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safertokiss · 3 years

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Lost in Translation

A/N: Heyyyyy guys...remember when I used to post like every two weeks? Yeesh that’s awkward...but I’m backkkkk woooooooo party time! I was so excited that my discord buddies organized another fic swap because it was so much fun the first time. This time around I was chosen to write a doozy for the wonderful @writing-in-april and I have decided to bless you all with a beautiful subby boy. Sub Spencer lives in my head rent free, no cap. So sit back, relax and pretend it's you getting fricken railed. Peace out girl scouts;)

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: SMUT hehe oh yeah and fluff

Word Count: 4.8k

ENJOY:)

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MASTERLIST

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For as long as she could remember, Y/n had always wanted to learn Russian.

So, naturally, when she found out that their newest case involved two lovers who also happened to be Russian criminals trying to escape the United States government, she simply couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity to become more involved in the investigation.

It’s not that she’d never been on a stakeout for the Bureau before, in fact she’d probably been on so many at this point that she’d lost count. The only difference that this specific stakeout brought to her life was the fact that it was her first one to have ever been shared with Spencer Reid.

Her and the young doctor had lived in the same apartment building since her first day at the BAU, but their relationship pretty much began and ended at that. Of course they greeted each other whenever they passed in the halls of their building and ricocheted off of each other’s theories whenever necessary during their meetings in the round table room, but it would be a lie to label their relationship as anything other than casual acquaintances as well as amicable coworkers.

She had never been able to fully get a grasp on the elusive Dr. Reid. The fact that he was already such an integral member of the F.B.I. at the ripe age of 25 astounded and, well to be honest, perplexed her. Not that she doubted his abilities or intelligence in any way, quite the opposite really. She admired how utterly brilliant he proved to be day in and day out, even with the shy exterior he presented himself with to the world. Well, shy was definitely more of an understatement.

She had never met someone more socially awkward in her entire life, but with that being said, she couldn’t help but find it endearing and pretty dang adorable. Y/n constantly found herself enjoying his pathetic attempts at human interaction on a daily basis. From the nervous stutters to the out of this world hand gestures, there was much for her to dissect about the young doctor. And while she could openly admit that he was quite easy on the eyes, in a boyish-innocent kind of way, she had never really been able to see him in that sort of light.

If she thought his normal social interaction skills were entertaining to witness, his reactions to any of the conversations that took a more raunchy turn were to die for. The speed at which his features would ripen red like a tomato whenever anything of a sexual nature was brought up during cases was truly amazing, impressive even. However, unlike the rest of their team, she knew he wasn’t completely innocent. The walls in their apartment were as good as paper when it came to thickness, so it wasn’t that big surprise that the sounds created within them carried fairly well.

Or at least that was what she had discovered after the first night she heard him touching himself just through her bedroom wall.

Yes, it was less than ideal that their bedroom walls just happened to be adjacent to each other, but what could she do about it? It wasn’t as though she never sought out her own pleasure while alone in her apartment...although she would bet money that she was much better at withholding her noises. Instead, she learned to adapt to the sounds from next door and continue on with her life, having accepted that guys will in fact be dudes, no matter how innocent and meek they may appear.

When her boss had explained the nature of the assignment to them, there wasn’t anything of significance that had jumped out at her. It was all pretty standard instruction. They would wait, parked, in a government issued SUV overnight at a location close to the whereabouts of the criminals and simply translate their conversations using the mics that were planted prior. While Hotch knew that Y/n herself couldn’t understand Russian, it was common knowledge that the resident genius easily could transcribe the language.

And that was how she found herself cramped next to Spencer Reid in the stagnant vehicle, pen and paper in hand, patiently waiting for the translations to begin.

It was almost completely silent inside the car, apart from the quiet whirring of the heat coming through the vents, and she could basically feel the nerves coming off of the man next to her in waves. That’s why she was completely thrown off her game when his timid voice was the first to break through the silence that had encompassed the space they inhabited together.

“So um Y/n..h-how have you been recently?”

She did her best to hide the small smirk that started to form on her face from the stuttering mess that spilled out of his mouth. She definitely didn’t want to make him feel even worse about himself so she decided to humour his adorable attempt at conversation with her...well...sort of.

“Oh ya know Reid, just counting the days until I get some action. How about you?” If she thought he was sputtering nervously before, that was nothing compared to this treasure.

“Oh um well uh I-I mean...I don-I don’t...uh...w-what was the question a-again?”

This time she couldn’t stop the airy chuckle that escaped her lips as she leaned over and patted him gently on his thigh.

“Relax Reid, I’m just fucking around with you. Well for the most part...I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to some action, but that’s a whole can of worms I am not about to open during a stakeout”, Y/n laughed, not at all missing the steadily spreading blush that coated his sharp features.

“Yeah...no..yeah right of course...I t-totally knew you were just um fu-messing with me! Uh we should probably um r-review our assignment...you know just so we’re all s-set before we start.” How adorable.

“Aye-aye captain Reid. Ok so..”, she muttered while fiddling with the listening device to secure the right frequency. “...we just have to wait until they get back so we’re in range of their conversations. That’s when you’ll have your time to shine and prove yourself as the resident genius once again. And I’m sure that you’re aware that I don’t know a lick of the Russian language so I will be the best damn transcriber for you that the world has ever seen”, she finished with a smirk.

Even Reid chuckled a bit at her words, the ever-present blush slowly creeping back upon his face and neck.

“I’ll uh-I’ll hold you to that then.” Y/n had to admit she particularly liked to see the boy smiling, especially when it was the result of her own words. His innocence seemed to call out to her like a siren and she didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Oh-oh there they are! Ok get the pen and paper ready because as soon as they’re in range I’ll start translating.”

Getting themselves situated, they waited the few seconds it took for the couple to get close enough to the vicinity of the SUV for their conversations to begin to be broadcasted through their system.

“Как вы думаете, они идут по нашему следу?”

“Do you think they’re on our trail?”, Spencer easily understands, leaning slightly closer to her so his words were clearly heard.

“Ни за что. У этих глупых американцев нет шансов поймать нас.”

“No way. Those stupid Americans don’t stand a chance at catching us.”

At this point, the couple had already disappeared behind the door at the entrance of their current base, leaving only their words to give the closely listening agents much needed context clues.

“Я когда-нибудь говорил тебе, как сильно мне нравится твоя уверенность?”

“Have I ever told you how much I love your confidence?”

Even Spencer let himself smile at the chuckle that left Y/n’s lips. “Awww how cute...they’re flirting with each other over mass murder. I strive for that kind of intimacy.”

“Да у тебя есть. Но почему бы тебе не показать мне, насколько тебе это нравится.”

“Yes, you have. But why don’t you show me just how much you love it.”

Uh oh, Y/n thought to herself. Not a second after the untimely thought permeated her brain, the sounds of wet lips sloppily colliding against each other filled the otherwise silent vehicle. After the few seconds of shock wore off, their heads whipped to face each other, eyes wide and mouths wide open. “Huh...well this was certainly an unexpected turn.”

“I uh um-uh well w-what do we do now?”, Tomato Boy nervously sputtered out over the chorus of moans and groans that were currently bouncing off the SUV’s walls. As unexpected as the present situation was, she was absolutely eating up his reaction to the crude sounds.

“Well, Hotch did say he wanted us to take down every single word that was shared between them so...I guess we’re just gonna have to keep moving forward with the translations. You can do that, can’t you Reid?”, she explained, not even attempting to hide the growing smirk on her face.

“Yeah! Yes! Mhmm I can do that, I c-can definitely do t-that.”, he gushed, trying to subtly clear his throat to clear the steadily growing tension in his body.

“Good to hear, Doc.”, she cheekily replied just as the raunchy sounds echoing through the system transitioned to different methods of communication, more legible ones.

“Ты была для меня такой хорошей девочкой. Я думаю, ты заслуживаешь награды.”

Quickly clearing his throat once more, he jumped back into action, with what Y/n noticed was considerably less confidence than before. “You’ve b-been such a good g-girl for me. I think you deserve a r-reward.” Spencer’s voice had noticeably dropped to a whisper by the end of the sentence, forcing Y/n to lean closer to be able to hear his translations, only magnifying the already present tension in the air.

“Пожалуйста, папа, я сделаю что угодно.”

“P-please daddy.” His voice broke at the end igniting something deep inside Y/n’s being. “I’ll do anything.” In that moment she truly believed he would do anything, his own words or not, based on the obvious strain in his pants that her eyes glanced over, and also by the way his skin completely succumbed to goosebumps as her warm breath caressed the shell of his ear. She didn’t really know what the hell was happening, why her body was absolutely loving the way he gradually leaned into her’s, submitting all of his vulnerabilities into her hands.

“Тебе это нравится, не так ли, маленькая шлюшка. Как член папы глубоко внутри тебя?”

She watched the way he inhaled a deep breath and released a high-pitched sigh before continuing on, subtly pressing her legs together to control the excitement thrumming through her body at his pathetic tone and mannerisms.

“You like t-that don’t you, you little-uh-you little s-slut?” From their close proximity, she could clearly make out the speedy heartbeat clambering against his chest as he spoke. And if that was the case, he must’ve been able to feel hers as well. “Like daddy’s c-cock deep inside of y-you?” She could’ve sworn she saw his dick twitch slightly in his pants.

“Маленькая шлюшка уже придет за мной? Тогда умоляйте об этом. Бля, умоляю позволить тебе кончить.”

Y/n certainly did not miss the airy sigh that escaped his lips, watching as a bead of sweat dripped down his temple, confidently guessing it was not from the heat that had been coming through the vents.

“Is the little-little s-slut gonna come for me already? B-beg for it then. Fucking beg f-for me to let you c-come.” Spencer was speedily falling apart at the seams and she was loving it. More than loving it. She was craving it. Craving the little noises that he was trying to stop from escaping his lips. Craving the way he slightly bounced his leg in an attempt to control his arousal, which was futile because it had obviously already reached its full potential in the confines of his khaki slacks.

“Пожалуйста, папа. Пожалуйста, позволь мне прийти. Мне это надо. Пожалуйста.”

Without even hearing the words translated back to her, she could hear the utter desperation in the girl’s voice. She no longer needed to understand the Russian language to be able to finish the translation, and as she sat there with her thighs tightly pressed together, she knew exactly what it meant.

“Please!” The utter need that was present in the original audio was somehow mirrored perfectly by the young doctor’s breathy voice, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, a prominent vein popping through the skin of his smooth forehead. “Please, p-please, please let me come. I n-need it. Please!”

“Приди за мной, детка.”

Deciding that she could regret her actions in the morning, Y/n quickly grabbed his face before he could translate, angling his head so she could whisper directly into his ear at the same time he spoke the last line of the night.

“Come for me baby.”, they both spoke at the exact same time.

Pulling away as fast as possible, she watched his clamped eyes shoot open as the most obnoxiously loud moan she had ever heard escaped the poor kid, his whole body spasming as a result. And using the large stain on the crotch of his pants as a guide, she was pretty certain she knew what had happened.

For the next few minutes there was silence in the SUV, apart from Spencer’s heavy breathing as he came down of course, leading them to believe the couple had fallen asleep after their...activities. Of course she wanted nothing more than to tease the trembling mess next to her, but she could already tell he was mortified beyond belief because of what happened so she didn’t want to make it any worse for him than it already was.

After waiting a few extra minutes just to make sure that they had actually gone to sleep, the pair drove away from the stakeout location, Spencer not having said a word since his...big finish. As much as she loved watching him fall apart in front of her, she really didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable around her.

“Well that was certainly an unexpected turn of events for the night, huh?”, she said, lightly chuckling with the intent of lightening his mood. She was very glad to see it had the intended effect.

“Uh y-yeah...you could definitely say that again.”, he mumbled with the ghost of a smile on his plump lips, though she could still clearly make out the blush coating his features.

“So hey, I know that you usually take the metro, but I’d be more than happy to give you a ride home after we drop the SUV off at the office if you want.”, she warmly smiled in his direction without taking her eyes completely off the road.

“Oh um..yeah that would be perfect. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it Reid.”

~~~

The rest of the ride back to the office was pretty much spent in silence, but it was much more comfortable than it had been before, which was a huge relief. After dropping the keys to the SUV in the lock box inside, the two agents piled into Y/n’s car to go back home to their shared building. On their way back she considered just asking him if he wanted to ride with her everyday just to make his life a little easier in the long run.

Once they got to the parking lot and exited the vehicle, they began walking towards the entrance together, the awkward tension from before creeping back into the air around them. Soon enough, they found themselves standing in front of their respective doors, both unsure of how they were supposed to end the night’s interactions. After a few moments of painful silence and eye contact, Y/n was the first one to rip off the band-aid.

“So...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Reid?” He seemed to be broken out of his trance by the sound of her voice, snapping back to attention.

“Huh? Oh yeah uh yes of course. S-see you tomorrow Y/n. Goodnight.” He scampered into his apartment before she could even get a chance to respond to his bidding.

“Goodnight.”, she whispered to no one other than herself as she unlocked her door and headed inside to shower quickly before diving into her soft sheets.

She was sitting up in her bed, book in hand, with only the small glow of her reading lamp illuminating her room when she heard it. Of course she knew immediately what they were, a talent that had developed and strengthened from living adjacent to a pretty much pubescent boy.

The tell-tale sound of moans and groans vibrating right through her wall.

She knew she probably shouldn’t be listening, something about a violation of privacy or whatever, but she just couldn’t help it. He sounded so desperate it was driving her insane. So much in fact that she was in the process of skimming her own hand downwards when she was interrupted by a certain something from the Doc’s room.

“Y/n! Oh god, please. Please.”

Oh. Oh.

Not even giving herself a second to consider her actions, she was up on her feet basically sprinting to his door, pajamas and all. Not even bothering with knocking, she noticed it was unlocked and let herself in, beelining for what she assumed was his bedroom by the increasing volume as she approached it. Standing in his doorframe, she was utterly mesmerized. There he was, sprawled across his sheets, completely bare with sweat coating his hair as he rapidly pumped his angry, red cock, her name tumbling from his lips like a chant.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” She smirked as she watched his head shoot up to where she was standing, his hand immediately stilling it’s rapid movements. Watching the panic spread on his face was intoxicating to her as she slowly approached his bed.

“Y/n! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I uh-I didn’t um...” His words trailed off and his eyes widened as he watched her slowly begin removing her clothes as she moved closer to him.

“Shhhhhh.” She managed to remove both her shirt and pajama pants in the short trip over to his bed and she had no intention of stopping there. Now standing directly in front of him, she let her eyes wander over his still frame completely, soaking in the amazement in his dark eyes and the slight tremble that was periodically rippling through his body. Maintaining eye contact with him the whole time, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it pool on the floor next to her.

It was honestly shocking his eyes didn’t actually fall onto the floor with how far they bulged out of their sockets, a small moan leaving his mouth.

She giggled at his enthusiasm before bringing her soft hands up to caress his face gently, his body shuddering at the contact. “Do you want me to keep going baby boy?” Taking a second to process the question that had left her lips, he slowly nodded while looking her in the eyes, his own full of awe.

Happy with his answer, she reached for the edge of her panties before pushing them down to join the other pieces of clothing already inhabiting his floor. Spencer couldn’t speak. He could barely even breathe. Five minutes ago he had been jerking off to his neighbor, who also happened to be his coworker, and now said neighbor was crawling onto his bed, completely naked, with a wicked smirk on her face.

Straddling his lap, but making sure that there was no actual contact, she reached up to cup his face again, slowly rubbing circles into his defined cheekbone. “Is this ok baby boy? Is this what you want?”, she cooed.

Spencer looked like he honestly might cry from the pure compassion laced within her words, but still found a way to nervously nod his head in affirmation of her questions. With a warm smile on her face, she leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss on his lower jaw before continuing up the side of his face, basking in the small whimpers that fell from his pretty lips. Finally reaching his ear, she let her warm breath tease him before proceeding.

“Do you want me to take control of you? Is that what you want sweet boy?” While the whine that immediately escaped him was answer enough, she pulled back searching for a more concrete answer to her question. “Hmmmm, you’d like that?”

“Yes.”, he whispered, nodding his head anxiously.

While he was answering she had leaned back towards his face, placing soft kisses all over. “As you wish baby boy.”, she whispered, changing course to attack his neck with her eager lips as soon the words left her mouth. Spencer gasped instantly and she couldn’t help but smirk against his pale flesh, increasing the pressure in which she was assaulting his neck.

Through the groans that spilled past his lips, she was able to make out his pathetic attempt at words, not slowing down her lips at all. “J-just make sure not to leave any m-marks. We’ll g-get in trouble at w-work.” Of course Spencer would be the only person on the planet to remember their office guidelines while getting his neck sucked like a vampire.

“No marks...that’ll be difficult. I want everyone to know just how thoroughly I fucked you.”

Feeling extremely satisfied by his enthusiastic response to her vulgar words, she slowly lowered herself down his body, pausing with her mouth right above his groin. Somehow the poor kid already looked completely fucked out and she hadn’t even done anything yet. Hearing him wince as she gently grasped and started stroking his cock, she knew this was gonna be fun.

Staring directly into her eyes, he watched the string of spit leave her mouth and drip directly onto his dick, eyes bulging at her bold actions, still in shock that any of this was actually happening.

Entranced by the way his chest expanded rapidly as he watched her curiously, she leaned forward and licked the tip, his head falling back onto the pillow behind him. “I’m gonna suck your cock...but only because I want to see if you can not be a spaz about getting head from me.” Her words made Spencer whimper and she smirked as she took him fully into her mouth, soaking in his pretty noises.

Y/n had only been going for a minute or two when she heard his groans get louder and felt him twitch in her mouth. Pulling off of him with a pop, she hummed at the sight of the completely wrecked boy in front of her, panting and shaking adorably. It wasn’t long before the perfect idea infiltrated her head, her body thrumming with anticipation and excitement.

“You’ve been such a good boy for me. I think you deserve a reward.”, she smirked, reciting the words that they had heard verbatim. Seemingly catching on to what she was pushing for, he responded accordingly.

“Please Y/n. I’ll do anything.”

She quirked her eyebrow in his direction questioningly, slowly grinding her dripping core against his achingly hard cock. “Anything, baby boy?”

Snapping his heated stare directly to her eyes, he cracked a beautiful smile. “Anything.”

She couldn’t control the grin that overtook her lips as she lowered herself down onto his erection, writhing in pleasure at the feel of him inside of her and the sound of his wanton moans. “Good boy.”

Wanting to give Spencer time to fully adjust and control himself, she started her movements out slow, lifting herself up until only his tip remained inside before dropping down completely into his lap repeatedly. He was a moaning mess on the sheets below her, sweat coating his body along with goosebumps covering every visible expanse of his skin as he panted like a dog. He was so fucking pretty like this.

Deciding enough was enough, she picked up the pace considerably, bouncing like a mad woman on his dick, while her sharp nails scratched down his creamy, pale chest in front of her, leaving angry, red streaks in their wake. Spencer had devolved into a blubbering mess underneath her and that lit her soul on fire.

“You like that don’t you, you little slut? Like your cock deep inside of me? Huh?”

Y/n was pretty sure that he was short circuiting below her, his brain cutting off all control over his body as he spasmed uncontrollably and moaned for the entire fucking building to hear. Good, she thought. Let them hear how whipped he was for her. Even though it had only been a few minutes since she increased her speed, she could feel his cock starting to twitch violently inside of her and she knew he was close, really close.

“Is the little slut gonna come for me already?” All he could do was whimper in response, having to nod his head emphatically due to his loss of speech.

“Beg for it then. Fucking beg for me to let you come!” She was on fucking cloud nine right now, floating through the motions, as his whimpers increased in volume and speed. Mustering up all the strength he could, he spit out as many audible words as possible.

“Please! Please, please, please let me come! I need it! Please!” He was crying now, tears rapidly pouring from his eyes and spilling down his cheeks out of sheer desperation and need to release the tension built up within his body.

She was in awe of him. As she watched the tears pour down his face, she couldn’t help but whimper too. Desperately needing to finish, herself, she brought one hand down to make circles around her clit, while the other she brought up to wrap gently around his flushed throat, leaning over to whisper in his ear like she had earlier that night.

“Come for me, baby.”

She once again pulled back to witness his reactions to her hushed words, the outcome only more amazing than before. She watched as his eyes rolled back as far they could possibly go into his head as his mouth dropped open in pure ecstasy, high-pitched whines escaping his lips, his release shooting up into her like it had always belonged there. Maybe it had.

Watching him come undone below her, combined with her hand speedily rubbing circles on her clit, she was catapulted into the most amazing climax of her entire life, her body buzzing with excitement as she tightened around him and collapsed on his chest, weak as could be after that activity.

The pair laid silently, apart from the heaving breaths whirring through the room, still in shock over what had just transpired minutes before. Slowly shifting her eyes to the shivering boy below her, she saw he was caught in a trance, his eyes dazed, a soft grin on his lips.

Breaking him from his stupor, she gently cupped his cheek with one hand as the other drew lazy circles on his blotchy chest. Rubbing the skin on his face lightly, she leaned forward and kissed his nose, making him scrunch it up and giggle as a result. “Such a sweet boy for me. Such a sweet, sweet boy.” Her words made him melt inside and words tumbled out of his own mouth before he could even think about stopping them.

“Вы красивы внутри и снаружи.”

She looked up at him in shock, before breaking out in giggles. “Did you just serenade me in Russian? How romantic.”, she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

He couldn’t seem to control his giggles either, a fact that warmed her heart. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

Smiling up at the adorable boy she just had to ask. “What does it mean?”

Y/n watched as his signature blush quickly coated his features once again as he looked down at her with a shy smile. “You are beautiful, inside and out.”

With the warmest grin she could muster, she leaned up and kissed his jaw once more before snuggling up against the young doctor who had melted her heart.

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bymoonchild · 5 years

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Microwave (Mis)adventures (M)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader Genre | Fluff, slight angst, smut / college!AU, roommates/housemates!AU, enemies to lovers!AU, Warnings | Explicit language, lots of sarcastic banter, pillow-humping, masturbation, kitchen blowjob (!!!), eating out, fingering, creampie, cum-eating, unprotected sex Word count | 20k

Out of all things to be afraid of, Jungkook, the seat-stealer of your 8am class and annoying housemate whom you despise with every fiber of your being, chooses to have a phobia of microwaves, but he loves buying microwaveable food – because come on, they’re irresistible – and you somehow find yourself getting dragged into his microwaves (mis)adventures. Cue chaos, sarcasm-laced banter and an unplanned romance.

After attending college for a good three hellish but somewhat fun (only because you live to torture yourself) semesters, there are six things that you think you’ve mastered.

Sleeping at 6am and waking up just on time for your 9am the next day and ready to kick some ass.

Relying on coffee – a true college student’s lifeblood – to survive the day.

Pretending that you have your shit together – people around you think you have everything under control. You’re part of your faculty club, the editor of your school’s publication and also on the freaking dean’s list and have an immaculate GPA to maintain.

Being a bitch because college has a lot of dumb people and you don’t understand how there are so many people with just one brain cell, that is almost close to none.

Making lists because checking off each task from your list is as satisfying as sleeping in on a Friday.

Making routines and sticking to them.

So If there’s any skill that you’ve mastered, it should be these few, though it’s highly unfortunate that you can’t list any of the aforementioned skills in your resume. Skill number six is also your pet peeve and you just abhor, detest, loathe, fucking hate it when your routine gets all screwed up and just about everyone around you knows how anal you are about following your routines and you won’t hesitate to throw hands if something goes awry.

You’ve never imagined that you would actually be throwing hands until you see some stranger occupying your usual seat at your 8am lecture, for fuck’s sake. You’re not being territorial. There’s no such thing as assigned seats in college, but after the first week or so, people just got in the habit of sitting in the same spot – it’s like an unspoken decision. But your favourite seat is taken. Rudely taken by a mob of dark hair who’s casually scrolling through his phone.

The nerve!

As if on cue, your vision flares red and your mind sorely screams at you to throttle him. Look, you’re not a convulsive human being and you’re definitely not that big of a bitch (at least not without a reason), but you spent the entirety of last night sorting out your team’s editorial calendar and making sure that everything is under control and you had to drag yourself out of bed at 7 in the morning with hardly any shuteye. You’re high-key regretting every single decision you’ve ever made and definitely not in the friendliest of moods to deal with a seat-stealer.

So you stalk over to your usual seat, storming louder than usual with your bitchiest expression that you’ve been training since college started.

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat, eyebrows raised tauntingly at the boy in front of you, who is settled way too comfortably in your seat.

“Hi…?” The brunet stares at you unblinking, as if rummaging through the compartments of his brain for an inkling of a name or memory of you. “Do I—”

“You’re in my seat,” you cut him off curtly, impatience evident in your tone, barely giving him any time to register what’s going on.

“W-What?”

“This,” you point unabashedly to the chair he has his butt comfortably on, “is my seat.”

Something about his expression changes and his eyebrows start to crease, as though he’s starting to fathom what the heck is going on.

At that, you frown back harder, all eyebrows furrowed and tightened jaw muscles.

“But we don’t have assigned seats in college?” The latter challenges with a tilt of his head, arranging his features into a look of deep confusion.

This only prompts you to roll your eyes in disbelief, a flash of annoyance flitting across your sharp features. You’d like to think you’re not a bitch, at least not without a god damn reason and having your seat stolen during an 8am lecture is a good enough reason.

“Yeah? I’ve been sitting in this seat for the past eight weeks, so your argument is invalid.”

You riposte, not minding how lecture has long begun and the students around you are gaping apprehensively at the commotion you’re brewing up instead of listening to the professor. You try your best to ignore the burning gazes on your back.

He remains silent, but his eyes are lit up as though he enjoys riling you up.

“Um look—”

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you scrunch your eyes closed, trying your best to resist screaming in lecture as a burning sensation climbs up your throat.

“Can you just, I don’t know, move? I’m already having a bad morning and I don’t need a seat-stealer to add to my hit list.”

He gawks at you for a few seconds to see whether you’re pulling his leg about adding him to your hit list and wanting him to move, but raises his hand in mock surrender when he realises that you’re actually serious.

Giving you his most I-don’t-give-a-fuck-anymore shrug, he mumbles while grabbing his bag, “Okay, fine fine. Geez, it’s just a seat.”

You wait as he moves out of the seat, before sliding into your seat promptly and you find your entire body relaxing out of instinct.

“You’re very welcome, by the way,” the stranger retorts with the same sarcasm that you very much do not appreciate, given your already rotten morning, but it doesn’t match up with the mirth lurking in his voice and grin on his lips.

“T-Thanks,” you mumble under your breath, unsure of whether he caught it, but you have better things to worry about like catching up with the lecture and trying your best not to have a breakdown because your morning routine just got fucked with.

Turning back again out of instinct, you see the boy shoot you another weird look before moving to the back of the LT.

You feel your heart skip. In anger or something. You look away, appalled by the audacity of him – how he can still look at you in the eye when he just did the most despicable thing on earth.

For the next two hours of lecture, you find yourself incapable of concentrating, mind invaded with thoughts of that seat-stealer. You’re not sure where he has moved to, too caught up in basking in your own internal pit of resentment and memorising every detail of the seat stealer’s cute face so that you can punch him the next time you see him.

Wait…

Cute?

As the overused saying goes, it’s just a bad day, not a bad life – and honestly, you really want to believe in that cliché encouragement. With the same lack of vigour from this morning, you head back to your apartment after class and desperately hope that none of your housemates would be home because you could really use some peaceful alone time.

You share an apartment with three other friends – Namjoon whom you met through the student union (he’s the Vice President and you work under him as the editor of the editorial committee), Sooyeon aka your best buddy who unconditionally puts up with your angsty ass and Jimin, Sooyeon’s loverboy who’s part of your school’s dance crew.

But instead of coming home to peace and comfort, your eyes land on someone whom you’ve never expected to see again the very moment you push open the door. Let alone in your fucking house.

The boy, too, seems to be appalled by your appearance. “Hey, you’re—”

You point at him exasperatedly, mouth agape. “Oh my god, you’re the freaking seat-stealer!”

Your surprise is initially mirrored on the stranger’s face, but he recovers it quickly and even chuckles at your histrionic outburst. “Wow, nice to meet you too?”

For a good thirty seconds, silence and thick tension pervade the air as you smoulder with rage and confusion, until the boy begins to speak up again.

Scratching the back of his head, he chuckles dryly, “I swear I’m not here to steal your seat whatsoever.”

“Then what the heck are you doing here—shit, are you the new housemate?”

“Yep,” he replies pompously, emphasising on the ‘p’.

He sees you freeze up, how your eyes twitch a little, before you unabashedly blurt out a “fuck my life”, entirely disregarding your new housemate.

“Namjoon could have warned me beforehand about having a seat-stealer as our new housemate. Seriously.”

“Um,” he ignores your blunt cavil and extends out of his hand with a small smile. “I’m Jungkook.”

You gawk at his hand, affronted that he thinks you’re down for a fresh start because your day has been ruined because of his stupid ass who decided to take your seat.

Look, it does not seem that deep, but it is, in fact, that deep.

Everything has gone downhill after your encounter with the seat-stealer. After lecture, you planned on heading to the canteen to grab food before your next class which you had a mini-quiz for, but due to the little fiasco during lecture which involved the unapologetic seat-stealer, you had to stay behind after lecture to clarify the content that you missed out with your professor, and then you missed the bus and couldn’t get to the canteen in time. In the end, you had to do your test hangry, so you definitely have every single right to be angry.

It is just the utmost unlikely of tragedies to meet this Jungkook dude twice in a day, and now he’s your new housemate? Fuck no.

“And you are…?” He grins awkwardly, hand still hovering in mid-air. His large, almond eyes regard you with keen interest, but you choose not to relent.

“Getting the fuck out of here.”

You spit, spinning on your heels to thunder down the hallway and retreat to the comfort of your room. But before you slam the door to get the boy away from your sight, your conscience stops you.

Come on, you’re not that mean to leave him there without giving him the Pep Talk. That would be the least you could do. He should take that as your warm welcome and the last interaction you two would ever have.

“So um, Jungkook, right? We have a few rules here. First off, don’t leave your trash out in the living room, throw them in the bin or recycling bin if you need to. Secondly, label your food in the refrigerator properly. Thirdly, I’d appreciate it if you don’t talk to me. Ever. Okay, yeah that’s all. Thanks, bye.”

The words taste bland on your tongue and the distaste is plain as day on your lips as you slam the door behind you, leaving Jungkook standing in the middle of the living room, staring blankly at your door like a lost child.

Behind him, the door clicks. Jungkook turns around and sees Namjoon at the entrance. Finally, his savour.

“Hey hyung!” He greets a little too excitedly.

He first met Namjoon at a music festival, in which the older was in charge of. At that point in time, Jungkook was a freshman and had just joined the dance crew (which was considered a feat for a freshman) and he had the chance to talk to Namjoon, in which he found him a really passionate and capable leader. When he found out that Jungkook was looking for an apartment in his second year, Namjoon being the wonderful gentleman he is, offered him their empty room – they needed someone to occupy the last room and it’s always better to have someone they know than a rando from the streets.

And that’s exactly what happened. Exactly why Jungkook is standing in the middle of the living room awkwardly after being cursed at by a girl who is not only attractive to him, but also sardonic and sharp-tongued. And he just had to steal her freaking seat during lecture.

“Sorry kiddo, got caught in traffic. I see you’ve met the wrath of Y/N?”

“Y/N…” Jungkook repeats to himself, but laughter pokes its way across mirthful eyes and tinted cheeks, displaying his bunny teeth in their full glory at the memory of your aggravated face.

“She’s normally not like this, I swear. I don’t know why she’s so pissy today,” Namjoon shrugs as he removes his shoes. He then walks past Jungkook and ruffles his hair.

“Maybe because I got on her bad side when I took her seat during lecture this morning?”

“Oh, that explains it. She doesn’t like… changes. She’s very anal about sticking to her routine.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“She’ll get over it soon, don’t worry.”

“It doesn’t seem like her hatred for me will end any time soon though.”

He pats Jungkook on the back, as if another way of wishing him luck. “Anyways, welcome to our humble abode! We have a few rules—”

“Oh, Y/N already went through them with me.”

“Great! My room is just beside yours, you can just pop by whenever you want, but I’m mostly not home. We have a cleaning and errands roster by the fridge, I’ve added your name to the list. Enjoy your stay, yeah?”

At Namjoon’s last sentence, your face pops up at the forefront of Jungkook’s mind. You’re intriguing, he would say. Very intriguing. Well, looks like it’s going to be one fun hell of a semester living and breathing in the same confined space as you. That, he can’t wait.

It has been a tough two weeks living with Jeon Jungkook. He has come ramming into your life like a bulldozer, obliterating what little peaceful routine you’ve cultivated. Within the first two days, every fiber of your being has come to a consensus: you hate Jungkook’s guts.

It’s as if he’s designated to cross paths with you to ruin your life. The very fact that you’re sharing a roof with him makes your blood boil and nerves shake with animosity and the number of times your subconscious has proposed strangling him with your bare hands is almost unhealthy.

But to your ultimate dismay, your other housemates have no qualms about accepting Jungkook – the impudent, cocky, dogmatic jerk who does not hold an ounce of consideration in his bones – and making him part of the gang.

You, on the contrary, aren’t going to be deceived by his façade.

So you refuse to acknowledge his existence or give him the time of day. While it is almost impossible to fully avoid him because he does live in the same apartment as you, it still doesn’t stop you from not thinking twice about walking away in the opposite direction or pretending to be on your phone to avoid any potential social interaction with him when he’s in the proximity.

Despite your reluctance, you do learn a few things about Jungkook from just pure observation or from your other housemates who, for a fact, can’t shut up about him. He’s a second-year Computer Science major, with a second major in narcissism and sarcasm (but he’s nothing compared to you), is in the dance team with Jimin, and is also a passive-aggressive and cocky jerk and proud anime weeb.

He’s also very diligent. Diligent in pissing you off, that is.

Thus, you’ve taken every liberty to flip him off whenever you could and it’s not as though your housemates are oblivious to your ongoing heated war with Jungkook – they just choose not to care, also because they find your discord with him very amusing. It’s their daily entertainment. But they’re mostly unbothered because Jungkook is causing misery to no one else in the apartment except you.

You’re his only target.

Which is weird because you like to think that you have a daunting presence which keeps most people away, accompanied by a temper too intolerable for people. But Jungkook, with his one brain cell, is unlike most people and seems to have a penchant for riling you (and only you) up, leaving all proper etiquette aside and pissing you off at the utmost degree. It’s either he’s plain dumb or lives to torture himself. Possibly both.

Last Thursday, you came home to a battlefield, a war between a growing pile of dirty clothes strewn all over the living room (you’re pretty sure your housemates have started using one of the shirts as a rug) and takeout containers scattered all over the kitchen counter and living room. And all these were caused by the one and only Jeon Jungkook – who else would be this inhumane? Even Namjoon, the messiest person ever, cleans up after himself, or at least has learnt how to after living in a shared apartment.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is incorrigible. But what you can’t understand is that he seems delighted to witness the consequences of his filthy tendencies.

Whenever you vociferate his name, he’s always carrying a smug and amused grin despite your evident irritation.

He’s watching an anime on his phone on the couch when you stomp up to him and call him by his full name with your nastiest scowl. You usually try to be civil with him for the sake of your housemates, but your patience grows thinner than a thread every day, especially when he shoots you a cocky smirk, “Yes, Y/N?”

Eyes ablaze with smouldering anger and fists jammed sharply into the flesh of your hips, tightly gripping onto the final shreds of your sanity, you say between clenched teeth, “Tell me – why are your things lying all over the living room? Do you or do you not have a fucking room?”

“Of course, I do,” he replies impassively, eyes still glued to his phone, engrossed in watching whatever’s captivating enough for the blockhead.

Picking up a sweatshirt that hasn’t been watched in perhaps a month for good measure, you snarl, “What the fuck are you? A barbarian?”

He looks up from his phone for the first time, the right corner of his lips curled into a lewd smirk.

“Probably not that ugly – have you seen my face, Miss Grumps?”

“You’re so full of yourself I might just barf at your face. And for the record, you’re not that good looking.”

“Really? I’d beg to differ.”

“The only begging you’ll do is at the doorstep when I finally kick you out of this apartment if you can’t learn to clean up after yourself.”

Satisfied with your riposte, you hurl his clothes that you’ve dutifully picked up from all corners of the living room at his direction, but he catches them all with just one hand without even batting an eyelash. Damn dancers and their quick reflexes.

“What? Impressed?”

“Hey look,” you assert, throwing your hands in mid-air and Jungkook’s eyes follow accordingly, staring blankly at them. “Look at all the fucks I give.”

His face drops when he realises that he’s been punked. “You’re fucking Satan’s child.”

You raise your eyebrows, mirth dancing in your orbs. Giving him a contemptuous round of applause, you dispute, “I’ve been called worse. Try harder.”

He doesn’t even need to look at you to know what kind of glower you’re boring on your face. It’s as if he has that distinctive expression of yours mesmerised and embedded in his memory.

“Is that a challenge?” The smallest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Only if you don’t come crying to me when you lose.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond and for a moment, you think you’ve got the upper hand. But your eyes gradually narrow to slits as he continues to make no inclination to acknowledge you. You realise that he has increased the volume of whatever shitty anime he’s watching.

Fucker.

As you gape at him incredulously, the gears in your mind spinning, there’s an unfamiliar prickle in your chest: competitiveness. You want him to bow down to you. You’re hungry to win.

So given that skanky attitude of his, you, of course, have to retaliate by annoying the shit out of him as well. For one, you decide to drink his beloved banana milk, slurping generously on his endless supply for the next few days. The dude has two full cartons in the kitchen and you don’t want to know why.

When he comes confronting you, you show him exactly no fucks given.

“Where’s my banana milk?”

“Up my ass, bitch.”

“What the fuck? That was my last one!”

“Oops, couldn’t help that I was thirsty!”

By the anger that undulates from his pinched features, you don’t know why the fuck, but you have this wholesome sense of satisfaction knowing that he got his comeuppance. You’ve won this time and you want to continue to win.

Oh, it’s on, Jeon Jungkook. It’s on.

After the banana milk incident and many more that should not be mentioned, it is a known fact that Jungkook and you are profoundly contentious with each other and should never be allowed in the same room for everyone’s sake. However, God knows what went through your housemates’ minds when they thought it would be a good idea to call for a compulsory movie night. You couldn’t even excuse yourself from it without bearing the brunt of Sooyeon’s annoying pleas.

“Look who we have here – Y/N!”

You hear your name being slurred out on purpose a few inches above you. Looking up from your phone, you frown when your eyes land on your favourite nemesis, frowning in an instance.

“Fancy seeing you here!” Jungkook grins smugly and you desperately want to wipe that smirk off his face.

“Bitch, I live here.”

“Well, aren’t you just unapproachable today.”

“And yet you are here,” you scowl back.

“Well, I am something else, aren’t I?” He smirks slyly with a victorious blaze flaring in his eyes. “Especially when you have the temper of a volcano that hasn't erupted in, say, a million years.”

The crease on your forehead grows and you click your tongue loudly when Jungkook settles himself comfortably in front of you on the floor. He even turns around to shoot you a guileful smile.

“You’re a walking pest. The fucking bane of my existence. The devil incarnated,” you leer and he takes everything in with an amused and sinister grin before turning back to the TV.

It’s not even halfway into the movie when Jungkook and you come into conflict again. You’re just minding your own business, watching Iron Man for the umpteenth time (you swear they only played it because of Jungkook and his obsession) when the said boy suddenly turns around and sneezes loudly. Directly at your face. He even has the audacity to laugh at your scrunched up expression.

“Oh, sorry?” he chuckles, tilting his head slightly.

“Sorry?” You flare up at him, throwing a pillow at his face. “You’re not fucking sorry!”

At your outburst, a blanket of unease drapes the atmosphere and causes the attitudes of your housemates to go sour. Jungkook looks at the others who are all equally as shocked, except for Namjoon who looks like he’s enjoying what he sees because he is casually shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Um okay? Then I’m not sorry?”

Huffing in disbelief, you clench your fists, tampering down the exceptional vexation that is tying knots around your throat, “Wow! And you’re taking it back now?”

Jungkook frowns, now completely exasperated and throws his hands in the air. “What the fuck do you want me to do? Make your mind, Miss Grumps.”

You gawk at him in disbelief, pointing to yourself while a humourless laugh escapes your lips, “Grumps? I’m not grumpy!”

“Wow and I’m not hot.”

“You’re definitely not!”

“Not only are you grumpy, you’re blind as well!”

“Guys, stop it!” You hear one of the guys shout, but you’re too blinded by anger to turn to look at them.

“Hey Y/N, calm down,” Sooyeon whispers, pulling you away from Jungkook.

A surge of adrenaline through your limbs urges you to lunge forward and tackle him to the ground. But due to the choking rage that thickens at the back of your throat, you can’t seem to scream out coherently. Instead, an incoherent garble of insults escapes from your mouth.

“Jungkook, stop it – you’re going to drive Y/N mad,” Jimin pipes up from the other end of the couch, but has no real intentions of making Jungkook stop. The latter shrugs casually and turns back to the TV screen, leaving you fuming silently behind him. If looks could kill, Jeon Jungkook would be dead by now.

By the end of the first month living with him, you’re definite that if there’s anything illegal you could do in your lifetime and get away with it, it would be to assassinate Jeon Jungkook with your bare hands.

Jungkook has done a lot of stupid things in his twenty-one years of living, like any other dumb kid on the block. He has a full list of shall-not-be-mentioned past experiences because they’re really that absurd. Like climbing his neighbour tree and falling asleep till the next morning (and only realising that he had fucked up when a police car came to their house because yes, his parents called the freaking police to find the missing kid) and playing ghostbusters at an allegedly haunted warehouse with his brother (he caught a glimpse of a woman in white and thought he heard pained cries – and that was his consolation prize).

So, he is proud to say that he is a man with no fears, or at least he likes to think that he is, because he knows that everyone else thinks that way too. He’s that designated friend who will catch your insects for you, go bungee-jumping without any hesitation and walk through a haunted house without screaming at all. He’s conquered all the possible fears little by little over the last twenty-one years of his life… Well, except for one.

At 3am in the morning, he’s standing in the middle of the kitchen and staring at his one and only fear. He shudders at the thought of going near it and he doesn’t know if the churning in his stomach is due to his fear or just plain hunger – or both. He just needs to heat up his frozen pizza with the—

Oh.

The microwave.

The main source of his nightmares when his stomach decides to throw tantrums in the middle of the night. It’s the one fear that he has never been able to overcome because there’s always someone at home to help him microwave his food. If he’s at the convenience store, he’ll beg the staff to help him with it and he’s used to doing that – he’s proud to say that this mere desperate act has thickened his skin and boosted his courage.

He halts in his tracks, staring blankly at the contraption, frozen pizza in hand. Well, he could just fuck it and eat it as it is, cold and sad but he could only imagine the countless of toilet runs following it. So no, thank you – he needs to heat up his pizza and he needs it ASAP before he faints from hunger. But as soon as he reaches out to the device, memories of his childhood trauma that he has been avoiding like the plague hit him square in the chest and he grimaces.

He sees red waves of anger and hears roars of malice. Flinching, he takes a step back, fingers hovering over the open button.

His stomach grumbles in retaliation. He stares at the refrigerator, contemplating whether he should whip up a simple dish instead of eating yet another microwavable junk (no offence to his beloved pizza), but decides against it when he opens the refrigerator for the nth time that night and gets reminded of how it contains not a single item that could be categorised as real food. There’s literally a carton of beer, a small pathetic stick of butter and a tub of kimchi, courtesy of Jimin’s mum. Well, he could just eat the entire tub of kimchi if he’s really that fearless.

He’s really this close to eating his pizza cold until–

“What are you doing?”

Jungkook jumps out of his stupor, gasping unabashedly and almost drops his precious 10-inch pizza on the floor. Whirling around, he sees the bleary-eyed you propped against the entrance of the kitchen and he trips over his words at your sudden appearance.

“Oh, h-hey Y/N…” He replies, but it sounds more like a squeak.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

His mouth does a weird, nervous thing that is probably supposed to be a smile but looks more like a wince.

“Once again, I live here.”

You gawk at him and the gears in your brain start to question the little remains of his own. You’re this close to biting his head off, but decide against it. Let there be peace tonight.

Shutting his eyes, he wants nothing more than a bottomless black hole to open up before him and suck him in for good to avoid exposing his vulnerable side to you. Even a stranger could tell that you see him as an abomination – yes, you’ve made it that obvious – and he’s more than sure that the wrath of the sleepy you is tenfold worse than your normal contemptuous self.

“What are you doing?” You repeat, because are you really interested in knowing what Jungkook’s up to at 3am? Not really. You have better things to tend to, like making your fifth cup of coffee of the day and tending to your paper that’s urgently due in less than three hours.

“Well, the plan was to eat my pizza but I’ve got to heat it up,” he manages to sputter out, still grabbing onto his frozen cling-wrapped pizza for his dear life like a fool. As though you’re out to steal his food.

“And…?”

“And…”

“What?” You hiss in annoyance, squinting your eyes at him and he takes a few steps back from you.

To be honest, you don’t even know why you’re talking to him. You should be cooped up in your room and smashing away at your keyboard, but you’ve been watching your stupid housemate stand idly in the kitchen for at least a good seven minutes, and he doesn’t look like he’s capable (or that he even has the slightest of intentions) of heating his pizza up. Well, maybe he likes his pizzas frozen and hard… Totally no judgment though.

“Can you… Do you mind…” He mutters under his breath, staring hard at the ground and avoiding all eye contact with you.

“What?”

“Um, I-I’m afraid of it.”

“Of what?”

Slowly, he inches his head upwards and for the first time that night, he locks eyes with you.

“The microwave,” he mumbles under his breath and you manage to catch it, but you question whether you’ve heard it correctly.

Your mouth opens and then snaps closed. You repeat this in your state of stupefaction as your brain tries to process everything and a disbelieving “what?” floats through the appalled expanse of your mind.

He grunts loudly and buries his head in his cling-wrapped pizza. “For fuck’s sake. I’m scared of the fucking microwave.”

“W-What? Why?”

“I’m scared that it’ll explode?” He asserts, looking away from you again.

“Okay…” You inch closer, eyebrows raised teasingly, sarcasm laced in your voice, “So you’re making me microwave your pizza so that if it explodes… it’ll be on me—”

“W-What? No! Of course not! I just—”

A grumble from his stomach cuts him off curtly and he freezes like a rabbit caught in a snare.

Stifling a laugh, you tongue along the inside of your cheek, mulling over the proposition. Seeing how his eyes are glassy with desperation, you take his food from his grasp, stuffing it inside the microwave without hesitance.

He backs away and cowers meekly near a cupboard when you close it shut.

You prop your chin on your hand as you quietly watch the microwave roar to life. Behind you, Jungkook watches how your eyes follow the rotation of the plate in the microwave. Maybe because he’s starving and it’s late and he’s not thinking straight, or maybe it’s because he’s surviving on countless of bottles of Red Bull, but he thinks you look pretty like this, especially when you’re not being sarcastic or lashing it out at him. He appreciates how you don’t ridicule him further for his phobia.

His little jump at the beep that signals that his pizza is done doesn’t go past your notice. Swiftly, you take out the plate and hand it to him. His hand brushes you gingerly when reaching for it and he beams when his pizza is finally not frozen and sad-looking.

“Wow,” he chuckles dryly, “I didn’t think you would help me.”

"Bitch, I may be Satan’s child,” you grit, mocking his words, “But I’m not that horrible of a person to let you starve. Or eat frozen pizza for that matter. Give me some credit, will you?"

“You want some?” He mumbles with his mouth full.

You stop to consider for awhile, but decide to fuck eating healthy.

“Well, if you insist.”

“I didn’t. But go ahead.”

At that point, Jungkook’s stomach grumbles for the nth time and you cannot help but grin at how dumb he looks. He laughs in return, flaunting his bunny teeth and then scratches the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Sorry, just a little hungry.”

"It’s okay. At least you’re not eating it straight from the freezer.”

“Hey, I was really… desperate.”

Both of you don’t realise that you’ve spent at least five minutes standing in front of the microwave, bantering with each other. For god’s sake, Jungkook still hasn’t even taken a second slice, too occupied with teasing you.

“I’ve got to… go back. My paper’s due in," you check your watch, "Fuck, 2 hours."

With a pizza slice shoved in his mouth, he laughs at your fumbled self and mutters something along the lines of good luck and a thank you.

“Yeah, whatever,” you reply lamely, brushing him off.

You return to your room with a smile curled up on your lips. But you swear that that doesn’t at all dull the disdain you have for him.

After that incident, Jungkook has become a ghost. Not in that way, but he and his mop of raven black hair start to appear literally fucking everywhere in your view, haunting you like the plague, as though his mere presence in the apartment is not annoying enough already. Whether you’re queuing for food, getting your daily dose of caffeine or rushing for class, he’s somehow always nearby much to your dismay. The Computer Science block isn’t even near your faculty, so you have no idea why he’s hanging around the places you frequent. He’s a bug, you swear.

Whenever you see him, he always has a grin on, which is neither snarky or cocky but you can’t deny that he naturally carries an aura of natural confidence, which amazingly moulds into palpable cockiness whenever you’re around.

You don’t ever acknowledge him, though sometimes he will throw himself on you, begging for your attention to piss you off further.

Like how one day after lecture, you’ve bumped into someone on your way out of the LT, causing the person to drop his books. You’re about to apologise because it’s only everybody’s natural instinct, but your face falls when your eyes land on the culprit’s face. Jeon fucking Jungkook.

“Y/N!” He gasps dramatically, voice laced with faux-enthusiasm, “What a great coincidence!”

Rolling your eyes, you huff as you grab his books and shove them into his chest, “You did that on purpose.”

“Now, why would I do such a thing?” He chuckles boyishly.

“Why are you even here?”

“To bless you with my presence. Oh and the last time I checked, we don’t have assigned spaces, or seats for that matter, in college. I can go anywhere I want.”

You open your mouth, clenching and releasing your fists to tamper down the vexation that is threatening to escape your throat. You’re cracking your brains for a witty riposte, but all you say is, “Shut the fuck up.”

You know you’ve lost the fight.

Shooting him one last glare, you whirl on your heel, storming away from him and out of the building. Though the chilly autumn air is welcoming, heat sits high on your cheeks.

You’re angry. Fucking livid. You feel hopelessly tormented by his stupid grin, his stupid almond orbs and stupid, stupid smirk.

With no better place to obtain advice and vent till your mouth runs dry, you’re grateful when Sooyeon and Jimin ask you out for dinner and you spend the entire night ranting about the very bane of your existence, in hopes that they will show you the light on how to deal with that pest.

“He’s fucking annoying. Like I don’t understand how someone can be this childish. He’s in college, for goodness’ sake! But he’s… so fucking immature like how the fuck!” You cry out as you stab your fork into another fry.

“I honestly don’t understand why you hate his guts,” Sooyeon says. “He’s really not that bad…”

“Sooyeon, how could you!” You place your hand against your chest in mock offence. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“She’s right though. Jungkook’s one of the most affable dudes I know and he’s not a fuckboy,” Jimin shrugs, biting into his burger. “He’s not that bad, really.”

You mull over every single interaction you’ve ever had with him. Besides the usual squabbling in the apartment, you don’t have that many non-heated (read: civil) interactions with him, but they all fill you with anger and anxiety.

Your friends don’t understand shit. They will never understand how it feels to be Number 1 on Jeon Jungkook’s hit list.

“He literally hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t. Why don’t you give him a chance?”

“We are just polar opposites all right. Incompatible. It’s like he’s born to ruin my life.”

“He told me that you helped him with the microwave the other night?”

“He told you?”

“As a passing comment.”

“Right,” you clear your throat as your brows furrow, “Dude, how bitchy do you think I am?”

“Out of 10? Maybe a solid 12,” Sooyeon teases.

“Fuck you.”

“I said what I said.”

“I may be a heartless bitch, but I wasn’t about to let that boy starve. He just… looked so dumb standing in front of the microwave, okay? I just had to help him.”

“Who knew you had a nice bone in you?” Jimin shoots you a look and the humorous quiver of his lip is unmistakable.

“I’m nice, okay…” A little affected by their teasing, a bitter undercurrent cruises beneath your words.

“Aww sweetie, you’re nice, okay?” Sooyeon pats you on the back, “Though you act like a bitch, your heart is pure. If only people saw this side of you more often.”

Call yourself competitive, but this streak between you and Jungkook is impossible to be wiped out. He still tries to rob you of your seat in lecture and make your life a living hell with his stupid pranks and lack of proper social etiquette.

Nobody is actually surprised when the two of you come bursting through the doors during lecture at 8 freaking am for the nth time. Even your professor stops shooting you two a look that screams “what the fuck are you two on again”, but what’s more important is that you manage to reach to your seat, yes, your seat before Jungkook could beat you to it. And he spends the next two minutes scrambling to find one in the crowded LT. You can’t explain how satisfied that makes you feel.

Towards the end of the lecture, you find yourself lifting your eyes and turning towards Jungkook’s seat, only to find him already gazing directly at you. You twist your lips, rolling your eyes disdainfully, and shoot him a cold-eyed stare that has most people cowering. But Jungkook of course, is not like most people, and just stares back at you stubbornly, his gaze piercing.

You try your best not to break the eye-contact, but it’s hard when there’s a heat simmering under your skin, tinging your cheeks a translucent pink.

“You win,” he mouths out.

You stick out your tongue at him, who reciprocates your childish antics and soon, both of you fall into a contest of who can make the ugliest face. Jungkook starts to change up his retaliation strategy, flaring his nostrils and crossing his eyes and you have to stifle your laughter throughout the lecture.

When lecture finally ends, he’s about to pack his bag when he hears the telltale sound of a camera shutter and he whips his head around absent-mindedly.

“D-Did you just take a photo of my face?”

“And if I did…?” You shrug, waggling your eyebrows.

“Delete it, Miss Grumps!”

“Pay me, bitch.”

He lurches for you and hooks an arm around your neck in a headlock, hunching over your torso and nestling your face against his stomach as you squeal out of surprise. The students around you stare at the both of you blankly, confused as fuck.

Do you guys… like or hate each other?

“Fuck off, Jeon!”

“Pay me, bitch!” He mimics in a pitched voice to mock you.

You refrain the urge to screech, but there’s a wide grin playing on your lips. There’s a strange tightness in your chest – your heart is swelling and you can feel it swell everywhere, the tightness fluttering throughout every vein in your body.

To your housemates’ relief, the intensity of your discord with Jungkook has decreased tremendously and you no longer have a strong desire to bite his head off, but old habits die hard and he’s still up your ass.

He’d be the reason why the shoes at the entrance are always a mess, why the toilet seat is always up (at least he cleans up, thank god), why your cereal is always finishing so fast, and also the only reason why all your snacks are now on the highest shelf and you’re not exactly the most vertically inclined. It’s like he’s doing this on purpose.

“Jeon Jungkook!”

“Yes, Miss Grumps?” He answers from behind and you whirl around, only to shriek when you see a shirtless Jungkook in front of you, hair still damp from his shower, and rivulets of water snaking down his collarbones and down to his bare torso. He is adorned in only a pair of low hanging sweatpants that show off the ripples of his toned chest and arms and the trail of soft hair down his navel.

“What are you doing?” You screech at him.

“I just came out from the shower and you called for me…?” He replies in confusion, but the smirk that plays on his lips doesn’t escape your notice.

“Why the heck are you not wearing a shirt? Do you not have enough white shirts to wear?”

“Why? Like what you see?”

“I might just have to gauge my eyeballs out.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, grumps. And for the record, I could never have enough white shirts.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. It’s really hard to not stare at his body, or drink in the view (you’d rather die than admit that he is fucking swole), but you remind yourself of the reason why you called him in the first place.

Pointing to the highest shelf which is painfully out of your reach after rummaging through the kitchen cabinets like a squirrel in November, you glower, “Can you kindly enlighten me as to why the heck are all my snacks up there?”

With a faux-innocent expression, he chuckles dryly, “And why do you assume I know the answer to that?”

“Because no one in this apartment is as annoying and childish as you and your shrivelling one brain cell.”

“Really? I’d say that you’d make an equally strong contender.”

A taunting smirk inches its way onto the edges of Jungkook’s lips and you want to sock him in the face and wipe that vicious smirk off his lips.

“Next time if you need help, a please would be nice.”

“I wouldn’t need help in the first place if you stopped putting my snacks on the highest shelf.”

Shrugging, Jungkook uncoils from his slouch, rising to his full height. You draw in a furtive breath, painfully aware of how his frame looms over you, trying to ignore the weird feeling in your belly, but the sheer tactile sensation that sends a chill down your spine is electrifying.

As he effortlessly reaches towards the highest shelf, you realise that his face is so close to yours that you could memorize the flecks of amber in his dark orbs, the curve of his mouth, the long eyelashes that frame his sparkly doe eyes, the little mole under his lip and the tresses of smooth hair falling into his eyes.

As if on cue, his eyes land on yours. A stunned silence encompasses the space between you, sitting heavily in your lungs. He stares at you with a scrutiny that has you breathless, like he is drinking every inch of you in.

A softness settles into the lines of Jungkook’s face, but it disappears instantly when his lips quirk in the corners.

“Now, what would you do without me?” He teases, his voice is deep in timbre and so quietly convinced that it permeates through every last ounce of irritation and you feel a flutter in your chest.

You don’t reply.

Jungkook continues to drink in the sight of you and the closeness of you. Heart thumping away, you suddenly find Jungkook’s hands on your waist, startling you out from your trance. He then leans closer towards you until the tips of your noses are brushing against each other.

A blush blooms over your cheeks and snakes furiously down your neck when the sudden intimacy of the moment draws upon you. His eyes are soft and there’s a wisp of a smile on his pink lips.

A witty comeback stays bubbled in your throat at the proximity and you forget how to speak. You swear that he can practically hear the gears in your brain turning frantically because right now, you can only think about how his touch on your waist burns, how ticklish his breath is on your face and how warm it feels to be pressed up against his broad frame.

“You’re very welcome, Y/N.”

Drawing in a furtive breath, your hands fly up to shove him away. How could you think that Jungkook was decent? He’s practically a living devil.

“Y-Yeah, whatever.”

“Geez, when will you ever start being nice to me?”

His eyes continue to search through yours, but you refuse to give him the time of the day. You just wonder why he always looks at you like that, with the annoyingly bright glint in his eyes.

“When you stop being annoying.”

“But I will never stop annoying you.”

He pinches your nose and you freeze once again, warmth scattering over your skin in the rise of gooseflesh at the sudden contact.

His words are laced with a hint of ardour, but he does his best to conceal it as a small smile appears on his lips. “Good night, grumps.”

“Nights,” you mumble under your breath as he retreats back into his room.

Gaping blankly at Jungkook’s bedroom door, you raise a hand to rest on your cheek as warmth continues to flare in the full of your cheeks, tipping your ears pink.

Back in the quiet confines of your bedroom, you spend a lot less time completing your work as you should, and a lot more daydreaming about firm arms and twinkling eyes. You can’t deny that he has really pretty eyes. And a nice bod, if you might add.

You think back to the smile that he flashes you. His smile isn’t one of those sarcastic ones that he wears when he’s challenging you, but a genuine one that makes the stars in his eyes come to live, waving to you with their little glowing hands.

This is not good.

The warmth at the pit of your stomach never leaves – it has wholly decided that it’s here to stay. As long as Jungkook is involved.

A loud, piercing siren jolts you out of your sleep and you grouchily turn to glare at your clock. The luminous numbers of 3:19am scream at you and it takes every ounce of your being not to scream back at it.

“Fire drill, guys!” One of your roommates – you think it’s Jimin but everyone kind of sounds the same with hoarse voices at 3am – shouts over the shrilling pain. “Get your asses out of your beds!”

Groaning loudly while making a mental count of the minutes of precious sleep you’re about to waste, you pull yourself out of bed and rush out of the dorm without fumbling for your jacket. That’s a very bad decision, you realise, because it’s fucking freezing outside.

Amidst the sea of blur faces, loud groans and unabashed yawns under the moonlight, a particular back catches your attention, alongside the dishevelled bed hair and long limbs clad in a bright yellow jacket. You squint your eyes at the particular colour of the outfit and you realise that it’s a fucking Pikachu sleeping set.

And it belongs to none other than Jungkook.

“Jeon,” you grumble beneath your breath.

He does an absentminded turn and gawks blatantly at you, before breaking into a chortle, doubling over.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Me? Your eyes trail down to your pyjamas and you freeze for an infinitesimal moment, as if paralysed when your old and worn-out Pooh Bear shirt and pink floral pants come into view. Really, what the fuck are you wearing. Considering that this is hell week, you haven’t had time to breathe, let alone have time to do laundry, so you could only settle with your old Pooh Bear shirt.

Biting back your embarrassment, you hiss, “What the fuck? At least I’m not wearing a Pikachu sleeping set.”

“Hey, don’t you dare insult my precious childhood friend like that.”

He feigns aggravation, but the expression on his face is a cross between amusement and endearment, and the way it makes your heart soar terrifies you.

“You’re impossible,” you let out a hearty laugh.

At this, Jungkook feels a little warm inside his chest. He kind of wants to hear this laugh more and often. Believe it or not, even in your sleepy state, he thinks that you look lovely.

He opens his mouth, ready to continue the banter, but someone calls your name from behind and you turn away from him.

“Y/N!”

“Oh hey, Jooheon.”

You have Ethics class with him, but you’re not that close for him to come up to talk to you. Heck, you didn’t even know that he stays in this block.

“I can’t believe they have a fire drill at this timing. That’s like… illegal.”

Beside you, Jungkook has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Jooheon notices that the latter’s loitering awkwardly around you and glaring intently at him, but chooses to ignore his piercing stare.

“Right, so um, you needed something?” You ask, cocking your head slightly.

“Oh no, just thought I’d say hi. You look cute in your PJs.”

Even though this is Jungkook’s first time meeting this Jooheon dude, he already decides that he doesn’t like him. Not even one bit. Jungkook’s usually great with psycho-analysing people at first sight and there’s something immediately off about Jooheon. He can feel it in his bones.

He continues to glare intently at Jooheon and then he realises that the jerk is blatantly staring at your boobs. You’re not wearing a bra and your worn-out Pooh Bear shirt does nothing to hide your nipples that are now perky from the cold.

“So Y/N, do you want to go out—”

“Y/N!” Jungkook screeches on cue, causing you to jump in shock.

You jerk your head at your housemate’s sudden outburst and thank god for him, because you don’t really want to listen to the end of Jooheon’s question. Jungkook’s doe-like eyes, which are notably round like a deer caught in the headlights, are now narrowed angrily and the deep crease between his eyebrows mars his honeyed skin, further accentuated beneath the hazy yellow lamplight.

“What—”

You’re about to ask what’s up with him, before he cuts you off by grabbing hold of your wrist, tugging you away from Jooheon’s predatory gaze.

“For fuck’s sake Y/N, c-can you please?”

“What?”

Jungkook strips himself out of his oversized hoodie and unabashedly throws it over your head as you scream at his abrupt antic, struggling to rid yourself of his hoodie.

“Just keep it on!” He seethes in conviction, wrestling the hoodie down on you and you realise that it smells so potently him.

“Why?”

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he whispers sternly in disbelief, teeth clenched, as his gaze slips southward from your face. His arms fold indignantly over his chest in rage and you blatantly ignore how the lean muscles of his biceps peek out of the sleeves of his thin white shirt.

“O-Oh… Right. Shit, sorry.”

You flush from the tips of your ears down your neck. Your fingers start to pick at a frayed thread of his hoodie under the weight of his intense starry-eyed gaze. Lowering your eyes, you stare at how your frame is drowning in his hoodie and think about your dear Pooh Bear smiling underneath the soft cotton. It looks big on you, but it makes you feel so warm, causing a tingling warmth of sweet honey gold to reach even to your own fingertips.

“Keep the hoodie on till we get back,” he mutters, his raspy voice echoing with timber, rich and velvet.

He settles his arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to your other housemates. You ignore how tall he is beside you, how protective he is over you, how gallant you thought he was when he just tugged you away from Jooheon. You ignore how his signature scent wafts through the air. It’s a comforting, homey that rests softly on your nose.

As you walk to your apartment with Jungkook and the rest with his arm still around you, a subconscious smile pulls at your lips until your cheeks ache and you don’t care if people think you’re on crack for smiling so widely at 3am after a fire drill, because the sound of your erratic heartbeats echoes louder than any siren.

Vines are entangling the hole in your heart, buds sprouting on the outskirts.

Your heart is blooming.

And you don’t know how to feel about this.

It’s a Friday night, which means that you, being the homebody you are, have holed yourself in your room, content with a cup of hot tea and your laptop, while your housemates are out partying and having a life.

You’re on the way to the kitchen to refill your tea when you pass by Jungkook’s room. His door is left slightly ajar, though the room is dark and your footsteps come to a halt. Jungkook normally leaves his door shut, while the others like to keep it open regardless of whether they’re in or not. Curious, you slowly walk towards the door, peeping in through the side of the door frame.

And the view that lies upon you leaves you in utter shock, rendering you speechless. Your jaw drops, your mind losing all semblance of focus while your train of thought diminishes like an exploded lightbulb.

The room is pitch dark, except for the moonlight filtering through his gossamer curtains. But you can see Jungkook clearly. On his bed where he lies. Bare thighs caressed by his fluffy blankets, boxers tugged down to his ankles, and thighs spread apart.

You know he is swole, but damn seeing his naked body in its fullest glory? Fuck. For the longest time, your eyes linger on the very harsh lines and sculpted muscles of his hard toned thighs. You’ve never mentioned this to anyone, too ashamed, but you do know how to appreciate nice thighs. And Jungkook’s? The bomb. Hella thick. But your eyes almost bulge out when you realise the very reason why he has his head tossed back and eyes shut closed.

He’s jerking himself off.

Gulping to yourself, your very first instinct is to pretend that you didn’t catch him in the act and simply go back to what you wanted to do in the first place – to refill your tea, but your eyes can’t seem to look away from his hand that’s tightly gripping around his throbbing length, which peeps out every now and then as he pumps himself vigorously.

Your eyes trail up to his golden skin, his chest that’s glistening with beads of sweat and the hazy expression on his face and then southwards again to the popping veins on his arms, his sculptured abdomen and even lower, to the line of hair and veins trailing towards his aching length. Caressing his slit with his thumb, he spreads pre-cum all over his tip and continues stroking his dick at a fast pace.

You can’t even count how many times you’ve cursed within the last minute, your mind a clouded, salacious haze.

What’s dirtier than your subconscious thoughts of wanting to suck Jungkook dry and be fucked by him into the next century is the hoarse moans and sweet whimpers escaping his lips, reverberating through the room. The lucid squelching and sticky sounds from his hand and wet dick are absolutely sinful, but so, so tantalising to your ears and wetness starts to pool between your thighs.

He suddenly sits up and throws his boxers on the ground and for a moment, you think that you’ve been caught red-handed and quickly hide behind the door. But instead, he grabs his pillow and positions it underneath his crotch, slowly rocking his lips against it. Within the slightest of seconds, he starts to grind against it, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. His teeth even sink into his bottom lip to suppress the moans threatening to escape his lungs with each grind.

"Oh god, Y/N," he whimpers, once more looking down at his pillow between his legs, precum smeared all over the pillowcase.

You freeze.

What the fuck. Did he just moan your name?

You’re supposed to oppose to this, scream at him for getting off to you. But at the sound of your name, a primal instinct has been instigated deep inside you, lighting up a hungry flame within you. You shouldn’t be eavesdropping to Jungkook getting off, but what the fuck. The way he’s moaning your name so keenly, as if it’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world, spikes goosebumps along your arms. His moans are so hot and filthy that you’re panting softly at the increasing volume of his honey-dipped voice and you can’t help but rub your thighs together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, grabbing the pillow closer to him so that he can buck against it better. “Babe, fuck yeah.”

As he continues to moan louder, heat travels through your body in electric arcs, paralysing you and tensing your muscles.

He’s suddenly arching up and you watch as his hands go back to wrap around his cock. He pumps himself faster and sloppier than before, determined to reach his climax. After a few seconds, he stutters before letting out an ardent groan, enjoying the waves of pleasure that deafens all of his senses. You watch with wide eyes as he milks out spurts of cum onto his clenched abs and pillow, still moaning your fucking name unabashedly.

Chest rising and falling in quick succession, a stupid hazy smile then plays on his lips and heat returns to simmer under your skin, tingling your cheeks a bright cherry red. There’s this insinuating urge coursing your veins, causing your pussy to quiver in need. Your panties are all soaked.

Fuck.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to sit on his dick.

Let’s be honest here: there have been some changes in your relationship with Jungkook. He has been occupying more and more of your mind. The memory of him in his bed with that fucked-out smile of his keeps resurfacing in your mind like a bad heartburn. It has you weak in the knees. You can’t stop thinking about his face. And his fucking dick. And him dry-humping his pillow.

You can’t stop thinking about Jungkook and him stroking his dick, coming while moaning your name for fuck’s sake.

You don’t stop repeating the scene of his hand around his dick going up and down until you hear it: the scraping of a key inside its lock. You listen to the familiar sounds of Jungkook kicking off his shoes on the floor, and then two seconds later, he’s appearing in the entryway to the living room, his charm already so damn loud in the stillness of the apartment.

At the very sight of his face, the many lewd images of your housemate flash before you. You grimace at the taunting visual, suddenly remembering that you were nearly overcome with your desire to lick every inch of his golden skin and suck his aching dick.

This is going to be awkward.

Sensing that you are extra quiet because you’re not barking at him about god’s knows what, he saunters over to the living area where you are mindlessly scrolling through your phone, “Hey, you okay, Miss Grumps?”

“Yeah, just… tired,” you croak awkwardly.

“Don’t you have classes till 7pm?”

“You remember my schedule?”

“Y-Yeah? You always come back late on Thursdays.”

“O-Oh right,” you mutter. Your other housemates remember your class schedule and it’s totally normal so that they know when to expect you, but somehow it’s different when it’s with Jungkook.

“Decided to skip class today. Wasn’t feeling well.”

A look of concern flashes across his face. Dropping his bag on the floor, he walks towards you and presses the back of his hand on your forehead, worry burning at the edges of his regularly-cocky tone. “A-Are you okay?”

Your face burns at the touch of his skin and you tense up instantly.

Sensing that you’re all flustered, like there’s a fire in your stomach and the sparks are floating up into the darkness of your eyes, he jokes, “You’re not extra grumpy for someone sick. That’s strange.”

“Shut it, would you?”

“Alright, I take it back.”

He pauses for awhile, looking at you up and down before adding, “Is that my hoodie?”

Tilting your head slightly, you instantly look down and gawk at your outfit. You’re wearing your favourite black Puma hoodie – what is he going on about? You are wearing your hoodie… except that it’s 2 sizes larger.

You bring up your sleeve to smell the fabric and then it hits you. A familiar and refined homey scent, mixed together with your honeysuckle perfume. The familiar awakening tingle shoots down your spine once again.

“Oh my fuck, shit I’m sorry,” you proceed to tug it over your head.

“It’s cool, you can keep it.”

“What? You don’t want it back?”

“What? I-I mean, it looks good on you.” There’s an uncharacteristically softness that invaded his velvety voice, “So keep it.”

You look up at his face. You can’t place his expression exactly – it’s a combination of amusement and endearment, but the way it makes your heart pitter patter terrifies you. It’s like you’ve just been drenched by a downpour. A downpour of something you’re not sure you understand or ready to understand.

You try to pretend that you haven’t been nuzzling your nose into the hoodie the entire day because it smells like home. You’re just frightened of how much you’ve grown to adore it.

Jungkook doesn't know if there has ever been a thicker or a more dense tension hanging in the air around the two of you and it only seems to be getting heavier with each bated breath. He has a difficult time trying to develop a grasp of diction as he stands in the doorframe of your room, gripping the doorknob with a bit more force than usual, staring at the girl before him.

He finds you hacking away on your laptop, surrounded by mountains of papers and highlighters sprawled all over your desk. He knows better than to disturb you when you’re deep in concentration, but he has accidentally bought too much food and figures that he could share some with you.

Jungkook realises one thing: no matter what you’re doing, he always finds himself sneaking glances at you. He likes watching how your eyes narrow when you’re concentrating, your little mannerisms – like the little pout on your lips when you’re keyboard smashing and how you tend to crack your knuckles when you’re stressed. He doesn’t even know he has taken in all of your little habits and registered them into his brain, but what he knows is that: his eyes always search for you, no matter where and when. Whenever your eyes light up with a smile to match, he feels as if he might as well be caught on fire.

He hasn’t called out for you yet, because he knows that you love to drown yourself in loud music when you’re studying so he stalks over to your desk and gently taps you on the shoulder.

You jump slightly when you feel a hand on your shoulder and sigh loudly when it’s just Jungkook and his stupid wide grin.

But your eyes soften at this smile. His doe eyes are crescent-like whenever he smiles – they’re always so bright and expressive with a mesmerising, enticing gleam.

“Have you eaten?”

Removing your earpiece, you shrug, trying to maintain an unfazed expression, “All I had today was coffee and stress.”

Jungkook gives you the bitchiest eyeroll and brushes off the sarcasm – he probably has grown jaded to it by now.

“I bought take-out for us but it’s cold now, so…”

You suppress the smile that threatens to play on your lips and nod. He doesn’t even need to say it explicitly – you know exactly what he’s inferring.

“We definitely need to stop eating take-out and microwavable food. That shit be nasty.”

You two walk down the corridor to the kitchen in comfortable silence, arms brushing against one another. He turns to look at you quietly and gets so distracted by how otherworldly you look that it takes him a moment to hand you the food in his hand.

Nobody is hogging the living room – Sooyeon and Jimin are on a date and Namjoon is probably asleep like a log. The windows in the living room are left open and the chilly air is welcoming, embracing you two in a comfortable silence; in your private alone-time.

After heating up the food while Jungkook sets the table (which just includes getting banana milk for both of you – he doesn’t mind sharing them with you now), you settle down on the seat opposite him and soon become fall into a comfortable conversation. Of course, it includes your usual bantering.

“So… when did you start, you know, having a phobia of microwaves?”

He raises an eyebrow before letting out a slight chuckle, “When I was 6… I put an egg in the microwave.”

“You did what?”

“Yeah, I stupidly did that. The egg exploded and it was loud and so scary and I got scarred after that incident… So yeah, I haven’t touched a microwave ever since.”

“But you live off microwavable food, what the heck? Then what about heating up food at convenience stores?”

“I’ll ask the staff or an innocent nice-looking customer to help me?”

“Then how are you going to survive in college? You live in a dorm, microwavable food is basically your life,” you chastise.

“Well…”

“Well?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

His voice is infused with honey and velvet. Something about his tone sets a pit of warmth in your stomach.

You look back at Jungkook and find him already staring back at you. There’s something in his gaze that makes your limbs heavy. It makes you feel trapped and lost in the depths of his eyes, warm and inviting.

“W-What?”

You notice Jungkook’s rapidly drumming his fingers against the table, while chewing on his lower lip.

He’s nervous.

“Um I-I mean, you’re always here for me to annoy! And the guys are here to help me too, so I think I’d survive.”

“Geez, I swear you’re only nice to me because I’m here to save your ass. If the microwave ever explodes while I’m heating up your food, you’re going to pay by taking care of me till I grow old,” you tease as he laughs, giving your arm a little nudge.

You observe how his whole face lights up, how his eyes crinkle in the corners and his smile is so large that his nose scrunches up adorable. The laughter reverberates through the kitchen, bouncing off the walls like bells.

You just don’t know how and when you’ve become so comfortable with his presence, but sarcasm has always been your go-to with him, especially since it helps to cover up how your voice is two tones higher whenever he’s around as of lately. Also, because saying “I hate you” is easier than saying “I actually like talking to you and when you’re not bothering me, it feels weird like there’s something missing in my life” and “your laugh is actually really nice, can you laugh more often”.

Jungkook’s feet are still beating rhythms into the leg of the dining table, his hand mindlessly stirring his long-cold noodles. He feels a little ridiculous to be happy about eating with you, especially now that the conversation has dialled down to nothing more than chewing and sipping. Every so often, he will glance up at you as he brings his chopsticks to his lips.

"So… How come you’ve been abnormally nice to me lately?"

"Huh?"

"You’re just nicer than usual…?” He trails off, “It’s kind of weird."

"Well, I can kick your shin right now if you want?" You bite with every inch of sarcasm you can muster, but anyone could tell that your tone is fond.

He laughs again, a low, velvety rumble from deep inside his chest and your lips curl up as well. The smile that you give Jungkook over the rim of your bowl is so unexpectedly bright that it makes something bubbly and yellow swell inside of Jungkook and he reflexively smiles in return, bright and honey-sweet.

You can feel Jungkook staring at you, only inches away – staring at you like that, like you’re the light of the moon, like you hold the stars in the night sky with your very palm. So you pretend to be occupied with slurping your leftover broth, desperately trying to prevent your cheeks from igniting under the warm gaze that deftly lights upon you. Maybe that’s why you end up spilling your food, but you spill it half the time on your own anyway.

You jump slightly when the liquid dribbles down your chin and onto your shirt.

“Ah, shit,” you say, quickly wiping away the mess off your chin.

You’re about to ask for a napkin when you feel fingers cupping your face. With the pad of his thumb, Jungkook brushes the underside of your chin. It’s a playful gesture, but also so affectionate that it’s very unlike of Jungkook and you freeze up as if paralysed.

Leaning in, he’s so close that you can feel the flutter of Jungkook’s breath on your face, how it hitches and quickens. You stop fidgeting, eyes focused on Jungkook who quietly wipes away the liquid on your face with his thumb. He’s still staring straight at you without a word, and you see that same soft sparkle in his eyes that does nothing for the wildfire claiming the land of your chest.

Looking into his eyes is like sitting close to a fire that suddenly blazes up. Slowly, you feel a smile growing steady across your face, and even though your heart has been racing this entire time with Jungkook by your side, it manages to beat a little faster.

Jungkook, for the life of him, suddenly realises that he has a huge, embarrassing and debilitating crush on you one fine day and he doesn’t know what to do with that information. It’s opposite of the saying – surprised, but not disappointed.

If someone were to ask him exactly why he has fallen for you, in which nobody would since he is insanely good at hiding it and he has never told a soul, the answer would be simple. Underneath your tough exterior and sky-high walls, you’re so full of love and your heart is more delicate and softer than anyone else’s.

After a full semester living together, you two have grown more comfortable with one another and your interactions go beyond just bantering with each other and eating microwavable food together. On Fridays where everyone else would be out, sometimes you two would watch a movie together and that has become a routine that you guys follow religiously.

Today isn’t an exception. You two are huddled on the couch, sharing a blanket and relishing in the warmth and comfort of each other’s body heat.

Upon coming to a realisation of his feelings, the flutter in Jungkook’s chest has become more obvious and more out of control – his heartbeats are a perpetual merciless staccato rhythm whenever you’re around.

The Avengers is playing on the screen – it’s your turn to pick this week and while he loves Marvel, he pays no attention to the movie because you’re comfortably curled up beside him.

Delirious with exhaustion, you roll over to face him, your body already sinking into the softness of the sofa. You snuggle up closer to him, pressing your chest against his arm and you wonder when he started to feel like safe harbour.

Instinctively, his fingers reach out for yours and he starts to play with them, rubbing circles onto your palm with his thumb. He strokes up your wrist, before bringing your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your hand. You tilt your heads towards his and you can see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes, so warm and soft.

He looks like a dream, tan skin and dark hair, lit golden in the light from the TV screen.

You heart ricochets in your chest, skipping a beat and you feel the need to hold onto something, so you grab onto his sleeve. Eyes tracking over his face, mapping over every curve of his facial features, you feel a smile slowly growing across your face at this intimacy.

Silence hangs between the two of you and you can almost feel Jungkook’s eyes tracing the line of your collarbone where it disappears inside your sweater, his thick and dark eyelashes fluttering just a fraction with each breath.

A cherry blossom blush blooms over his face, crossing the bridge of his nose and spreading over his cheekbones. Jungkook reaches up and brushes the underside of your chin with the pad of his calloused thumb. This gesture, so affectionate and ginger, prompts another smile to creep on your lips.

He lets out a soft chuckle, locking eyes with you as if spellbound by the sparkly glint in your eyes.

“Are you okay with this?” He asks in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning into your space. His voice, deep in timbre and infused with honey and velvet, washes every last rational thought of yours and you feel a flutter in your chest, running through your veins like blossoms of gold.

And you nod without thinking.

In the briefest of moments, Jungkook leans in, palms cradling your blushing visage, and brushes his lips over your grin, so lightly that it feels like you’re swimming in a field of fully-blossomed roses. At the softness of his lips against yours, your stomach coils.

When you feel the supple skin of his lips meld against your teeth, you push back fervently. It's an amalgamation of teeth, mumbled names and unspoken feelings that are coming to a head and finally bursting – absolutely everything you have imagined and more.

Hooking your fingers in the collar of Jungkook’s shirt, you inch closer and you can hear his heartbeats, which almost sound akin to the rush of the ocean in a seashell.

It’s a little less gentle now. He nips harder at your bottom lip, rolling the flesh in between his teeth gently before trailing his lips down your jaw and to your neck. You sigh loudly in bliss when he sucks faint lilac bruises into your skin, as if determined to ensure that they’ll be clearly visible tomorrow and that you’ll curse at him for marking you with spots that even your best makeup couldn’t cover up.

His fingers start to skirt beneath your blouse, tracing circles on your waist and slowly snaking their way up. Even when your tongues are entangled in a hot battle, it is sensual and romantic. It doesn’t help that Jungkook keeps making such sweet, lulling noises, like someone is plucking at his heartstrings, creating a melody just for you. All because of you.

The very thought of that makes your body tingle with warmth from the tip of your fingers to the hollow space of your heart.

Hands wandering south, you can’t help but slide your fingers under his shirt and drag them over the planes of his abs. His body is warm and it’s making your head spin, tugging furiously at your heartstrings too. You want to get his shirt off and see all of Jungkook. Your heart feels like summer rain, warm, light and pattering. You want to melt into him.

Parting from you moments later with swollen lips, he doesn’t break eye contact from you and you see stars in his eyes that shine nothing but ardent adoration and fondness for you.

There is a sharp tug of fear and discord in your chest and you feel your heart drop.

Then everything clicks.

This is wrong. So wrong.

“Jungkook,” you whimper, his name leaving your parted lips in a dulcet whisper. Your heart spikes in your chest and your stomach unravels and knots again. When you let go of his shirt, you feel like you’ve let go of a piece of your heart. You feel like puking.

“Y-You’re someone special to me, Jungkook.”

He feels his soul pitfall into the depths of his stomach, knowing very well that there’s a ‘but’ coming next.

“That’s, um, nice,” he says, feeling his face and throat flush. “You’re special to me too.”

Looking deep into his orbs, you realise this: he has heart eyes for you, like you hold his entire world with your mere breath.

And to be very honest, you’re terrified.

“But I-I can’t, Jungkook.”

There’s a long pause and the silence presses against you, weighing so heavy that you feel like you’re being suffocated. The voice that crawls out of your lungs barely feels like your own and you’re not sure if you mean what you say. The words sting like nettle leaves on the tip of your tongue.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

A wave of panic cuts through the pins and needles pricking down your spine as he remains quiet. You half-expected him to make a sarcastic comment or smirk at you for punking you with the kiss. Instead, he’s just staring at you blankly and his vacant expression is an abyss – it’s unnerving.

Jungkook maintains his silence like the moon and the silence in between you continues for moments and moments, as if the world has come to a halt. It’s so quiet that you could hear the erratic thumping of your hearts.

Then he opens his mouth. “Oh, okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats succinctly, sounding more helpless by each second, “If that’s what you want.”

The raw helplessness in his voice fights against the walls in your heart. It’s tearing down the walls, clawing aggressively at them, hopelessly yearning that they’ll crumble down for him.

“I’ll just… give you some space,” he starts to stand up, shoulders drooped low, unable to meet your worried eyes.

When he spins on his heels towards the door, instead of going after him, all you do is gape at his departing silhouette for the longest time and then at the shut door, your heart painfully swelling up to the size of the sun.

You feel your entire world dissolve in slow motion.

Deep down, tucked within a crevice of your heart, you know you want to be as close to him as possible. You want him all to yourself. But you’re unsure.

You’re not sure how to express the depth of what you feel for him or how you’ve grown to love the little things about him. Like how he makes a big pot of coffee and comes into your room to hand you a warm cup every morning, how he sings softly to himself in his room when he thinks nobody is listening, or how he’s always teasing you and making you laugh. How he always looks for you whenever he needs to heat up his food, even when the others are at home. How he brings you peace when there’s a perpetual whirlpool in your mind. When you’re with him, you realise that the weight of the multiverse on you doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

You don’t know how to tell him all these in words and actions and you’re a writer for fuck’s sake. But what you do know is that you never want to see that sad expression on his face ever again.

If there’s one you are especially – and notoriously – horrible at, it would be dealing with your feelings, namely feelings for Jeon Jungkook. Truth is, you hate yourself and you’ve been a complete wreck ever since that day.

“Jungkook.”

Ears perking up at the name, you snap out of your trance and tilt your head upwards. “Wha—where?”

The sound of his name is like blunt nails being hammered into your heart, until the organ is left nothing but a bloody, useless pulp.

“He’s not here, dumb ass. I just thought that saying his name would be more effective than calling your own name,” Namjoon says, giving your forehead a little flick, “I��ve been calling you for the past minute.”

“Oh sorry—”

“You’re whipped.”

“What?”

“You like Jungkook,” Namjoon says matter-of-factly.

You tense up instantly and a deafening silence descends.

Eyes soft and unassuming, he flashes you a soft smile and his face is doing that thing where he gazes at you like you’re made of glass and he can see through your heart and soul. Namjoon, out of all people, knows that a soft and feeble heart is hidden behind that attitude and sharp tongue of yours.

An involuntary sigh escapes your lips and you bury your face into your palms as your suspire lowers into an interminable groan. The uncomfortable, electrifying sensation that you associate only with one name crawls up your spine, like a colony of ants marching on your skin.

Namjoon’s right.

Jungkook has exploded into your life like a firework: bright, loud, and so dearly ethereal. It’s his bright doe eyes and boyish bunny smile that caught you off-guard during your first encounter with him. And somehow or another, he has waltzed his way into your life ever since, seamlessly, like the last piece to your puzzle.

You do notice how your heart becomes all erratic and out of control when he's around. Throbbing, threatening to demolish your steel, collected demeanour into bits. He makes you feel like the female character of a trashy teenage romance novel and as much as you hate the idea of feeling like a 12-year-old, if it’s with Jungkook, it’s fine.

It’s as if you two are meant to gravitate towards each other, fill up the void in each other’s lives and soak in each other’s comforting presence. Ignore your initial hatred for him – you’ve actually grown to enjoy the sweet calm of Jungkook’s presence and company, and even that itself is an understatement. He has planted himself into your life so well that it’ll be freaking strange if you decide to push him out of your life. You don’t think you can’t function properly.

No bathroom singing, no messy sofa, no seat stealer, no microwave adventures. No intimate touches. No bunny smiles or boyish chuckles. No one to make you smile and laugh as though life isn’t tearing you down every second.

You love hearing Jungkook laugh. His laughter is a metaphor that you’ve been trying to pen down for years. And his smile? It’s a radiance of ardent adoration. Utterly beautiful.

And then there’s the other thing – something embarrassing that took forever for you to realise and even longer for you to admit it to yourself.

But you know now and your heart is screaming.

“Yeah, I do,” you whisper back, feeling like the bits and pieces of your brain are coming together.

“You want to date him,” Namjoon raises his brows at your confession.

“I think so?”

“Hold his hand and cuddle together?”

“Yes.”

“Suck his dick?”

“Ye—God, Namjoon! What’s up with your filthy mouth?”

“Dude, don’t act all demure with me.”

“I’m still not talking to you about wanting to fuck Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes, but the grin on his lips says otherwise.

“But that’s great, Y/N. Took you years to acknowledge your feelings. But just to let you know, the kid has been waiting for you to come back home every night. You should go talk to him.”

No matter what you tell yourself or whatever insecurities you have, there is truth that you’ve always had a place reserved for Jungkook in your heart, nestled between fragile hopes and waning kindness.

The boy makes your heart sing. He’s got a soft, sweet heart, a ripe mango of a heart, yellow and full. In between the bantering sessions and microwave misadventures, you have accidentally and unquestionably very much fallen in love with Jungkook.

But you don’t know what to do.

What you know is that you need to talk to him.

The stillness of the hour makes the walls lurch even more seismic when you open the front door, expecting the apartment to be pitch dark. You assume that nobody would be in the living room at this timing and Jungkook would be holed up in his room watching anime or perhaps at a party, chugging down shots as an attempt to forget you and move on with his life because you’re a heartless bitch and he deserves so much better.

However, the little lamp at the corner is lit up and when you walk towards the couch, you see Jungkook curled up on it, drowning in his big hoodie and looking softer than ever. His left cheek is squished from where he is lying down on the pillow.

You heart gnaws at the sight of him and it hurts even more when you realise that he is waiting for you to return.

He stirs in his sleep upon hearing footsteps and fully jerks awake when he hears your voice.

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, reaching out to caress his face, fingers brushing against the scar of his cheekbone. He slurs in response, turning his face into the curve of your palm and brings his hand to caress the back of your hand, causing your heart to snap.

“You’re back,” he announces breathlessly, like he couldn’t believe it. He stares at you with forlorn eyes and you only spare him a half-second glance before turning away, seemingly disgruntled.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly says.

“What? Why are you—”

“Sorry for making you uncomfortable,” he mutters with a softness that invaded his velvety voice.

“Don’t say sorry,” you reach out to grasp his hand, rubbing your thumb onto his palm, “I should be the one apologising.”

“No—”

“Jungkook – listen,” you settle yourself on the couch beside him, “I don’t know what I want. That’s part of the problem.”

You sigh, “I want something from you, but I don’t know what. I don’t know how to name it or quantify it. I don’t like not knowing what to do.”

Jungkook peers up at you through his bangs, deep in thought and even in his sleepy state, he knows exactly that he never wants to let you go. He doesn’t want to lose you. He wants this.

“It’s okay, Y/N—”

“I’m too cynical, always too sceptical. Too mean for anyone. I’m also a fucking dumb hopeless romantic. I want a lot of things, Jungkook. I want to love… but I don’t know if I know how to? I’m not sure if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” he whispers, “I really do. I’m scared too, like really fucking scared. What if I hurt you? What if I don’t love you right? What if one day we might not be the same anymore?”

You lower your head in fear, feeling a ripple of anxiety pass across your chest at the thought of the future and Jungkook swears he can hear the gears in your brain turning frantically.

“But we never know until we try, right? And I… want to try with you. Because it’s with you.”

You curl closer to him, taking in the pleasantly warm and comforting scent of him and he brings you to a warm embrace, pressing little kisses to your forehead.

Silence weaves itself into the spaces of everything around the two of you. It’s comfortable – you feel like you’re finally at home.

It could be due to the fatigue or the way he’s looking at you, so intently, but you find yourself blurting out without a thought.

“Your heart,” you mumble, pressing your hand over his chest and taking in the ghost of Jungkook’s warm breath on your face, “is beating so fast.”

You gaze closely at his visage and drink in the view – his messy bed hair, slightly flushed cheeks, soft pouty lips – and right at this very moment, you can confirm that you’re really stupidly besotted with him. You swear Jungkook has never looked more beautiful than in that moment of him softly gazing at you with a devotion that you can never find in anybody else.

“Yeah,” he breathes out with a soft smile, “It’s always like this when you’re around.”

“D-Did you just flirt with me?”

There’s a tickle that dances across his lips, a sparkle of mirth glimmering in his eyes. “Have been for the past few months, but thanks for noticing.”

A blush paints your cheeks fervently, while your heart is doing a fucking waltz even though it knows shit about dancing, the rest of you nothing but moonlight and air.

“Do you think… you’ll give us a chance?” He whispers earnestly, a tone three notches deeper and your heart gnaws at how gentle and careful he is with you.

Us.

“Jungkook, you have all my heart,” you whisper softly, “You always did.”

The most adorable of smiles slowly forms on his face and it feels like everything stands still around you. You feel the warmth of Jungkook’s palms cradling your blushing features, while he strokes your cheeks lightly with his thumb. A grin moulds on your face that resembles his own.

In that split second where you’re relishing in the ghost of his breath against his face, he leans forward and brushes his lips over yours so gingerly that it’s akin to the caress of a feather. The euphoric feeling of Jungkook’s soft lips on yours directly connects to the bones in your legs and turns them to jelly.

For moments and moments, you swear you could see fireworks and the galaxies splayed out above you.

He feels you softening like clay and relenting to the otherworldly sensation as he traces the tender flesh of your lower lip, the shape of his mouth quieting the chaos in your head. He can taste your heartbeat at the tip of your tongue.

Jungkook slackens his jaw, deepening the kiss. His tongue grazes along your lower lip before instantly meeting yours, tangling for dominance. He can’t resist himself any longer. He wants more of you, needs a taste of what he’s been yearning for so long. He nips lightly at your lower lip and smirks when an unexpected gasp falls from your mouth.

He alternates between licking into your mouth hungrily and sucking on your lower lip and tongue. He kisses you slow and deep, all seeking tongue and teeth, making you into him desperately, all passion and open mouths.

Trailing south, his lips plant a tentative kiss on your jawline and then on your neck. He takes his time, hard muscle of his tongue lapping at your sweet skin, lips sucking until a blossoming bruise begins to form. Your breath catches in your throat, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. He feels you lean against him, craning your neck to give him better access to dust lovebites all over your supple skin.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, relishing in the warmth from his chest.

He hums in response, a low rumbling sound that vibrates against your chest and it seems to ignite something in both of you.

You run your hands over Jungkook’s stomach, down his narrow waist and the bottom of his ribcage, your fingers softly brushing against his happy trail. He tenses up immediately and you stifle a giggle, fascinated by the flutter of his muscles as he breathes when you touch a new spot of his body or graze your teeth over his tongue.

You don’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many times you thought about running your tongue along the tautness of his stomach, or how his jaw might clench when you wrap your lips around his dick.

You want him.

And he wants you too. You can feel it in the way he kisses. How eager he’d be to fuck you dry even if that meant getting caught red-handed by your roommates with his pants around his knees, balls deep in your guts in the fucking kitchen.

“You make me so hard all the time it’s not even fucking funny,” he laughs dryly, looking at you in endearment.

“You know… I saw you masturbating the other night.”

“W-What? When?”

You bite your lower lip at the lewd mental image. “A few weeks ago, you were…”

“What was I doing?” The smallest of smirks starts to tug at his lips. He’s challenging you.

“You were… stroking yourself…”

“And?”

“… Humping your pillow and calling out for me.”

“Fuck Y/N,” he groans, nuzzling his face into your neck, “You’ve got such a dirty mouth.”

“You asked me where you were doing!”

“Did you like what you saw though?”

“I—”

Leaning towards your ears, he lowers his tone and whispers, “You always make me fucking hard, I think I need to punish you for that. Bet you’ll like that, won’t you?”

“Jungkook, what—”

“You got to make it up to me, Miss Grumps. Have a taste of your own medicine.”

“You calling me Miss Grumps totally ruined the mood.”

“Sorry… babe?” He chuckles for a lack of a better response.

You smile again, feeling a ripple of molten and saccharine sweet longing ease its way up your belly at the endearment.

Your eyes track over his visage, his dark eyes glassy with unadulterated adoration and love as he attacks you with kisses all over your face. You can’t hold back the little whimpers that escape your throat and Jungkook ardently swallows every single one, grateful for every single noise you make.

His breath is coming out in warm swathes of air against your collarbones and you glance down to see his eyes, the slow blinks of his heavy lids, each breath laboured and potent with lust.

Pressing his lips all over your throat, wet and messy and wonderful, you whimper when he sucks hardly just beneath your jaw that has got you quivering and that only prompts him to suck on it harder.

You don’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many times you’ve thought of this – him planting hickeys all over your neck, or you running your tongue along the tautness of his stomach, or how his jaw might clench when you took him into your mouth.

“Jungkook,” you break out of your trance and whisper, “I want to suck you off.”

Desire ricochets through his abdomen at your dirty words. He can’t believe his ears.

“Where?”

“K-Kitchen.”

He shoots you a look at your response, but doesn’t probe further when he sees a sly smile on your face, eyes clouded with a salacious lust.

He’s even more turned on by this, smashing his lips on yours again, kissing you so fiercely and passionately. Carrying you over to the kitchen with your legs tightened around his waist, he delights in the friction and warmth of your body against his as your lips are still busily entangled in a hot battle.

You push him atop the counter while your hands worm their way to the waistband of his sweat, tugging it down his sinewy thighs and you try not to drool at his rippling thigh muscles.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” he quirks up an eyebrow, his voice noticeably deeper and gruffer, “The guys are going to be so pissed.”

With a sharp intake of air, he tips his head back with his eyes shut. When he reopens them, he sees you kneeled before him on the kitchen floor, eyes dilated with a virtuous gaiety. You palm his length over his underwear without warning, causing him to groan out loud, bucking forward when you inch closer to give his clothed budge a few kitten licks.

The desperation of his situation only seems to increase in severity when you tug down the elastic band of his boxers and slide them off his legs, finally freeing his erection which springs out from its confines, slapping hard against his abdomen.

Jungkook’s much bigger than you expected, his tip angry and red, leaking with pearly beads that dribble down his length and the bulging veins that line it. He is also hard. Very painfully hard and throbbing red, because you are so angelic and sinful all at the same time, and it’s making him really fucking desperate.

“Fucking hell. B-Babe, don’t tease, please,” his entire body shivers when your hot breath passes through to the sensitive skin of his cock. He’s fucking aching with need.

Jungkook’s jaw drops, continuing his string of curses, but the words are instantly replaced with a breathy moan as you press his tongue to his navel, licking down his happy trail teasingly. Locking eyes with him, your fingers gingerly trace the soft lines of his abdomen, lingering over the sensitive flesh above his member and nipping at it, teasing him in ways you could have only imagined before.

Leaning in, you take his dick in your hands – it’s thick, hot and throbbing with need. Eyes still locked with his, you plant a soft kiss at the head in an almost kitten-like fashion and your tongue tingles at the taste of his pre-cum that already accumulated smelting on the saturated expanse.

You’ve wanted to do this for the longest time. You don’t know how many times you’ve thought of running your tongue along the underside his length from the base to head, taking each ridge and curve into account, your head bopping up and down, pleasuring him to no end and revelling his deep, sinful moans.

You look up through your eyelashes, vision hazy with lust. Jungkook has his head tipped back again in pleasure, his irises are gone, eyeballs rolled back in his head as he clenches down at his teeth to hold back his moan.

The very sight sends an electrifying heat down to your arousal. You want to suck him off so badly and make him feel like the man on the moon. So you start peppering light kisses onto the head, before capturing his length into the warm moistness of your mouth, prompting a raspy fuck from him, and hollow your cheeks enough to press against the sides.

Parting away from his tip, your tongue licks the underside of his cock before finding its way to his balls, sucking hard on them and rolling them around in your mouth one by one. Jungkook bucks his lips forward at this as dirty curses erupt from his throat.

“Fuck babe, that feels fucking good,” he runs his fingers through your dishevelled locks, trying his best to stifle his moans.

Upon his reaction, you smile to yourself, continuing to alternate your tongue between his balls and his hard shaft. When you take his cock into your mouth again, you thrum blithely at the fullness of him, opening your mouth wider to take him deeper until you bottom out, nose brushing against the tussock of cleanly trimmed pubic hair at his navel.

“Fuck, you’re so good. I’m so fucking lucky,” he says, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Saliva pools in your mouth as you start swirling your tongue around the head instead, humming in response at how he tastes and feels on your tongue. The vibrations make him shiver, one hand at the back of your head and the other on the kitchen counter. You pop off audibly after a while, hand still working at the base of Jungkook’s cock, fondling his balls.

“Want to fuck your mouth so bad,” he growls and your entire body quivers.

Grabbing his cock, Jungkook repeatedly taps his meat against your cheek, waiting for your permission before he steers it into your mouth again. With a low, guttural groan, he wraps your hair tight in his fist and starts thrusting his dick into your mouth harder than ever, filling you to the brim.

Your jaw slackens while taking in all of him, the tip of his cock hitting the deep back of your throat. You take in as much of him as you can, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he continues to hit the back of your throat. It’s uncomfortable, but the weight of him on your tongue makes your bundle of nerves burn, your underwear wetter than ever.

“Jesus, you’re fucking good at sucking me off.”

It’s when you hum in pleasure with Jungkook’s cock still halfway down your throat that he lets out something of a wail. His mind is in turmoil and he can’t think straight for the better of him. He can only think about how fucking hot you look on your knees, in between his thighs, giving him the best blow of his life. Eyes hazy and obsidian, he believes that this is the most erotic sight he has ever seen and he’s fucking turned on.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. I’m going to come soon, but I’m not coming unless it’s in your tight sweet pussy.”

“Shit,” you mutter at his filthy talk, pulling back up from his cock to pant for air, but the strings of dibble trailing from his cock to your swollen lips arouse you even more.

“Come on, let’s go to my room before anyone wakes up and gets the shock of their lives.”

He pulls you to your feet, palms smoothing your ass cheeks and smacking each side hard, before he leans in to smash his lips on yours. Fuck, he can taste himself on your lips and in your mouth and this only increases his desire to fuck you senseless. Impatiently, he sweeps you off your feet effortlessly, carrying you bridal style to his room. You try not to stifle at how frantic he is, his red aching cock still hanging out, while his sweats are still pooled around his ankles.

Kicking his bedroom door open, he lies you gingerly on the bed before walking over to lock his door. When he returns with a hazy smile, he lowers his body on top of yours and your hands naturally clutch around his neck. Your heart thumps when you can feel the frenzy of his pulse underneath your fingers.

His fingers secure around your chin, tilting your face up to meet his lips in a kiss, filling you with liquid heat. This one is slow but heated and still leaves you completely breathless. Before you can lick his mouth, Jungkook pulls away from your mouth to slide your shirt up.

You find his fingers carding through your hair as if to soothe your nerves, before they trail down to your neck and over the dark red bruises on your neck from earlier on to rest on your shirt, tapping a rhythm against your chest. You give him a nod and his fingers begin unbuttoning your shirt, delicately ghosting his touch over your breasts and chest so painfully slow that you cry for him to hurry the fuck up.

A satisfied smirk tugs at his lips at each sound of your unadulterated desire and when your shirt is fully unbuttoned, he pulls you up in one smooth movement, tugging it off and tossing it onto the floor.

Sliding a thigh between your legs, Jungkook allows you to rut against him while his hands begin their ministrations, wandering all over your body, inspecting every inch of it, grabbing and squeezing every curve of yours. He bends forward to trail open-mouthed kisses over your bare torso and the knot of lust tightens within your abdomen.

His breath is coming out in warm swathes of air against your skin and you glance down to see his eyes, the slow blinks of his heavy lids that are eyeing your entire body, each breath laboured and concentrated with lust.

His hands rest on your hips as they squeeze and caress your skin each time you whimper his name like a mantra, while he leans forward to your neck again, the ghost of his breath leaving a trail of fire down your throat until they reach your tits.

Tugging your bra down to expose the swell of your breasts, he leans back to watch your face as his thumb darts right over your hard nipple, working a slow, lithe circle around your sensitive nipple before he tweaks the bud in between the pads of his fingers. You feel him lick at your nipple tentatively before he engulfs it in his mouth, sucking it hard while his other hand fondles with your other mound.

It’s a tidal wave, causing wetness to pool between your thighs and you press them together, trying to create some friction or subside the uncomfortable stickiness invading your underwear.

Lowering himself down between your thighs, you wait with bated breath before he starts licking and bestowing kisses on your navel and then down to your inner thighs, leaving you gasping at the sensation of his hot breath dancing across your sensitive skin.

You emit a soft whimper which then melts into a desperate moan when he buries his nose against the cotton of your panties, his mouth teasing your bud through the soaked fabric. Very timidly, you raise your hips, seeking friction, and Jungkook receives you with the same hunger.

“Going to eat you out so well you’re going to forget your fucking name and only remember mine.”

His eyes, hazy with lust, lock with yours and he smirks viciously. The concupiscent blackness you found within them swallows you whole.

Your nerves jitter anxiously, raising tiny bumps of excitement across your skin as his fingers graze over your clit generously. Your body arches involuntarily when he licks a brazen stripe up your folds with his flattened tongue, taking in all of your juices. The sudden invasion of his tongue has you purring in delight.

He edges your clit eagerly, flicking it with his tongue, teasing in circles before he sucks on it roughly and then lapping at it hungrily like a starved man. Gasping loudly, you bring one hand to cover your mouth, your breath stuttering as your other hand goes down to tug hard at his raven locks, your hips bucking forward and into his mouth.

You mewl out loud when he slips his tongue inside your tight walls, fucking you with the flat of his tongue. Just when you think it couldn’t feel any better, he eases one finger into you slowly, smoothly sliding over your soaking wet folds until it’s knuckle-deep inside you. When you throw your head back in pleasure, he adds another finger, pulling his mouth away to focus on scissoring you and hitting all the right spots.

“You like teasing me, don’t you? How about now?”

Without warning, Jungkook begins curling his fingers inside you, spreading your lower lips wide to allow your juices to flow past his knuckles and drip onto his bedsheets. His fingers continue his assault on your pussy for moments and moments, pounding mercilessly into you, the heel of his palm taking its place on your clit.

The squelching sounds of his finger delving in and out of you are melodic to his ears, reverberating through the room. He then brings his lips back onto your clit and the cadence of his tongue on your clit is tantalising, tongue either lapping lazily at your clit or sucking on it ardently.

Adrenaline runs through his entire body, lighting up his nerves like firecrackers. He can’t believe this is happening. “I could eat you all fucking day. You’re so hot, Y/N.”

With the combination of his tongue and fingers furiously fostering your orgasm, you know you’re not going to last for very long.

“Jungkook, please. I’m going to cum soon. Please, please,” you whimper helplessly on his sheets.

Upon seeing your rolled up eyes, parted mouth and arched back, accompanied by the loud moans and cries leaving your mouth, the music of your voice pleading for him, he pulls away from your clit, smiling proudly to himself.

“You’re not coming now. You can only come on my dick.”

You moan disgruntledly at the loss of his fingers and tongue, feeling empty all of a sudden. Shooting him a glare of betrayal, you’re about to scream at him for being a tease, but your eyes widen when you see his flushed skin, plump lips, shiny forehead, your own glistening nectar leaking from his lips and dribbling down to his chin and neck.

And suddenly, you’re tongue-tied, squirming again. The throb in your core is torturous, your entire body is caught in a crossfire as you lie pliantly under Jungkook as his arms cage around you, helplessly soaking his bedsheets.

You want him to wreck you.

He pushes your trembling thighs apart as he settles between them. You whimper when you finally feel the head of his cock prodding at your soaked lips. But he doesn’t enter immediately. Instead, he slaps his cock against your pussy, and the filthy action only turns you on even more, driving your nerves into a frenzy.

It seems like eons when he finally sheathes himself inch by inch inside you, till his cock is up to the hilt, and god, it feels so fucking incredible. The electricity that shoots through your blood is like a drug.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you hiss, threading your fingers into his hair as he groans at the feeling of you surrounding him. He waits for your entire body melts into him before moving. You can only keen at the surge of fullness, clenching around his thick length. Biting your lip to keep yourself from waking up your housemates, you reach up for Jungkook to pull him into another kiss.

With his lips still locked with yours, he fucks you so thoroughly, the agonising roll of his hips hits that sweet spot with deadly accuracy, your body writhing in pleasure.

The warmth of your pussy makes his eyes roll to the back of his head, especially when your walls mould around every ridge and vein of his cock. He loves watching how his cock disappears into you, your tight pussy swallowing it up to the hilt with no difficulty, taking him so fucking well. So he draws his hips back, and you can feel every inch of his heat going with the motion before he swiftly plunges his cock back into you. Unrelentingly hard. Over and over again.

Your back arches at the sensation and wanton desire for more, moaning his name out loud like that’s the only thing you know.

You can feel the need and lust in his thrusts, from the way his fingers dig into your hips and hold you in place, leaving bruises on your skin as he rams himself into you, without even bothering to muffle the sound of his toned thighs hitting the back of yours every time your hips meet. You fucking love this, fucking love how strong his thighs are, how full his cock is making you feel.

Each dirty, fast slap of skin and the momentum of his cock buried deep inside of you only makes the two of you needier. Jungkook doesn’t tease this time, probably not able to hold back anymore, and the bucking of his hips builds up to a fast, animalistic frenzy, plunging his cock into your body. He hammers roughly against your g-spot enough to rock your body forward and back with every thrust, warming your body like sunlight.

He reaches to fondle with your breasts, tugging potently at your nipple before sucking hard on it. Looking up, you see him smiling brightly, flashing his bunny smile and it drives you insane how he can fucking you so good, but still look so innocent at the same time.

“Love you so fucking much,” an enticing lilt caresses the edges of his already hoarse voice, the smile on his lips growing wider. It’s the same fond grin he gives you when he sees you in the kitchen, in the hallways in school and when you’re back home after a long day at school and goes straight to join him at the couch after you two were past the I-hate-you-fuck-off stage.

“Love you, love you, fucking love you.”

A saccharine smile dances in the corners of his lips as he kisses you roughly, the shaken quavers of your moans thaw in the heat of his kisses, as his hands grope your ass tightly, still fucking you so well.

Each slickened thrust is accompanied with a deep roll of his hips so that he is right there inside of you, causing you to feel choked at how close you are. Hazy with ecstasy, you roll your head against the pillow, nails digging deeper onto his back.

With eyes rolled back, your entire body trembles with pleasure as your cunt suctions around his cock, alongside the burning feeling of fire pooling low on your abdomen. You’re clamping down on him hard enough that he’s delirious, his steady pace becoming more frenzied.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Jungkook. I’m coming!”

He leans forward to press a kiss on your eyelids, whispering sweet praises into your ear as he brings one hand to rub the small hard bub unrelentingly to relieve your tense bundle of nerves.

Determined for you to reach your high, Jungkook grabs at your knees, hiking your leg over his shoulder and you let out a cry at the new position.

“You love this? You love it when I fuck you harder?”

You scream out a yes when he taunts you even more, feeling every single ridge of his dick against your walls as he fucks you at a better angle of access. It feels so, so fucking good.

He speeds his hips up so much so that the sound of skin slapping fills the room, almost overpowering your moans. Almost. You don’t even fucking care if your housemates can hear your filthy moans.

“Fuck,” you groan shamelessly when the coil inside you grows tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter. “J-Jungkook, I’m fucking cl-close. Please, please!”

“That’s right,” the smallest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth upon hearing you beg and he continues to fuck you harder than before. Fucking you into oblivion. “Come for me, love.”

Beneath his touch, you feel light and heavy all at once, while a white heat pools in your belly. Your body locks up entirely and then dissolves into an erratic series of spasms. Your legs writhe uncontrollably alongside a torrent of ecstasy that splurges from your center, head spinning to static noises and hot moans as Jungkook holds onto your body firmly to help you through your climax.

After your high, Jungkook resumes to move in and out you, while a combination of a hoarse moan and your name is strangled out of his throat from the depths of his lungs.

“Shit, fuck, I’m coming,” his voice trail off and his thighs tense as he slams into you, holding your hips firmly in place. Your small fingers thread through Jungkook’s hair, holding him close and urging him on.

“Come inside me, please. I want you. I want your hot cum.”

He lets out a deep moan, his face burying into the crook of your neck and shoulder as he rides out his orgasm, moaning and whimpering into your ear as he releases deep into you, spurts of warm cum filling you so full and spritzing your walls white. He ruts into you until your pussy milks him for all he’s worth.

He can feel his pearly cum oozing out of your clenching entrance, slipping down your trembling thighs. He doesn’t pull out just yet, dick still nestled inside of your tight walls, wanting you to feel full with his cum. When he finally pulls out, he collapses on top of you, planting kisses all over your face before nuzzling into the warmth of your neck.

Still trembling with the power of your orgasms, the both of you stay like that for a few minutes, just catching your breaths and enjoying the swims of your heads in a comfortable silence.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breaks the silence with a chuckle before sliding down between your legs again.

“W-Wha—”

Prying your legs apart, his eyes land on your pussy that’s dripping with his cum and he lets out a guttural groan at the dirty view. He gives your clit a chaste kiss and your hips buck up into his face as he gathers his juices onto his tongue, tasting the otherworldly mix of your juices.

“I’m cleaning you up, babe.”

Flushing red like summer cherries with a hazy smile dancing on your lips, you whimper. “H-Ho—”

He cuts you off by diving right back in to lick a stripe up your slit and you jolt, both legs trembling and breath hitching in your throat. Soon, he has his face buried deep in your cunt again, lapping at your cunt and even throws both of your thighs over his shoulders to keep you from slamming your legs shut.

It’s so fucking filthy. And so unbelievably hot.

When Jungkook pulls back with his spellbinding smile, licking the leftover juices on his lips, you feel as though you might come for the second time. He surges forward to meet your lips and your head spins from tasting the sweetness of your juices together.

He places another tender kiss to your forehead before settling onto his back and you naturally roll yourself over, nuzzling snuggly into his warm embrace.

It’s a cuddle fest in the middle of the bed arms thrown over each other, legs entangled despite the remaining sweat and love juices. Jungkook is grinning hazily at you, breathless, and he feels his heart do a fucking waltz. He sure can live with this.

When morning arrives, the sun is shining through a different window than you’re used to and you’re not your bed. The air is orange and the sunlight that bounces off the bedroom walls is nothing but welcoming. Rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you see fragments of dust in the air, whirling around like snowflakes.

Beside you on the bed is Jungkook, who’s sleeping soundly, with dishevelled locks and swollen lips and the rise and fall of his chest comforts you more than you’d ever know.

At this, the memories of last night come rushing back to you almost immediately and your heart gnaws at how real this is. You look around Jungkook’s room. You see the few pictures on his wall and you spot one with you in it, sending your heart ricocheting even more furiously in your ribcage. There’s a fire within you that’s made of soft, satin embers whenever you think about him.

You can still remember the moment you first laid eyes on Jungkook – how you were clouded with anger about the boy who stole your seat during lecture. Who would have ever imagined that you’d be here in his bed, hopelessly in love with him.

Jungkook starts stirring awake in his sleep when he feels a sliver of warm sunrays permeate the thin skin of his eyelids. When he fully opens his eyes, he’s met with the sight of a beaming you (he thinks that you outshine the sun, but he decides to keep those thoughts to himself) staring straight at his face.

Your smile doesn't falter or diminish when you’re caught, but only increases, as a soft good morning leaves your lips, while the tip of your tongue tastes of honey sweet and last night’s dalliance. He mumbles a good morning back, planting a kiss on your lips and the two of you look at each other.

This is something. To be seen by another human being. To be vulnerable and transparent with no filters. To be transparent. This something is love. Love that’s easy. Like a liquid or gas. Love that finds its way in. Love in its simplest form. Love that the two of you understand.

“Breakfast?” You card your fingers through his locks, before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Only if you help me with the microwave.”

From the warmth of your caramel eyes, to the tender slope of your nose and to the apple of your cheeks, his eyes soften at the sight.

“Actually… Maybe I should do it instead,” he adds, his chocolate brown eyes flicker from you to your fingers, lacing your fingers with his.

“Huh?”

“Well, I can’t let the microwave explode on you, can I? I’d never bring any harm to you.”

“Dude… That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said,” you grin, humour colouring the corners of your mouth.

“I poured my heart out to you and you think this is the sweetest? Geez. And you just dude-d me after I fucked you so good last night?”

“Shush, love is a willingness to sacrifice.”

A summer-night silence which lay for a thousand miles envelopes the two of you, both of you just enjoying the swim of your heads.

Jungkook breaks the silence, voice softer than ever, “I do, you know?”

“Huh?”

He reaches for your hand and brings it up to his lips, pressing tender kisses on your knuckles, with the little stars glistening in the velvet night sky of his eyes, “I do love you.”

But before you could respond, a beep comes from your phone and you instinctively reach out for it.

[From: Namjoon]

[12:37] for fuck’s sake… the walls are thin in this humble abode fyi

[12:37] our poor ears…

[12:37] you guys went from figuratively fucking each other up to literally fucking each other

[12:37] as least you guys… are happy and not trying to kill each other

[12:37] happy that you all have found love uwu i can cry right now

“Fucking loser,” you mutter as you hand Jungkook your phone to view the incoming messages. “Namjoon’s onto us. This is so embarrassing.”

“I think we were a little too loud last night.”

“And whose fault is that?” You tease with a waggle of your eyebrows.

“I’d take credit where it’s due,” he laughs and you don’t miss the glint of mischief that hides underneath the flutter of his eyelashes as he engulfs you in another tight embrace.

You think you like this, maybe a little too much: your head on his broad chest, his chin on your head as you lie snug in his arms, fingers interlaced, heartbeats as one. You adore how perfectly your body fits in Jungkook’s calming embrace, how he holds you like you are his world, not too tight and not too loose. Like you hold the stars in his eyes in place.

“You make me weak, Jungkook,” you murmur softly like the way a snowflake would fall, lips hovering over hips.

He hums in response and presses a kiss to your forehead. Brushing your hand gingerly over the latter’s jaw, a smile flutters on the edges of your lips with utter adoration, with a love so blazingly radiant that it rivals the intensity of the sun.

Pressing your lips onto Jungkook’s, you whisper, deciding to dismantle the high walls of your heart for good, “But I love you. So much that I don’t mind being weak with you.”

Note | Finally.... it’s up. A big phat uwu, everyone!! 45 pages on word doc. It has been a long, insane ride writing this – I think I started in August after posting Set On You. For my lovelies who’ve been waiting for this fic since forever, thank you for waiting and expressing your excitement for it! I love you guys so much :( I’m such a slow writer sksdjsdsdsd and I don’t know why my fics are always so long – it’s like I have so many things I want to write and I can’t leave out any scene?? Formatting it on this site takes up like an hour,,, but wbk.

Thank you for reading this and if you enjoyed it, hit that like or reblog button or/and hmu in my inbox/dms! ♡ Merry Christmas and have a great 2019! There will be more fics to come (probably shorter ones... pl0x)

Also, I added my thigh kink for you Ash uwu @jiminspjm

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