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maybankiara · 6 months

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PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

22: BETWEEN THE LINES

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead. w/c: 3.3k a/n: addie and holden having a sweet moment at last...or are they? read on wattpad previous part | series masterlist

Virgin Mary | 3:47am what are the odds on this being a big mistake

Me | 8:02am 0:1000000000 Me | 8:02am stop freaking out, you’ll be fine

Virgin Mary | 8:30am Addie Virgin Mary | 8:30am i am going to Tom’s Virgin Mary | 8:31 amfor all of the fucking holidays 😩

Me | 8:35am Marianne Me | 8:36am my beloved Me | 8:36am you said you wanted this, you said that this is the best for your relationship, you said that this was the right thing to do Me | 8:36am and Tom said he wants to take this step Me | 8:37am you’re just scared bc it’s a big deal

Virgin Mary | 8:38am AND WHAT ABOUT IT 😡

Me | 8:40am it’s okay to be scared Me | 8:40am but you’ll be fine ❤ Me | 8:40am let me know when you land

Virgin Mary | 8:42am supportive bitch Virgin Mary | 8:42am ❤

◇

It’s evening time at the Weatherby-Mallory residence, and there are nearly half a dozen’s worth of cups scattered over the living room. Some are on the TV stand, next to a framed photo of the roommates and their friend group that Wes got Marianne for her birthday; some are next to the wall, far enough to avoid potential spills; and some are on the coffee table, nearly hidden between pages and pages of files, all compiled into little folders with corners sticking out.

It would be an ordinary evening for Addie, except this tends to be the setting of her bedroom, not the living room. With Marianne gone for the next few weeks, though, Addie’s life has already consumed even the shared areas of the flat, and Addie finds herself to be a bit spoiled by the newfound commodity – she doesn’t see how that tiny space was ever enough for this much work. Although, now there are Holden’s files, folded away between and over and under her own, so she may be overestimating it a little.

Her phone dings, somewhere in the pile. She drops down from the couch, a little ungracefully – her foot gets stuck in the pillow and she nearly kicks Holden’s shin tugging it out. He chuckles and she groans, and then she’s rummaging through the files until she finds the phone, its screen still lit from Marianne’s text.

‘They landed!’

‘Oh, good,’ says Holden.

‘Mhm. I’ll tell her you say hi.’

Addie’s fingers are fast at typing, even though she needs to fix a typo here and there. She asks Marianne how the flight was – it’s always a necessary question, seeing as Marianne likes flights just about as much as Addie likes clowns. Maybe even less. The one time they’d flown together to Boston, Marianne had a full-blown panic attack during one of the turbulences and Addie spent the rest of the flight trying to calm her down.

But it’s good, she tells herself. She had Tom with her.

(Or that’s why it wouldn’t be good, her thoughts say, and she shoves them away.)

‘You look worried.’

Addie huffs. ‘I’m not.’

‘You sure?’

She glances at her phone once more before putting it down, on yet another pile of papers still needing to be looked at. She gets back up on the couch, draws the fuzzy scarlet blanket back over herself, then pulls her knees close to her chest; Holden’s eyes don’t leave hers.

‘I don’t know,’ she admits. ‘Should I be? I mean, Marianne and Tom… You know they’ve not been on the best of terms. Even if Marianne says things are better now.’ She lets out a little sigh, stretching her legs across the couch, almost far enough to touch Holden’s thighs. ‘I hope they don’t kill each other.’

‘They’ll be fine,’ he says. Addie half expects him to put a reassuring hand on her leg—it feels like one of those moments—but he doesn’t. ‘They have their ups and downs, but so does everybody.’

‘Yeah, but this will either make or break their relationship.’

‘I thought you said they’ve been doing better since after her birthday.’

‘They are,’ she says. She pulls her legs back, wrapping her arms around them and resting her head on her knees. ‘I just don’t know if that’s enough.’

‘Still, it’s more than likely that this will improve things between them.’ He gives a smile that’s both soft and the sort of smile you give when you’ve said all there is to say about something. ‘Come on, work will distract you from worrying about them.’

Addie bites her lip. ‘Yeah.’

His gaze drops and he’s fully immersed into a Balance Sheet that Patty asked them to look at. His red pen is quick to run across the paper, and it’s as if any thought of Marianne and Tom has already vanished from his head.

She tells herself that Holden’s right. She’s too subjective.

But she doesn’t manage to convince herself of that, nor does she manage to get back to work. The papers are staring at her – notes upon notes of information about a client’s accounts and receipts of purchases of property involved, as he is suing a property investment company for scamming him out of about a hundred grand. At this point, Addie’s looked over the case so much that the numbers are starting to merge, the calculations are dancing on the page, and some of them even look like the letters M and T until she blinks it away.

Usually, Addie loves catching scammers. She loves fighting for the good side. She loves when she can be crunching numbers and putting them into actual economic trends of property values and similar – but it’s just not coming to her.

So she puts the papers back on the coffee table, picks up her mug, instead.

‘They were arguing a lot last night,’ Addie says and waits for Holden to look up at her before continuing. ‘He came over because they were leaving together and I heard them yelling all the way from my room. Neither of them really wanted to go like this, but they bought the tickets back in, like, October. Before all this shit went down. And they didn’t want to waste them.’

Holden glances down at the papers, then back at her. ‘Is that the only reason why they went? Because of the tickets?’

‘I don’t know. That’s what Marianne hinted at, but I still think they’re both hoping for fresh air to do them some good.’

‘What do you mean, fresh air?’

‘Metaphorically,’ she explains. ‘Different country, different setting, different circumstances. I spoke to Tom the other day and that’s kind of what he said, too. Changing where they are might be the thing they need.’

‘That’s not really how things work, though.’

‘Why not?’ Addie cocks her head. ‘They’re getting a new perspective on their relationship. Taking the next step, with her meeting his family.’

Holden lowers the files onto his lap, running his hands through his hair. SHe knows that look—the I’m going to give you all my attention now look—and waits for his eyes to meet hers, heavy and unwavering. He takes a deep breath before he speaks, his lips shut tight until he’s ready, and she’s seen him do this so many times before. Always before he says something he’s convinced is right about.

So Addie is waiting. Expecting. Not sure what she’s going to hear.

‘Look, you can’t fix a relationship that’s not really going anywhere,’ Holden says, at last. ‘Both people need to put the effort in. To be the people they need to be in this relationship, for the other person. You can change the environment the relationship’s in, sure, and maybe it works for a while, but it doesn’t change that if they’re not a good fit, they’re not a good fit. Marianne keeps the issues between them from you for a reason, and that’s because she knows the truth.’

He gives her a tight-lipped smile and then his eyes and hands are back on the file in his lap; if Addie wasn’t a part of the conversation, she could’ve been fooled that it hadn't happened. Over. Just like that.

‘Well, I think they’re a good fit. They care about each other enough to at least try to be the partner they need to be for one another.’

Holden glances at her, but doesn’t say anything other than ‘Fair’.

Addie just stared at him.

‘I’m going to make myself a cup of tea,’ she says, getting herself out of the blanket. ‘You want some?’

‘Sure,’ says Holden, not looking up from the paper he’s scribbling notes on.

The walk to the kitchen is brisk. It’s a little bit chilly out of the blanket, and she thinks she should probably turn the heating up a little – but the tea will warm her up enough. She fills the kettle and turns it on, rubbing her upper arms as she leans against the countertop. The sight of snowflakes moving in the wind past her window makes it feel even chillier.

Addie’s mind replays Holden’s words, over and over again, as she hears the papers rustling in the living room. She wonders if he’s right – if she’s just hopeful and naive, thinking that her best friend could come out of this victorious. Marianne is fighting for it. Tom is fighting for it. They’re trying, and Addie feels like that’s the bit that Holden is missing. They’re not just accepting the status quo – they’re trying to find the issues and fix them.

Or, really, Addie is starting to think that it’s the effort to be the right person for someone that is worth more in a relationship than just being the right match from the beginning. It’s about growth, and most importantly, growing with the person.

That is why she thinks Marianne and Tom will stick it out. Will see how far they’ve come when all the worries are stripped away, once in England, and why they’ll be able to bring it back all the way to Atlanta.

The kettle brews to a halt, steaming their kitchen window until she can no longer discern the snowflakes. She thinks of Drew, and how excited he was for the snow, and wishes she could go out and have fun in it – anything not to have to think about things.

She doesn’t think Holden would be too keen on it, though, so she abandons the idea. Really, maybe it’s a good thing. It’s the most productive she’s been in ages, only coming to the kitchen to brew tea or coffee, or eat, in between hours-long bursts of working on cases. She’s burned through more tea in the past few days Holden’s been here than she has in months, it feels like, but she’s also burned through as many cases. She can’t think of the last time she was so productive.

Or so tired.

Addie calls out to Holden. She pours water into the mugs, one for his coffee, and one for her tea (she doesn’t think she’ll ever fully forgive Marianne for getting her so addicted to tea when coffee is right. there.) and get back to work in the living room. Everything ends with getting back to work.

If she gets all the work for the internship done today, she could spend the next few days focusing solely on fixing up the loose threads from her thesis, and then hopefully things will remain at a constant level and she’ll manage to get everything done and over with before she goes home.

Home.

Her plane ticket is booked for less than two weeks from today, yet she can hardly picture herself coming home. She’s not been since last Christmas, and even though her family came to visit back in May, it’s not the same. She was working on her Master’s, even then, and maybe Addie is just a little bit tired of working.

‘We’re having tea in the kitchen,’ she announces. ‘We need a break.’

Holden argues they can keep working. Addie reiterates her statement, holding the mug to her chest, and he drags himself into the kitchen a few moments later, frowning at her lazily as he leans his side on the doorframe.

‘What’s the long face for?’ Addie asks.

‘We have a lot of work to do.’

‘Yeah, but we also deserve fifteen minutes of not doing it.’ She nods towards the dinner table, where his coffee sits, steaming. ‘Fifteen minutes for a cup of coffee won’t kill you.’

He walks over to the table with a defeated sigh and Addie follows. He takes a sip and huffs at the temperature, and she can’t help but laugh as she holds her hands over the steam of her tea – and when he blushes, she presses her palms to his cheeks.

‘Addie,’ he says, smiling. ‘Your palms are wet.’

Addie just shrugs. ‘They’re also really warm.’

‘They always are.’

‘No,’ she says, ‘they’re always cold when I’m working because my blood circulation is terrible and stress makes it worse.’

‘Right.’

His hands are over hers for a couple of moments before he brings them all down, and she’s back to holding her tea. Her thoughts grow calmer and the tea warms her up on the inside as much as it warms her hands – Addie feels lighter. Watches the snow fall, and enjoys the moment of peace.

‘I’m really excited to get home,’ she says, feeling a smile coming on. ‘My sister, Liyah said she’s got a bunch of things planned for us and my dad apparently has a list of things he wants to teach me before I’m gone again.’

‘Things like?’

‘Cooking, I think. Even though I have Marianne for that – or, actually, probably because of that. Probably car stuff, too.’

‘What, like changing a tyre?’

‘Ha-ha. Very funny.’

Holden shrugs, like he’s trying to say he had to do it. Even the self-satisfied grin is starting to break through, and she can’t help but smile back.

‘He wants me to get a car,’ she explains. ‘To be less dependent on other people and public transport.’

‘That’s not a bad idea.’

‘But I like public transport,’ Addie argues. She thought she knew that – that he’d be on her side in this. ‘It’s better for the environment.’

‘That’s a fair point.’ He glances around the kitchen. ‘You’ve still got leftover lasagne from Marianne left before she left, right?’

Addie nods, accepting that the conversation is over. ‘You wanna heat some up?’

Holden nods and she spends the next few minutes watching him struggle with navigating his way around the kitchen. It’s amusing, really, and she doesn’t feel bad about it – she laughs into her cup every single time he tries to find anything, and looks for it in the wrong place at least five times first.

‘I don’t know if I’m going to stay home for long,’ he says then, once the oven’s on and the lasagne is finally heating up. There’s an expression on his face that Addie doesn’t recognise – heavy. Conflicted. ‘My brother’s in his teenage destruction arc and it’s driving my dad crazy.’

‘Shouldn’t you help him out?’

‘He can handle it better than I could, even with his Parkinsons.’

Addie finds herself staring at him, comprehending this information – information that she feels like should’ve come up at least once in their just-under-two months of being together. ‘Your dad has Parkinsons?’

‘Early stages,’ he says. ‘It’s not really a big deal. They caught it early and he’s on medication, so he’s doing alright.’

‘You never said.’

‘Didn’t think it was important.’

‘Holden, it’s your dad.’ She waits for him to say something, but he’s just staring at his cup. ‘I feel like that’s more of a reason for you to stay longer. To help him out.’

Holden sighs. He leans back into the chair and she feels his legs brush hers before finding their own space under the table. ‘He’s been going fine. Jack’s only fourteen, so it’s not that bad. Besides, if I’m home and having to look after Jack, I can’t concentrate on work. I can’t risk the quality of my work dropping because of that. Don’t want to reduce my chances of Grubson giving me the job at the end.’

Addie didn’t even know that was what he wanted – but she doesn’t have the energy to deal with another bombshell. ‘It’s nice that you’re so determined and hardworking, and it’s one of the things I like about you most. But at the end of the day, no one should put work over people they care about.’

‘Well,’ he says, slowly, as if choosing words carefully. ‘Work’s what puts bread on my table.’

Addie’s jaw clenches. ‘Work won’t be by your side if things go sideways and you need someone to help you out.’

Holden has a confused face, then frowns. ‘Am I meant to read between the lines?’

‘No, I’m not—I wasn’t talking about us,’ she clarifies, feeling her heart thumping in her chest. ‘I was talking about choosing work over family.’

‘Right,’ he says.

He doesn’t say anything else. Addie wishes he would.

The oven timer runs out and he tends to the lasagne, leaving her to ruminate in her own thoughts. She refuses to – she’s thinking about Holden’s relationship with his family and his work, the fact that he hasn’t felt like sharing the fact that his single father has Parkinsons and a teenage son to look after, or the fact that he wants to stay at Grubson, even though she thought he’d said it wasn’t where he could put his degree to best use. But money talks, and so does stability, and Addie feels like she neglects to think that’s one of the most important things for people who grew up in unstable households like he has.

They eat the lasagne and her thoughts don’t shut up.

‘So,’ he says, ‘have you found any evidence of the scam in the Magellan v The State case yet?’

‘I don’t feel like talking about work,’ she says.

‘Okay.’

He helps her clean up the kitchen once they’re finished and tells her to thank Marianne for making the lasagne. They’re back to work, but Addie’s motivation is long gone, and it’s taking a lot more effort than it should to get things done. To read. To make notes. To sit by Holden and bite her tongue before she asks questions that’ll probably reveal more things he hasn’t told her.

She glances out of the window and notices the sky’s gotten too dark to see the snowflakes anymore. Her heart clenches, and she realises she’s done. She’s tired. The kind of tired that tries to drag you down with gravity and not let you get up until a year has gone by.

‘I’m going to bed,’ she announces. ‘I can’t think anymore.’

Holden looks up from the heap of papers he’s holding, taking out the pen from between his lips. ‘That’s fine, I was thinking about going home soon anyway.’

‘I thought you were staying another night?’

‘Yeah, sorry,’ he says. ‘I need to keep working, and I don’t want to bother you..’

Addie lets out a surprised chuckle. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not bothering me. You can keep working in the living room as long as you want, I don’t mind.’

‘Yeah…’ he looks around, then leans forward and kisses her on the lips. ‘It’s better I go. If I stay, I’ll just want to join you, and I’ve got too much left to do.’

‘Okay,’ she says. He kisses her again, and she feels her cheeks heating up.

In the end, she walks him out, and lies in bed alone, knowing she’s going to be alone in the entire flat, and she’s going to wake up alone, too. Thinking about everything Holden said. Think about the things he didn’t. Not only that, but Marianne is on the other side of the planet, and Addie is unable to do anything if things take a turn for the worse.

It’s not a good feeling.

◇

23: A CASE OF THE BUTTERFLIES

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#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #outer banks #obx #drew starkey fanfiction #phone swap series #the readership isn't big on tumblr anymore but that's okay #i love the few of you who are still reading it <3

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rewriteverse · 2 years

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Multiversal Stories

God!Verse this time!

Title: Dreaming of a life with you

No. This is not a forced God! AU. I don't like those as much as others do. Just, to let you know, that this God!Verse the main ship is Drink. :p, hope you enjoy it. Song of inspiration: Hidden in the sand.

We were playing in the sand.

He remembers those times. Creation would run around after him, a game of tag amongst all the AUs. Just Positivity and Creation, laughing without a care in the world. Playing in fields of buttercups in FlowerTale, tea parties in UnderLand, and naps in OuterTale. Just the two of them. He would see Creation's smile, and he would be filled with adoration of the smaller. Creation's bright smile with a laugh sounding like soft bells made him smile and laugh as well. Their pastel rainbow hair braided into a headband before letting soft curls sway with the wind. The multicolored freckles exposing themselves as Creation would flush. The way their eyes would change to a bright yellow with joy, changing with every emotion. He adored Creation's yellow eyes the most. It would be the two of them spreading new muses and ideas to the mortals. Every new suggestion would have a purpose and spread joy. Before Loyalty had joined them. Before Space and Emotions joined them, it was just the two of them and their counterparts: Destruction and Negativity. He never minded their fights, as long as he was with Creation.

And you found a little band.

Then a truce was made, one that was made between the balances of the Multiverse. Life and Death were already in perfect harmony with each other, staying friends despite what everyone thought. Positivity and Negativity brought back together, brothers standing together side by side once more. Creation and Destruction slowing down to talk and get to know each other, finding comfort in each other. His smile grows dim when Creation no longer spends as much time with him, finding more comfort with Destruction. It's in Creation's nature to create bonds of friendship with others, but Positivity thought their bond was special. More so than the bond Creation had with a mortal. Positivity cherishes the times that he can feel Creation's joy, so he lets them be. Even if it is just a few moments every hundred years, he loves being a part of Creation's life.

You told me you fell in love with it, hadn't gone as I planned.

He remembers the day Creation came to him, bursting with euphoria. He had smiled, Positivity had wanted to ask Creation to stay with him, become partners. He wanted someone to love, someone who wouldn't leave him alone. So he stood there, under their tree with a rose in hand. But Creation had other ideas. Creation found love in Destruction, their short friendship blooming into something else. Heartbroken, but he loves Creation too much to interfere. If Creation is happy, he would be too.

So he let Creation go.

Being there in Creation's life was enough for him to be content with. He remained by Creation's side from the beginning, and Positivity wasn't going to leave now. So he stands there at the tree, waiting for Creation to leave before planting his rose before leaving. As time went on, he grew closer with Loyalty as well. A friendship bonded over the adoration of Creation. Loyalty adores the short god for their personality, fragile but so strong at the same time. Yet Loyalty doesn't cherish Creation the way he does. Loyalty finds his adoration in Emotions instead. Just as Positivity loves Creation's minor quirks and habits, Loyalty loves Emotions' quirks and habits. He would watch the way Loyal would talk, cheeks flushed a royal blue as his eyes sparkled, the way he would pick at his cape, he knows. Loyalty adores Emotions as he adores his Sunshine, Creation. It just becomes something else for them to talk about.

When you had to bid adieu.

The wave of despondency Positivity awoke to frighten him. His brother, Negativity, is growing stronger. Life and Death were panicked as well. Something was wrong. Something was causing Death to take more and more souls from the Multiverse, Life trying to keep up with bringing new life to balance the loss. He remembers finding his brother in a panic, it had been years since the truce, yet something was wrong. Negativity was as nervous as he was. They didn't want to fight anymore. Yet, something happened when the two brothers followed the despondency to its source. Loyalty and Emotions were the ones to find them first. Destruction had broken the truce. Waves of Creation's magic and waves of Destruction's flew between AUs as they fought. The gods clashed for hours, yet it felt like months as he watched them fight. Bringing Positivity back to their shared beginning. Creation fighting destruction, Negativity fighting him. All of the gods wait, watching as the fight grows slower. Creation was in tears as Destruction left the battle. Having gone back to the Anti-void rather than explain to them why he attacked. Creation was hurt, and he could feel it. Where did his Sunshine go? Why did Destruction harm his Sunshine? It was too many questions for him to think about.

Said you'd never love anew.

Loyalty remembers how Positivity rushed to Creation to see them, despite growing weaker. They remember running too. Creation, a delicate thing, was curled upon themselves with tears. Creation's hair was matted with black blood oozing from the cut on their head. No one knew what prompted Destruction to attack the past years, for the balance was pleasant for the two. Creation wanted to make a successor for them, having put some of their magic in a jar to mix with Destruction's magic when the time was right. He listened to the tale of Creation, how Destruction found the container and smashed it before diluting the magic Creation had put in it. The burst of anger Destruction had displayed, no mercy to whom was his partner. Loyalty listened, and Positivity held them close, how his rage towards Destruction grows brighter. How he wants to avenge his friend, yet the need to comfort them is greater than the latter. Emotions and Space were brought closer as Positivity lulled Creation into a dreamless sleep. Loyalty remembers how Creation swore to never create bonds that would hurt them again. Everyone waited with bated breath to see if the two gods would clash once more. Loyalty and Emotions would stand behind Creation as Positivity would stand next to them. He never questioned his anger towards Destruction. He gave it a thought and yet couldn't find an answer. Yet Loyalty never tried to look at any situation differently.

I wondered if I could hold it and fall in love with it too.

Destruction watched as Creation grew close with Positivity. Anger and jealousy filled Destruction as he watched them laugh and play together. Destruction knew Positivity was growing fond of Creation, and Destruction didn't like it. Destruction was never fond of Creation. Creation was too needy. And Positivity was too blind, thinking that Creation has no flaws. Creation is a flawed god, even from the beginning. Wanting ideas, creating new crafts, whispering fancies into mortals, and creating anything they could. Colors had to be everywhere, nothing blank for Creation.

Destruction hated the way Creation was patient with him. The way they remember what he likes and dislikes, the way Creation never gave up his determination to be friends. So he played along, Destruction was sure if he wasn't careful Creation would see that Destruction was using them. Yet every time he lashed out or hurt Creation, they brushed it off with an excuse. He laughed at their stupidity, they were too sweet, and he hates sentimental things. Yet, he couldn't say no to the free food and gifts Creation showered him in. He never thought Creation would grow fond of him. Destruction hated the mere thought.

They are opposites.

Other than friends, nothing more would ever happen between them. He would rather not be touched by flawed beings, be it gods or mortals. He never loved Creation, and if it destroyed something in Positivity, he could play in a game of dollhouse. In the end, he got what he wanted out of the game he played. He had gotten all he wanted from Creation. Yet, why did it hurt so much in that last fight? Why does the Anti-void seem so empty now? He glares at the emptiness. There's nothing here anymore for him. It's pure white in every way he looks. He fleetingly wonders if Creation had taken their stuff back. He grits his teeth before running a hand through his black hair and walking to the right.

You told me to buy a pony, but all I wanted was you.

He watched as Creation became dull. Pastel hair wasn't being colored anymore, leaving it an onyx black. He hates Destruction for what he did to his Sunshine. When the mortal passed, he could help bring his Sunshine back. This was different, Creation stopped. He watched as Creation would leave for their tree, sitting there with an easel and a paintbrush. Yet they wouldn't move, just stare at the blank canvas and then cry. Watercolors were soon a new creation for mortals to enjoy. He would sit there with Creation in his lap and lay under the tree as he would wrap his wings around the two of them. A world of their own, warm and safe from anything that could hurt them.

Their hands intertwined as nothing is needed to be said. Flower crowns of buttercups are made before being left on the floor next to the small bush of roses. Creation would smile at him once again, but it's smaller than it had been. Laugher would ring from the past, carried by the wind as they just observe the flowers sway. Tea parties in UnderLand become tea parties under the tree with Loyalty and Emotions. The warm china would be all made by Creation. While the strawberry tea would be produced by Positivity. Tea is his specialty.

They will nap in OuterTale, weightless in space. Watching the stars as they float with a rope attached to the ground so they can get down. Creation would lay facing Positivity, running a hand through his curly hair. Creation would giggle before telling Positivity how his hair reminds him of snow during a sunrise. Or Positivity would curl around Creation, Positivity being taller than the other, and hold them close to his chest, existing with the other, as he had done in the past.

Years had gone by for the gods, nothing was said of Destruction, yet Death and Negativity had stepped in. He watches as Loyalty and Emotions move in. Creation had made a big house for all of their friends to live in if they chose. He has been here the longest. His aura bursts and roars to life when he feels Creation's presence. He smiles as Space makes the house his second home. He smiles at Creation as he watches them start to bake once more. He wonders if the mortals will get another recipe for a new baked good soon. He feels his attachment and adoration grow as Creation smiles at him once again. Eyes a golden yellow in excitement and joy; freckles fully colored once more; their pastel rainbow hair now a vibrant rainbow cut shorter than before.

Hidden in the sand.

They are so quick to love, let their emotions direct them. That's the beauty of creation and the beauty of mortals, who Creation was made for. They've watched mortals try to reason inspiration, arts, and their whispers of ideas. They find it amusing. Yet, that's why they don't like themselves. They become foolish and drunk on emotions before acting. Creation, they know how they hurt themselves with this flaw. So quick to let others use and walk over them. If they need anything, they can make it. Creation can't reason themself; they can't justify why they do anything.

They love interactions and love physical contact. Yet, they don't know why. They adore mortals, yet mortals never last. They thought they loved Destruction. Yet something in them knew Destruction wasn't theirs. They had put too much effort and time into befriending and loving Destruction when they didn't get anything back. Destruction hated contact, barely talked to them, and never did anything for them. Was it all part of his game when Destruction told them how much he loved them?

It hurts too much for them to think about. Then, there's Positivity. So sweet and kind to Creation. They've known each other since the conception of the Multiverse; Positivity and Creation went everywhere hand in hand. They've spent decades playing and fighting together. Positivity, who stepped in to hold them up and help them get through life. The way he smiled at them and treated them so kindly. It reminded them of Gin, their favorite mortal, but not in the way Gin had worshiped him. Creation loves the cherry tree they claimed their own, their haven away from the chaos of mortals and other gods. They love buttercups as buttercups remind them of Positivity. They know that Positivity will be with them until the Multiverse ends. They just need a little more time before they can say the same.

As Creation sits under their tree, a wordless tune could be heard echoing through the void between AUs. A golden rose, breathtakingly catching the light. The rose gives off a warmth of something familiar to them. Creation will give the rose to Positivity when they're ready. The mortals will get a new flower to represent the dawn of a new era of Positivity and Creation. Creation just needs a little more time to heal. Creation smiles at the thought. Perhaps this is how it was meant to be. Maybe this is why they were created together; Fate had written them to be one. Creation doesn't know, but they don't mind the idea. Fate has always told them how much she loves seeing the two of them running around together. So maybe Fate stepped in to make it happen. Creation doesn't know. A silly thought, yet they smile as they close their eyes and sleep under the tree. They'll wait for Positivity to come, and then they'll talk.

#Multiversalstories #dream sans #ink sans #error sans #nightmare sans #swap sans #lust sans #outer sans #drinkship #dream x ink

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 10 months

Text

(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.” Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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