return. Not in the way the other person deserves, at least. Even if he wanted to, he never would. Because as selfish as it is, the one thing he craves more than love, than anything, is his freedom. And in his head he can’t have it all. 
 And maybe that is tragic in a sense, but he’s never really thought of it as a bad thing. Knows that sometimes in order to have something he wants, he has to give up something else. 
 “I mean… I see love differently now. I don’t know if my viewpoint changed because of the break up or just because I got older and realized what’s important to me, but I probably used to think about love closer to the way you do… head in the clouds,” he nudges you playfully, like he’s trying to lighten the mood, “too much faith in people. A top tier romantic and the number one idealist.”
 He knows it’s hard to picture. But he was more like you than he would care to admit. Maybe that’s why he’s so much more careful with you. Because he knows.
 “How do you see love now?”
 Sometimes Jeongguk thinks he’s heartless. But when you ask him questions like that, the kind that you already know the answer to, but ask anyway, hoping that he will tell you something different, tell you what you want to hear… He knows he’s not because his heart aches in his chest. 
 He knows he’s not heartless, because he does his best to be soft with you, to make whatever this is between you both, as painless as possible. And that’s why he never lies to you about this kind of stuff, because he knows if he did, it would hurt so much more later. And he doesn’t want that. Jeongguk is selfish with you, but he never wants to hurt you.
 “You know how I see it, ___,” he murmurs softly, like he’s trying to be gentle. Almost like he’s reminding you. “Why are you asking questions that you know are going to-”
 Hurt you.
 He doesn’t say it, because he doesn’t need to. He knows you know that’s what he means. 
 He feels bad when you start to backtrack. “No, no. I’m not. It’s okay…” you rush out as you shift onto your knees and face him again, hands coming up to cup his face. “Thank you for telling me,” You kiss him gently, hands squeezing, thumb rubbing over the scar on his cheek. You’re too soft, too good for someone like him. “I’m sorry for being nosy, I was just curious.”
 His hands on your hips squeeze, and he pulls you closer, brushes his nose against yours before he kisses you. “It’s okay, I’m sorry for getting upset just-” he breathes hot and sharp against your lips, “Kiss me.”
 Falling into each other after moments like these is easy. It’s been happening more lately, rough talks turning into rough touches. But again, it’s just so simple. It’s easy to stop the fights and the questions with his lips against yours, it's easy to forget the things he does behind your back when he has you on yours beneath him, and it’s easy to pretend like that’s all there is. Just you and him. Two parts of the same star you might say. 
 But even though it’s simple, Jeongguk still wonders how long easy will be enough. 
 His hair smells like vanilla.
 He took at shower at yours just a bit earlier so it's a familiar scent, one that’s comforting and soft. The warm water made him cozy and pliant. When he came out with damp hair and pink skin he made his way over to you, maneuvering your body till you were flat on your back so he could cuddle up and lay on top of you, head resting on your chest and his body between your legs.
 You’ve got your laptop resting on the coffee table in front of you, one arm out haphazardly doing your homework, the other carding through Jeongguk’s hair, tucking little stray pieces of blue behind his ear. He hasn’t moved in a bit, just content laying with you in the quiet, the tv a mindless background noise. You wonder if he fell asleep.
 It’s only sometime later that he’s shifting, rubbing against your shirt.
 “Baby?” he muses, sleepy and quiet.
 “Hmm?” you drone, eyes on your computer still.
 He looks around a little like he didn’t mean to fall asleep and now is trying to make sense of the missing piece in his memory. “I slept?”
 You look at him and your heart beats a little faster, an unconscious smile playing on your lips as you take in his pout, the red of his cheek from being slept on. “Yeah I think so… the drool on my shirt says that you did,” you tease.
 He flushes a little before plopping back down on your chest with a groan. He asks you what time it is and when you say a little after 9:00pm, he groans again. 
 “I don’t want to get ready,” he mumbles, hand absently squeezing your boob.
 You hum, hand back in his hair, eyes back on your school work. “You could always stay?” 
 He hums back, “Or you could come with me.”
 He sounds cute and hopeful, the little catnap making him softer and melt in your mouth sweet. Like a Hershey’s kiss that was left in the sun for just a little too long. 
 But as tempting as he is, you decline, telling him you have to get this paper done and work on that project for your writing class. And study. Spring midterms are next week after all. 
 He huffs a small sigh, sounds like he’s close to drifting off again when he mumbles, “Gonna miss you.”
 You wonder if he can feel the way your heart skips, if he can feel all the little shooting stars in your chest crash into the pit of your stomach, tiny little explosions of endearment and fondness and love. You want to tell him again, that he could stay, skip the party, if he really wanted to. But you know he has his mind made up, and that he doesn’t really want much of anything.
 Being with Jeongguk is getting harder. Not bad really, just a little more difficult to deal with. The comfort of being with him slowly morphing into a yearnful ache. You don’t let yourself think about it often, knowing that you’re not going to do anything to change the situation. Too scared to try, if you’re being honest. But in times like these where his affection is so gentle and so tender that it almost hurts? It’s hard to ignore all the things you both leave unsaid and cast to the side. 
 That doesn’t stop you, however, from reverting back to what you both know and what is safe.
 “You’ll miss me?” you tease.
 He grumbles, like he’s a little embarrassed, buries his face between your tits.
 You giggle and pull his hair a tiny bit making him look at you. “Maybe I should make you feel good before you go? Wake you up a little?”
 He narrows his eyes and scowls at you, playful fire lighting up his eyes, “I thought you had homework?”
 “I do, but it won’t take that long.”
 He rolls his eyes and sits up like he’s getting ready to leave, “I hate you. I cum in my pants one time and you never leave it alone.”
 You laugh, and as hard as he tries to keep a smile at bay, you can see the corner of his lips quirk up. He settles into the couch a little away from you and acts like he’s giving you the silent treatment.
 But you know the game, you’ve both played it before. Act mad and hurt, get babied and taken care of. You give in, so easy for him just like the first time you made him cum and all the other times after that. 
 You don’t waste time as you crawl over to him and settle on his lap, your hips straddling his. He doesn’t give you much other than his hands resting on your ass, thumbs slipping under your shirt to rub a bit at your hip bones. He regards you quietly, just looking you over until his eyes land on your lips and hesitate before flicking back to your eyes.
 You lean in, ready to give him what he clearly wants, but he’s stubborn as ever despite his suppleness, turning his head away at the last moment with a close-lipped giggle. 
 You scoff softly before taking a new route, undeterred. Now going straight for his neck, kissing on the little mole he has on the side. Your tongue tastes him first, skin warm and clean, before your lips latch on in a light suction, barely sucking as he purrs and tilts his head. 
 A hand travels down his chest and you palm him over his sweats at the same time that you pull some skin between your teeth and bite. He gasps, and the hands on your ass squeeze, pulling you closer to him, and you revel in the way his hips just barely push up into your palm. 
 He’s much needier and more eager when he’s in this mood. Not quite submissive, but more lenient. Maybe you’re taking advantage of his soft, hazy state when you start sucking a bruise on his neck, right over that freckle where everyone can see, but you can’t help yourself. Once you taste a star, it’s a constant craving, something that you fiend for. And when he feels the pressure of your mouth, and the pain, he doesn’t stop you, just pulls you impossibly closer. He hisses when you scrape your teeth and then whines when you lick over the mark.
 You pull away when he starts to squirm and then settle on the floor, the plush rug underneath you a soft cushion for your knees. He spreads his legs quickly, easy for you in the way you typically are for him. Looking down his nose at you, he waits patiently for you to start touching him again.
 When you do, he lets out the softest sigh, lets his head fall back for just a moment before looking at you again, a newfound darkness swimming in his eyes. He’s already hard, just from a few small touches over his clothes and a couple kisses to his neck. His pants get pushed down, pooling by his ankles. 
 You moan a little when you take him in your hand, rub your thighs together some. The skin of his length is a pretty pink, and soft to the touch. 
 “Already hard?” you ask, a smile in your voice as you grip him a little tighter and stroke slowly.
 He nods, eyes going between your hand and your face. Your hair is messy and you’ve got your big round reading glasses on. “I’m always super horny when I wake up, you know that,” he tells you, unashamed.
 Humming, you nod. You do know, but you wish you knew better. You wish you got to experience it more. Got to wake up with him more than you do, got to disappear under the covers in the soft morning light to wrap your lips around him more often than you do, got to wake him up with slow slurps and wet kisses more than you do. You wish you just got to be with him more than you do.
 But you don’t.
 The passive reminder is heavy on your heart like he is heavy on your tongue, the tip of his cock leaking just a tiny bit when you press your tongue flat to the sensitive part under the head. You look at him as you do that, you take in the way his brows turn up and his mouth parts.
 He pushes a piece of hair behind your ear, and his voice is soft and raspy when he tells you, “You’re so pretty, baby.”
 You blush and adjust your glasses, shifting on your knees a little. “Thank you,” you reply with a quick kiss to his length.  
 Sometimes the sweet, soft things that you do make him go crazy. You think so at least, because when you place those small kitten kisses up and down his cock, it jerks in your hold, pulses hot and hard for you. When you flick your eyes to Jeongguk, his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth and his eyes are closed.
 You keep your gaze on him as you wrap your mouth completely around the swollen tip, and suckle. Your pussy clenches when Jeongguk’s body goes tense, hips dipping into the cushion of the couch like he’s trying to run away from you and how good your mouth feels. 
 “Fuck-” he whines, looking at you quickly before letting his eyes fall shut again.
 He brings his hands up, laces them through your hair and pushes slightly, kind of encouraging you to sink down farther, but not demanding like he usually would. You let his hands slowly guide you down his cock, your palms on his thighs, feeling as they tense more and more with every inch of him that you take in. He shutters when you reach the base, nose against his lower belly, his tip brushing against the back of your throat. He pulls you off with the same sluggish speed, almost like he’s using your mouth to tease and torture himself with the leisurely pace that he’s setting.
 The next time you sink down on his cock, you stick your tongue out, and lick at his balls, making him spread his legs more and push up into your throat, the tip breaching where your gag reflex would be if you had one. 
 “Yeah, baby-” he chokes out, “Love your mouth, fuck…”
 You drool and swallow and suck on his cock like it's the last time you ever will, like it's the best thing you’ve ever tasted. You add your hands too, once Jeongguk settles back and brings his fingers to his chest, toying with his nipples rather than pulling at your hair. His eyes are hazy as he watches you, as he listens to the slick clicking noises of your strokes and nasty slurping sounds of your mouth. 
 “That’s so fucking good,” Jeongguk says as his hips twitch, a shuddering sigh tailing his groans.
 You pull off and stroke him with just your hands, wanting to see how he looks, how he reacts. The way his crew neck is bunched up with his hands underneath playing with his body just like you. How his abs tense when you rub at the little spot under the crown, how his cock spurts just a baby bit of clear precum when you do it harder.
 “So big, Koo, so wet,” you praise.
 He nods and agrees easily with a distracted and breathy, “Mmh- yeah.”
 Jeongguk is fussy in your hand squirming as he gets closer. He takes one of his hands out from under his sweater and pushes and paws at the strap of your tank top. “Off- wanna see,” he whines quietly.
 You give a cute nod, and rake your nails down his bare thighs gently and then sigh. Pleased at the way he shivers, his sleepiness making him so responsive. Then you do as he asks, pushing the straps down and letting your big tits bounce freely. 
 “God you’re so sexy,” he sighs, a hand now wrapped around his cock, stroking fast.
 “Do you like them?” you whisper, small hands grabbing and shaking them a little, nipples hardening at your own touch.
 Jeongguk nods, tells you what you already know. That he loves them, wants them in his mouth, wants his cock between them.
 “Wanna fuck them?” you offer.
 But like he wants too many things all at once and can’t decide, he backtracks on his previous statement, words fumbling and cute as he settles for just shaking his head and saying eloquently, “No. Mouth.”
 “You’re a little needy today,” you muse, bringing your hand up to grip his cock only for it to be swatted away.
 “Shut-” he moans when you tease the tip with your tongue, cock kicking and a drop of precum dribbling from his slit. “up. Mouth only.”
 “Okay baby,” you comply easily.
 Jeongguk’s tattooed hand is holding the base of his cock so it doesn’t throb and kick as your lick and suck at him, just his thumb and forefinger keeping himself in place. He sputters out tiny whines and little sighs as you blow him, little moans of your own thrumming against his length.
 When you bring your tongue back to the tip, little quick flicks over his frenulum, he tenses and jerks before sinking into the feeling.
 “Ah- just like that… your tongue, just your tongue baby.”
 His sensitivity is so gratifying. So worked up, that just the tip of your tongue is enough to get him wiggling and squirming. 
 “Think I’m gonna cum?” he warns, a puzzled pitch to his tone.
 Though Jeongguk has always been sensitive, he’s never cum from just your tongue licking at him, always needing a hand around his cock, or your mouth sucking on him, your pussy milking him. This makes a little flame burn hot in your belly, eager to make him feel good in a way you haven’t before.
 “Just from my tongue?” you ask against the tip.
 He nods, hasty and jerky with his movements. “Yeah, keep licking me- so close- please,” he says quietly.
 While making him feel good just how he asked, you flick and lick and suckle at the underside of the crown, tasting him as he leaks for you, watching as he fights against the urge to fuck up into your mouth and stroke his cock. His chest is rising and falling, puffing out hot, high pitched breaths. His free hand is now gripping at the cushion of the couch rhythmically, knuckles white. 
 You smile, with your tongue out, knowing the signs, having made him fall apart so many times before. Slurping and suctioning a little so that you can lick constantly over him is what makes him lose it.
 His jaw hangs open and his brows turn up, “I love that, oh my god, fuck-” he moans head dropping to the back of the sofa. “I’m cumming, baby,” he breathes.
 His body locks up and the hand gripping the sofa pulls at the cushion as he curls in on himself, his cock spurting out a shot of cum every time it pulses. He’s almost whimpering, as you keep flicking your tongue lightly on him. Eyes squeezed shut, hand still holding his cock in place for you, like he doesn’t want you to stop even though he’s twitching now, overstimulated and too sensitive. You give one last, slow lick over the whole length of him before you pull away.
 Finally Jeongguk untenses and lets himself relax into the couch, deep breaths filling his lungs. He looks pretty, sweaty and thoroughly fucked out, his hand idly rubbing up and down his tummy. 
 He’s still leaning back, eyes closed as he basks in the afterglow of his orgasm when he says, “Put my cock away, please.”
 You giggle and pull his sweats up for him, and he lifts his hips to help you. You pat his cock gingerly when it’s tucked inside.
 Finally he peeks at you, eyes hazy as he opens them. They get more alert quickly, though, when he sees the state you’re in. He sits up, smiling big and laughing.
 “Baby,” he coos, leaning in to peck you on the lips between his breathy laughter, “look at you, so messy,” he pinches your cheek as he sits back some, looking at how you’re covered in his cum. A spurt on your chin, another across the bridge of your nose and cheek, and a final one on the lens of your glasses.
 You beam at him and he looks you over once more before leaning down to your level again, hands fondling your tits a little as he whispers in your ear, “So, cute. My cute baby.” He kisses your temple before standing and telling you he’ll be right back with a cloth to clean you.
 It takes him a bit longer than it normally would, and when he comes out you know why. He’s dressed in his party clothes, shoes already on. A little hint of melancholy makes a home behind your ribs. But he still looks so lovely when he crouches in front of you, eyes bright like the lights in the sky. 
 “Sorry,” he says with a bashful smile, “Checked the time while I was in there- gotta run.”
 You nod, always understanding of his quick exits and flighty ways. “Have fun,” you say quietly.
 He brushes a thumb over your cheek and looks at you. His touch is gentle while his gaze is intense. With pinched brows and a pensive purse to his lips, he leans in slowly, nuzzles your cheek briefly before kissing you. 
 His kisses are evil, you’re sure of it. So deliberate and passionate that they make your head spin. Sweet as he licks into your mouth, as he breathes you in, hands cupping your faces as he brings you closer. Mean as he pulls away, leaving you breathless and longing for more. 
 “I’ll see you,” he assures you as he gets to his feet. 
 You smile because he will. 
 When you arrive at the party it’s just like any other one. You first make your way through the crowd to the kitchen, Yoongi and Taehyung in tow. You pour yourself a drink, and just like always it takes about 2 minutes for you to realize you may have been better off at home. It’s too hot, and it smells like cheap weed, and the cheap fragrance that is half hazardously spritzed here and there to try and cover up the smell. The alcohol is cheap, $10 New Amsterdam lines the counter, a bunch of half empty bottles with mismatched lids. The red solo cup in your hand is cheap. The girl in front of you sitting in Jeongguk’s lap is cheap.
 Or maybe she’s not. You don’t know. Don’t really care. In the morning, you’ll process how it’s not the other girl’s fault, and how it’s Jeongguk you should be calling names. You’ll think rationally about how she likely didn’t know about you, when she took her place on his thighs. You’ll understand that there’s no way she could have known how highly you think of the boy she’s sinking her teeth into, how you think, know he’s made of stars, how when you think of him you see the color pink. How could she? Jeongguk evidently didn’t tell her. She probably doesn’t know. You know that. You’ll process it in the morning.
 But right now all you can process the sickly feeling crawling it’s way up your throat. All you can feel is the way your palms get sweaty, and a little shaky, your fight or flight making adrenaline course through your veins as you just watch. 
 Watch as Jeongguk obliviously carries on conversations with the people you’ve come to know at these parties. You watch as he mindlessly tilts his head so the girl he has in his lap can kiss his neck better. So she can make him feel good, better. She’s sitting much like you were during the first party you attended here, on that same gross, stained sofa. Jeongguk’s got his hands all over her just like he had them all over you that night, in front of everyone. The same hands that were all over you just a few hours ago.
 You glance around the circle you’re still on the outskirts of, Taehyung and Yoongi on your flank, taking in everything you’re seeing as well, a tense silence falling over your trio, them waiting to see what you want to do. Jeongguk’s circle doesn’t even bat an eye at the fact that there is a random girl that is not you, kissing on him. They just carry on conversations with him, like he’s the best multitasker in the world. 
 Or maybe she’s not random, you think, realize. All the times you’ve declined his invites to these types of functions flash in your head and you have to close your eyes, have to really focus on not hurling the little bit of alcohol you were able to ingest on your way from the kitchen to the living room. But a laugh that you’ve always adored and grown to love these past few months fills your ears, automatically making your eyes flick open and search for him.
 He’s got his eyes closed now, and you can see the way the hand on her thigh is clenching in pleasure. He hums at something someone says, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. He chuckles again, a breathy one. A distracted one, one that’s sounded just to appease a shitty joke that’s been told. Your eyes move to the girl. She’s working her teeth and her tongue over that mark you know you left just a few hours ago. Darkening it, making it her own. She can’t erase it, no. But she can take its place. 
 It’s almost slow motion when she detaches and moves her hand to Jeongguk’s jaw. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch her, you know what she’s doing. 
 Jeongguk’s eyes flutter open in that hazy way they do when he’s distracted and turned on. When you see her apply pressure getting him to angle his head towards her, his lips towards hers, your heart clenches. He just goes with it so easily. Like it’s second nature, like he’s used to it, does it often in fact. He doesn’t even try to fight it at all. His eyes flick down to her lips, and he leans in, and you can’t watch anymore. You don’t want her to know what the stars taste like. What your star tastes like.
 “Hey Kook.” It’s still a nickname, but it sounds so much harsher than the soft ‘Koo’ or occasional ‘baby’ you usually reserve for him. 
 It’s satisfying to see the way his body tenses and the way his eyes fly open at the sound of your voice. His head looks around the room quickly a few times, before finally landing on you. 
 What’s not so satisfying is the way he makes no move to separate himself from the girl who is now just leaning her head on his shoulder, eyeing you. She’s got a sly smile on her face, and she’s kicking her legs that are swung over Jeongguk’s lap like she’s bored. Just waiting for the inevitably tense moment to pass so she can get back to what she was doing. Jeongguk clears his throat.
 “___. I- um. I didn’t think you were coming… Like I thought you said you weren’t when I saw you earlier?” He phrases it like a question, like he didn’t understand what happened earlier was a lot more than him ‘just seeing you’. Like he might be able to blame whatever this is on a miscommunication, a little mistake. 
 Your blood is boiling, but you can’t even find it in yourself to be angry with him. You guys aren’t dating. Technically he’s not doing anything wrong. If you got mad right now, it would be crazy of you; controlling. 
 No, you can’t really be angry. But you can be hurt. And you are. So irrevocably hurt, you can feel the hollow pain settle in your chest, and make a home in your lungs. It hurts to breathe.
 “Yeah… I finished my paper after all. Thought I would surprise you. Since you- since you invited me.” You cringe at the way you sound. So childish, naïve, foolish, hopeful. Your eyes jump between him and the girl still comfortably settled in his lap. You can see her playing with some of the longer pieces of his hair at the nape of his neck. You look away. 
 Jeongguk sighs like he doesn’t know how to fix the situation he’s got himself into. “You didn’t have to do that.” He has a faux sweet tone to his voice, like he’s appreciative of the gesture, the thought, but it just wasn’t necessary. 
 His coolness makes the tears that you’ve been fighting finally sting. So many welling in your eyes, you don’t even need to blink before they trek freely down your cheeks.
 A watery, self deprecating laugh leaves your lips before you murmur, “Clearly.” 
 You gesture to the girl, finally forcing you both to acknowledge the proverbial elephant in the room. Jeongguk winces, like he’s the one that’s hurt. You chuckle again. “But hey, listen. Have fun okay? I’ll see you.” Your voice cracks, and you hastily run out of the room.
 Jeongguk tries to call out to you, even pushes the girl’s legs off, but you’re already lost in the crowd. He groans and flops back onto the couch, running his hands over his face.
 When there’s loud banging on your apartment door, it’s expected.
 It’s Jeongguk. Of course it is. Out of breath from running to your door from the elevator, he has distraught eyes, like he’s frazzled with his hair askew. But still, he looks so devastatingly pretty. 
 You look at him up and down, and you feel your eyes water again. Tears welling heavy, like the numb feeling in your chest. Pictures of him with his eyes closed and a girl on his neck flash in your mind. You take a deep trembling breath, willing yourself to keep it together.
 “What?” you say simply. You try to sound mad, but really you just sound tired. 
 He shifts in your doorway, looking down at his feet before meeting your gaze. You know you look like a mess with red rimmed eyes and probably some mascara running underneath. You couldn’t be bothered.
 “Can I come in?” he whispers. 
 You scowl. “Why?”
 He shrugs, a defensive gesture. “I wanna talk to you?”
 You scoff and roll your eyes before turning away, leaving the door open for him. You sit on your couch, and watch as Jeongguk awkwardly stands in front of you. He looks so nervous and so out of place in your apartment, a sight that is such a stark difference to how he was earlier. So soft for you, so sweet for you. Easy to hold and easy to love. You never thought you’d see him in your home, antsy with stress and not pleasure. Something so cold it burns, settles in your chest.
 “__ I-”
 “You got here fast,” you interrupt. 
 Jeongguk flinches at your sharp tone. “Huh?”
 “You got to my place fast. Must have cum pretty quick huh?” The bitterness in your tone is scathing, and Jeongguk’s taken aback by your tone, having never heard you sound like that with him before.
 He sighs, “No we-”
 “Oh you didn’t? Did she just blow you?”
 “Please, __ just-” 
 “Jerked you off in the bathroom th-”
 “I didn’t fuck her __!” Jeongguk yells. His hands are in his hair, tugging before they run down his face, pulling his skin in aggravation. 
 You flinch on the couch. But you turn your nose up to him, and tuck your feet under you making yourself small. Even though you’re on the verge of tears, your words are icy. “Well, I’m sorry I interrupted and ruined that for you.”
 He sounds defeated when he groans and makes his way over to you, sitting next to you on the sofa. “I didn’t sleep with her.” 
 With him so near, you can feel the warmth of his body start to melt away the anger you felt, leaving just the tangible ache and hurt. 
 “Please look at me?” he asks quietly. He reaches his hand out, but you shy away from the touch, squeezing as close to the armrest as you can.
 You shake your head. Your chin is quivering, ugly dents forming as you suck in one of those stuttering breaths. The kind that gives away just how close you are to breaking. And if you look at him and his starshine eyes and moon glow skin you will. You know you will. 
 “Baby, please.”
 You feel his hand cup your cheek and gently press, guiding you to look at him. Just like the girl from earlier did to him. Your eyes drop to his neck and there it is. It’s an ugly dark purple mark on his soft skin. You feel sick, and the softest cry sneaks past your lips. You close your eyes and take a deep breath willing yourself to keep your composure. But it’s so hard when even just looking at him hurts. 
 When you take him in again, you’re met with his gaze. He looks pained too, despite the circumstances. Despite this being his fault. The hand on your cheek is gentle, like the thumb wiping away at your quiet tears. He looks at you. Really looks at you.
 “I swear I didn’t.” It’s said softly, but he’s begging. He’s begging you to believe him.
 And it sucks because you do. You know he’s telling the truth and it just hurts you and confuses you more. The fact that he left her to come and find you. The fact that he’s here making sure you know that he didn’t do anymore than just let her kiss on him; that he didn’t cross whatever invisible line in this ‘relationship’ that’s not even real, anymore than he already has. 
 You look at him sadly, the smallest smile on your lips as you whisper, “But you would have.”
 His face falling is all the confirmation you need, and the way your heart breaks in your chest is clean and sharp. The pain takes your breath away.
 He hangs his head, and his hand falls from your face to land on your thigh. 
 “I’m sorry.” Is all he says. No denial. No nothing that could make anything better because even the apology that just fell from his lips was only uttered because you found out. 
 But then you’re reminded that in reality, he didn’t do anything wrong. He’s not your boyfriend. You have no say in what he does, or who he does. 
 Though your lips are shy, comfortable with only his, his lips are sociable and like playing with friends. Though your hands are small, not even big enough to hold all the love for the fallen star in front of you, his are big. Big enough to hold many things, maybe not love, but surely people. It’s a painful realization, when you come to the conclusion that your naiveté got in the way of you seeing things clearly, that your rose-tinted glasses kept you from seeing things for what they really are, and not what you had wanted them to be. It’s painful getting caught in the path of an imploding star. 
 “No, I’m sorry,” you murmur, bringing a hand up to wipe at your tears. “I- you’re not mine. I shouldn’t even be upset. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You try to laugh, but it comes out pitiful and pained and wet because the stupid tears just won’t stop.
 He looks up at you hesitantly. He speaks slowly, like he’s unsure. “Just because it wasn’t wrong… doesn’t mean it was right.”
 And that’s a line if you’ve ever heard one. But it works, and it’s true. You just look at him, waiting for him to continue.
 “And I hurt you.” His hand is back on your cheek again, and his eyebrows are pinched and his lips are set in a frown. 
 Him acknowledging that pain he caused doesn’t help ease it. If anything it makes it hurt worse. 
 You nod in his palm, confirming. “Yeah, you did.”
 Maybe you’re seeing things, but his eyes well with tears to match yours, and he’s crowding closer to you taking up your space. “How do I fix it? How do I make it better?” 
 Your shoulders shake with the cries you're trying to keep in. “I don’t know if you can. Or if you even actually want to.”
 He’s frantic and he shakes his head. “No, no I do!” He’s holding your face in his hands, forcing you to see how much he means it.
 But it just makes the heavy tears fall faster. “Jeongguk you-”
 He kisses you. It’s desperate and hard, like he’s begging for something you’re not even sure he knows. Lips moving against yours slow and molten hot like lava, teeth clicking when you pull away to take a breath, to cry. Palms gripping roughly as if bruises made by hands will hurt less and replace the ones that are made from careless actions. When he backs away, it’s just enough for him to speak, his forehead on yours, his lips still brushing yours.
 “Please, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” he chants. When he finds other words besides apologies, he whispers, “Let me make it better, let me fix it.”
 His mouth leaves a blazing trail down your neck, kissing urgently but so, so softly, like it's the only thing he knows how to do gently with you. 
 I’m sorry.
 You don’t fight him when he presses into you, the weight of his body falling over you as he coaxes your legs open and settles between them. He makes you look at him and leans in to kiss you for real, on the lips. But you turn away, a whimper falling from your lips. This doesn’t discourage him, though. And you don’t stop him. His lips, or his hands. Because although they hurt you and cause you so much pain, they also make you feel so good, reminding you of all the sweet things he has said, the things he has done. Maybe he doesn’t love you but it feels like he does in that moment.
 I’m sorry.
 He’s so gentle and so careful with you, when he gets you bare. When he lines himself up and slides in. He gasps with you and moans. He buries his face in your neck, biting and sucking as he rocks his hips, before he takes a deep breath and kisses soothingly over the marks he made like he didn’t mean to lose himself and didn’t mean to cause you pain. In contrast, you dig your nails into his back for that exact reason.
 I’m sorry.
 He hisses at your harsh touch, and his hips pick up pace. He’s been whispering to you the whole time, whenever he can between the whines and groans falling from his lips. Telling you he’s sorry, how he will do better, how he’s never going to stop making you feel good. You nod, wanting to believe it, hoping that he means it. He brings a hand between your bodies, rubs you until you finish around him. Making you feel good in one of the only ways he knows how.
 Kiss me.
 He begs for the small affection as his hips start to stutter, thrusts growing erratic and jerky. You’ve always been weak for him, so you give in. Easy, easy, easy. Like it’s second-nature. Jeongguk kisses you while he cums, gasping into you, hips slowing but not stopping until he has nothing left to give.
 “Can I stay?” he asks, so softly.
 “You’ve never wanted to before,” you reply, rolling away from him.
 “I want to now,” he insists, tentatively curling around you. “Please?”
 You don’t reply, but you don’t move away.
 When you wake up, you’re surprised to see he’s still there. That he hasn’t run out on you. It’s foolish, but as you lay with him you let your mind wander. A few could be’s running laps around your fatally lovesick brain.
 The night before could be a misunderstanding. Things could be okay.
 Maybe you could be his.
 Maybe he could be yours.
 Everything is pink.
 The cherry blossoms that have reached full bloom, large pink flowers dancing when the breeze blows.
 Your heart glowing pink, beating warm in your chest. Fluttering like the petals that rain from strong branches.
 Jeongguk’s cheeks as they swell with a flush, a pink cast that’s a perfect match to the glow of your heart.
 “What are you staring at?”
 Your eyes were hazy with thought before you heard his voice, but at the sound of his soft, inquisitive tone you refocus, realizing you’ve been staring. 
 Jeongguk bringing you to the Cherry Blossom Festival was a sweet, baby pink surprise. The last few weeks have been, really. After the first stilted week following that party, after the doctor’s appointments to make sure you were clean, despite his insistence that you didn’t need to, him claiming he used protection with the other girls, and after the hard talks, things seemed to actually be going okay. Back to how they were before that night, at the very least. 
 The parties have been less frequent, and even though he doesn’t say it, you know that him not going as often, and bringing you when he does go, is him trying. Trying to show you that he cares, trying to show you that he’s sorry for hurting you. Trying to show you that he’s putting in effort that he didn’t before.
 He lets you know where he is if you’re not with him, texts you when he gets home, stays the night more often. He makes a point to take you to Blushing Brews from time to time despite him not working there anymore, tattooing full time now. The new girl behind the counter that replaced him is a little younger but nice enough even though she doesn’t give you your oat milk for free like Jeongguk used to. You think him taking you there regularly is him trying to be sentimental, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest.
 Before the incident you both were already together so often, almost constantly, so with the added bonding your lives are almost one. 
 So although things haven’t evolved into more, you think that maybe with time, they could. And you think that if he’s at least trying, that’s all you can ask for. You’re not going to push him, or demand things from him that he doesn’t willingly want to give. Because just like always, you’re worried that he will run. That you will scare him. Being with him in some way is better than not being with him at all.
 You reach a small hand up and pluck a petal from his long, blueberry locks. His eyes cross when you present the little flower to him.
 “Had something in your hair,” you say with a tiny smile.
 He blows it out of your hand. “Ugh they are everywhere,  you have some in your hair too.” He leans away from the tree trunk he was resting against and cards a tattooed hand through your hair. He pauses for a moment looking around until he finds a whole blossom that fell, instead of just single petals, tucking it behind your ear.
 You’re sitting in front of him, face to face, between his legs, your own bent and kind of caging him in. His legs doing the same to you.
 His eyes scan your face for a moment before he smiles softly, hand cupping your jaw and urging you forward for a gentle kiss. He tastes like a mix of the cherry syrup that filled the cherry blossom bread mixed and the sakura ice cream you both were munching on. Sugary sweet and creamy. 
 He hums when he pulls away, eye still closed before he grins, lazy and serene. “Are you having a good time?” he murmurs. 
 You look around. See kids running around and screaming, gathering handfuls of fallen petals and throwing them in the air just to watch them snow down once again. You see couples all over, young and old, hand in hand, or lips locked together. So many stars out despite the sun still being warm and bright in the sky.
 With eyes falling back on Jeongguk, you feel that intense lovestruck warmth bubble over in your chest, so full and overflowing with adoration. Even after the hurt he caused and the pain you felt, all you feel is love. You don’t think there could be room for anything else, no matter what happens.
 You peck him cute and sweet, and nod. “Yeah, thank you for bringing me. Everything is so pretty here.”
 His hands grip at the smallest part of your waist between his legs. “Not as pretty as you.” He brushes his nose against your cheek, and you squirm a little, his hair tickling your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear, “Prettiest girl ever.”
 He kisses on you a little, not too much considering you're out in the open, but enough to make you scoot as close to him as you can, bodies almost flush together. You breathing gets airy and you get a little lost in him, in the stars. So much so that you don’t notice when one of his hands slinks away from your waist and to his pocket.
 “Hey,” he whispers, bringing you back to earth. “I got you something.”
 You pull away surprised and look him in the eyes before you glance down at his closed fist. You pout a little, confused, before cupping your hands in front of him. He plops something light and shiny in your palms.
 The small silver necklace in your hand is simple but so beautiful. You remember lingering on it when you first got to the festival, the ornate little cherry blossom charm catching your eye. You didn’t think that Jeongguk noticed, but he must have slipped away to buy it when he went to get the food.
 Your eyes are shiny when you look up at him again, “Koo…” you whisper, “you didn’t have to-”
 “Shh,” he shushes you, his big hand petting at you, “I wanted to… do you like it? You prefer silver right? No gold?” He sounds nervous, a little eager to please and make you happy.
 You were admiring the necklace when he started speaking again, but at the mention of your jewelry preference you gaze at him again. “You remembered?”
 He smiles a little sheepishly, kind of shy. “Of course I did…” he pauses and looks like he’s debating on saying what’s on his mind. He starts slowly and hesitantly, “I know- I know it didn’t seem like it because of what I did… but I always listened, I always like, cared. I just-” he takes a deep breath like he doesn’t know how to say what he means, “I don’t know, there are just things I don’t know… things I don’t think I want.” He looks down, like he can’t face you.
 You place gentle hands on his face and urge him to meet your gaze once again. His lips are pursed and down turned and there’s an upward tilt to his pinched brows. 
 “It’s okay…” You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into him. 
 It’s okay, I love you.
 The words have been on the tip of your tongue for months, but lately, they have been trying to sneak out past your teeth on almost a daily basis. Getting harder and harder to bite down and conceal. It won’t be long before you’re choking on them, unable to swallow them anymore.
 He wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes a little. “It’s not okay,” he whispers. His sentence sounds unfinished like he has more to say, something he wants to tell you. 
 You’re heart pitter patters anxiously in your chest and you quickly speak up again before he has a chance to. 
 “I mean, don’t do it again. Please,” you laugh quietly, trying to lighten the mood, “But it’s over now and we can’t, like, change it so… we can think of it as character development!” you finish with a cheerful tone and a kiss to his neck.
 You pull back a little when you feel him tense under you for just a fraction of a second before relaxing again. He looks a little off, but kisses your worries away.
 “Yeah,” he agrees with you, tone breathy like it's said on a sigh.
 “Put it on for me?” you say handing the necklace back. You turn around between his thighs so that your back is now to him.
 Jeongguk’s fingers are gentle as they sweep your hair over your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you, the chain circling your neck. His fingers shake a little as he undoes that clasp, and he misses the hook a couple times before he finally gets it. He pulls your hair from under the dainty chain, and smooths his hands over your shoulders before placing a soft, wet kiss to the nape of your neck.
 It’s a subtle action, but it still makes your breath hitch in your throat, your heart beating just a little faster in your chest. He does it again, his tongue coming out this time, his teeth nibbling just a bit when you tilt your neck.
 “Ah- Koo-” you whine, quietly. 
 His arms are around your waist and you settle your hands on top of them like you know you should push them off, keep yourselves decent under the cherry blossom tree, but instead they just squeeze and keep him close. Your thighs squeeze together too.
 He hums into your neck, his breath hot against your ear when he whispers, “Ready to go?”
 You get to your car quickly, not bothering to dust yourselves off, stray petals littering the floor mats. Jeongguk drives, and you kiss on him while he does.
 The car ride was full of airy laughs and soft touches. Heated hands roaming over heated bodies, both yours and Jeongguk’s mind one tracked and ready. He doesn’t even get you in the door before his lips are on yours and his tongue is dancing in your mouth.
 Once he does actually get you to your room, he takes a breath, takes you in. His hands are on your hips, and yours are on his face as he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closing and breaths mingling. 
 He has his bottom lip pulled between his teeth to try and calm the giddy laughter that hasn’t stopped. You’re one in the same, tiny hiccupping giggles ring in his ears as your squeeze at his cheeks and kiss everywhere you can reach. Single pecks to his eyelids, his nose. Longer, honeyed kisses to his lips. He grips you harder, angles his hips against yours. You gasp for him, go pliant in his hold. 
 He buries his head in your neck, bites, sucks, kisses. Breathing in your subtle sweet vanilla scent, so familiar to him by now, he’s not sure he could go without a hit of it for longer than a day at this point. 
 When he reaches your collarbones, he sees the little flower nestled between the slightly protruding bones. It twinkles like a small star on your soft skin. He smiles as he toys with it for a second, before bringing his mouth back to yours, hasty and eager.
 Your hands are in his hair and he’s backing you up to the bed while his teeth nip at your lips, teeth clicking when he can’t help but smile, and consequently you smile back, instinctive and natural. You’re lost in the moment, and he’s lost in you. 
 Until you tug at his hair, keeping him in the present. You pull his mouth away from yours, but he’s needy, his lips immediately moving to whatever skin is within his reach.
 You laugh, and it sounds breathless in his ears. “Hey, Koo-” you moan, the grip in his hair tightening when his hands knead at your ass, “th-thank you.”
 He hums into your skin, a smirk on his cherry red lips. “Why are you thanking me?”
 “For today… I just-”
 Jeongguk’s kisses slow at your tone. You sound a bit unsure, a bit off. When he finally looks at you again, present enough to see through the haze of want that has clouded your bedroom, he sees it. 
 It’s so much brighter, more potent than it’s ever been before, like it’s all consuming and fervent in your eyes. Love. His heart skips a devastating beat. Not because he’s happy, or ecstatic, or relieved. But because he’s scared.
 His hands find your face, gripping a little too hard, he’s sure. Your small ones wrap around his wrists and squeeze tenderly, a little too gentle, he’s sure. 
 The way that your smile slowly drops is daunting. Your brows furrow and that little pout forms on your face and Jeongguk feels sick.
 “What’s wrong?” you ask gently, your thumb on his wrist rubbing softly over his skin.
 He shakes his head slightly, his eyes searching yours frantically waiting for that glow in them to die out. It usually does, like you’re able to contain it, bottle the feeling away until it’s like it was never there to begin with. 
 But this time it doesn't, you just continue to look at him like he is the brightest star in the sky, like he’s the other half to yours, like he completes you in that asinine way that romantics think can fix everything. He’s been there. And he knows that’s just not right. 
 “Please don’t,” he whispers.
 You’re shaking your head too, like your absentmindedly mirroring him. You sound so confused when you speak up, but you laugh a little like you don’t understand the joke. “Don’t what?”
 There is no joke. Jeongguk wishes there was. Wishes he could give you what you want, wishes that the way you look at him wasn’t suffocating, wishes that trying was enough. Because at least he did that. The last few weeks were enough for him to know that sometimes no amount of trying can make things fit together.
 “Don’t look at me like that,” he continues in a voice that sounds fraile and skittish in his ears.
 With brows even more pinched than before, and a perturbed expression on your face, you squeeze at his wrists, just a touch harder, like you’re trying to get him to focus. As if he isn’t fixated, as if he isn’t solely concentrated on your every movement, every slight change of expression. “Like what?”
 “Like you love me.”
 Jeongguk didn’t think it would hurt this bad. Didn’t think finally telling you that it wasn’t going to work, that he wasn’t going to be with you in that way, would be so profoundly painful. 
 But at the same time, part of him thinks that you knew it wouldn’t last. That you’ve known for a long time. The other part knows that you’ll hold on as long as he lets you. He’s always been so selfish with you.
 You flinch in his hold and you stutter a little as you shake your head in his hands. “Jeongguk I- it’s- please-”
 He doesn’t know what you’re begging for, but he knows he can’t give it to you. The pads of his thumb brush at the apples of your cheeks. He leans forward, kisses you softly before he murmurs against your lips, “Please just don’t- don’t ruin this,” he begs. His eyes are closed and his brows are scrunched. “We’re good like this, right?”
 He knows you’re just appeasing him when you nod your head, like you’re scared to lose him, but he lets out a relieved sigh all the same. Kisses you like he means it, because he does. So grateful that you’ve never been the pushy type, never been the type to cage him in or corner him. 
 Jeongguk loves making you cum, because you cum softly. Not like the other girls before you, during you, or the ones that will come after you. So, he focuses on that instead of the pestering thoughts in his head. The ones saying that if he could just figure himself out, maybe it could’ve been you. 
 He concentrates on shedding your clothes, fixates on the way you taste, committing it to memory. He runs his fingers over that star on your ribs, the skin just barely raised. It’s like a message in a special form of braille. I’m sorry etched into your skin, or maybe I tried. 
 You suck in a sharp breath when his tip breaches your center, and as every inch of him slides into you, you exhale a soft whine, brows pinched with a look reminiscent of pain as your lashes flutter.
 Jeongguk doesn’t take his eyes off you as he inhales your breath, drinking down the tiny moans that you make for him. He lingers on the way that you turn away from him like you’re trying to hide the flush that has covered your skin in the sweetest shade of pink, the way that you let your small hands clench into little fists. One by your head, the other at your mouth so you can bite at the knuckle. The way you gasp when he finally pushes into the hilt, back arching, toes curling.
 “So good for me baby, so perfect,” he breathes as he starts to set his pace, hips snapping forward into yours. 
 Your pussy feels like velvet around him, so wet and warm. He shudders every time his swollen tip drags against your walls, and he groans when you pull your legs back, opening yourself up for him.
 He’s got you on your back, tits bouncing as he pulls and pushes inside of you. They are plush and round, and so, so soft as he grips at them roughly. He groans when he digs his fingers in into the squishy skin, hard enough for blossoms to bloom. Your nipples are a dusty rose and they pebble when his touches go from hard to soft and teasing, rubbing over the small buds. Your breathing picks up with his strokes.
 No matter how many times he fucks you, it never gets old or tiring. You never get used to the way his fat cock stretches out your tiny cunt. You never get used to the juxtaposition between his harsh holds and tender caresses. 
 He fucks you so good every single time, it’s mind-numbing. Makes you forget about everything else. Makes you forget about the way your love seems to be on a time limit, the hourglass on its last grains of sand. He fucks you so good that you forget that he’s not yours despite you being so wholly his in every sense of the word. No more ‘you could be his’ floating around in your head.
 His, his, his.
 His to touch, to kiss, to fuck. 
 And he does exactly that. With hips still thrusting into you, he bends at the waist some, wraps his mouth around your nipple, tongue flicking lightly over it, making you mewl underneath him.
 You push up into the sensation, before you curl into yourself, hands coming to cradle his face and card through his hair, pushing some back out of his eyes. He glances at you with a gaze that feels like love, pretty and dark. Smiling, he smirks a little before briefly pulling the bud between his teeth. You hiss and let out the littlest cry of pain. He coos against your chest before soothing you with soft teasing laps of his tongue.
 With legs that are now wrapped around his waist, you use your heels to urge him to focus on fucking you, even if his mouth feels divine. 
 “Faster,” you pant, voice catching on a whine.
 “Yeah, baby?” he asks, moving so he’s over you, braced on the hands he places by your head. “Tell me what you want.”
 You moan, one hand cupping your own tit, the other just resting on his neck. He’s warm to the touch, and glistening with sweat as he fucks into you, fast just like you asked. “Want you to fuck me so good that I never forget it, never forget the way your cock feels inside of me.”
 His hips slow just a little, and he lowers himself to his forearms so that your bodies are close, the friction hot as you rub against each other. He sounds wistful when he brings his lips to your ear, cooing softly, “Don’t worry baby, I’ve already made sure you won’t.”
 He trails a hand down your body and presses against your ribs right where he knows your tattoo is. It makes you gasp, and he nips at your earlobe before he brings his hand back up.
 Instead of pinning your wrists like he normally would, Jeongguk intertwines your fingers. 
 The tears that prick your eyes could be from pleasure or a longing so deep it’s become painful, maybe both, but you don’t have a chance to discern them as your back arches, unable to squirm or move away in his hold.
 “Koo- I’m-” you warn him.
 He speeds his hips up, plunges fast and hard. “Oh baby, that’s it. Show me how this cock makes you feel, show me how I make you feel.”
 Jeongguk holds you down as you cum. Your fingers are laced with his and he moans along with you, pleasured by pleasuring you. By being the one that makes you fall apart, the one that makes you shake, and the one that makes your face look so obscenely pretty as you cum, clenching around his cock. 
 “Fuck,” he whines. Your cunt grips so tight around him, little pulsing contractions making his hips almost halt. 
 When you come down, relaxing a little in his hold, he’s quick to get his lips all over you. Not really kissing, more just mouthing at wherever he can reach as his thrusts grow erratic, fast and sloppy. 
 The sorta-kisses and pants that he breathes are burning hot. Leaving little scorch marks in their wake. When his lips find yours, when he whines the softest, most desperate ‘please’ against them; it’s searing. 
 It hurts to kiss him.
 You don’t know what he’s begging for, and you don’t know why it’s your instinct to say ‘it’s okay’, but you do. You think you hear him let out a quiet, relieved cry as he hides his face in your neck, squeezing your hands so hard you feel like your bones are going to break.
 “You gonna cum for me?” you whisper, voice salacious and saccharine sweet.
 He nods into your neck, a strained ‘Yeah’ falling from his lips. 
 “Baby, lemme see, wanna look at you,” you plead, pussy leaking again at his tone, at how wrecked he sounds.
 He groans and bites into your neck making you keen before he brings himself up a little. You whine when you see him. His eyes heavy, pupils blown. He’s flushed and his expression is hazy as he rams his cock into you, loud slaps and lewd wet noises sounding around you. His tongue licks at his lips and he bites the bottom one a little before his mouth parts, and his brows pinch, a silent moan written all over his features.
 “Gonna cum, fuck-” he whispers as his eyes roll back, before squeezing shut.
 He grits his teeth as he desperately fucks into you, a drop of sweat drips down his nose and lands on your cheek, and his hair sways around his face. You want to tuck it behind his ear so you can see it more clearly when he cums, but his hands are still holding yours. The fast pace he’s set makes your cunt tighten around him again, creaming all over his cock for the second time.
 He gasps and chokes out, “Yeah, god- I’m cumming… fuck I’m cumming-”
 His body tenses, and he spills inside of you as he buries his cock as deep as he can. Your pussy is still clenching as you feel the throbs and jerks, every spurt of white filling you up. He’s still thrusting slowly, milking himself, causing some of his cum to spill out, making you both filthy and gross.
 When he pulls out, he kisses you slow. Lazy licks of his tongue against yours, as he pets at your sweaty skin. With your hands finally free, you card them through his hair, untangling it as you go. He trails fingers down to your core and plays in the mess you both made. You whine a little, tender and a bit sore.
 He kisses you sweetly as an apology. “Let’s get you cleaned up?” he asks, voice small. 
 He takes you to the bathroom, washes you in the warm water and showers you in warm kisses. He lets you do the same to him, hands lathering vanilla soap over every ridge of his muscles. Your pussy pulses when he gets hard again as you wash his cock, but you know you wouldn’t be able to handle another round, so you stroke him till he’s cumming once more, against your tummy, with nothing but a small gasp. 
 The shower made you both pliant and docile, the comfort of your bed too hard to ignore. He falls asleep next to you, arms wrapped around your middle, soft snores tickling your neck. You run your fingers over the stars on his forearm till you succumb to exhaustion just like him. 
 When you wake in the early hours of the morning to light rainfall outside your window washing away the cherry blossoms, you’ll act surprised when Jeongguk is nowhere to be seen. Then you’ll act like it’s not a big deal; like it's the same as all the other times he didn’t stay the night. You’ll act like the ache in your chest isn’t breathtaking, agonizing. Like the pain doesn’t feel different this time. You’ll act like the first shower of the season really does signify new beginnings and you’ll act like the rain isn’t going to be a forever reminder of the end of you and him. Spring is here.
 It’s Jeongguk’s day off and he’s got his hands and his mind busy with playing video games so that he’s distracted and doesn’t have to think about the plethora of things going on in his life at the moment. All of them involving you.
 He’s distracting himself so he doesn’t have to think about the way he left in the middle of the night, after watching you briefly, asleep and serene, soft little puffs of air the only sound besides the rain outside. He is distracting himself so that the image of you reaching out in your sleep for someone who is no longer there, doesn’t plague his mind. He’s distracting himself so that he doesn’t have to acknowledge your calls or texts, incessant since he left. He’s distracting himself so that he doesn’t have to face you, and decide what to do about this thing he’s gotten himself into.
 Normally he would just brush everything under a rug and call it a day. Then settle back into the cyclical routine you both have become so used to. But there was no denying things were coming to a head, emotions gradually growing and becoming too intense, too deep to ignore. Last night was a prime example. Things were just becoming too much. You were becoming too much.
 He knows that’s a shitty way to see it. That it puts most, if not all, the blame on you. But he feels like he’s made it clear since the beginning. Clear that he doesn’t do relationships, that he doesn’t fall in love, that he doesn’t believe in stars the way that you do. Though he did try to make it work. Make himself want what you want. He feels bad. He’s always wanted this to end painlessly, even if that was a far fetched wish, delusional and too hopeful for someone like him. 
 It’ll hurt him too when it’s over. Despite his best efforts to keep his distance, and his feelings out of it, he would be a liar if he said he didn’t grow fond of you. If he said that he didn’t become so attached and comfortable, that even just the few hours he’s been apart from you, weren’t eating at him a little. Even with distractions, the dull ache and unfamiliar longing he feels still thrums in his chest. Like a pesky reminder that something is missing.
 Jimin is next to him on his couch, Jeongguk having called his friend over as another pastime. Jeongguk can see Jimin glancing between him and the phone on the cushion between them that hasn’t stopped going off. When Jimin finally speaks up, it’s expected.
 “Dude. What are you doing?”
 Jeongguk’s jaw tenses, and he too glances at your face on the screen until it goes black. He waits not even a minute before it’s lighting up with another call from you. He flips the phone over and goes back to his game only to see his character died. He groans and sets his controller in his lap before scrubbing his hands over his face.
 “Spring cleaning,” Jeongguk replies, trying to keep his tone nonchalant. 
 “God you're an ass,” Jimin laughs in an incredulous way, “Isn’t it a little late to be ghosting her? I’ve been with Tae for like four months, so it’s gotta be like what? Six months for you guys?”
 “Eight,” Jeongguk drones.
 Jimin’s eyebrows raise. “That’s pretty long for you…”
 He nods, expression a little sullen. The dark circles under his eyes make him look tired. “Yeah, a hook up turned fling turned whatever the fuck it is now… it’s just too much man.”
 Jimin frowns a little before he hums and Jeongguk plays his game while he waits for his friend to process his thoughts. Jimin’s voice is curious and gentle, not accusatory at all. “Is it ‘too much’ because you’re starting to care too much and you don’t know how to deal with that?”
 Jeongguk goes stiff on the couch, and his chest constricts a little. No, that wasn’t it. It can’t be. It’s always been you that cares too much, and him that's never cared enough. It’s you who has always been just a little too much. Too kind, too sensitive, too intense, too in your head, too in love. It’s always been you. You, you, you.
 He’s about to tell Jimin that, vehemently deny what he just said, but Jeongguk doesn’t get a chance to because there’s a knock on his door.
 It’s you.
 Jeongguk knows before Jimin answers the door. He knows before you sneak in despite Jimin doing his best to be a good friend and cover for him, saying that Jeongguk is out and that he’s just house sitting. 
 He knows it’s you before you stand in front of him and state, “I love you.”
 It’s so quiet after you say it, the only sound being heard is the soft video game music barely audible as is. Jeongguk’s hands grip at his controller tight, his knuckles going white, the ink of his tattoos a stark contrast to the skin.
 “Okay…” Jimin murmurs, “I’m going to Tae’s, Jeongguk text me later… or something…” 
 When the door shuts, the atmosphere is heavy with tension. So many different emotions swirling in the small living room, yours and his all mixing together to create a thick concoction that makes the air hard to breathe.
 Jeongguk’s quiet for a moment longer, fingers still jumping on his controller. He can hear your ragged breathing. He glances at you briefly before looking at his game again. 
 “I know,” he responds slowly.
 In his peripheral, he can see the way you deflate, how your face drops and how your lungs exhale a doleful sigh. Dejection is clear in your stance and disappointment permeates the already noxious air.
 Jeongguk lets out a sigh of his own as his brows pinch and his eyes scrunch shut. He meant for it to sound factual, more like a statement, because he did know. He has known for a long time now. He didn’t intend for it to sound patronizing or cruel. 
 “___,” he starts, ready to apologize.
 But he’s cut off.
 “Fuck you,” you whisper, before he gets the change to explain.  
 He pauses his game and looks at you, eyes wide in disbelief. Your voice holds so much pain and resentment that he physically has to keep from recoiling. You didn’t even sound like that after the party. 
 He knows the animosity directed at him isn’t unwarranted, but that doesn’t stop his own irritation from bubbling up, dark and vile in his throat. His expression goes from one of doubt and concern to one of annoyance and discontent.
 “No, fuck you. Why the fuck are you here ___?”
 “What do you mean why the fuck am I here?” you exasperate, throwing your hands up, “You left me in the middle of the night. You disappeared, I woke up and you weren’t there.” You start off strong but taper out at the end.
 Jeongguk feels his heart break just a little, small cracks like spider veins fracture the surface when he hears the way your voice shakes, like you’re trying so hard to hold on to the anger you feel and not let the hurt, the betrayal seep through.
 It’s like whiplash with you. His emotions flipping like a switch, at the drop of a dime. It goes from him feeling irritated and mad, close to throwing you out, to him feeling bad, like he needs to coddle you, take care of you. His hands reach out for just a moment like he wants to hold you.
 “I’m sorry-”
 “Why did you leave?” you interject.
 Jeongguk’s hands drop as he fishes for the right words to say, to explain to you why he couldn’t stay. Why one more rest with you would have been too much. The love in your eyes didn’t fade at all last night, his only reprieve coming when you closed your eyes to sleep. He couldn’t be there when you woke up, only to see it again. Sleepy, calm, poignant love and adoration that is misplaced and wasted on someone like him. 
 He doesn’t mean for it to come out cold and detached but it does when he says, “It was better for you if I left.” But he can’t help it. His walls are coming up and his doors are closing. He shouldn’t have let you in in the first place, shouldn’t have let you stay so long.
 You look at him like you’re desperately trying to understand what he means, why he does the things he does. “Why would that be better for me?” you almost beg. “Why can’t you just be better for me?”
 You’re crying now, and though he aches because you ache, so fucking in tune with you at this point, something about your words makes something ugly and mean stir inside of him. But he bites it down, swallows even though he feels like he’s going to be sick. He still tries to be gentle with you, patient as he calmly says, “Baby… I can’t be what you need, this-”
 “Why can’t you?” you interrupt, voice sharp and insistent. Demanding and hurt.
 “Because I-”
 “Because you won’t try?” 
 God, you won’t stop interrupting him. He raises to his feet and his voice raises as well, frustration over taking the patience he’s tried to keep with you.
 “I did try! I’m texting you constantly about where I am, I’m not going to parties or hanging out with my friends. I hardly sleep by myself anymore! I’m always fucking with you, what more do you want from me?”
 You’re jaw drops and you feel like you’ve been slapped in the face. Months of never asking for more than he was willing to give, months of settling for what he did, and he still ended up resenting you. Blaming you for whatever it is that seems like it almost destined you both to fail. It hurts. 
 “I never asked you to do that! I never demanded anything from you. I never wanted anything you didn’t want to give. I still don’t!”
 “I did it for you! I tried for you,” he almost whines, but his tone still holds some anger. “Almost everything I do is for you. I did all of it so that this,” he gestures between the two of you, “wouldn’t hurt so bad.”
 You look at him like you cannot believe the words that came out of his mouth. A short laugh falls from your lips. It lacks the joy and warmth that usually accompanies the smiles you give him. This one is sarcastic and cold and unconvinced. “You didn’t do shit for me, Jeongguk. You’re selfish. You always have been.”
 You watch as he slumps, like you’ve figured it out.
 He’s been pacing a little as the conversation between you both escalates, but he comes to a stop a little bit in front of you, his eyes sad and searching. 
 You’re right, but you’re also so devastatingly wrong. Because didn’t you know? He indeed did do so many things for you, with you in mind. Because yes, he is selfish with you. But he never wanted to hurt you. He’s always cared in his own twisted way.
 All those nights that you wanted him to stay, but he chose not to and left you alone, were for you. Because if it hurts now, letting him go, imagine how excruciating it would be if he had stayed. Imagine how many more nights you would have to remember when you wished you could forget.
 The lack of a label was for you too. Because although they say labels don’t mean much, when you have it and it gets taken away, it’s just a reminder of what you have lost. In his mind, you couldn’t miss being in a relationship with him if you never really were.
 In hindsight, it was for him too. This hurts more than he thought it would, but you and him? It has to end, it’s gone on too long already.
 But he lets you believe what you want. He lets you think that he is the bad guy. He thinks that maybe you need to blame him, despite the flaws in yourself, in order for you to be okay. And maybe you’re not wrong. Maybe he is the bad guy. He feels like he is. 
 “I don’t know what you want me to say, ___,” he says.
 “I want you to tell me, why. Why can’t you be better for me?” you repeat. “Why didn’t you let me go? Why did you hurt me over and over and over again? Why did you waste both of our time?” You’re borderline yelling, and the tears leaking from the corners of your eyes are a perfect mix of bitter and heartbroken. “Why can’t you just love me the way you’re supposed to?”
 Jeongguk takes in the angry curve of your brow and your quivering chin. But it doesn’t hit him like it should. It doesn’t tug at his heart like it should. In that moment, he doesn’t want to make it better anymore, he doesn’t want to do anything to ease the pain that is so evidently written on your face. His emotions flip flopping once again.
 Like he’s supposed to. There’s something about that sentence, something about the way you phrase certain things that just irks him, makes his blood boil. Like you’ve idealized and romanticized things so much that you don’t realize that there is no ‘supposed to be’. 
 There is no status quo for love. 
 There’s no predetermined way for things to be or end up. 
 Things, love, life- it just doesn’t work like that. 
 It’s always been like this though, you saying something, him getting annoyed and then him tucking it away because it wasn’t really that big of a deal, because he didn’t want to hurt you by mentioning it. 
 But tucking everything away has let it build up and fester like an infection. He can’t keep the condescending venom out of his words, and once they start coming out, they won’t stop. He hates himself for it, and he’s sorry before the words even leave his lips. Because fuck, he doesn’t want to hurt you. 
 But he knows he’s going to. That maybe he has to in order for you to see what he meant, on the pier that night so long ago, when he said that you would find out what it means to be someone like him. Someone you shouldn’t have made the brightest star in your sky.
 “What? Like how you wrote it in your head?” he seethes. He waits, impatient for an answer, but all he gets is your expression going from pained to confused. “Huh?” he eggs you on, and you stutter a little before he continues, “Okay, tell me what happens next. How did you script it, ___?” 
 He takes a step closer to you and tilts his head while looking at you. You shrink in on yourself, but don’t back away. “C’mon, tell me how it goes. Fast forward- make me fall in love with you,” his voice is antagonizing and malicious. “That’s what you wanted the whole time, right? That’s how it’s supposed to be?”
 You’re taken aback as you shake your head at him, like he’s got it all wrong, like he’s lying. “I- I did try, I tried to get you to Io-”
 He cuts you off, his bottled up feelings spilling out. “No, you didn’t. You wrote a fucking story in your head and made it your mission to bring it to life through you and me.” 
 With harsh breaths huffing from his nose, and his chest rising and falling, he looks at you. Waiting for his words to sink in. You don’t respond, and you jump a little when sets his hands on your shoulders. His demeanor is closed off and cold. 
 “We aren’t characters that need development or whatever the fuck, and we live normal lives. We don’t live through chapters, and we don’t get happy endings. I can’t be the me you’ve created in your head.” 
 He’s whispering and his words are razor sharp, full of disgust and disdain. “I’m not a character in your story, and I’m not made of the fucking stars. I’m my own fucking person, and I will never be yours, not like that.” 
 His chest is heaving and it feels like he’s taking all the air in the room because you can’t breathe. 
 You tried so hard to separate him, both of you, from the versions of you and him that you had in your head. Ever since that lecture. But dreaming of different things, different realities, was how you dealt with it. With him being the calamitous contradiction that he is. So sweet and easy to love, yet so unattainable in the same breath. 
 In one reality, you were his, and in another he was yours. In a different one, you both were one and the same. A single star. You had hoped that that was this reality. But it seems that you were wrong. 
 “I’m sorry,” you breathe, an airy panic lacing your tone. “I know I can get lost in my head sometimes, but I didn’t mean to. I actively tried not to with you,” you tell him, clenching at his shirt, desperate for him to understand and believe you.
 His eyes stay hard though, as he looks down his nose at you. And you know you’ve lost him. The indifference in his gaze is stifling and it brings fresh tears to your eyes. It’s like he has his mind made up. You think maybe it’s been made up since he left your bed last night.
 “You should go,” he says quietly. His hands are gentle but insistent as he untangles yours from him.
 “Jeongguk, Koo- please-”
 “___, just stop! You’re making this harder. For both of us! You’re making it hurt worse- I- it was never going to work, you know that,” he tells you, his hands moving to your shoulders, pushing you away and softly as he can. He sounds desperate, like he’s trying to convince someone. You, maybe himself. 
 It’s possibly the way the light hits them, but you think you see his eyes go glassy as he says, “Please leave, ___.”
 And so you do. You’ve never asked for what he didn’t want to give. 
 You dreamt of different realities to help deal with things because in this reality, you were just visiting, and he was just passing through.
 The world doesn’t stop spinning just because you’re hurting and time doesn’t stand still or give you a moment to catch your breath. The stars still glow in the sky, they still fall to earth, and the sun still shines warm up above even though it still feels cold without him by your side. 
 The ever present, lonely, raw pain that comes from losing someone that had become such an integral part of your life is a reminder that love is no longer the soft pink you once thought it was, but the same shade of blue that stains your pillowcases. 
 When you said pain was good for your art, you didn’t mean this kind. 
 But alas, you still have to live; go. Go to the last few weeks of classes, brain on autopilot for your finals. Go through the motions of getting your cap and gown, walking the stage, getting your degree. 
 Go on as if seeing Jimin at your graduation for Taehyung doesn’t cause a sheer, acute ache in your chest when you see he came alone. No blue in sight, just blue in your heart. 
 You give Jimin the necklace resting between your collarbones because it just doesn’t go there anymore, telling him to give it back to Jeongguk. You go on and on with a sad smile about how it’s okay, about how it’s not going good yet, but going nonetheless. 
 Going eventually turns to moving. Moving across the globe for an internship. Moving to just get away from it all, moving for a fresh start. 
 You move things around your new place alone, even though help would have been nice, just so you know you can move by yourself- just be by yourself. 
 You move around the new city as if it’s your first life, awestruck by the hustle and bustle, the world so much bigger than you thought. Bigger than doe-eyes and pretty tattoos. You move somewhere where the lights take the place of the stars. You move and come to the conclusion that maybe that’s okay. 
 Going through the motions gradually turns to moving on. Sometimes it’s still a soft tender ache, a passive yearning for what was; what could have been. But it doesn’t hurt anymore.
 It’s a different font, but the sign still says the same thing. 
 You suppose some things are bound to change in the years since you last came here. 
 Coffee shops aren’t supposed to be intimidating or daunting. But Blushing Brews is exactly that. You pause with your hand raised, the door handle just within reach. You’ve been home a couple times since you moved abroad, but you’ve never come back here.
 You know it’s silly, and a bit irrational. That the likelihood of running into someone you know in the same place you met them is slim to none. Taehyung and Jimin moved away, still in the motherland, but away. Yoongi is still in town, but most likely busy with work. 
 It’s not like they are the ones you’re worried about though.
 You don’t know exactly where Jeongguk is, but you know he’s doing well. At least since the last time you checked. You don’t lurk as often these days, if at all. Don’t feel the need to. But when you first moved you checked a lot. Of course you did.
 He kind of dropped off the map after you left. He was never big on social media to begin with, but his presence was non existent for a couple months. Until his work accounts started popping up. His pages are filled with his artwork, his tattoos. Never him though, nothing personal, only professional. He’s quite successful, has built a big name for himself. 
 You haven’t seen much of him in years. Only the occasional picture of him on Jimin’s accounts. But even those are few and far between. People get older, life gets busy. It’s probably been a year plus some since he’s popped up on one of your feeds.
 So it’s likely he’s not here. He wasn’t the type to stay in one place for too long.
 When you walk in it’s like a tsunami of nostalgia. It knocks the wind out of you and you have to pause to catch your breath.
 It’s renovated, almost nothing the same, but the counter is right where it was before and so is the table you used to sit at. Right by the window. It’s busy inside, but your spot is empty, almost like you were supposed to come in, take a rest. Catch your breath.
 The smell of coffee is familiar and the chatter of people around you is comforting in a strange way. You kind of feel like you’re in a fishbowl, watching the outside from within, the voices muted because your ears are filled with water.
 You jump when you feel a tap on your shoulder and you hold your breath when you turn around.
 “Miss, are you going to order?”
 You exhale, loud and let out a shaky laugh telling the person to go ahead. It’s not going to happen. Life doesn’t work like that.
 The boy behind the counter is sweet, looks about the age you were when you would come here just a handful years ago. He tells you the specials with a happy grin, asks if you’re okay paying extra for the oat milk in your iced latte.
 Being sat at the table is weird at first. A rush of memories whirling through your head like a vintage film reel. Too fast to decipher, too loud to discern. But eventually your mind quiets, the memories slow, and the atmosphere becomes a bit more pleasant and a little less stifling. 
 You take out your ipad, your initial intention being working here, but you open an ebook you haven’t touched in a while. A fantasy novel. One with an intricate little world to get lost in, complex characters to fall in love with, and some to grow to despise. You don’t daydream often anymore, but once in a while, it’s okay to give in.
 Typically when you get invested, it’s hard to get your attention. The world could be ending around you but as long as the world you were reading about still existed? It was like nothing else mattered. 
 So when you hear a loud laugh cut through the reading haze you safely surround yourself in, you freeze. The hairs on your arms stand up, and you close your eyes tightly before slowly scanning the cafe. 
 You scold yourself for the way your heart sinks when your search comes up empty. With a shake of your head and a sip of your coffee, you get back to your book. You started about mid-way through when you first got here, and now only have about a quarter left. You must have been here for a while. You’ll leave when you finish this chapter.
 The coffee being placed on the table is what you see first.
 “Oh, I didn’t order th-”
 “Do you still drink macchiatos?”
 God it’s cruel. 
 It’s cruel, the way the world goes pink again, the way that everything feels like is aligning, like things have finally fallen into place. Like you can see clearer than you have in years, like you can breathe easier than you have since you left. Like everything that happened before only happened to lead you right to this exact moment.
 It’s cruel because that’s not the way things work.
 Since you’ve been away, you’ve grown up and realized that stars are just stars and that people are just people. Creatures of habit and selfish by nature. You still believe in love and in endings that are happy but you’re not naive anymore. You don’t believe in fate, or the little lights in the sky, or in could be’s like you used to. 
 But that doesn’t stop the tiny gasp you let out when you see him. It doesn’t stop your eyes from lighting up and it doesn’t stop your heart from glowing pink in your chest, just like it used to.
 It’s not supposed to feel like this. It’s been years and you’ve moved on. His gaze isn’t supposed to feel like a kiss and his smile isn’t supposed to feel like coming home. When you take his insistent coffee from his hand and your fingers brush, it’s not supposed to still burn. The flame was supposed to go out.
 “What are you doing here?” you ask, eyes not leaving him as he takes it upon himself to sit across from you.
 His hair is brown again, unlike the blue it was when you left his apartment the last time you saw him, but it’s still long. His arm is even more full of ink, and he’s still the prettiest thing you have ever seen.
 Jeongguk laughs lightly, a twinge of uncomfort lacing it. “I had to drop stuff off, the head forgot to order sugar, but she’s out of town right now.” 
 Your brows raise. “And you’re next in command?” You try to make it a joke, but small talk after years is always a bit stiff. 
 He nods. “Yeah, well I kind of own it.”
 “Kind of?” you ask, leaning forward on your elbows.
 He goes tense, and he back tracks.
 “Well kind of because  I-” he stutters and then looks at you like he wishes he didn’t say anything.
 His panicked face has always been funny. His wide eyes and his mouth that always seems to be open a little bit. Brows turned up with misplaced worry. You smile instinctively.
 It’s always been so easy.
 “You what?” you press, tone soft and inquisitive. It’s a bit awkward, because of course it is. Time didn’t stop and you both aren’t the same as you were back then, but there’s still something. You don’t let yourself think about it. 
 He looks at you, searches your face before his lips pull down in a deep frown. He sighs and rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “I… My wife. She owns it.”
 God it’s so cruel.
 Your face falls before you can stop it. You know because his mirrors yours.
 “Y-you’re married?” It sounds shocked and tinted with unjustified betrayal, even to your own ears, so when Jeongguk shrinks in on himself it's no surprise to you.
 The betrayal is unwarranted because humans are selfish and it’s not like you stayed single this whole time. But it’s only been a small amount of years, you’re both still so young, and he’s never wanted that. Commitment, the loss of freedom, the stability, predictability.
 Or maybe, you realize, he just never wanted it with you.
 When all he does is nod, you ask as gently as you can, as innocently as possible, to not come off as if you’re prying even though you know you are. “Do I know her?”
 He nods again looking down. It’s a few long moments before he clears his throat and speaks up. His hands are folded on the table, fidgeting nervously. The band on the ring finger is glaringly obvious now, like it’s mocking you. “Do you remember Young-Mi? She’s Dae Jung’s niece?”
 If your heart could sink further than the ground it’s already sunk to, it would have. Young-Mi. The girl that took his place at the register when he started his full time tattoo work. She was sweet, and apparently the owner’s niece, but she always charged for the oat milk.
 He met her in the same place that he met you. The coffee shop is no longer yours and his, but theirs. The memories he made with you here, have probably been replaced, forgotten, to make room for his and hers. 
 The kisses that you stole with him, unknowingly in front of her while she was behind the counter and the soft touches and sweet words and the way you would sneakily lick the foam off of his upper lip- it’s all just dirtied backwash now and it’s so sick. Gut churning enough for the coffee in your belly to want to come back up. You swallow it down.
 “When?” you whisper.
 “The Fall.”
 You try to muster up a smile, try to get yourself together because fuck, you’re supposed to be over this, over him. “Because that’s your favorite season?”
 It hurts in a way you can’t explain when he replies, “Ours” and doesn’t mean you and him.
 The thing about idealizations concerning real life relations is that they are a recipe for disaster. To idealize something is to regard it as perfect and better than it is in reality. When you do that with relationships, you’re setting it up to fail. That’s always been your mistake.
 You haven’t idealized or romanticized him in a long time, and you haven’t been in a relationship with him, ever technically, but it hurts like you have. The sting is sharp and piercing, different than any you’ve felt before in regards to him.
 Jeongguk was cynical at that party so long ago. The one with the stained sofa. It was a different conversation technically. That one about soulmates, this one about idealizations, but similar enough in the way that they both end in pain and regret. And he was right, to be cynical, and a harsh realist. It’s ironic how the universe works things out. 
 You look down and smile to yourself, a willful expression to urge the tears away. When you look up, you keep the smile pasted, making it bigger in fact. You nod softly and say, “I’m so happy for you, Jeongguk.”
 He looks like he’s sorry, a little confused but he nods. “We just got a house?”
 It sounds like a question, like he’s grasping at straws to keep the conversation going but has no clue how to change the subject.
 You laugh a little. For someone who never wanted to settle down, he never really strayed very far.
 “Me too. I just moved back. I live alone though.”
 He looks taken aback by the news. Brows pinched more aggressively than before, but still confused. “You’re back? For good?”
 You shift in your seat and nod.
 “Did you tell anyone? Tae or Jimin? Yoongi?”
 You shake your head, you sound hesitant, the tone he’s taking with you making you a little unsure. “I um- I wanted it to be a surprise for my parents. The only person that knew was my sister because she let me stay with her while I got the house together.”
 Jeongguk’s head has started to shake, small little sways like he doesn’t believe you. “I- It’s been years. I didn’t think you were coming back… I didn’t know.”
 Doe-eyes aren’t supposed to be forlorn, and they aren’t supposed to carry sadness. But the ones looking back at you do. Your brows furrow and you frown, ready to ask what he's talking about when he speaks again.
 “I waited for you. For years I was waiting-”
 You shake your head like you didn’t hear him right, backing your chair up some to put space between you. “You what? I- Jeongguk. You got married.” You say it like you’re reminding him.
 He grimaces, and sighs like he’s frustrated. “Yes. We were engaged for forever but I never agreed to a date until 4 months ago because all the time before that I was hoping-” 
 Cruel, cruel, cruel. 
 This can’t be happening. 
 Your mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to say. But what is there to say? 
 “I miss you, ___.”
 You freeze and lock eyes with him. You shake your head, a shocked laugh sputtering past your lips. “Jeongguk, don’t.”
 He doesn’t listen.
 “I’ve thought about you every day-”
 “Jeongguk-” You grip the table and shut your eyes like if you will him away, this nightmare will stop. 
 He leans forward, eager declarations spilling from his mouth. But you don’t hear them because as soon as you look at him again, a little flower falls out of his shirt. Your mouth parts and your face looks like you’re in pain because you are. Your eyes bounce between the cherry blossom and his face like you can’t believe it.
 Catching on, he grips the necklace. “I was going to go back to you. Oh my god, ___ I swear I was.” 
 He waits for you to respond but you don’t. You feel like the room is closing in on itself. 
 “But Jimin gave this back to me and said you were leaving the country and that you were excited for a new start and that you were so close to being okay again and getting better I-” he deflates some as he sits back in his chair “-I couldn’t take that away from you. I couldn’t be selfish with you again.”
 “Please stop,” you whisper.
 “I never take it off because it reminds me of you. This spot in the shop has never been without a table because it was yours, and it reminds me of you.” He points to the little stars on his forearm. “I never covered it up because it reminds me of you.”
 He’s whispering now, and your tone matches his. “You’re married. You got married.”
 He shakes his head. “It’s not the same with her, it’s never felt the same. She doesn’t make me feel the way you did. The way you do.”
 “Stop talking.”
 “How was I supposed to know it was you? When I didn’t even believe in love back then?” He sounds desperate, close to tears almost.
 You’ve always thought the cruelest thing that could happen to someone was meeting the right person at the wrong time. You smile at him, soft and gentle.
 “You didn’t have to know, you just had to try.” 
 Jeongguk sees the way your eyes are dimming and how you’re shutting him out and he panics, shakes his head vehemently at you. You gasp when he clutches at your hands, when you start to gather your things. 
 “No, no, no-” he chants quietly. “This is so fucked up. Everything is so fucked up,” he squeezes your hands, jostles them some. “You still feel it, I know you still feel it too.”
 You look at him, and you see the way he means it. It’s too late, but finally. He feels the same way you do. 
 “I do feel it,” you whisper, heart heavy in your chest, “but we can’t Jeongguk, you-”
 “Do you still have your tattoo?” he cuts you off.
 You nod hesitantly. How could you ever cover it up? Erase him?
 His head hangs, and the hands that are still clutching yours squeeze tightly before coming to his hair. He rests his head in his palms for a few moments. When he looks at you again, it’s like he worked through something quietly with himself.
 He holds eye contact with you when he asks, “Can I see it again? One more time, at least?”
 You suck in a sharp breath. You know what he’s asking.
 Since you’ve been away, you’ve grown up and realized that stars are just stars and that people are just people. Creatures of habit and selfish by nature. Jeongguk is no exception to that, and maybe you haven’t changed as much as you thought.
oc homewrecker ?? LMAO but ok if you read the whole thing i am in LOVE with you (even if you hate me for the ending lol) and am so grateful for you. i can’t think of anything else to say bc i am so nervous lol but anyway if you liked it pls pls pls do all the things: like, reblog, comment, share, send an ask i am DYING to know what u thought!! thank u so so much for reading!
oh also... team jk or team oc ?
jreampie scene in jimin’s room dedicated to luna <3
ALSO!! this is my submission for the “spring will come” event run by @bangtanarmynet
prompt: “Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you still love me.” *edit* the open ending of this fic is intentional, so i unfortunately do not have plans for a part 2. one of the main points in the fic is that there’s no finite, or predetermined way for things to be. i tried to show this with how i finished the story. i hope u understand, and still love the work the same, tysm for reading <3
6K notes · View notes
noteguk · 5 months ago
wicked | jjk | m
— summary; in which incubus!jungkook likes to ruin pretty innocent things, and you might just be the perfect target. 
— contents and warnings; smut, demon!jk, religious themes, multiple smut scenes, masturbation, lots of dirty talk, fingering, oral (fem & male receiving), deepthroat/gagging, mouth fucking, big corruption kink!! (the whole point of this fic actually), incubus!Jungkook x inexperienced!reader (not a virgin), dom!jk x sub!reader, thigh riding (mentioned), big demon cock, overstimulation, tit play, hair pulling, frottage, multiple orgasms, cum eating, cum play, creampie(s), jk has a huge dick and lots of cum :), crying kink, degradation but also praise, use of the word “slut”, jungkook is evil!! so there is a bit of gaslighting and manipulation, the complex morals of demon-fucking being swept under the rug in the name of entertainment
— words; 9.1k
— author’s note: this is one long and filthy mess and I have nothing to say to defend myself. By the way, if you’re not keen on corruption kink, you might want to sit this one out because I went a bit feral on it lmao 😬 and jk is a freaking demon!! of course he’s gonna be evil 
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Jungkook had always had a preference for the innocent ones. 
It wasn’t something that he had cultivated on purpose, no, it simply started to show in a weird, repetitive pattern that he could not quite define. All that he knew was that innocence was specially fun to break down, to stain with his wicked touch, to watch as it crumbled into an empty shell of what it once was. He searched for it — that inexperience, that angelic confusion — with thundering hunger, plunged his teeth into his prey with unmatched delight once he found it. Paradoxically, Jungkook did not like virgins as much. Strange, he knew. But virgins gave him too much work, which, in the end, often wasn’t fruitful — he noticed that most humans weren’t very interested in losing their virginity to a demon, and, well, it wasn’t because someone was a virgin that they were innocent too, that much he knew. 
And that was always his priority, in the end. 
True innocence was hard to find, and that was the most frustrating part of it all. Throughout all his years roaming the earth in search of souls to corrupt, Jungkook thought he might have encountered that special brand of purity only a handful of times. And yet it was so immaculate, so intoxicating, that it was all that he could think about. 
So, when he finally found you, he thought he was about to lose his mind. 
Every once in a while, the universe would switch around in a way that everything would fall into place. As an immortal being, Jungkook saw that happening time and time again: empires rising and falling, soulmates meeting one another by random chance, the cure of a horrible sickness being discovered by accident. And it was that same incidental energy, probably catalyzed by his ravenous desire, that took him straight to your home. 
Well, perhaps it wasn’t that poetic. But saying that the rebellious teens having a slumber party upstairs had mistakenly summoned him into your apartment complex didn’t exactly have the same impact. 
But Jungkook was never someone to bite the hand that fed him — as a creature of the shadows, he had to exist as a bottom feeder, recieving what the universe gave him and twisting it into something he could gladly use. Even if he had been frustrated about the entire ouija board fiasco (turning lights on and off and levitating glasses of water weren’t precisely his favorite pastimes), it took him about two seconds to detect the sweet, aphrodisiac aroma of a stainless soul calling to him. And it was close. Very close. 
Bottom line, the teens ended up having a very disappointing spiritual conversation with a trickster entity, but Jungkook was led directly to his favorite meal. It was a win in his book.
The demon wanted to have you since the very first second he saw you. Jungkook was instantly plunged into your soul like it was a furnace heating up the entirety of your living room; a gorgeous white, rose-gold glow that emanated out of your skin and called for him to feed on like a siren calling for a lonely sailor. There was no doubt in his mind that he had finally found what he had been looking for, someone so delicate and pure that he would adore to break down. Jungkook really, really, really wanted to ruin that pretty soul of yours. 
And what a pretty soul you had. Jungkook stuck around to find out that his first impressions of you, regardless of how fascinating they had already been, were just the tip of the iceberg — the demon watched you turn into an overwhelmed, gasping mess every time one of your friends started talking to you about sex; experienced you mentally fight with your impulses and go to bed frustrated every night because you thought it was too dirty to play with yourself. Because you were embarrassed, overwhelmed even, at the idea of your own pleasure. 
That thought alone made him salivate. He knew you weren’t a virgin (those were impossible to miss), and that was why he couldn’t understand your hesitation and shame when it came to those subjects. He did not notice any trace of religious guilt or something of the sort, did not believe your parents were especially overprotective. You were just so… timid. 
It was an exquisite find, he realized, a perfect little thing crafted just from him to destroy; a timid human with pure morals and repressed desires. You were almost too good to be true. Handmade for him. 
And that was why Jungkook decided to wait. He held himself back for a long time, watching you closely, learning everything he could, thinking how he would proceed with his plans before, finally, deciding it was time to present himself to you. The most obnoxious part of that process — regardless of the person he was dealing with — was making a good first impression. Being a demon, that often went as well as anyone would expect. 
Yes, you screamed, you cursed and cried. Yes, you sat on a corner and prayed for two hours straight. Yes, you even brought a priest to exorcise the place — which made the demon a bit nauseated for about three days — but Jungkook actually thought that the whole ordeal went down well enough. He had had worst experiences in the past and, after some time, you eventually (kind of) adapted to his presence. Just as he had expected, you were pure enough to actually try and see some sort of salvation for him. It was almost cute. 
It seemed as if you thought that Jungkook was some sort of religious trial, maybe a lost soul seeking for guidance. Whatever it was, it opened a door for him to settle inside your home, a base of cautious trust that he could stand on. 
To be fair, he was kind of at fault about that, instigated that process a bit. Jungkook learned that sometimes, a peace offering was enough to make someone believe in him, and he did not hesitate to take advantage of that. You just needed a little push. 
“I will leave if you want me to, darling,” he had told you during a particularly stormy night, leaning against your kitchen counter casually. A glass cup had splattered all over the wooden tiles after he had surprised you with his random materialization, and you were too scared to step over the broken glass and run. “But let’s just talk for some time. I’m a demon, but I’m not evil. I’m not here to steal your soul or something.” 
Which was completely untrue (besides the soul part, that wasn’t his department), but he doubted you cared, since humans loved to hear pretty lies so they could comfort themselves with it. You wanted to see some niceness in him, that was all that you needed, and a request for your consent seemed to be enough. 
Besides, Jungkook wasn’t a fool when it came to his demonic advantages — he knew what he was, knew that his image was ever-changing, reflecting one’s ideal partner. He did not know what face you saw nor the voice that you heard, but he knew that it was tempting, he knew that you would fall for it. He was made for that, after all, to be molded after one’s most innermost desires. 
So he wasn’t surprised when you accepted to join him in a harmless dialogue. A silly little talk couldn’t be an issue, right? It wasn’t like you were going to sell your soul for one sack of potato chips by mistake or something. It was fine. Kind of. 
Even if you were still wary of Jungkook and his demonic shenanigans — because how could you forget that very important and inhuman detail — you were gradually allowing him into your life more and more, breaching the opening into your mind. It reached a point in which he was basically cohabiting with you, popping up at the most random of times to bother you during a work meeting, or maybe commenting about the horrible chickflicks you watched every Saturday night. Jungkook was a pleasant breakfast conversation, a late-night gossiping session after he had spent the day spying on your noisy neighbors. He was fun. He was kind. He seemed like he cared, like he was trying to do better. 
Big mistake: you started to trust him; to want him there with you. And that permitted him to move into the more... interesting parts of his plan. 
The sex dreams Jungkook gave you were often too much, woke you up with a pool of wetness and an unbearable ache between your legs. You whimpered in your sleep and fumbled around on the bed until you were gasping yourself awake, groping the sheets as you tried to ignore those carnal urges. The images were so vivid, the touches still lingered on your skin, and the pleasure of the acts you had dreamt about was still blooming inside your abdomen. It was incredibly difficult to let it go, the idea of sinking your hand beneath your underwear and dealing with that piled-up frustration became more and more tempting every night. 
But no. You couldn’t allow yourself to do it. It was too much. 
And for the first few days you managed to ignore it — to move on with your routine, to bash those sensations and images into the darkest corners of your mind so you didn’t have to think about them any further. Yet it became harder and harder to let them go and, against all fibers of your morals, you eventually found yourself wanting to fall asleep just so you could experience that overwhelming pleasure all over again. 
You pushed it aside until you just couldn’t anymore. Desire consumed you whole until there was nothing left to hold it together. And you eventually gave in. 
It was a magnificent thing, those first few cracks on your innocence. The shame that permeated your features when you finally realized that you were too horny to function, the fluttering of your eyelashes when you let your fingers play with your clit like you were discovering your pleasure for the very first time. 
Morning after morning, Jungkook hid in the shadows of your room and watched you cry and whine as you played with yourself, hand flying to your mouth every time you dared to make a loud sound — you didn’t want to be caught, didn’t want people to know that you were doing something so dirty to yourself. You almost looked guilty, he noticed, with your brows furrowed together and your eyes covered by a thin veil of tears. Jungkook fucking loved it, wanted to carry that image for eternity. Your agonizing self-indulgence made every second he had waited worth it. 
But by the time you came down from your high (sometimes after you had indulged into your second, third orgasm in a row) it was all gone, and he was left with an even stronger hunger to have you. 
Jungkook was patient, however. He wanted to see you break before he could have his taste; wanted you to beg for him to touch you instead of him asking for your permission. That was how his little game went: if everything worked out like it should, you would be the one pleading for more by the end of it, sinking down into your own perdition without even noticing the mess that you were creating. 
And everything happened just like he wanted to. 
It took you a few weeks to build up the courage to confront him, but there was a point that you could not hold it back anymore. “I know you’re doing it,” you told him sternly, walking into the living room with your arms crossed before your chest. 
It was a bright summer morning and the birds were chirping outside, the golden sunlight suddenly stopping on its tracks as it found the dark, brooding figure in your apartment. Then, there was only the shadows of his presence and the nefarious glint in his eyes. He always looked like that — like he was living on a dimension of his own, choosing to be affected by (or to affect) the material world or not. Jungkook really was an otherworldly being, so dangerously close to an angel but so far away from it. 
The demon only hummed at your words, sprawled on your sofa like he owed it. He was wearing a red satin robe that morning, opened all the way down to his muscular chest, and you swore your mind went blank for a second. “Doing what, my darling?” He has his eyes focused on the book in his hand, some strange human theory about sexuality that he found incredibly funny. “You have to be more specific, I do a lot of things in my free time.” 
You sighed heavily, clearly annoyed. Jungkook thought you smelled particularly delicious that morning, noticed traces of your wetness still clinging to your clothes, and he had to fight back a groan from leaving his throat — acting unaffected sometimes was really hard. No pun intended. “You know what I’m talking about,” you said. He adored how direct you had become, avoiding those stuttering sentences you used to throw his way. You were used to him, after all. He had done a great job bringing your defenses down. “You’re putting these… thoughts in my head. Making me dream… things.”
Direct, he thought, but still unable to speak openly about such lewd subjects. It was a gradual process, after all. 
Jungkook raised one eyebrow, but did not move his gaze from the page. That man, Freud, was hilarious. “Which thoughts, my darling?”
You rolled your eyes, but the heat on your cheeks betrayed your embarrassment. Jungkook knew you wouldn’t say it, he just wanted to see you struggle with the idea of doing it. “You know which ones, Jungkook.” Another heavy sight left you and suddenly you were losing your cool. “You’re messing with me.” 
“Maybe I am.” Jungkook raised his gaze from the book, staring you down. Your shoulders fell, all the vigor leaving your body once you met his eyes. It was his appearance, his aura, the threatening spark in his crepuscular stare — it all hit you at once, a quiet request for you to be a good human and check your posture around him. “Or maybe it’s just your filthy little mind acting up, baby. You can’t blame me for what your body wants.” 
And, when his stare navigated back to the book, you realized that the conversation, as brief as it had been, was over.
Funny thing was: you never asked Jungkook to stop. And you realized that it was because some twisted part of you was actually enjoying it — that teasing, those vulgar dreams, the sexual frustration that washed over you as you were coming down from your orgasm. The more you played with yourself, the more you came to admit that it wasn’t enough — you always felt empty, worked up, trying to find something that you couldn’t reach alone. It was never enough. It was a hellish, perpetual edging that was driving you up the walls. 
To make matters worse, you knew for a fact that you could expel Jungkook at any given moment and put an end to everything — you had researched it, and he had confirmed it himself. Demons could not stay for long if the human did not consent to their presence, but there was something in you that really wanted him there. You wanted his warmth surrounding you, wanted his honeyed voice telling you everything you wanted to hear. It was an inebriating presence, a soft buzz in the back of your mind: the desire for him to hold you, for him to touch you. Jungkook had ruined you in such a way that, even if you asked him to leave, you knew that the stain he had left on you would stay for much longer than that. 
It was terrifying to see a demon as a sexual partner, but how could you not see him like that? Jungkook was the most attractive creature you had ever been graced with, everything he did, every small movement or flickering of his stare, was so sexual that you almost cried out in pain. He teased you: he whispered in your ear and hugged you from the back; caressed your face and roamed his eyes all over your body. You thought that he was so dazzling, so charming; you wanted to feel his large hands all over you, squeezing and playing with you, wanted to have him inside you. Wanted to lay back and let him do anything he wanted with you. 
The thought of doing that with a demon, regardless of how nice he was to you, was absolutely insane, you knew, but you simply weren’t thinking straight at that point. You could only think about him — Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook — and you just knew that your own desires weren’t planted by him. The man had simply instigated something that already existed inside you, a flame that he threw gasoline on, and now you were watching as it set your entire mind on fire. 
You wanted him. And you had to have him. 
So you did. 
Those vivid nights and intrusive thoughts reached a level of discomfort that, after waking yourself up from yet another wet dream, you called for Jungkook like it was your second nature, begging for him to do something, anything, to relieve you of that self-inflicted anguish. Much to your delight, he appeared just as quickly, a devilish glint of lust shimmering in the back of his bottomless gaze. 
“Pretty little thing,” he had murmured to himself, standing next to your bed. You were sitting up on it, looking at him like he was your own version of salvation. At that moment, you couldn’t care about what he was or about which hidden intention he might have. All that you knew was that you were going to go insane if he didn’t help you deal with the hunger he had instigated. “Got yourself horny and now you need my help with it?”
“Yes,” you said, your chest heaving. The scenes from your indecent dream were still alive in your head, the ghost of your pleasure swimming inside your warm skin. There was a stickiness between your legs that you hated and adored at the same time, the tingling of anticipation that filled your core. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but… I just don’t care anymore. Help me, Jungkook, please.” 
He smirked, his black hair falling over his eyes. The heat of his palm met your thigh, making you tremble — everything was heightened when he was with you, every touch was heaven and hell at the same time. “Such a dirty human,” he trailed off, his fingers brushing up your skin, towards your shorts. Your breath caught in your throat when his digits pressed down against your clothed clit, making you whimper. They felt so much better than your own. “Want me to play with your pussy, darling? Want me to make you feel good?” 
You couldn’t nod fast enough, all inhibitions pushed aside. You felt strange doing it — you had never been so sexually desperate in your life, and you couldn’t tell where his influence ended and your own impulses started. Perhaps you were just as guilty as he was, unable to fight your own temptations. Perhaps it was all you at that point. 
“Need to hear you say it.” He undid the lace in your pajama shorts slowly, dwelling in the sound of your laborious breaths. Jungkook could smell your arousal exploding all around him, the sweet, sickening scent making him lose his mind; his cock fattening quickly inside his pants. “Can’t do anything unless you tell me to.” 
You swallowed dry, choking on your own words for a second. You couldn’t believe you were actually about to ask him that. “Want— Want you to p-play with... my pussy,” the words came out in a trembling mess from your mouth, falling on top of each other in an arrhythmic pace. If it was out of lust or embarrassment, you could not tell. “I want… want you to make me cum, please. Can’t take it anymore, I can’t do it by my-myself.” 
Maybe if he did help you, you thought, maybe it would all stop — those intense waves of hunger, that unquenchable desire inside your chest. Maybe that was all he needed from you. And then everything would go back to normal.  
Even if you weren’t sure that you actually wanted that to happen. 
Jungkook was aware of the fact that you had never been eaten out before (courtesy of your single terrible sexual partner in the past), so he took all the time in the world to do it; toying with your clit and licking your opening until you turned into a yelping mess underneath his tongue, tugging on his dark locks like you were about to die. He had a strong grip on your thighs, kept you in place while you came on his tongue like you were made for it, so pretty and ashamed that he thought that he was going to forget about his own self-restraint for a moment.
“Perfect little pussy,” he complimented as you came down from your high, two of his fingers pressing against your hole. The lower part of his face was covered by your wetness, his hooded eyes staring at you like you were the sexist thing he had ever seen. “Made to be fucked.” 
“J-Jungkook!” You cried out when his fingers entered you, the burning stretch making tears accumulate on the corners of your eyes. His mouth was back on your sensitive clit before you could protest any further, making your back arch off the bed. “T-Too much.”
He didn’t respond, only stared up at you with those piercing black eyes, silently daring you to cum one more time for him. You had asked for it, after all, so he was happy to provide. 
And when you didn’t try to push him away, he knew he had won you over. 
It wasn’t long until Jungkook was pleasuring you at every chance he got. He was burying himself between your thighs and tearing your leggings open while you were on your phone; licking and fingering you until you were cumming for him. He made you cum grinding against his thigh, made you touch yourself and edge your pussy until you were desperately begging for relief. He made you his greedy little slut faster than you could understand, could break you apart with just a snap of his fingers and watch you as you pleaded with him to finger you harder, deeper, just the way he liked it. 
Again and again, he would ask for your permission and, every single time, you would say yes — a flustered, embarrassed agreement that made his cock throb with desire. But, just as he made you cum and you were asking for more — to feel him inside you, his cock stretching you open like you knew it would — he was gone, leaving you just as frustrated as you had been before. 
Jungkook liked to play with his food, and that was the reason why he took his time before fucking you properly. He was teasing, of course. And it was working. Close to your breaking point, you were spending your days almost completely consumed by the thought of him — his overwhelming beauty, his caresses, the way he dove into your cunt with so much hunger that it seemed like he enjoyed it even more than you. Even when you went to sleep, you were plagued with dreams of him, some so vivid that you were sure were real; dreams of Jungkook moaning against your ear and grinding himself against your soaked folds, of his fingers rubbing your clit and his mouth sucking on your tits until the need for release shook you awake. 
And, yet, even in your dreams, he never fucked you. He was really cruel when he wanted to be, and it was driving you insane. 
“Jungkook,” you called his name one afternoon, when that thought was plaguing you once again. He appeared right after, wrapped in a dark suit and with his hair pushed back. He really was sin incarnate. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything, my darling.” He stepped closer and placed a kiss against your lips. You instantly melted. “What is it?”
You swallowed dry, your initial spark of courage washing away. You could not hold your posture for long when you were under his stare like that, his alluring black irises lustfully gazing at your lips. “I… wanted to know…” you struggled, “I wanted to know why you never… go all the way with me when I ask you to.” 
Jungkook smirked devilishly. “Darling, I don’t think you’re ready for me to do that just yet.” His thumb grazed over your bottom lip, a hum vibrating at the back of his throat. “I bet this pretty mouth would be amazing around my cock, though. If you would like to do that.” 
Every single time, without fail, your cheeks would heat up and your eyes would widen at the sound of his obscene words. Jungkook used them so easily, like they were created by him, and you couldn’t get used to how tempting they sounded when they left his beautiful mouth. 
But there was only one problem about what he offered you, “I… I don’t know how to suck one,” you admitted, embarrassed. “I never… there just wasn’t…” 
His breath caught in his throat. Jungkook could’ve cum right then and there: overwhelmed by the sweet, stainless inexperience that had never fully left you. It was so endearing, he thought, the way you begged him to fuck you in the same breath that you admitted you didn’t know how to. You really were flawless. He would never come across anyone like you ever again. 
“You told me that you weren’t a virgin,” he said. Of course he knew that for sure, that was something his kind would never miss. He just wanted to hear you say it. 
“I’m not.” Your eyes darted up to meet his own. Jungkook still had hunger swimming inside his gaze, his teeth nibbling at his bottom lip like he was considering what to do with you. “I had… sex before. Once. I just didn’t get the chance to… you know.”
“Suck cock?” He completed, relishing on your shyness. Even after everything that you had gone through, you were still so pure, so uneasy to explore your own sexuality. Jungkook wanted to break those walls down. “It’s no reason to worry, my darling. I can teach you, if you want.” 
You blinked. “You can?” 
Jungkook smirked, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear. His mere touch made you dizzy, his husky voice wrapping like a warm blanket around your anxious soul. “I’ll do anything you want me to,” he purred. “All you have to do is ask.” 
The first time you saw his cock, you gasped so loud that Jungkook had to laugh. He would’ve been lying if he said that he didn’t love your reaction, the amazement in your gaze as you took in his size and all details about him — his reddened tip, already leaking for you, and the vein that beautifully stood out against his skin. Jungkook had length and girth, a dangerous combination that left you somewhere between excitement and worry when you thought about taking him inside you. 
“Come on, darling, don’t be shy,” he cooled, his slender fingers holding onto the strands of your hair. The tug he gave you wasn’t strong by any means, but it was enough to have your mouth moving closer to his member, already salivating. “Give it a lick. I wanna feel your mouth around it.” 
Slightly nervous, your fingers curled around his base to give you support, your hand looking absurdly small against his fat cock. Still, you did as he requested, your tongue coming out soft and flat against his tip, tracing circles on his crown.
“Good girl,” he praised with a heavy sigh. “Can you take it in your mouth, baby?” 
“I don’t know,” you mumbled, “it’s so big.” 
Jungkook chuckled at that, his hand leaving your hair so he could caress your cheek. “Let’s start slow, okay? You can stop anytime you want.” 
You nodded, heat spreading through your cheeks. He liked his lips at the sight, following your uneasy movements as you gripped his base tighter and leaned in, mouth enveloping his tip and giving him a slight suck. 
Jungkook sighed again at the feeling, but he was more entertained watching you struggle as your jaw moved to accommodate his thickness inside your mouth. It was a sinful sight and he was starting to lose himself in your concentrated expression when you decided to sink a bit more and suck him harder. 
“Move up and down for me,” he instructed and you did as he said, fighting against the burn in your mouth as you gradually took him deeper — just a bit more every time you lowered your head. “Use your hand too, baby, make me feel good.”  
You whimpered around his cock as your hand started stroking his base, covering the parts of him that your mouth couldn’t reach. Jungkook teached you just how strong you had to suck him, how fast he liked, and how much he loved when you moaned around his members. The sticky wetness between your legs was unbearable, only growing the more he allowed himself to curse and moan in delight. 
“Can I fuck your mouth, baby?” He asked and you looked up at him. Jungkook’s eyes were focused, watching your teary ones as you nodded around him. He smiled. “Good girl.”
A few months back, you wouldn’t have accepted that. But now, Jungkook had completely broken you down into a horny, weak mess, someone that would do anything he asked you to, and you loved every second of it. 
He was proud of his work. It was one of his best.
“Relax your throat,” he told you as his hands moved to the back of your head, giving an experimental tug on your hair. You tried your best to do as he requested, placing your palms against his strong thighs in a way to try and prepare yourself. Nobody had ever done that to you before, and you didn’t know what to expect. “Your mouth looks so pretty stuffed with my cock. I can’t wait to fill it with my cum.”
Your legs weakened with his words, a moan vibrating around his cock and he rolled his hips upwards, taking himself deeper inside your mouth; your eyes shutting at the sensation of his tip brushing harshly on your tongue. Jungkook didn’t hesitate to set a rhythm, thrusting up inside your mouth as you struggled to keep yourself open for him, your jaw aching with the position. It was only when you felt him hitting the back of your throat that you choked on his size, eyes watering as he groaned above you. 
“Fuck,” he cursed, eyes closing and head thrown back. Jungkook was an image of perdition that you could get lost in, the way he bit on his lip as he fucked your mouth making your ass perk up in need. You loved the feeling that you were just being used by him, simply a tool for his own pleasure. “Ah, I knew you could take me. You never let me down.” 
Your frail sob came out muffled around his member, the vibrations of your voice making Jungkook fuck your mouth faster, harder. Every time he hit the back of your throat you gagged, nails digging in his thighs and cunt clenching around nothing, imagining what it would be like to feel him inside your pussy. You also knew he could feel how horny you were, could smell your arousal for miles, and the idea made you whine out. 
“Such a dirty little thing,” he said, watching as a tear ran down your cheek. Jungkook loved how messy you looked, so desperate with his cock stuffed in your mouth. “You were so innocent when I met you, and now…” He groaned. “Now look at you. Crying around my cock like a good slut.” 
You snapped your eyes shut and moaned out, your body completely overtaken by lust. The pain in your jaw no longer bothered you — you actually liked having Jungkook pushing your limits, making you forget about your own discomfort so you could give him more pleasure.
“I’m gonna cum.” His voice came out hoarse and firm, sending shivers down your spine. You felt his cock throbbing inside your mouth, filling your taste buds with precum. “And you’re gonna be a good girl and swallow everything.” 
He didn’t need to ask twice, because you didn’t think that there was anything else that you wanted to do. Jungkook fucked your mouth for a few more seconds, his thrusts becoming erratic, before his tip crashed against the back of your throat and he came with a loud curse and a pull of your hair that made your scalp sting. 
You whimpered as you tried your best to swallow the thick waves of his cum, his hand firmly keeping you in place as you did so. Jungkook marveled at the feeling of your throat clenching, your tongue moving so you could wipe his cock clean. “That’s it,” he hissed, “swallow all of it.” 
Jungkook came a surprising amount and yet you managed to get it all. When he was satisfied, he let go of your hair and you gasped for air as you moved up, a trail of saliva connecting your mouth to his tip. 
“So pretty,” he said tenderly, caressing your hair. You couldn’t quite decipher his expression, but you got drunk on his praise regardless. “You did a great job. Now come here.” 
You did as he requested, crawling closer to him. You had just placed your body next to his when Jungkook got on top of you and placed his hand on your neck, pulling you into a hot, sensual kiss that left you seeking for air; his knee moving between your legs to spread them for him. 
His other hand moved down, down, until they were hovering over your pussy. The demon hummed once his digits met your soaked folds, wasting no time before plunging two of them inside your heat, stretching you wide. Your back arched at the feeling, a needy whine leaving your lips as he started to pump in and out of you, filling the bedroom with the sounds of your wetness. 
He chuckled when he pulled away, his lips swollen and pink after attacking yours. “Look at you,” he murmured, setting a deliciously slow pace in your pussy, “you got this wet just by sucking my cock, baby?” 
You nodded. “I like m-making you feel good.”
Jungkook smiled. “So cute.” He leaned in and placed a kiss on your lips. The motion was oddly gentle when compared to how he was looming over you, his presence almost threatening as he met your gaze. “Do you want to have my cock again, baby? Good girls deserve rewards.”  
You almost couldn’t believe his words, a mixture of euphoria and lust washing over you. To have him inside you was all that you wished for, you couldn’t agree fast enough. “Yes, please,” you whined, choking on your own words as he added a third finger, spreading you wide for him. Your stomach clenched at the idea of his big cock pumping in and out of you, his cum filling you up as he came inside your walls. You never needed someone so much. “Use me, please. I want to feel you so bad.” 
His entertained expression did not falter. Another peck against your lips, and he was removing his fingers from you. “Always so polite,” he cooled, pushing your back against the mattress and trapping your wrists under his hand, right above your head. “I love it when you beg for it.” 
You pouted. “But you never give it to me.” 
“Tonight I will.” Jungkook chuckled, his other hand moving down to pump his cock. He was just as hard as before, but of course you didn’t expect that his immortal body would work just the same as any other human, and the sight made your mouth water. “You want this fat cock, baby?” He raised his eyebrows, watching as you swallowed hard and nodded desperately. His hands were so large, but even they looked small when enveloping his member, his thumb coming to caress his tip, coating himself with his wetness and the remnants of your saliva. “Tell me. Use your words.” 
“I need it so bad,” you said, meeting his gaze. “Need your cock inside me, please.” 
Jungkook’s eyes shone in hunger and he licked his lips. You were getting so dirty, he thought, and yet you still got shy like you used to. “You need it?” He repeated, leaning his body closer to you. When he spoke again, his words were a cloud of heat against your parted mouth. “You need me spreading that pussy open, uh? Can’t wait to have this fat cock inside you, fucking you like a good slut.” 
You cried out at his words, fumbling with his grip on your wrists. “Yes, please, Jungkook, I—”
Your sentence got stuck in your throat when you felt him placing his tip against your entrance, teasing just enough so your eyes fluttered shut, body tensing up in expectation. 
Jungkook, however, liked to tease. 
“Relax, baby.” He pulled his cock back and rested it against your pussy, rolling his hips. You gasped when his crown brushed against your clit, your entire body focused on how heavy and thick he felt pressing down on you. “You’re so tense.” 
You moaned out at every slow roll of his hips against you, the filthy sounds of his cock dragging between your wet folds making you cry out in frustration. “Please, put it in,” you begged pathetically, eyes hazed with desire. “I c-can’t take it anymore.” 
Jungkook chuckled. “You sure, baby?” 
You nodded. “Yes, fuck, that’s all I want.” 
“Whatever my pretty human wants…” he trailed off, resting his tip against your entrance once more. Your toes curled when he started slipping in, the burning of his large member spreading you open giving you waves of pain and pleasure at the same time, “she gets.” 
You shut your eyes, head thrown back against the pillow. “Oh fuck, Jungkook—“ 
“Shhh… That’s it, slowly, baby.” He guided himself languidly inside you, taking his sweet time. Jungkook enjoyed the feeling of your cunt helplessly clenching around him as he entered you, getting tighter as he moved on. “I know you can take it.” 
You tried to move your hands away from his grip again, but it was fruitless. He was holding you too strongly and you were at his mercy. “It’s so much, Jungkook,” you cried out, feeling like your whole body was in flames. You’ve never felt anything like that before, you never thought you’d be so full. “You’re too big.” 
“Is that so baby?” He leaned in and placed a kiss against your lips — soft, tranquil. All the things that he wasn’t. “You want me to stop?”
You didn’t hesitate — you never did with him. “No, please, don’t stop.” 
Jungkook smirked at your quick response. He had really trained you well, turned you into his little, obedient fuckdoll. Fuck, it made his cock throb just thinking about it, realizing that he had just taught you how to suck him off because you were so innocent that you didn’t even know how to do that. And now you were squirming under him, trying to make sense of the feeling of his large cock filling you up. It was too perfect. 
“My pretty baby needs my cock so bad, doesn’t she? That is all that you need, more of my cock inside you.” He thrusted into you so hard that you were left breathless, stopping right after so he could hear your whiny moans. “Look at you. You were made to be fucked with it.” 
“It’s… so huge.” You were almost drooling at that point, your eyes crossed and mouth parted as Jungkook pounded inside you, slowly starting to set a rhythm. You didn’t think that you’d ever be able to experience that feeling with anyone else. “Feels… so good.” 
“You love it, don’t you?” He leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours, his hand still holding tightly to your wrists. Your breasts bounced every time he pistoned his cock inside you, making everything even more pleasurable. “My pretty mortal was made to take my cock.” 
“Y-Yeah, please don’t s-stop,” you cried out, two tears running down your face with the force of his thrusts. You couldn’t even think straight, your mind was a drunken mess, intoxicated on the feeling of his member pounding into your pussy. All those frustrating nights, all those dreams — nothing could ever compare, and you thought that you were ruined forever. “It’s so good.” 
Jungkook loved to see you cry when you were so stuffed with his cock, those ethereal tears running down your face as he rammed himself deep inside you. He also loved how your moans got when you reached that point: so high-pitched and broken, your brain unable to form a single comprehensible sentence. 
“Such a pretty mortal,” he praised, taking one of his slender fingers to wipe a tear off your cheek. “So pretty when you cry…” 
“It’s— It’s so big,” you whimpered meekly. It seemed as if that was all that you could say, that thought repeating like a broken record inside your hazed mind.
Your eyes were so blurried that you almost missed the devilish smirk that appeared on his lips. “You can’t take it, baby?” Jungkook teased, rolling his hips in a way that made your pussy clench around him. You moaned out his name and your head was thrown back against the pillow; another tear running down your face in endless delight. “You annoy me for weeks, begging to be filled up with cock, and then you start crying because you can’t take it? You should be more mindful about what you ask for.” 
“N-No, that’s not it.” You swallowed hard. “I- I c-can take it, I swear.” 
Jungkook hummed and leaned back so he could stare down at the mess he was making between your legs. He groaned in approval when he saw his thick cock sinking between your soaked folds, almost to the brim. “You’re taking it right now, uh?” He looked up at you, his obsidian eyes shining wickedly. “Such a good slut. You do everything I ask you to, don’t you?” 
You nodded, desperate. You felt like the world was closing in around you, suffocating you. Jungkook was too big, too thick, the way he stretched you out was nothing but filthy. You didn’t even know if you could speak at that point.
“Everything?” He leaned closer, releasing your wrists, his mouth inches away from your ear. His breath was hot and heavy, coated by hunger. “If I wanted to keep fucking you again and again, until I am satisfied, would you let me?” 
“Yes,” you moaned out. That was all that you wanted. 
Jungkook curled his hands under your knees and pulled your legs up, closer to your chest. The new angle was a delicious discovery, a particularly loud cry exploding on your throat as he continued to fuck you. “Even if you cum so much that you can’t even do it anymore?” His thrusts became harsher, hitting impossibly deep inside you in a way that got you seeing stars. “Would you let me use your pussy and fill you up with my cum until you’re dripping? Until you can’t take it anymore and I still won’t stop?” 
“Fuck, yes.” Your eyes fluttered shut, your thighs shaking with every new collision of his hips against yours. You’d let Jungkook do anything he wanted with you, you were beyond the point of questioning anything. “Please, Jungkook, I just— oh, fuck.” 
“So fucking tight,” he cursed, his hands digging into your flesh. “Such a good pussy, so wet and tight for my cock.” 
“I’m so close,” you cried out. “Please don’t stop.”
“Can’t stop, darling,” Jungkook hissed. His hair was a sweaty mess over his eyes, his chest heaving with the pleasure that was overtaking him — he could feel everything: your high, your lust, the desperation that emanated from your soul. It was all so lewd, so stained; he could get lost in it. He could almost taste the corruption that permeated your soul. “Not when you feel this fucking good.” 
You came around his cock soon after, with a high-pitched moan that sounded dangerously close to his name. Jungkook groaned and cursed at the sensation of your walls throbbing around him, those beautiful tears staining your face as he continued to fuck you — just as fast and hard as before, watching as you started to flinch from sensitivity. 
“J-Jungkook, it’s s-so much,” you complained. 
“You told me you’d let me use this pussy, baby,” Jungkook reminded you, his voice broken by a breathy moan. You could tell that he was close, his thrusts were too sloppy and desperate. “Until I’m satisfied.” 
“Y-yes,” you whined. You hadn’t changed your mind. 
“Gonna let me fill you with my cum?” He asked again, smiling at the weak little ‘yes’ you gave him. “Not gonna stop after I cum, baby. Gonna fuck you until you can’t do it anymore.” 
You opened your mouth to say something — what, exactly, you had no idea — but soon you were feeling his hot cum spilling inside you and your mind went completely blank. You didn’t know if it was because of what Jungkook was, but everything he did was extremely easy to turn you on, and his cum inside you was no exception. A whine left your throat before you could stop yourself, your entire body overtaken by a level of desire that you couldn’t even comprehend. 
There was a moment of internal confusion as he stopped to catch his breath in which you actually thought it was over, that Jungkook was going to walk away and leave you with that desire building inside you. But the animalistic aura that surrounded him did not let you rest. 
Jungkook found your eyes through the curtain of his dark hair. “More,” he groaned. 
And that was all the warning he gave you. Soon, he was turning you around like you were a ragdoll and pressing your face against the mattress. You whimpered when his hand came in contact with your hips, pulling them up until your knees were holding you up on the bed. There was barely any time to react before his cock was sinking inside you once again.
“Oh my—” you gasped, your hand clenching on the bed sheets as Jungkook continued to pound inside you, making a mixture of his cum and your wetness drip down your legs. His stamina was insane, as you expected it would be, but the hardness of his cock was making you lose your mind. “Fuck, Jungkook.” 
“Such a perfect cunt, can’t get enough of it.” He pulled your hair as he continued to drill inside your pussy, making your body tremble with the impact. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling, your walls clenching around him as he filled you to the brim. “You’re fucking dripping on my cock. Such a dirty slut.” 
The pleasure inside you was undeniable, building up so fast that you could barely follow it. You had just reached your high and you already felt like you were about to do it all over again. “J-Jungkook, I—” The words were struggling to leave your tongue, your brain fogged by the eroticism of his actions. “So good, fuck, don’t stop.” 
There was a sting on your scalp when he tightened his grip on your hair, making you lean your head back. “You're gonna cum again, baby?” He asked, breathless. Jungkook smirked when you nodded, your teary eyes looking over your shoulders. “You’re such a horny little mortal. You just came and you’re about to cream my cock all over again, uh?” 
You moaned loud as he yanked your hair, making your back arch and your pussy clench around him. “Yes, fuck,” you cried out. The room was so hot that you could barely breathe, you felt as if the entire place was spinning around you. You were so, so close to your orgasm that you could almost touch it. “Gonna c-cum again.” 
Jungkook licked his lips, lowering his focus to the movement of his cock in and out of you. He groaned at the view of your lips wrapping around his thickness, swallowing him eagerly as your wetness dripped down your thighs, making a mess on him. It was the most gorgeous thing he had ever witnessed, he wanted to have that forever. “I knew you’d be perfect after I broke you apart,” he said. “Knew you’d love being a slut for me.” 
You could not say that you were surprised by his confession — you weren’t stupid, you knew that there was something a demon would want with you and, after the sex dreams, it wasn’t hard to add everything up. And yet you accepted his advances every step of the way, allowed him to tear you into pieces and to teach you how to be so dirty for him. And he was right: you loved every second of it. 
“Gonna cum,” you warned, eyes closing as your bliss crawled inside your skin. “Fuck— Your cock is so big, I’m gonna cu—“ 
Your orgasm was ripped from you when Jungkook abruptly removed himself from your heat. You cried and sobbed, sounds which turned into a breathless, surprised yelp when he manhandled you. 
Jungkook turned you around and pulled your legs up, pressing them down against your chest when he leaned in. “Wanna see your face when I stuff you full of my cum.” 
And that was all that he said before he was barging back inside. Your entire body shivered at the sensation, the sudden stretch pushing you over the edge and making you cum around his cock for the second time that night. 
“Sweet little girl,” he grunted, lost in his own pleasure. Your walls had grown impossibly tight around him, clenching and throbbing at each pump of his length inside you. “Love to ruin you. You’re so perfect for me. Made for this.” His sentences were just a few broken thoughts connected by heavy moans, his brows lowering as his own orgasm approached. “Gonna fuck you full of my cum. Stuff you like a good slut. Until you can’t take it anymore— Fuck.” 
Jungkook spilled himself inside you with a loud, breathy moan and a few shattered words of praise falling from his lips — of how good, how wet, how tight you were for him. Just like the first time, the sensation of him filling you up was intoxicating, making you lose your mind. 
You whined. “Jungkook, it’s so much cum, I’m—”
Your words were silenced with a crash of his lips against yours, a throaty groan leaving him as he spilled the last drops inside you, his cock throbbing a few more times as he continued to pump inside you. You could tell that he was far from satisfied when he kissed you fervorously, humming at the taste of your tongue as his hands held tightly to your hips. Jungkook’s cock was still inside you, buried deep, even if he had paused his movements. You loved how full he made you feel, knew that you were beyond the point of salvation. 
Jungkook sighed heavily against your lips and leaned back, eyes meeting the junction of your bodies as he pulled away. His cum spilled out of you slowly, making a mess on the bed sheets and marking you as his. He really thought you were one of his best works, was almost certain of it. “Perfect,” it must’ve been the hundredth time he said that, but you couldn’t get enough of it. “Made for me.” 
There was a weight on your chest when you looked up at him, watching the way his skin glowed under the moonlight. Perhaps it was guilt, you thought, or the realization that you had just stained your soul in the name of lust. Yet, you could not care about it anymore. 
You breathed out heavily when he laid down next to you, turning on your side so you could face him. Jungkook was so handsome, so perfect; the look he gave you was nothing short of sinful. “Was I good?” You asked, a drag on your voice because of your hazed, tired state. 
The demon nodded, finding that question rather adorable. “Yes, darling,” he said. “You’re quick to learn.” 
With a satisfied smirk on your face, you moved closer to him, placing your head against his chest, where you could hear no heartbeat. That moment was strange enough as it was, but you weren’t thinking clearly — also, cuddling with a demon couldn’t be worse than everything that happened before it. 
If Jungkook thought that was strange, he made no mention of it. He simply brushed a few strands of hair away from your forehead, looking down at you. “Sleepy, my darling?” He asked.
You blinked heavily. “Yes.”
He hummed, placing his palm against your cheek. “You can rest for a bit,” Jungkook said, almost gently at first. “But I’m not done with you yet.” 
After all, you did allow him to use you until he was satisfied. And he was far from it. 
Not that you were going to complain about it. 
7K notes · View notes
jungkxook · 4 months ago
—sweeter than sugar. (m)
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⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 
⟶ genre: ceo!jungkook / sugar daddy au + fluff / smut 
⟶ words: 22,258 oops
⟶ rating: 18+ 
⟶ summary: when infamous playboy jeon jungkook comes to you with a proposition that you know you should say no to, you can’t. because all you really know is that being spoiled has never felt so sweet before
⟶ warnings: lot’s of brand name dropping bc jungkook stays spoiling you!!, sprinkle of angst, unprotected sex, dry humping, grinding, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, face riding, handjob, standing sex, window sex?, riding, creampie
⟶ note: this is a repost of a fic from my old blog, just in case it looks familiar to anyone!
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You have come to find that when rich men and women are drunk enough, they will talk.
Naturally, living in the metropolis that is New York City with its crowded population of millions, you are bound to come across certain interesting people. Yet none have seemingly compared to your experiences with the social elite and upper class businessmen and women of the city. For there, nestled perfectly in the hub of the mayhem and money that is the Financial District of Lower Manhattan in a bar lounge you work at, you learn much about the inner workings and the dramatic gossip of some of the wealthiest people in the city. Stripped down to nothing but self-indulgent humans enjoying their happy hours after a day of work and incredibly drunk off of Cabernet Sauvignon red wine and smooth Louis XIII cognac and martini cocktails, they will talk. They will talk about important business deals, murmur about the hushed world of embezzlers, boast about their latest luxurious purchase, whisper about affairs, and mock fellow friends or business partners.
Of course you listen. You always listen. To you, these people are a whole other species ━ so distant from yourself yet so fascinating. It’s not as if they care about your eavesdropping either, for they do not so much as grace you with a second glance, even when you present them with their drink. Perhaps that’s for the best. After all, you’re certain you’ll never be able to understand them. It’s not as if you like them either. But there is one person in particular who becomes quite the talk of the wealthy entrepreneurs and tycoons that occupy the lounge; the same one person who catches your attention over the many nights of your shifts and you think him to be, perhaps, even more fascinating than his fellow snobby folk.
Jungkook, made of diamonds and gold, is a person you find hard to avoid.
Tabloids and whispers of the eminent young man make him known to you far before you even lay eyes on him and all you know is that he is built upon old money and glory. He is infamous, it appears from the ostentatious words that pluck him from the ordinary and hangs him high above in the endless sky, born into a world where he is lucky enough to be graced with not only the wealth but the handsome features too. You still aren’t quite sure you understand what exactly he does for a living, though you learn over time he’s inherited his father’s company of investment banking at the ripe age of 23 after his father’s retirement. Really, all that seems to pique your interest is the simple fact that he wears clothes that cost the same amount as your college tuition, if not more, whilst you are drowning in obstinate debt. It is a life he will never know, much like his life is one you will never know.
Though many attempt to degrade him as being a spoiled rich kid with a pretty face who doesn’t deserve his father’s company, you can hardly find an inkling of hatred in your bones for the boy. Instead, you find blatant envy laced in every nerve, despite still struggling internally to be thankful for the dismal life you live from a day-to-day basis. It is only on days when the universe itself decides to take it’s annoyance out on you in mundane mishaps that makes you entirely jealous of men and women at the lounge. Of the eminent man that is Jungkook.
As a college student in your final year, the looming fact of paying your tuition debt, amongst other necessities and living expenses, dangles over your head in a foreboding dark cloud. It isn’t the idea that you struggle to barely make ends meet, or yet another heated conversation you have with your landlord only a week prior, begging him to wait until you get paid to give him your rent, or the fact that you work two part-time jobs aside from attending class in an attempt to make enough money to live that makes you break down on one particular Saturday morning. It is when you return from your first job of working an eight hour shift at the café around the corner from where you live, climb the five flights of stairs to your floor after you find that the elevator isn’t working, only to scan through your daily mail of bills and taxes to find an envelope containing a letter with big, bolded words screaming at you EVICTION NOTICE, akin to two middle fingers raised high in the air for you.
That is when the severity of your situation seems to hit you because you suddenly become aware in an entirely pessimistic shame that you have failed. Failed to make ends meet and failed to make your dull routine work of running from one job to the next and attending classes. You skim the contents of the notice rather quickly, your mind stuck somewhere between terror of living on the streets and rushing to get ready for your second shift of the night, but your nervous eyes are able to catch a glimpse of the three week deadline your landlord gives you in order to either return to him the lost rent you are owing to stay or to pack your belongings and leave. You hardly have time to read the rest or devise a plan in order to save your ass as you crumple the paper in anger and toss it on your bed before moving to prepare yourself for work.
The second job you work is at the lounge. It’s popularity amongst the urbanites makes sure that you find little to no time to rest as you are running back and forth from behind the counter to customers serving drinks and other appetizers. It’s a newer job you work, having only been there for six months, but at the four month mark is when he starts showing up, as if the universe further wanted to laugh in your face and taunt that there are people who never have to work hard to simply live.
In the short time span of two months that you see him at the lounge, you never once utter a word to him as your boss makes certain that he personally tends to Jungkook and his friends in an attempt to please the rich boy. However, you admire him from afar anyway, taking note in his appearances and manners. He is always well dressed from head to toe in perfectly tailored and fitting Giorgio Armani suits. His dress shirts are usually either pure cotton or some sort of silky lavish material and a watch and rings are accessories he always seems to wear. He is generous, however, and orders the most expensive drinks for he and his friends and is the one to make sure they find a ride home but you discover he must naturally be a bit of a lush because he is always stumbling out of the lounge well into the night and blissfully inebriated, usually with a girl wrapped around his finger and fawning over him drunkenly. He is, quite obviously, a sybarite, a playboy, but a kind one at that ━ or perhaps that is just a facade.
You do not see him at first when you begin your shift that night, but he seems to make an appearance at the most terrible of times. It is just as you’re finally clocking out for your break and take a step outside next to the building for a breath of air, further off from the other customers of the lounge who like to sit on the patio with a burning cigarette limply dangling from fingertips or the finest of cigars, when you find your boss, Namjoon, joining your side to tell you something you aren’t at all prepared to hear.
“Y/N, I actually wanted to talk to you,” he starts, his tone casual. The night is cool despite being mid-spring, and a breeze ruffles his dark hair and sends a chill down your spine.
“Am I in trouble?” You ask, and though it is supposed to be a joke, you can’t help but fear for a moment about whether you might actually be.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” he says with a lighthearted chuckle. “No, no. It’s just that━ Well, you see━ You’re most certainly one of our best employees here but, that being said, I think━ Ahem, simply put, with all the new hires we got recently and all their training, we unfortunately are going to have to start pulling your hours.”
His words don’t seem to register in your mind at first and you look at him curiously, dumbfounded. “You what?”
“From now on, we only need you to work ten hours a week here,” he says. “Just for the time being━”
“You’re cutting back on my hours?” You ask abruptly. “Why me?”
“If it makes you feel any better, you aren’t the only one this is happening to,” he replies. “It’s a really shitty thing to do, I know, but we have no other choice.”
Finally, what he says seems to sink in and your eyes widen in disbelief. You push yourself off the wall you are leaning against and round on him instantly. “No, no, you can’t! Please! I need those extra hours and the money━ Look, I just got the news today that I might be kicked out of my apartment in less than a month and I still need to pay back my school tuition. I can’t afford to━”
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Namjoon says, entirely in a dismissive manner that has you coming to a complete halt and making you feel absolutely foolish. “But there’s nothing I can do right now━ Ah! If it isn’t the man himself! Jungkook! Glad to see you could make it. Excuse me, doll━”
Your boss moves quickly, parting from you with a final pat on your shoulder as if to poorly console you before shifting his attention over to the newcomer, to Jungkook. You’re seething with absolute rage that boils in the pit of your stomach and the tips of your fingers, your mouth hanging opened in an appalled gap, as you whirl around only to have your eyes settle upon your boss devoting all his attention to Jungkook and the friend by his side who is digging through his pockets for a cigarette atop the patio just behind you. You are left entirely forgotten and bristling with anger that you find hard to keep under control as you gawk at your boss before realizing that Jungkook is staring at you.
His dark chocolate pupils peer at you under the shimmering moonlight, reflecting something soft and pensive, but what exactly he is thinking, you can’t surely make out. It catches you off guard and has you clamping your mouth shut as if to showcase some sort of proper etiquette around the prestige boy, a blush warming your cheeks, because why is he looking at you? He’s never taken the time to so much as glance your way with any sort of interest ━ or so you thought ━ and yet here he is, his intimidating eyes piercing yours and making you shift uncomfortably in your spot. You don’t bother to linger any longer after that.
As soon as his friend is calling for his attention, and Jungkook turns to avert his gaze to the conversation that is happening without him, you round on your heel and briskly walk back into the lounge, your mind in a haze of embarrassed confusion and anger.
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Your awkward encounter with Jungkook is quick to slip your mind as soon as you are hurled back into the persistent problems of your life.
The next few days elapse into one another in a useless blur as you try to beg your boss at your first job to allow you more shifts, while simultaneously trying to discover what you will do and who you can live with if you are evicted. Moving back in with your parents seems the most practical but least favourable when they live too far away from your jobs and school. You’re considering asking a close friend if you can live with them for a few weeks when the universe seems to present itself to you one more time, but in a way to redeem itself.
It happens on that Wednesday, only a few days after receiving the eviction notice. You return to your job at the lounge that night for a rather usually dull shift as not many people seem to come out on a night that is in the middle of the week. It’s slow, as you expect, and you try to spend the time by cleaning the bar counter, cleaning the shelves that the bottles of liquor stand on, cleaning glasses, and repeating the process again and again, but even that becomes tedious after a while. The lounge itself isn’t typically a place of gathering for just anybody with it’s all glass panes, dark interior, and lights of hues of purple and blue to help with the ambiance, modern furniture, and smooth jazz music to tie it all perfectly together. It’s nearing 7pm when the door swings open but you hardly pay much attention as you’re uselessly wiping the counter and fretting over the notice. When you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind you, you spin around and come face-to-face with none other than Jungkook.
An involuntary gasp slips past your parted lips before you can swallow it back and your hands quickly abandon the rag you’re holding to nervously smooth down your hair and clothes.
“Hi there,” he smiles and, when he does, it is something daunting and mischievous.
He’s abandoned his usual Armani attire for something a little more casual though even your untrained eye can sense that the clothes he wears still costs much more than what you earn in a day. A Saint Laurent bomber jacket, a Rolex watch, Louis Vuitton dress shoes. His blonde locks are parted ever so slightly off to the side and, as he moves to certain angles under the dim lights of the lounge, you catch sight of the tattoos that cover his arm and are mostly always covered up. Up close, you can see features on his face that you would have otherwise misplaced, like the dainty point of his nose or the piercings on his ears or just how big his eyes truly are, giving him a more youthful appearance even though he is not much older than you as it is. You’re so mesmerized and too busy studying his dazzling attire to notice the fact that he speaks to you that it takes you a moment to respond.
“O━Oh, um, hi,” You force a smile on your face that is visibly so. You gulp back your nerves and straighten up, fighting for your voice. “What can I get you?”
“Just water is fine, actually,” he says and, goodness, why was his voice so smooth and luxurious?
You quirk a brow, the question tumbling from you before you can stop it. “You’re telling me that you came all the way down here for a glass of water that you can easily get at your home?”
Your mouth quickly snaps shut, as you’re suddenly fearful of having said something wrong, but the boy in front of you only chuckles and shrugs sheepishly.
“Ah, well, it’s a Wednesday night and I do have to work tomorrow,” he says.
He’s still smiling as he watches you and the sight has you nervous once more. To avoid his intense stare, you move to gather him a glass of water. It’s silent as you do so, the only sound coming from the other chatter of customers and the music that plays in the foreground. When you slide his drink over to him, his smile widens and he nods.
You nod timidly and try to distract yourself by cleaning once more. Not even before you can turn fully away from him, he’s speaking again.
“So, you know of me, huh?” he asks and then stops himself. “Sorry, that sounded very conceited of me. I’m just━ I don’t know. Surprised.”
“You’re quite the talk of the city,” You point out in a matter-of-fact tone and giggle. “It’s hard to not know who you are.”
Jungkook licks his lips and smiles almost bashfully. The sight seems so rare that it has you staring at him in wonder. His eyes flicked up to look at you past his long lashes and then he lifts his chin to properly face you. “Then who do I have the fortune of speaking to tonight?”
“Y/N,” You introduce, holding out a hand for him. “It’s most certainly a pleasure to meet you properly, sir.”
The boy takes your hand in his, his skin smooth and delicate, and then he does something you do not expect at all. He turns your palm over so that the back of your hand is facing him and he presses a small kiss to your knuckles that leaves tingles running down your spine.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says.
You must be entirely gawking at him again as he lets go of your hand because he laughs and straightens up in his seat, taking a sip of his water.
“I actually wanted to talk to you,” he says.
“M━Me?” You ask, still stunned. “Did you want to speak with Namjoon? He isn’t in right now but I can leave a note for you, if you want━”
“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary,” he replies, gently turning down your suggestion. “No, you were just the person I was hoping to find tonight.”
“Oh, really?” You question and Jungkook nods. “Then what can I do for you?”
The smile on his face shifts into a smirk and he pauses to take another sip of his water, leaving you in hanging anticipation. He sets his glass down and props his elbows up on the counter, leaning forward.
“I’ve come to offer you a proposition,” he says.
“A proposition?” You echo.
“Mhm, and it’s one I hope you don’t turn down,” he continues. “See, the other night on Saturday, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking to your boss about your shifts, or lack thereof, and━”
“You heard that?” You gasp, dismayed. “You were eavesdropping?”
“Not exactly,” Jungkook says. “I just so happened to stumble outside just as you were complaining.”
You eye him warily, folding your arms over your chest. “Okay, go on.”
“Well,” Jungkook begins, “I’m here to offer you a job but, I must warn you, it’s a very different kind of job.”
His words seem to intrigue you as you absentmindedly take a step closer to him, lowering your head to listen closely. You don’t reply back but, judging by the interested look on your face, Jungkook casually carries on. He locks gazes with you then, a hard unbreakable gaze that has you looking only at him as he utters his next few words.
“There’s no easy way to explain this that won’t make it seem indecent, but I can assure you that my intentions are pure,” he admits. “Have you ever heard of the term sugar baby?”
As soon as you hear the last of his words, you push yourself up and begin shaking your head furiously. “You want me to be your sugar baby?” You ask. The incredulous question has a blush pinching at your cheeks. “Are you nuts? I’m not that kind of girl. I’m not going to sleep with you even if you pay me━”
“Hear me out,” he says calmly and, for some odd reason, you pause. Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare as you stare him down.
“Fine,” You say stiffly. “Keep talking.”
“It’s a crazy idea, I know,” he says. “And, sure, typically sugar babies are used for sex but I would never force myself on you or force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to. That’s a promise I’ll never break. I just figured that we can keep the companionship aspect of the whole thing and that’s it. Nothing more than having a person by my side.”
“I’m sure you can find plenty of girls to take that role,” You muse aloud.
“Sure,” he admits sheepishly, “but I’m asking you because I want you to be the one and because I know you need this money more than anyone else.”
You fall silent as you study him. He pulls out his phone then and begins to scroll through it almost too nonchalantly but you don’t necessarily mind. You are much too busy pondering his offer.
“But you don’t even know me,” You say at last.
“Also true,” he says, glancing up at you. “I guess you could say that’s another part of the reason why I’m asking you because I wouldn’t mind getting to know you. I mean, I see you all the time at this bar. I would have loved to come up and talk to you at any given moment but you always seemed so caught up in your work. Now I know why.”
Another silence ensues and he watches as you bite nervously on your lower lip. You rake a hand through your hair and sigh.
“How about this?” he asks, shifting in his seat to sit up straighter. “We try it out at least once to test the waters for an upcoming event where you’re my date. If you like it and want to keep going, great. If you absolutely hate it and hate me, then you can forget all about me and that I ever asked you this and I’ll leave you alone. Deal?”
“How do I know you’re not planning my murder?”
Jungkook smirks wolfishly. “That would be bad for business, love, and neither me nor my company needs that sort of attention in the press. So… What do you say?”
“I don’t know. It’s just… a lot. I have to think about it.”
Jungkook nods. “That’s understandable. Here━”
He shifts in his seat and pulls his wallet from his jeans. With a flourish, he procures a business card and slides it onto the table. Then, he gestures for a pen and, once you hand him the one you fish out from the apron tied around your waist, he scribbles his own personal number down on the back. He looks up at you with an ever so pretty smile, his eyes twinkling.
“Call me on this number whenever you decide.”
He doesn’t stay much longer after that. When he does leave, he makes sure to leave you a tip. A considerable sum of $500 in the form of a cheque. He’s long gone by the time you register the amount on the slip of paper and your name scribbled down. When the shock is gone, you tell yourself you can’t possibly take the cheque. But he knows that either way, whether you accept the cheque and his offer or try to return the money to him, you’ll call him one way or another. You realize this only on your way home from the lounge and shake your head at his conniving way. If there was one thing you have learnt during your time at the lounge, rich men always get what they want.
You aren’t entirely too sure what makes you cave. Maybe it’s the fact that, when you return home and are greeted to the looming notice papers, you are reminded that you so desperately need the money, or the fact that Jungkook is as charming and attractive as people say. Maybe it is the fact that he is quite obviously devoting his time and attention on solely you. Perhaps once won’t hurt after all. Then, if he stays true to his word and pays you handsomely, just enough for your rent, you never have to see him again. So the next morning, after a great deal of pensive pacing around your apartment, it is with one final hefty sigh that you call Jungkook. He answers on the third ring with a cordial, “Hello?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this but fine. You have yourself a deal.”
Even without seeing his face, you can hear the smile in his voice, can see the way it must be tugging at his pink lips. “Ah, Y/N! Great!”
“What do you need me to do exactly?”
“Well, first thing’s first,” he says. “We need to set up some ground rules. First, I won’t try anything on you that you won’t like. Second, since this is technically still a job ━ and I know it’s going to sound ridiculous but stay with me ━ we need to be cautious about gaining romantic feelings for one another. It’ll just get in the way of everything, okay?”
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
“Good,” he says. “Then let’s jump right to it: I need you to be my date at this business dinner party that’s coming up. The logistics of the dinner party bore me. I know as much about it as you do, if I’m honest, but everyone ━ mostly my father ━ thinks it’ll be a good idea to bring a proper date. As if that’ll leave a good impression on these people we’re trying to win over. We’ll see about that.”
“When is it?” You ask.
“Three days from now.”
“As in Paris, France?”
Jungkook hums in agreement a little too calmly for your liking. Your jaw drops open in surprise and you begin to sputter for air, stammering over your words.
“Jungkook,” You say his name sternly, laughing at just how ridiculous this request is. “This whole thing started because I have no money. I’m getting kicked out of my apartment ━ or did you miss that? What makes you think I have the money for a ticket to Paris?”
Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to bursts out into boisterous laughter, and he continues to laugh and laugh as if this is the funniest thing he has heard yet. You are left staring blankly at your wall, completely frazzled and stunned.
“God, you’re cute,” he sighs at long last. “Baby girl, I don’t think you quite understand the concept of this but that’s okay. We can work on it. Here, look. Check your phone━”
As he says this, your phone chimes pleasantly to notify you of a new message. Pulling your phone away from your face, you see a new text from Jungkook’s number: a screenshot of an email of a bank purchase, one that he confirms out loud with his confident words even when you feel your hands shaking in overwhelming anticipation.
“I already bought you a ticket as we were speaking,” he says. “We leave Friday.”
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The concept is entirely too hard to wrap your mind around, even after you sleep on it.
It’s like a dream come true, a fairy tale that people can only ever hope for, and it had fallen so perfectly into your very lap in the form of Jungkook. You pack the next night for Paris (which will only be a two day trip, according to Jungkook), the excitement and nerves finally kicking in and making you jittery and grin from ear-to-ear as you rummage around your apartment. He picks you up early the next morning in a chauffeured BMW before you’re both driven to the airport to fly in two first class seats to Paris. The whole thing is ludicrous but you can’t seem to get enough ━ even with the way he seems to act like a total gentleman by holding the car door open for you and holding your hand as he helps you onto the plane. From what you gather, he is kind and gentle and spends the time talking to you on the long flight to Paris in an attempt to help soothe your nerves when he sees you toying anxiously with your hands. You learn about his father and his company and he learns about your family and school life.
When you arrive in Paris, the streets are suddenly dazzling with a magic you have never seen before. From the architecture to the gardens to the grand tower in the distance, everything seems like a whimsical dream and you, the poor undeserving spectator, can’t possibly contain your excitement. In the chauffeured drive to your hotel, Jungkook watches you with amused eyes and chuckles under his breath when you gawk out the window at the passing city. Your accommodations for the getaway have already been paid for and includes a stay at the Four Seasons Hotel. It is simply marvelous, a palace sculpted so divinely out of white stone and marble in the lobby. The people are friendly, both the employees and other occupants, greeting you with warm smiles and generous gestures, but the atmospheric prestige is slightly nerve-wrecking.
Jungkook pays for your room which is the luxurious Royal Suite, a room much larger than you truly need but, god, do you love it. There’s a spacious living room, a foyer, a marble fireplace and a dining table, the master bedroom accompanied by an all marble bathroom, and private terrace with a view of the surrounding city and the Eiffel tower in the near distance, so close it feels as if you can reach out and touch it. Everything is adorned in gold and ivory furnishing, white plush cushions and bedding with teal accents, white flowers and exceptional pieces of decorations. Jungkook is still with you when he guides you into the suite but he doesn’t speak and nor do you. Instead, he watches as you stare in awe at the overwhelmingly large room and the lavish paintings and furniture that are placed perfectly around, and the platter of macaroons and a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne in an ice bucket atop the glass coffee table. He watches even as you throw yourself to the terrace door, beaming outside at the beautiful view.
“Like it?” he asks, his lips curling upward faintly in an amused smile.
“Like it?” You repeat, astonished. You turn to face him and can’t contain the squeal that bubbles at your lips. You fling yourself down onto the plush sofa nearest you and sigh dreamily as you look up at the boy who is suppressing his chuckles. “I’m in love, Jungkook. I definitely don’t deserve this━”
“Don’t say that,” Jungkook frowns, interrupting you quickly. “Of course you deserve this. I’m glad you’re enjoying it so far. That’s what I want to hear.”
You push yourself up to sit on the couch and cross your legs beneath you. You gaze up at Jungkook, gnawing nervously on your lower lip. “I just feel like you could have found a better person to replace me. I mean, I don’t even know where to start with repaying you.”
“There’s no need to repay me,” Jungkook says. “That’s the whole point of this ordeal. All I want from you is to be my side when I need you. You owe no debt to me. Just keep enjoying yourself, yeah?”
You nod timidly and he smiles. He notices you shift in your seat to stand up once more and he swiftly holds out his hand for you in an ever gentleman-like way. You take it graciously and pull yourself up and then he does it again, lifting your twined hands to his lips to press a tender kiss to your knuckles. He keeps his lips pressed to your skin for a second too long and it has you blushing madly before he finally releases your hand once more.
“It’s late,” he says. “You should get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Set an early alarm, okay? I have something else for you that I want to show you before the dinner party.”
“Sounds like a plan,” You hum almost absentmindedly as your attention is suddenly averted back to the room that you can’t seem to get enough of.
“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he smiles.
He begins retreating back to the door of the room but stops when he hears you call his name, your voice so distant and faint, soft and gentle and loving, that it makes his heart skip a beat.
“Thank you for everything so far, Jungkook.”
Jungkook notices the irreplaceable smile on your face and it’s so genuine and heartwarming that it has the exact same smile mirroring on his face. He nods once more, understanding, before giving you a sly wink and walking out the door. You don’t stay awake much longer after that, the jitters and excitement eventually soothing into something soft that lulls you to sleep
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You aren’t entirely sure what Jungkook has planned for the next morning but you are most definitely not disappointed.
He comes by your room around 10:00 am, a light rap of his knuckles against the door signalling his arrival. He’s dressed casual today and it, for once during the duration of the time that you’ve been with him, doesn’t make you feel bad for wearing just as casual clothing. He takes you to a café just down the street from the hotel for breakfast and then he walks with you through the streets of Paris, past all the people and hectic life. When you finally arrive at your destination, your jaw drops open in complete unregistered shock because you realize he’s taking you shopping ━ and shopping not just anywhere but the Champs-Élysées and down Avenue Montaigne where all the leading couture designers are. He pulls you into a certain shop with designer and brand name formal wear, dresses and suits of all sorts of materials and lengths lining the walls, shelves, and dressing mannequins.
“I figured we could go shopping for something for you to wear tonight,” he says. “It’s your pick. See anything that catches your attention?”
You snort a bit ungracefully, your fingers running over the silky material of a scarlet red Valentino dress decorating a mannequin near you.
“Yeah, all of it,” You say, your fingers plucking the price tag of the dress and gawking at it. “But not for that price. I’d have to take out another loan from the bank if I’d want to buy this and I’m still paying off my tuition fees.”
Jungkook laughs lightly at your dry remarks and places his hand on the small of your back with such ease that it catches you by surprise.
“Baby girl,” he hums, and the small pet name is enough to make your heart flutter, “I’m buying it for you. Go ahead. Run wild in here. We can get a consultant to help you if you want.”
“I’m going to need more than a consultant to deal with all this,” You say. “It’s making my head spin. If I’m dreaming, please don’t pinch me.”
He smirks, giving you a shake of his head. “I can assure you that you aren’t dreaming. Go on. If you see anything you like, don’t be afraid to tell me. Today is all about you.”
And Jungkook doesn’t lie. Though it feels so wrong to be so spoiled and pampered, you find yourself basking in all of it ━ from the way Jungkook follows behind you as you study every piece of clothing and waits patiently as you try on dress after dress, to the way the employees that work there fawn over your body and the way you model the dress “just perfectly,” to the way they serve you bubbling champagne in crystal flute glasses. It’s all about you, and it’s never felt so good.
It doesn’t stop there. Jungkook takes you to shop after shop, boutique after boutique, until you find a dress that you take quite a liking to. It’s a floor length Alberta Ferretti velvet midnight blue, almost black, gown, the seams of which hugging your body and curves in all the right places. It’s a slightly off-the-shoulder dress, with a heart-shaped scoop neckline and a slit on one side of the dress that runs far up the smooth expanse of your leg to end mid-thigh. It’s the dress you pick because it’s the only dress that seems to garner such a unique reaction from Jungkook. It’s one where he forgets his words momentarily, gazing at you as if you were made of pure gold, because, holy shit, he’s never seen anything so beautiful before. He can’t speak whilst you model the dress for him and the consultant, twirling around and around in front of the mirrors to admire your own figure, because he doesn’t want to miss a single thing about just how gorgeous you look in it.
He doesn’t tell you but, when you decide on that dress, he couldn’t have been any happier.
Even after finding the dress, Jungkook still continues to take you shopping, promising to buy you any other article of clothing or piece of jewelry that catches your attention, though you try to tame your desires as you begin to feel a bit too spoiled. Jungkook doesn’t mind, of course. He never seems to mind. Eventually, after he takes you back to the hotel with all black Christian Louboutin ankle strap heels and a glittering Tiffany necklace and earrings for the dress, he leaves you alone to get ready for the dinner. When he meets you once more at your suite, it is later in the evening and the sun outside has just begun to set. He enters your room looking as if he has just walked out from a Renaissance painting or was sculpted by the Grecians himself in marble stone because of just how divine he looks. He’s adorned in yet another Armani suit, a dark charcoal that is almost ebony black, and his hair is combed and parted neatly to the side. There’s no need to even look at him to know he is already handsome, but something about that night makes his features more prominent.
You’re still in the bathroom when he does enter your room, calling out to you with a, “Y/N? You ready? We need to get going soon.”
He hears your voice carry from the bathroom, light and feathery, and though it is muffled, he can make it out to sound like, “Just a sec!”
So, Jungkook waits. He’s suddenly nervous as he does, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves and the hem of his suit jacket, when he hears the bathroom door click open. He hears the clinking of your heels as you walk towards him and then time seems to slow down in a sort of entirely cliche way because all he can focus on is you. And, god, you’re beautiful. If Jungkook is to you only a man-made beauty of Renaissance and Ancient Greek art, then you are to him made up of the stars and the moon and sun, carved divinely from the very hands of the universe itself and kissed all over by enchanting Mother Nature. You are radiant, you are natural, genuine, breathtaking, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. He is far too caught up with the way you look to even pay attention to your words, that only hit him in disoriented white noise.
“Jungkook?” You wave a hand in his face. “Can you zip me up?”
“What?” Jungkook seems to snap out of his daze and shakes his head suddenly. “Oh, right! Sorry, of course. Come here.”
You do, closing the distance between him and you with a wobbly flourish on your heels and turn your back to him. Jungkook gulps as he sees the zipper of the dress hanging low on your back. With cold hands, he begins to pull the zipper up, but he doesn’t seem to notice the way goosebumps run down your spine when you feel the ghost of his touch. When he’s done, you turn to face him once more and place your hands on your hips. Your hair and makeup are perfectly done and the glittering jewellery you wear all makes you look like such an elegant star.
“Well?” You ask. “What do you think? Is it too much? I don’t really know, to be honest. Or am I too underdressed? Oh god, I don’t know━”
“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook says abruptly.
Your cheeks are tinted pink at his compliment and you look down bashfully. He reaches out for your hand and you take it carefully only to have him raise your clasped palms above your head.
“Spin for me, love.”
You obediently follow his command, anxious under his watchful eyes. They drift down and up and then back down and up again to take in your full figure and he sighs under his breath. When you’re facing him again, there is a hint of a smile on his face and his pupils are glistening.
“Magnificent,” he breathes. “My goodness, baby girl, all eyes are going to be on you and only you tonight. I think I’m going to need to keep a watchful eye on you and make sure you don’t ditch me for another man before I can even get to know you better.”
You shake your head at him as he softly drops your hand from his. You inattentively reach out to grab at his already perfectly kempt tie, straightening it from beneath his collar.
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” You giggle. “I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, Jungkook.”
And Jungkook smiles.
Another chauffeured ride picks the two of you up at the hotel (this time a sleek black Mercedes) and drives you all the way to the Hotel Plaza Athénée, in which one of Jungkook’s associates have rented out the entire restaurant attached to it simply for the cause of their business dinner. Jungkook is the one who gets out of the car first and holds your door open, taking your hand to help you out and hooking arms with you as he guides you inside to the restaurant that you can only describe as a winter wonderland, made upon white furnishing and a magnificent crystal chandelier that resembles falling stars or snowflakes frozen in time.
The party isn’t nearly as terrible as you had thought. It begins awkwardly and you feel uncomfortable, shifting your weight from one heel to the other, and clinging desperately onto Jungkook, but the partygoers are friendly. They talk to you without a problem, introducing themselves with big smiles and welcoming you into their small lavish circle. The party continues on rather pleasantly, though you thank the glasses of red wine you are constantly consuming to not only help pass the time and soothe your nerves, but to distract the rich men and women around you long enough so you can breathe without feeling scrutinized.
By the time the night is coming to a close, you and Jungkook are equally as drunk off of expensive wine and champagne, and say a reasonable farewell to the other guests before leaving back to the hotel. You don’t leave Jungkook’s side, and perhaps that is because your intoxicated mind is suddenly buzzing with thoughts and your bloodstream is pumping with adrenaline because you are wide awake. You end up back in his room, both of you lounging out on the perfectly made bed, sharing yet another bottle of wine (that Jungkook had ordered from room service) between the two of you, giggling and chatting well into the night.
There is a moment where the late hour of the night and the alcohol seems to finally get to you and Jungkook; where the two of you are simply sprawled out on the bed in a comfortable silence. Your eyes begin to itch with the heavy need for sleep and you find yourself slipping in and out of your stream of consciousness, the fact that you are still confined to the tight dress you wear completely vanishing from your mind. It’s then that it seems to hit you - the whole ordeal with Jungkook and the fact that you are in Paris, wearing clothes that most certainly cost as much as your tuition - and it comes in waves of overwhelming and bursting joy and gratefulness.
“Jungkook,” You hum sleepily, catching the boy’s attention. “I’m serious when I say thank you for everything. It’s just so- so amazing and I want you to know that.”
“I know,” Jungkook says. “I believe you.”
You shift in your spot to stare up at him. He’s reclining beside you, a hand propped behind his head, and he is gazing up at the ceiling before looking over at you. He smiles softly.
“I just don’t want you to think you’re making a mistake by spending all this money on someone like me ━ as if I’m some sort of basket case,” You say. “So if you want to be brutally honest with me and never want to speak to me again after this, please just tell me now so I don’t have to wait to be rejected.”
He quirks a brow, examining your features as if to decipher your words.
“Is that what you think this is all about?” he asks finally. “The rich boy trying to do his moral duty by giving away his money? I’m helping you because I like you and because I don’t want to see someone as sweet and gentle as you being kicked out on the streets. I like you, all of you, and that’s not going to change. I’m not going anywhere.”
He finds you smiling, bright and cheery, your eyes twinkling beautifully. You do not know what compels you to move next ━ possibly the alcohol clouding your mind or the fact that Jungkook is sitting before you, as handsome as ever even at three in the morning ━ but then you are pushing yourself forward, leaning toward him and pressing your mouth against his for a sudden kiss. All you can focus on is the soft plump of his lips, laced with the taste of bittersweet wine and his intoxicating cologne, and it makes you pur with delight.
The action has Jungkook completely shocked but he doesn’t push you away. If anything, he begins to get carried away, but so do you. Suddenly, neither of you seem to be able to get enough of the taste of each other’s lips. You feel his tongue poke against your mouth, grazing your lower lip sensually, practically begging for entrance, and you part your mouth with ease, welcoming all of him. He kisses you slowly, yearning for more, but then the intensity of the kiss heats up. Your tongues dance together in a sloppy wet kiss, teeth clashing together in a desperate and needy fashion, lips smacking roughly against each other’s and igniting flames in every joint of your body. You react without thinking, wiggling around on the bed until you’re lifting yourself up and straddling his hips, sitting back on his thighs.
You’re grasping eagerly at him, tugging at the strands of hair at the nape of his neck, as his own hands come to rest upon your hips, pulling you against him. He parts from your lips then to pepper kisses down to your jawline and neck, where he licks a clean stripe upward. His lips wrap around the delicate skin there and he sucks, something that earns him a moan from yourself. You keen on him in content and jut your hips forward, silently urging him on for more. His breath hitches in his throat but, when you roll your hips against his once more, he moans into your neck.
“Baby girl,” he grunts. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to hold myself back.”
You smirk as you nip at his neck, making him growl. “Don’t hold back. I don’t want you to.”
Tingles run down his spine at the way your lips brush against his skin and he tugs you closer to him. He is so absorbed in the wholeness that is you that he can hardly grasp onto a reasonable thought. Especially not when you’re moaning against his neck with a slight whine of, “Fuck, Jungkook, I need you so bad.”
It takes all that he can in him to not cave at your touch and he shifts beneath your weight, gnawing on his lower lip. You can feel the bulge in his pants begin to brush against your inner thigh and the sensation against your throbbing core suddenly excites you. You roll your hips once more against him as you smash your mouth against his for a passionate kiss. It’s messy and eager and hot and you don’t plan on stopping. You think Jungkook has the same intentions with the way he is stifling his moans into the form of grunts and groans, his fingers digging tightly into your skin enough to make you gasp, but then his hold becomes ironclad and he stops your movements with ease.
“No, baby girl, we can’t,” he whispers against your lips.
You lean back on his lap and look at him curiously, admiring the way his lips are bruised red and the way his neck is suddenly marked raw. “Why not?”
Jungkook finds it hard to focus as you run your hands up his chest and back down, your fingertips dancing on the top of his belt. He grabs your hand then, twining your fingers together as he usually does and shaking his head gently.
“Not now,” he says. “I said I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want.”
“But I do want this,” You insist. You lean forward to kiss him once more, moaning in pleasure. “God, I want this so much.”
Jungkook smiles weakly. His hand comes up to grasp gingerly at your cheek and he makes you look at him with delicate gestures.
“You’re drunk. I’m drunk,” he says. “Sometimes people make the wrong decisions when they’re drunk. I don’t want you to regret this when you wake up in the morning, even if you insist right now that you won’t. Okay?”
You sit back on his lap once more, dumbfounded and, albeit, slightly let down, but there’s a part of you that is thankful for Jungkook’s sudden decision. You relent at once, somehow letting a reasonable thought in your mind tell you that Jungkook is right, and you nod.
“Sorry,” You sigh and then yawn. “You’re right. I’m just━ just tired.”
Jungkook nods understandingly, and pecks your forehead gently, a gesture that is enough to leave your head spinning. You push yourself off of him and plop onto the bed with a heavy exhale of air as soon as your head hits the pillow. Once it does, you find it incredibly hard to keep your eyes open and Jungkook smiles lightly. It’s the candid genuinity that makes Jungkook’s heart swell.
“Why don’t you sleep here?” he suggests. “I’ll sleep in your room for the night if you want, or on the couch━”
He’s already standing to his feet when you stop him.
“Wait, Jungkook,” You mumble. When you speak next, your voice is an involuntary drunk whine, “This dress is so uncomfortable━ I just━”
He sees you struggling to reach the zipper of the dress and chuckles under his breath.
“Let me help you, baby,” he hums, his hands brushing against yours as he thwarts your attempts. “Just rest.”
You begin to argue, sounding very similar to a needy child, but Jungkook simply hushes you. In your drunken tired state, you don’t seem nearly as flustered as Jungkook is as he unzips your dress very slowly and the feeling is so foreign that it has Jungkook’s nerves mingling with fear. He’s undressed a girl plenty of times and never once has he been this timid. He finds it hard to focus his eyes elsewhere when he has you shimmying out of the dress because, Jesus, did you have to wear black lace panties with a matching strapless bra? You’re nearly stripped bare before him and he gulps as his eyes flicker down fleetingly over your body and your feminine curves. Before he can linger any longer, he is grabbing one of his plain t-shirts that is hanging off the back of a nearby armchair and slips it over your head and body with such soothing motions and all Jungkook can focus on now is just how cute you look in his shirt, your lips parted slightly, and your hair a hectic mess.
By the time your head hits the pillow once more, Jungkook can hear your tiny snores, and he can’t bring himself to shake you awake to help you into a pair of his sweatpants. Instead, he reaches for the blankets below you and tosses it over your figure and you shift, pushing yourself onto your side and nuzzling your head further into the pillow. As he is straightening up and exhaling a breath of air, he feels a small tug at his hand. He looks down then only to see your hand grasping at his fingertips and hears you mumble, through slurring words and a curtain of hair that crowds your mouth, “Stay.”
Jungkook knows it’s a terrible idea. He knows, deep down, just how badly this is affecting him with all these strange nerves coming to light and with just how easily he seems to give in to your demand. He smiles tenderly once more and nods, despite sighing under his breath.
“Of course, baby,” he whispers. “I’ll stay right here. Go back to sleep, okay?”
You don’t reply, but he doesn’t necessarily need you to. The serenity that is your slumbering face is enough for him and so he changes into a comfortable shirt and sweatpants before slipping under the sheets with you where he falls asleep without trouble. When he wakes in the morning, he finds that your limbs are tangled messily with his and you are pressed closed to his chest, his own arm slung over your waist, and he decides, in that moment, that he made the right choice after all.
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You return from Paris feeling refreshed, strangely, and your heart yearning for another magical getaway to a foreign city.
As if buying you the items he did in Paris wasn’t enough, Jungkook gives you yet another check of money for your time and it is surely enough to make your heart stop altogether. You aren’t quite sure how he knows, but he gives you just the right money to pay for your rent, and then some. It doesn’t just surprise you, but your landlord is at a loss for words when he sees you hand him a sealed envelope with the money you still owe him that very Tuesday, though he doesn’t question it.
Your encounters with Jungkook don’t stop there.
For some reason, you convince yourself to stay with the deal a little longer (perhaps a little selfishly, though you do admit you enjoy the company of Jungkook), but you have also convinced yourself that he’ll disappear, vanish without a trace, after returning from Paris. Fortunately, he doesn’t disappear, and he doesn’t act as if your relationship with him is simply just a job. You find him opening up to you, talking to you as a friend would, and you, in turn, find yourself falling more and more under his charm. Sometimes, he needs you for important business dinners or weddings or polo matches and other gatherings he’s invited to and, each time you go, he pays you fully in return. He always tells you such social events make these businessmen who they are, as if it were all one elaborate game. Other times, he invites you to do the simplest of tasks with him. When it first happens, only a week or two after Paris, you’re lounging in a relaxing bath late one Friday evening and you receive a text from the boy that simply says something along the lines of, “Are you busy? I could really use you right now. Come over if you can.”
Then, shortly after, he sends you another message that asks you, simply, to bring a swimsuit if you have one. The ambiguity and peculiarity of his message, as well as the fear of making sure you don’t disappoint him (but also, quite possibly, the chance to just see him), makes you scurry out of your bath and rush to get changed before chasing out the door. You hadn’t been to his home before then but he texts you his address after you reply that you are on your way and it doesn’t come as a surprise when you see he lives in one of the fancier parts of downtown. The address he gives you leads you straight to a high-rise complex in Midtown Manhattan. The subtly grand lobby is still overwhelming and the doorman and concierge greet you formally as you walk by. Jungkook’s abode, naturally, is the luxury penthouse located at the very top of the building and, walking past the other employees and residents to reach the elevator, makes you feel ashamed of the tight yoga pants and oversized shirt you wear (though no one is actually looking).
You wait anxiously in the elevator and walk the short distance to his entrance as soon as the elevator doors slide open to his floor. Earlier he had sent you a text that instructed you to just simply walk in and so you cautiously press open the front door of the penthouse. It swings wide open and your jaw drops at the stunning view before you. From what you can see, there are two floors to the penthouse, and the main floor has the very outer wall made of ceiling-to-floor glass window panes that look down onto the bustling city below. It is spacious and lavishly furnished and all you know is that your tiny apartment pales in comparison to this. You take a step inside and let the door shut behind you and, as soon as it clicks into place, a chirp of a bark makes you jump. Dashing straight out of a room and charging straight for you is a small white dog, yapping along the way at the newcomer that is you. Your face instantly lights up at the sight and, as the dog begins jumping and barking by your feet, you bend over to scoop him up in your arms, scratching just behind his ears.
“And who are you, cutie?” You coo. “How could Jungkook keep someone like you a secret from me?”
The dog twists in your hold and begins licking at your chin, earning an eruption of giggles from you as you try and gently push him away.
“I see you’ve met Gureum.”
Your head snaps up at the sound of Jungkook’s voice.  He’s standing near a corner he had just turned, leaning casually against the wall. The grin on his face is undeniably strong as he watches you cradle his dog in your arms. He pushes himself off the wall and takes leisurely strides towards you.
“He’s been by my side ever since I was a teen,” he says. “He’s a pretty loyal dog, y’know, and he and I have this special bond going on so I just needed to make sure you were worthy enough to be introduced to him, otherwise I would have told you sooner.”
You burst out into laughter and shake your head. “Well, I’m glad I passed the test and was worthy enough to meet him. Gureum, hm?” You pause and glance back down at the dog. “It means cloud, right? A cute name for a cute pup. I think we’ll get along just fine.”
You plant a kiss on Gureum’s face and then place him down on the ground where he immediately darts off to grab a toy before tottering back. You straighten up to look at Jungkook and gesture around his home.
“Nice place you got here,” You say. “Need a roommate?”
“You want to live together already?” he teases. “You have to at least let me take you out on a few more dates before we get that serious.”
You chuckle lightly and the sound is so silvery and sweet that it makes Jungkook’s heart sing. He is watching you with admiration as you kick off your shoes and begin walking further into his apartment.
“So, what did you want from me tonight?” You asked. “Your text seemed a little urgent.”
“Oh, right,” Jungkook says. He begins following after you and shrugs. “Well, I was going to ask you if you could be my date for an upcoming event. It’s a charity gala ball that my parents and the company will be endorsing in a few months time. It’s fairly a big deal and my father thinks it’ll be good for publicity, again, if I have a proper date by my side since I’ll be hosting the night of the gala and saying a speech.”
“Of course I’ll come with you,” You say. “But did you really have to tell me to come all the way here just to say that?”
Jungkook bursts out into laughter. “I know I could have done that over the phone but, truthfully, I really just wanted to spend a little more time with you. Now that our business talk is out of the way, how does a pizza and movie night sound to you?”
He flings himself down onto the couch nearby and lounges out on it, staring up at you with a look of anticipation. You can’t help but quirk a brow, biting your lower lip to hide the smile that threatens to paint your face.
“You just wanted to spend time with me?” You echo. “So you called me over for pizza and a movie?”
Jungkook nods, beaming up at you. “What do you say?”
“I’ll stay only if you let me have first pick of the movie.”
He pushes himself up to sit (at which point, Gureum takes the liberty of jumping up to sit in his owner’s lap and Jungkook casually threads his fingers through the dog’s fur) and grins, “You can pick every movie we watch.”
“Well, then, if that’s the case━” You plop down next to him on the couch and wiggle around until you’re comfortably positioned. “A pizza and movie night sounds absolutely divine.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I already ordered the pizza while you were on your way here.”
You throw your head back and moan a bit too excessively but it only makes Jungkook laugh. “You spoil me rotten, you know that?”
He shrugs sheepishly and shoots you a wink that has your heart leaping in your chest. He leans in close with a wicked smirk on his face and hums, “Only the best for my baby girl. And, of course while you’re here, we can take a dip in the pool.”
“So that’s what you meant by the cryptic swimsuit text,” You giggle. “I’d love to go for a swim. This apartment’s pool must be amazing.”
“Oh, yes, that one is quite spectacular but I was thinking we could stay within the comfort of my home.”
He says this so simply that you almost don’t register his words. Then it seems to dawn on you the meaning behind his words and you are gawking in pure amazement. “Are you telling me you have a pool in your penthouse?”
Jungkook smirks humorously. “Is it too much?”
You can’t help but shake your head at the cocky tone that twines with his words. A small, bemused thought pops into your head that begs the question just what have you gotten yourself into? A month ago, you would have never been able to imagine living such a life and yet here you are, as Jungkook so graciously had invited you into his own personal world.
Soon enough, you’re standing by the edge of the pool in Jungkook’s home ━ and, yes, he really does have his own personal pool. Tucked away on the second floor of his penthouse, high above the city of New York, like his own perfect little oasis. When you see it, when you’re dressed in nothing but a red bikini standing on the edge of the pool, it feels like a dream. The buildings of Manhattan tower around the penthouse, dazzling with lit windows that shine their soft glow onto the rippling surface of the pool. Somewhere far below you can hear the sound of the city breathing, living; of a distant wailing siren and the squeal of a tire and a blaring horn. And, when you look above, it feels as if you’re so close to the sky that you could reach out and touch the hiding stars.
Jungkook, who is behind you and watching the look of awe paint your face, will smile to himself and then he will give you one playful nudge that pushes you into the pool with a gratifying splash and a yelp of startle on your part that you know will fade into nothing to the people far down below when you’re up this high. He’ll join you in the pool and you’ll sit with him in the serene space, sipping on a bottle of wine and enjoying the pizza he had ordered.
Up there, so high above Manhattan, it feels as if you have the whole world in the palm of your hand and you tell yourself that if this really is a dream, you never want to wake up from it.
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After that night, it isn’t uncommon for Jungkook to text or call you with equally vague messages, asking you to come over to this apartment only to embark on the utmost mundane things. Once, he calls you asking for your help and, when you rush to his apartment, he is debating which flavour ice cream he should bring out for yet another movie night you spend together. Another time, he calls you to accompany him on his walk with Gureum, or to help him buy groceries, or be his extra food critic when he decides to order takeout from a new restaurant.
Each time he calls or texts you, each time he asks you to rush over only for something minor, he ends up paying you in cheques and still spoils you with “little” gifts every now and then, like a watch one night, a pair of diamond earrings another, a shirt you had been eyeing at the store one day when he and you had passed by a boutique while walking Gureum. Though the money and gifts are, by no means, any less valuable or less cherished than they already are by you, your sudden time alone with Jungkook becomes something much more than just material pleasure. When it’s just you and him, curled up next to one another on his couch as you watch the flickering images of the movie play out before you, whether basking in the silence or laughing together until you cry, those moments become precious and sacred and you find yourself enjoying his company much more than his money or gifts.
Your relationship with him carries on like this for weeks upon weeks, until three months seem to pass, though it certainly doesn’t feel like it at all (especially when you are consumed with finishing school). The money he gives you, as well as the money you earn from both jobs you still work, is enough for you to keep paying your rent and your loans off, long after you’ve graduated from school (another celebration that Jungkook so graciously attends and earns strange looks from your friends and family when they see just how close the two of you are). As a gift for your graduation, Jungkook calls you late one evening when you are relaxing in a warm bubble bath. When you answer the call, cradling your phone between your ear and shoulder, he greets you with, “How do you feel about Italy?”
You quirk a brow. “It’s beautiful. I’ve always wanted to go there. Why are you asking?”
“Well, yes, it is quite beautiful,” he says. “But how do you feel about going to Italy? Say, tomorrow morning?”
You nearly drop your phone into the bath when you register his question. You sit up rather quickly, as if that will help steady you against the tremendous question. “Is it for a business thing?”
“Just an us thing,” he says. “To celebrate your graduation.”
He already knows your answer, as do you. Yet you still sputter over your words and then, with a sheepishly large smile plastered on your face, exclaim your approval of the spontaneous trip.
In the morning, Jungkook will come to pick you up in yet another chauffeured drive, much like it had been for the trip to Paris. This time he decides to take you to the Amalfi Coast, a coastal town in southern Italy. You land in Naples and rent a car from the airport (a Lamborghini, to be exact) which Jungkook and you take turns driving with the roof down, the wind in your hair. The narrow winding roads on the sides of the coastal cliff seem to be no match for the exhilarating speed of the car and much of the drive is spent soaking up the rays of the warm sun. The quaint town of the Amalfi Coast is built upon the sides of the steep cliff with small alleyways, cobblestoned streets, blossoming lemon trees, and colourful buildings that spiral down, down, down, to the rocky shores of the beach and the sparkling cerulean waters of the sea. The villa Jungkook rents has a luxurious view of the sea. It’s all shimmering white and ivory and cobalt blue detailings, all culminating in one magnificently breathtaking oasis.
The first day in the town is spent on the beach, and the evening is spent wandering about the streets with you in a sheer white and floral Zimmermann sundress courtesy of Jungkook, sipping on limoncello and eating dinner at an outdoor restaurant as the bright sky fades to night. The streets are just as lively as ever with tourists and distant music, the town glowing softly with its burning lights and candles against the starry sky, and everything is simply perfect. Whimsical. The next day is spent with Jungkook’s friends. You’ve seen them before in passing at other social events you have accompanied with Jungkook and, unbeknownst to you at the time, at the lounge when Jungkook and his friend had stumbled upon your talk with your manager. You come to learn that this same friend is Park Jimin, a wealthy man not much older than Jungkook himself, who is built upon old money and whose family owns a chain of successful global hotels and resorts. Jimin invites the pair of you to a day on his yacht out at sea with a few of his other closest friends.
The yacht itself is quite a spectacle, with three floors to it and a personal pool located on the deck, as well as a bar and a lounge area. You spend most of your time sipping on piña coladas and sunbathing in the glittering sun atop the deck, adorned in a Proenza Schouler black swimsuit and a wide-brimmed sun hat. Jungkook’s friends, you come to find, aren’t as insouciant as Jungkook himself but also aren’t as arrogant as the customers you have encountered at your work at the lounge back in Manhattan. Whatever the case, they are nice enough to invite you into their group and make certain you feel as welcome as you can. When Jimin decides to take the cabin cruiser for a spin around the sea, you stand at the bow of the deck, your hands clasped tightly on the back of your hat so as to keep it from flying away, and laugh spritely as Jimin speeds around in wide circles with the sea’s mist dusting across your face.
At some point, the cabin cruiser comes to a halt, softly rocking against the gentle current of the sea. Jimin is the first one to jump into the water, followed by yourself, and a few other of their friends. When Jungkook joins you in the shimmering ethereal blue waters, the smile on your face is irreplaceable and one that makes a similar grin form on his face. The cool water is a relief against your skin which had, up until that point, been warm with the sticky heat of the day. Jungkook is by your side in an instant, just a short distance away from the cruiser and his other friends. By the time he joins you, you’re positively beaming, bursting with joy, and entirely overwhelmed with appreciation for the kindness of Jungkook and the beauty of Italy.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asks humorously. Of course he doesn’t need an answer ━ not when you are so clearly content and at peace.
“Jungkook,” You sigh his name dreamily. “I’ve never been happier.”
He smiles gingerly. “I believe you.”
“I still don’t want you to think you’re making a mistake by spending all this money on someone like me,” You say.
He quirks a brow, examining your features as if to decipher your words, and squints past the sun.
“That’s still what you think?” he asks finally. “That I regret all the time we’ve been spending together? Because you’d be wrong. When I first asked you about all of this, I did it because I wanted to help you, because I like you. And all our time spent together since then… It’s been incredible.”
“You really mean that?” You ask timidly.
“Of course I do,” he says. “Look, when I’m with you, things feel different.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Good. Definitely good.”
You catch his gaze on you and, despite all the money and glory he has to his name, he looks at you unlike he has looked to anything else before. As if you’re worth far more than all the gold jewelry and diamonds and pretty coastal towns and designer clothes he has ever seen. As if you’re the whole world and more, right in front of him, under the glittering Italian sun. His eyes then flicker from yours, down to your lips, and you certainly don’t miss it. There’s a tiny voice in the back of your mind that begs you desperately to kiss him. Maybe he’s feeling the same way because, slowly, your faces inch towards one another.
He comes so close, in fact, that you can feel his breath fanning against your neck, can smell the sea’s salt on his skin and the faded scent of his cologne. You come so close to one another that it, perhaps, becomes a little too dangerous. Before anything can happen, Jimin is calling out to the two of you and you both instantly freeze. Jungkook laughs almost sheepishly and you can’t help but join in. Still, even as the day unfolds and you become distracted with every other beautiful detail of the Amalfi Coast, you can’t help but wonder what would have happened had you and Jungkook not been interrupted by Jimin.
And, by the end of the night when you’ve both tucked in for the night in the villa, the realization dawns on you that you, quite possibly, are falling in love with Jungkook.
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Just when you believe things are going impeccably well, the bitterness of reality finally seems to settle in.
A few weeks after your stay in Italy, Jimin invites both Jungkook and you to a party he is hosting at his family hotel in Seoul. Most of the night unfurls smoothly, with you adorned magnificently in a cream-coloured Alexander Wang slip dress and Jungkook in a Saint Laurent dress shirt, lounging by the bar near the lobby of the hotel and sipping on martinis. Jimin’s hotel is full of a type of grandeur that resembles a palace with its elegant ornate decorations and ebony wood carvings. Seoul itself is as spectacular as ever, the metropolis towering around you and all illuminated by the city’s lights. Yet all of this and Jungkook still focuses only on you, his voice low and charming over the soft thump of music, and his eyes twinkling mischievously.
Some time during the night, Jimin begins chatting to you and Jungkook disappears. At first he is chatting to an old confidant but, when you turn to look at him the next time, you find him with another girl at the bar, seemingly flirting with her. Whatever the case, they appear to be rather cozy with one another, and though you know you have no warrant to be jealous, it still creeps upon you without warning and sabotages your night. You try to avert your attention, try to chat with Jungkook’s friends, and flirt with other rich entrepreneurs but nothing seems to distract you long enough ━ not until Jimin mentions something that grabs your attention.
“You know,” he muses pensively. He pauses to take a sip of his cognac and then says, “I’ll admit: I’m surprised you and Jungkook have lasted so long.”
“What do you mean?” You ask.
“Well, it’s not like you two are dating, right?” When you continue to stare up at Jimin with a dumbfounded expression, he continues. “The only reason Jungkook confronted you in the first place was because his parents were pissed at him. Something about him tarnishing their name by his ‘free’ lifestyle, if you will. They got mad at him and his rampaging bachelor ways, having flings with random strangers every other weekend in a foreign city. His parents are really stuck in their old-school mentality; they just don’t want Jungkook to drag the wrong kind of people into the family money and business. They would have even gone so far as to kick him from being CEO of their company.”
“They what?”
“Oh, yeah,” Jimin says. “Didn’t he tell you? That’s partly what the charity gala is for. His father doesn’t think Jungkook will be able to settle down anytime soon. He’s been under a lot of scrutiny. Jungkook was considerably worried there for a moment; I’ve never seen him like that before. I suggested he fall from the limelight for a bit but he thought he could fix all of this. I guess that’s where you came in. I didn’t think Jungkook would last long constantly being tied down but he’s certainly proved me wrong.”
He chuckles then, as if this whole thing was quite amusing to him. Though you aren’t quite sure how to react. You knew Jungkook wanted you to be his date at important social events for good publicity, but it never dawned on you that he could only be using you for his own sake. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe Jungkook had simply forgotten to tell you, but that just felt as if you are uselessly grasping at excuses. Either way, it slowly begins to dawn on you the whole ordeal of your relationship with Jungkook and, suddenly, you feel used.
You tell yourself Jimin’s words shouldn’t have meant anything anyway because it’s not as if you and Jungkook are dating but you can’t deny the fact that they leave a lasting impression on you. But that’s how it had all started, hadn’t it? Or maybe not. Jungkook had approached you on the basis of needing your company, but he had made it sound so simple ━ as if it was you who needed the help. And you can’t deny the hope you had felt building within you. Had everything Jungkook said to you been a lie? Every pretty word, telling you how great he had claimed it felt to be with you? Jimin’s words all culminate in one prominent thought which is that maybe Jungkook only really needed you long enough for the charity ball, simply so he could earn back his father’s trust and secure his spot in the company.
Whether it was one too many martinis or strawberry daiquiris or the lavish designer dress that suddenly feels too constricting on your body or the way Jungkook was so carelessly flirting with another girl, much like he had done before in Paris and even in Italy, you need to escape. Everything just seems so suffocating and ridiculous. But moreover, you are reminded by the sobering fact that this lifestyle you have suddenly surrounded yourself with is one you have mocked before. It’s one you have claimed you would never have the privilege of understanding, one that you never really yearned to be a part of if it was anything like the wealthy folk who inhabited the bar lounge you work at.
So, you decide to leave.
You aren’t quite certain your abrupt decision will do any good but suddenly all you crave is the comfort of your own home, however much it may pale in comparison to villas in Italy and luxurious hotels in Seoul. You don’t bother telling Jungkook. Instead, you send him a single text that warns him of your departure and inform Jimin who, in his drunken bliss, may or may not remember to tell Jungkook.
And somehow, after you are able to secure a flight back to New York within a few hours and are seated aboard the plane, you’re able to convince yourself that maybe Jungkook wouldn’t miss you anyway.
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Out of your own stubborn will, you begin to ignore Jungkook.
The day after you return to New York, you are greeted by a voicemail from Jungkook who asks curiously why you left. Then, when you don’t respond to that, he decides to send you various texts throughout the week that continue to ask if anything happened, if you’re doing okay, if you’re mad at him. At some point he sends you a text asking if you can come to his place and you decide to respond with a short and cold text simply saying you’re too busy. You don’t know exactly what you expect from pushing Jungkook away. Maybe you had imagined he would forget you altogether and you could casually slip back into the real world that you had lived before meeting Jungkook. Of course that isn’t the case. Jungkook knows something is wrong; he knows that you’re angry but he has no means of knowing why you’re mad at him. Yet he refuses to stop trying to contact you.
It starts with a grand bouquet of saffron crocuses surrounded by Casablanca lilies and gardenias. It first appears at the bar lounge, a massive and beautiful arrangement of flowers encased in a crystal clear vase taking up most of the space of the bar counter which doesn’t exactly please Namjoon. A single card is tucked amongst the petals of the flowers, your name printed in pretty script. It doesn’t say who it’s from but you don’t need to know the name to understand. You decide to leave it at the bar, much to Namjoon’s dismay. The next week, you answer a knock at your door and are greeted to a personal delivery of a small neatly wrapped package that is revealed to be a rose gold Cartier bracelet encrusted with diamonds. You tell the delivery man at the door to return it. The week after that, you answer the front door once more and come face to face with delivery men placing a dozen bouquets of red roses around your apartment. This time you are forced to keep them, and stare at them distantly as they overwhelm your small kitchen in a wild secret garden.
The same week of the gift of the plethora of roses is also the same week of Jungkook’s charity gala. You try to convince yourself to stay home but you can’t not go. Even if Jungkook was possibly using you to his own benefit, it would be a shame if your missing self was indirectly one of the factors that caused Jungkook’s father to change his mind. Besides, it is the least you can do for the man after he had showered you with attention and materialistic pleasure, even if none of it really mattered to him. Your invitation to the gala still stands, that much you know, and the dress Jungkook had bought for you weeks ago is still hanging on the back of your bedroom door. It is a long, A-line Zuhair Murad gown with a plunging neckline, and the tulle and fabric of which is made of a light blush colour. It’s encrusted with sparkling swarovskis where they cluster mostly at the bodice and then trail along the rest of the skirt like falling stars. It’s a breathtaking, elegant piece, and you tell yourself that it is the sole reason why you ultimately decide to go to the gala because it really would be a shame to never wear the dress out.
When you finally do arrive at the gala, it is at Pier 15 in Lower Manhattan. The party itself is on a grand luxury yacht and the duration of the gala is meant to take place sailing around the harbor once night has fallen. As it rests docked by the pier, the yacht is already crowded with various elites and socialites and certain celebrities as the stragglers still trickle in. The party is well on its way, with the guests mingling with one another, enjoying hor d’oeuvres and champagne out of crystal flute glasses, as a live band, somewhere, plays smooth jazz music. You spot Jungkook before he notices you, looking handsome in another Armani suit, standing at the front of the bow of the deck and greeting newcomers. Beside him stands an older woman and man dressed impeccably, both of whom share a striking resemblance to Jungkook. Though you have never met them before, you assume they are his parents. You approach them shyly, with your back straight and your head held high. Jungkook notices you first and his eyes widen in surprise, his jaw unhinging open (partly because it feels as if he hasn’t seen you in months, but mostly because of how divine you look).
“Y/N!” Your name slips past Jungkook’s mouth in an exclamation before he can bite it back. He moves forward as if preparing to walk up to you but he has to hold himself back. He doesn’t miss the way you desperately try to avoid his stare, or the way you stand rigidly beside him.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” You apologize, though you say it mostly for the act you are putting on for his parents. “I got caught up at work and the traffic was horrid.”
“Oh, that’s certainly alright,” The woman says brightly. “You must be Y/N.”
“We’ve heard plenty about you from our son,” The man chuckles to himself. “I was wondering when we would have the pleasure of meeting you.”
Jungkook, who is still in a state of shock, opens and clamps his mouth shut repeatedly, frantically trying to grasp onto a proper train of thought. Eventually, he snaps from his daze and nods towards you. For the sake of the act, he places his hand on your back between your shoulder blades rather than the small of your back he had grown quite acquainted with.
“Mom, dad, meet Y/N,” he introduces. “Y/N, meet my parents.”
You shake their hands in a firm grip and nod politely, tight-lipped, when they introduce their names to you. Soon after, when the sun has dipped below the horizon, the boat takes off on its slow journey around the harbor and the party begins. While Jungkook mingles with his guests, you saunter off to the bar where you concede you will be spending most of your night. A few of Jungkook’s friends are there whom you remember from Italy and so you chat with them if only to pass the time. Fortunately Jungkook is much too busy to find a moment to come up to you. In fact, the only time you are around Jungkook is when he begins his speech to the partygoers at the gala on the deck of the ship. A handful of hours later, the boat docks by the pier once more and, while the party continues to unfurl within the yacht, you decide to venture home.
You have only made it off the yacht and onto the pier when you are forced to come to an abrupt halt. Because there, rushing off the ramp connected to the deck, and hopping down onto the pier in a hurry to catch you with a call of your name, is Jungkook. Truthfully, you had been hoping to escape the party without him noticing; meanwhile, Jungkook, who had been subject to a dull conversation about stocks with an old business partner of his father’s, was hoping he would find you once he managed to break free from the party. Yet now that he has you within his grasps, his words fall short. He stares at you curiously, perhaps a little confused as his brows knit together at the sight of you. There’s a dozen things he wants to ask you, and a dozen more things he wants to tell you, but he can’t.
Instead, he asks, “Where are you going?”
“Home,” You reply. Behind Jungkook, the ensuing party can be heard ━ an amass of sound ranging from regal laughter to soft music. Behind you, and out towards the city, you can hear the sound of passing citizens and tourists, the whizzing of cars and the wailing of a siren. “You don’t need me anymore. Your parents are gone. They looked pleased. You can clearly go have fun now. Maybe go back to that girl who was eyeing you at the bar.”
Jungkook, staring at you with a dumbfounded expression, asks the first thing that pops into his mind that seems the most logical. “Have you been drinking?”
You simply shake your head, though Jungkook has an unnerving feeling that it is more of an act of scrutiny towards him and not an answer to his question. It’s Jungkook’s fault anyway; he wants to talk to you, but he can’t seem to formulate his thoughts into words.
“Just go back to the party, Jungkook,” You sigh.
“I don’t want to,” he says with a frown. He takes a step towards you and pauses. “I want to stay with you.”
When you don’t respond, he pushes himself forward once more. He doesn’t stop until he is standing right before you, where he so very carefully takes your right hand in his. It’s a small action but it’s enough to make your heart swoon. He glances up, makes sure he catches your wandering stare with his.
“Come home with me,” he says. “Whatever’s happening… We can talk it out. Don’t you want to?”
You do. You want to tell him the truth but your stubborn mind warns you to be wary and the small fact that you feel as if you can’t trust Jungkook anymore is enough to make you wince. Perhaps he can sense your hesitation, or notices the way you flinch because he squeezes your hand just enough. And maybe it’s the way his deep carob eyes pour deeply into yours, or the proximity between your two beating hearts, or the way he holds your hand that makes you cave. You tell yourself, much like you had at the start of all this, that just once more wouldn’t hurt. That maybe he’ll finally answer all your questions or that maybe you’ll learn to forget everything you had heard and let Jungkook spoil you with riches.
So, when you nod your confirmation to Jungkook, you not only startle him, but yourself too. He abandons his dwindling party on the fancy yacht for you. He calls for a chauffeur and drives with you in a tense silence back to his home. The perverse silence follows you even as you clamber out of the car, into the apartment’s lobby, and during the elevator ride to the penthouse. When you finally make it to his home, you are disappointed to feel nothing. You don’t know how long you’re in his apartment for, though it really isn’t for that long.
You’ve kicked off your heels and have wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room just as he’s shed his suit jacket and tossed it somewhere on one of the couches. He asks if you want something to drink ━ such a mundane question for your relationship with Jungkook, but what else could he ask you at a time like this? He just wants to know what has been plaguing your mind long enough to drive yourself away from him ━ but you only shake your head. Your arms are wound protectively over your chest and, as you eye the illuminated city down below, you are overcome with the feeling of shame and embarrassment. And all because of one sole thought that reminds you: you don’t belong here. Here in this luxurious dress, here in this luxurious penthouse, here with such a luxurious man.
As if that is the cataclystic thought you need, you turn around on one pointed heel and shake your head. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come here tonight. This was a mistake.”
You’re halfway to the door when Jungkook stops you by speaking up.
“Do you mean coming here tonight was a mistake?” he asks. “Or are you really trying to tell me that you think we’re a mistake?”
“There isn’t even a we,” You retort. When you turn to face him, his brows are pinched together in a scowl.
“What has been up with you lately?” he asks. Though his words may sound hostile, his voice is a gentle plea. “You’re mad, aren’t you? Well, what did I do?”
When you don’t respond, he decides to continue on.
“Didn’t you get my gifts?” he asks. “They were the only way I could reach you to apologize. Did you not like them? Because if that’s the case, just say the word, and I’ll buy you anything you want. Just━”
“That’s not it, Jungkook.”
“Then what is it?” His words are a little more vexed than usual. When he realizes this, he pauses and takes a deep breath. Then, running a hand through his perfectly parted hair, he continues on. “I can’t know what the problem is when you won’t tell me what’s bothering you ━ when you keep pushing me away. But I’m trying my hardest to please you. I just need you to talk to me.”
“So you thought the gifts would work?” You ask. When your eyes settle on him, they’re narrowed into a glare. “Did you━ what? Think you could just buy my attention back? Or buy my love? I’m sorry if it came across that way but I’m not another one of your cheap fucks. I’m not going to come crawling back to you just for your money. I just━ I’ve had enough of all of this! It’s so stupid! I feel so ridiculous.”
You raise your hands in the air in a sign of defeat, though really you are bitterly gesturing to the pretty dress adorning your curves and sigh. Cautiously, Jungkook takes another step towards you. “Y/N, please just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Did you even really care about me?”
The question is so abrupt that it catches him off guard. He takes a moment to respond, noting the way you wrap your arms protectively over your chest.
“What are you talking about?” he asks wearily.
“This whole deal between us,” You say. “You just needed a perfect cover so you could impress your parents, right? Secure your spot as CEO so you wouldn’t lose all your money? And might as well get some bonus points for deciding to ‘settle’ down with a poor girl while you’re at it, right? Was that all that I was to you? A cover and the charity case?”
You assume by the way his eyes widen with apprehension and the way his lips are pulled in a thin line that you must be right. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, his words stammering in his mind.
“How did you know?” he asks.
“So it’s true?” You ask sourly.
“No. I mean, yes. It’s half true,” he says. Then he shakes his head sullenly. “It was Jimin who told you, wasn’t it?”
“What does it matter?” You retort. “The point is, I’m right. You were just using me the whole time. I bet, on all these fancy excursions you took me on, you and your friends would laugh about it and me. You know, I knew you were rich but I didn’t take you for an asshole too.”
“No!” he exhales sharply, as if he has just felt a horrendous pang of pain in his chest. “I mean, you’re right about my parents and about the CEO position, but everything else is wrong.”
Clearly, you don’t look amused. Your patience is wearing thin, and the way you stare up at him as if he is some stranger altogether makes his chest and throat swell.
“I made a mistake. I’m sorry, okay? I should have told you from the beginning,” he sighs. “They were mad at me ━ my parents. They thought I wasn’t taking the position as CEO seriously enough and they would have taken it away from me. But it wasn’t the fear of losing the money that made me feel ashamed of it all. It was the fact that I had disappointed my parents, and I wanted to make things right. I wanted to show them I was responsible enough to take on the company. I wanted them to trust me.”
“So you had to use me?”
“No!” he shakes his head furiously. “Look… All the business dinners and social events I took you to over these past few months ━ I’d have gone to them all even if you weren’t by my side. The first dinner in Paris I took you to ━ I told you I needed a date to impress those associates and it worked. My parents heard about how well it went and they kept praising you, even though they hadn’t met you. For once they didn’t look so disappointed with me. Having you by my side was just a plus. I wasn’t really using you; you just came at the right time so we could both benefit from this deal between us. But when I first approached you at the lounge, it wasn’t about all of this. It was about you. Because I had seen you there before and because I overheard how you were scared you would get kicked out of your apartment. I wanted to help you because I like you, not because I thought you were a charity case or whatever you think it was. It was because I genuinely wanted to get closer to you. And what I said to you in Italy? I meant it. I meant everything.”
You’re gnawing on your lower lip anxiously, watching him carefully. You haven’t realized that he has slowly been inching closer to you until then. You ask quietly, maybe a little tiredly, “But what do I really mean to you, Jungkook? Pretty words mean one thing but… It’s just been months since this whole thing started and nothing’s ever happened between us and I always see you with pretty girls but I can’t be the only one feeling different. I mean, even in Italy ━ you can’t tell me we weren’t going to kiss but then you turned away and━”
You’re cut off abruptly with a kiss on your mouth, his mouth silencing your own mouth with an unbreakable seam of your lips. It catches you completely off guard but it reminds you so suddenly of all your harbored feelings towards him. The kiss is hard, fast, feverish and it happens all at once that you barely have time to register anything else before you’re parting from with him a loud pop! of your lips. You’re gawking up at him with wide eyes and an ajar mouth, lips swollen red, and breathing fast when a sudden realization dawns on you. All the magic you had felt in Paris and Italy, the dreamlike state of mind you had endured these past few months ━ most of it had been because of Jungkook. Because when you’re around Jungkook, no matter the lavish place or foreign city or pretty beach, everything feels, simply, like magic. Jungkook’s reaction is similar to yours but then it softens into something more cordial. His eyes sweep over your face softly and his hand comes up to rest gingerly upon your cheek.
“You mean the world to me,” he whispers. “And I mean that. I haven’t felt this different in such a long time. These past few months that we’ve spent together, whether it being at boring dinner parties or walking Gureum or having a movie night, it’s meant so much to me. You mean so much to me. No one else matters. No one else compares to you. Fancy cars and Italy and Paris can’t even compare to you. And I’ve never felt so━ so me and so comfortable than when I’m around you. I’m just so thankful you even gave me a chance in the first place━”
This time it is you who silences him again with another short kiss, his words exciting you all too suddenly that you think you aren’t possibly able to contain it. You part from him moments later only to mumble against his lips, “Keep kissing me, please.”
It earns a soft chuckle against your lips but Jungkook doesn’t relent. How can he ever deny such an idea when the taste of your lips is so heavenly? The soft flesh of your upper lip wedged so perfectly between his teeth, the way you sigh with delight against his mouth as the kiss progresses, the way the touch and feel of your lips ignites something so foreign, so lovely, in the very core of his heart, in his bones, exploding with each passing second behind his shut eyelids and at the tips of his fingers. He enjoys it too much to find any reason to stop and, instantaneously, his insatiable hunger for you is coming to light. His eager lips part from yours to nip and suck at your jawline and neck and it earns a beautiful gasp from you, your hands flying out to grasp onto his biceps.
“Let me take care of you tonight, baby girl,” he hums. “It’ll be all about you. I’ll show you just how much you mean to me.”
It’s the way he is whispering his words, deep and husky, that sends shivers down your spine. You curl into his chest instinctively and crane your neck, as if silently begging him for more. You can feel his lips ghost along your jugular as you try to speak next and it is enough to make you flustered and, thus, makes you give up on any attempt to communicate verbally without sounding like a fool. Instead, as if to show him your interest, you catch his lips with yours once more and kiss him eagerly. It makes Jungkook smile and suppress his chuckles as he sees just how desperate you are and, fuck, he finds it incredibly hot. In the next moment, you’re burrowing your face into his neck, your tongue laving circles at his jugular.
“Just as long as you get me out of this stupid dress,” You mumble against his throat.
He laughs lightly and you can’t help the giggle that bubbles at your lips. He grabs onto your waist then and pushes you around until he has your back pressed up against the nearest wall. He leans in against you and replaces your efforts by littering love bites along your neck and down to your collarbone. Your breath hitches in your throat and your hand immediately comes up to allow your fingers to thread in his hair and grasp at something, anything. You’re bristling with excitement as you hold your head higher, lips curling into a smirk. He hums into your neck and then he’s greedily reaching for the zipper of your dress, tugging it down.
As soon as he has the dress unzipped, he watches as you begin to shimmy your way out of the material, tugging it down your torso and then legs and Jungkook makes sure he doesn’t miss one single second of it or the white lace underwear you wear, the perfect perk of your breasts bare. It’s then that Jungkook realizes this isn’t all an elaborate dream in his head; that this is real life, and that you’re opening yourself up completely to him. As soon as you’re stepping out of the dress, Jungkook can’t help but reach out to grab onto your hips and yank you toward him, sighing into your hair, “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice the way your own hands snake up his chest to pop open the first few buttons of his dress shirt. Instead, he is much too busy on peppering kisses along your neck and shoulders, down to your collarbones, and back up again, marking you red and purple. It’s then that he starts pulling you with him as he takes quick yet careful strides backwards to the flight of stairs. It’s messy and frantic and results in a lot of time spent pressed up against walls and the railing of the stairs along the way to the second floor, greedy hands and lips unwilling to part from one another. By the time you’ve made it to his bedroom, you’ve somehow managed to unbutton his entire shirt which now hangs open against his chest and your hands selfishly run up and down his exposed skin. Once in his bedroom, he shoves you up against one of the ceiling-to-floor windows that line the wall facing his bed, his lips still attached to your neck, and one of your legs thrown haphazardly around his hips, pressing him into you.
You can feel the bulge in his pants and his restrained member poking against your inner thigh and it is what pushes you to give an experimental roll of your hips against his. A rather loud moan falls from your lips at the abrupt contact against your throbbing core and suddenly you need more. You catch his lips on yours and he decides to take the liberty of grinding against you in such agonizing slow circles that it has both of you going absolutely insane but you want to take the time to enjoy every single second of this. His hands grasp at your hips, pushing you further and further up against the window. When he parts from you in the next moment, it is with a fleeting sweep of his hungry gaze down the front of your body, his fingertips dancing faintly along your arms and sides.
He presses one last lingering kiss to your lips and then leaves a trail down your throat, between the valley of your breasts (which he gluttonously grasps at, his thumb swiping over one of your perked bugs), and to your navel. He’s on his knees by the time he’s hovering over your hips, and the leg that had been carelessly wound around his waist now rests upon his shoulder. He plants a kiss on the skin just between your hip bones, just above your panties, and surely he understands your need. His seemingly unencumbered expression is maddening. His fingers dig into your hips and hours seem to pass as you wait for him to touch the one place he neglects. A needy whimper falls from your parted lips that sounds akin to a desperate beg of, “Please, Jungkook. I need you.”
“Shh, baby girl, have patience,” he rasps. “I’m going to treat you just right.”
His promise rouses you and makes you stifle your childlike whines, though your patience is beginning to wear thin. His fingers hook around the lace material of your panties and he slowly drags them down your legs, enjoying the way you bite down on your lower lip in anticipation and watch him with hooded eyes. His eyes take in your soft glistening cunt and he sighs in admiration. Then his tongue makes contact with your clit and a small squeak rips from your throat, your hips immediately bucking forward. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, and if anything moans in delight at the taste of your cum on his tongue. He runs the wet muscle down your folds and back up, swirling slow circles against your bundle of nerves, feeling just how wet you are for him, tasting just how wet you are, and the new sensation hits you all at once, leaving your jaw hanging open. He smirks at your reaction, his tongue continuing its ministration as you’re certain he can feel your arousal grow.
“Jungkook,” You sigh, your hands twisting in his hair. “Ah, th━that feels so good━ Oh!”
The sudden gasp that tears from your throat is a result of his finger pressing against your folds. He runs his digit along your skin, coaxing it perfectly in your sticky succulence that sends a sudden shock of euphoria spiralling all over your body. As he busies himself with swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit, his lips suction perfectly around the skin and he sucks, hard, and his finger slides past your slick folds, earning a cry of delight from you. His finger curls within you and begins pumping in and out of you at a gradual pace but it, mixed with his tongue pressed against your clit, is enough to send you whirling out of control. Your legs are suddenly shaking and, had your leg not been supported by his shoulder, you fear that your knees may have buckled under the pressure
“Ah, Jungkook!” You gasp in a trembling breath. “F━Fuck, nghn━”
The sound is simply divine and Jungkook selfishly wants to hear more. He basks in the way you clench around him, the way you whimper and writhe. Soon he is picking up pace, pumping his finger in you with a reckless abandon and sucking hard at your clit, and it’s almost shameless how fast your sweet release hits you. You’re tumbling over the edge soon after, hips bucking back and forth into his mouth as you chase after your high. Jungkook joins his tongue with his fingers and starts lapping at your walls like he’s eating a full course meal and the new sensation suddenly has you howling.
“Jungkook!” You cry. “Jungkook, I’m━”
You hear him, feel him, hum against your core before it turns into a beautiful moan. He burrows deeper into you, his nose brushing against your clit, eager to carry you to your high, and he does so with ease. As soon as you feel your high rapidly approaching, you let go of all sense of control and welcome it with wide open arms. You’re hit with waves of intense pleasure as you release onto Jungkook’s tongue and finger and, fuck, the sight is even hotter than he could have imagined. He hurries to help you ride out your high, gasps and moans ripping from your throat in a messy cacophony, your hips writhing beneath him. He relents at once when you start to whimper at the oversensitivity and pulls apart, glancing up at you with a glistening mouth, his lips and chin coated with you. He licks at every inch of his face that is shimmering and moans in content.
“Fuck, you taste amazing,” he gasps, his eyes flickering up your dishevelled appearance.
You’re breathing hard, chest rising and falling, and your teeth have bitten down so hard on your lower lip that the flesh is almost swollen. He leans down once more to kiss the inside of your thigh gently and looks up at you through his long lashes. You’re still gasping for air when your hands start tugging at him, trying desperately to pull him back up to you, and he allows you to. When his face is hovering right above yours, you smash your lips hungrily against his for a messy and heated kiss. He grins against your mouth, seemingly enjoying the way you’re biting at his lips, tasting your own cum on the tip of his tongue.
“Tell me what you need from me,” he whispers between your kisses. “What do you want?”
“You,” You gasp. “All of you, fuck. I need you so bad. I’m so wet for you right now; I need you to fuck me.”
His grin shifts into a sly smirk as he hears your pleading whines and he kisses you harder. “Anything for you, baby girl.”
He lets you tackle his neck with harsh kisses and lets your digits trace down his torso to the belt on his pants. You’ve only so much as pushed his pants and boxers down his thighs when both of you grow impatient. His cock pulses, tip angry and red and leaking with milky pre-cum, and you lick your lips at the sight, unable to contain yourself. Your hands reach for his length instantly, fingers brushing against his tip before wrapping firmly around his base. His breath hitches in his throat as you start pumping him, gliding your hand slowly up and down his length, your eyes fixated only on him.
“Fuck,” he grunts abruptly. “Baby girl━”
He pauses and hisses through clenched teeth as you continue. He doesn’t at all expect you to start pleasuring him but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he is carried away as you continue to work your hands against him, jerking him off in just the right pace that he isn’t able to hold himself back. He would have been fine coming right in your perfect hands but he needs more first before he is able to let himself fully go. He struggles to find his words as you begin to quicken your pace, sputtering for air helplessly. He squeezes his eyes shut, gulping hard and trying to focus his attention away from the exaltation he’s receiving.
“Ah, s━slow down, angel,” he breathes. It nearly pains him to pry your hands off of him and when you look at him with those innocent puppy dog eyes, he has to refrain from letting go right then and there.
“What’s wrong?” You ask. “I thought you were enjoying that.”
“No━ I mean, fuck, yes, I was,” he stammers. “But I’m trying not to come undone before I’m filling you up. Fuck, I just need to be in you right now.”
“Then fuck me,” You say boldly. “I’m all yours.”
The words seem to spark a glint in his eyes that entices him to move next. One hand grips at your thigh and lifts it onto his waist, while his other hand pumps himself slowly. Your mewls of euphoria hit his ears in a ringing melody and he waits, patiently, watching as you quiver beneath him, moaning once more. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you’re held in suspense, waiting for the heavenly contact. When it happens, when you finally feel the tip of his cock push past your folds, your jaw drops open in a silent gap. He pauses then, grunting and hissing as he adjusts to your warmth, before he’s pushing himself into you once more, slowly. He’s perfectly thick, fitting snugly in your core, letting you feel him stretch you open inch by glorious inch. It’s too much for you to handle now, and you can’t help the moan that escapes you.
“Fuck,” You whimper, head lolling back against the windowpane. “Fuck━ I━ I━”
“You’re so wet,” Jungkook grunts. “Shit, you feel amazing.”
You whimper in response and he pushes himself into you the rest of the way until he’s finally buried hilt deep within you. He pauses again, letting you both adjust to the newfound sensation.  He almost collapses against you as he pushes himself deeper into you, grinding against you in slow motions that have your head spinning. He pulls back after a while in one languid stride until only his tip is left buried in your folds before thrusting back into you with enough force to send you tottering forward. He adapts a leisurely pace of thrusting in and out of you so that you can feel him stretch you open all the way until it feels like he’s in the very back of your throat before pulling out and it drives you mad. As your arms wrap around his neck, one of his hands digs into your hips, and the other dances up the front of your chest. It first grasps at one of your breasts, his warm palm wrapping so perfectly around it, before his fingers stretch out amongst your neck.
Favouring a more suitable position, Jungkook comes to one stimulating halt when he thrusts up into you one final time. Momentarily you’re taken from your reverie when he pulls his dripping cock from your folds. Instead, he turns you around and you so easily oblige. He yanks your hips towards him, your ass pressing up firmly against his hips, and then he pushes himself into you once more. Your hands brace yourself as you plant them firmly on the window before you. From this angle, you can see the dazzling lights of the city, and though you know it isn’t possible from this high up, you wonder if any passersby far down below on the streets can see you and Jungkook in such a lewd setting. This time, his pace is fast and precise, his hips angling just right to thrust his cock into you in just the right spot.
“Fuck, baby girl,” he rasps. “Moan for me. Let me hear you.”
There is an internal battle to find your voice, being condemned silent due to the ecstasy that clouds your mind and blocks you from thinking or saying anything reasonable. You swallow hard, all senses focused on the way he’s thrusting into you, picking up speed, the sound of skin against skin and vulgar wet slaps each time he sinks deeper into you. The only way you can describe it is akin to feeling your head being set ablaze and sending it’s flickering flames all over your body and make the dazzling lights of the city blur in with the stars. When he thrusts into you the next time, he is suddenly hitting an angle that has something erupting in you and has you plummeting forward, jaw ripping open. You cry out as you flail forward, your hands slipping from their hold against the window.
“A━Ah, f━fuck,” You hiss. “Jungkook! J━Jungkook━ I’m━”
Your voice is drowned out by another loud moan and the sound is so angelic, so clear, that Jungkook yearns to hear more. He pulls your waist closer to him because there is no way you can find the strength to prop yourself up any longer when it just feels so amazing. His movements become more erratic, messy as he fumbles for your high and his. His warm fingers continue to tug at your ass, your waist, anything to hold you closer to him. But soon even he can’t hold himself together. With the way you clench so tightly around him, he begins sputtering for air. Soon, he has you pressed shamelessly all the way against the window, your cheek laying flat against the cool glass, and his own chest lays taut against your back. His self-indulgent hands snake around your front and push apart your thighs so that he can rub the heel of his palm against your clit. That, mixed with his teeth sinking absentmindedly into your shoulder, and the feeling of his twitching cock buried deep within your core is enough to have you a moaning and whimpering mess.
When he pulls out of you this time, it is to pull you back towards the king-sized bed. In the process, you help him kick off the stubborn remaining material of his pants. He’s only managed to make it as far being seated at the edge of the bed, with you straddling his hips and sitting prettily in his lap, when you eagerly reach down to run his length along your folds. Jungkook is too caught up in the pleasure to even bother to stop you, watching as you grip his shoulders tightly, and ride him in his lap with a reckless abandon. Your actions are desperate, eager. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tightly against him, and all you can hear is the vulgar wet sound of his length slipping in and out. It’s disorganized, frantic, desperate, hot, as both of you chase your highs. It hits you first after already being spent from your first orgasm, as if you had just ran straight into a brick wall, and has you completely unprepared. It starts at your core and sparks outward, like electricity flowing through your veins and bones. Your stomach unravels at the feeling, your core tightening around his length and the tight confinement has Jungkook moaning and wheezing for air.
“Jungkook!” You cry. “Fuck!”
You reach your high moments later, coming around his length and coating every inch of him in your sweet release as it leaks out of you, chanting his name over and over again in a beautiful mantra that he finds himself indulging in. The way your high overwhelms your senses has you seeing stars, your head spinning, as your body writhes in his ironclad hold. Jungkook nearly collapses against you at the feeling of your kegel muscles flexing around him, his hands pawing at your back in an attempt to keep a hold on reality. It’s the way your orgasm seems to hit you that has your core pulsating around him, even as you try to come down from your high only to feel the pleasurable ache that is his hard cock buried deep within you. He pulls out then, far too quickly for your liking, but he fumbles to gingerly push you over and you follow suit until you’re laying on your back. He takes no time to position himself back over his entrance, kneeling between your legs, and pushes himself into you once more with a wet squelch. You’re met with a feeling of oversensitivity, but you buck your hips forward, probing him to his release.
“Ah, Jungkook,” You whimper. “Mmm, come for me, baby.”
Your indigent hands tug at his arms, his torso, anything in your reach to have him closer to you and he happily obliges, propping himself up with his elbows. He combs your hair away from your face and kisses your lips tenderly. He pulls his length out of you only to slam his hips back in and rattling you to the bone. You squeak involuntarily, your mouth peppering his jawline and neck with love bites. His thrusts are still quick, desperate almost, as he lusts for his release. The tenderness in your core met with his hard pumps have you sinking your teeth down into his shoulder and he hisses. His hand finds your chin then and he delicately pulls you apart from him before making you face him.
“Keep looking at me, baby girl, okay?” he rasps before cursing under his breath.
You nod meekly, finding solace in gnawing on your lower lip as your eyes make contact with his. The sight has Jungkook nearly coming then and there and how can he not when your hooded eyes are fixated on him, sleepy and innocent, completely fucked out, and you’re sucking hard on your lip. Jungkook has a similar look of exhaustion painted on his face, his eyebrows scrunched together in hard concentration and his lips parting ever so slightly for you to see his gritting teeth. Beads of sweat form on his forehead and yours and suddenly the room is stifling hot, warming your face and body completely. Soon, the oversensitivity you feel soothes into something softer, more pleasurable, and it doesn’t affect you nearly as much. You jut your hips forward then, urging him on and he moans.
“Y/N━ Oh, shit━”
A whimper falls from Jungkook’s lips and it’s so surprising, so hot, that you nearly come again. He’s picking up his pace, snapping his hips messily into yours. He comes only moments later, finally reaching his perfect bliss, and it has him plummeting his hips once more into yours before he’s releasing his hot sticky seed into you. The room is filled with both of your moans, mixed with his breathy groans of your name. His weight gives out beneath him and he falls on top of you though he rocks his hips into yours tiredly to ride out his high until he is finally at peace, boneless from within you. Once he has calmed down from his high, he slumps fully against your chest, his face buried in your collarbone, and the room finally goes silent.
All that fills the air is the sound of both of your wheezing pants and your shrilly beating heart that you are certain even Jungkook can hear. The room is warm, the smell of sex stale in the air, but there is a sheen of pure white elatedness that has you sighing in content. Your fingers rake through Jungkook’s sweaty hair and the silence, with the added warmth of his body laying over yours, almost lulls you to sleep. You’re drifting in and out of consciousness when Jungkook presses his lips to your collarbone and then lifts his head to kiss your own lips. Your eyes flicker open then and you find him smiling down at you and the sight is so radiating, so ardent, that you can’t help but mirror it tiredly. He pulls out of you then and you hiss at the sudden emptiness and the way his milky cum leaks out of you and down your thighs. He stands to his feet, tossing on his underwear, before leaning down to whisper, “I’ll be right back, baby girl, don’t worry.”
He disappears out the room but you don’t know where until he returns a minute later with a damp cloth in hand. He climbs the bed next to you and then he begins to gently wipe at your core with the cloth, making you hum in satisfaction. He finds you smiling at him when he finally looks back up at you and quirks a brow, tilting his head to the side.
“What?” he asks.
“Oh, nothing,” You chuckle lightly, though you’re certain he knows his gentle gestures have your heart bursting with joy. “Come here.”
He does as you say, reclining back on the bed and opening his arms to invite you in. You wiggle closer to his body until you’re pressed up against his side, your head nuzzling into his chest; his own arm wraps around your waist and his other hand lets his fingers run up and down your spine in comforting circles. That, and the sound of his gently thudding heart, is what carries you to sleep that night.
When you awake in the morning, it is to the coarse and wet tongue of Gureum lapping at your cheek. The shimmering sunlight drifts in through Jungkook’s shut blinds and dusts your body in a golden light and heat. It, and Gureum, rouses you back to reality and has you giggling sleepily as you see the small white dog perched up next to you on the bed. Your reach for him to scratch behind his ears as your eyes focus on Jungkook laying just beyond the dog. He’s already awake, gazing up at you with dreary eyes and a soft smile.
“Good morning,” You yawn.
“Morning,” he replies.
He kisses your forehead and you smile once more, folding into him as you hug Gureum close to you. It’s silent again after that and it feels so strange to have everything feel so normal. To be cuddling with Jungkook and his dog in his bed with him after a night of making love, and it is almost as if you were supposed to be there from the very beginning. It was comfortable, it was simple, it was easy ━ and you loved every single second of it. His hand finds yours and your fingers lace together flawlessly and you’re so content with falling back asleep that you nearly miss Jungkook when he speaks next.
“Do you remember what I said to you at the lounge when I first brought up this whole thing?” he asks.
It takes you a moment to think back to that day which seems so far away. His gaze is fixated on your clasped hands but you’re already staring at him.
“The rules?”
He nods slowly. “Do you remember how I said we shouldn’t fall in love?”
You can already sense where the conversation is going and it has your throat swelling, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes.”
Jungkook finally looks at you, his dark chocolate eyes locking with your own pupils. “Well,” he trails off. “I’m pretty sure I broke that rule because I’m falling in love with you.”
His confession startles you completely, hitting you all at once. You gasp in response, eyes widening in surprise, and you can only hope he isn’t able to hear the frantic beating of your heart.
“When did you break it?”
That is all you can muster, but it doesn’t seem to disappoint Jungkook. He smiles sheepishly, his eyes flickering up to the ceiling.
“Would you call me insane if I said that very night at the lounge?” he asks.
“No,” You reply, catching his attention once more. “Because I’m fairly certain that’s when I started falling for you, too.”
Jungkook’s face begins to light up and it is the first time you have seen him as happily genuine as he is there. His smile radiates the same warmth and glory of the sun and he watches you in a shimmering lovelight as you look away, face flushing, and fingers tracing patterns on his bare chest.
“Can we make another deal?” You ask faintly.
“Of course, anything,” he says.
“Can we━ Can we give us a try?” You inquire.
Jungkook laughs. “You didn’t have to ask. I thought it was already a given that we would give us a try after we said we both have feelings for each other.”
You smile again and look up at him. “But there’s more.”
“What is it, baby girl?”
“I just━” You pause and then push yourself over onto your stomach from beneath the soft sheets. Gureum skips over to the edge of the bed and sits at the very end of your feet. “I want to give us a try without your money getting in the way. I mean, I don’t need you ━ or want you ━ to pay for me to be by your side. I want this to be real and genuine.”
“Of course,” he complies. “This is just you and me now. But, that being said, I’m still obligated to spoil my baby girl rotten every now and then with gifts and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. You still deserve to be treated like a princess.”
You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at him. You kiss him once more, short and quick, and mumble against his lips a very faint, “Deal. But, on one condition.”
“Go on,” he hums.
“You let me take you out on a coffee date today and let me pay for the both of us this time with my own money,” You say.
Jungkook grins wide and nods enthusiastically. “That sounds perfect. Anything you want, I’ll do.”
You find it hard to look away from Jungkook after that, and you’re certain you find yourself falling even more in love with him then. His golden tan illuminates under the glittering sunlight and you want nothing more than to be in that moment forever where it is just you and Jungkook, Jungkook and you.
“First thing’s first, though,” Jungkook says at long last. “How about we start the morning off right with a round two from last night in the shower right now. What do you say?”
His proposition has you laughing so suddenly that it startles Gureum at the edge of the bed. You lean down again to kiss Jungkook’s irresistible lips. When you part, you catch his mischievous stare and his broad grin and mirror it.
“Well,” You say, “I have always said you like to spoil me rotten.”
“Well,” Jungkook echoes with a chuckle. He shrugs innocently as he speaks next, pressing a chilling kiss to your neck. “Only the best for my baby girl.”
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sparklingchim · 4 months ago
drown in your body; m | jjk
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pairing: werewolf!jungkook x human!reader
rating: 18+
word count: 6.1k
genre: alpha!jk, werewolf au, smut, friends to lovers
warnings: dom!jk, sub!reader, dirty talk, groping, spanking, name calling (bitch) fingering, oral (f receiving), impreg/breeding kink, possessiveness, jk is massive, knotting, multiple orgasms, slight choking
summary: You're ovulating - and oblivious to it - and Jungkook, the best friend he is, wants to protect you. But because you're a brat and never listen anyway, you do the exact opposition of what Jungkook advised you to do... And somehow it all ends up with Jungkook fucking you.
a/n: i may have listened to 'drown' by baekhyun while writing this heheee 🤭
Jungkook is your best friend.
But as much as you love your best friend, sometimes - maybe a little bit more than only sometimes - your love is equally freighted with hate.
You just don't know why he's acting so haughty sometimes and thinks that whatever nonsense spills out of his mouth is the best and right thing to do. Well, he is a werewolf - an alpha werewolf to state it correctly - but still, it's not like Jungkook and you aren't friends since you both were little, so Jungkook is undoubtedly aware of that you don't care whatever alpha male shit he is confronting you with.
Take for example this situation right now - Jungkook is pulling that stupid alpha shit on you, behaving like he knows everything better and has to take care of you like you're his younger sister and ew, that perception is just  gross.
,,But I want to come with you," you pout, eyebrows stubbornly furrowed.
,,I don't care," Jungkook simply answers, pushing your hand away that you stretched out to straighten his bangs.
You huff at his annoyed attitude and turn around to open your dorm room with your keys. ,,Why can't I come?" you ask, still not understanding why he doesn't want you to come to the party.
Jungkook picked you up from your late afternoon class and walked you to your dorm. When you asked him if he had something planned for today he said he was going to the party later and of course you asked if you could join him, but to your surprise he rejected you. Without a reason. Jungkook thinks he's being all protective - over what you don't know, because you've been with him to a lot of parties already - but to you he talked gibberish for the past ten minutes while you walked to your dorm and not one single reasonable sentence came out of him.
You turn around when the door opens, pushing the it wider so Jungkook can come in, but he is just standing in front of the entrance, not indicating to follow you inside.
,,You're not coming inside?"
,,I told you that I would go over to the frat house," Jungkook retorts, perplexing you.
,,The party won't start until a few hours though."
,,I know, but the boys and I are gonna meet there now."
,,Okay, then I'll come over later."
Jungkook flares his nostrils, trying to calm himself with taking a deep breath. ,,Why is it so hard for you to just obey me when I tell you something?"
,,What the hell, Jungkook? I'm not your bitch that you can boss around." Normally Jungkook had more patience with you than he has now - though you're behaving like a brat for the most of times - and doesn't let his anger overcome him.
,,It's better for you if you stay home today, y/n," he says calmer, your reaction telling him that he may have been too rough with you.
You roll your eyes. ,,What kind of bullshit is that? You know, just- just tell me if you don't want to have me around, Jungkook."
,,When did I say that? Stop putting words into my mouth, y/n."
,,It certainly feels that way."
,,But really, do you think just because we're best friends we have to be with each other all the time?"
,,So you're admitting that the only reason you don't want me to come is because you don't want me around because you want some alone time with your friends? Am I too clingy for you?" You arch an eyebrow, pretending to sound accusatory, but inside you're supposition that you have of your friendship is crumbling under uncertainty as you take Jungkook's words into consideration.
Are you really clingy? Are you not letting him have time with his friends, because your practically occupying his whole free time? You never thought about this, it never hit your mind that Jungkook could find your annoying or clingy, because he never implied anything when he was with you. You both grew up like this though, always being with each other, literally almost always spending the night over at each others places.
However, right now everything seems quite the opposite.
,,I didn't say that," Jungkook tries to clarify, but it doesn't sound convincing.
,,Sure you didn't."
Jungkook is visibly piqued at your persistent doubts that you exhibit towards him, but you don't care about how your words are affecting him, because your focus is on defending yourself and not letting him treat you like this - he's your best friend after all, he shouldn't be out here treating you like your his bitch that he can command.
,,Stop fucking acting like this," Jungkook says, clenching his jaw.
,,Yeah your right, sorry for wanting to spent some time with you. Your friends are probably waiting for you," you retort pertly. You don't give him a chance to reply anything to you as you shut the door right in front of his face. A triumphant feeling bubbles inside of you, though it might seem a bit childish, but you don't care.
,,Y/n," he growls from the other side, but you just turn on your heels and enter your kitchen to eat something. Food seems much more important than an annoying Jungkook who can't keep his stupid alpha behaviour under control.
A few hours later you're at the frat house.
Though Jungkook told you to not visit, his reasons - were there even any reasons? - were inscrutable, so you didn't give a damn about what he said to you and decided to come over anyways.
You're not aware of where Jungkook is, but that shouldn't matter because you're not here because of him. You're here to have fun and no to meet Jungkook.
After you get yourself a drink there's already a guy - named Hoseok - who approached you and starts a conversation with you. You know that he's a werewolf, he's in a few of your classes but you never really talked to him. Most werewolfs get scared off by the heavy alpha smell that always lingers on you - the outcome of being with Jungkook 24/7. The students here didn't dare to hit on you-sometimes even too afraid of approaching you to just talk to you. They either smell the alpha scent on you or they're aware of Jungkook and you being close, so they decide for the safer option and don't reach out to you. You have some friends, most of them female though, and making new friends was getting harder every day.
However, you're surprised that the usual keeping distance from you doesn't apply for today, because lots of people approach you and try to get your attention.
You're currently in the middle of talking to Jimin, when someone clears his throat beside you. You gasp in shock and turn your head to be met with Jungkook's brown orbs, already staring at you. A perfectly shaped eyebrow is arched and his buff arms are folded in front of him.
Jungkook seems to be...angry. And to call his impression to be angry was an understatement. He looked...Yeah, you don't even know how to describe it, because Jungkook never looked at you like that. He never seemed to be angry at you - well, yes, sometimes over petty things, but not to that extent - and you simply are at loss of words.
His tongue is prodding at the insides of his mouth and if it wasn't for the furious expression he grants you with, you would have concentrated on his hotness and fantasised about what else his tongue is able to do. Jungkook looks so utterly beguiling when he is angry, but not when his rage is pointed at you.
It didn't take long for Jungkook to notice that you're somewhere in this dwelling - despite him explicitly telling you not to come, but of course you still came over since your whole entity exudes brattiness so it's no wonder that you didn't listen to his demand - and it also didn't take a lot of time for him to make out your exact location - the house is practically getting drowned in your scent.
,,What are you doing here?" Jungkook asks, his gaze fully locked on yours and not even sparing a glance at Jimin - who's slowly taking little steps to the side to get away from Jungkook and the scene that's about to unravel...
,,I don't think that's any of your business."
Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head.
,,You are so stupid, aren't you?"
,,Just leave me alone. I'm not even here with you, so have fun with your friends," you say and want to brush him off and walk to the living room, but Jungkook grabs your wrist and doesn't let you go.
,,Where do you think you're going?" he asks with his deep voice.
,,Away from you," you answer and try to wiggle his hand off your wrist, but he doesn't budge.
,,Being with me is probably gonna be the safest now," he grumbles and suddenly he starts walking, dragging you along with him.
You're out of the frat house, walking down the street and you're so confused as to why he reacted like that. Sure, you ignored his words from earlier, but dragging you out of the fucking frat house? That was too much.
,,What is wrong with you Jungkook?!"
He turns around, eyes big and full with anger.
,,What's wrong with me? Really?"
You knit your eyebrows together. ,,You're fucking towing me out of the party like I'm some five year old kid. Get your shit together, Jungkook!" you almost scream at him and your thankful that nobody is around.
,,Why don't you get your shit together? Why are you fucking blaming me?!"
,,What are you taking about?" you ask confused, Jungkook makes absolutely no sense today.
,,Didn't your parents teach you this, y/n?" Jungkook hisses, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
,,Teach me what?" you obliviously ask.
,,That you shouldn't be walking around horny frat boy werewolfs with no care in the world when you are fucking fertile!"
Lips parting you try to get a coherent sentence out of you, but no words spill out of your mouth - just silence hanging between the two of you, his chide completely threw you off.
You absolutely did not expect this. How could you though? (Perhaps if you would keep track of your fertility, but documenting your period on the app on your phone was already annoying enough so you never cared about anything else. Stupid you.)
,,I- I didn't know...," you say abashed.
,,Of course you didn't know." Jungkook's voice is still laced with irritation, he tries to suppress the growing anger inside him, but it doesn't work. Your intoxicating smell is fully wrapped around him, even stronger than when he picked you up from your classes earlier this day. And the fact that you didn't listen to him - didn't listen to his demand though the only purpose of everything he does is to protect you - infuriates him so much.
Sometimes Jungkook really asked himself how he was able to stay with you for so long, because your impish attitude gave him a hard time for hundredths of times already. But the simply answer to that is love. His love that is allocated for you ebbs every annoying thing away, lets it crumble into something meaningless and reminds him about his deep feelings for you, because no matter how tough it is with you sometimes - Jungkook would do everything for you. He'd do everything to meet all of your desires and arouse that sweet little smile that you flash him every time you're fond of his actions.
The simplicity of love surprised him sometimes. The simple way of having such intense feeling for someone that bewitch him into not hesitating for anything he does for you, never spending a second thought about his actions - as long as it pertains your welfare he would do anything to make you happy. But that's what love does to you, Jungkook thinks. And if that's what being in love with you is like, Jungkook would never get tired of it. Making you happy is the equivalent to making Jungkook happy.
,,Let's just get you home. Your smell was giving everyone a hard time back there," Jungkook says, voice finally calm - though it sounded strained.
Usually when you're ovulating Jungkook tries to be as close to you as possible, allowing no other male person to have any intrusive thoughts and thinking about approaching you. He also makes sure to stay either at your or his place when your scent is the strongest. Throughout the whole procedure of keeping you away from horny werewolfs - whom primal insticts would get the better hand of them if it wasn't for Jungkook protecting you - it was excruciatingly painful to be with you when the aroma of your fertile pussy is flying in the air. But he always kept his itching finger away from you. As long as you don't have a partner to do this job for him, he would be the one keeping you safe. (Though you being in a relationship with someone would probably not change anything about his constant need of protecting you and making sure that you're okay.)
You still have a hard time adjusting to the fact that you came over to the frat house, getting surprised by all the boys suddenly approaching you, but now you know that they only hit you up because you are ovulating, which finally brings some sense into the atypical situation.
,,But let's keep some distance between us. It's hard to hold back," Jungkook confesses. He pondered about saying this, but he wants you to know that your ovulating indeed has consequences that are also affecting him.
You weren't prepared for his sudden admission - yes, he is a werewolf, you know that, but you didn't think he would openly confess that your current that effects him. Nevertheless, you like it. You like having the knowledge of him having a difficult time because of you. Because there's an elusive desire in him and you're the cause of it. It would be a lie if you would say that you didn't relish in the feeling of having that power over him, which also leads you to feel more confident, causing a questions to pop up inside your mind.
You take a step closer to Jungkook, reducing the desirable between you, despite of what Jungkook said a minute ago.
Your heart drums inside your chest, your lungs tightening and effecting your steady breathing. Desperately you try to calm your nerves, knowing that Jungkook can hear your heartbeat, is able to notice your whole change in your demeanour, but you don't succeed with your attempt and rather flood your body with more excitement.
Regardless of his skills and the knowledge of the obvious exhilaration that builds up in you, Jungkook stays quite and waits for your answer. He won't dare to cross a line and put you off - you're way too precious for him.
,,What if I don't want you to hold back?"
Your words add more tension in the already buzzing air, holding so much power in them.
,,What if I want you to fuck me?"
,,Y/n...," he warns.
Maybe you would've felt insecure after that insensible answer to your confession, but his lust filled eyes tell you enough to make you doubtless - facilitated even, because for how long did you hide your crush on Jungkook now? (you clearly remember the day when Jungkook joined the baseball team in school and suddenly his body became all buff and big, his usual adorable look vanishing and being replaced with something so manly and attractive that made all the girls in school gush over him. And maybe his bulkier body and the confidence he gained through all the attention that he got - though a lot of people already had a crush on him before that - provoked the crush you developed on him.)
,,I mean it, Jungkook."
,,You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he tries to alert you, wanting to let you know that once you both would get started he won't be able to urge his primal instincts back.
Again you step closer to him, wrapping your hands around his neck and trailing your eyes over his soft lips, the wait trail that his tongue left there a second ago glistening under the glow of the moon that is high up in the sky.
Jungkook can't stop himself, the close proximity of your body instantly drawing him to your neck and he nuzzles his face into your soft skin, your aroma hitting his nostrils and he growls against your skin.
,,I want you," you whisper.
Oh God. How long had Jungkook waited to hear these words from you? He wants you for so many years now, the desire to stuff you full of his cock has been inside him for too long.
And when you start placing soft little smooches on his neck, it's over for Jungkook. He won't be able to resist you this time.
,,You're absolutely sure?"
,,Aren't you literally able to smell how wet I am right now?"
,,No, because your fucking fertile cunt outweighs every other smell," Jungkook snarls, his eyes twinkling in a light red colour as his primal instincts to breed you right then and there get the better hand of him.
And that's how you end up in Jungkook's bed - both your bodies left with just your underwear - only a few minutes after.
He's pinning you down, his big and muscular body caging you under him, his lips hungrily moving against yours and tangling his tongue with you. It's messy and fast and uncoordinated, but as long as it's Jungkook, everything feels amazing.
While his mouth trails down to your jawline his hand cups your tit, squeezing the soft flesh before harshly tugging your bra down and tweaking your already hard nipple. You whine at the pleasurable plain, your whine turning into a moan when he starts sucking your neck and soon slightly sinks his teeth into your skin. Jungkook soothes his bites with his tongue, placing a few reassuring kisses before he moves on.
He fully neglects your tits as he ducks down, he would worship your body more, but right now there's just one place that he wants to be and that's your fertile little pussy. His whole mind is clouded just because of your addicting smell and he can't prolong his craving any longer.
He settles himself between your open legs, discarding your wet panties in one swift motions. Your leaking pussy is just a few centimetres away from his mouth. Jungkook sniffs at your pussy, taking long and deep breaths through his nose to devour the whiff of your fertility.
,,Fuck, you're pussy is so ready to get filled with cum, isn't it?" he asks, his index finger gliding over your cunt. Jungkook bites his lip when he takes the sight of your sticky arousal on his finger in, pulling his digit away to see how long the string of your arousal will go. ,,Fucking look at this." He's so mesmerised by your pussy, his eyes trained on your wetness. His other hand roughly squeezes your thigh, his fingers digging into you flesh. Jungkook sucks his digit clean before pushing both of your thighs up. ,,Hold them up," he instructs and you immediately comply, bending your legs and holding them to your chest.
Jungkook dives right in, his mouth sucking and slurping on your juices, completely surprising you with his tempo. His wicked tongue darts out, rapidly toying with your clit while moans and whimpers spill out of you. His ministrations only cause your pussy to get wetter and wetter, but Jungkook is quick to drink it all down, desperately searching for all your juices that you can offer him.
His hands sneak up to your tits, fondling with the straps of your bra before impatience overcomes him when he can't seem to get the fabric away to see your beautiful full breasts in their full splendour, so he rips your bra into two pieces, throwing both of them away.
,,What the fuck, Jungkook?" you manage to say, suppressing a moan.
,,I'll buy you a new one," he mumbles against your core. Though you're really mad at him, you can't pretend like Jungkook murmuring words against your pussy with his deep voice isn't turning you on.
,,Don't think you will tho," you retort, eyebrows furrowed as you feel the blood inside you sizzle in pleasure.
,,Want me to take you to Victoria Secret tomorrow? I'll get you everything you want, baby."
Oh fuck. Just the thought of Jungkook pampering you with sexy lingerie only excites you.
,,I'd fucking love to."
Jungkook hums against your core, the vibrations of his low tone sending another wave of arousal through you and you're so close to coming undone.
,,Now shush, I'm gonna make you cum now." His big hands knead your tits, fingers grazing over your buds before teasingly pulling them. You whine and moan and shake beneath Jungkook, everything he's doing feels so great.
His mouth latches onto your clit, sucking at your bundle of nerves at the same time as he plunges two fingers inside you. You moans when he starts moving his digits inside you, expertly crooking them and finding you sweet spot within seconds.
,,Oh!" you moan loud.
Jungkook looks up at you, enjoying the view of your beautiful face twisted into pure euphoria.
,,Gonna cum now," you warn him.
Jungkook hums again, the vibrations completely sending you off and throwing you into another dimension. You roll your eyes, your fingers digging into the back of your thighs. The motions of his fingers stop and your pussy starts grinding on its own on Jungkook's face, riding your high out as Jungkook cleans your cum smeared folds up, licking your sticky cunt clean before he withdraws himself and his fingers from it. You let go from the grip on your legs and they fall limb on Jungkook's bed.
,,That was so goddamn hot," he whispers kissing his way up to your face.
You're still panting crazily, but that doesn't stop you from wanting more.
,,You're gonna fuck me now?"
,,Such a fucking bitch," he curses. ,,You're really desperate to get bred by me, aren't you? You want me to fill you up so good and full of cum, huh?"
,,Shit, yes. Yes, Jungkook."
You notice his glance to your pussy and then to his night stander where his condoms probably are.
,,I have an IUD," you tell him before he's able to ask. He nods, and kisses you briefly before he pulls his briefs down, throwing the fabric across his room. Then he sits back on his heels, stroking his hard dick in slow movements.
Jungkook is huge. You'd already fantasised about his big size, but you never imagined it to be this massive.
You bite finger while your thought, captivated by his enormous length.
You're a bit intimidated by Jungkook's size and he immediately picks up on your hesitance, reassuring you with soft spoken words and loving strokes on your body.
,,We can stop right now, but once I get inside you I can't promise to be gentle," he truthfully informs you, giving you the opportunity to back out, but you're way too turned on right now to not allow Jungkook to fuck you hard and deep just like you need it.
,,No, I want this. Want your cock inside me and filling me with your cum. Please." Your voiced is laced in desperation and longing for his cock and Jungkook wouldn't let you pass another minute without his dick stuffed inside your tight pussy.
,,You want me to breed you so fucking bad, huh? You're so filthy." He bores his fingers into your hip, his mind fully misted over with your suffocated scent and his primal instincts to fuck his pups inside you. In the next second Jungkook flips you over, holding your hips up and you naturally steady yourself on your elbows, arching your back for him. 
He glides his cock over your slick folds, his tip gathering every bit of your juices that stick on your pussy. After he lubricated your entrance with your wetness, he nudges his tip slowly in, hands grazing over your sides to calm your senses as he plunges his length deeper inside you, leisurely sinking into your heat till he's fully buried in your warm core. You weren't aware of the breath you were holding in, but when his whole cock deep inside you, you let out a shaky wheeze.
,,What a beautiful bitch you are. Taking my cock so well," Jungkook praises and your insides flutter at his comment.
Jungkook presses soft kisses over your spine, continuing to pamper your body with gentleness before he would start fucking you like he truly wants, but at the same time his affectionate gestures allow him to calm himself down, suppressing the zeal that is going to overtake his body once he makes sure of your wellbeing.
,,You can move now, Gguk," you say, a little moan escaping your mouth after feeling him shuffle behind you and his length mildly moving inside.
Jungkook bottoms out, only letting the tip in before he thrusts forward again, moaning in unison when your tight walls are wrapped around his thick member. Just when Jungkook gracefully moves into you, he knows that he won't be able to control his animalistic behaviour, your tight pussy feels too good to let him have a sober mind.
He has no patience to build up a fast rhythm by going slow at first, Jungkook has to fuck you hard and deep, he wants to make you both cum and spill his seed inside you and let everyone smell his cum on you. He wants everyone to know that your his and no one else's.
You whimper, his cock stretching you out so delicately and reaching spots that no one else ever touched.
,,You like getting fucked like this, don't you?" His condescending tone sends shivers down your spine, making your body scream for more. And Jungkook is good in giving you more, his pace evolves into a more rapid and ferocious one, letting you think of nothing but his cock ramming inside you. ,,Answer me, bitch," he demands.
,,Y-yes, love it. Love it so much, Jungkook," you mewl.
,,Who am I?" he asks though gritted teeth, intently waiting for your answer.
,,Jungkook." You know that this probably wasn't the answer he wanted to coax out of you, but your mind is too busy with dealing with the unceasing pleasure that rushes through.
,,Wrong," he tsks, his hand harshly landing on your ass. You hiss at the sting, mind searching for what Jungkook wants to hear, but you can't come up with something.
,,I'm your alpha, you hear me? I'm your fucking alpha and you're my little bitch." Jungkook spanks you again before gripping your ass with both his hands.
,,You're my alpha, I'm yours, I belong to you," you frantically pant and blurt these words out, but you really mean them - they're not just trivial words you say to make him feel better. You belong to Jungkook, it has never been otherwise.
,,That's right. Your alpha is gonna breed you, hm? I'm gonna shoot my cum into your womb and fuck you till your full with my pups. You would love that, wouldn't you?
,,Fuck, yes. Wanna carry your babies," you moan. Your elbows give in and you press your cheek against Jungkook's bed. He groans when the images of you being big and round fill his mind and Jungkook loves it, he adores the thought of everyone knowing that your his and he's yours so fucking much.
,,Everyone's gonna know that your mine, that your round and full with my pups," he growls lowly.
They already know that Jungkook and you belong to each other - and Jungkook is fully aware of that too because he purposefully scents you every time your both have to go somewhere without one another.
Jungkook leans over, nuzzling his face on the juncture between shoulder and neck.
,,Smell so fucking good," he mumbles, low pants filling your ears and clouding your mind.
The familiar knot magnifies inside you again and you clutch the sheets, knuckles going white because of the tight hold.
,,You're gonna cum, aren't you? You're gonna cum for your alpha." Jungkook draws back again, his gaze locked on you ass jiggling due to the harsh snaps of his hips and reveling in the sounds of your slick pussy getting pounded by his cock.
You nod hastily nod, the tight feeling inside high approaching fast and clogging your mind with thoughts of finally experienced your high that you seek for so desperately,
The constantly sprouting wave finally threatens to erupt with a sudden intensity. And when it ultimately does, it shatters your body into profound delectation, your whole body shuddering as it overflows with pleasure that you've never felt before.
Jungkook's boundless lunges into your pulsating heat let you see scintillating stars when your eyes screw shut, little whimpers and whines leaving your mouth.
,,Fuuckk, that's right. Cum on my cock like the good little bitch you are," he groans, watching how you nuzzles your face further into his mattress and muffling your loud moans. He slides his hands across your sides, giving you a few affectionate strokes.
Tears prick in your eyes, your head comfortable laying on the sheets and your cheek pressed snugly on it. Your heart thunders inside your chest. Your whole body felt drained and tired but at the same time you never felt so much delight and euphoria fill your body, your toes curling at all the overwhelming feelings that flooded your body all at once.
,,Shit, your pussy is so tight baby. So greedy to milk everything out of me," Jungkook curses and one hand crashes against your ass, coaxing a whine out of you. ,,I'm gonna breed you - fuck, I'm gonna fill you up with my cum."
Jungkook opts for really hard thrusts now, your body jolting forwards as he does, but he instantly pulls your back by your hips, having a secure grip on holding your body firmly on your spot.
,,You're my dirty little bitch aren't you? Only mine - you're my bitch, right?"
,,Uh-huh, I'm yours - I'm your bitch," you retort with a tired voice, but his current state rubs off on you, slowly coaxing you out of your little bubble and shooting fire inside you again.
Your answer gets Jungkook more of. He ducks down again, one hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing his fingers around your sweaty skin. Jungkook is lost inside your body, absolutely lost in the way your fertile cunt was spasming around him and trying to milk him out.
,,Want me to breed you? Do you want me to fuck my pups into you?" he pants, his digits pushing further into you throat.
,,Please Jungkook, please fill me up," you beg, tilting your head so you're able to look at him. And fuck, you've never seen him that gorgeous before. His dampened curly hair hangs on his forehead, his whole body covered in a layer of sweat, some droplets streaming down his neck and his temple. Eyebrows scrunched together and his lips secured in his teeth, his jolts get sloppier the closer he gets to his climax.
,,I'm so fucking close," he mutters and draws closer to slightly bites down your shoulder.
,,Breed me, Jungkook. Breed me till I'm swollen with your pups inside me."
Your words spur him on, a deep animalistic growl leaving his mouth before you feel him painting your clenching walls white, shooting his cum so deep inside you that you feel it spurting past your cervix. Jungkook's cock twitches inside you a few times and he lets out a deep moan, continuing slow strokes till he completely stops.
Not soon after that the base of his cock starts swelling, stretching your even wider as his size grows bigger. A few more spurts of his cum squirts inside you. You whine at the new feeling, squirming beneath him.
,,Shh, it's fine, baby," he soothes you, slowly guiding both your bodies on your sides when his knot infatuated to its full size.
A few tears roll down your cheeks and Jungkook quickly swipes them away with his thumb, cupping your cheek and placing a soft smooch on your nose.
,,You did so well, baby," Jungkook whispers, combing his fingers through your hair. ,,So well." His gentle voice pacifies you, lulling your pain away.
,,I love you." Your sudden confession makes him stop with his comforting strokes on your hair. He's searching for something in your eyes - he doesn't know that exactly he is looking for, but just something that indicates that your just playing with him and not meaning the three little words that you just said. But Jungkook finds nothing in your eyes, except for the mesmerising sparkle and the usual fondness that Jungkook always notices when you look at him.
Of course nothing had changed from the look of your eyes - you're gaze looks the same as ever, you were always looking at him with full love expressed in your eyes, because you are in love with Jungkook for years now.
,,I love you," Jungkook retorts, his tone soft.
You flesh him your cutest smile ever, nose lightly crunching up.
,,Say it again," he says.
,,I love you."
You giggle. ,,I love you."
Jungkook pulls himself closer to you, pressing his forehead against yours.
,,Again," he mumbles against your lips.
,,I lov-" before you can finish he captures your lips into a kiss, moving his lips in languid fashions over yours. Your tummy tickles, shivers run down your spine, mind clouded with his loving touches and his sweet confession.
The realisation that you got laid by your best friend sinks in only now. Your childhood friend - your long-time crush fucked you and on top of that he reciprocates your feelings. What a life. Is this what the main characters in books and movies feel like?
You both were so caught up in kissing each other that you both didn't notice how his cock slipped out of you and how a tiny mess of cum is now sticking on his bed sheets. You want Jungkook again, the sudden confessions and the passionate kisses are making you thirsty for him.
,,Again" - you push your upper body up, grazing his abs seductively - ,,Please fuck me again," your beautiful voice whispers.
Jungkook is bemused for a second, taking into consideration how your body must feel utterly fatigued after what you both have done - especially after Jungkook's untamed animalistic behaviour - it is absurd how fast you want to go again. He thought you were done for the night, but it seems like you have other plans.
Despite is concern about the condition of your body, Jungkook would do anything to satisfy you wishes. (and maybe he wouldn't deny your wish because he feels his softened cock growing into a boner again...)
However, before he starts getting into action again, there's one thing Jungkook wants to tell you again.
,,I love you," he repeats, watching how your eyes sparkle in delight at his confession.
,,I love you too," you beam and peck him on the lips. ,,But please make me see stars again, wanna feel you again, want you to fill me up again," you beg and bite your lip. Your ovulation is making you feel so horny and now that you have a naked Jungkook beside you it's not really helping to curb your hormones.
And with your lust filled pleads, Jungkook towers over you again and you two have lots of fun for the rest of the night, the moon accompanying you two with its glimmer shining into Jungkook's bedroom, encasing his room in a comfortable light and creating a cosy environment that envelops the both of you.
You both go for a second round and then a third round - the moonlight shining into Jungkook's bedroom a constant companion as you do the dirtiest things - and perhaps even a fourth - no, that would be too much, even for Jungkook...But maybe you did?? No, no, not possible...Or..?
Well, only Jungkook and you know everything that happened on his bed, on top of his dishevelled bed sheets, his glooming bedroom which you filled with the pent up love that you finally get to express just how you both dreamed of after hiding your admiration for so long.
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extravaguk · 2 months ago
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pairing: jungkook x reader
summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.
Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.
wordcount: 15k
genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader
rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)
warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much
author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!
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You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.
You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.
Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.
'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'
You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.
'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'
But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.
'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'
That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.
The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks
"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."
Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.
"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."
She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"
"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."
"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"
"Nipples. Like, one of them."
Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."
The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.
Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.
"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.
He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?
"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."
September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.
Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.
So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.
"It's fine. I can do it."
"JK, sweetheart!"
Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.
"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."
Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.
"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.
Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.
Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.
It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.
Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.
And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.
He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.
He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.
"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.
You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.
Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."
So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-
He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.
"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.
Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.
Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.
"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.
You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-
"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.
"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.
"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.
"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.
"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-
He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.
Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.
"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-
He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."
He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.
"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."
But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.
"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."
"Let me see!"
It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.
When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.
But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.
Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.
You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.
Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.
So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.
So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.
But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.
Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.
The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.
But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.
You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.
With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.
It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.
And oh, did it react.
He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.
There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.
You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.
And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'
You swear you almost came right on his table.
And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.
So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.
"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"
"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."
At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"
"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."
There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"
You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.
"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."
Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.
You know he's here.
Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.
It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.
You don't see him, but you feel him.
You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.
You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.
You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.
To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-
Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.
You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.
"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.
"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"
Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."
When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.
"You okay?"
The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.
"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.
Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.
Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.
"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.
"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."
"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"
"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.
Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.
And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.
"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"
You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.
"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"
"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."
"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.
"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.
He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.
His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.
Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.
Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.
Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.
Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.
"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.
"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.
"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."
Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.
Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.
He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.
He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.
He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.
So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.
He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.
You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.
He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.
"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.
"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.
"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"
Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"
"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."
Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.
"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"
"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"
He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"
Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"
"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.
"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"
"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"
Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."
"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."
"Why not?"
"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"
It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."
You've made up your mind.
And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.
It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.
Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?
You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.
You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.
But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.
So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.
And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.
"Fuck him."
"I know right? Fuck him!"
"No. I mean, fuck him."
And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.
"A date."
"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"
He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.
"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."
Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.
He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?
"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.
He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.
How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.
But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.
He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.
It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.
It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.
You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-
"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."
"Sharon Stone?"
"Chaelin's cat."
To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.
He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"
Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.
You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.
You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.
To your surprise, none of that happened.
The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.
There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.
It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.
"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.
Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.
"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.
At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.
"I'm sorry, by the way."
"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"
"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."
A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."
tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.
At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.
But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.
It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.
"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.
You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.
"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.
"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."
There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.
"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.
You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.
"You have to stop saying my name like that."
With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.
"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.
"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.
But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.
The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.
He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.
"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.
"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."
"And you came before the ride was over."
You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."
She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.
"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"
There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."
There's another pause, and then-
"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"
You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.
Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.
It's not that you're mad.
Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.
Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.
'Next time, maybe.'
And there hasn't been a next time.
The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.
But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.
It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.
Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.
'you free on saturday?'
You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.
So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.
And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.
You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.
You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.
A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.
"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.
Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.
"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.
Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.
Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.
You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.
His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.
"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.
You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.
It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.
"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.
Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.
"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.
"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.
"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.
There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."
Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.
At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.
Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.
"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.
"Rocky road."
He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."
You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"
"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."
"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"
"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.
"Okay, fine. Why?"
"You're boring and basic."
You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."
You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.
You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.
The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.
It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.
It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.
It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.
It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.
Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.
But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.
You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.
Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.
Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.
It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.
He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.
He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.
And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.
Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.
He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.
"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.
"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.
"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.
"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."
Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.
"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."
"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"
You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.
Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.
There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.
"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.
"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."
You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.
He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."
"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.
"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"
"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"
"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"
You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"
He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"
"Ju- "
"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."
Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.
You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.
"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"
"Please, don't laugh."
That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.
She doesn't laugh at all.
"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."
"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."
"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."
"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.
"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.
"I know. I'm just sad."
"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."
"I know."
There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.
"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.
It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.
He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.
He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.
He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.
You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.
'You're crazy about him.'
Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.
You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.
'And he's cazy about you too.'
Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.
That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.
The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."
You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"
"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.
"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.
She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."
Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-
Knock knock.
He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"
He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.
"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.
"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"
"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."
Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.
You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."
"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."
You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"
"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"
The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."
He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.
He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.
The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.
This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.
"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.
"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.
Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.
"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.
"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.
Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.
He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.
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3K notes · View notes
zibermuda · 7 months ago
ego killer (1) | jjk
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Summary — Campus fuck-boy and notorious flirt can’t keep his eyes off you, but you’re unfazed by his remarks. That all changes when he takes it too far at a party and you’ve officially had enough. 
Genre — smut (e2l, fuck-boy!jk, nerdy!reader)
Words — 11,292
Warnings — unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), tongue fucking, deep dicking, dirty talk, thigh riding, fingering, tongue sucking, breath play, biting, licking, hair pulling, hickeys, jks dad is an asshole, mentions of abuse and alcohol consumption, swearing
one | two | three/final
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masterlist || request
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Just as you’re convinced your day couldn’t possibly get any worse, an unwelcome student decides to pull up the seat next to you. Out of every other chair in this one-hundred-plus lecture theatre, Jeon Jungkook just has to sit here. He’s the notorious campus fuck-boy, ladies’ man and everything else that comes with looking like that; dark, wavy hair, pretty eyes, and body proportions out of this world. You won’t deny that he’s attractive, but looks like that only cause trouble and you have a squeaky-clean reputation to maintain. 
“Morning, gorgeous.” He gazes at your face as he awaits a response, but you decide it’s in your best interest to ignore him.
Huge mistake!
Your silence ignites something in him and he makes it his mission to get some kind of reaction. Anything. Maybe a little smile, a laugh, or even a classic eye-roll.
“Playing hard to get. I like it.”
This is so very like him. If he’s not on the receiving end of attention, he convinces himself that there’s an ulterior motive. Your reasoning; you hate him with your whole mind, body, and soul, and you couldn’t give a flying fuck about his shallow compliments, OR if he’s nearing 6ft, OR if he’s the president of multiple social, theatre, and fitness clubs, AND has the record for the highest number of members in a non-educational club! No, you couldn’t care less!
Out of the handful of ridiculous names he’s given his clubs, one has been titled ‘GAINS’ — Gym and Important Nutrition Society. Classic, right? But, despite the negative feelings you have toward him and everything else he does, other students seem to love him. His toned biceps and thick thighs make a very compelling ‘join us’ statement, too.
In contrast and in the good name of education, you formed a marketing club and handed yourself the president badge. And, ever since then, you’ve been doing your bit as an official influencer to students who actually want to learn something from college.
“I can see your panties, by the way.” He adds and you want to drop dead from humiliation. Scratch that. You want to send a pencil through his eye socket for being such a pervert!
An embarrassed heat threatens to crawl up the side of your neck at his observation. Your skirt isn’t even that short! He’s just a boy with a huge ego, eager eyes and a dirtier mouth. But, to save yourself from further humiliation, you tug the fabric down your thighs and tightly cross your legs until the circulation of blood in your legs becomes a little unbalanced. 
“Hey, I wasn’t complaining. You’re hot as hell.” His eyes wander down the length of your bare legs. It’s so obvious that he’s checking you out. He’s practically leaning all the way back in his chair to get a good look. “Even if you wear Hello Kitty panties.”
Oh my god! Please shut the fuck up!
He’s a nuisance for the rest of the lecture; bantering with nearby students, etching explicit imagery on the desk with the tip of a pen, and doodling on the corner of your page when you’re too busy looking up front to notice. The only time you pay him any real mind is when he taps his sneaker against your ankle. He apologises with a small smile each time, but he’s definitely doing it on purpose. 
It doesn’t stop there. He keeps it up for many more days, which makes for a hellish week. You can barely tolerate lectures with this man-child actively scoping you out through the crowd of students just to sit next to you. It doesn’t even matter if the seat next to you already has an occupant. He just asks them to move. It’s humiliating.
It doesn’t stop there, either. Jungkook always finds a way to annoy you, whether it be copying your notes, going into extreme detail about his previous evening (who even has that much sex?) or (by far his favourite) dragging his eyes down the length of your legs. It doesn’t even matter that you’ve now opted for ill-fitted jeans. He’s already seen your legs and he knows they’re somewhere under all that denim.
“You partying tonight?” He slaps a bendy ruler against his thigh out of sheer boredom. There’s less than twenty minutes left of class. Just ignore him. “You’d look good in a bikini.”
Out of all the ludicrous things he’s said to you over the past week, this one sits relatively high on the list. So, it’s practically impossible to not shift your eyes and send a glare his way. He’s dressed in slightly baggy plaid pants, a black shirt and a denim jacket. If it weren’t for his crazy aura of confidence, he probably wouldn’t be able to make the outfit work.
“Cute.” He smiles at your less-than-intimidating expression.  
Calling you ‘cute’ is something he does painstakingly often; when you frown and your nose scrunches a little, when you change up the font in which you take notes, and especially when you rest your chin against your palm. It's all very cute to him.
Today is Friday, which means a notorious campus party will take place later tonight. Campus parties occur on the regular and are organised by a different faculty each week. The Science Faculty organised last week’s rendezvous, but it didn’t exactly follow community guidelines. Science students dumped a fuck-ton of urine-indicator dye in the swimming pool to weed out the pool-pissers, set off a dozen fireworks down the dormitory hallway, and painted a few doors with glow-in-the-dark paint. Fortunately, nobody was injured, but a few were embarrassed by the piss detection and others were annoyed at their glowing door. Generally, you try to stay out of it.
“Come on, Hello Kitty.” He leans his elbow on the desk and watches you watch him. You hadn’t cared to notice it before, but he has a tattoo of a eucalyptus leaf running down the side of his hand. “You don’t wanna talk to me?”
He can keep prying all he wants, but you’re not going to entertain him. He’ll get bored eventually. That's generally how the mind of a child works.
If you're not spending your time sat in the library, reading romance novels, or sipping on flavoured water, you're lingering in the Student Guild. So, that’s exactly where you head after said class from hell. Within the building are a variety of pop-up food and drink stands, but your go-to is the fruit juice stand, mainly because the guy who runs it is invested in hearing your rants and handing out advice like he’s fifty years older than you. He’s not. He graduated only last year.
“Give me the strongest drink you have.” You slap your palms against the counter and breathe a deep sigh of exhaustion. "I'm in dire need."
“Well.." Seokjin, said 50-year-old-but-21-year-old-graduate, rummages around in a crate full of fresh fruit and vegetables. He seems to enjoy his side-job, but you would be bored to death if you had to stick fruit in a blender for hours on end. "..Pineapple juice should do the trick."
Your eyes wander from the produce to the nearby green, where Jungkook is bantering and being obnoxiously loud with his friends. They've scuffed the grass by purposely digging their heels into the earth and by tackling each-other to the ground.
If there's one thing to note about Jungkook and his ridiculous lineup of friends, it's that they have zero filter or respect for private property. Many, many stories have been tossed around campus depicting their idiotic rendezvous; spraying the chancellors office door with silly string, leaving an entire roast chicken in one of the boys toilets, and even climbing on top of the campus clock tower at fuck-o-clock in the morning.
Jungkook isn't the brightest student, but he did try to best (to an extent) to get into college. His problem is apparent; he got in, so he stopped putting in effort and resorted to turning in half-assed papers. If he doesn't pull his head out of his ass, he won't be graduating with any of those friends.
"Let me guess." Seokjin grabs an entire pineapple and throws it in the blender. Skin and all. "Tense stance and jaw, wide eyes, clenched fists.. You're thinking of Jungkook?"
"Aren't you supposed to cut the skin off?" You ask with a frown. 
"Precisely." He closes the lid and slams his palm on the plastic to ensure that it’s sat on tightly. "But, it's green and nutrients comes from green stuff. I'm sure it'll taste just fine."
Seokjin feels like he should exercise his duty of care and disclose every single detail about Jungkook. After all, he’s not as simple as everyone thinks he is. Nobody is. How can you possibly know what anyone is thinking at any given moment?
“You should be careful, by the way.” He adds as you’re glaring at the noisy group of boys. “He's complicated beyond belief."
"Complicated? In what way?"
"Mega daddy issues. Probably doesn't know how to treat a woman at all."
"I thought he lived on campus."
"Nah, he started that rumour so he wouldn't have to give out information on his family life."
"How do you know any of this?"
Seokjin sticks a straw and an umbrella in the juice before offering it to you. The colour is a slime green and doesn’t look appetising in the slightest. "I know a lot of things. Plus, I talk with the staff of this place. You’d be surprised what they’ll do for a coffee and a chocolate muffin."
You take a leisurely sip of the pineapple drink and savour the strange taste on your tongue. It’s a bit gritty, but it tastes alright. 
“Swirl it all around your mouth to get the full effect.” He nods toward the cardboard cup. “That’s what Mother Nature’s pussy tastes like.” 
“Charming. It’s definitely waking me up.”
“Good. That means you’ll have the energy to be at tonights party.” 
College parties aren’t college parties if a handful of graduates don’t join and encourage stupid and reckless behaviour. Seokjin isn’t that reckless, though. He usually stands by the table of drinks and internally rates peoples outfits. He works part-time at an accounting firm, so he’s become accustomed to categorising everything and anything that comes his way. 
Word has already spread in various group chats and through questionable emails sent by monitored student emails; the Business School students have had this weeks party baton handed to them. What could they possibly muster up? You might be thinking; a civil get-together at a local community hall, maybe a party in a wild flower field, or even a wine tasting event filled with discussions of the law and its loopholes. Nope! Persuading the sport staff to 'forget' to lock up the campus swimming pool is shockingly easy, and law students are pretty fucking good at being persuasive. 
“No, I can’t go. I have a date with Netflix.”
“Taehyung’s going.” 
And, that, ladies and gentlemen, is all that it takes for you to head back to your dormitory, throw on a bikini top, and add a little more mascara to your eyelashes. 
Kim Taehyung; the backbone of this campus, the star quarterback, the man behind symmetry, and your crush (five months going strong!). You can’t help but turn into an awkward, puberty-ridden pre-teen whenever he’s around. He once said ‘hey’ to you during a class and you responded with a very blunt ‘goodbye.’ And, despite your ever-growing crush, you've not done much to attract his attention. Your idea of dressing up is cuffing your jeans and tightening the laces of your sneakers. 
At 7:38PM, you make your way to the aquatic centre after spending an hour tinkering with your shorts and other externalities that nobody actually cares about. It’s not hard to locate — the blaring music and the crowd of drunk students are both a good indicator. The pool is 25 meters in length and lit by alternating rainbow LED lights, and a handful of students have already submerged in the water. You won't become one of them, you note. Swimming with a bunch of drunken students isn't your thing, nor is getting hypothermia. 
Cautiously, you sit yourself on the edge of the pool and dip your feet into the water. It's fucking freezing, but it cools off your hot skin and does an alright job at easing your racing thoughts. 
Why did you come, again? Oh, right. Kim Taehyung! He's nowhere to be seen. You've ran your eyes over every corner of this venue, but his broad shoulders haven’t greeted your eyes yet. What if he's not coming? This would be such a waste of time. Hang on a minute. Why are you revolving your night around some guy who probably doesn't even know your last name? God. Maybe you are an awkward, pre-teen with a big, fat, unreciprocated crush..
You're way too immersed in your own head to pay attention any other person, but someone has absolutely noticed you. For the sake of this story, it's none other than Jeon Jungkook. He’d previously been splashing water at his friends and play fighting; holding each-others heads underwater until someone taps out. It's madness and a recipe for homicide. 
You look good to him — you may look like a loner with a fear of water — but, you look so fucking good. Maybe it's the way your thighs are pressed up against the concrete, or the way the fabric of your bikini clings to your tits. Jungkook is a simple man. He sees a pretty girl; he wants her on his lap. He sees a great pair of tits; he wants them in his mouth. ‘Dirty’ doesn’t begin to describe the thoughts that linger in his mind. ‘Filthy’ is a lot closer, but not close enough. 
"Fancy seeing you here." He runs his fingers through his damp hair and lingers by your dangling feet. And, despite your bikini top being less than revealing, he proceeds to drag his eager eyes over the exposed skin. "I told you you'd look good in a bikini."
His body is exactly what you'd expect; completely athletic, toned to the core, and kissed many times by the sun. His skin is a golden honey tone all over and it makes you wonder what the fuck he wears (or doesn't wear) when he's out in the sun.
You're not sure whether to splash water at his face, literally drown him, or just roll your eyes and ignore him like you usually would. The latter seems like the safest bet, so you do just that.
“Loosen up, Hello Kitty.”
“Stop calling me that!”
He likes the sound of your voice. It’s evident by the shift in his expression and he way he slides his hands closer to your thigh. You can see the entirely of his tattoo now that his hands are resting on the concrete. Ink suits his skin, but that doesn’t make him any less of an idiot. 
“Hello Kitty.” He repeats only because you told him not to. That's just who he is and how he rolls. If somebody told him not to eat a rock, he would simply take a bite out of it. "Such a pretty kitty."
The eye-roll you produce has the potential to be in the ‘top 5 eye-rolls of all time.’ Any average person would take the hint, but Jungkook isn’t any average person. He’s 80% ego, 13% thick thighs, and 7% of the funds contributed to the local bingo residency hall. Yup, you read that right. When he’s bored of throwing toilet paper at peoples houses and pissing in mailboxes, he mingles with a group of retired elderly ladies. Flirts, if you will. Nobody knows why, but everybody knows he does it. 
"Haven't you got laps to swim or something?"
"I wanna swim laps in you."
"Genuine question: has that ever worked before?" You ask over the blaring music. "You have major issues."
“I see a pretty girl..” His eyes wander your figure with very little shame and it takes him a moment or two to return back to yours. His irritating addition follows in suit. "..And, I wanna make her mine.”
"That's a bad habit."
"You're a bad habit."
"Seriously? What are you? Nine?"
"Inches, yeah." You walked right into that one. “Wanna find out later?” 
You could spend your time glaring at him while he grins back, or you could stand up and head toward the wobbly table of drinks. There’s not much choice, though; copious amount of vodka and lemonade to chase it down. Students bring whatever alcohol they can find in their parents house or hidden in their dormitory closets. There’s not much to bring, though, because most students have to take a shot after writing an introduction to an essay.
Water droplets drip down his bare chest and it makes it near impossible for you to come up with another insult. How can someone that hot be such a fucking dick? It’s a very disappointing combination. 
Just as you open your mouth to say something worth your while, a stranger takes a seat next to you. Only, this symmetrical man with golden blonde hair is no stranger to you. This man is Kim Taehyung and his arm is now slung over your shoulder like he’s an old friend from middle school. Relax! Be cool!
“Annoying, right?” Taehyung nods toward a blasé looking Jungkook before returning his gaze toward your wide eyes. You feel like you could melt just from his pretty eyes, let alone from his touch. “He’s like a little puppy. Always begging for attention.”
Jungkook scoffs at the blatant jab. They’re not close friends, but they’re both extroverts beyond belief. Sparking up conversation is a trait that should be typed up on their resume. They’re professionals. “Speak for yourself.” 
And, with that, Jungkook splashes a little water at your bare thighs and heads back to his friends, where he continues to drown them. Once again, madness. 
In the meantime, Taehyung sparks up harmless conversation with you. He asks about college, your family, and even asks to compare hand sizes. It’s the most you’ve ever spoken, but it’s the best conversation you’ve ever had in your nineteen years of life. The entire interaction makes your head foggy and stuffs your insides with butterflies. He makes you laugh, he compliments you, and he doesn’t shy away from touching your hand or slinging his arm over your shoulder. You’re not sure what you did to warrant such attention, but you’d be a fool to complain about a single thing. 
Jungkook has been keeping an eye on the interaction and he catches the way Taehyung’s eyes dart to your lips when you speak. You, on the other hand, are too busy trying to avoid eye contact like a shy school-girl to realise. You’ve spent the past twenty minutes staring at your feet and throwing Taehyung the odd glance here and there. He finds it cute, but so does Jungkook. But, he wants you to be doing this dumb shit with him, not with Taehyung. He saw you first.
If Jungkook’s spider senses are right (they’re definitely tingling), then Taehyung has plans of hooking up with you tonight. That can’t happen on his watch. You’re like a rare gem and he wants to be the one to taint you, not quarterback Taehyung with two perfect parents and an even better GPA. Jungkook called dibs a long time ago, which is precisely why he wanders over to put a stop to whatever mischievous plan Taehyung has brewing. There will be no sex, no kissing, and no more flirting!
“You’re really pretty.” Taehyung says with a dashing smile contorting his mouth. “We should hang out more.” 
And, right on cue, he places a hand on your chin and tilts your face toward his. Your heart is in your throat at this point. Your dream man is about to kiss you. This cannot be happening, but it is. You can smell a little alcohol on his breath, but it’s the best thing you’ve ever smelled. His lips are inching closer and closer, his eyes are fluttering shut, it’s about to happen—
"Alright, love-birds." Jungkook slides his hand down the gap between your faces to put a hold to the kiss before it even has the chance to begin. You feel like you’ve just been edged. You feel like somebody has just taken away an essential organ. "Let's wrap it up!"
“What’s your problem?!” You raise your voice until it towers over the background music. Taehyung definitely doesn’t expect you to be so angry over this, even though you’ve always been a little strange whenever he’s had the chance to speak to you in the past. “Why do you keep ruining everything?!”
Jungkook grins at your discomfort and it sends you completely overboard. He doesn’t care about anything and it pisses you off so much. He has no regard for other people and it makes you want to sock him in the mouth as hard as you possibly can. But, you’re not the type to resort to physical violence, so you resort to your words. When used right, those are just as much of a weapon as your fists. 
“Really? You’re just gonna smile like an idiot?” 
“Yeah, it’s funny.” Jungkook taps the tip of your nose and smiles a little wider when you slap his hand away with a frown contorting your face. You’re so cute to him. He loves annoying you. “Don’t be so angry, Hello Kitty. It doesn’t suit you.” 
Taehyung isn’t as bothered as you are. He could kiss anyone he wants tonight, so this is nothing more than a small loss in his championship. Hey, there’s always next Friday! He already knows that his new-found interest in you is only because Jungkook is somehow interested, too. Whatever Jungkook wants, Taehyung will steal it right from his grasp. 
“I hate you so much!”
“I think you’re in love with me.” 
“You’re so full of yourself!”
The pair of you go back and forth bickering like an old, married couple until he drives you over the edge completely with an unnecessary innuendo. 
“Did you just say you wanna be full of me?”
“I’m not going to sleep with you!” You yell a little too abruptly. A lot of the party attendees are looking your way and muttering among themselves about the strange ordeal. Sure, many girls have yelled at Jungkook for being a dickhead after a one-night-stand, but none have yelled at him without having had sex. It’s intriguing. “You’ve slept with every fucking girl on campus and each of them know just how much of a dickhead you are! The only reason you still get laid is because you’re easy!”
Jungkook is still grinning, but his mind is wandering to a completely different place. Yeah, he’s slept with a lot of girls, and yeah, most have told him how much of a dick he is for cutting them off right after. What about it? 
“A toy!” You add with an unprecedented bitterness in your tone. “You’re a toy that girls like to use! Haven’t you noticed? You think you have every girl wrapped around your finger, but you’re so fucking wrong!” 
Your words hurt him more than he ever imagined they would, but he doesn’t know why. He feels like he’s just been asked to recite the Pythagorus Theorem with the way his mind is blanking and trying to cling onto something that makes even the slightest bit of sense. You’re smart, so he relies on copying your notes in class. You’re smart, so maybe you’re right about him and his outcast status on campus. He’s never felt this way before. It’s odd. It doesn’t feel nice.
Jungkook looks at you and then he looks around at all the bystanders. None of them look sympathetic in the slightest. In fact, a lot of them are nodding to one-another and enforcing your bitchy words. He has a reputation and everybody knows him by it. They don’t know him any deeper than that.
His expression shifts to one of confusion and he walks away with his head low and his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He feels totally humiliated for the first time in his life and he doesn’t like the feeling at all. 
“That was a bit mean.” Taehyung notes, but he doesn’t truly care. He’s just here for the show. He couldn’t give two fucks about Jungkook. The two of them have never seen eye to eye. 
You nibble on your bottom lip and slowly start to regret everything you just screamed in anger. You want to gather all of those words and stuff them back in your mouth, but you can’t. You’ve really gone and done it now. You’ve managed to upset to most un-upsettable boy on campus. Congrats! 
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Jungkook doesn't sit next to you during lectures or annoy you like he usually would. He doesn't even look in your direction anymore. He seems like a completely different person, but he's not. He's just hurt and you've never experienced a hurt Jungkook before. You didn't even think he had the capabilities of feeling anything other than horny and a gym pump. Oh, how wrong you were and how awful of you to convince yourself that he doesn't feel as deeply as others. That was your first mistake. 
You feel horrible and you desperately want to apologise and clear this entire thing up. That has been exceedingly difficult, though, because he always leaves class a few minutes early to avoid you. He even stops showing up to parties just to lessen the chance of running into you. This madness continues for almost two weeks, and during that time, you type up at least twelve apology letters. None of them are good enough.
You can’t just send him an email. You doubt he’s ever checked his emails in his entire life. No, you need to put on a brave face and talk to him in person. But, it’s 9:31PM right now and his whereabouts is completely unknown to you. 
Someone ought to know where he is, right? Your theory is validated once you poke your head out of your dorm-room and ask two girls who are gossiping about something insignificant in the hallway. Their confident reply is ‘the gym’, so you muster up the courage to head there in the darkness of the evening.
Right by the entrance is a vending machine full of protein shakes and snacks, so you decide on getting him one. What’s an apology without a cheap gift? With a chocolate protein shake in hand and a fast-paced heart, you push open the doors of the gym and wander around like a lost child in a supermarket. It’s completed deserted. Of course it is! It’s nearing 10PM. But, one body with a head of dark, tousled hair is working the lat machine; Jungkook. He's tugging on the bar like he’s training to get the biggest back muscles in the world. He's definitely on his way there.
“Hey.” You clear your throat before speaking any further. “I got you this. It’s chocolate.”
“I don’t drink milk.” He says mid-pull, but his voice doesn’t hold the usual playfulness you’re conditioned to. You’ve officially pissed him off. “And, I don’t like chocolate.”
You frown at the blatant lie. “But, I saw you skull an entire carton of chocolate milk this morning.”
“Go away, Y/N.” His back muscles constantly flex through his white, sweat-slick shirt. It’s quite mesmerising. “Haven’t you got an essay to write or something? Miss goody two shoes."
The bench he’s seated at is long enough for a person to rest their back on and perform bench presses, so you take a seat at the very edge and fiddle with the chocolate shake. “Jungkook, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I was angry and I was very wrong.”
“Don’t care.”
“And, I do think you’re hot.” You add in hopes it’ll persuade him further. “The hottest guy I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t care.” He repeats. “I don’t need you telling me what I already know.”
Alright. That doesn’t feel great. You now have an idea of how he felt all those days he spent hitting on you, only to receive a glare and an eye-roll in return. 
There has to be something else you can say that’ll redeem you. You can’t believe the chocolate milk hasn’t cut it, though. What's something that he really likes? Something he can't resist even if he tried?
"We can hang out, if you want. Y'know.. Get drunk and do something crazy."
"No, thanks."
Seriously? That had been his only agenda ever since he stepped foot in college. There has to be something else, but you can't think of what. You don’t know anything about the gym, about soccer, or about swimming teams. But then, your mind runs over every conversation you've ever had with him until something prominent sticks out. Hello Kitty.
“I’m wearing Hello Kitty panties.”
Out of everything that could come out of your mouth, he definitely wasn’t expecting that, which is precisely why the bar slips from his fingers and pings against the upper metal of the machine. A little perplexed and a little more horny, he then turns to you and drags his gaze from your thighs to your eyes. It makes your heart race and your head slightly foggy. “Oh, really? Prove it.”
“This is a public space.”
“That didn't stop you from ripping into me the other day."
"You pissed me off!" You retort with an accidental eye-roll. "You kept cock-blocking the entire night!"
"Cock-blocking." He repeats with growing amusement. "You think Taehyung's gonna fuck you?"
"I think I have a chance, yeah."
"That's really funny considering you're in here offering to show me your panties."
He's got you trapped in a really tight fucking corner. Fuck, does he think you're pathetic now? Are you that inexperienced and attention deprived that you'd feel no regret in flirting with more than one guy at a time? Was this his plan all along? To make you sink to rock bottom just for this very opportunity? The chances of that are below zero, you know that, but your mind won’t stop racing. He’s so fucking hot. You already know that. You’ve known that from day one, but there’s something exceedingly sexy about the way he’s looking at you right now. His brown eyes are so pretty, but they’re filled with a desire for you. 
"Show me, then." He leans closer to see how you'll react. Evidently, you're way to caught up in your racing thoughts and the new-found throbbing between your thighs to put a stop to this madness, so he moves close enough until his lips graze against your own. It’s a new sensation for the both of you. He might just eat you alive if you keep looking at him like that; like a good girl that’ll do anything he asks of you. "If someone gets to fuck you, it's gonna be me."
And, then he kisses you. It lacks any and all romantic qualities, but isn't lacking in tongue and lewd hand placement on your inner thigh. It's the most passionate kiss you've ever shared in your entire life, and when he pulls away, you're left breathless and wanting so much more. 
"Come on, pretty kitty. Be nice to me for once." He says lowly with those eyes trained on yours. "I'll fuck you whenever you want. It'll be our little secret."
Why the fuck are you actually considering having sex with Jungkook? He’s the guy you've despised since day one and the guy who has slept with most of the population. Also, why are you falling for his charms and the way he looks into your eyes? He knows what he's doing, but you don't. You’re so attracted to him right now and you can’t stop the feeling. Is it because the two of you are alone and he’s being a lot more intimate than he would during a lecture? 
"Whenever I want?" You ask so quietly, it might as well be a whisper. 
That's when he knows he has you right where you're supposed to be. "However you want. Can I touch you right now?"
The small nod of confirmation is all he needs to run two fingers along his tongue before dipping them beneath the waistband of your jeans. Never in a million years did you think you'd become one of those students; one who has no respect for the public and is willing to have sex in the literal campus gym. This can't be hygienic. This can't be safe, either. What if someone walks in and sees you sitting here with his hand down your pants and his lips on your neck? You'd never live it down. You might just die from embarrassment.
"Wait.." You put a stop to his fingers before they have the chance to run underneath your panties. It takes a lot of strength to do that. "Can we do this somewhere else?"
Somewhere else: in a private space, completely away from any lingering eyes, and away from the threat of being caught. You’re not completely void of morals and self respect. 
He doesn't complain at the request. In fact, all he does is follow you back to your dormitory while pinging your bra against your skin and placing goosebump-inducing kisses against the side of your neck. 
When you reach your dorm-room, the story shifts completely and he's quick to return his tongue to your mouth and place his hands on your ass. He’s wanted to do that for so long. The kiss is filthy, but it feels so fucking good. It’s slow, but saliva-dominated and led entirely by his tongue. It ignites everything in you, but, most importantly, arousal. He’s the best guy you’ve ever kissed in your life, but it’s not like you have a long history of candidates. His tongue knows exactly where to lick and he even takes your bottom lip between his teeth to elicit a reaction. 
His shirt comes off somewhere during the heated make-out session and your fingers find refuge raking through his soft hair. And, when he runs his hand up your hips and takes the fabric of your own shirt with him, you break the kiss to look down at yourself. That’s when it hits you; you’re about to be completely naked in front of him. You can’t help but feel timid. He’s definitely seen prettier girls with prettier bodies than you. 
"That shy girl shit is overrated." His voice is oozing with sex. He wants to prove that he wants you and he does by taking your hand and running your fingers down his pecs, down his defined abdomen, and then against the prominent outline of his cock straining against his sweatpants. "I want you so bad."
He means it and you believe him, but the lingering shyness doesn’t fade. He tugs off your shirt, unzips your jeans, and stands back to get a good look at you. It does nothing to help out your shyness. If anything, it makes it worse.
You’re wearing cotton panties with a cutesy Hello Kitty artwork printed on the front, and he really, really wants to fuck you so hard because of it. He can’t stop imagining the way you’d look if he were to run his cock against your face, but that’s for another day. He has a strong feeling that one night won’t be enough time with you. 
“You’re so fucking sexy.” With finesse, he pushes your back onto the mattress and reaches underneath you for the clasp of your bra. Surprise, surprise; he’s a fucking expert at taking it off. 
Maybe tonight will be the best sex you’ve ever had. Confidence plays such a huge roll in sex and he’s literally dripping in it. You’re definitely dripping in something, but it’s not confidence. He has an unprecedented amount of sex appeal, especially when he holds eye-contact, leans over you, and lets you look at his toned body. He knows he’s hot and he knows that his muscles flex with each one of his movement. He’s built every single muscle on his body to perfection and it’s so fucking hard to not get a good look. His biceps, thighs, pecs, abs. You could probably get off just by looking. 
"Such a good girl.” He takes his time as he runs his hands from your throat down to your hips. Everything about your body is a stimulant. He has imagined how you would look naked more times than he can count, but the real thing is so much better. “So pretty all the time, baby. You turn me on all the time.” 
He drags his tongue up your naval before wrapping his lips around your nipple and swirling his tongue around your skin. And, with ease and confidence, he dips his fingers beneath your cotton panties to run his digits against your clit. The double stimulation is something you've never had the pleasure of experiencing, but you’re totally happy that you’re feeling it now. 
As much as your sweet sounds turn him on, it makes him wonder how inexperienced you may be. He's not the type to fuck virgins. It's too much of a hassle and there's a part of him that feels regret to be somebody's first. He doesn't want attachment. No strings at all. 
"Have you been touched before?" He halts the movements of his fingers.
"Yes." You’re breathless already. You want to beg for him not to stop, but you contain yourself. 
"Don't lie." He tugs you further down the mattress and grins a little at your bewildered expression. "I haven't done anything yet and you’re already gonna come."
"I've been touched!" You retort with a bit more defence than you’d intended. "Just.. not like this."
"Have you been fucked?" He leans down to capture your lips in a filthy kiss, and as he pulls away, you’re left breathless and your mouth is left missing the finesse of his tongue.
"Not like this." His words are laced with cockiness, but it isn’t a lie. He doesn’t fuck you at first, though. That’s too easy. He wants to touch your skin, to feel your arousal drip down your thighs and pool on his own skin. He wants to tease your pussy with his tongue, to suck on your clit until you come in his mouth. He wants to do it all, but his first act is to sit you on his lap, dig his fingers into your hips, and help you grind your pussy against his thigh until you’re panting and sinking your nails into his shoulders. His thigh does its rightful job of flexing and stimulating your clit, while his fingers wrap around your throat and his lips suck on your tongue. It’s a filthy sight; something you never thought you’d see yourself in, but it feels so fucking good. 
“Pretty girl.” He praises against your open lips. “Such a good girl.”
Your eyes are shut, your thighs are shaking, and pretty moans are slipping from your mouth and falling into his. He swears he’s never seen or heard anything so sexy, but he knows that you’ll come if he makes you do this any longer. So, he switches it up by returning you to the mattress, but in a completely different position that before. Ass up, face down; just how he likes it, just the right position to fuck you as deeply as humanly possible. 
"Pretty kitty." He praises before licking a harsh stripe from your clit to your lower back. The filthy act earns a whimper from your lips and a more intense throbbing in-between your thighs.. "I'm gonna destroy this pussy."
He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks like you’re his favourite candy and he doesn’t care if he gets toothache. You might as well be. You’re so sweet on his tongue. 
Your back immediately arches and a deep moan falls from your lips at the feeling of his tongue swirling around your clit. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before and once he adds his fingers to the mix, you repeat the same phrase in your head. This is absolutely like nothing you’ve ever felt before.
He runs his fingers along your folds before pushing one deep inside of your pussy until his palm rubs against your clit; all while lapping up your arousal and nipping on your inner thighs with his teeth. He loves it when your thighs shake and when your moans turn into whines. He could come just by the sound. 
After all is said and done, he trails his tongue along your skin and leaves a deep love-bite beside the dimple of your back; a good reminder that he was here and nobody has ever made you feel this way. And, then he teases his cock against your sensitive entrance before sinking into you until his lower abdomen hits the top of your bare ass. A deep groan falls from his lips at the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him. He swears on his life that he’s never felt a pussy like this. 
His fingers run from your lower back to the back of your head, where he takes your hair in his hand. Someone could walk in right now and you wouldn’t ask him to stop. This sex is beyond masturbation and beyond being fingered by a short-term boyfriend who you met in a marketing class in your first year. Way, way beyond. Jungkook fucks you deeper than you’ve ever known was possible, pays attention to your clit by reaching underneath you and rubbing against it with his fingers; all while tugging on your hair to keep you exactly where he wants you. You’re gonna come tonight. Jesus, fuck. You might come more than once tonight.
"Such a good girl, right?" His voice grows hoarse, but it’s still dripping profusely in lust. You've never heard anything so worthy of making your pussy tighten. "What would Taehyung say if he saw you like this?" 
He's fucking you with such strength that you can't seem to muster up the power to verbalise a response. All you can comprehend is the sound of his own stuttering breath, the sound of his skin hitting yours, and your own moans as they tumble from your lips. Your mouth remains ajar and your own saliva has started pooling at your chin. It's definitely a sight to behold. You don’t even want to imagine what anyone would say upon seeing this. Jungkook knows exactly what he wants to say. He knows what he wants to hear, too. 
“Come on, answer me.” He tightens his grip on your hair and tilts your head to the side to put his tongue in your mouth. It takes your breath away. And, when he pulls away, a string of saliva connects both of your lips his lips. “Your voice turns me on.” 
"Mad." You manage to breathe out in-between pitchy whines. Your fingers grip onto your bed-sheets with each of his thrusts. "He'd be—  Oh, fuck! Mad!"
"Yeah? Cause I get to tear this tight pussy open and he doesn't?"
You’ve never heard anything so filthy in your entire life, but you’ve also never been fucked so well in your entire life. This is exactly why you feel no shame in drooling like a kitten and moaning out his name each time he sinks back into you. His moans are a stimulant in themselves and make you tighten your walls around his cock each time. It’s a constant cycle. 
The sex lasts so long to the point where you began to forget that you actually exist. All you know is that you’re on your third orgasm and your thighs won’t stop shaking. Your skin is sore, your scalp is sore, there are tears in your eyes, your throat is dry. He fucks you until you can’t take it anymore; all while muttering the filthiest shit you’ve ever heard. He fucks you until you’re on the verge of sobbing, and until his hips stutter and he pulls out to come on your lower back. 
As he looks at your fucked-out body beneath him, he knows for certain that he wants to do this again. That was the tightest pussy he’s ever had the honour of fucking and he swears he’s never come that quick during sex before. "We could make this a thing, y'know."
"A thing?" You repeat, a little uneasy. You’re surprised you can even speak. 
"Yeah.” He confirms as he reaches for the box of tissues sat atop your bed-side table. He does his part in wiping his cum from your lower back and running his hands along your sore skin. His touch is comforting. “I'll fuck you whenever you want, and in return, you'll help me pass my units."
That might sound like a jolly good idea in his mind, but it rings some alarms in yours. You see, you’re a hopeless romantic with dreams of a beautiful, white wedding and three little children. He, on the other hand, doesn’t know what it is to be in a committed relationship. He never has. 
"Is that such a good idea?" You gather the remaining strength in you to shuffle onto your side. Your body feels like it needs sixty hours of rest to recover. But, respectfully, that was the best sex you think you’ll ever experience in your life. Why should you deprive yourself of more of it? "I mean.. What if one of us catches feelings? It’s possible.."
"You're funny." He humours as he leans down to capture your mouth in yet another dirty kiss. Again, it leaves you breathless and wanting more. You want him to stay a little longer, but that’s not how he rolls. “I’ll text you.”
“But, you don’t have my number.”
“I’ve had your number since first year. Asked one of your friends for it.” 
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Jungkook cuts you a deal; on Thursday's, he fucks you until your thighs are red from his palm and until you tap out from exhaustion. And, in exchange, you help him get through his units. No love, no dating, no labels. 
However, once a week becomes too little. There's something about the way you look when you touches you; like you're completely wrapped up in him, like you’re not thinking of anyone else. It’s different to how his usual one-night stands pan out. It makes him feel different; seen, heard, shy almost. Almost. He’s definitely not shy when it comes to asking for you, though. He’ll be sitting on a bus filled with commuters and conservative elders, and will feel no shame in using voice-to-text to get his message across:
[20 November, 2:21AM]
[Jungkook]: wanna fuck?
[You]: ok
[23 November, 6:04PM]
[Jungkook]: wanna fuck
[You]: okay
[24 November, 10:46AM]
[Jungkook]: what the fuck is a credit and debit
[You]: page 26 of the textbook will tell you :)
[Jungkook]: thanks i wanna fuck you tho lol
He often studies the way your lips part as he runs his fingers down your sternum, and the way your breath stutters as he sinks into you. He finds it fucking frightening, but he sometimes avoids blinking just so he doesn’t miss you. You're such a good girl on the surface, but a girl he fucks hard behind closed doors. And, to put in plainly, he likes being the only one to know about your double sided life. Ruining you is fun for him, as is fucking you from the back while his fingers abuse your clit.
After all is said and done, teasing you about your underwear choice is a whole lot more fun. He likes the way you frown as he holds your discarded panties above his head so you can’t reach them. It’s fun to have sex with someone like you. But, it feels more intimate at times and that’s what scares him. You’re not supposed to look so pretty with his fingers or his cock in your mouth, and you’re definitely not supposed to look so pretty when you’re sat in the library with dark bags under your eyes and a pencil between your lips. 
Instead of kicking your ankle with his sneakers or stealing your pens to annoy you during lectures, he places his hand on your inner thigh, drapes his arm behind your chair, or leans in to whisper suggestive innuendos in your ear. Most students know that you’re sleeping together, but all of them know that it’ll never be anything more. Jungkook isn’t the type to catch feelings. He’s fucked the hottest girls on campus, but hasn’t ever offered anything more. 
Sometimes, you’re too busy with college work to meet up with him, and that makes him feel a little left out. You’re becoming his routine and he’s starting to feel out of place whenever he doesn’t see you. It’s a total head-fuck. 
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On a late Tuesday afternoon, Jungkook catches you as you’re reading a sickly-sweet romance novel in the library; Love In The Time of Cholera by García Márquez. His first reaction upon seeing you is to snatch the novel from your hands and read the first sentence out loud. 
“I have waited for this opportunity for more than half a century..” He plays out the dramatics by clutching his chest. “ repeat to you once again my vow of eternal fidelity and everla—.” 
You’ve fallen in a deep pit of humiliation at this point, so your next appropriate move is to snatch back the novel and stuff it deep within your bag. 
“Any sex in that book?” He grins and pulls up a seat next to you. “More importantly.. Have you touched yourself today?” 
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You’ve told me that before.” He leans closer to whisper the innuendo, but it’s not like he actually cares if others hear. It’s about the dramatics and the delivery of a flirty line. “Wanna hang out?”
“Hang out.” You repeat, a little whiplashed. “As in..?”
“As in hang out.” He fiddles with the zipper of your bag like an uneasy child. If there’s something to note about him, it’s that he’s not very good at sitting still. He wants to touch everything, to speak to everyone, and be in a constant state of i-gotta-do-something. “I feel like hanging out.” 
“Er— Yeah, okay. We can hang out.”
You’re not entirely sure what you expected, but it definitely wasn’t to be seated on a bus with him while he shows you his Smurfs’ village. He tilts his phone to the side and explains that Papa Smurf has asked him to grow twenty potatoes in exchange for three smurfberries. It’s all very perplexing, but it makes you realise just how simple this man truly is. He plays children’s phone games in his spare time, speaks with the elderly, and probably talks to any wildlife he comes across. These new realisations make you adore him. Sure, he may have zero filter and feels no regret in teasing you, but he’s genuinely a good guy. 
It takes forty seven minutes for the bus to reach the bus-stop you two get off at. You’ve never been in this neighbourhood before, but you’re glad that you’re here now. It’s ran by flora and fauna (rabbits and ducks, mostly) and the air is noticeably easier to breathe in. Little cottage-style houses stretch down the length of the windy roads and the third one from the bus-stop is the place he calls home. Vines have crawled up the walls and have completely overtaken the light coloured brick, the roof is dark and mossy, and the white paint on the casement windows have peeled back over the years. 
The interior of his house is like any other; there are random family photos hung on the wall, there’s a fruit-bowl on the kitchen counter (although, it’s empty), and various ‘live, laugh, love’ trinkets are sat on the living room cabinets. However, there are a fuck ton of empty beer bottles stacked up in the kitchen and the living room. It makes you wonder, but it’s not your place to pry into sensitive shit like that. 
Jungkook’s bedroom is nothing like you’d expect. Yeah, the walls may be grey and there may be discarded clothes on the floor, but his bookshelves are filled with various koala plushies, different sizes of the Australian map, kangaroo fridge magnets, and small emu figurines. You’ve counted over fifteen eucalyptus candles, and although none have been opened, the room still smells piney, minty, and sweet. 
“Don’t mind the mess.” He says as he picks up a lone shirt and tosses it on the end of his bed. 
“What’s with the Australian shrine?” 
“They’re gifts from my mom. She sends them too often.” 
"Is this her?" You run your finger along an intricate photo-frame that’s sat on his bedside table. The woman in the photo has a messy head of dark hair and a safari hat fastened underneath her chin. She looks like an unkept zoo keeper, but so happy and full of life.
"Yeah." He says plainly. "She moved to Australia to breed koalas after she divorced my dad. Haven't seen her in a while."
That’s a short summary of his moms history. Before she left the country, she ran a native animal sanctuary and was always filling up the house with various animal trinkets and memorabilia. They’re still placed around the house, but have long since gathered dust. She didn’t take much with her; just a passport, her favourite tennis shoes, and a small backpack full of plain clothes. 
“Oh, wow.. How long has she been gone?”
“Almost a year.”
“Is that why you have the eucalyptus tattoo?” You query. “For your mom?”
“You’re a little Einstein, aren’t you?”
When you turn to face him and reply with a witty remark, he kisses you. But, not roughly or dominated by tongue like he usually would. The kiss is slow and sweet, like he’s trying to drink you in. And, his hands cup your jaw to keep you just where he wants you. There’s something about the way you look into his eyes on most days; it makes him want to be gentle and vulnerable with you. He’s never felt that feeling before; like he wants to fuck the soul out of you, but also play with your hair and hold your hand. It’s a complete head-fuck, especially for someone as out-of-touch as himself. 
“What was that for?” You ask, a little breathless, after he breaks the kiss.
“Dunno.” He fibs. “Just felt like it.” 
And, then he kisses you again while his hands grip your waist and your own run through his soft hair. You don’t feel weird kissing him, now that he’s seen every inch of your skin and has heard every moan variation you’re physically capable of producing. You feel comfortable and it’s a nice feeling. 
But, then the front door slams and it makes you jump in fright. Is this one of his family members? You think to yourself. How are you supposed to introduce yourself? As his friend? Fuck-buddy? Study-buddy? Oh, fuck. 
“Is that your dad?” You query with wide eyes. 
“No.” He lies and he doesn’t know why he does. “Yes, it’s my dad.. Fuck. Can we go somewhere else?”
It then becomes apparent that you don’t need to introduce yourself. Why bother? His dad reeks of alcohol and you could practically smell it before he even walked in the house. A man in his late forties has stumbled down the hallway and propped himself up against the doorframe. They look so similar, it’s uncanny; black, wavy hair, honey skin, generous height, and an athletic frame. 
“Oh.” His dad blinks a few times in his drunken state. He’s dressed in an old leather jacket and paint-stained jeans. “Who’s the bitch?”
Jungkook sighs deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you knock before you come in? I’m busy.”
“This is my house!” His dad slurs in an awfully loud voice. “I’ll open any door I want!”
You don’t know what to do. You don’t feel so comfortable anymore. You’ve never had to experience a fight like this in your entire life, nor have you been in the same room as an aggressive drunk person. Maybe that’s why you’re so naive. 
Jungkook feels no fear in digging in his dad’s jeans for his car keys. He’s way too drunk to do any actual damage. If he were to swing at him, he’d just lose balance and tumble backward. But, knowing how to navigate an abusive dad is a skill that nobody should have to learn. That’s not what kids should have to learn.
With the bundle of house-keys in one hand, Jungkook uses the other to take your hand and escort you down the hallway, out the front door, and toward a busted truck parked on the driveway. Is he about to steal his dads truck? That’s not his truck, right? You don’t know what the fuck is going on, but you oblige without much hesitation when he tells you to get in the passenger seat. The interior is just as damaged as the exterior and cigarette butts have piled up in the cup holders. It makes you wonder if he smokes along with his dad, but you’ve never once tasted tobacco on his tongue, so you highly doubt it. 
“You ungrateful git!” Jungkook’s dad stumbles out of the front door and yells out as the truck swiftly reverses. The sheer volume and tone of his voice makes you jump in your skin, but Jungkook is completely unfazed. You wonder how often he’s had to hear it to become so accustomed. Again, this isn’t something a kid should have to learn to cope with. 
He stays silent for a lot of the drive; silently switching gears and tapping his thumb against the steering wheel. He’s wearing a deep frown and can’t stop nibbling on his bottom lip. He’s in deep thought. It makes you uneasy. You want to be in the loop, the hear him talk, but he doesn’t. At least, not for the first fifteen minutes. 
“I’m sorry.” He speaks once the truck stops at an intersection. His thumb is still fidgeting with the wheel, but not as reverently. “I didn’t think he’d be home so early.”
“Jungkook, it’s okay, really.” You lace your voice with everything that could ever be used to reassure a person. None of this is his fault. He didn’t purposely put you in harms way. He wouldn’t ever do that. 
Jungkook is quiet for the rest of the journey back to campus, and when he reaches the parking lot, he takes up two parking spots like madman. The parking warden is going to have a field day once she makes it to his truck in time to slap a hefty fine on the window shield. 
“He usually stays at the bar until midnight. Fuck, I’m sorry. It was dumb to bring you there.” 
“You don’t have to be embarrassed about your dad.”
“I’m not embarrassed.” 
“I can handle it, Jungkook.” You say with a hint of uncertainty hidden within your voice. Alright, maybe you can’t handle a lot, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to be there for him. “I just want to be your friend.” 
Something in him snaps at your offer and he instantly becomes defensive. Friends. To him, friends are people who get drunk together and text each-other sometimes. You’re not fit to be his friend. Weakness is not a trait he’s ever had to show anyone either, so it’s difficult to come to terms with unleashing it. What falls from his mouth next isn’t the truth, but he’s just so set on being the bigger person; whatever that means. 
“It’s none of your business, Y/N. You're just my toy..” His words hurt him more than they hurt you. He feels like a completely different person as he’s raining down on you; like his dad. “I fuck you like I love you, but I really don’t.”
His words cut like paper, but you know he’s enduring a lot more pain than he’s dishing out. He doesn’t mean it. He wouldn’t ever mean that. That’s not who he is. 
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that to me.” You dig in your pocket for a trinket before dangling the cutesy figure from your fingers. It’s a Hello Kitty charm hooked around a silver keychain. Pink, white, and yellow is the palette. The gesture is a lot more meaningful to him than you intend. It’s just a keychain, but it’s also something that he can carry around to remind him of you. You’re not his friend. His friends don’t do this. They don’t think about each-other like this or act selflessly for one-another. “I won this while I was at a carnival last year. I thought you might like it.” 
He looks at the figurine, but he doesn’t reach out to take it. He’s hesitant, but only because he thinks that he doesn’t deserve it. He thinks he doesn’t deserve you and can see it on his face, so you gently grab his wrist and place it in his hand. 
"If you want me." You begin with a firm tone. Good for you. "You can come and find me. I still want to be your friend."
He doesn't reply, and instead tightens his grip on the keyring while avoiding all intimate eye contact. You want to reach over and run your fingers through his hair and tell him that everything will turn out just fine, but you don’t. You want to take away all of his pain, but you can’t. It doesn’t work like that. Different situations call for different tactics. 
"Just.. give me back my textbook after you're done using it.” Is the last thing you say before hopping out of the truck and wandering deeper into campus. 
Jungkook sits in the truck with his eyes trained on the Hello Kitty keyring and his heart on his sleeve for the first time. 
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When he goes home that same night, he drinks until he throws up and allows himself to be consumed by the characteristics of his dad. It's not until he has nothing left in his stomach to throw up that he realises he doesn't want to be him. His dad has been the bane of his existence; always yelling, drinking, belittling, and being openly prejudiced toward strangers on the street.
Why have children if you won't love them? Why have children if you refuse to nurture and help them reach their potential? Why label yourself a father when you disown your child after each disagreement? The abuse, the power struggle, the hatred. Why call yourself a human at all?
Jungkook is a product of his childhood and for the longest time, had a fear of sudden, loud noises which stemmed from his dads constant yelling. And, although it took him many, many years to overcome his battle, he’s not any less of a worthy solider. 
His mom is a good woman regardless if she spends her days thousands of kilometres from her family. Every week without fail, she mails her son an envelope full of various Australian animal trinkets, photo cards, and images of her and her koalas. She constantly entertains the idea that he should come and live with her for a while. And, the way she describes the Australian heat and the blue oceans makes him consider doing just that. 
With the back of his head propped up against the bathroom cabinet and an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth, Jungkook dangles the Hello Kitty keychain in front his face and allows himself to smile at the thought of you. You've made him smile more in these past few weeks than he's ever genuinely smiled before. So much so that it feels like he steps into a completely different world whenever he's with you. Your smile can light up a room, your smartness astounds him, and although your dress sense isn't trendy in the slightest, he still likes how it looks on you.
You walk around like a mom with your cuffed jeans, slogan shirts and cardigans. You're so fucking lame, but he likes you so much. You're so fucking lame, but there's nobody else that he'd rather spend his time with. You make him feel seen, heard, that his issues aren’t irrelevant and it’s more than okay to talk about them. You’re his lifeline and he has the option of wrapping his arms around you instead of being still in the water and drowning. 
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Three days pass and although it pains him to keep away from you, he knows it’s in his best interest to do just that. He spends his time thinking, really thinking. Who does he want in his life right now? Why do you make him feel so good? Why does he feel a pain in his chest when you talk with other guys? Why does he only think of you when he touches himself? And, why does he think of you even when he’s not touching himself? And, then it hits him when he least expects it. Literally. He’s walking back to his house from the bus-stop when he realises that he likes you more than a friend. He wants you and he wants more than your body. He wants to hear every detail of your day, your laugh, to kiss you just because he can, to commit to you. To love you. He can’t wait to fall in-love with you. It excites him more than anything he’s ever felt before. It’s then that he does a full 180 and hops back on the bus to make the forty seven minute journey back toward campus. 
It’s 4:29PM. You’re in the library with a cloudy head and a cramped-up hand from writing so much nonsense for one of your assignments. You couldn’t be in a worse mood right now. Jungkook is ignoring you, so you can’t concentrate, and because you can’t concentrate, you can’t finish this assignment, and because you can’t finish this assignment, you can’t get a good grade for the unit.
Holy shit.
Your life was so, so simple two months ago. This entire situation has made you realise that you’re not a side character and you’ve always had the option of befriending anyone of your choice, even Jungkook. That’s generally how life goes. It’s brought on more bad than it has good, though, and that’s what hurts you so much. You never want to be the reason for somebody’s tears.
But, just as you think that your day couldn't possibly shift in mood, a stranger decides to pull up the seat next to you. Only, this person is no stranger to you. You could recognise that dark hair and honey skin from a mile away.
Jungkook lays the side of his face against your lap and closes his eyes. He doesn’t care how it may look to the conservative librarians or to other students. He just wants to lay here and feel your hands run through his hair and the pads of your fingers stroke his skin.
"Found you." He mutters, earning a small smile from your lips. But, he doesn’t say what he thought he had the courage to say. Instead, he just lays here and hopes that you feel what he does. 
"I didn't make it that difficult."
Thanks for reading! 
permanent taglist (for all of my works) — @zeharilisharaban @ayumimegami @philostuff @carolsummerlove @piaesthetic @viokook @bangtan-serendipity @kookie-monsteur @codeinebelle @omot7 @jeon-ggukkie @prdshobi @kookoo-kachoo @goldenlilyz @chiminies-noona @seolaryj @fancycollectormoon @she-is-dreaming
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venusiangguk · 5 months ago
the art of wanting | jjk (m)
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>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc
>>genre: strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, a lil bit of plot 
>>word count: 10.3k literally why cant i write anything short ever hhhh
>>warnings: cute baby!!!, jk being a good dad, he likes to garden :(, dom jk, sub oc, age gap, handjob, coming in pants, AYOOO OC GOT A FAT COOCHIE, lowkey body worship, fat coochie supremacy, oral (m/f), safe sex, sexual tension, praise, multiple orgasms, eye contact, jk likes to watch 🥴, asking for permission, jk’s lowkey controlling i guess but it’s soft and like not toxic lol, PLAYFUL use of the word ‘daddy’, no actual daddy kink 🙄, dirty talk
>>notes: idk what it is, but something about actual dads being called ‘daddy’ in a sexy way just does not sit right w me 😐 so i did not include the d word in any sexy context sry daddie luvers, maybe next time !! anyway! late vday one shot!! didn’t turn out as good as i wanted, but i still hope you enjoy! sorry for any mistakes; this is not beta’d lol ALSO ty to @moonb0yy​ for helping me with parts ilysm much bestie ur the best <3
>>summary: you find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you.
pt 2!!
Being a grocery store stocker at the ripe young age of 22 wasn’t exactly where you thought you would be after graduating from university. You thought you’d be in a big city, living it up. The stereotypical vision of a hot, independent, young girl making money, and experiencing success. Turns out you were wrong and that you maybe kinda sorta majored in something you have literally no interest in and now have a degree that you have zero desire to use. So alas, here you are, decked out in your khaki pants and light blue polo. Non-slip shoes truly tying the whole look together. 
 You also didn't think you would have a small, young, baby child gripping said khakis. You look down at the tiny human and then around the empty aisle. No one in sight. You are in the junk food lane of an overpriced, organic whole foods store. The health nuts that shop here don’t usually venture into ‘artificial’ ingredient territory. Baby seems to not be so picky. You glance down at her again. Her big doe eyes blink at you a single time.
 You gingerly shake your leg trying to get her off, kind of like you would to a chihuahua if it was jumping on you or humping your leg. Baby is quite resilient, hands small but very strong. She does have thumbs after all.
 “Can I help you?” You ask her with a quirked brow.
 She babbles for a second before her little chubby arms reach up. She makes grabby hands at you.
 You look at the box of teddy bear cookies in your hand, then back at the child. You slowly extend the box to her. 
 “Nuuu- uw!” She says, swatting the box from your hand to the floor. 
 Her grabby hands are insistent, and now she’s got a little scowl on her face. Might be close to tears? You don’t know, you don’t speak toddler.
 “Listen,” You say, appeasing her and picking her up. “That was not nice, and also, you shouldn’t be talking to strangers. Where’s your mommy, hmm?”
 She’s hoisted on your hip as you bounce her. Her fat little cheeks jiggle. You didn’t usually like kids, but this one was okay you supposed. She’s cute at the very least. She’s wearing the tiniest little skort with a pink shirt that has a taco on it. ‘Taco-bout cute!’ it says. She’s even got baby doc’s on, and you’re a little envious if you’re being honest. Those were expensive. Her pigtails stick straight out the sides of her head, a little lopsided, but endearing. You’re sure her mom did her best. 
 “Daaaaa,” She spouts.
 “Yeah?” You ask. You bounce her a little harder and the sweetest little giggle gurgles from her mouth, her eyes almost disappearing from how big she’s smiling. You spy some little teeth coming in. “You’re a little rude, but I think that’s because you’re spoiled because you’re so cute, huh?” You poke her belly.
 You switch to swaying her, and she coos. Rests her little head on your shoulder, one of her hands coming up to grip at your name tag. 
 “Hey now, don’t fall asleep. I need you to be able to identify your human. I can’t just hand you off to someone random.” You whisper, starting to walk to the customer service area so they can make an announcement over the intercom system.
 As you’re making your way to the front of the store, you see a man turning the corner. A very sexy man. He’s wearing sweats, but somehow still looks clean and put together. He’s got big sneakers on his feet, could pass as dad sneakers if you didn’t know otherwise. Those two tone shoes, your brand savvy mind knows, are Balenciagas. He’s tall and so so fine, but really really frantic. He looks frazzled, and like he’s lost something very important. You look at the baby. She probably counts as something important to most people.
 The man’s eyes fall on you, and then travel to the toddler in your arms. A look of relief falls over his features. He slumps and hangs his head exhaling, before he starts jogging towards you with a dazzling white smile on his face. He’s got dimples.
 And this just won’t do. Nope. You’ve got two hard limits. One of them being anal.
 The other being hot men that are also dads. 
 It’s weird you know. Your friends remind you of it whenever you swoon at seeing daddy-baby duos in public. You don’t even know what it is about it, but it just does something to your womb. Pussy? Same thing essentially. 
 He sighs looking at you like you have the cure to cancer in your arms as he comes face to face with you. 
 “That’s mine.” He says gesturing to the baby. 
 You hum. “Finder’s keeper’s.”
 His face falls and he looks like he’s about to panic again. You laugh.
 “Just kidding. But you do have to prove it. Not just gonna hand a baby to a stranger. I was just on my way to the front.”
 “No! Of course, um. Nari…” He coos, getting closer. The baby doesn’t acknowledge him much, just smiles, like she’s trying to ignore him. She turns closer to your chest and babbles before letting out a happy shriek. The man smiles like he’s in awe of the tiny little human in your arms. 
 “Slight recognition. A good sign. Got any pictures?” You ask, shifting her to your other hip.
 He nods and pulls out his phone. “She’s 18 months, she still only babbles but the doctor said she’s on the right track to talking,” He explains, trying to prove he knows all the baby facts that a dad should while swiping through his camera roll. It’s full of pictures of the baby girl. You see a selfie of him and the baby, she’s got oversized glasses on her face and the man is smiling so wide, mid-laugh. Maybe you’re dramatic but your heart literally shatters in your chest. “Absolutely hates peas, but loves butternut squash?” You glance at the hand basket hanging from his bent arm. There is indeed an assortment of baby mush in jars. “I don’t know, she’s kind of weird. Oh! Her name is Jeon Nari. Right Nari?” He sing-songs, trying to get her attention. 
 She reaches a plump little hand out to him, and he brings his face closer so she can reach better. She taps his cheek before she moves and grabs at his nose. She pulls her hand back with a squeal.
 He gasps. “Nari! Did you take my nose?” He makes an over exaggerated shocked expression. 
 She turns to you and offers you her clenched fist.
 You pull back, “I don’t want it.”
 She giggles, turning back to her dad. 
 “Can I have it back Miss. Nari? Please?”
 Miss. Nari. You’re going to pass away.
 Nari looks like she thinks about it before she all but flings herself from your grip to his arms. They are both laughing, and you feel like you’re third wheeling when you see her place her open mouth on his cheek, giving a kiss in the gross, adorable way that babies do. Not wanting to interrupt, you go back to stocking junk food.
 “Thank you.” He says softly. 
 You turn to look at him, and he’s got the baby on his hip, hand under her little diapered butt. She’s holding his thumb in her hand, resting on his chest. His strong dad chest.
 “No problem. Maybe don’t lose your baby again though.” Or maybe do, so I can find her and find you by association.
 He blushes. “I swear I’m a good dad. It’s just- The baby food is on the very bottom shelf, so I had to put her down to crouch and get it. And I swear. She can’t talk yet, but missy can toddle. Very fast.”
 You look at her for a moment and then just laugh. “She seems like the type to get what she wants, and if she wants to run through the grocery store?” You shrug. “Who are you to stop her? Daddy or not.”
 You swear you don’t mean it in a sexy way. But his blush moving farther down his neck is satisfying.
 He clears his throat. “Uh- Yeah. My fault. She’s a little spoiled.” He rubs his hand over the nape of his neck, bashful. Nari makes a noise of complaint. He gives her his hand back. She kicks gleefully in his hold.
 “Anyway,” You say, “You’re welcome.”
 He offers you a small smile before turning to his daughter. “Say ‘thank you’ baby.” 
 She glances as you and her face lights up. “Ba buuuuu!” 
 You coo. “You are very welcome sweet girl.” You say getting to her level. “Do