#btscreatorscorner
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ROSÉ | jjk
pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc
genre: smut
word count: 5.7k
summary: on your first dinner date, your boyfriend brings you a small gift—too bad you're too horny to appreciate it.
pinterest board: wine
warnings: a bit of drunkenness, a mention of inner child healing, oc teases jungkook and oc is horny as fuck, dom/sub dynamics, wine!jk, provider jk..., daddy issues, punishment, spanking, food used during intercourse, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), dirty talk, a mention of a sex toy & a mention of a plushie in a sexual context, raw sex, brattiness, jk and oc smoke together
note: OH GOD—IT'S FINALLY HERE. SLFJSLDFJS. A REQUESTED DRABBLE about wine!oc and jungkook. this was so fucking fun to write and i was so hot and bothered from this that i had to take a break............ yeah uhm anyways, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. ENJOY READING AND LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ANONYMOUSLY IN MY INBOX. I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS. PLS AND THANK YOU. ₊˚⊹♡
side note: jk in the first pic made me fucking die. and other things....
The rosy pink nectar has, undeniably, gone to your head.
Your empty wine glass is illuminated by the setting sunlight spilling past your shoulder, reaching its yellow, warm fingers to the tips of your boyfriend’s that rest lazily on the white cloth of the table. You’re woozy, in a lighthearted mood—so much that even the world has lost its heft and all you can sense is the sluggish process of your absorption. You’re engrossed in the way the spring coalesces with the beginning of summer—in the warm evening wind ruffling your curls, tickling your bare shoulders, in the darkening hues of the sky, pinks and violets, in the gray smoke of Jungkook’s cigarette interlacing with the slightly sultry air. You can see it in his eyes, the unfolding of it all. And perhaps you’re tipsy or perhaps you’re just brazenly and foolishly falling in love, because you’re aware that if the man weren’t sitting in front of you, none of these things wouldn’t have caught your attention in such a devastatingly profound way.
He has made you feel so safe. By simply and beautifully laying his feelings bare. To you and for you. Created a haven for you to dwell in, for you to grow in and explore all the dark and light corners of you that have merely seldom seen the face of the sun. How could you not indulge in a little bit of alcohol, when you’re protected in that place of security? Let your girlishness swim a little, refresh herself, enjoy herself?
You’re glowing. You always had been, but your shimmers have gained a new intensity to their twinkles, keeping Jungkook’s liquid stars warm and taken care of inside of you. Their blunt points have carved you into someone else entirely, too. Joyous, cool-headed and absolutely and irrevocably self-assured. Fearless. And his hands have reached deep within and caressed the head of your inner child, healing her and washing her clean, giving her everything she ever lacked. Love, attention, care and validation. Whenever you remember that you never wanted him to get a glimpse of your soul, bile rises in your throat and your stomach hurts.
He saved you. Healed you. Through and through. Gave you his control.
It stirs your never-ending awe that he has managed to do this in a month, and you want to celebrate it. You think now is quite the perfect occasion for it as it’s your first dinner date since you’ve become exclusive. Having spent most of your time at each other’s places fucking, partying and fucking some more, it’s nice to be out, alone with him, that is—and it’s nice as fuck to be out with your boyfriend. The sex has become so different with the label and the rawness of his feelings. And the thing about Jungkook that gets you the most, that strengthens the realm he invented for you, is that once his emotions overflow, the stream of its wine doesn’t stop pouring. The moment he confessed his love for you, ever since then you sense it expressed in everything he does—in the way he greets you in the day, in his tight, burning embrace, in the tenderness with which he holds your hand or kisses it, the relentless, great thought and consideration he puts in the choices he makes for you on the daily. Whether it’s the fatuous things he buys you that mean the world to you, the way he never neglects bunny and incorporates her in everything you do together or… the sex.
Fuck, the sex alone has taken over your life so vividly and drastically that it consumes your brain. There, in that environment, is where the wine of his emotions is the raciest. He’s not ashamed to cry, letting those liquid pearls trickle down your collarbones, quenching the thirst of his liquid stars as he fucks you dumb and enjoys every second of it. He’s not afraid to be loud either. To talk you through your orgasm with even more care and detail than you were accustomed to in the past.
He’s become boundless. And it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen in your life.
God, you’d be crazy not to let yourself fall for him—
“I got you dessert,” Jungkook husks, digging his fingers into the pocket of his pants while his other digits draw close to his mouth. He takes a drag of his cigarette, crinkling his eyes so the smoke wouldn’t get into them and you beam at him with a fire that’s more scorching than the sun’s ever been in centuries, heart doing somersaults at the thought of him thinking of you and spending money on you again. And, also, at how hot he looks while he smokes.
Your love language must be gift-giving. You don’t know what else to connect it to, the joy that envelops your entire being whenever he gives you something. It doesn’t even have to be expensive, nor does he have to pay for it at all. Drawings have become your favorite keepsakes—drawings of his Miffy bunny, drawings of flowers, of you. You’ve hidden them away in a box along with everything he’s ever brought you, except the white bunny ring because you wear it daily and one small, particular drawing that you’ve put inside your glittery phone case.
A cutesy marker sketch of him and you. His arm around your shoulders. Bunny sitting on your laps in the middle, as if she were your own child. Cheeks big and bubbly, pink and twinkling. Your curls the way you wear them; his mullet. A perfect depiction of the pair of you. You gaze at it every single day—prefer to now put your phone face down because of it.
You’re tracing it now with the pad of your finger as you wait for him to reveal your mystery gift to you. The bulby heads, the cheeks, Miffy’s ears. Jungkook puts out his cigarette, puffing out the smoke, away from you, and once he’s done, he taps the back of your hand. Turns it over and spreads out your fingers, inserting, at a snail's pace, something round but slender at the same time, smiling adoringly at you.
What a sight to behold. It steals, fleetingly, your attention away from his hand.
Slicked back mullet, twinkles taking laps in his soft eyes, blushed cheekbones and stretched, pouty mouth, shiny with his liquid love. Long neck that you’d like to devour now, the broadness of his shoulders and chest that could come second as a plain, dark beige shirt accentuates his hard work at the gym.
Oh, fuck. Your nipples pebble against your carmine tube top.
Jungkook withdraws his hand and with blurry eyes, you look at the thing he placed in your palm.
Chupa Chups. Strawberry and cream.
Your mouth parts and it’s a concoction of a gasp and a sound of endearment when the realization that he got you a lollipop sinks in. Your heart flips and does a head stand. Lips round into a pout, drunk eyes softening, its twinkles growing in size and light. It’s like he gave you something golden, when in fact it costs a few wons, but to you it’s exactly that. Something so precious.
You give him an air kiss, bouncing in your seat in joy, fingers already destroying the wrapper. “Thank you so…”
Your brows furrow as the wrapper remains intact. You do a bad, bad job of picking at the tape around the slender stick, your long manicured hands absolutely useless—and the cause of your frustration. You puff out an angry gust of breath, trying harder to get to the sweet delight and it’s at that moment that your boyfriend takes it from your hands with a deep chuckle.
“You silly boo, this is how you do it.” Jungkook pinches the wrapper around the stick and he merely, in a few swift motions, twists the ball until it lets go. He scrunches it in his fists and throws it away in the ashtray. Smirks smugly, leans his elbows on the table, draws close to you. You mirror his position, get to him almost nose to nose, and his smirk deepens, tongue darting out to lick across his lips. You do the same, eyeing the round pinkness in his hand, the sexual attraction and its tension soaring high between you.
Without your hands, you could put it in your mouth, mimic the way you do it on his own tip and make him lose his mind a little bit. It’s right here, an inch away and you dip your head towards it, a magnetic pulling drawing you naturally to it. Sense his gaze on you, sense his delight, sense the flashback glimmering across the wholeness of him. But before you could wrap your lips around it, he moves it out of your reach.
“No,” Jungkook murmurs, breath slightly ragged, holds it up in front of your face, watches as you go cross-eyed a little bit. Hums at the sight, quietly enough for only you to hear. “If you want it, ask for it nicely.”
His puffy lips being so close to you, you desire to kiss him—cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink, his oh-so-loved dominance fucking with your drunkenness and your brain, body altogether. You tip your head to the side, flutter your lashes, make your eyes big and smile at him as sweetly as you can.
He coos, validating you, and it is a force that makes you feel safe enough to submit to him like a small animal to its father. Safe enough to want to get under the table and make him feel really, really good, too.
“Can I have the lollipop, please?”
He groans, still quietly, and your panties drench immediately. You widen your eyes at him, feeling your slick, pursing your lips to scold him silently. He just laughs, amused by it all, and the sound of his joy fills you with elation.
One that darkens, when he asks, “Where?”
You lick your lips, taking in the question, struck by it. Letting your mind wander, the places where you want it, except your mouth, is on your nipples and your clit. Nicely sweet and sticky—for him to clean up, for him to enjoy. Your dewiness soaks the material of your panties and your body begins to yearn for any kind of friction. You’re not sure whether you’re able to stick around in your chair, acting as if nothing’s wrong—acting as if you’re not stupendously horny.
“In my mouth.”
Jungkook makes a noise of appreciation and you’re so frustrated by all those sounds he makes that you want to dig your nails in his arms and make him pay for it. Even more so, when he plunges the lollipop into his mouth and his lips pucker around it, inciting the butterflies in your tummy to go absolutely fucking berserk. You place your hand on his bicep, nails ready to attack, but then he pulls out the treat with a pop, angling it at your mouth.
“Open.”
You thought he stole it from you, but he did no such thing. He wetted it for you, like a father for its child. You’re stupefied to the point that you don't even realize that you’re leaving a mark on the linen material of your seat.
You do open your mouth for him, however.
He twists the ball on your tongue, expecting you to close your mouth around the stick, but you don’t. No, you swirl that muscle around the candy, deepening your gaze, smirking. Jungkook stills, clenches his strong jaw. Darkness flicks across his eyes and he narrows them. First warning.
You pretend you don’t see it.
Closing your mouth and encasing your hand around his, you move the lollipop to the side of your cheek, acting as if it were his dick. And when you bob your head once, Jungkook tugs on the stick, wanting to pull it out, but you don’t let him, keeping it caged between your teeth. It only drives you to bob your head again.
“Stop,” he says, voice calm, deep and serious—terribly deadly. Withdraws his hand and leans back, watching you with a predatory gaze, one that makes you even wetter. “Or we’re going home.”
That’s exactly what you want. Instructions clear.
You open your mouth and do a show of swirling your tongue around the ball, only this time you flick the muscle against it. Jungkook grips the table, knuckles white, and you laugh, which you soon realize was a grave mistake.
“You think it’s funny?” he questions you, staring you down with a look that should frighten you, but it merely turns you on. You suck on the lollipop, the dulciness of strawberries suffusing your senses. “I’ll bend you over this fucking table, lift up that slutty little skirt and spank you in front of everyone.”
You pull out the candy with an exaggerated pop. Scowl at him. As though his words didn’t affect you the way that they did—as though you’re not squeezing your thighs together, trying to gain that friction you so desperately need. “Why are you so angry?”
He looks away for a moment, laughing silently. Nods his head at your wine glass. “You finished with your wine, baby?”
It’s this pleasantness that you hear in this voice that spreads goosebumps across your skin. Feigned sugariness—the sunlight right before the clouds come in and thunder strikes; the calm before the storm.
Good thing you’re dressed for the rain and ready to sing in it.
You nod your head and Jungkook clicks his tongue, grabs you by your hand whilst he pulls out his wallet. You accompany him as he walks over to the bar, black card ready between his fingers. Waits to be noticed. Gives you a look over and fixes your skirt, pulling the hem down.
Pays for you. Smiles down at you as he pockets his wallet.
And then, he drags you to his car.
Perhaps it’s the fresh air, perhaps it’s the briskness in his walk and the tight hold around your hand, but all intoxication evaporates from your body, leaving only your stained elation and neediness. You can’t help your smile. Think it must be sewn in at this point. By his own diligent fingers.
A wind blows in, pulling your hair to your front and Jungkook pins you against his car. Tits squished against the passenger side, elbows pressed together. Eyes wide, you check your surroundings and find no one in sight. Only swaying trees, buildings of apartments, lamps illuminating the dark street. You relax right away, trusting Jungkook that he’s on the lookout and knows what he’s doing.
He grinds his hips against your backside and you moan at the feeling of his hard length. With his free hand, he brushes your hair to one side and begins to pepper kisses along the curve of your neck, nuzzling his face in. Hovers his lips above your ear when he says, “You feel how hard you made me with your little show?” You nod, quickly, wanting more of him, wanting him inside of you. Push your hips back; twirl them in slow circles. Jungkook hisses. “I guess you really do want that spanking. Where’s your lollipop?” You show him your hand, where your treat remains uneaten and dry. He takes it from you and you turn your head in time to see him sink it into his mouth, placing it on the side of his mouth like you did. “Get inside the car.”
Jungkook opens the door for you and forces you in, closing it with a harsh thud. As he rounds the vehicle, he makes eye contact with you and your tummy flips in response.
Fuck.
Nothing happens in a millisecond once he’s seated, but then he grabs your cheeks, squishing them in the way he likes, and kisses you hard, lollipop in hand. Moving his mouth against yours, his tongue only briefly greets you before he pulls away. “Naughty fucking girl. You’re lucky that I love you because otherwise…” He doesn’t finish his sentence with words, but with another kiss, breathing against you, grunting when it’s you this time that slips the tongue inside, playing with him the same way you played with the dessert he got you. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me. I’m gonna put you in your fucking place, make you remember how to behave in public. You’ve forgotten, haven't you?”
You don’t have time to react, you merely bite your lip so hard that it aches. Jungkook pushes you back and yanks your leg between his, lifting your skirt. Then, he hovers his palm above your ass, the other forearm resting on the top of the seat, lollipop dangling near your head. He hides his smirk behind his effort to flatten his lips.
And when he spanks you, you don’t roll your eyes back and rasp like your body naturally wants you to. No, you hold the eye contact and you take the pain, letting it course through your body, reveling in it. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps going, alternating between slapping your now reddened cheeks and the back of your thigh. Doesn’t even stroke the skin to alleviate the burn. He solely bores his gaze into yours, his cock rock hard against your leg. Another set of words are exchanged, silently, deeply, teaching you your lesson in tandem with the hits, burying it to a great depth inside you.
And then he finishes with a nasty kiss, but his hand resumes causing you pain. You’ve lost count of how many spanks you’ve taken.
It’s like you’ve woken up from a trance. It reverberates throughout your entire body and it’s now that you allow your body to vocally react. You whine, rounding your mouth in a pout, so different from the one on the dinner date. And you remember your manners—perceive how wrong it was to tease him, even though a good half of you still takes delight in it.
“It hurts,” you whisper, nudging your lips against him and he gives you your last spank—the hardest of them all. The infliction makes you flutter your eyes shut and Jungkook brings them back to him by caressing his knuckles down your flushed cheek.
“Good, you remember how to behave now?” he asks, halting his movement, such piercing intensity in his irises that drive you to nod your head. “That’s my good little girl.” Taps the side of your thigh. “Let Daddy make it better now.”
You open your legs for him and Jungkook pushes your soaked panties to the side, revealing your little bedewed seashell. He hums at the sight of her, pops the lollipop back inside his mouth. Collects your arousal by swirling the pads of his middle and ring finger around your hole, eyes flicking from your pussy to your own, groaning when he comes into contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles. You whimper, bucking your hips, needing him to go faster, needing to come.
Jungkook shakes his head, disapproving. “You take what I give you or I’ll stop.” Lifts his hand to express the gravity of his threat and you help, wrapping both hands around his and putting it back on your bundle of nerves. He chuckles at your desperation, giving you the same circles, though now firmer.
Waves the lollipop near your lips. You open your mouth, instinctively, and he plunges it into your mouth for a mere second before he pulls away, growling at the sound that comes out. He does it again, fucking you with it in a way, just to hear that pop and he’s so pleased with it that he sinks those two fingers inside your heat, fully, in one ego. Keeps them there. Teases you. Hovers the lollipop out of your reach and you decide to fuck with him back. Darting out your tongue, you whirl it around the flat side and he swears, moaning, giving to you at last.
He latches his mouth onto your neck, starting the drill of his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”
He picks up the speed so rapidly that you scream, squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure permeating your body so vastly that you quiver all over. Grab a hold of his hair, pulling on it and then—
Then, he withdraws his fingers. Ruins your orgasm.
You pant, trying to catch your breath. “Please, Jungkook, please—”
He nudges his nose against yours. “What, baby?”
“I need to come, please.”
Jungkook tuts, kissing you once. “I thought we could play.” Plunges the lollipop into your mouth to wet it. Shows it to you, just to see you go cross-eyed again. Moans. “Where do you want it, hm?”
Ever the angel that makes your fantasies come to life. You wrap your fingers around his hand, butterflies swarming in your tummy. Lead him towards your still clothed breasts. “Here.” Take him to your drooling pussy. “And here.”
Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Descends his fingers a little lower, to your other hole, circles it. “What about here?”
You giggle, but you shake your head. The idea may be intoxicating, however reality is much different. There’s a risk to putting any sweetened food inside, one you don’t want to deal with.
Jungkook smiles at you, pushes your seat back and slides it in the same direction. Crawls over you and you feel so feminine, so sexy underneath him. Nipples perked under your top, breasts full and spilling. You arch your back towards him and Jungkook drags his thumb from your bottom lip, to your chin, neck, the dip of your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your Tom and he tugs it down so harshly that you can’t contain your very own concoction of a gasp and moan.
Lollipop in mouth, one hand propped by your head, the other squeezes your breast hard, nearing it, fingers pinching your nipple. Makes the flesh as red as your ass. You can tell he likes the view by the way he coos, but then he wipes all your thoughts away, when he sucks hard on the candy and swirls it around your stiffened nub, gaze flicked to yours to watch your reaction.
The pleasure is so vivid, so dizzying—and for him, you let it paint your face in all its colors. Brows scrunched, bedroom eyes, mouth parted, puffing out desperate breaths. Jungkook sucks it again and smears his saliva around your other nipple, taking his time, slapping the ball once against it, making you hiss.
“It feels so good,” you murmur, sinking your fingers into the longer length on the back of his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. You kiss him with a verve that causes him to groan. You swallow that sound, satisfied.
He grins at you. “I bet.”
Dips his head and envelops that sugar-coated nub with his warm lips, sucking it hard. His groan spreads there, deepens there and you arch your back even more, pulling his head to your other nipple so he can do the same thing. Join your other hand to his hair and do whatever you please—turn his head side to side, from one nub to the other—and he lets you, giving you, momentarily, his control. You feel your essence soaking the seat beneath you and you thank the heavens that the fabric is one of leather. You lift his head and try to push it down, but he won’t budge. Stares you down instead, lustfully.
“Where do you want me?” he asks, a wrinkle between brows. “Be a good girl and tell me.” Pops the lollipop back in his mouth.
You sigh, kissing him once on the side of his neck, using your tongue. Make sure you’re looking at him as you reply, “On my clit.”
He moans, eyes woozy, finger on the stick as he sucks the candy, clefts of dimples on either side of his cheeks. You palm his length, your own digits rounding across his tight balls and he whisks his irises back, grinding into your hand. “You want a lickie?”
“Yes, so bad, please.”
He hums and kneels before you, kissing your clit once in greeting. Then, he flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe across your whole femininity—from your slit, to your swollenness. Hands on your hips, index curled around the lollipop, he holds you steady, prevents you from meeting him, as he stimulates you like this. Up and down, tongue rolling, eyes fixed on you, devouring you. And when he stops to suck your clit, he taps your mouth once with the ball of the lollipop. The act of sucking on something while you’re getting pleasured like this almost throws you over the edge, your body coated in a layer of sweat, but Jungkook withdraws in time. Presses the delight in the middle and rubs small circles, just to prepare you for the big thing. You become so whiny, so loud that his eyes grow in size, watching you in awe.
To reward you for such beauty, he rapidly strums it from side to side, causing you to nearly levitate, but he pins you down. Wetting it and placing it back down, grunting at the aftertaste of you mixed with the sweetness.
And he can’t resist. Can’t hold back. The wrinkle between his brows deepens when he tastes you, licking you all over, tongue stopping occasionally its feast to flick at your clit before he swallows you whole. Grunts, sucks, licks. Eyes closed to savor the taste. The pressure in your core heightens, even more so when he lifts your legs, greedy for the side dish in the form of your other hole. You’re so close that you might burst.
“You taste so fucking good, baby. So sweet. Come on my tongue, please, I want more of you.”
He wants more of your taste.
You come so hard that your orgasm takes you to an open sea, your body floating on calm waves, to and fro, eyes rolled to the sky—to the sunroof—seeing nothing but the elegance of the twinkling stars and deep purple clouds.
“That’s it, baby, so good. That’s my little girl.” He slaps the side of your thigh, bringing you back to him. “Listening so well, learning her lesson, coming so hard. I’m proud.”
His words alone could make you come again, but you’re distracted.
Jungkook unbuttons his pants and pulls out his manhood. Stroking himself, he lines his tip at your mouth. He doesn’t even have to tell you to open up—you do it yourself. Holding it at the base, he stuffs your throat right away, a guttural chuckle emitting out of his mouth when you gag. He pulls out to where you’re comfortable having him and you begin to bob your head, like you did with the lollipop.
“Yes, suck it like that, my love. Daddy loves it when you do that.”
His precum on your tongue, the way he’s holding himself, the position and his words—you moan around him, so out of your mind, so fucked out. And when he fucks your mouth, it turns you on so much that you go cross-eyed.
Jungkook pulls out quickly, as if the sight of it alone was about to make him come. A string of your saliva from his tip drips onto your chest and he slides into your mouth again just to poke your cheek, just to mimic what you did with the lollipop. You whine, liking it so much, to the point that he drills this tender place of yours until he can’t take it enough.
“Turn around.” You try to, but your legs are jelly. He manhandles you to the position he wants—on your knees, tits against the leather, arms around the headrest, the formerly abused cheek against it. “Hold onto it. Too bad we left bunny at home, huh?”
Jungkook runs his cock across your pussy and you grind against it, needing the friction after the way he used you. You whimper for him. “She’s probably wondering where we are right now and why we’re taking so long.”
“I’ll make it up to her.” He presses his length against your clit, encouraging you to use him back. “Rub your pussy like that on me, fuck.” He moves so it’s his tip that stimulates you. You ride him harder, moaning loudly against the leather. “You can make it up to her, too. Can ride her like I know you can. With a vibrator between your legs and hers, hm? How you like the sound of that?”
You’re so close you could come in a second, but you don’t want it like this. You need him inside of you. “Shut up, I’m literally gonna come like this. Fuck me.”
He fists your hair. Pain shoots up your scalp and he ruts into your heat. Fully. Until his pelvis collides with your ass. You scream.
Lips by your ear. “Is this how you talk to your Daddy?” He begins to pump into your little tight hole. Mercilessly. The leather squeaks, a horrible, rapid sound that you can only faintly hear because all that your senses can focus on is his cock. “Your Daddy that loves you so much?”
You come, pathetically. Sea and waves, palm trees that sway. Your legs tremble, but he keeps going, mouthing the shape of your ear.
He tsks. “I’m gonna tell bunny on you. Maybe I’ll be the one who gets to fuck her while you watch.” He gives you a hard stroke, one that is followed by rapid thrusts that scramble your brain. “She’ll be so disappointed to hear how bad you’ve been, but I’ll make sure to tell her how hard I fucked it out of you.”
Lifting you from the leather, he kneads your breasts, placing the lollipop in between and holding it up by squishing them.
“Come on, get your lollipop.” He bounces your tits in his hands, signalizing you that he wants you to do it with your mouth.
But you can’t do it. You come, majestically, your senses leaving you and wafting in the stuffed air of the car. Boneless, you sag in his arms.
Jungkook coos. “You come so well around me that I’ll be good to you. You’re just a cockslut, aren’t you, baby? You just can’t help it, hm?” He puts the lollipop inside your mouth, chasing his so-needed release.
It doesn’t take long for him to find the footsteps into that bliss that you left in your wake. He holds you like this, against him, tits spilling over his forearms as he jackhammers into you so hard that your whole body bounces, shakes and reacts to each grunt, to each whimper, to each kiss he presses onto your skin.
With the little of the brain you have left, you decide to talk him through it—because he fucks you so good.
“Come for me, Daddy, yes, please, fuck. Fill me up with your cum. I want it so bad, I want to feel you—” His cock twitches in you, but he continues, sloppily. “Yes, so good. That’s it. Come for your little girl, Jungkook.” A loud groan. A tight hold. A spurt of his cum inside your walls. You whimper and he fucks it deeper into you, giving you more of his liquid stars. “Jungkook, oh fuck, Jungkook, oh yes.”
And it’s that never-ending litany of his name that helps him chase his high to the fullest. He kisses your neck hard in gratitude for helping him come, marking you, marking this memory.
You stay like this for a little while. Sweaty, sticky, spent, breathing hard—lungs synced.
A warm announcement sneaks to your heart, one that screams it into the drowsy skies once Jungkook pulls out of you, turns you around and, stealing your candy, kisses you.
An announcement that you’re deeply and irrevocably in love with him.
“You sounded just like me.” He finishes your lollipop for you, chewing the small bulby head as he dresses you and his cum spills onto your panties.
Your smile is dopey, satisfied and you’re ready for sleep to take you, but Jungkook gets out of the car for a smoke. You think you need one, too, after what you’ve experienced together, and so you follow him out into the night on wobbly legs.
He leans against his car, a cigarette in his mouth, one hand cupping the fire as he flicks his lighter to life. You wait until he puffs out the smoke into the air before you fold into the side of his body, stealing his cigarette and inhaling it, giving it back to him.
Jungkook pats your head, rubbing your scalp, chin propped on it. “I didn’t mean what I said. You were perfect. I’m not telling shit to bunny, I promise.”
You smile, fondly. Didn’t take his words seriously, not at all, but you’re grateful for the reassurement regardless. It’s just role-play, nothing else.
“I know, baby,” you say, softly, massaging his stomach, going as far as under his shirt to feel his bare skin—ever so innocently.
“I wanted to fuck you the moment you sat down. You’re just my little helper and because of that I’m glad we’re going home with my cum in your panties,” he whispers, placing the cigarette on your lips, so you can take a drag. “You deserve every drop.”
You feel that familiar ache rooting in your core again, but you don’t think you can take another round. Jungkook lifts your chin, making you look at him. Twinkles, bigger than the ones of the stars up above, living in his soft eyes. That cute nose. Those pouty lips. His silky, dreamy heart that looks out for you and puts you first.
The three words that you’ve never told him before rise up your body and you think now is the perfect occasion to say them.
“I love you.”
Wetness coats his eyes and the twinkles broaden, saturating them with an unfathomable, fulging light. He flicks his cigarette away, presses you closer to him and with his now free hand, he cups your face. Kisses you. For a long, long time.
“I love you.”
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hotter than hell | final. (m)
banner by the lovely solaris @jamaisjoons <3
➵ summary: jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.
↳ part of the namkook moonrise masquerade collab hosted by @jamaisjoons
➵ pairing: fallen lucifer!jungkook x human!reader
➵ genre: supernatural/fantasy!au, romance, e2l, road trip, angst, fluff, eventual smut
➵ rating: 18+
➵ word count: 19k
➵ warnings: swearing, semi-accurate biblical depictions of angels and demons, fantasy-based story-telling, mentions of fear, violence & injury, mentions of blood, aNGST, tragedy that leads to depression :(, light mentions of taking one’s own life (very very minor, please read with caution if this is triggering), morning after shenanigans, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, pussy-eating, heavy making out, petting, unprotected sex (wrap before tapping pls <3), massive dicc!jungkook, switch!reader, marking, scratching, cum play/tasting, rough sex, shower sex, multiple orgasms, missionary, hitting it from the back <3
➵ a/n: NAURRR it’s the final now :( I really hope you guys like this ending and please excuse me if it’s not my best, for those who don’t know I wrote this while recovering from heart surgery :] please excuse any mistakes i don’t have a beta for this!! i hope you enjoy my lovelies 🥺💓 feedback is always appreciated <3
| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | final. |
A light breeze dances across your cheek, causing goosebumps to freckle your skin. Your chest squishes into the mattress beneath you, splaying a hand across Jungkook’s brawny chest for warmth.
Except, Jungkook isn’t next to you.
Your eyes flutter open, squinting as the morning light blindingly permeates the opulent bedroom. You clutch the sheets on Jungkook’s side with confusion, finding the imprint of his sleeping body, but vacant of him.
Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach.
“Jungkook?” You immediately rise, anxiously surveying your surroundings for your king of hell. “Jungkook?” You call urgently, heart accelerating with each second he doesn’t reply.
Nerves begin eating at you, your fretful mind jumping to horrendous conclusions that tear your heart out of your chest. You sit up and hug the sheets to your quivering, naked body, as though you’re protecting yourself from the worst.
“Jungkook? If you’re playing a joke this isn’t funny.” Moisture floods your eyes, stressing your concern. Last night’s conversation only dawned terrifying thoughts, forcing yourself to avoid the worst possibility right now.
He can’t be gone already, he couldn’t have had such little time—he wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.
Your breathing destabilizes, tone shaky when you cry out. “Jungkook?! Please, where are you!”
“Woah, woah, angel.” You hear his concerned, silky voice when he emerges from the bathroom, shirtless and wet. Every muscle in your stiff body relaxes, seconds from crumbling into pieces.
“Hey, Y/N.” Jungkook coos, settling by your side and resting a palm against your cheek. “I’m here, hey. It’s okay.”
“Jungkook… I thought—” You choke up, almost embarrassed you’re on the verge of crying. You hide your face to conceal the tears, but Jungkook unfairly knows you too well.
“I’m right here, angel. Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” He kindly purrs, seating himself on the edge of the bed and tugging you into his warm chest. You bury into his neck, immediately throwing your arms around him—Jungkook squeezes you tightly, stroking your hair. “Wow, you really can’t last 10 minutes without me, can you?”
His tone is playful, encouraging you to lighten up. You force a smile upon your lips, drawing away to find his beautiful chocolate orbs. Jungkook cradles your face, holding you dearly. “Are you okay?”
You nod, inhaling a deep breath to calm yourself. “I’m sorry, I just jumped to the worst conclusion and thought you—”
“Hey, you don’t have to say sorry.” He assures you. “You know I’d never leave without saying goodbye.”
Your heart spasms inside your chest, feeling a sting upon hearing the word “goodbye”. It felt so damningly final. “I never want to say goodbye…” You trail, eyes solemnly focusing on the white sheets wrapped around you.
Jungkook exhales worriedly, despising the misery on your face. The words weigh heavy on him, too, instead curling your hair behind your ear. “Did you sleep well?”
You recall the memory of sleeping in Jungkook’s embrace, admiring the cozy heat of his body, the calming sensation of his skin pressed against yours—a small smile curves your lips. “Yeah, I did.”
Jungkook’s face brightens, biting his bottom lip. “So, did you really miss me? I was only showering, baby.”
It’s then you register a white, cotton towel hugging Jungkook’s scrumptious hips, droplets of water hanging from the ends of his wet, shaggy locks—he looked irresistibly sexy. You clear your throat and swiftly wipe at your eyes to appear unaffected. “Sh-shut up, I would never miss you.”
“Mmm, I beg to differ.” Jungkook hums, cupping your chin to lift your face. “What did you dream about, angel? Did you dream about last night?”
Flashes of the steamy session light hot fireworks inside you, your pussy inadvertently clenching. You nibble on your lip, squishing your thighs together to prevent yourself from gushing, avoiding his eyes. “I dreamt of you being less annoying, actually.”
Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek with a smirk, bringing his lips mere inches from yours—his spearmint breath deliciously kisses you. “You’re really cute when you deflect your feelings for me, did you know that?”
Grumpy about his accuracy, you pout, shoving him away. “Whatever; bet you thought of me and my naked body with you in the shower the entire time, loser.”
Jungkook cracks a mirthy, amused smile as he flicks a boobs of yours. “Oh, I definitely thought of that.” You giggle, but the scheming demon walks his hands across the sheets either side of your body, his gaze alluring. You nervously swallow as his lips dangerously skim your ear, whispering. “I also thought about fucking you senseless against the shower wall.”
You shiver, feeling a current run through your spasming sex—you tightly seal your lips to surpress a moan, whispering. “Why didn’t you?”
Jungkook laughs while drawing back. His veiny, beautiful hand lands atop your hair, smoothing it. “I didn’t want to wake you; you’re like a baby angel when you sleep.”
“Stop being cute.” You roll your eyes, curling your hands over his sturdy shoulders to push him back—it was so tempting to snatch any opportunity to touch his deliciously-carved muscles.
Jungkook falters back, a fond smile on his lips. You lean back and perch yourself on your elbows, letting the sheets fall from your boobs.
You eye his body like a work of art, admiring each and every divot, every harsh line and impeccably crafted edge. The slabs of muscles hugging him are mouth-watering, unable to tear your greedy eyes away—especially not from the perfect v-line running along his abdomen that disappears behind his pesky towel.
It’s impossible to not recall the same godly body moving on top of you, working himself hard to thrust inside you, glistening with sweat as he grunted and groaned, moaned and panted. Your skin automatically heats up, chewing your bottom lip again.
Jungkook tongues his lip ring as he crosses his brawny arms—you feel sick watching the tattooed one flex. “So someone definitely didn’t forget last night.”
“Hard to forget when you get fucked by the devil.” You add a saccharine sweet smile to your words, eyes giving away your lustful thoughts.
Jungkook cracks a smug side-grin. “Mmm, and how’d you like the devil fucking you? Was it mind-blowing? Earth-shattering? Life-changing?” He dramatically emphasizes with jazz hands.
“Hmm,” you fake contemplate, drawing out your foot to skim across Jungkook’s knee just underneath his towel. You slowly graze your toes up his thigh, salaciously eyeing him. “More like eh, really.”
Jungkook cocks a brow. “Eh? You’ve gotta be kidding me, right?”
“Not really—I’ve had better.”
Jungkook’s features immediately scrunch with resentment. “Hah, I know for a fact you’re lying because I already know your sex stories. Nice try, angel.”
“Really?” You quirk a brow, his already apparent irritation amusing you, drawing higher up his quads. “Do you really think I’d tell you all my sex stories? What if I hid or lied about something?”
Jungkook narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“I’ve been hanging out with the devil, Jungkook; I’ve become a sinner.” Your sultry timbre causes Jungkook to swallow, and your eyes gleam. You caress his muscular thigh high enough that you press the ball of your foot against his monster cock, and Jungkook growls like a beast.
He pounces on you, giggling when he ensnares your wrists and pins you down to the mattress. “Take back what you said, or I’m giving you a sinful punishment, angel.”
You smirk. “Awh, but I don’t think big scary Lucifer would ever punish me, would he? Aren’t I too precious to you?”
“There are many ways to punish someone, and I’ve been thinking of specific ways for you.” He retorts, his eyes shimmering a cavernous red.
“Really? Like wha–” You nonchalantly wave him off, but your question is abruptly cut off when Jungkook glides his hands down your sides, hooks around your thighs, and lowers himself to your core—he tugs you flush against his face, diving head first into your pussy.
The cry you let out is erotic—loud—joints liquiefying to the feeling of his strong, wet muscle licking a long stripe through your slit.
“Jungkook, what the–fuck!” You moan out instead of reprimanding him, attempting to resist his tongue if it weren't so goddamn addicting.
“Jungkook…” Your call is more of a sigh, moaning with pleasure when his tongue masterfully licks across your cunt, spreading your legs wide open.
Your fingers weave into his messy, wet curls, gently tugging them when he supplies you your very own heaven. He licks and sucks about as he pleases, even teething your clit and erupting a high-pitched whine from you.
He moans when your taste hits his tongue, snaking his hand up your quivering body to cup one of your breasts. He squeezes with delight, deftly rubbing tight circles over your nipple with his thumb—fireworks explode behind your eyes.
Your hips buck into his gorgeous face, feeling his plushy lips lick your soul out of you. Lucifer’s tongue was surely the definition of sin, you thought, as Jungkook’s long and crafty muscle applied sweet pressure to your clit. He slithered the tip through your folds, jerking your back off the sheets, thighs closing around his head.
“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking wet.” He praises, pushing your thigh back to plunge deeper, to lick the cum he oozes out of you. “The dirtiest angel ever.”
He’s driving you insane with his licks, with his hand on your tit, with his intoxicating stimulation that makes you see stars. Your cunt begins pulsing for more, for him to drive himself inside you until you’re full of his cum.
Impatiently, you tug at his shoulders, forcing him to release your sex and crash his lips onto yours. You swing your arms and legs around his strong body to greedily kiss him, tasting your flavour on him. Jungkook groans once you do, a hand of his slipping underneath your head as the other grips your side, melding his hips with yours.
The contact makes you shiver, harbouring no patience for foreplay.
You shove him back, eyeing him with insatiable lust. Your hands quickly target his towel and toss the damn thing aside, Jungkook reading the room and removing the sheets from your body.
He collides with your lips again for another messy kiss before grabbing his shaft, gently pumping his cock. It’d already grown hard as he ate you out, and now stands tall and proud as he’s seconds from splitting you open. His face buries into your neck when he clambers over you, entwining a hand with yours in the sheets as he simultaneously sinks into your spasming hole.
Jungkook softly groans as he pushes into you, kissing your throat. “Are you okay… after last night?”
You nod with a harsh breath, fingers gripping his wet hair for support. He grunts deeply once he’s entirely sheathed inside, curling an arm underneath your back to press you into him. He wastes no time in thrusting, your hands instantly gripping his back and shoulder, shuddering pleasurably as you adjust to the size of him.
“Still so big, Jungkook… holy fuck.”
“You drive me fucking insane,” he breathes, kissing your collarbone. “I can’t help it.”
Your breathy moans and groans resound around the room as Jungkook drives into your sex, already rocking the bed with a sensual rythym. You scratch your nails into his meaty muscles, mouths and breaths melding harmoniously as he sensually drives himself inside you—the action sends Jungkook off the deep end.
“Fuck, I love when you do that.” He growls, gripping you harder. “Go harder, as hard as you can.”
You worry for him, flashing him a concerned look until he kisses it away. “I’m Lucifer, baby, it won’t hurt—just let me feel what I make you feel.”
Heeding his request, you beg him. “More, Jungkook… fuck me faster.”
Jungkook complies with a heady groan. He begins slamming into your fluttering pussy, eliciting needy sighs and moans from you. You harshly scratch your nails down his back, leaving red trails that must have drawn blood, but Jungkook only thrives off it.
Throaty, guttural groans leave him as pure sin leaks into his movements, passionately speeding up. “Fuck, ah fuck…” He clutches you as closely as possible, roughly fucking you at high speed, relishing in the feeling of it until this position isn’t enough for him. Jungkook quickly draws out of your sex to flip you around, your breasts and stomach now pressed into the mattress.
“Jungkook—” You’re interrupted when the devil tugs you onto all fours, your battered pussy kissing his rock-hard dick. You yelp, surprised by his harsh movements until he sheaths himself back inside you, feeling every bone in your body melt with pleasure.
Your face buries into your pillow, sighing into it, gripping it with all the strength you can muster. Jungkook begins sliding in and out of you, no doubt easier with the amount of essence you deliciously leak.
He fucks you hard and fast, gripping your hips as he plunges into you from behind. You cry out into your pillow, muffling the erotic cadence of your desire. It feels cosmically good like this, wantonly reaching your arms out to grab the bed frame.
“Fuck, Jungkook… fuck!”
“You like being fucked like this, angel? Like the dirty angel you are?”
You pathetically whimper, tightly clasping the bed frame. “S’ good, Jungkook. More… I need more.”
“Where do you need me, angel?” Jungkook coos, stroking your back affectionately—a complete contrast to his jackhammering hips. His voice is hypnotizing, alluring as he speaks. “Show me with my hand, baby, show the devil where you need him.”
His words saturate your ears with liquid lust, your veins humming with pure rapacity. You reach out for his hand, Jungkook finding you in the middle. You relocate his fingers to your stomach, skimming them down until his digits press into your throbbing clit—Jungkook’s smirk is so wide you can hear it.
“Mmm, my angel wants to come.” He hums, lowering himself so that his chest is flush against your back, his lips caressing your ear. “Hold on tight, Y/N, I’m giving you an orgasm so sinful, even hell won’t let you repent.”
That’s the only warning you earn before Jungkook buckles down, curls an arm around your figure, and fucks you so hard you swear stars dance underneath your eyelids. The bed ceaselessly creaks, possibly on the verge of breaking as Jungkook hammers himself home inside you.
His crafty tongue comes out to lick along your spine, your shoulder, your marked neck until your ear. He sucks on your lobe, whispering the rawest forms of filth. Paired with his fingers drawing tantalizing circles over your clit, it wasn’t long before Jungkook snaps the tight knot in your gut.
“Jungkook, fuck!”
“There it is; cum for me, angel.” He ruggedly breathes. “Let me feel it, baby.”
Just gently wraps his hand around your throat, choking the sides as he fucks you harder, faster, elevating your pleasure to mountainous levels until you finally reach Nirvana.
With a cosmic thrust, your orgasm explodes inside you, chest inflating and deflating with heavy breaths. Jungkook momentarily slows down, his breath fanning your hair across your face. He’s throbbing violently inside you, loaded with cum he needs to release, and his lips move before yours can.
“Can I come… on your body?” He asks, breathily and with sweat glistening on his skin. “Your back… I’ve thought about coming on your back for weeks.”
You shoot him a mischievous smile over your shoulder, still hazed over with post-orgasm bliss. “Want to paint me… like one of your french girls?”
He smirks, far too attracted to your witty mouth. “I’d love to paint you and have you lick my cum off yourself.”
His dirty mind intrigues you, granting him his permission. Jungkook picks up his pace again, sinfully rocking his hips into you until euphoria enters his veins.
Jungkook’s pulls out of your sex in an instant to release his white hot seed all over your back, fascinated by the warm goops painting your skin.
He decorates your lower back and even your ass, pumping himself until he’s left dry. He drinks you in with the most carnal look you’ve ever sensed, his eyes glowing such an intense red, he truly appeared demonic. He leans back down to swipe his fingers across your spine, gathering some of his cum—he brings his fingers before your mouth.
Without hesitation, you lick it off, humming with satisfaction once the taste hits your tongue—who knew Lucifer’s cum could taste like stardust?
Jungkook watches you enjoy it, watches your lips suck his digits as though they were his cock. He lightly groans before swiping up the rest of his seed to feed to you—he’s so sinfully filthy.
Once you’d swallowed the majority of him, Jungkook pressed a kiss to your hair before he forced space between you, admiring his work on your back. You fall flat against your stomach, finding his eyes over your shoulder.
“Shit, now I’m covered in cum—I’ll need to shower.”
“Mmm,” Jungkook hums, tonguing his cheek. “Can I join you?”
“You already showered, genius.” You playfully narrowed your eyes, swinging your legs.
Jungkook laughs before crawling back over you, pressing sensual kisses to your neck. “Please, I’m covered in sweat from fucking you. I’ll need to shower again, and joining you would save water and all...”
“Ah, yes, because the devil is so interested in saving the Earth, right?” You jest, moaning when he licks your earlobe. “Totally has nothing to do with fucking me in there, now does it?”
“Of course not, what if my angel needs help showering?” He sarcastically plays along, his lips now worshipping you underneath your jaw. “She must be sore from last night and this morning.”
You can’t help but sigh when he finds the sweet spot behind your ear, kissing it affectionately. You giggle when his hands slip around your sides, attempting to tickle you. “Fine, but we’ll only shower, correct?”
Jungkook stifles his snort. “Oh yeah, of course. We’re just going to shower.”
“Yes, you’re certainly not going to fuck me against the wall like you said you would, right?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
Once Jungkook hoisted you over his shoulder and scrambled inside the bathroom, it wasn’t long before your back was pressed against the shower wall, and you held onto him for dear life as he fucked you senseless, your two wet bodies rutting against the other with no desire to stop.
After two more rounds of fucking in the shower and coming another three times, Jungkook still didn’t leave you even when you began your skincare routine. You laughed and playfully tried to nudge him off as he clung to your waist from behind, burying his face into your neck.
“No, I’m never leaving you alone—you know I love your hair after you wash it.”
You rolled your eyes, applying moisturizer to your face. “Ugh, who knew Lucifer could be such a mushy lover?”
“Only for his soulmate, angel.” You giggled when his fingers danced over your sides, tickling you.
You’d finally finished and spun around to kiss him, unable to tear yourself away from his delicious frame. His black dress-shirt from last night hugged your figure as he only sported a black Supreme t-shirt and matching boxers on his hips.
You leaped into his arms as he grappled your legs around his waist. He led you back into your room, laying you across the sheets to shamelessly make out with you.
“You know,” you begin, indulgently sighing out when he sucks his love for you onto your neck. “I think we’re kind of… obsessed with each other.”
He smirks against your skin, his hot breath fanning across you. “That’s what happens when you’re primordial soulmates—I’ve been starving for you for an eternity, and didn’t even know it.”
You brightly laugh as he pretends to eat at your neck, playfully mimicking the sounds of a hungry animal chomping you. Your panty-cladded core presses into his clothed crotch as you lock your legs around him, lazily rolling yourself against his abs—until something hits you.
The word he just uttered; eternity.
It suddenly snaps you back into reality, your mind weaving together what time Jungkook actually has left. Is it possible for him to never use his powers and still remain here? Is it possible for him to delay whatever will happen to him? If he never condemns your soul, he can remain here, can’t he?
You gently clasp Jungkook’s shoulders and force space between you two, meeting his eyes with soft, curious ones.
Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
You sit on the question, letting go of his shoulders to twiddle your fingers. “I… I don’t know if I should ask.”
Jungkook visibly softens, rubbing his thumb across your lips. “You know you can ask me anything, angel.”
His supportive, kind tone melts your heart, scrounging up the courage to speak. “You need to tell me more, Jungkook, about what you found out last night.” You press, nervously approaching the matter. “Can’t you just not condemn my soul? Can’t you just conserve your power and not use it to remain here? With me?”
Jungkook exhales weightily, supporting himself above you with a look of regret. “I can’t do that, angel. The terms can’t just be ignored like that.”
“Why not?” You smooth your hands over his muscular chest, silently admiring the beat of his heart—that he’s still here. “Why can’t you stay, Jungkook?”
He releases a deep, grievous sigh, gripping the sheets with a sense of frustration. It’s as though something dances on the tip of his tongue, but he refuses to share, shielding you from the pain of it. Your heart sinks, sliding a hand into his hair as the other holds his neck—you lift yourself to gently nudge his nose with yours. “Tell me, Jungkook, you can talk to me.”
Jungkook disconcertedly meets your eyes, swallowing harshly—he begins very quietly, vulnerably. “If I don’t… if I don’t condemn your soul…” He strains to continue. You support him as much as you can, affectionately kissing him, caressing him.
He exhales calmly with your unfettered love, gathering enough strength to continue. “If I don’t condemn your soul, Y/N, the Council will seize us and force me to do it, anyway.”
Your eyes widen, stuttering. “They’ll—they’ll what?”
Jungkook winces, clutching your sides. “They’ll force me to condemn you, angel. And it won’t be a simple arrest, either, they’ll detain us and even hold a hearing if they desire. They could potentially…”
Again, Jungkook tenses, and your eyes fill with moisture, cradling his cheeks. “What is it?”
“They could potentially torture me, torture you if I don’t condemn you—it’s how they do things, they won’t let this go.”
Your heart cracks, bleeding the pain into your chest. “No way, it can’t be like that.” You begin to implode, tears collecting in your eyes. “How could they do that? I thought they were angels, I thought they were good.”
“Y/N, you’re forgetting who we are.” Jungkook softly explains, brushing some strands from your face. “I’m the devil, and you’re my lover, baby—they’ll never allow anything good to happen to us.”
Your heart constricts, lips trembling as a wave of emotion attacks, ensnaring your ability to think clearly. “Then we have to stop it, Jungkook. We can’t let them have you, we can’t let them have what they want. We’ll run—we’ll run forever and never let them catch you and—”
“Y/N, it doesn’t work like that.” Jungkook coos, concern flooding him upon your panicking features. “Angels are supreme celestial beings, not human detectives. They don’t have to search for our whereabouts or investigate, they already know where we are—they know I’m not following through with their orders.”
The thought of such omnipotent power overwhelms you, clutching your quivering hands to your mouth. The fear that cripples you is consuming, causing you to rise into a seated position to reel, to become terrified of what’s to come.
Jungkook visibly shares your pain, his features devastated as he kneels before you on the ground and cradles your hands in your lap. Tears cascade down your cheeks, sucking in a miserable breath. “This can’t be… it can’t be like this.” Your voice breaks, your head spins—Jungkook cups your cheeks, wiping the tears that escape you.
“It has to be, Y/N, we have no say in the matter.” He agonizes, his smooth and silky voice cushioning the blow. “So we only have one option to end this for good.”
You lift your eyes apprehensively. “What?”
Jungkook doesn’t answer, as though he’s fighting to accept it himself. His gaze is miserable—excruciating—causing your nerves to skyrocket. “What is it, Jungkook?”
Silence again, his jaw tightly flexed with anger, his irises glowing with a damning sense of tenacity.
“For fuck’s sake, Jungkook, spit it out!”
“Our only option…” he struggles. “Our only option is for me to use the very last of my powers… and let myself die.”
A freight train hits you, no, completely totals you as you stare at Jungkook, unable to respond. Denial is your only method of functioning, shaking your head. “No, no. Don’t you dare say that to me, you can’t die, Jungkook.”
“What choice do we have, baby?” He sadly relinquishes himself to his fate, holding your jaw. “I can’t live knowing I have to condemn your soul—I can’t do that to you.”
“So what, Jungkook?” You fight him, pain etched into your every feature. “Who cares about me? I won’t let you die!”
“You don’t get it, Y/N. Condemining you means branding you as one of the wicked, it means subjecting you to the torture you’ll face for your indiscretions on Earth.” He explains seriously, vehement disapproval on his face. “I will never do that to you, I will never let you suffer to earn my freedom.”
“And it doesn’t matter, Jungkook.” You counter. “I’ll gladly endure whatever awaits me in hell if it means you get to live, if it means you’ll be able to reclaim your throne in hell—I’m the one who cast you out in the first place, it was my fault!”
“No, that’s not an option.” Jungkook finalizes, gripping your hands with meaning. “This is the only way, Y/N, the only way you get to live a normal life without all of this crap. You don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve you; so please, let me do this for you—let me save you.”
You can’t agree to this, vehemently shaking your head. “No, that’s not an option, you can’t do this for me.” You sniffle, connecting your sorrowful gazes. “You have to condemn me, Jungkook, it’s the only way.”
“For fuck’s sake, Y/N, not it isn’t.” Jungkook has to release your hands in order to rise from the floor, pacing the room. You watch as he does so, determined to change his mind.
“There’s another way, Jungkook, you just won’t stand to do it.”
His features contort, scoffing with narrowed eyes. “You’re right, Y/N, I will never send you there, I will never do that to you.”
“And why not, Jungkook?” You rise to your feet. “We can’t let the council reprimand us and there’s no way I’m letting you die, so you have to do this, you have to!”
“I won’t let the woman I love suffer in hell!” Jungkook explodes, his rageful eyes burning with emotion.
You shatter, clutching your chest where a hole was punched through it. “But then you’ll suffer, Jungkook, you’ll suffer for me, and I can’t live with that.”
Jungkook stares elsewhere with oblivion, scoffing before he swivels around, hands perched on hips. “Do you know what will happen if I condemn you, Y/N? Do you have any idea what’ll happen to your soul?”
You sniffle, shaking your head. “What?”
“You know you’re the reincarnation of Lilith, right?” Jungkook reminds you, to which you lightly nod. “Do you know what it means to be a reincarnation, Y/N? It means Lilith is reborn as you, a human. It means even after you’re gone, after your soul is condemned, this shit doesn’t end.” His eyes fill with moisture, watching him swallow it away so he can continue. “The punishment Lilith faced for disobeying Adam was to be repeatedly reincarnated as a human. But another part of her punishment was to face eternal loss. Lilith and I fell in love ages ago, but I lost her when she was forced to be reincarnated as the love of my life across human lifetimes. When I find you in each lifetime, I’m meant to be ripped apart from you—we’re never meant to be together.”
The information is far too grand for you to absorb, drowning in it. “Wh-what? Across… lifetimes? But how… how?”
“I don’t know, my memory of each lifetime is erased. But me still being alive clearly indicates that I never die. And I know I would never voluntarily choose to condemn you which only means the Council always forces me to, and you’re forced to suffer horrible, horrible pain until you’re reincarnated again.” He agonizes, spitting the words with distaste. “I cannot live knowing that, angel—I have to end your eternal suffering by dying.”
Jungkook’s finalizing tone scares you, afraid of what all this means, afraid of what it means for you, for him. How could your life have gone down this path? How can you possibly be the reincarnation of a demon? It’s too much to stomach, feeling bile rise up your esophagus.
“This can’t be true… it can’t.” You choke on your words, sniffling back tears. “I can’t let you do that, Jungkook. You don’t get to sacrifice your life for me, I can’t let you.”
Jungkook’s dark brows furrow. “I’m not asking for your permission, Y/N. I will end your suffering, I’m ending this for good.”
You can’t believe him right now, blindly choosing to follow his own agenda without thinking about you. You’d never be able to handle Jungkook sacrificing himself in your name—it’s too much. “No you fucking aren’t, Jungkook. Don’t make my decisions for me, you’re not sacrificing yourself for me and that’s final!”
“And you don’t get to make that decision for me, either. Who I sacrifice myself for is my choice, and I won’t let anything happen to you!” Jungkook shouts back, stepping closer to drive his point home.
“Why are you doing this? Why are you choosing this when we can work this out, when we have other options?”
“Options that include subjecting you to eternal suffering, Y/N? I won’t let that happen because I love you, can’t you understand that?” He searches your eyes to share his truth, to help you see what lies within him for you—your tears only grow.
“And it’s because you love me you’ll die, Jungkook, do you understand that?” You sharpen your tone, decreasing the space between you two. “You won’t just die, either, you will cease to exist, as in there’s nothing left for you after. You'll never come back, you’ll never be reincarnated or magically saved, you won’t exist anymore.”
Jungkook swallows painfully at that, needing to look away from you—your voice breaks as you continue, lightly pressing your fist into Jungkook’s chest. “That’s what it means for you to die, Jungkook. It means our story, whatever we have, ends forever, and I can’t…” You choke up, agony clogging your throat.
It catches Jungkook’s attention, who lifts his eyes with insurmountable misery.
“I can’t live like that, Jungkook. I can’t live without you… I can’t live in a universe where you’re not… where you’re not…” You can’t continue, you can’t say the words anymore; sobs wrack your entire figure as the reality of your doom drowns you, wraps its macabre hands around your throat and reminds you of your endless cycle of pain.
Your chest constricts, weeping into your hands, seconds from collapsing until you feel Jungkook’s arms embrace you, tightly hugging you into his chest, cradling the back of your head. You completely crumble, pieces of your heart stabbing your lungs, unable to breathe.
Jungkook squeezes you tighter, no doubt tears spilling from his eyes as he listens to your wails, listens to the pain in your voice. “I can’t live without you, Jungkook. You can’t leave… I just met you, you can’t say goodbye to me, you can’t…”
“I know, Y/N.” His voice shakes, exhaling brokenly to level his tone. “But I can’t let you suffer, I can’t live knowing my baby’s suffering because of me, because I couldn’t choose her over myself—I can’t be selfish with you.”
Your sobs grow louder, finally allowing the reality of this to sink in, to swallow your soul whole and leave you hollow. “You can’t leave me, Jungkook, you can’t leave. We’ve barely done anything together, there’s so much left for us, there’s still so much…”
“I know, Y/N, but you’ll be able to do it with someone else.” Jungkook gently explains, stroking your hair. “Someone human, someone who won’t make you cry like this, someone who won’t leave, someone you can have kids and grow old with.”
“No, I don’t want that, I don’t want any of that.” You deny him, blubbering like a child into his chest. “You’re all I want… you’re all I want, Jungkook.”
You feel him wince against your hair, never ceasing his affectionate strokes. “I love you, Y/N…” He whispers, voice quavering with pain, squeezing you as tightly as he can. “I love you, okay?”
You shake your head, refusing to say it back because it feels like the end, it feels like he’s building a wall between you two to soften the inevitable blow, to make you accept this horrible fate, and you refuse to.
You push him away. “Don’t say that, don’t say that, Jungkook!”
“Why not, Y/N?” Jungkook sounds weak, and it’s then you realize tears are flooding his eyes, too, piercing your heart with sorrow. “It’s the truth; I love you, and it’s because I love you that I’m doing this.”
“No, no!” You stride away from him, inhaling sharply as your head begins to pound, pain seeping into every joint in your body. He can’t do this to you, he can’t.
How can he say he loves you when he means to leave you? He’s lying to you again, yet again he’s breaking his promise, annihilating it, you thought. He doesn’t love you, he wouldn’t put you through losing him if he did.
“I‘m not lying, Y/N, it’s because I can’t be selfish with you that I’m doing this, because I do love you.”
You pause, bewilderment etching into your features upon hearing an… answer to your thoughts. Your lips move slowly, furrowing your brows. “Wait… I didn’t… say that aloud.”
Simultaneously, Jungkook’s eyes horrifyingly widen, swallowing as though he’d been caught.
“I… I thought that in my mind… I didn’t say that aloud.” You repeat, steadily turning to face Jungkook, who strictly stares in front of him, avoiding you.
“Jungkook… can you… can you hear my thoughts?” Sheer shock is your only emotion, watching him grow antsy. “Can you fucking read my mind?”
Jungkook opens his mouth, but closes it. He stammers repeatedly until he sharply sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with agitation. “I… it’s a Lucifer… thing. I can hear people’s thoughts to detect sins in them.”
Shock is an understatement; you’re gob-smacked, utterly flabbergasted. Jungkook can read your mind… your fucking mind… “Wait… how long have you been able to read my mind? To hear my thoughts?”
He swallows, flexing his jaw. He wets his lips before clearing his throat. “Since the moment I met you.”
“So you have been able to hear… every single thought I’ve had since I met you?”
He grimaces, conveniently drawing his eyes towards the bright, sunny skyline of Chicago. His silence angers you, sharpening your tone.
“Jungkook, answer me—have you been able to hear every single thought I’ve had since I met you? Including the ones I’ve had of you?”
Jungkook blinks, pressing a hand to his temple with a stressed sigh. “Yes; I’ve been able to hear every single thought you’ve had ever since I met you, including the ones about me.”
Your gut horridly twists, reeling. Jungkook has known? He could hear your feelings grow for him? Develop for him? He could see inside your head? You suddenly felt grotesquely violated, like he could’ve weaponized anything you’ve thought of against you, like he could’ve easily played into your desires and entertained whatever personal mind games for his own satisfaction.
Jungkook watches the realizations flash through your eyes. “Y/N, wait, I promise I didn’t purposefully do anything with whatever you thought. I can’t swim around in someone’s head, I can just hear thoughts, okay? And since my powers have been fading recently I can barely hear anything anymore, I promise.”
“You could see inside my fucking head, and all you can do is make excuses right now?”
“Y/N, no, wait. I promise—”
But it didn’t matter what Jungkook was going to promise, because you’re both suddenly interrupted by the sound of a blaring, high-pitched screech.
The sound batters your ears, the blood-curdling trumpetting in your head causing you to falter to the ground, Jungkook in tow. It seems to affect you more than it does him, however, because he’s not as phased by the ground that appears to shake, almost equivalent to an Earthquake. You feel his large, warm hands form to your writhing figure, comforting you.
“Y/N, hey, are you alright? Y/N!”
The sound is so loud you shout in agony, piercing your eardrums until it's followed by a bright, white light emerging into thin air in the main area of Jungkook’s suite. Your pairs of eyes follow the nearly blinding, unnatural beam, almost cracking open the universe itself.
Not long after, three figures dressed in impeccable white with angelic, empyrean features present themselves—your eyes widen at the sight. The sound becomes quieter, but you feel fluid seep down on the sides of your face. A touch from your fingers reveals blood, freezing with fear when the figures step out from the portal-like door. Jungkook beside you even seems to stop breathing, and his fearful eyes clue you into exactly what’s going on.
They’re here to take you.
“Brother,” the one on the right, Raphael speaks up, regretfully regarding his brother. “I told you there would be consequences.”
“Told you he wouldn’t listen, Raphael—always the overly moral guy.” Gabriel on the left chides his brother, leaving the most menacing looking one in the middle to be the one and only…
“Michael…” Jungkook whispers in shock, his petrified eyes unable to tear away.
“Lucifer, you haven’t followed through with your orders.” Michael’s deep, imposing voice flatley regards Jungkook, his stare intimidating enough to kill a man—literally. “You must come with us, refusing will only worsen your punishment.”
Jungkook’s body stiffens next to you, hardening with denial. “No, I’m not coming. I won’t let you condemn her and keep this horrendous cycle of her pain alive.”
Michael barely moves a feature on his face, stoically replying. “Then we’ll take you by force.”
In seconds, all you register is the malice in the three angels’ faces before they lunge towards you and Jungkook. You squeeze your eyes shut and cower into his chest, until you fail to feel anything—instead, you sense the heat of the sun itself before you.
Opening your eyes, you find Jungkook shielding you two with the same ring of fire he manifested in Las Vegas, his eyes glowering an orangey red, as though the flames of hell were in there.
“Don’t you dare touch her.” He demonically growls, emitting raw, unfettered rage. You watch as the three angels pause before Jungkook’s flames, reluctantly on the defensive. The use of his power immediately worries you, however, clutching his jaw with panic.
“Jungkook, don’t–ah!” Touching his skin literally scorches you, reeling as your blistered skin reveals a legitimate burn. The sound of your cry snags Jungkook’s attention, his fiery red eyes revealing worry.
“Y/N, angel, holy shit, I’m so sorry.” He deeply apologizes, straining to maintain his shield. “I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
His concern even at a time like this melts you, shaking your head. “It’s okay, Jungkook, I’m okay, but don’t use your power, you can’t go!”
“It’s the only way!” Jungkook shouts, increasing the size of his shield, the flames raging brilliantly as they ward off the angels. “It’s the only way I can save you, run, Y/N. Run as fast as you can and don’t look back!”
“No, you said you’d say goodbye, don’t do this!”
“I’m sorry, I have to, it’s the only way.” He insists, guilt radiating in his irises. “You need to leave before I scorch this entire place, go!”
“No, Jungkook!”
Your screech is so painfully loud, it causes the angels on the other side to come to a realization. Raphael urgently turns to the others. “He’s channeling enough power to kill himself. Michael, we have to stop him!”
“Kill himself? What do you mean, why would he do that?!” Gabriel yells over the ear-piercing whooshing of fire.
“To end her suffering.” Michael intuitively answers, his cold, distant eyes sliding in your direction. “He’s willing to kill himself to end the cycle of her punishment. What an impudent, cretinous brother we used to have.”
Jungkook strains himself as he forces out more power, watching the veins in his arms not only bulge, but reveal trails of scorching hot lava. It sears his skin, his eyes fiery red, the vessels around them lit with a bright orange as he remains determined to end this, to end everything.
“Y/N, run, please run!” He roars, the ferocity of his flames growing into a vicious inferno, terrifying you when he grunts in pain.
“Jungkook!”
“Michael, we must do something, now!” Raphael urges.
“Brother, we can’t let him kill himself, we can’t!” Gabriel piggy-backs.
Michael exhales a calm breath, even shutting his eyes to do so. Without even so much as a bat of his eye, Michael opens his palm, as though grasping something, and slowly closes it, straining to squeeze the life out of something.
It’s immediate the piercing you feel, as though your windpipe is being crushed by a pole of reinforced steel. You scratch at your neck, attempting to pry something off you but finding nothing restraining you, struggling for air.
The sounds of your violent choking caution Jungkook, snapping his fearful eyes in your direction. “Y/N!” He reaches out for you, desiring to help, but that single second Jungkook loses focus, Raphael and Gabriel counter him with their pure energy, snuffing out his ferocious flames.
Jungkook cries out in pain as he collapses, and faster than your human eyes can detect, you and him are both snatched by your angelic pursuers, vanishing into the white beam they’d come from.
“How could you do this to her? She’s human!”
“Just let her go, she has nothing to do with this.”
“I’ll face any punishment, I promise, just please, let her go!”
Your head pounds, groaning as the weight in your mind lifts. Your eyes fight to flutter open, pierced by the nearly blinding white colour of the outside world.
“I swear, I’ll break out of this cell and murder every single one of you if you touch her.”
Your conscious slowly resurfaces hearing such a familiar voice. Jungkook? Did he say cell? Why can you hear the violent clanging of metal against metal?
Your curiosity forces you awake, inhaling sharply as you come to. Lifting your head, it’s hard to adjust to the scene before you. A holding cell, chains and restraints around your wrists and ankles, the pure, luminous white covering everything around you.
Or perhaps, nothing is covered in white, but everything is white. You survey your surroundings, panicking once you find yourself isolated.
“Why the hell did you nearly choke her to death? I thought you were one of the good ones, Raphael, you liar!”
Swiveling to your left, you find that your cellmate is your one and only loud, obnoxiously cute hot-head. “Jungkook!”
His doe eyes snap in your direction, relief flooding his features. “Y/N!”
He crawls over to you, reinforced bars separating your cells. The smile that plasters across your face is radiant, excitedly shuffling towards him to be near him, to feel him. You reach out to clasp his hand through the bars, but the minute you do, it's as though your meninges are being torn apart, the world's most excruciating migraine plaguing you.
“Ah!”
“Y/N, Y/N, what’s happening?” Jungkook worriedly rambles, reaching through the bars to comfort you, only to be stopped by his chains. He curses, grinding his teeth harshly before his head whips in Raphael’s direction.
“What the fuck are you doing to her, huh? Hasn’t she suffered enough?!”
“I told you, Brother,” Raphael defends himself, lifting your head to catch a weary sight of him. “Hurting her in Chicago was not me, it was Michael.”
Jungkook scoffs, murderous eyes matching his tone. “You’re still the one who let it happen, asshole.”
“I warned you that not following through with your orders would lead to this, Lucifer.” Raphael stresses. “You neglected them. You knew this punishment was inevitable.”
“No, what I knew is that my brother would at least try to understand that you are hurting a human, an innocent human!” Jungkook rages. “Fuck your primordial cycle of endless punishment, Raphael. She is human, she’s not Lilith, she’s not a demon!”
“But the essence of a demon resides in her,” Raphael sharpens his tone, clearly in no mood to play games anymore. “How else could she feel pain right now?”
Jungkook’s dark brows furrow before settling his eyes on you, concern washing over him. One look at his face indicates that he knows exactly what’s going on, scrounging up enough strength to speak.
“Jungkook… what’s happening to me?”
Your fragile, broken voice causes Jungkook’s irises to glisten, sniffling away his tears as his expression hardens—Raphael’s the one who answers your question.
“Demons cannot withstand being in heaven; the pure energy here is damning to them, enough that it can kill them.” He robotically states, even if there’s a modicum of concern in there. “Only powerful demons are able to withstand it. It weakens them—causes horrible pain—but they can endure it.”
The realization crashlands on you, tears flooding your eyes as you swallow dryly. “I’m… I’m a demon?”
Raphael straightens his face, failing to show his emotions now. “Humans do not feel pain in heaven, but if you feel pain…”
You shudder out the weight crushing your heart, a gruesome chill crawling up your spine.
Your world turns upside down, but Jungkook grovels with frustration, shooting daggers at Raphael. The righteous Archangel swallows, shaking his head as he regards Jungkook. “You could’ve avoided this, brother. Your greatest sin was falling in love with her; remember that.”
Raphael stalks his way out of whatever detainment center this is, its pristine, unstained white almost daunting, serving as a reminder that it can only be sullied by your inferior existence.
Heaving for air, your hands begin to tremble, your entire body wracked by violent shivers. Jungkook’s face becomes riddled with sympathy, gripping the bars that divide you two. “Y/N, hey, talk to me. Are you okay?”
“No, no I am not okay, Jungkook.” You raise your voice, which only causes the echo to splinter your head, whimpering.
Jungkook winces, eyes flickering with worry. “I get it, I understand, Y/N, but you need to talk to me. What’s going through your head? What are you feeling—”
“What’s going through my head? What’s going through my fucking head?!” You shout. “What’s going through my head is where the hell are we?! Why are we here?! Why does everyone keep telling me I’m a fucking demon?!”
“Woah, hey, hey, calm down, baby. You’re fine, okay? Just look at me, you’re fine.” Jungkook attempts to pacify you, which only embeds more misery in you.
“I can’t calm down, Jungkook. I can’t… I swear… I’m not a demon. I’m just a human; a stupid, measly human that gets B’s in her classes and worries about her future and goes home for the holidays. I’m not a bad person… I’m not a demon, I’m not a demon!”
“I know, Y/N, I know,” Jungkook swallows thickly, his eyes shimmering with regret, guilt, every negative emotion he had the capacity to feel. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Y/N. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve any of this. You’re right; you’re a good person and you’re not a demon.”
“I’m not a demon,” you feebly deny, really to yourself. You clutch your knees to your chest and borderline hyperventilate, repeating to yourself. “I’m not a demon… I’m not a demon, Jungkook. I promise, I’m not a demon, I’m not a bad person.”
When tears prick your eyes and you bury your head into your knees, it’s like a blackhole swallows Jungkook’s insides, leaving him empty—in despair.
“I know you’re not, Y/N. You’re not a demon, you’re not a bad person. You’re not Lilith—you’re you, Y/N. You’re you in the most annoying, yet adorable way that makes me wanna wrap you up in a warm blanket and snuggle you to death; either to cuddle you or to shut you up.”
His playful words actually invite you to laugh, the sound only lasting a mere second before it's replaced by painful sobs, tears cascading down your cheeks. “Where are we… Jungkook, why are we here?”
“We’re in the infamously overrated paradise.” He jokes at first, before biting back his own tears watching you cry. “We’re in Heaven, angel. And it’s just like I said; they arrested us. We’ll be having our hearing whenever they decide we’re worthy of one.”
Your horrified eyes flash in Jungkook’s direction, his expression softening with empathy as he regards you. You lean back against the pure white wall behind you, staring at the endless ceiling, wondering how things could’ve gotten this screwed up.
It’s been hours now, or what you think to be hours. The lack of a clock and being in a celestial realm must’ve hijacked your sense of time. You and Jungkook sat in silence for much of it, certain that he was allowing you the time to digest all of this, to provide you the space you need.
“Why don’t you feel pain?”
The sudden sound of your voice rejuvenates Jungkook, his beautiful eyes flickering towards you. “Hm?”
“The pain that I feel, why don’t you feel it, too? You’re the devil.”
Jungkook deeply inhales before exhaling, his eyes kind once he turns towards you. “It doesn’t hurt me because I was formerly an Archangel; technically still am, so I’m not really a demon, just estranged from this place. It’s more like… coming home after running away.”
You absorb that information, letting it distract you from the constant ache behind your eyes. “Good to know.”
You dip your head back again, breathing through the incessant pain. Your mind swirls with numerous thoughts; last words, last conversations—what is one meant to do when they’re steps away from a death sentence?
“Y/N… we never got to finish our conversation.” Jungkook’s silky, beautiful voice dances in your ears. It feels like an anchor, something to hold onto despite your impending doom.
“Which one?”
“About me being able to hear your thoughts.”
You swallow dryly, turning away to conceal your grimacing expression.
“Listen, I’m sorry I never told you. I just knew it was useless because it’d be impossible for you to hide your thoughts from me, and you’d be under constant stress and anxiety trying to.” He explains himself, turning the entirety of his body to face you. “I swear; I was never trying to play mind games with you. I never… used something you thought to gain my way. Your thoughts were like something special I got to have with you, like always getting to hear my favourite song.”
Your heart throbs hearing that, the gentleness laced in his words easing you.
“It helped me understand you, it helped me realize that I never wanted you to hide the dark parts of yourself from me—that you’d be safe with me, and it’d be okay to have those thoughts.” You want nothing more than to see his face right now, slowly turning towards him to find the sweetest shimmer in his eyes.
“It just… feels a little weird, is all—you could hear all the dark, sinful thoughts I had.” You inhale sharply, clearing your throat, warmth flooding your cheeks. “You could hear all the dirty things I thought about you.”
Jungkook chuckles, bouncing a brow. “Oh, trust me, that was the most entertaining part.”
Your mouth falls agape. “You’re obnoxious.”
“Please; the amount of times I’d hear you wondering whether I’d let you ride my back or not. The answer is yes, angel, I’d totally let you.” His saccharine sweet smile prompts laughter out of you, becoming sentimental. This is what you loved most about Jungkook, you loved that he could make you laugh, that even in the face of an unavoidable death, he could crack jokes that surrenders even some of your pain.
“How… are your powers now?” You hesitantly query. “You said you couldn’t really hear me anymore, and you used a lot trying to fight off the Archangels.”
“They’re still there; I can feel them. If anything, I don’t feel as weak and fragile.” Jungkook tugs at his chains to demonstrate his strength. “I think I regained my angel form by being in a celestial plane, but I can’t use my powers at all.”
“Of course; it’s Heaven and you’re Lucifer.” You sigh, knocking your head back. Jungkook hums in agreement, mirroring your action. You hate the silence that befalls you two; it only causes your mind to swim in a sea of dismaying thoughts, eventually drowning in them.
“What’s going to happen to us, Jungkook?” Your cadence trembles, poorly attempting to contain a fresh set of tears. “What are they going to do to us?”
Jungkook fails to react, merely staring before him. His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t know…”
The hopelessness in his tone incites your tears again, sniffling them away before they tip over. Jungkook’s eyes slide over to you, concern bleeding into his features. He grips the bars to shuffle closer to you, reaching out his hand. “Come here, come to me.”
You crawl towards the bars, tightly grasping his extended hand. He cradles you meaningfully, entwining your hands together as firmly as he can, warm eyes set on you. “Listen to me, Y/N, I won’t let anything bad happen to you—I promise. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you’re safe.”
The sincerity in him brightens the darkness clouding your heart, forcing a smile. “You don’t have to, Jungkook.”
“No, I want to, and I will save you; no matter what it takes.” Your gazes lock to enter a boundless world where only you and him exist, fighting back your misery. You lean you forward, and Jungkook finds your forehead in the middle through the space between the bars. He delicately runs his thumb over the back of your hand, turning upwards to plant a long, deep kiss to your forehead.
“You remember that I love you, Y/N.” He says.. “That’s all you need to do for me; just remember that I love you… that I’ve loved you through lifetimes, and I always will.”
You swallow thickly, refusing to succumb to another breakdown. “What Raphael said… about loving me.” Jungkook silently dotes on you, lifting his chained hand to smooth your hair.
“What?”
“He said that loving me was your greatest sin.” You rehash the agonizing statement, squeezing his hand. “Is that true? Is loving me your greatest sin?”
Jungkook slowly exhales, tilting his head as he admires your eyes—the unadulterated love that pours out of him is enough to grip your heart. “There’s nothing I would change about loving you.”
You feel joy for all of five seconds before your ribs crack with realization, chest cavities filling with the pieces of your broken heart. “But it would’ve been easier, wouldn’t it? Not loving me?” You sniffle, tears shaking in your eyes. “You should’ve never loved me in the first place.”
You can see Jungkook’s heart shatter in his face, his eyes revealing his wounded soul. “Do you regret it?” He asks, cradling your jaw, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “Do you regret falling in love with me?”
“No, Jungkook, I don’t regret falling in love with you.” You embrace his hand that holds you, conveying your words with undeniable truth. “I just wish it could have lasted forever.”
Subsequently, you and Jungkook are interrupted by the door swinging open, followed by three burly, guard-like angels stomping in. Their size intimidates you, cowering away as they stalk towards your cell as though they must complete a task. They unlock your door, infiltrate your space and suddenly stand before you, Jungkook immediately protesting.
“Hey, what are you—”
Rapidly, you’re grabbed at by two men, resisting your number one course of action. “What the hell? Let me go!”
You kick and bat at them, but the pain knocking around inside your entire body is disconcerting, forcing your limbs to give up much earlier than you desire. You're lifted up against your will, attempting to snatch your arms back while Jungkook spills endless profanities.
“Why are you assholes manhandling her? She’s already chained up!”
The silent angels refuse to say a word, merely shooting Jungkook a menacing look before the third angel settles before you, reaches inside his coat, and maliciously plunges a dagger into your stomach. The pain that pierces you is indescribable, screeching with agony as blood begins staining Jungkook’s black shirt on your body.
“Y/N! Holy shit, Y/N!” Jungkook ceaselessly shouts, his voice cracking with horror once the crimson red trails down your skin and spills on the floor. “What the hell was that for? Why did you stab her?!”
“She must be weakened before she is taken to see the Council—she must not be a threat.” The one holding a dagger with your blood speaks—his voice is so lethally calm, you’re quite literally terrified. Your breaths quicken, increasing the gut-wrenching ache of your open wound, whimpering in pain.
“Are you fucking serious? She’s going to bleed to death before she even sees them!”
“This is Heaven, you forsaken angel. She cannot die.” The angel belittles Jungkook before nodding towards the two seizing you. They release you and you tumble to the ground, clutching your stomach as you cough out heaps of carmine blood, excruciating pain spreading across your body.
Jungkook’s worry is mountainous now, thrashing at his chains and the bars of his cell. “For fuck’s sake, I’ll smite all of you before you touch her again, let me help her!”
“There is no need, Lucifer; they’ve decided.” The angel’s sickeningly relaxed tone sounds daunting, causing Jungkook’s eyes to widen. “They’re ready for your hearing now.”
Simultaneously, you’re apprehended yet again by the same guard dogs, twitching in pain as your own blood stains the pristine white of everything; the angels’ clothes, the floor, the cell’s bars as you feebly reach out to connect with Jungkook, but you’re brutishly denied.
Jungkook causes an ugly scene once two more guards invade his cell, shouting and resisting with all his might, tossing around threats to anyone who dares hurt you again, but he’s unwillingly apprehended too. Both of you are dragged out of the detainment area into a long, white corridor that seems to stretch for miles.
Droplets of your blood spill all over the floor, your bloody handprints staining the walls as you weakly fight for your freedom. Jungkook still rages on, refusing to go down quietly—you’d expect no less from your favourite hot-head, your only positive thought in a horrifying moment like this.
By the time your vision is becoming hazy from blood loss and your muscles lose their strength, you come face to face with an enormous, intricately embellished door that stretches far and wide. You’re only able to feel the fear pumping in your veins before the doors open, and you’re hauled into your own personal judgement day.
Collapsing to the ground, you’re harshly forced to stand upright, your spinning head able to at least determine Jungkook being tossed onto a podium in the center of everything, restrained with an unnecessary amount of chains.
You’re far from him, off to the side in whatever could be considered a jury’s box, except vacant of any jurors. It’s only yourself and your two ruthless guard dogs who bludgeon you to stand, subjected to observing four walls in a daze.
The room is vast and wide, housing what you assume is a prestigious, empyrean audience in the form of a coliseum. All eyes fall to Jungkook, their hushed, incessant whispers indicating exactly what Jungkook had divulged to you once—not many angels have ever seen Lucifer.
Your line of sight falls to the tall benches in front of him then—extremely similar to a judge’s bench—with three very familiar angels behind; Raphael, Michael and Gabriel, in that exact order, with Michael’s slightly elevated in the middle.
How predictable.
Your cough suddenly draws the Archangels’ attention towards you, including Jungkook. He grits his teeth with a fed up expression, before his eyes glow their angry, fiery red at his estranged brothers.
“You better get on with this damn hearing so I can help her.” He scolds them, and a collective gasp from all the angels circulates in the room, indicative of their innocence towards cursing—Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I’m fucking Lucifer, what did you angels expect?”
More hushed whispering, and Jungkook grits his teeth. “I don’t need the theatrics, ‘brothers’; start this shit already.”
“Very well,” Michael blankly proceeds, straightening his already firm posture. “I’m sure you know what you’ve been brought here for today, Lucifer.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re gonna enlighten everyone and make me sound horrendously evil, anyway.” Jungkook’s saccharine sweet smile lathers his words with contempt.
Michael sighs, pitifully looking down at his brother. “You have been brought here today for your indiscretions not only in Hell, but on Earth as well.” Michael’s damning voice booms around the room, truly baffled by how much raw power he contains. “Lucifer; your journey of sin began in Hell with your ill-natured fixation on a certain human.”
“‘Ill-natured?’” Jungkook’s face scrunches. “I was in love with her, but you ripped her away from me and—“
“Moving on,” Michael overrides Jungkook, who seals his mouth shut and indignantly listens. “Your fixation caused sloth to compromise your duties. You had begun neglecting your mandatory tasks and relinquishing your role as Lucifer for a mere human, one who houses a demon at that.”
The little whispers here and there were irritating, even causing you to grind your teeth—it was hard managing the pain in your stomach as you struggled to listen.
“This is why you were banished from Hell and onto Earth, where your lesson was to meet the very same human that compromised your duties and condemn her wicked soul to hell as she houses the vicious demon Lilith.” Michael practically spits, and the entire room of angels collectively gasp at the information. You couldn’t stand their theatrics either—if only they knew the truth.
“Not only did you refuse your duties, but violated our most absolute rule regarding the secrecy of our celestial identities on Earth, and wrongfully utilized your powers. Subsequently, rather than reaping the consequences of your actions, you disregarded our rules and fell in love with an evil incarnate.”
The imposing Archangel speaks his piece so convincingly well, he effortlessly riles up your fighting spirit. How could a “good” being be so vindictive? “Considering your crimes, Lucifer, this human is to be banished to Hell for her harbouring of a demon, while you will have your memory erased of her existence as punishment for your improprieties and to ensure you continue your role as Lucifer as dutifully as you can.”
“What?!” Jungkook exclaims, straining at his chains as anger visibly seeps into his bones. “You can’t do that to her, you can’t! I won’t remember her and she’ll be horribly punished by me!”
“For that is exactly what must happen, Lucifer.” Michael confirms. “You of all beings should be aware of what punishment sin invokes.”
Jungkook clamps down on his teeth with rage. “This is unfair; it was never her fault the soul of Lilith was reborn in her, that’s your fault!” Jungkook accuses. “Do these angels here even know the real story? The real reason why you’re punishing Y/N and I?!”
Michael swallows, sharpening his eyes. “There is no other story, Lucifer. She is a demon and cannot be allowed to freely roam Earth.” Michael then directs his attention to the coliseum of angels, speaking with an elegance that funnily contradicted his immoral doings. “This, my fellow angels, is Lucifer. The traitor, the iniquitous being that dared defy his angelic nature to maintain his royal stature, to relish in the power he was gifted rather than be thankful to his creator. He will say anything, do anything of the sort to gain your sympathy, to manipulate you and allow sin to defile you. He will lie, he will cheat, and he will remain greedy for more power; you are to never feel sorry for him.”
Anger was an understatement, pure white hot fury pulsed through your veins. How could Jungkook be painted to be such a malevolent existence when his duties are forced upon him? When he didn’t choose this life nor to have his own brothers turn their backs on him? You couldn’t keep your mouth shut—your blood ragingly boiled.
“How dare… you?” You cough, breathing through the pain searing your stomach. “How dare you keep the real story from them? How dare you fail to mention the truth and punish him for simply falling in love?!”
Michael’s cut-throat gaze nearly harms you, and a bitter laugh escapes him. “Of course, his lover would say such a thing.” He announces, motioning towards you and Jungkook. “In this woman resides a demon who is in love with this wretched devil. She is blind to the atrocities he commits and has been corrupted by his sinful lies.”
“Atrocities? You’re saying I’ve committed atrocities? You’re the one who harms humans!” Jungkook shouts, the echo of his words causing the chittering angels to hush. “Have you told them that, huh? The way your angels chased and terrorized me and Y/N on Earth? Have violently abused her and nearly killed her? A human?”
“She is not human, she is a demon, and she will continue to be a demon that will rein terror on Earth. She is to be banished and punished!”
“She’s not a demon, she only has the essence of one because you’re the one that put it there in the first place! Look at her, fucking look at her!” Jungkook insists, hardening his murderous eyes and blood-boiling features. “All of you, look at her. Don’t you see her blood? Don’t you see that she’s bleeding?”
Michael scoffs. “I do not care for her blood—”
“No, you need to listen.” Jungkook grits, now flashing his tenacious eyes at the wide-eyed, quiet angels around him. “You all know what blood means. Blood means that she is human, a living, breathing human. A demon can’t bleed, only humans do.” Jungkook pleads, pouring his soul into his words. “It’s only because she’s in heaven that she hasn’t bled out, but if she were on Earth? She would’ve died 10 minutes ago. When the Councils’ people came for her on Earth, they nearly shattered her spine, crushed her windpipe, and abused her knowing she’s human. She only survived because of my powers. What do you think would’ve happened if I wasn’t there? If this happened to any other human?”
Jungkook’s words permeate the dense, thinking room, slowly digesting his point. “Don’t you know what that means? It means these people were willing to kill a human. She’s an innocent human just like the beings you’re all meant to protect, the souls that you are meant to nurture, guide towards good, and yet you’re going to sit there and let Michael tell you otherwise? Condone the near killing of one? Let him banish her to hell under the accusation that she’s a demon, when she isn’t?”
“Save your speech, devil.” Michael shuts down Jungkook. “You have still violated our rules by revealing to her you were Lucifer and using your powers. The essence of a demon still resides in her and you will do anything to defy us—”
“No! This isn’t about me saving myself, I don’t care about myself at all. I wouldn’t have violated any of those rules if you didn’t cast me out in the first place and threatened to harm her—how else could I fight off your minions trying to hurt a human without my powers?” Jungkook speaks with resolve, enough that you watch the angels’ faces change in regards to his words, all deeply thinking.
“This is about her; her name isn’t Lilith, her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She was born in Inglewood, California, she’s a Psychology major that eventually wants to become a therapist who helps people. She hates modern music and loves listening to classics. Her favourite food’s shawarma and she’s a horrible cook but makes a mean breakfast with her favourite purple frying pan every morning. She has a million cushions because she can never stop herself from buying them, can’t swim to save her life, and she’s an absolute baby with pain. She also drives the most beat-up Prius on the face of planet Earth.”
Your eyes water with a smile listening to Jungkook, wondering when he retained all this, heart throbbing at the fondness in his tone.
“She’s stubborn, and loud and obnoxious and has this witty mouth that makes me want to duct tape it shut sometimes,” Jungkook laughs, glistening eyes focusing on his audience. “But she’s loyal, and fierce and kind and caring. Her favourite things in the world are butterflies, because she believes their beauty is similar to the beauty of humans, and she still believes in pinky-promises. She’s the only person that has ever looked at me and not seen something evil, something to be neglected and thrown away. She understood me; she understood that helping me meant putting her own life in danger and she did it anyway.” Jungkook sentimentally recalls, sniffling away his tears. “These aren’t the traits of a demon, they’re the traits of a good human. She’s a fighter, she’s pure and good and she may be imperfect, but she’s imperfectly human. So please, don’t let Michael brainwash you. Understand that you will be punishing an innocent human soul; it’s not her fault that the essence of a demon resides in her. It’s forced upon her, it’s involuntary, and there’s absolutely no justice in condemning her.”
The room has fallen into a reflective silence, all by the eloquence of Jungkook’s touching words, the raw emotion their doused in. “So I’m asking you as Lucifer, even as the ruthless ruler of hell and the nefariously-known devil, to make your choice; either blindly send an innocent human to Hell… or help her.”
The angels hesitantly turn and discuss matters with each other, hearing a myriad of speculations.
“He is Lucifer, he must be lying.”
“But she is bleeding; he is right, demons do not bleed.”
“But the essence of Lilith still resides in her, it may be a matter of time before she turns evil.”
“But it is true she’s human; angels are not meant to harm humans.”
“Michael is hiding something, there seems to be more to the story. We musn’t decide without the details.”
Michael’s frantic eyes shoot around, observing everyone’s chatter. “Fellow angels, do not believe a word out of his mouth; he is a sinner, a defiler—”
“Hush, Michael.” Raphael eases his brother. “You must let the angels decide; may I remind you they are the voices of Heaven, we do not act irrationally without the say of our companions and every being brought before us must be granted the fairness of discretion.”
“Seriously, Brother,” Gabriel cuts in. “Great haste makes great waste; we must listen to their verdicts.”
Michael grinds his teeth with indignance, seating himself rigidly with murderous side-glances in your direction. The angels relentlessly chitter away, causing Raphael to lift his hand and order their silence.
“Lucifer,” he begins, folding his hands over his bench. “Y/N may be human now, but who is to say she will not be consumed by the essence residing within her? How can we be sure that setting her free will not be unleashing a known, merciless demon on Earth?”
Jungkook chews on the questions, strengthening his timbre. “I’ll personally make sure of it; I’ll keep an eye on her since I would know exactly when she’s being taken over by Lilith—no other demon or regular angel would be able to overpower her, anyways.”
“And who’s to say you won’t hide the truth from us?” Gabriel queries. “We may be willing to hear you out, but you do not have our trust, Lucifer. Unless you can provide a surefire method that proves her innocence will stay intact and that you won’t act irrationally because of your feelings for her, we cannot discuss negotiations further.”
Jungkook violently grinds his teeth, the gears in his head turning, spiralling as he formulates a plan. “I’ll… um…” He hesitates, a troubled expression etching onto his face.
That moment of silence serves him the second he needs to collect himself, shutting his eyes with a deep breath, until he opens them, assured of his answer. “If you grant me my role back in Hell, I’ll erase the memories she has of me; if I erase them she won’t remember any of this, she’ll live her life as a regular human none-the-wiser, and therefore will remain innocent. It will eradicate the consequences of me revealing myself and my powers to her as well, and keep the demon Lilith at bay.”
The loudest gasp in the room must’ve been yours, tears flooding your eyes within seconds, fighting against the two guard dogs restraining you. “No, no! Jungkook, don’t you dare, don’t you dare do this!”
“Again, how can we be sure your feelings for her will not compromise your actions?” Raphael queries, while Michael brews with anger and Gabriel wonders the same.
“Me removing our memories of each other should be enough proof, no?” Jungkook miserably replies. “I’m willing to return to my duties, do whatever you tell me and erase all traces of myself from her life; I’m willing to let her go for her vindication despite my feelings for her, and you can instead punish me all you want in return.”
“No, Jungkook, no!” You incessantly scream, not caring for the physical pain anymore; the tearing of your heart out of your chest felt more excruciating than anything. “You can’t do this, stop it!”
“Brother, are you truly willing to do this?” Raphael seriously asks, a small sliver of concern in his tone. “You are to erase everything she knows of you, everything you have shared, while you are to remain with your memories and have that pain be a part of your punishment. Are you certain your feelings for her will not compromise this negotiation?”
Jungkook weakly laughs, exhaling deeply. “I’d never do anything to put her in danger; so yes, I’m willing to do this and never see her again; to keep her safe.”
Your screams must’ve been loud, and yet Jungkook ignores each and every one of them, watching everyone discuss his words. They ruminate about his offer until Raphael silences the room, even Michael tamed enough to let Raphael take the lead.
Raphael straightens his posture, projecting his voice. “You’ve heard what he’s offered, fellow angels. If you are in favour of banishing Y/N to hell where she is to suffer for her transgressions with Lucifer and the potential threat she poses on Earth, lift your hand.”
You watch a good handful agree to that; you couldn’t tell how many angels were in this room, but even a handful appeared to be a lot.
“Now, those in favour of taking Lucifer’s offer and allowing this girl to live freely as a human?”
You’re shocked; at least 70% of the room raises their hands, indicating which solution as the victor. But even if that meant sparing your life, you couldn’t bear to endure what came next.
“No, no no no, don’t let him erase himself from me, don’t let him take my memories!” You screech to nobody in particular, voicing your piercing pain. “Please, Jungkook, don’t do this. You can’t suffer because of me, you can’t!”
All you hear in that moment is Raphael announcing the final verdict; you’re to live as long as Jungkook erases your memories, and he regains his throne in Hell so long as he’s allowed to endure whatever punishment the Council sees fit.
Your teary eyes connect with Jungkook during the announcement, conveying a million things that beg him to stop this, to take it all back, to just find another way. But his kind, sweet eyes indicate he’s not going to do such a thing—you feel every vessel in your body cease to function when you see him mouth the faintest, most miserable two words as his only response.
‘I’m sorry.’
You’re hurled into another shady, white room, heaving from the impact on your pierced stomach. The door’s shut before you can even beg to see Jungkook, spiraling from what’s going to transpire.
You’ll fight, no, you’ll use absolutely every ounce of adrenaline within you to stop Jungkook. He can’t erase your memories of him, he can’t simply steal the memories that mean everything to you.
Yes, at one point, you would’ve craved losing all traces of him within yourself to live a sound, peaceful life. But you’re tethered to him now, boundlessly, as though your soul was made for him—to love, cherish and fight for him. Even if it means enduring excruciating pain, you’ll do whatever you must; it’s undeniable what lengths you’re willing to go for him now.
In your sea of misery, the sound of the door clicking open alarms you, finding an unrestrained Jungkook sneaking his way in. You can hear the incessant drone of the commotion outside, knowing the coliseum of observers must be in a tizzy.
“Jungkook!” You breathe, forgetting about your bloodied stomach and leaping into his arms. Jungkook swiftly catches you, embracing you as dearly as he would a treasure. His hand weaves through your hair as the other cradles your back, his face burying in your neck.
“Y/N,” he breathes, basking in you. He draws away to analyze your face, frantic eyes revealing worry. “Are you still in pain? Did they hurt you again?”
“No, no,” you quickly shake your head, holding his jaw. “Jungkook, please tell me you lied. Tell me you lied and you’re not going to take anything from me. I don’t want to forget you, I don’t want to forget us; I won’t let you.”
You couldn’t bear how pathetic you sounded, but who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? You couldn’t believe half of whatever transpired in the last 24 hours, but all you truly believed was the way you felt about Jungkook, this one man who’s holding you like you’re his everything and more, who’s thrown away his entire life for you.
“I know, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” He apologizes, running his thumb over your cheek. “But I promise, I’m doing this for us, I really am.”
You notice the deflection in his words, sorrow flooding your alreasy miserable features. “You’re still going to do it? You’re going to take everything we had away from me?” Anger replaces your sadness soon, unbelieving of him right now. You touch your feet to the ground and force space between you two, refusing him. “No, you can’t do this, you fucking can’t!”
Jungkook approaches you carefully, holding a finger to your lips. “Y/N, shh, let me explain, okay? It’s not what you think.”
Opening your mouth to counter him, you’re interrupted by the door opening again, revealing a furtive, distraught Raphael.
“Brother,” he urgently calls Jungkook, rapidly shutting the door behind him. “Michael nearly had my head for suggesting I visit you rather than him. Do you truly understand what you are to do? Erasing her memories will not absolve her of her eternal punishment, she will still be reborn into another lifetime. You are only delaying the inevitable.”
“No, Raphael, I’m allowing an innocent human to live out the rest of her life without the burden of me.” Jungkook reasons. “I understand the consequences, I understand everything; just please, let me do this. Hold off Michael for now and I promise I’ll hold up my end.”
Raphael grits his teeth, taking one good look at you, then at Jungkook, his eyes burning with a myriad of emotions; the only distinct one is exhaustion. “Fine, I can only grant you five minutes.”
Raphael turns on you both and disappears in the blink of an eye, leaving you and Jungkook alone again—you regain your ability to fight.
“Jungkook, don’t you dare—”
“Shh, shh,” Jungkook coos, taking your face in his palms. “Angel, listen to me, I’m not going to take away your memories.”
Your eyebrows furrow, struggling to speak. “Wh-what?”
“I’m not doing it. I’m not taking away what we had to appease those fucks, okay? I won’t bow down to them, especially when they think they’re right when they’re wrong.” Jungkook seethes, his eyes more sincere than ever. “I’m going to pretend like I erased them from you, we’ll have you sent back to Earth while I find a way to undo your eternal punishment.”
Your head practically spins, the room far too small for you to breathe in. “Wait… you lied? You won’t erase my memories? Won’t they figure out—”
Jungkook, despite the situation, actually cracks a devilish grin. “I’m Lucifer, angel, I can do anything, and I will for you.”
You digest everything slowly, holding a stressed hand to your forehead. “But I’ll be sent back to Earth, I’ll be without you, Jungkook. And I’ll be human; one human life on Earth is nothing compared to your immortal, celestial one.”
Jungkook’s face softens. “I know, I know it won’t be the same. But please, let me do this, okay? I promise, I pinky-promise I’m going to find a way to undo your punishment, to make sure you live a long, happy life without me.”
“There’s no guarantee you’ll find anything, Jungkook. This has been going on for entire lifetimes… who knows how long you’ll take to find something?” You exasperate. “You can’t say goodbye… you can’t say goodbye to me like this.” Your grip his hands on your face, shaking your head with vehement denial. “Don’t send me back, please don’t send me back without you, Jungkook, please.”
Jungkook breathes in strongly, composing himself. “I’ll make sure angels never bother you, but if they do, act like you don’t know me, okay?” He explains, choosing to neglect the way you beg him to come with you, and continuing. “I know it’s going to hurt, which is normal because even if I did go through with erasing myself from your memories, you’ll still feel like something’s missing. So it’s alright if you’re sad for a bit, but don’t think of me, Y/N. Don’t cry over me, don’t dream of me or miss me. Make yourself forget me and meet someone new, build a life for yourself and live the way you choose.”
“Stop it, stop!” You attempt to shove him away, even whacking his chest, but Jungkook goes on, silently enduring the pain while maintaining a calm facade for you.
“Accept yourself, all of you—even the dark parts you hate. Don’t apologize for who you are to anyone, don’t hide your beauty because you doubt your self-worth, and don’t ever let anybody cage you in.” Jungkook declares passionately, holding you desperately. “You’re my angel, baby, you’ve got wings… and I know you’ll fly only if you let yourself.”
Jungkook leans down to seal your lips for a deep, consuming kiss. He endearingly connects your foreheads afterwards, even entwines your little pinkies together to bind his promise, and all you can do is cry and plead, devising ways to run from this room, to valiantly refuse him, to tear down his house of cards, but you’d only cause Jungkook more harm—puts all his efforts to waste.
So you cry. You cry, wail and sob as Jungkook presses a meaningful kiss to your forehead and whispers to you one last time, “I love you, Y/N,” he softly says, your heart wrought with despair, your chest collapsing with unbearable agony. Your body is overcome with a bright, bright light, and you can’t do this, you can’t.
“Jungkook!”
His silky smooth voice serenades you before you feel every particle in your body slowly fade away, his last words your only salvation.
“Y/N… Fly.”
“Bitch, you need to come out more. This Halloween party is going to be huge and you better show up in something slutty.”
“I don’t know, Mads, I’m not really up for a party.”
“Please, you haven’t been up for anything for months, Y/N. Seriously, what the hell happened to you over the summer? It’s really worrying me, babes.”
“Nothing… I… just… my night terrors. I haven’t been getting much sleep because of them and I’m too tired for a party.”
“Awh, well, alright then. You know I value your health over anything. If you need someone to stay the night with you you’ll call me, right?”
“Of course, Mads, thanks.”
You abruptly end the call, leaning back on the maple bench you warm up as dried, orange leaves scatter around your feet. Inhaling a deep breath of the fresh, autumnal air, you steal a moment to enrich your lungs with much-needed oxygen.
Only a single moment, though, before the hole in your heart reminds you of how hollow you really are, and no oxygen will remedy that.
Heartless; that’s what you were. As though somebody had torn out your heart and you now merely survive as a husk, unable to feel anything. Agony wasn’t a strong enough word, not even excruciating. The kind of pain you’ve felt for the last three months left you numb; numb to sensation, to feeling, to anything.
You barely noticed when the season changed, let alone retained a single article of academic knowledge when your classes restarted. The semester blurred, much like everything else around you as it began to rain outside, and it dripped all over your hair and face, your jacket and shoes.
You didn’t bother drying yourself or ducking under a building; nothing bothered you much these days. You grab your bag, rise up from your seat, and steadily stalk towards your car you’d parked somewhere on campus.
Climbing in, you toss your bag in the passenger seat, simply sitting behind the wheel. You don’t turn on your car, don’t reach inside for your keys. You merely… sit, wallow, exist, things you do often these days.
It’s in your sitting that your radio suddenly turns on, playing a static version of ‘Devil In Her Heart’ by The Beatles—a miserable smile paints your lips, gripping your steering wheel.
“One of your favourites, isn’t it?” You ask, swallowing the lump clogging your throat. “Is it because of the actual song or because you remember it played the first night we met?”
You don’t get an answer, you never do. But you know he’s there, you know it’s him, you know he communicates with you sometimes.
It’s been three agonizing months since you had to leave Jungkook. For the first month, losing him obliterated such a large part of you, you didn’t leave your bed for weeks.
After waking up soundlessly in your apartment once you’d been casted out of heaven, it was as though your life hadn’t changed at all since you left—except that Jungkook was gone.
The loss of him was so agonizing, so soul-crushingly debilitating, basic human function wasn’t in your vocabulary anymore. You neglected your family and friends’, ignored their concerns, drove yourself into the ground by refusing to stand on your feet and feed yourself, let alone find a shred of happiness in anything.
Your night terrors even returned, haunting you nearly every night, recalling the ghastly scenes of your blood staining the purity of heaven, the traumatizing image of Jungkook handing over his freedom and autonomy to his despicable brothers.
Jungkook’s words constantly ran through your head, his words that angered you and yet kept you from ridding yourself of the pain forever. He envisioned so many passionate, enriching things for you—to saturate your life with all the possibilities he convinced himself his absence would grant you.
Turns out he was wrong.
But you couldn’t waste the chance he gave you by taking the easy way out. You had to live, you had to endure this—that didn’t ease the pain by even a sliver.
It started in the second month, when your appearance had severely changed, when you couldn’t recognize who stared back at you in the mirror anymore, when you could barely catch a single night of sleep with the amount you screamed yourself awake. Your parents had even visited you, fed up with your lack of communication, devastated by your mental health compromising your physical health. You returned to your bedroom where your mother slept in your bed, finding some feathers scattering it, contemplating when you or she possibly tore one of the many cushions Jungkook claimed you had.
You paid it no mind, chalking it up to your mother or depressed delirium.
Another day, you found the milk already taken out of your fridge when you scavenged inside it for breakfast. You’d convinced yourself you’d simply forgotten you ever took it out.
The next time, when your phone buzzed with a notification, revealing that you’d been tagged in a photo by an unknown user and clicked on your screen, you found that it led to a dead end. You constantly refreshed wondering if your Wifi simply died, but your lights all of a sudden flickered, and you nearly screamed when the cushions on your couch tore open, launching feathers in every feasible direction.
You watched as the fluffy white things slowly cascaded down to the ground, wondering what could possibly be happening to you… until it all came crashing down.
The feathers… when you and Jungkook first tussled in your bedroom and he tore your pillow open, causing dozens of feathers to litter your room.
There was only one answer—it’s him.
Soon after, it was your car randomly playing his favourite songs. It was suggestions to his favourite restaurants open on your laptop, being drawn to his favourite places in town. Then it was the playful, harmless pet names etched into the steam on your bathroom mirror, ‘human’, ‘angel’, ‘my baby’. They were little signs of him, little anecdotes that he was real, that he can see you, maybe even hear you.
Does he watch you? From his throne in hell? Is he still looking for a way out of your punishment? You wonder millions of things constantly. Is he being punished right now? Is he suffering for you? Has he been caught and everything you’re hoping for has already been taken away from you?
You lean back in your car seat, fighting the violent tears threatening to spill. “I’m not going to that stupid party, Jungkook. I’m not fucking going.” You deny him, knowing that he wants you to go, that he wants you to live your shitty life as though there’s any happiness to be found in it. “I’m not going to fucking live my life when you’re not here, you asshole. There’s nothing happy in my life without you, okay? I’m not gonna cram myself into some slutty angel costume and grind against sweaty womanizing frat boys; they’re not you, Jungkook, they’re not you!”
Your outburst causes you to smack your dashboard, faltering your head on your steering wheel and wallowing in your self-loathing. Everything felt as though it was imploding from inside you, as though your soul would never find peace or joy.
The sound of your window being etched into catches your attention, seeing the text ‘go’ inscribed in Jungkook’s impeccable hand-writing. You sigh, nibbling your bottom lip to keep your emotions at bay. “Nothing good will come from me going, Jungkook.”
Again, your window reveals a new message. ‘For me?’
Swallowing thickly, a bitter laugh spills out of you, draping your arms over your steering wheel and using every ounce of your strength to not smash your head against it. You feel insane, borderline lunatic communicating with Jungkook like this, but it oddly fills you with even a semblance of comfort, wiping at your mascara-smudged eyes.
“Fine,” your voice cracks, sniffling again. “I’ll go, but only for you.”
‘Pinky promise?’
That, is the only thing that festers a hint of a laugh from you, recalling the precious night you taught him how to make one. If only you could go back…
“Okay, pinky promise.”
Inhaling a deep, shaky breath, you stare at the unnecessarily gargantuan frat house from its porch. The music bumps far too loudly, its bass practically vibrating the floorboards. You endlessly fidget with your fingers, impatient feet wiggling in your pearly heels.
Your costume feels too tight; its corset-style top accentuated your breasts and showcased your shoulders, your knee-high skirt frilly and embroidered with crystals. Large wings decorate your open back, and a halo sits pretty atop your head on a headband.
This is too much, you shouldn’t have done this. You shouldn’t have called Madison and let her handle your costume, because the pit in your stomach regarding meeting new people after being anti-social for months only grows deeper and darker inside you.
You nearly make a run for it until Madison catches you, scolding you with her prettily coloured and gem-ridden eyes that match her faerie costume.
“Oh no, missy, you’re getting in there before I kick your ass with my faerie magic.”
You wince, recalling a certain conversation. “Angels actually outrank faeries, Mads.”
She scrunches her features. “According to who?”
“Nevermind.”
“Whatever, you’re getting inside and having the time of your life, no excuses!”
Anxiety fills you at every possible turn once you’re submerged in the dancing, bustling bodies. The smell of weed and vape are so pungent you grimace every two seconds, and everyone reeking of alcohol or sweat doesn’t improve your experience, either.
“C’mon, have a drink!” Madison encourages you once she’s dragged you to the kitchen, offering fruit punch very obviously spiked with copious amounts of alcohol.
“Oh, no–I don’t think so.” You deny her, attempting to be polite, but a little voice in your head tells you otherwise.
‘He wanted you to live your life… to unapologetically be yourself.’
Inhaling a nervous breath, you grab the red solo cup from Madison’s hand and down the entire thing, feeling the alcohol burn your throat. You falter against the counter behind you, chest inflating and deflating as you let the liquor invade your system.
You suddenly feel… lighter, almost calmer. Your head storms less and the party appears livelier, not scarier. You fish yourself another cup of the fruity, boozy concoction, chugging it as though it were water. You take another drink, and another, before your brain begins pirouetting, loopy enough to actually smile at Madison when she comments on you finally earning a fun bone back in your gloomy body.
Every muscle is suddenly enriched with energy, a buzzing desire to move, to sway around, to dance. Madison practically reads your mind, hauling your ass onto the dance floor with a hoot and holler that genuinely excites you.
The raunchy music becomes your only muse, alcohol keeping your mind empty and your body swinging. You can’t believe how wasted you already feel, can’t believe the fun you’re having. You catch yourself laughing, smiling, singing—all things you’d lost the ability to comprehend ever since…
Your favourite track suddenly blares from the gigantic speakers, whooping along to the body-grinding lyrics with Madison as she hypes you up.
“Hell yeah, Y/N! Dance that shit out!” She cheers, smacking your ass when you spin around for her. “I’m so glad to see you having fun, this is exactly what you needed!”
Far too lost in yourself, you don’t even register Madison introducing you to a random guy, who happens to be smoking hot. Your drunk mind conjures up something to say to him; a botched introduction, a shitty pick-up line, frivolous questions, you’re not sure, but this man knows how to touch you, and his hands are tempting.
You cling around his neck, focusing on the dancing more than flirting with him, drowning in the beat of the blood-pumping music. It isn’t until you feel the guy’s hands moving elsewhere, and his face suddenly closing in on your lips, does your brain decide to finally work.
He’s going to kiss you, and your system… rejects that; it feels wrong. You instinctively push him away.
Clutching a hand to your forehead, it’s as though your alcohol-haze clears up, finally unearthing the rational part of your mind. Your eyes dart around you, unfamiliar with the scene. What are you doing? Why are you partying at a random frathouse with people you don’t even know? Why were you letting a random himbo run his hands all over you?
Just when the thought crashes down on you, the frat boy wraps his hands around your waist and invites you back, attempting to plant his lips on you again. You panic, frantically forcing him away.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” You profusely apologize, shoving your way through the crowd for space, air, something. You practically claw your way to the entrance, not even caring about Madison or where your other friends could be.
You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn't be having fun and indulging in alcohol, greed and lust. This isn’t you, none of this erases or fills the hole in your heart, none of this remedies the permanent black hole your soul was lost in.
This only proves exactly what’s haunted you for the last three months; you’re a sinful person that has a demon residing within her.
Your mind spins with thoughts of Jungkook, wondering what he could be thinking seeing you like this, seeing you enjoying yourself without him. Maybe it was fun for five seconds, but you don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve anything after the chaos your mere existence has caused, the trouble and grief you’d brought upon him.
He could be suffering for you right now, and that thought makes you sick to your stomach, fighting the bile crawling up your throat.
Heart racing and lungs desperate for air, your frantic feet carry you out into the streets, pacing God knows where. You just need to clear your head, you need to grasp what the hell you’re doing and who you think you are, barely recognizing the person you just were.
In all your thinking, you don’t consider checking both ways before stepping out into the road, attempting to flee the party, to get so far away nobody could chase you and beg you to be somebody you’re not, to convince you you’re deserving of anything good when really, you aren’t.
Unexpectedly, all you hear is a blaring horn, see the blinding headlights of a speeding car before you can sneak a glance at it. The second you do, you know it’s over, only a few feet between yourself and the racing vehicle.
You inhale a deep, shocked breath, limbs too frozen to move. You want to move, or do you? Do you perhaps deserve this? Is this really all you’re meant to amount to in life? Is this how it miserably ends?
You decide to… accept that fate, accept that this impact will most likely shatter your spine or crack your head open on the pavement below.
You shut your eyes, inhale a deep breath, ready to meet your end… but the impact never comes.
Instead, you feel arms wrap around your body and swiftly turn you out of the way, clutching you to their much larger body. The movement felt as smooth as butter, prying your eyes open to observe your saviour, and nearly collapsing.
Fear floods your system, knowing you must be seeing things, or must be in some sort of limbo between life and death, because there’s no way… no way in Hell you’re...
“Hey, angel.”
You swallow harshly as you peer up at Jungkook, still snug in his arms. He feels reals, he feels like flesh and bone and your initial reaction is to shove him away, taking several steps back. “No… impossible. This is impossible… this can’t be you… you’re an angel, aren’t you? I’ll kick your ass!”
Jungkook wets his lips, slowly tucking his hands in his black jean pockets with a laugh; a black shirt and matching leather jacket hug his brawny frame, too. His gaze is soft as he regards you, lips slightly curved into your favourite smile. “It’s me, angel.”
Blinking once, twice, three times doesn’t erase the image of him. For a second, you think you’re sincerely hallucinating, chalking this up to whatever hardcore crap somebody dumped in the fruit punch. Another minute goes by, and he doesn’t vanish, simply standing there as he patiently waits for you.
All of a sudden, tears wet your eyes, throat swelling with powerful, undeniable emotion as the realization hits you. “Jungkook?”
He shows off that bright, sexy grin of his, tonguing his lip ring. “Yes, angel?”
Your entire system is overwhelmed with pure rapture, feeling ten times lighter. Your heels clack over the pavement as you break out into a sprint, Jungkook happily holding out his arms for you. His joyful grin only brings more tears to your eyes, immediately hopping into him and feeling him effortlessly catch you. He squeezes the life out of you as sobs escape you, completely drowning in the disbelief that he’s actually here… he’s here.
“Jungkook… Jungkook…” you cry into his neck, attacked by all the familiar things you couldn’t bear missing anymore. His scent, his warmth, his strong body, his cold piercings, his protective hands that hugged you as though he’d been in the same pain as you.
“Yeah… it’s me, Y/N… it’s me.” Jungkook breathes as he cradles you tightly, stroking your hair, his voice thick with emotion, too. He inhales the fragrance of your hair, feeling his tense body relax before he draws away, smoothing his thumb over your cheek.
“How… how are you here? How can you be here?” A barrage of questions wreak havoc on you, only sated by Jungkook shushing you.
“Shh, let’s talk somewhere else, yeah?” He suggests, and you nod vehemently with a sniffle, not wasting the opportunity to tightly embrace him once again as Jungkook walks your entangled bodies down the street.
Jungkook lets your feet touch the ground after strolling the streets with you, taking his offer to seat yourself just outside a park, where he, too, takes his seat on a bench—his eyes never leave you.
“You know, I know I call you an angel, but I never thought I’d actually see you looking like one.” He comments as he leans back, crossing his leg over the other with an amused gaze. “A hot one, too.”
You muster the strength to laugh, sniffling away the last of your ugly tears. You slowly bite your lip, eager eyes flickering all over his unchanged, sinfully hot appearance. His hair wasn’t long anymore, rather cut shorter and styled impeccably, his ears showcasing pretty earrings that dangled deliciously by the sides of his face, maybe even sporting thicker muscles.
“You look different,” you note with a forced smile, skittish next to him. You weren’t sure how to act, too in awe of his current presence to care about your behaviour.
“You too, angel. Good different.” He returns the compliment, leaving you to pick at your nails, unsure of what to say.
“Jungkook…” You begin, clearing your clogged up throat. “How… how are you here?”
Jungkook clicks his tongue, contemplatively tapping the back of the bench he drapes his bulky arms over it. “Well, it’s a long story, but I basically used my good looks and undeniable charm to get my way through.” He flashes you a pearly white smile, causing you to laugh, ignoring the moisture flooding your eyes.
“I’m serious, Jungkook. How are you here… how can you even talk to me right now?”
Jungkook weightily sighs, leaning his head back to stare at the star-less sky above. “I was able to make a deal to come see how you were doing, look for signs of Lilith coming out, observe whether your memory loss is still ‘in-tact’.” Jungkook air-quotes, his expression falling. “But really… I just wanted to see you… I needed to.”
The ache in your chest burns you deeply, grinding your teeth to subdue the pain. “Why?”
Your whisper is so quiet, Jungkook faces you, his doe eyes just as beautiful as you remembered. “Y/N… I’ve been seeing everything; I knew you were going to let that car hit you.”
Embarrassed, you clear your throat, breaking eye contact with him. “Everything?”
“Everything.” He confirms. “I thought you’d eventually heal, that time would treat you right and you’d forget about me. But I couldn’t see you so upset anymore, I had to see you. I convinced the Council and the Big Man upstairs that I was just checking up; that they at least owed me that for the shit they’ve put me through.”
Your lips threaten to tremble, uselessly picking at the end of your dress to contain your emotions. “What did they do to you, Jungkook?” You tentatively ask, sniffling. “How did they… punish you?”
Jungkook swallows at that, hardening his expression as he stares elsewhere—his desolate, traumatized eyes are enough to tell you his story. “You don’t want to know.”
The information shatters you, sobs collecting at the back of your throat, fresh tears staining your cheeks.
When Jungkook sees you, sympathy overwhelms him. He carefully reaches out his hand, slowly clasping yours in your lap—you jolt at first, but the sensation melts you, tentatively clutching him back.
“I also came because… I wanted to tell you that I’ve tried everything, Y/N.” Jungkook speaks seriously, softly admiring how your stunning features are like stars creating the gorgeous constellations that is your face. “I had one of my best investigative princes of Hell Hobi look into it. I searched and searched myself… and there’s no way out of this for us, angel. There’s no way for me to stop your eternal punishment.”
That truth pierces your chest, but it’s already hollow, leaving you to simply nod, simmering with the news. “I had a feeling.”
Jungkook runs his thumb over the back of your hand, softening his voice. “I’m sorry… angel. I’m so sorry, I promised you.”
“It’s not your fault.” You shrug him off, wiping away a stray tear. You build up the courage to connect your eyes, plastering a small smile on. “It’s okay.”
Jungkook slightly smiles, but it’s sad too, releasing your hand to smooth over your hair, affectionately stroking it. He simply looks at you, his eyes communicating millions of things, unable to decipher what he feels. You remain quiet, too, only left to fall deeper into his abyss, no matter how macabre your fate.
“I’ll never be okay with this.” He says, struggling to maintain his composure. “I’ll never be okay… being away from you… watching you suffer so much that you’d contemplate ending your own life.”
You lean into his touch, breathing in his scent. “Me neither.”
Jungkook traces a strand of your hair, skimming down to play with your earring instead, his look full of longing. “I spent everyday in my own personal hell… watching you.”
You yearn to be closer to him, shuffling slightly, setting your hand over his toying with your jewelry.
“I couldn’t bear to watch it, I couldn’t… I couldn’t accept it. I knew I’d told you to forget about me, to live as if I never existed, but I also knew you were hurting, and I couldn’t watch you suffer. I sent messages to help you, to help ease your pain—I wanted you to hold onto the hope that you weren’t alone.”
Taken by his words, you understand them, nodding for him. Jungkook hesitates cupping your jaw, but does it anyway, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb. His sorrowful look, his pleading eyes tell you enough; he missed you just as much as you missed him, and the pain he felt was identical.
Nearly moving to fit into his arms, Jungkook winces, hesitantly retracing. His expression is riddled with contempt, grinding his teeth. “I’m not… I don’t know what to do. I can’t change anything, and I know I have to leave you again, but I can’t… I can’t move on without you.”
His troubled face floods you with sympathy, his clenched fists and rigid body pushing you to speak. “Then just… don’t, Jungkook.”
He furrows his brows. “I have to… it’s the only option.”
“It isn’t,” you whisper, capturing his attention. You feel incredibly vulnerable, but wear your heart on your sleeve, bearing all there is behind your ribcage; a tattered heart and broken soul that still loves him. “Condemn me, Jungkook, and we can see each other… we won’t have to be apart.”
“Y/N—”
“Jungkook,” you call him, grasping his hand with both of yours tightly, sending him a reassuring smile. “We’ve already had this argument, but we’re not meant to be apart. Our story, I know it’s not ideal, but it’s still ours. We get to relive our story as much as we want. Even if it means we start over, even if it means suffering the same fate and pain over and over again, none of it overpowers the gift of getting to love each other.” You speak passionately, searching his eyes deeply.
“We get to fall in love so many times, and getting to love you is the best thing I’ll ever do. So it’s okay, it’s okay if we’re destined to be ripped away from each other, because there is something so powerful about being able to find our way back, to fight for our love and what we have. I don’t care if I’m reborn several times over, I don’t care if we suffer in each lifetime, because it just means our love transcends that—it transcends space and time and even the workings of the universe. It means we’re unbreakable, and if that’s the case then I’ll gladly keep living in an endless loop of punishment, Jungkook, just to fall in love with you.”
Jungkook’s awestruck, his face etched with shock before he softens with realization, eyes glistening with emotion. “Do you mean that, angel?”
“Of course I do,” you laugh despite your tears. “You’re worth the cycle of punishment, you’re worth that and so much more; and if I get to spend an eternity proving that to you, loving you, then I wouldn’t want anything else.”
Jungkook decreases some of the space between you two, his tone grave. “But your life, Y/N. Your home, your family, your friends… you’ll lose it all.”
“All I need is you, Jungkook.” You assure him, leaning forward so that your foreheads connect, soaking up every ounce of his comforting presence. “Only you, nothing else.”
Jungkook inhales a deep breath as he absorbs this moment, too, intertwining your fingers together. “I’ll get us time,” he swears. “I promise, I’ll get us time in Hell together before anyone finds out you’re even there.”
You smile warmly, nibbling your bottom lip. “Don’t worry; I may be wrong in trusting the devil but I trust you, Jungkook. Any day.”
Jungkook’s grin is utterly gleeful, adoring the way his lip piercing curves along with his mouth. He suddenly holds out his hand, wiggling his littlest finger. “Pinky promise?”
Giggling with wet eyes, you nod, entwining your pinky with his. “Pinky promise.”
Jungkook happily seals the vow, sliding his hand over your cheek and minimizing the space between your faces, teasing you with a hot breath. You wait for his kiss, diving in for it. Jungkook touches your lips together for a faint second before skimming past, whispering by your ear. “Close your eyes, angel.”
And in that moment, you clear your heart and your mind, completely handing over yourself to Jungkook, because nothing would ever mean more to you than he does. Your life was more than college parties, a plain-jane job and the holidays now; your life was Jungkook and the irrevocable bond you shared with him.
Your story was a symbol of something profound, something so invincible and everlasting, even time and space couldn’t destroy it.
So, fluttering your eyes shut, you clutched Jungkook’s hands for dear life, feeling a warm light envelope you before you felt the gentlest, most delicate peck to your lips by his own. Smiling, you disappeared into oblivion before you could return the kiss.
EPILOGUE.
Jungkook watches the hum-drum of boring human life in his unnecessarily large throne room, tapping his foot in an agitated rhythm. The sound echoes throughout his dark chamber of sin, his cheek resting in his palm with his legs spread out in his royal seat.
A knock to his door disrupts his regular flow, annoyingly sighing. “Whoever the hell that is, it better be something good.”
Upon his words, Jungkook’s shocked to hear his doors open, scoffing at whatever form of gall his visitor dares to possess. Jungkook rises from his seat, turning around to reprimand the low-life, until his expression is caught with immediate surprise, his eyes completely blown out.
“I think I’m much better than just something good, demon.”
Jungkook scoffs again, but this time with no malice. He tongues the inside of his cheek, feeling an insurmountable amount of pride and joy flood his chest. An insatiable wave of lust washes upon him seeing the sinful dress and gorgeous face in his doorway, eyes too playful for their own good.
“Well well well,” He smirks, perching his elbow on his throne, completely, and utterly taken by you. “If it isn’t my one and only angel.”
#namkook moonrise masquerade#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook fanfic#thebtswritersclub#kwritersworldnet#bangtansorciere#ksmutclub#btswritingcafe#bangtanarmynet#purplearmynet#btscreatorscorner#btsdreamcourt#clubzerooclock#bts smut#bts fluff#bts angst#jungkook x reader#bts x reader#bts jungkook#jungkook#fic: hotter than hell#jungkook imagine
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sanguine - jjk- part one
⟶title: sanguine
⟶au: vampire au, arranged marriage au, royalty au
⟶ pairing: vampire king!jungkook x human queen fem reader
⟶ rating: 18+
⟶ genre: romance, kinda slow burn?, smut, angst
⟶wc: 10.5k
⟶warnings: some swearing, mentions of blood, lots of sexual tension, one kiss, a bit angsty, reader is a badass. No smut for this part my fellow horny bitches, but there is certainly smut in the future.
⟶ summary: Marry the vampire king. Save the kingdom.
Your father is the king of a rare human kingdom that has been plagued by famine and sickness. And in a last ditch effort to save the kingdom, he has arranged for you to marry the vampire king to the north. Your hand in marriage in exchange for his help in saving your kingdom.
Everything you swore could never happen between the two of you begins to unfold as you spend more time in the vampire kingdom with its king and his subjects. Can you learn to love this place and it’s beloved ruler?
⟶ authors note: hi friends. this has been a whirlwind of a fic and this is only part one lol. it’s my baby in a way because I’ve had this idea for so long. I started writing it long before my king decided to actually grace us all with his vampire concept for his folio. that only encouraged me more to get this done.
A few shoutouts need to be made because without these people I don’t think I’d ever finished this. @jeonjcngkook jords, not only did you beta the shit out of this, but you’ve been there for me while I’ve written it and listened to me whine and cry for weeks. u have no idea how much it means. @haliiimede for reading through and convincing me that it wasn’t trash and giving me such lovely feedback. And also a huge thanks to @tea4sykes for reading through and encouraging me the whole way, ur the best Kay. @missgeniality siya, you absolute angel, I literally owe you big time for this amazing banner. and thank you for making me a new one when jungkook dropped all the vampire content lol. It’s so stunning.
(Vows found at vampireweddings.blogspot.com)
Alright enough blabbing, please enjoy! Send me all the feedback!
For the good of the kingdom.
For the good of mankind.
That was what your family kept telling you…no, they insisted that this was the only way.
Your father’s kingdom had become wrought with sickness, famine, and the people were starving. All of the resources available had been drained, there was nothing left.
And so, in a desperate plea for help, your father went to the vampire kingdom in the north, with whom your kingdom shared a border. And while the vampire king was willing to help, he wanted to make sure that this alliance was official and binding. He asked that you marry him to join your kingdoms, and that way there would be no reason for any type of betrayal.
You hated the idea. You fought it with everything that you had. The vampires disgusted you with their lust for blood and their strange habits. It was the worst thing you thought could happen.
But your father was right, it was the only choice your kingdom had left, and you had a duty to the people.
With that realization, is how you find yourself under this gorgeous oak tree in the middle of the night. The stars and moon and a few scattered candles are the only light to be found in this open field.
“Welcome one and all, witnesses to both His Highness the King and ______, princess of the human kingdom to our South, as they pledge their dedication to walk the night together. From the night we come, to the night we go, Cursed or blessed to walk the moonlight alone.”
The wedding dress that is chosen for you to wear is dark crimson, a bloody reminder of just who exactly is standing before you. With full lace skirts that drag against the ground, it’s light, airy even. It feels incredibly soft against your skin as your finger tips brush against the fabric but none of that matters as you still feel like you’re suffocating. It’s the absolute opposite of the dress you imagined yourself wearing on your wedding day but it is tradition here in the vampire kingdom for the bride to wear red.
“Sometimes another soul walks our path, Then two become one, in love everlasting. Come forward, Children of the Blood, And welcome this couple to your brood, Within each other, these two are found, Bear witness as their souls are bound.”
The hardest part of this is that it needs to be believable, and at the same time, the subjects from both kingdoms wanted you and the king to hate each other. So the wedding had to be done with official vows, ones that made it sound like the two of you were in love. It makes your stomach churn as the priest continues to speak.
“Please bring your left wrists forward towards me.” The priest said with a soft smile. Though it was gentle, his fangs are still visible, sending a shiver down your spine.
He takes out a red sash from his pocket and gently ties it around both of your wrists, Jungkook’s cold skin brushes against yours and makes you jump slightly. Though it’s as cold as stone, it’s also as soft as cashmere.
Finally, you allow yourself to look up at the man standing next to you.
You hate that he is so beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful being you have ever seen. Soft, thick, black hair slightly smoothed back away from his forehead, eyes almost as black as his tresses and lips that were sharp and hued pink.
When he catches you staring for a bit too long, he merely smirks and turns his attention to you.
“Sorry.” The king mouths to you, no sound coming from his mouth. You look back towards the priest quickly. He holds out a golden goblet beneath your bound wrists.
“Stand now as ye will stand forever, Like this crimson cloth your hearts are tethered, This goblet's contents are your symbols of devotion, So take the rings from the Goblet.”
Your hand shakes violently as you reach into the cup to retrieve the silver band that is to be placed on Jungkook’s right finger. You swallow thickly as you toy with the silver band in between your fingers, your pulse quickening because you know that not only can Jungkook hear the beating sounds of your heart, but all the other vampires present as well. Jungkook does the same with your wedding ring but with more confidence in his motions.
The ring he holds for you is a silver band as well, but it also contains a dark shaded ruby, cut into the shape of a blood drop or possibly a tear in the case of this marriage. But even then, it was stunning.
“______, please repeat these vows after me:
I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.”
These vows had been written hundreds of years ago, meant for two vampires binding themselves together…not a vampire king and someone like you who is so very human. But you say them anyway, your heart still hammering in your chest as you turn your body towards the king and take his hand into yours, noticing just how soft his hands are before you slip the ring onto his awaiting finger.
“I will stand by your side, hunt at your back…” You pause when your voice shakes for a moment, “and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.”
You place the ring onto his finger and release the breath you have been holding the entire time. Jungkook smiles and takes your hand into his.
“King Jungkook, please repeat the vows to your bride.”
Jungkook waits a moment for you to look up at him, his eyes hold yours and his thumb rubs gently over the back of your hand. You wish you could pull it away…even more, you wish you wanted to pull it away.
“I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.” His voice is alluring and even, as if he isn’t nervous about this at all. He slides the ring down your finger and lets it sit perfectly against your warm skin.
The priest hands the goblet to one of his assistants and turns back to the two of you after you’ve both finished.
“Above you are the stars, below you are the stones. As time passes, remember, like the star should your love burn brightly, like the stone should your love be firm. Be close, yet not so close that you restrict one another. Possess one another, yet grant each other the freedom to grow. Be understanding and compassionate, and have patience with each other, for storms may come, but they will quickly pass. Be free in giving affection and warmth. Fear not, lest the ways or words of the unenlightened give you unease.” He clasps his hands over your joined ones before he finishes the last part of the ceremony.
“As both your arms and the cloth form the symbol of eternity, may your love endure through this life and all others. As the Gods and the old ones are witness, with those of us present now, I proclaim them Husband and Wife, and thus are they bonded in Blood. The Two are now one. I present to you the Blood King Jungkook and Queen ______ forever bound, eternally free! You are husband and wife for all eternity. You may now kiss each other to seal your eternal bond of love.” The priest opens his arms and presents the two of you to the guests.
A kiss…was it necessary? Would they believe you if you didn’t kiss him? Would he be able to resist biting you? Would he taste of blood on his lips? So many thoughts plagued your mind in the moments before he cupped your cheek and tilts your face towards his.
“It’s just a kiss.” Jungkook whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion at his gentle touch.
“One kiss.” You step forward and wrap the arm holding your bouquet behind his back as he leans down to mold his lips against yours.
You weren’t expecting the softness of them, assuming that their appearance would be deceiving. His cool hand on your cheek brings you just the slightest bit closer as your lips brush over his once…twice…three times before your brain catches up with you and you remember who you are kissing.
There are whispers amongst the wedding guests who watch the scene unfold in front of them. Some with disgust. Some with curiosity. However even with the divided opinions in the crowd, they all share the same opinionated attitude. You try to ignore them as best you can.
Your lips separate from his a little too quickly and your hand immediately flies up to cover your mouth and the gasp that escapes you. Jungkook smiles, a flash of fangs when his lips pull back, and gently touches the veil hanging from your head and cascading over your shoulders. He takes your free hand in his and turns you both towards the guests, who clap but don’t seem to be pleased.
“And now the crowns.” The priest turns back to his assistants and picks up the crown that belongs to Jungkook first. The king bends slightly at the waist and the crown is placed gently atop his head.
The crown looks too perfect on him, black and silver metal twisted into spikes with small red gems at the base. It’s as if he has always worn one, perfectly designed with Jungkook in mind. And maybe he has, you don’t know how long he’s been the king after all.
You hadn’t actually seen your crown until this moment. The priest picks it up from a black silk pillow and presents it to you to observe. Like Jungkooks, it too is also made from black and silver metal twisted into even more dramatic spikes. Large, jagged diamonds and rubies cover it in its entirety. It looks ridiculously heavy, and when the priest places it on your head, you find your assumption to be correct. Heavy and cold.
From somewhere nearby, horns and trumpets start to play, signaling the end of the ceremony. Jungkook takes your hand again, and the two of you make your way back down the makeshift aisle your father had nervously walked you down less than an hour ago, and already things feel so different.
You’re quickly whisked away by carriage. The space inside doesn’t feel big enough, you can’t get far enough away from him, but he simply stays on his side of the bench seat and doesn’t move towards you on the ride back to the castle.
Once you’ve arrived, you’re met at the doors by Jungkook's advisor, Namjoon, who you had met a few times beforehand during meetings with Jungkook and your father. He has a kind face, gentle like he could do no harm, but that did not change the fact that he is a still a vampire. Standing next to him is the Captain of the vampire kingdom's army, Yoongi. You had also met him previously, but he doesn’t speak much unless it’s to Jungkook regarding the royal army.
“Did everything go accordingly?” Namjoon asks as the two of you ascend the stairs to the castle.
“It was my wedding, Namjoon, not a transaction.” Jungkook moved to the side and motioned with his hand for you to walk ahead of him through the doors.
“Is that not exactly what this is?” You hear Namjoon say just before you’re inside, Jungkook sighing as he follows.
“He’s right.” You grumble.
“Beg your pardon?” Jungkook says from beside you, his hands clasped behind his back as the two of you walk towards the great hall where the celebration and dinner is being held.
“It wasn’t a real wedding. It’s part of a bargain.” You stop to face him and he does the same, looking at you bewildered.
“Perhaps the circumstances aren’t ideal, but the wedding was real, my queen.” He bows to you, and you’re sure the scowl on your face is as deep as they come.
“Let’s get this night over with.” You grab the skirt of your dress in your fists and begin stomping off towards the great hall. You can hear Jungkook laugh quietly, but you choose to ignore him.
You’re forced to mingle, your hand wrapped through Jungkook's arm as the two of you make rounds through the room. You absolutely despise the whole experience. But soon enough, you’re thankfully seated at the head table and wine is poured into your cup.
You notice that yours and your parents' place settings are the only ones with plates. But of course they would be, no one else in this damned kingdom eats food.
Downing the first glass of wine in one gulp, you signal for an attendant to bring you another one. You can feel Jungkook's eyes on you as you down one glass after another, unable to bring yourself to care about what he could possibly be thinking.
“Do you want any?” You finally ask him after your third glass. A very unladylike hiccup following.
“I think you know the answer to that question already, my queen.” He smiles softly but his jaw is tight with annoyance.
“I’m not your queen.” You say a little too loudly. Some of the guests begin turning their attention to you.
“You have every right to be angry, _____.” Jungkook tries to say under his breath, but you scoff loudly, reaching for the bottle of wine and rudely snatching it from the attendant.
“Angry? That does not even begin to cover it. I am outraged.” You take a swig from the bottle and laugh bitterly. “I am disgusted…and I am not your queen. You and your people are just…fucking vile.” You look up from the bottle of wine to see a look of horror on your father’s face from where he sits at the next table. You know you’ve said too much. You’ve been cruel. “Jungkook…” You start to correct yourself but he cuts you off by standing up from his chair with so much force that it flies back against the wall, causing the guests to look up and stare.
“One thing you are not going to do is insult my people. You can say all the terrible things you want about me, but not them. Not when they’ve given up so much so that your people can live.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you to your feet. “Let’s go.”
“Let go of me.” You try to pull your wrist away, but it’s no use against his inhuman strength. “Release me this instant!” Jungkook continues to pull you towards the door, your legs wobbly from wine and the heels on your feet.
“The evening is over. You need to sleep it off.” He pushes open the door and drags you into the dimly lit hallway.
“I am not sleeping with you!” Even though it’s futile, you scratch and pull at the sleeve of his embroidered jacket.
“As if I’d expect that of you.” Jungkook scoffs and swings you around to face him. He maneuvers your body until you’re pressed against the wall with your arms above your head, one of his hands pinning your wrists there.
“Let go!” You try to kick at him but he dodges every time.
“Whether you like it or not, my queen, this is your home now and these are your people. I have and will continue to do what’s best for everyone involved, including you.” His eyes are almost pitch black, a deep red threatening to spill into the iris’ as he speaks through his clenched teeth.
You must stop forgetting that Jungkook is a monster.
“You know nothing of what’s best for me.” You begin moving to spit in his face, but he knows what you are about to do before you have even finished the thought. His free hand comes up to cover your mouth, leaving you to glare at him without being able to talk.
“Listen carefully, my queen.” The grip on your wrists tightens slightly. “You are not the only one making sacrifices around here. So when you decide you want to act like royalty and not some drunken heathen, by all means come to me.” You jerk around in his hold, you just want him to get the hell away from you. He seems to understand your request as he slowly takes his hand away from your mouth.
“I fear you’ll be waiting a very long time, your highness. Possibly until my death, but I’m sure you’ll find that day ever so joyous.” You use your body weight to push at him once more and he finally releases you, but stays in close vicinity.
“Don’t assume you know anything about what I find joyous.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder towards the guards who are standing near the doorway to the hall. “Escort her majesty to her chambers, she’s not to leave them for the night.” Jungkook straightens his shirt and jacket, and begins making his way back towards the dinner hall.
“You can’t just lock me away! Do you hear me?” One of the guards motions for you to walk towards the opposite hallway.
“No more talking tonight. Go to sleep.” Jungkook says over his shoulder before he disappears into the dinner hall. You scoff loudly, taking off walking as fast as your drunken legs will allow you to go.
“Stupid, ignorant, pig headed blood sucker.” You grumble under your breath as you continue down the hallway. The dim lighting from the candles doesn’t allow you to see much, but you can see there is art on the walls that you would rather enjoy if you were not so pissed off. And if they did not belong to the most ridiculous man you had ever met.
The guards lead you to a winding staircase where you quickly find out that in your drunken state you are unable to climb them unassisted. At the top of the first set of stairs they split, one set going left and the other going right. The guards gesture for you to head to the left.
“And where does the right go?” You ask with a hiccup.
“To the king's chambers.” One of them replies. Jungkook had not been lying, he really had prepared your very own chambers. You reach the doors to your bedroom soon after.
One of the guards opens the door for you to enter the room. You cross your arms over your chest and practically stomp inside, turning around to face them.
“Your king is sadly mistaken if he thinks he can lock me up for the rest of my life. I’d rather die.” You aren’t sure what you expect them to say, but they merely bow before shutting the door.
As soon as it clicks shut, you grab the skirt of your dress into your hands and begin ripping the fabric apart, tossing the pieces around the room.
“Stupid, ridiculous, hideous dress.” You screech, grabbing the sleeves at the shoulders and ripping them apart too. You bend down to grab the heels off your feet, stumbling around before yanking them off and chucking them as far away from you as possible.
Your chest heaves with short breaths as you feel yourself burning with rage. Reaching up into your hair, you hastily pull out as many of the pins holding it into place as you can. You start to walk towards the wardrobe when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the far wall. You look like a forest witch. And not the good kind.
Changing your mind about finding other clothes, you begin to notice that there isn’t much in your room. A few vases with fresh flowers and a bed with soft, silky white sheets. There’s a white fur rug at the foot of it and a very large trunk atop that. There’s also a small fireplace in the corner with a few small logs in a basket nearby. The room was otherwise quite empty.
Looking through another set of double doors, you find the washroom. There’s a claw foot tub in one corner with several shelves of soaps and oils on the wall behind it.
As badly as you want to bathe, you need to find ways to protect yourself. Weapons. You need to learn the layout of the castle so that you know where all the exits are at all times. And you also need to find some food. Food in a castle full of creatures who don’t eat it. You sigh loudly, almost tripping over some pieces of your skirt on the marble floor.
Looking down at what's left of your wedding dress on your body is almost laughable. It’s mostly just the bodice and a few pieces covering your lower region in a tattered disarray. You cannot bring yourself to care, this dress was a mistake. It was all a mistake.
You walk out onto the balcony and see a ledge that looks just big enough for you to make your way over to the next room. Wasting no time, you swing your leg over the side, feeling a bit dizzy and suddenly remembering that you’re still quite drunk. But there is no time to sober up now, you have missions to complete.
Still barefoot, you balance onto the ledge and carefully side step your way along the stone. It's only about ten feet from your balcony to the next one.
You get a little too ahead of yourself and almost slip just once, but manage to climb over the railing of the next balcony successfully. You slink over to the window and peer inside, seeing what appears to be an empty guest room. Trying the handle for the doors, you’re overly pleased to find that they are unlocked.
Once inside, you press yourself against the wall and move towards the bedroom door. You pray that once you open it, there will be no vampire guards waiting for you. You have yet to secure a weapon and this might be your only chance to do so when so many of the castle's occupants are still at your wedding reception.
Slowly, you open the door, poking your head outside to see the guards are still occupied with watching over your bedroom door. You silently thank the gods, tip toeing into the hall, you're able to make a mad dash as soon as you’ve rounded the corner and gotten out of the guards sight.
You run until you find the winding staircase that you had come upstairs on. Its familiar shape lets you know that you’re going the right way. Eyes darting from side to side, you descend the stairs, making sure there are no vampires lurking about in the halls.
With absolutely no idea where you are going, you take the hallway to the left, and to your surprise, you smell food. The scent gets stronger and more distinct the further you travel down the hallway. You notice a swinging door, the sounds of clanging pans and a soft voice coming from inside. You brave a peek inside the small round window on the door, the person inside has their back to you for a moment, but when they turn around to face you, you almost cry.
Hoseok.
You shove open the swinging door with all your might, jumping onto a very unsuspecting Hoseok, who screams bloody murder at the sight of you. He almost falls backwards, but catches himself on the corner of the counter.
“Get off of me, witch!” Hoseok yells, reaching for a frying pan in hopes to knock out the creature currently hugging his torso.
“Oh, Hoseok, I’m so happy to see you.” You cry into his chef's coat.
“______? Is that really you?” He grabs your shoulders and moves you back to get a look at you. “My god, it really is you. What the hell happened to you?” He picks up a piece of your dress from the floor that must've fallen off in your rush to get to him.
“How are you here? Why?” You sniffle, tears streaming down your face.
“The king asked me to come stay here and be your chef…since you know, they don’t eat food and you do.” Hoseok pats the top of your head affectionately.
Hoseok is your closest friend. You had grown up together back in your father’s kingdom. His mother had been a long time servant of your parents, the most loyal that you could ask for. Hoseok had inherited that particular trait from her. He began cooking as you got older and soon became one of the best chefs in your kingdom. You were very surprised when you heard your father was so willing to let him go.
“My father let you come? Who will make him those banana pancakes he loves so much?” You laugh, wiping your face so you can get a better look at him, making sure that he’s really here in front of you.
“No, not your father, I meant King Jungkook. He apparently gave your father a rather large sum to make sure that I came here to cook for you.” Hoseok shrugs his shoulders and smiles widely.
“Why would he do that?” You hiss.
“I don’t know, _____. Maybe he just wanted you to be comfortable here.” Hoseok gives you another small hug, then moves around you to continue what he was working on before.
“I find that hard to believe.” You scoff.
“Do you want to explain why the hell you look like a swamp witch?” Hoseok is packaging some food and placing it into the cold room that was filled with ice.
“I…may have gotten drunk at the reception…and got sent to my rooms like a child. And I may have thrown a fit of rage about it.” You plop yourself down on a wooden stool in the corner of the kitchen. You learned a long time ago not to get in his way when he was working.
“You? Throw a fit? Could not imagine such a thing.” He laughs before closing the door to the cold room. “So you haven’t eaten?”
“No. I’m starving Hoseok, please make me food.” You whine to your friend and he rolls his eyes in response.
“You’re lucky I don’t beat you with this plate of food. I made this damn dinner for the reception and they brought your plate back to me untouched? You’re on thin ice my friend.” Hoseok pulls a plate of food from the oven that he had been keeping warm there and sits it in front of you.
“Have I ever told you that I love you?” You don’t bother waiting for him to hand you any utensils as you grab the food with your hands, dismissing the fact that it’s too hot to be eating. You’re too hungry to care.
“One day in the vampire kingdom and you’ve already lost your mind.” Hoseok places a fork beside your plate, but still, you ignore it.
“Do you have knives in here?” Your face lights up, looking around the kitchen.
“I’m a little hesitant to give you any sharp objects right now _____.” Hoseok looks at you with concern reaching his face.
“It’s for protection, Hobi. We’re the only two humans for miles, aren’t you a bit concerned about that?” Your mouth is half full of food as you speak and Hoseok looks disgusted as you stand up and start rifling through his kitchen.
“Of course it’s a little…unsettling. But the king isn’t going to let anything happen to us. Especially you.” Hobi walks behind you, picking things up as you make a mess. You scoff at the last part.
“He cares about me as much as I care about him, which is not at all.” You finally find the drawer that holds the kitchen knives. “Finally! Why didn’t you tell me where they were?”
“Because I think you’re slightly insane.” He puts his hands up in front of him in surrender when you turn around to face him, knife in hand.
“I’m not insane. I’m being…prepared.” You close the drawer and move back towards the kitchen door, peaking out into the hallway through the circular window. You don’t see any movement.
You aren’t sure where to keep this knife if you finally managed to get your hands on, looking around the kitchen for something to use.
“Here, just use this.” Hoseok sighs, handing you a long leather string. “Wrap it around your thigh, that's what all the female warriors do.”
Looking at Hobi inquisitively, wondering how he could possibly know that bot of information, you take the string from his hand and wrap it around your thigh until you can tie it. You’re able to secure the knife between the leather well enough for now.
“Do you even know how to kill a vampire, ____? Is a knife even going to work?” Hoseok crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at you.
“Father told me once that you have to remove their heads.” You don’t look at him, just continue looking into the hallway.
“And a kitchen knife is going to remove a vampire's head!? I’m going to pretend you didn’t get that from me if anyone asks.” Hoseok motions towards your knife with his head before he goes back to cleaning up the mess you had left in your wake.
“I’m going to go look around some more. I’ll come find you later.” You look at him now, as he picks things up off the floor.
“Please don’t.” He teases, crossing the small kitchen to stand in front of you. “Be careful roaming around this castle.”
“I’ll be fine, Hobi.” You wrap an arm around him and he does the same to you, giving each other a much needed hug. He kisses the top of your head before he lets you go.
“Go on then, Blood Queen. I’ll bring you your breakfast in the morning.” He shoos you away.
“Do not call me that.” You glare at your friend. “Eggs and lots of coffee?”
“As you wish.” He rolls his eyes again and you can’t help but smile.
Pushing open the swinging door, you carefully step out into the hallway, keeping your back pressed to the wall as you follow it through the castle.
There isn’t much to see. Some extra bedrooms, one room that looked like a study and one door that had led to a small patio. You mentally mapped that door in your head and hoped you could remember it well enough to write down when you got back to your rooms.
As you approached the end of the hallway you began to hear voices. You knew you should turn around but your curiosity was too much to battle with. So instead, you made your way to the double doors that had been left slightly ajar.
Inside, the room was full of vampires seated at a very long table. Jungkook is sitting at the head of it, his fingers adorned by silver rings, stroking his chin with worry. You aren’t sure how you know that he’s worried, but you just know. Namjoon paces the floor behind him, babbling to no one in particular it seemed. Yoongi, who is sitting to his right, still appears to be his quiet and stoic self. Not much different to how you saw him for the first time.
There are several others present around the table that you do not recognize. But the real question is why are they here instead of attending the wedding reception?
“Is this a threat we need to be prepared for sooner rather than later?” You finally hear Yoongi say, his voice deep and rumbly.
“We knew taking on the human kingdom was going to cause issues with Taehyung. Because not only did you agree to help them, you married the fucking princess.” Namjoon says, distaste thick in his voice.
“They required protection. This was how we gave them that.” Jungkook doesn’t bother looking up, he merely sits back in his chair and crosses his legs.
“At what cost? Why are we paying for their ignorance?” Namjoon continues to pace the floor behind Jungkook's chair.
It surprises you how Jungkook continues to defend your kingdom when he clearly did not have much reason to. It isn’t as if you had married him on happy terms. The only thing he is really getting out of this arrangement is land, and it isn’t like there is much of it to give in the first place. You’ve been so angry that you really had never taken the time to consider that.
“Excuse me for a moment.” Jungkook says, abruptly standing up from his chair.
You feel panic rise up as you notice that he’s heading towards the door that you’re still standing in front of. You look around the hall frantically, seeing a large statue in the corner to your left.
You dash towards it, trying to keep the sound of your bare feet padding across the marble floor as quiet as possible. You hear the door creak open all the way as you fling yourself behind the statue, flopping against the ground with a thud.
“Shit. Shit that hurts.” You whisper, trying to right yourself into a sitting position.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have the mouth of a sailor?” Jungkook is suddenly standing above you, making you jump with fright, banging your head against the statue that had apparently done nothing to hide you from him.
“Has anyone ever told you that it’s rude to just appear out of nowhere like a damn ghost?” You rub the back of your head and manage to get to your feet to stand in front of him. Jungkook scoffs, trying to hold back a laugh.
“What in the world have you done to your dress?” He asks, reaching towards your torn up skirt. Before he can touch them you slap his hand away, making your hand sting at the contact.
“I had a moment. Not that it’s any of your business.” You attempt to smooth out what’s left of the skirts at your waist.
“You look like a swamp witch.” Jungkook can’t help the smile that graces his face and you want to slap it away for being so beautiful.
“I do not!” You shove past him, stomping back down the hallway where you had come from.
“Would you please stop for a moment?” Jungkook calls after you.
“I will not.” You refuse to give him any further satisfaction. He does not seem to take the hint, his footsteps following after you.
You’ve had enough of him for one night. You reach into the band you had made and wrapped around your thigh to hold onto the kitchen knife you had gotten from the kitchen, spinning around and pointing the sharp end of the blade right at Jungkook’s throat, making him stop in his tracks in front of you.
“Where did you get a knife?” Jungkook dares to ask, an eyebrow raised in question.
“That is also none of your business.” You move the knife so close to his throat that the slightest movement could make you cut him.
“Were you keeping that knife strapped to your thigh?” Jungkook's voice lowers as he slowly raises his hands in surrender. You choose not to answer him, only stiffening your stance. “Incredibly violent…” Jungkook smiles and his fangs extend slightly, making you feel bewildered at his reaction.
“Why are you smiling?” You poke the tip of the knife against his skin.
“Because I like that you’re beautifully murderous.” Jungkook is suddenly out of your sight, making you whirl around to find him, only to be pressed roughly against the wall, the hand holding the knife anchored above your head.
“Get off of me!” You move to knee him in the groin but he’s too fast. Inhumanly fast.
“I want you to be a part of this, you know. I want you to help us help your people.” His grip tightens slightly the more you move around.
“Why?” You seethe.
“Because you’re the queen. My partner in this life. Why is that so hard for you to understand?” The look on his face is so sincere that it makes you halt your movements.
“Jungkook…this is not a real marriage. Why are you so convinced that it is?” With one last push, he releases you and takes a step back.
“I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to make you see that it is.” Jungkook tells you with a quiet sigh. “But for the time being, please just come inside and listen to what we’re speaking about. You should be a part of it too.”
You feel the tiniest sliver of hatred melt away from your heart. It makes your chest feel lighter, like you can breathe a little easier. You don’t understand it. You don’t understand him. But you can’t deny that you want to know what’s going on in that meeting room.
“Fine. Let’s go.” You rip your eyes away from his face before it becomes too noticeable that you were looking at him at all.
“Do you perhaps want to change first?” Jungkook asks. “The dress has become rather revealing.”
You glare at him before propping your foot up against the wall, exposing your bare leg to him. You slide the kitchen knife back into the homemade holster on your thigh, adjusting it slightly and letting your foot slip back to the ground as you keep direct eye contact with the vampire king.
“No. I think I’ll attend the meeting just as I am.” You can’t help but smirk a little, pointing your nose to the ceiling before making your way into the meeting room. Jungkook laughs quietly in disbelief, but follows you inside.
All the eyes in the room are suddenly on you. One of the men sitting at the table visibly chokes on air as he watches you walk into the room and takes in your appearance.
“I suggest you get yourself together, Seokjin.” Jungkook walks ahead of you to pull out the chair to the left of his for you.
“Apologies, your highness.” The man named Seokjin splutters slightly, then straightens in his chair.
“Were you attacked, my lady?” Yoongi says, his voice low but still holding a bit of concern.
“No…I was…it's nothing. Don’t let my clothing distract you from the discussion.” You move around the table, choosing to ignore the chair Jungkook has pulled out for you, but instead decide to move to his chair at the head of the table and sit down there. “Shall we?” You ask, a smug look on your face.
“Incredible.” You hear Jungkook mumble under his breath, only meaning for you to hear it, but obviously all the other vampire ears in the room do as well, making everyone shift uncomfortably in their seats.
“Does the queen need to be present?” Namjoon remarks from the seat next to Yoongi.
“Yes, she does. And I won’t hear another thing about it.” Jungkook makes his point clear and moves to sit in the chair he had originally pulled out for you.
“Fine then. We need to start preparing for a war with Taehyung. And we also need to consider that in order to avoid it, we should give up the human kingdom. We don’t need it.” Namjoon is very monotone as he speaks about giving up your kingdom to an apparent enemy.
“Absolutely not.” You say without thought.
“No disrespect, your highness, but I was speaking to the king.” Namjoon dismisses you and you can feel anger start to bubble beneath your skin.
“You say that you mean no disrespect, but you’re sitting there suggesting that we turn over my kingdom, full of innocent people, to your enemy.” You lean forward in your seat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you look at the king's advisor.
“I’m not sure you understand the ramifications of going to war with Taehyung, your majesty. He is not to be underestimated.” Namjoon leans forward as well, meeting your gaze with a challenge in his eyes.
“Perhaps someone could explain to me who Taehyung is, and how he has become such a threat to the most powerful kingdom in this realm?” You don’t let your gaze fall from Namjoon’s, challenging him right back.
“If you two are finished with your vicious little disagreement you’ve got going, I would be honored to get the queen up to speed on the situation.” Seokjin says from a few chairs down. His voice makes you look away from Namjoon with a scowl on your face.
“Please. Tell me what you know.” You give Seokjin your attention, ignoring the mumbled curses Namjoon says under his breath.
“Taehyung is the king of the werewolf kingdom to our west, your highness. And I…well I know more than most about werewolves as I myself am one of them.” Seokjin looks up at you then, a golden glow flashing across his eyes when they meet yours.
“I’m confused. If you’re one of them, what are you doing here?” Your curiosity is peaked at this very unexpected bit of information.
“Well you see, my lady, I owe my life to your king. Many, many years ago he had mercy on me and I have pledged my loyalty to him until my dying day.” A smile plays at the corner of Seokjin’s mouth as he looks from you to Jungkook, who also shares the same smile of fondness on his face.
“He saved your life?” You ask, enthralled by this story. A vampire saving the life of a werewolf is unheard of, the two of them becoming friends is even more unheard of.
“He did. And now he has me at his side, even if he wishes I wasn’t at times.” He laughs a little and Jungkook’s smile grows wider.
“You’re too humble sometimes, hyung.” Jungkook says, sharing one last fond smile with Seokjin before he looks back at you. “Seokjin is vital to the way this kingdom is able to live and operate on a daily basis. Don’t let him talk lowly of himself.”
You wish their story wasn’t so endearing. That you didn’t feel a pang of something in your heart for the fondness they share for each other. But no matter how hard you try to bite back your smile, it betrays you, pulling your lips up slightly.
“I am happy to meet you, Seokjin.” You say, sharing one more look with him before the moment is interrupted.
“Could we get back to the point?” Namjoon says, obviously annoyed by the friendly conversation. Why was he so frumpy?
“Of course. My apologies.” Seokjin sits back in his chair with a small bow of his head.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a sour puss?” You say to Namjoon, almost causing Yoongi to choke on a laugh.
“My lady, this is not a joke. If you’re insistent on being involved, I beg you to take this seriously.” If Namjoon could blush, you suppose he would be at this point.
“I’m listening.” You roll your eyes a bit and turn to Jungkook, who is watching you with a smirk on his face.
“Taehyung isn’t happy about this…union. He believes your land should be his and we are almost positive he isn’t going to sit back and let it go.” Yoongi takes the initiative to explain this time.
“And for now, as I’ve said before, we double the guard at the border but we don’t engage. I’m not starting a war without reason.” Jungkook speaks now, everybody forwarding their attention to him. “And perhaps we need to set up a meeting with Taehyung.”
“A meeting? What do you hope to come of that, your majesty?” Namjoon looks with disbelief on his face.
“I’m avoiding a war at all costs. I won’t bring unnecessary danger to either of the kingdoms.” Jungkook stands up. “And this discussion is over for now. I’m sure the queen would like to sleep.” You nod, quickly being able to tell that Jungkook is done talking for tonight.
You stand from the table, bowing to the others who stand at the same time as you do to bow deeper in your direction. Jungkook motions for you to walk ahead of him with his hand as you take one last look over your shoulder at the men sitting at the table. More monsters than men…but it was easy to forget such a thing.
“I’m glad you joined us.” Jungkook's voice startles you from your thinking.
“Yes well…I won’t let anything happen to my people. We can’t just throw them to the wolves.” You hope he detects the seriousness in your voice.
“I hope that you can see that isn’t my intention. It never was.” Jungkook walks next to you, his arms crossed behind his back.
“As long as that is clear.” You reach the bottom of the stairs that lead up to your separate bed chambers, stopping on the bottom step and turn to look at Jungkook.
“Loud and clear, my queen.” Jungkook steps up closer and you almost trip over the step trying to create space. “Where is the knife now?”
“It will be in your chest if you do not step away from me.” You growl through your teeth, making Jungkook grin wickedly, fangs appearing under his lip.
“Beautiful and violent. Where have you been all my life, darling?” Jungkook steps up onto the stairs, making you stumble up a few more to get distance.
“You’re some kind of masochist, aren’t you?” You put your hand down onto the handle of the knife. Jungkook throws his head back in laughter. The sound is…certainly not what you expected. He seems so human as he laughs and tries to compose himself.
“Would you like to find out?” He takes one more step up towards you and you’ve had enough.
You lift your bare foot from the wooden stair and press it into the middle of his chest as he stands two steps down from you. You watch Jungkook's eyes as they take in what is happening, roaming over the exposed skin of your legs and thigh.
“Stop flirting with me.” You push slightly against his chest with your foot. “It’s very annoying.”
“Your heart is beating so quick, I’m not sure that you mean that.” Jungkook says in a low tone. The sound of his deep voice tries to pry its way between your thighs, but you won’t let it. “I think you rather like it, actually.”
“You’re not amusing, your highness.” You try to remain unfazed.
“You can’t lie to me. I can hear the blood rushing through your veins…and your breath struggling to even out.” Jungkook tries to take a step up but you push him back down with your foot.
“You’re delusional. Whatever you are hearing is simply because I am fending off a vampire, not because I find that vampire to be maddeningly beautiful.” You wish you had said that differently…surely he will know you’re lying now.
“Why do you fight it?” He questions.
“Fight what?”
“The attraction between us.”
“Because there isn’t any. None. It is nonexistent.” You shove your foot into his chest once more but he doesn’t budge of course.
“Liar.” Jungkook says quietly, you can feel his breath on the skin of your leg. His cool fingers come up to ghost over the skin of your ankle, allowing goosebumps to find home on your skin as your body betrays you even more. “Shall we test your theory?” Fingers continue their featherlight touch up your calf.
“You’re…it’s not affecting me at all.” Your voice shakes slightly as you fight to keep your eyes open.
“More lies, my queen.” When his fingers get to the inside of your thigh, your brain suddenly remembers what’s happening. You kick him in the chest with more force and Jungkook stumbles slightly, giving you a chance to jog up a few more stairs before you speak to him again.
“No more of your unrequited flirting. And especially touching. None of that.” You yell down to him, wishing you could smack the grin on his face.
“As you wish.” He bows to you.
“Goodnight, your highness.” You pull the knife out of your holster and point it towards him as you back your way up the rest of the stairs, making Jungkook laugh out loud again. You don’t look back this time as you dash your way down the hall to your bed chambers where the two guards are still standing. “I’ll be going to bed now.” You huff past them and into the room as quickly as possible.
You press your back against the cool wood of the door, trying to catch the breath you had not realized were holding . He was absolutely infuriating. Ridiculous. Egotistical. And yet… soft and endearing at times. Like when he was speaking to or about Seokjin. It is something you never expected to see.
Looking down at your hand, you see the wedding ring he had given you just a few short hours ago. Shaped like a drop of blood and every bit the color of it. You had forgotten all about it and now you aren’t sure you wanted to take it off. You and this ring have been through a lot already.
Finally, you bring yourself to move towards one of the tall armoires on the other side of the room. Perhaps it’s time to finally change out of your tattered wedding dress.
You look through some drawers until you finally find some silky night shorts and matching camisole. It seems revealing for pajamas, but you also don’t have the energy to keep digging for something else.
With a sigh, you head into the bathroom and make a beeline for that glorious claw foot tub in the corner of the room. You look around and notice the gold crusted faucets at one end of the tub.
Running water. The vampire kingdom had running water for baths. This was not a luxury that you had back in your human kingdom.
“Something decent has come from this.” You mumble to yourself as you turn on the faucets and watch the crystal clear water start to fill the basin of the tub. You grab one of the first glass bottles of soap that you can reach, breathing in its scent and finding it to be lavender. A scent you missed about the gardens in your father’s kingdom. You pour a plentiful amount into the stream of water and watch the bubbles begin to form and you can’t help but smile.
Stripping out of what’s left of your wedding dress, you toss it away and carefully step into the tub. The water is so warm already, instantly loosening your tired muscles and cleanssng your dirty skin. It felt like heaven.
Once the tub has filled you turn off the faucets and sink down into it. You let your head dip beneath the bubbles, letting it washclean your hair and , making it easier to pull the rest of the pins out of it.
It’s quiet in this washroom. Almost too quiet. So you decide not to dawdledauddle for too long, getting yourself cleaned up and grabbing a robe from one of the hanging hooks on the wall.
Making your way back into your bed chambers, you dress into the pajamas you had found earlier and climb into the bed. You feel alone all at once. Too alone with your thoughts.
How would your life play out now that you’re here? Married. To the king of vampires. Jungkook. The blood king.
You want to know more. Need to know more about him and this place.
In order for you to do that, you have to change your sleeping schedule. You need to be awake at night when everyone else is awake.
It took some time for you to get used to but after a couple of weeks you are able to get up and join the vampires during their meetings regarding Taehyung.
You are also able to explore the castle and its grounds more thoroughly. Finding it full of vast libraries and art from different centuries…different worlds it seemed.
Most recently though, you had discovered the gardens. Gardens that had been somewhat neglected by visitors if you were being honest. They were clean and well kept, but they were mostly empty. Not many flowers and things to fill all the spaces in between the manicured bushes and small trees. You wondered if it was because no one could come out during the day to care for them. And the more you thought about it, the sillier it seemed.
You love walking around outside nonetheless. Sitting on the stone benches and watching the fountains. But your urge to do more is constantly bouncing around in your mind.
Tonight, you find yourself changing into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater. You had decided you were going to start digging around in the gardens, whether it is something a queen should do or not, you didn’t care. It would busy your mind and give you something productive to do.
“Where are you off to?” Hoseok calls behind you as you make your way to the back doors.
“To the gardens. I think I’m going to start digging around. Maybe plant some new things.” You turn to see the bright smile on his face. One of the few bright things here.
“There are groundskeepers for that, you know?” Hoseok teases as he approaches you, taking in your very unqueenly outfit.
“I am aware, Hobi. But I’m bored and I need to find something to occupy my time.” You wave him off with a sigh.
“Do you know where the gardening equipment is?” Hoseok asks, hands moving to his hips as he looks at you expectantly.
“Well…no. But I assume that you do?”
“Perhaps. What’s in it for me?” He continues to tease.
“I’m the queen, you have to tell me if I ask.” Your arms cross over your chest.
“Oh now you want to be the queen? Only when it benefits you, I see.”
“Come on, Hoseok, pleeeeease?” You’re growing tired of his antics.
“Let me use your bathtub twice a week, and I’ll tell you where it is.” He puts his hand out for you to shake.
“As if I would deny you that bathtub.” You laugh a little and shake his hand. “Come on then, to the gardening tools.” You jump onto his back as he turns around to lead the way, making him carry you.
“I don’t remember carrying your spoiled ass around being in my new job description.” Hobi laughs, adjusting you on his back so he can walk with more balance.
“It’s in your best friend job description, check your paperwork.” You place your chin on his shoulder and squeeze your legs tighter around his middle.
“Ridiculous.” He laughs louder, making his way towards the back doors to show you where to find the gardening tools.
Hoseok takes you to a small building outside the castle, inside of which are plenty of gardening tools for you to get started with your plans. He doesn’t stick around though, making his way back to the castle to finally get some sleep. Hobi is having a harder time adjusting to the new sleep schedule than you had.
With your arms full of shovels, rakes, and other tools you may or may not need, you find an area near the fountains that you plan to start with. The dirt in this area seems a bit dry and sad looking, so you think if you dig into the soil, you’ll be able to bring the good dirt to the top.
You spend a few hours tilling the soil and sure enough, it already looks so much better than it did before. And even though autumn is in full swing and you’re working by the light from the moon, you’re still a bit sweaty.
“I think digging your way out of here may be a bigger task than you bargained for.” A now familiar voice says from behind you, making you jump at the sudden sound.
“Will I have to live out the rest of my days here wondering when the next time you’ll give me a heart attack will be?” You place your hand over your hammering heart while Jungkook smiles.
“Apologies, my queen.” Jungkook walks closest to where you’re kneeling on the ground, his hands behind his back. “What is it that you’re doing exactly?”
“I’m gardening. Is that not obvious?” You sit the small shovel down and wipe your hands off on your thighs.
“Yes. But why?” He asks curiously.
“Something to do? A hobby? I’m tired of wandering around this castle like a ghost.” You look up at him when he comes to stand next to you. “Is that something I’m allowed to do, your highness?”
“You’re rather snarky for a queen.” Jungkook smiles again, the sharp points of his fangs showing behind his lips.
“I have been called much worse.” You huff, standing up from the ground, wobbling slightly from being in that position a bit too long.
Jungkook is inhumanly fast, gently steadying you on your feet. One hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder. His skin is so cold it sends a shiver through you, goosebumps covering your warm skin.
“So long as you’re here, no one will dare to call you anything less than you deserve.” His eyes are almost black as they meet yours. “Are you okay to stand?”
You shake away the trance you feel when you look at him, stepping back slightly and out of his hold.
“Yes, I’m fine.” You awkwardly stumble over the shovel on the ground, righting yourself before Jungkook has a chance to try and help you again. “Thank you.”
“Shall I help you with this?” He asks, bending to pick up one of the rakes.
“Oh…that’s not necessary, I can manage.”
“I’m well aware that you can manage. But would you like some help…and some company?”Jungkook almost looks shy as he asks. “I think it would be good for us to spend more time together.”
You aren’t sure what to say. Part of you despises the thought of spending time with him. But a bigger part tells you that you long to know him more. To hear his infuriating tone when he teases you.
“Fine. But you start over there, and don’t crowd me.” You point towards an area a few feet from the one you had been working on. Jungkook laughs quietly.
“As you wish, my queen.” He bows at the waist and makes his way over.
“I’ve asked you several times to stop calling me that.” You sigh, pushing some hair away from your face before you continue tilling the soil.
“Why does it bother you so much?” Jungkook gets down to his knees, the brown slacks he is wearing meeting the dirt.
“I am not a vampire, Jungkook. Being the Blood Queen seems like I’m pretending to be something that I’m not.” It bothers you. All those vows that you took about protecting each other are just lies.
“You don’t need to be a vampire to be the queen here. No matter what you hear or what you think, you only need to try and understand.” Jungkook’s quick hands are making much faster work of things than yours ever could.
“Understand what?” You ask.
“Will you let me show you some time? It will be much easier to show than to try and explain it in so many words.”
You don’t understand what he means, but the look on his face tells you that he’s sincere in what he says. And even though you should probably say no, you’re too curious not to indulge him.
“Okay.” You simply state. Jungkook smiles softly and continues his digging.
Another week passes, and Jungkook joins you out in the gardens every night. He brings you new tools to use and lists from the florists in the kingdom so that you can pick out flowers to plant wherever you please. You choose as many as you can find that grow at night, because though they carry all the usual things that flourish in the day time, you know you won’t get to enjoy them as much as you will the ones who bloom at night.
You spend hours in the many libraries within the castle researching the plants and what they need to live well at night. Jungkook joins you there often, following you through the stacks of books and listening to you babble on and on about the flowers.
As much as you wish you didn't enjoy his company, as much as you don’t want to be fond of the sound of his voice, you are very much beginning to.
“_____?” Jungkook says quietly, closing the book that you’re holding in your hands. He doesn’t call you by your first name often, it’s a strange feeling that follows it.
“What is it?” You slide the book back onto the shelf in front of you, turning your attention to him.
“Would you please do me the honor of accompanying me into the kingdom tomorrow night?” His hands are behind his back as he speaks, stepping closer to where you’re standing.
“May I ask why?” You try to pretend his close proximity does not affect you. Jungkook is still a vampire after all.
“I told you I would help you to understand why being human does not mean you cannot be the queen here.” Jungkook brings a hand from behind his back and reaches out gently, brushing your fingertips with his.
“What are you going to show me, Jungkook?” You slowly pull your hand back from his touch, making him smirk at your stubbornness.
“Everything, darling.”
#jungkook#vampire jungkook#jungkook fic#jungkook x reader#bts fic#bts smut#btscarnivalnet#btscreatorscorner#bangtaninn#bangtansorciere#btshoneyhive#52hertz#btswritersclub#btsdreamcourt#bangtanarmynet#clubzerooclock#btswritingcafe
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22:15 – 정국 (Jungkook)
P: Jungkook x male reader | G: timestamp, smut | Inc: tattooist!Jungkook, sub!Jungkook, dom!reader, petnames, teasing, orgasm denial, Jk's hands being restricted, implied multiple orgasms, filth tbh, I took 'every second, every minute, every hour' and ran with it lmao | Wc: 223 | W: slight D/s dynamic, restriction, orgasm denial,, desc. of pleasure almost being painful (consensually ofc) | R: 18+
Min’s notes: I blame a mf named Jeon Jungkook singing Seven for this ^-^
Sweat drips down Jungkook’s forehead, his head thrown back as he tries to ground himself on y/n’s bed. His head is spinning – how long have the two of them been at this? How long did y/n want to keep this up? All manner of moans and whines slip out of his mouth, only encouraging y/n to keep up his loving torture on Jungkook’s cock. There’s not much Jungkook can do to make it stop; his hands restricted above his head and leaving him exposed and entirely at y/n’s mercy.
“F— fuck, y/n, baby…” The tattooist cries, unable to stop squirming the longer y/n refuses to stop. He’s so close but anymore and Jungkook might just lose his mind. He’s going to start coming dry at this rate. Y/n simply blinks, looking to his boyfriend as his hands just…stop. Jungkook panics, bucking his hips into the younger man’s now still hand, desperately seeking the pleasure that’s keeping him on the edge of pain and holding him there.
“What is it bunny? Do you want me to stop? It is too much for you?” Y/n taunts, tracing circles onto the writhing man’s tip. He huffs, “and here I thought you had stamina~. What was it you said? Every second? Every minute? Every hour?”
Perhaps Jungkook regrets riling y/n up over text.
Perhaps not.
Definitely not.
Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @whipped-kpop-creators, @hybenet, @bangtanarmynet, @btscreatorscorner
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!
Taglist: @teeztheflag, @jeonqquk, @mikailo666, @iiindigocheesecake, @xavi-in-kpopland, @marxenash , @tinystarstay | Taglist form
#Writer Elf Minnie#kwritersworldnet#kdiarynet#ultkpop#wkcnet#hybenet#bangtanarmynet#btscreatorscorner#bts#jeon jungkook#bts smut#jeon jungkook smut#bts x male reader#jungkook x male reader#bts timestamp#jungkook timestamp#bts hard hours#jungkook hard hours
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jeon jungkook bf headcannons
summary :
╰ pairing : none really, just headcanons.
╰ genre : headcanons..
╰ rating : none
╰ warnings : mentions of sex...there’s a whole section for it.
╰ a/n: this is actually a draft that has been sitting here for months. hope u enjoy.
𝘗𝘌𝘙𝘚𝘖𝘕𝘈𝘓 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌
- he works out like crazy & you got really concerned when you first started to date him, but now you’re waking up to make his protien shakes sometimes.
- he takes pride in his skin but he doesn’t really do much. the only thing he spends a lot of money on are sheet masks and toners. you both set at least two days out of the month to give each other facials
- he’s a clean person, but it’s v easy for his surroundings to get a little messy.
- very close with his family--all of them love your relationship.
- he cooks a lot but if he doesn’t want to, he literally won’t.
- he’s a very busy person, but he makes sure to bring back some type of souvenir for you if he goes out of town.
- he love sleeping. i feel like his iron is low, so instead of using the proper suppliments, he’d rather sleep.
- he has a motorcycle! he uses it to take you out at nights to the city.
𝘚𝘌𝘟𝘜𝘈𝘓 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌
- ..honey
- he is a SWITCH. like u can’t tell me he can’t be bottom too.
- but when he is a top, he likes to be very controlling. he wants you to obey him.
- he’s very teasing and uses a little dirty talk.
- i don’t think he has any kinks but maybe a mommy kink? idk.
- aftercare is a must or else he’d feel super bad and think that everything is his fault (giving and recieving)
- he loves eye contact during it.
- definetly in the nights, like whenever he can’t sleep or something.
- missionary. but is very open to trying new positions.
𝘙𝘌𝘎𝘜𝘓𝘈𝘙 𝘊𝘖𝘜𝘗𝘓𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘎𝘚
- he doesn’t like arguing. when you both do argue, it’s more of a “intense conversation” than an argue. if he feels that you guys might end up arguing, he’ll stop talking and wait until the mood is lighter.
- he is very jealous and doesn’t care that he is.
- talking about relationship improvments are a must. honesty is encouraged.
- he is a little sensitive; it’s a little easy to hurt his feelings and get him emotional. but this has made it easier for the two of you to understand each other because of his emotional awareness.
- he’ll try his best to be the best boyfriend ever, which can hurt his self-esteem sometimes if he feels like he isn’t doing enough.
#jungkook#jungkook headcanons#headcanons#bts headcanons#thebtswritersclub#btscreatorscorner#bangtansorciere#bangtanhq#couple#couplegoals#switch
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jump then fall (into you) | teaser
banner by the talented @jimilter 💖
pairing ↠ jungkook x reader
genre ↠ cruise AU, fake dating AU, best friends to lovers AU | fluff, angst, smut
word count ↠ 35k (tbc)
18+ | warnings ↠ swearing, some jealousy, drinking, sexual content (detailed warnings on the final fic)
summary ↠ bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?
a/n. finally after months i feel like im coming back?? i hope this fic turns out to be somewhat decent lol 🙃 please let me know how you find it!
↠ a part of the seven seas collab hosted by the wonderful yannie @ressjeon 🌊🥰
posting date ↠ tbc june ‘23
taglist is open <3
Alex watches quietly as the scene plays out in front of him.
He can’t help but find it amusing how you try to step in and help Jungkook out, subtly trying to protect your best friend from the wiles of Valentina, but to Alex, it seems a little more than that. It’s what he’s been trying to tell you for months now! – Sometimes he wishes you could see everything exactly as he sees it.
Take now for example, all Valentina has done is placed her hand on Jungkook’s arm and your eyes seem to be hyper-fixated on it– oh, and now look, you’re slipping your own hand around his arm.
Jungkook’s and your actions are so transparent to Alex, he just wants to say it out loud right now and make you see it...
Then, the cogs in the brilliant mind of Alexander Cirillo turn and he comes up with what can only be a genius idea. Perhaps it's all the romance he’s been experiencing recently with his own fiancee, but Alex is convinced that this can only have one outcome, the only possible outcome – the one that’s been written in the stars since Jungkook and you met so many years ago, he’s sure of it.
Beaming, Alex looks at Valentina. “Don’t they look so good together?”
She pauses then frowns. “Together?”
Your own expression matches Valentina’s as you glance at Alex too.
“Yes, together,” he repeats as a fact, smiling at Jungkook and you before looking at Valentina.
“You’ve heard, no? Jungkook and Y/N are together.”
From next to you, Jungkook swallows hard and your hand subconsciously tightens around his arm. Both of you are staring at Alex and he just gives you a subtle raise of his brow.
“Oh, my,” Valentina smiles, and although there’s some kind of genuinity to it, there’s more you can see but haven’t got the mental capacity to try to decipher right now when you’re still trying to figure out what Alex is doing.
“I should’ve known this was gonna happen, you always were inseparable,” she says with somewhat of an eye roll.
Jungkook laughs awkwardly, but he’s not stupid and he knows Alex isn’t either. This is one surefire way he can keep Valentina and any of her advances away from him for the next three weeks. All he has to do is pretend to be dating you… how hard can that be?
“Yeah, I guess it was meant to be,” he says, sounding a little stilted.
You’re still sitting a little dumbfounded but Sophia also gives you an expression that tells you to improvise better. The most you can manage is a meek smile.
Jungkook responds almost as awkwardly, putting his arm around you which makes Alex laugh.
“Oh, don’t be so coy,” he says, sneaking in a wink to you as Valentina’s eyes remain locked on you both. “It’s been almost what? Eight months?”
“Uh, yeah, almost,” you answer, suddenly feeling shy with the way Jungkook’s hand is gripping your waist.
It’s not like he’s never had his hand on your waist before — his face was all up in your boobs only fifteen minutes ago — but the feeling remains. It makes your cheeks go warm, your heart races a little faster and your fingers go fuzzy.
You’re sure it’s showing on your face but Valentina doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she must think it’s down to you finding this awkward.
“Well, congratulations to you too then,” she says, wearing a smile that doesn’t actually seem anything less than genuine, but you’re aware there’s more to her words.
“Thank you,” Jungkook and you say in unison.
Valentina nods, taking it as her cue to leave. “I’ll see you all around, and except for the engaged couple who get a pass, let’s keep the pda to a minimum please,” she adds airily, words directed to Jungkook and you as she saunters off.
“Can’t promise anything with these two,” Alex calls out after her.
When he looks back at you, he’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Sophia purses her lips in a smile that resembles a child trying to laugh while they’re getting told off.
Turning to them, you burst. “What the hell was that?” you say hotly, seeming more flustered than anything else.
Alex shrugs. “Sorry, it was the best thing I could think of.”
“It could be worse,” Sofia adds with a smile that’s supposed to be apologetic but the gleam in her eyes tells you she’s finding this just as amusing as her fiancé.
Then, Jungkook shifts from beside you and only now do you realise you’re still holding his arm. “Well,” he says, briefly glancing down as you let go, “I guess we’re dating now.”
With a small raise of your brows, you shrug lightly and try not to show any signs of how flustered you’re feeling. “I guess we are.”
When you meet his gaze, for a second you go still and think of what it means, how might you be expected to act with Jungkook — but really, it doesn’t seem that much different from how you already are now. Except of course, if you ever had to indulge in any public displays of affection, cheek kisses, lingering hugs, maybe even a peck on the lips…
The thought of it all sets loose a swirl of butterflies in your stomach and only then do you realise that your gaze is still locked on Jungkook, and he too, is still staring at you.
With those butterflies still swarming, you abruptly break away from his gaze and notice the tips of his ears are turning pink. You wonder if he’s thinking the same as you right now.
“See, already believable.”
Alex’s voice interrupts your thoughts and when you turn to flare at him, he’s got a smug smirk on his face.
“You’re supposed to be smart,” you say with a sigh, pushing down the butterflies that it almost seems like Alex knows all about. “Couldn’t have come up with something smarter?”
“This is smart,” Alex says with a hint of sass.
“How?” you sass back.
Leaning back, he puts his arm around Sofia as his smirk grows into a smile. “You’ll see, just give it some time,” he sighs, punctuating his sentence with a wink.
a/n. taglist is open! i hope you enjoy the fic when it comes, i’ll keep you updated on the date x please comment/rb if you enjoyed :) <3
#btscreatorscorner#btswritingcafe#ksmutclub#bangtanbathhouse#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook x you#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook#jungkook bf2l#bts fanfic#jungkook friends to lovers#fake dating au
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Wallflower in Bloom
Summary: After three months of no intimate actions as Seokjin's sugar baby, you finally find out what it's like to have him open you up till you bloom.
Pairing: sugar daddy Seokjin x shy university student f!reader
Genre: non-idol au, s2l, sugar daddy
WC: 3.6k
Rating: NSFW, no minors allowed
Warning: sugar daddy Jin, shy and timid sugar baby reader, reader is nicknamed petal by our WWH, reader carries some emotional baggage which isn't mentioned here but will be in future chapters, pwp, grinding, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, dom Jin, begging, multiple orgasms, riding, Seokjin has a third leg obviously, and... i think that's it??
A/N: Starting 2023 with my brain producing the smut scenes in this fic, and somehow I decided to make a series out of it. Hah. This will be the first installment of my Seokjin Sugar Daddy series, The Wallflower Series.
Major thanks to the amazing @moonleeai for beta-ing and brainstorming with me, your appreciation for the smut scenes feeds my ego and makes me extra embarrassed too lol. And also to WaywardSammy for the BEAUTIFUL BANNER. I don't know how you took the picture out of my head and made it into this super pretty artwork.
You take a deep breath as you enter Seokjin’s penthouse. It is not your first time here, but your heart is pounding wildly, remembering the words he whispered into your ears last night.
Tomorrow, my petal, I will ravish and devour you.
You shudder. Your senses have been heightened ever since, and you feel like a taut string on a bow ready to snap.
You have known Seokjin for a few days over three months now, and since the initial meeting when you both agreed to this arrangement, he has been nothing but kind, patient and generous. He told you that the first three months were for you both to get to know each other. You were able to read between the lines, though- it was a test that you needed to pass. So you spent time with him, accompanying him to dinners, fishing trips, and staying at his place while he gamed the whole night till the sun came up. You never asked for anything, you remained quiet and mousy at the events he brought you to, listening to murmurs and gossip and reporting them to him. You learned to fish so you could feed into his competitive streak, and you even tried your hands at gaming; a luxury you never had growing up. And during all these times, he had never touched you, apart from a peck on the cheek when he dropped you off at your place. However, with every notification on your phone of a deposit made into your bank account, you knew when the time came, you would have to be ready for him.
And now, the time has indeed come. Your body feels hot all over as your sugar daddy approaches you. He looks incredibly handsome, and you keep wondering why he would pick you, a plain wallflower, when he could have picked any other beautiful women, even celebrities.
“Petal,” he lands a soft kiss on your cheek, “you look like you’re about to pass out.” He stands so impossibly close to you, enveloping you with his musk, making you feel dizzy with want and lust.
You let out a nervous chuckle. “I am nervous,” you admit, knowing Seokjin values honesty above all. “I’m worried I won’t be good enough.”
“I will be satisfied, and you will be too,” he promises. “Are you wearing the gift I got you?”
You nod. The lingerie sticks to your skin, clammy from all the nerves and anxiety. Seokjin takes your hand and leads you to the sofa. He sits down and pulls you to his lap. Insecurity engulfs you when he wraps his hand around your middle, his fingers digging into the flesh underneath your clothes. You shudder when his fingers travel up your side, touch so fleeting you instinctively turn to him, silently begging for more. His chest rumbles in appreciation once his large hand covers your breast, and once his fingers dig into the supple flesh, your doubts fly away, your mind filled with more need and lust for him.
“So soft,” he whispers, squeezing your breast again. You lean further into him, embarrassed that you are already making a mess between your legs from a single action.
“Been wanting to touch these tits since the day I met you,” his nose nudges your neck, his words slither along your skin. “I’ve thought about them so much, had to control myself these last three months. Do you think about me at all, baby? Hmm?”
Another gush of arousal leaks out onto your panties, you revel at his admission that he thinks of you too. “Yeah,” you pant. You do, you do indeed. You fantasize about him every night, since you started being his sugar baby, wondering what it would be like to finally be intimate with him. Not that you have a lot of references to go with, but from the time you have spent with him, you would like to think he would be more attentive than… no, you’re not going to think about that.
Seokjin pulls you into a searing kiss, his hand still kneading your breast while his other hand grabs your ass to pull your body flush against his. He continues kissing and touching you, pulling out moan after moan, touching your body to make you jerk and press yourself further onto him. You can feel his hard erection underneath you, so you naturally start grinding on him, seeking friction to enhance your pleasure. You hear the growl first before he bucks his hips up, catching you by surprise.
“Oh my god!” You yelp, your sex feels like it is on fire. You hold your breath and grip his shoulders, your orgasm just within reach.
He tuts in your ear. “Gonna cum already?” He nips your earlobe. “I haven’t even started yet, petal. You’re so sensitive, hmm?”
You cling onto him. “Want to,” you mumble.
He maneuvers you so that you are seated facing him, straddling him. His hands are on your thighs, pushing your dress up and up, until your panties are shown to his hungry eyes. He licks his lips. Your cheeks burn at his brazen show of desire.
“God, I have good taste.”
His self-praising line makes you giggle a little, which in turns makes him laugh too. Feeling the tension abating a little gives you some courage to lift your dress up and off, presenting yourself in the lingerie he has gifted you.
“Fuck…” he leans back on the sofa. You feel your skin heating at the way he looks at your body. The self-conscious feeling is creeping in again, your hands itching to cover your middle, but before you can do so, he grabs your hands and pulls them to the small of your back, pinning them there. The position makes you arch your back, pushing your breasts closer towards him.
“Fuck,” he curses again, “I’m going to have so much fun taking these off of you.”
You are delirious. Seokjin is merely admiring your body with his eyes, butl your arousal continues soaking your panties. You grind your hips again, desperate to feel his hard cock. You wriggle your wrists, and he adjusts his grip on you so that you can link your fingers with his.
“My baby is so horny, hmm?” He chuckles in fake amusement. “Want to wet my jeans so much, do you?”
You let out a series of yeses amidst your panting. You rock your hips, angling your pussy so you can rub your clit against his denim-covered bulge.
“That’s it, baby,” Seokjin encourages you, “ride me till you cum.”
“Oh god,” you squeal as you feel your orgasm building up, “oh god… Daddy!”
You ride him harder, and you wriggle your wrists free. Your hands immediately latch onto your lingerie clad breasts, squeezing them so tight till it hurts, while your lower body continues to rock in Seokjin’s lap.
“Fucking hell, look at you so lewd and loud,” he chuckles darkly. “So desperate to cum, aren’t you?”
You nod your head furiously.
“So cum, baby. Cum for your daddy.”
His words are all it takes for your dam to burst. Your jaw drops open as heat engorges your body, from your core traveling up to your head, rendering you breathless and motionless. Amidst the explosion, you feel the bra of your lingerie set being ripped off of your body, and Seokjin descends, almost aggressively, to your freed tits.
His strong hands hold you up when you just want to melt into his hard chest. He sucks, nibbles, gropes to his heart’s content as you recover from your orgasm.
“You’re shaking, baby, you cum good?”
“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe out, wincing when he sucks and pulls on your nipples more roughly.
“You look so good cumming for me. Wanna see it again.”
Before you can tell him to give you a breather, he flips you over till you are lying on the sofa. He stands up, towering over you, running his fingers over your body. You realize then he is still fully clothed, and you notice the wet spot on his crotch.
Seokjin follows your line of sight and taps your chin. “Look how you made it wet, baby. I bet your panties are ruined.” You turn to hide your face but he spreads your legs open and tuts at what he finds. “You’ve soaked your panties. You dirty, dirty girl.”
You mewl, you can feel the satin material of your panties stick uncomfortably to your pussy.
“So wet,” he continues, “I bet my fingers will slide right into your little pussy.”
Your eyes returned to the wet bulge on his pants. You reach to him shyly, palming his erection. “Daddy…”
“Hmm? Baby wants cock now?”
You nod, your body writhing from a new wave of arousal. Your mouth waters at the thought of sucking Seokjin’s cock. He steps closer to your head and your mind reels from the anticipation, but instead of taking his cock out for you, he manhandles you again until you are positioned upside down on the sofa- your head dangling on the edge of the seat, while your lower body is propped up against the back of the seat, your legs open and hanging over.
Blood rushes to your brain and you internally panic. “Seokjin,” you call out to him, worry laced in your voice.
“Relax, baby,” he unzips his pants and pulls his cock out, stroking it lazily. “This way you can suck me while I play with your wet pussy.”
You try to process what he has just said, but your mouth opens automatically as his cock comes to your vision. He praises you as he slides it in, until the head hits the back of your throat. You gag so he withdraws, before he goes in again, forcing himself a little deeper this time.
“Good girl, taking daddy’s cock so well,” he caresses your cheek, “you’re gonna take it all, yeah? Relax your throat, baby.”
You close your eyes. Your jaw is aching already but you force your mouth and throat to adjust to his girth and length.
“That’s a good girl,” Seokjin moans above you as you swallow more of his length. He rains praises on you as you take him more, determined to deep throat him. “You feel so good, baby, fuck!” He reaches down to your breasts and squeezes them, holding onto them as he starts fucking your throat. You gag again but he ignores you, making you open yourself more to take him.
Saliva pools in your mouth, and you choke, needing an outlet for the liquid before it goes up your nose. Seokjin relents a little, giving you a small window to let your saliva seep out, rolling down your face to mix with the tears from your eyes. He picks up his pace, his balls slapping against your nose, and despite the constraint you are in, you feel feverish with wanton lust.
Even more when you feel his fingers pulling your panties aside. Cold air assaults your clammy pussy, giving it some relief, but not for long as Seokjin pats your pussy roughly with his fingers, making your body jolt.
“Let’s see how tight you are,” he inserts a long finger and your walls clench immediately at the intrusion. He hisses at the tightness and adds another finger. You moan around his length. Seokjin fingers you hard and fast, scissoring you open. “Fucking tight cunt. My cock is gonna split you open, baby.”
You clench again at his words. He chuckles, “You like that, don’t you? You want Daddy’s big cock to stretch you out?”
As a reply, you moan again around his cock and your pussy pulsates around his fingers. He curses, “Fucking pussy sucking me in!” He fingers you faster, until the squelching sound fills the room, mixed with your moans and his. Then without any warning, he yanks his fingers out and starts rubbing your clit harshly. He presses his body down and continues fucking your mouth, trapping you underneath him. You grip his ass, holding on for dear life as you suck his cock, and his fingers urgently pull another orgasm out of you.
Seokjin pulls out of your mouth when your legs start shaking, allowing you to scream his name as another tsunami of pleasure washes through you. His fingers do not relent, however, eager to prolong your orgasm as much as possible.
“Fuck… Daddy, please… no,” you push his fingers away once you are able to collect yourself, and Seokjin does as you ask, only after he snaps your panties back in place, making you jerk from oversensitivity.
He leaves you in your position, upside down on his sofa, as he watches your body come down from its climax. He makes a show of licking his fingers clean of your juices, and you cannot believe how your body responds so quickly after your orgasm. You are hungrier than before.
Your hand goes to his cock, your fingers wrapping around it, still damp from your saliva. “Daddy,” you mewl, desperate need in your voice. “Want your cock, please…”
Your sugar daddy smiles mockingly at you. “You just had my cock in your mouth, baby. That’s not enough?”
You whimper at his teasing. You want to be greedy. “Want your cock in me, daddy, please.”
“You sure, baby? Your pussy can barely take my fingers.”
“Daddy!” You whine, your hand stroking him with more determination now, while your other hand slides under your ruined panties. Seokjin’s eyes widen at your action. “Please, daddy, I can take you, please.”
Seokjin pulls your panties aside again to see two of your fingers pumping desperately in and out your pussy. He watches you intently, trying to stay in control, but you feel his cock twitch in your hand. You tighten your grip on him.
“Daddy, it’ll be so nice and tight for you,” you insert a third finger, eyes rolling back at the stretch. “Ah, daddy, please fuck me!”
His cock twitches again, so you finger yourself harder. You chant your nickname for him, begging him to replace your fingers.
“Fuck me, please daddy, my fingers are so small, I need your big cock, please!” You watch him through your lidded eyes, your vision getting hazier with lust overtaking your body yet again. Never in a million years did you think you would be able to act and talk so lewdly, to be so shameless before a man, but Seokjin, in more ways than one, has changed you, and the tension from the past three months has eroded all your decency. You are so horny for him, you just want him to use you as he likes.
Seokjin grips both your hands, removing them from his cock and your cunt. He maneuvers you again so that you’re seated upright, then he undresses fully. You take the time to recalibrate yourself after being upside down for so long, while also watching his toned body being revealed.
He sits down and motions you to get back on his lap. “Face the front,” he instructs, and you dumbly obey, your body following his orders naturally. His large hands engulfs you, kneading and molding your flesh, and you surrender yourself fully to him.
“You beg so sweetly, so I’m gonna give you what you want, baby.” He whispers in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. He places your legs on either side of his, and then he spreads them, opening you up and keeping you open.
“My panties,” you breathe out, wiggling as the fabric of your underwear bunches up against your slit.
“Keep them on. You look so slutty with them on.”
Seokjin pulls the panties aside and lines his cockhead with your hole. You grimace as you feel it bullying itself in, gasping in pain as your pussy is stretched to the limit.
“Told you it’s not gonna fit,” he chuckles against your cheek, licking the tears that have escaped your eyes.
“It will fit, it will fit,” you chant to yourself. Despite the stinging discomfort, you are already addicted to the feel of his cock splitting you open. You sink down, slowly but surely, and when your pussy finally swallows him whole, you are nearly hysterical from how good he feels inside you.
“Fuck, baby, so tight and so warm,” he hugs you from behind.
“So big, daddy,” you pant. You reach down to your lower abdomen and rub your skin there, feeling for the bulge. “So big and so good.”
“My petal, my girl,” Seokjin pulls your face towards him to kiss you sweetly, as if he is so proud of you for taking all of him in. “My good, good girl. Daddy’s gonna fuck you good now, okay?”
“Yes, daddy, please.”
“My good girl deserves to be fucked silly, hmm?” His hands rest gently on your breasts. You sigh your agreement into his kiss. “Put your hands behind my neck, baby, and keep them there, okay?”
You grip the back of his neck.
“Good girl.”
He starts pounding into you hard and fast without any warning; the air from your lungs is knocked out so suddenly that you let out silent screams as his cock reaches new depths inside you. You hold on to his neck tightly, not wanting to disobey him, so your fingers dig into his skin there, which makes him hiss and go even faster.
“So fucking tight, so fucking wet! Been thinking about this pussy for so long. Fuck, you feel so good. Tightest pussy I ever had.” Seokjin spits each comment with every hard thrust.
Your body is jostled around, bouncing wildly on top of him. When you finally find your voice, you cannot even string any coherent sentence. You are literally being fucked dumb by him. And you revel in it, in the way your tits are slapping against his open palms, in his heavy breathing on your neck, in the sounds of skin slapping against skin, so loud in your ears that it adds to your arousal.
“Gonna cream my cock, baby? Gonna let me cum in you? Fill this tight pussy up?”
“Oh god, yes! Yes!” You squeal your answer, and squeal even more when his fingers find your engorged bud. He rubs it almost brutally, vigorously drawing your orgasm closer. “Daddy, daddy, please! Oh fuuuck…”
The pressure is getting too much, and you frantically seek for something to hold on to. You find his hair and you clutch onto it tightly as you feel the explosion nearing.
“Daddy, oh, fuck, daddy!”
“Fuck, that’s it, cum for daddy, come on!”
Your core explodes, and you feel like your soul has left your body, floating and basking in the climax of your pleasure, while your body seizes up, your pussy clamping down painfully tight around Seokjin’s cock, making him lose control and spurt into you. He pumps his hips up a couple more times, emptying himself to the last drop, before sinking into the sofa, pulling you with him.
“Fuck, that was amazing.”
You blink your eyes open. Now that your mind is cleared of lust, your insecurity creeps back in. “Did I do good?” you ask meekly.
Seokjin answers you with a searing kiss. “Did so well. My good, good girl.”
Your heart soars at his praise. You rest your body on his, his hands still secure around you, and you feel so blissed out, so safe, you just want to fall asleep in his arms.
“Petal, do you have any plans tomorrow?”
His question brings you back. You quickly run through your schedule in your head. “No, none, why?”
“You’re staying with me till Monday,” he lays you down on the sofa, his body still connected to yours. Your heart starts racing again. He pinches a nipple and you squirm, clenching your pussy. “My girl is so insatiable, hmm?” He bites and sucks on your breast. You clench again. “Keep clenching around my cock, baby, make me hard again.”
It does not take long at all.
Surprisingly, you feel pretty good, you might even say you’re glowing, despite the very little sleep you got over the last 2 nights, and the soreness in your limbs and your pussy. You wonder if people around you can tell that you have just spent many, many hours being fucked to oblivion by a very big cock belonging to a very hot, very sexy man.
You get to class, and gingerly sit down at your usual seat in the back corner of the room, trying to be as invisible as you possibly can, staying out of your classmates’ attempts to make small talk. You wriggle a little to alleviate the soreness of your sex, but all it does is remind you when you sat on Seokjin’s face, wriggling while he ate you out until you were a crying mess. You immediately slap your cheeks to stop your mind from wandering too far into the details. Luckily, your phone dings and breaks you from your reverie. You nearly drop it though, when you see how much he has deposited into your account.
You do a quick calculation- you have enough to pay off a sizeable chunk of your parents’ gambling debt, three months worth of rent, and even the university fee for next semester. You cover your mouth in shock.
Another ding from your phone arrives, and with a trembling hand, you open the next notification.
KSJ >> Booked you an appointment this afternoon at Mikrokosmos Spa. Enjoy yourself, my sweet petal. I’ll see you Friday night.
PS: Tada! Hope you enjoy this fic. I'm excited to set this series out and in motion, to see how this couple navigate their new dynamic... especially with OT7 in the horizon, hmm?
If you enjoy reading this fic, it would mean the world that you reblog it so that it will reach a wider audience. Come talk to me in the comments or send me an ask! As always, thank you for reading! 💜
Published 08012023
#seokjin smut#thebtswritersclub#bangtanwritershq#btscreatorscorner#sugar daddy seokjin#seokjin x reader#seokjin pwp#bts smut#bts fan fiction#i miss our wwh so much#hence my mind conjured up these smutty scense#wallflower series
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31 | Legends of Darlaria
⨰ summary: You wake up in yet another unfamiliar place. This time, however, these strangers seem to recognize you. With your previous judgments and aspirations thrown out the window, you're now forced to face where your loyalties really lie. Who will you betray? And which General will you choose to stand by his side?
⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15
⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au
⨰ warnings: profanity, mentions of death
⨰ wordcount: 21.1k
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⧖⧗Many, Many Circas Ago⧗⧖
The 11th city was a familiar place. Not so homely, but pleasant in its own way. Mostly inhabited by scholars and instructors of prestigious academies, it was quite the busy city. Yet there were no merchants who crowded the streets as they did in the 3rd city and no boisterous children running about as they did in the 10th. Your earliest memories were of adults heel-to-toe racing to their destinations with their noses stuck in their books. Your parents fit right into this crowd as divinist scholars, themselves. And if there was one thing in your life that has stayed constant from birth to the present, it was books—which you never minded. It was natural for you to take up reading when it was all that your mothers ever did. And besides, your home’s numerous reading nooks made it easy to cozy up with a nice fairytale and some thick, fleece blankets, listening to the soft crackling of candles and the pitter-patter of rain against the window panes.
When you were younger, possibly around six years old, your parents kept your birthstone in a little tin up on the top shelf of the tallest bookshelf in your home. It was a precaution most parents adhered to when their child was young. You were allowed to play with your birthstone occasionally but, of course, under supervision. Darlaean magic was never something to be messed with. And often, children did not understand the ramifications of this great power. Yet you were aware of it for as long as you could remember. Too often, you read (or really, looked at pictures) about antagonists in your fairytale books consumed by their greed and their thirst for control, attempting to break the limits of what their birthstones could achieve. There were those who tried to bring back the dead, those who attempted to force others to love them, and those who wanted to live forever. In the end, they would always spiral into mania or be forced into defeat by the protagonist. It went without saying that power came with handling the Darlaean birthstone, and that much sheer power always scared you—even as a child.
But you were still fascinated with your birthstone. It was a beautiful, white diamond—so tiny, so easy to lose, that you always felt the need to guard it with your life. You loved the way it would glint in the sunlight and cast small rainbows on your palm. You loved the way it felt when you carefully rolled it around in your hands, memorizing its shape and size. You even adored that it wasn’t a perfect sphere and had a little characteristic black carbon spot near its surface. You used to tell your parents that you could tell your birthstone apart from an entire heap of other diamonds. They’d always laugh and pat your head as if you were telling a joke, but you were always serious.
Your birthstone became your most prized possession. You polished it, sang to it, treated it as your doll, which your parents also found quite humorous. Though you weren’t familiar yet with how to use your birthstone to channel magic, you could already feel the sheer energy coursing through your veins every time you picked it up. It was such a good, intense feeling that you would often beg your parents—whoever didn’t have her nose stuck in a book—to reach for the tin hidden on the bookshelf so you could hold your birthstone in your hands again.
As you grew in age, your parents became more lenient with their household rules. They allowed you to eat sweets before bedtime. They began letting you sleep in during the weekends. They no longer kept the tin can far out of your reach. You realized only years later that they’d simply forgotten to hide it away once their research began picking up and their schedules became hectic. But you didn’t mind so much that your parents could no longer read to you before bed every night and were no longer present during dinnertime. Living in the 11th city, where you were practically the only child in a place bustling with well-read adult scholars, forced you to appreciate your own company.
You continued reading your adventure-filled fairytales, living vicariously through the topsy-turvy lives of legends and heroes. The best tales were always the ones with happy endings. And happy endings came when the protagonist was strong enough to defeat the villain. It made you starry-eyed and hopeful. When the world became doused in flames one day, you dreamed of being the one to extinguish them. Or, at least play a small part in it. And what better way to prepare for this moment than to practice your magic?
You spent hours hunched over on the floor of your living room, experimenting with your birthstone. The familiar smell of eucalyptus, the emerald green carpet underneath your legs, the wax candles lining the edge of the room (a total fire hazard amongst all of the books surrounding it)—they’re all sensories so familiar to you. Of course, on some days, patches of that emerald green carpet would be a bright shade of orange or clashing stripes of yellow and magenta. Sometimes the beige wax candles would flicker green for a moment. Other times, the eucalyptus leaves would turn a bright shade of pink.
You liked this natural ability to make changes. It started off small as color-shifting, temporarily changing the colors and patterns of any household item you could find—once even the grass patch outside your house, which nearly gave your good old neighbors a heart attack. But your abilities soon developed into size-shifting as well. Once, with a bit of luck, you managed to shrink an entire stack of books and in your excitement, displayed your fine work to your parents. Yet instead of being proud of you, your parents had a joint mental breakdown, for the stack of books you shrunk had been their lifelong research. Lucky for them, however, your alchemy skills lacked the finesse to make permanent changes, and in seconds, their research reverted safely back to its normal size in a few minutes. Even still, from that point forward, you avoided experimenting on books for your parents’ mental sake.
On your tenth birthday, your parents surprised you with a gift. You remember looking at the slender, mahogany box, excitement bubbling inside of you. Gifts on special occasions weren’t very normal in your household; birthdays usually passed uncelebrated, which you never really minded, but that only made this gift so much more special.
Yet inside the box was an ugly, gray quill, and right before the plumage began on the stem, your precious birthstone sat studded. You stared at it with a confused look on your face.
“It’s your trinket, dear,” Ma said with an excited smile. “Go on, take it out!”
Mother was also smiling, though she wasn’t as enthusiastic as Ma. “Quill trinkets are all the rage these days, Y/N.”
“It’s perfect for a scholar-to-be like you, honey,” Ma said.
Though you should’ve been grateful that your parents went out of their way to give you a trinket—something you’ll likely have until the rest of your life—it was hard to be happy when it was so… ugly. Though you never exactly had a dream trinket as many others do (you’ve always been more interested in the birthstone itself), nothing about a quill trinket sounded desirable to you. It was forgettable. Drab-looking, too. And you could already picture yourself running after it flying away in the wind.
Your mothers quickly caught on to your distaste.
“You don’t like it,” Mother said, her eyebrows furrowing just slightly.
“Eunbi, I told you you shouldn’t have asked Kihoon of all people for trinket suggestions for little girls!” Ma said accusingly. “What would a forty-year-old man know about what a child would want?”
“She’ll grow into it, Sura,” Mother said. “She’ll appreciate it when she’s older.”
“Face it, Eunbi. We fucked up. What ten-year-old would want a damn quill as her trinket?”
“I said, she’ll grow into it.”
“I like my trinket,” you lied to ease the tension in the air. “I really do like it, Ma. Please don’t be angry.”
She looked at you, shaking her head, her dangly earrings swaying back and forth. “Honey, I’m a divinist. You don’t need to lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Don’t lie to Ma,” Mother said.
“I’m not!”
“We can get you a new trinket,” Ma said. “Something that you like.”
“We have a conference next week,” Mother reminded Ma. “We won’t have time.”
“That’s okay,” you told them. “I like this one already.”
They were skeptical, but you proved to them that you did, in fact, like your trinket by carrying it around everywhere, keeping the gray thing pinned to your hair, behind your ear. But on particularly windy days, you always opted to stay home.
Yet never once did you ever consider getting a new trinket; your parents would be devastated. And even with your lacking relationship with them, you never wanted to be their source of trouble. Besides, the heroes in your fairy tales told white lies to save others’ feelings, anyway, and you looked up to these heroes, so it was only natural for you to mirror their behavior. After a while, the quill trinket became a part of you, and you learned to cherish it—but only after you found a way to temporarily color-shift it into more appealing hues.
Your parents didn’t interfere with your life too much, but perhaps that was a good thing. You had more time for yourself. They did, however, occasionally ask how your grades were in school, being scholars and all. It made you feel a degree of pressure to perform well in academia. And for a while, you believed you would one day become an alchemist scholar, which would break your parents’ hearts if you told them, so you never did. They always believed you’d become a divinist as they were, which made sense considering there weren’t many moments where you sat down to discuss with them. So you continued to keep to yourself and read your fairytales as a source of company.
These stories quickly became your solace. On your short walks to school, you liked to pretend you were one of the busy adults, sticking your nose in your books and beelining to your destination. Except, while you were reading tales of great courage and empathy, they were reading their serious manuscripts.
But your childhood wasn’t spent completely alone. You had plenty of friends from school, but they all lived in the 10th city, and you never wanted to bother your parents’ frequent silent reading times to invite them over to your home in the 11th. Besides, you preferred being alone. Other children sometimes tired you, though you never understood why. Perhaps it was because you quickly realized that there was a disconnect.
“My ma said that Pa’s gonna come back this winter! Maybe he’ll bring back some gifts!”
“Where did your pa go?” you’d asked, genuinely curious.
“Don’t you know? Jisun’s father went to war.”
“War?”
There are gasps.
“Y/N, you don’t know that there’s a war?!”
“How do you not know?”
“Why do you think we’re not allowed to go to the 1st city anymore?”
“O-Oh… I…” You had no excuse other than the fact that you were never taught that there was a war. Your parents never mentioned it, and you assumed the wars in your fairytales were always fiction.
“That’s funny, Y/N. I always thought you were gonna fight in the war.”
“Me too!”
“Me?” you asked, bewildered.
“You always carry your trinket with you,” Jisun said, pointing at the pink feather behind your ear. “My ma says only soldiers carry around their trinkets everywhere.”
“I-I just like having it near me…” The heroes in your fairytales carried their trinkets everywhere, to be able to react swiftly when problems occurred.
“My ma won’t even let me leave the house carrying my birthstone,” Jisun continued. “Do your parents want you to become a soldier?”
“No…”
“Oh.” There is a slight pause. “Wanna grab pastries at the bakery? It’s in the 10th city, though.”
“I’m okay,” you said. “I have to go home.”
You’d quickly left that day, locking yourself in your room and staring up at your ceiling in deep thought. A week later, you finally built up the courage to confront your parents.
“Mother, Ma, is there a war?”
Both of your parents looked up from their readings in shock.
“Oh, honey…” Ma said. “Yes… the war…”
The ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ got caught in your throat, but it didn’t matter that you didn’t say it because they seemed to glean it from your expression, anyway.
“We didn’t want you to panic,” Mother said. “But the war has been going on for decades. Over a century, even. It’s a stupid game of power, anyway. The only thing affected by it is the lives of pathetic soldiers.”
“Eunbi!” Ma said. “She’s a child. Let’s try to have some filter, please.”
“She needs to face the reality of the war,” Mother said. She turned to you. “Don’t waste your time and breath on it, Y/N. We’re all above it.”
“My friends told me that they thought I wanted to be a soldier.”
“What?!” Mother said, clearly offended for you. “How?”
“Because I always carry my trinket around.”
“They… don’t carry their trinkets around?” Ma asked.
“No, Ma, they don’t have trinkets yet,” you said.
“What do you mean they don’t have trinkets yet?” Mother frowned.
“Well… It’s just that they’re not allowed to leave the house with their birthstones,” you tried to explain.
Ma turned to Mother, her earrings swaying to and fro. “Did we give her access to her birthstone too early?”
“...Mayhaps,” Mother said. “But it’s too late now.” She made eye contact with you. “Don’t listen to them, Y/N. They don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re all children,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re not going to be a soldier. That would simply be preposterous.”
“Yes, Eunbi is right,” Ma said, nodding her head. “You’re our destined little scholar, sweetheart.”
Your interactions with your parents were sparse, but that never meant that they didn’t care about you. They found their own ways to show you love, which would have baffled your friends, but your mothers’ peculiar parenting was what you were used to and what you found comfortable. They would often leave new books on your desk. These books were never fairytales—mostly divinist research. But there were occasional alchemy books, too, which you would read over and over again when you were looking for something heavier than your usual fairytales. On weeks when your parents were away to attend conferences, they left you a few extra notes to spend at the mini-markets in the 8th city. They would also leave your thick peacoat out on your chair before you left for school in the mornings if they foresaw the weather taking a cold turn later in the day.
They simply didn’t have time to show it much, but they loved you. And strangely, all you wanted to do was to make them proud, which made you hide away the side of you that longed to become a hero, a successful alchemist—for their sake.
But there were still parts of your parents that you never quite understood.
They often talked about the 12th city, where the castle grounds lay.
“Oh, Eunbi, wouldn’t it be so nice if we could continue our research as royal divinists?”
“Yes, Sura, that does sound quite nice.”
But these conversations never amounted to anything. All your parents ever did was read; you seldom ever saw them write or conduct an experiment to back their claims. But they were divinists, and they were often blinded by their version of the future, no matter how idealistic it was. You didn’t like that they did this, of course. The heroes in your stories set off to make change; they would save entire towns and cities and kingdoms—sometimes even the world. You didn’t understand why your parents were so content with being stagnant on research that could allegedly impact so much.
As you grew older, your patience with your parents grew thin. Maybe there was a little bit of resentment there as well, for how could you flourish and become the best version of yourself if your own two parents had made no progress at all? You wanted to make them feel proud, but you began wondering if they would even care if you achieved anything. It was a horrible thought to have. And maybe it was because you were 12 and your rebellious pre-teen phase was kicking in; you were at that age where everything your parents advised you to do sounded stupid or like a mere suggestion. Or maybe this was how you should have always felt, instead of forgiving them and loving them unconditionally. These thoughts and feelings bubbled up inside of you until one day, they burst.
“Alchemy?” Mother said with a frown on her face. “You never showed any interest in it… Sura, what do you think?”
Ma was also frowning. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” she told you. “Why such a sudden change?”
“There was never a change,” you tried to clarify. “I’ve always been interested in alchemy.”
“I don’t know, Y/N,” Mother sighed. “We always assumed you were going to be a divinist.”
“But how?” you said, growing frustrated. “Did I ever read your canvases with you? Did I ever play with your runes? Have you ever seen me pick up your research manuscripts?”
“Well, no, but honey, interests change,” Ma said gently. “Divination… Well, it’s in your blood, sweetheart.” Her nose ring seemed to twinkle as she said this, along with her dozens of other piercings. They did that a lot when she was deep in thought, which was just about every second of the day. Usually, you thought the light was pretty; today, you found it annoying.
“We don’t want you to go down an unfamiliar route,” Mother said.
“Yes, Eunbi’s right. You could get yourself hurt without our guidance.”
You had to resist the urge to ask them, ‘Guidance? What guidance?’ But you swallowed those words. It didn’t matter; they probably knew what you were thinking. “You wouldn’t understand,” you told them instead. “Alchemy is what diamonds are good at. Divinists wouldn’t get it.”
“Oh, honey, your birthstone doesn’t dictate what type of magic you decide to specialize in,” Ma said. “There are plenty of diamond holders out there who don’t practice alchemy.”
“But I’m not one of them!”
“How would you know, Y/N? If you’ve never tried divination?” Mother asked. You could tell she was starting to lose her patience. And Ma looked ready to end the conversation.
You wanted to scream. ‘How would I know? I’ll tell you how I know! Because I’ve seen how consumed the two of you have become with divination! Because it’s all talk and no action! Because pattern-recognizing and intuition-honing isn’t real magic, and I want to do something that can make a difference!’
You didn’t say a single word but you swore you saw Ma wilt a little. That’s another thing you’ve always hated about divinists. It’s like they’re always in your head.
After this argument, your parents became even less attentive to you—if that was even possible. They stopped asking about your grades in school, stopped giving you extra allowance when they left for conferences, stopped gifting you books altogether. It made you feel unloved and unwanted, though you tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe their research picked up once more. Maybe they were hurt by your unsaid words and wanted some distance from you to sort their feelings out. Maybe you should apologize.
But the other part of you couldn’t understand why you should apologize for something you never said. And besides, if their love for you had purely been because they thought you were going to follow in their divinist scholar footsteps, then maybe you didn’t want anything to do with them anymore. And in that moment of sadness, confusion, and anger, you impulsively applied to the most prestigious academy in all of Darlae—in part of honing your alchemy skills but also to escape your parents, for the dorms in Botswana Agate Academy were rumored to be as lush as the chambers in the castle grounds. You didn’t think you were going to get in, but miraculously, an acceptance letter appeared in your mailbox one day. Welcome to Botswana Agate Academy, the title read. You nearly cried when you saw it.
You told your parents, of course, and they congratulated you, as any reasonable parents would, but they weren’t so happy when they realized you were accepted into their alchemy division and that the academy required a hefty tuition fee. But attending Botswana was like a dream. They sent you a beautiful uniform, one that was as elegant and pristine as the school, and they even offered to embed your birthstone in a new trinket that was easier to carry around. You considered it, of course, but ultimately decided against it. The quill trinket was really the last thing that tied you and your parents together. And as much as you resented them, you still occasionally felt homesick and longed for the good days when they used to read to you in bed. Besides, you’ve grown quite attached to that ugly gray quill, and as impractical as it was, it was still yours. Like a little quirk. Many heroes in your stories had something that made them special, too.
But ostensibly, you would’ve been considered special even without your unconventional trinket. Botswana taught you that you had a knack for magic. A “natural talent” was what your instructors were calling it. But they never realized how many hours of practice you put in to get this far.
You were adept in putting your skills into action, which showed that externally, you were, in a way, “talented.” But Botswana also emphasized the internal mechanisms of Darlaean magic, which included unfamiliar jargon and technical terminologies. You tried your best to keep up.
“The objective of today’s study,” Instructor Shin began, “is to delineate the differences between our two branches of magic and its three distinct types. Y/N?” she said, pushing up her silver-rimmed glasses and looking at you expectantly. With her thin eyebrows, even thinner red lips and pristine outfits, she was a respectable (and sometimes feared) instructor. Students often tried to impress her, for she was known to write excellent letters of recommendation to get into Botswana Agate’s sister academy for older students: Aven Quartz.
You sat right up when you heard your name, your heart already thumping in your chest. Unfortunately, it was normal for instructors in Botswana to cold call, and while it wasn’t your favorite thing about the academy, you managed to survive by simply overpreparing. “If you could be so kind as to start off the lesson this morning,” Instructor Shin said in her rather soothing voice, “please give a general description, as per the assigned reading, of the two branches for the class.”
Your throat felt parched, but you spent three hours last night hunched over your textbook General Knowledge for Botswana Agate Students (the one that Instructor Shin herself wrote), reciting every line in the 50-page reading, committing it to memory, then doing it over again and over again with your own words until the chapter showed up in your dreams. Still, your mind teetered on the line of going completely blank—public speaking had never quite been your forte—but you also couldn't let your efforts go to waste. “I… I believe the two branches of magic are light and dark,” you said a little hesitantly, fiddling with the quill behind your ear. “Colloquially, we call them rational and emotional magic, but those terms are misguided and outdated. Um… dark magic, if I’m remembering correctly, is the kind of magic that requires deep focus, objective reasoning and logic to cast. If the caster is successful, we would call that charm, a hex. I believe that dark magic is said to be reliable and consistent but can behave unpredictably when attempted to be cast with emotion. And um, light magic… it’s the kind of magic that requires channeling one’s emotions to cast what we call a whim. Its range of abilities tends to fluctuate, depending on the caster’s emotional state, so it has the potential to be extremely powerful—arguably even more so than any dark magic.”
Your hands were shaking by the time you finished speaking, and it didn’t really help that Instructor Shin’s facial expressions were always unreadable, her red lips pressed together eternally. But you must’ve been correct because she gave you a small nod, thanked you for sharing and called on another student to answer another one of her questions about the reading. “Tell me, Joonhee, why are we discouraged to use light magic here in Botswana?”
Joonhee was charismatic and confident, and he never looked nervous when cold-called. “It can be dangerous,” he said without missing a beat. “We want our magic to be reliable and consistent, like Y/N said. Light magic is unpredictable and may go terribly wrong if say, the caster’s emotions are extremely negatively charged. It’s only really condoned for our soldiers to use in the war.”
“That’s correct, Joonhee,” Instructor Shin said, nodding. “Though light magic is a useful branch in the face of danger or chaos, it does not mesh well with our everyday charms. Of course, you will be naturally inclined to one of these two branches,” she told everyone, “but to do well in Botswana Agate, you must learn the importance of dark magic. Now, Jangmi, can you tell us if our birthstones dictate the branch of magic we naturally gravitate toward?”
“Our birthstones do not,” Jangmi said confidently. “But I think they do dictate the type of magic we are the best at.”
“To an extent, yes,” Instructor Shin said. “But the general consensus is that anyone can excel at either branch of magic and every type of magic. I, for one, am a so-called destined divinist,” she said, holding up her black pointer, adorned with an emerald at the top, for the entire class to see. “But I teach alchemy at Botswana. Some of you may know me as your instructor for Introduction to Alchemy, and I would like to think that I am fairly skilled at it. So, students,” she said, “never feel limited by your birthstone. Now, Donghoon, what are the three different types of magic and which birthstones are associated with what?”
But poor Donghoon looked like he forgot to do the reading yet again. “I-I… uh, a-alchemy,” he stuttered, “...and healing… um…” He struggled to recall the last one.
“Divination,” Jangmi whispered next to him.
“Divination!” Donghoon magically remembered. “A-And… the birthstones associated… Uh…” He desperately looked down at the little pocket watch he always carried around—not to check the time, but to stare at the shining green peridot inside the glass. It seemed to make things slightly easier for him because you watched his eyes light up for a second. “For alchemy, there is peridot…” he trailed off, already stuck, but when he made eye contact with you, his eyebrows rose in remembrance: “Oh! And diamond…”
Instructor Shin was becoming impatient, however, so she interrupted him. “Let’s do our daily readings on time, Donghoon. Haeyun, could you tell us, please?”
“Yes, Instructor Shin,” Haeyun said. “There are four birthstones associated with each magic type. For healing, they are aquamarine, garnet, ruby and opal. For alchemy, they are diamond, alexandrite, peridot and citrine. For divination, they are amethyst, emerald, sapphire and zircon.”
“Correct,” Instructor Shin said. “Well, Donghoon, do you think you can enlighten us with your definition of alchemy?”
“I actually know this one!” Donghoon looked excited. “It’s the study of matter and small particles and using that knowledge to reshape our perceptions of them! The basics include color and size-shifting. More difficult charms include masking and true alchemy, which is just turning material into gold. Also, you can technically create things out of thin air, but it’s near impossible. But I’ve heard it’s been done before!” Donghoon sat back in his chair a little too smugly for someone who always neglected to do the readings. But his father was Head Instructor, so nothing could be done.
“Very good, Donghoon,” Instructor Shin said, issuing one of her rare compliments. “You’re correct. While gold has no monetary value in Darlae, in the past, and before the blockade, we profited from our gold trade, thanks to our alchemists. You’ll learn more about this with Instructor No in Darlaean History. It is also nearly impossible, as you’ve said, to create something out of nothing, but it has been done in the past. Our head instructor, fifty years ago, accomplished this. Head Instructor Jeon was his name. He created a small wine glass from nothing, and we still have it in memory of him. It is displayed in our dining hall if you would like to see it after class,” Instructor Shin said quite proudly. “Now, who would like to explain healing and divination in their own words?”
Even though there was the constant fear of being cold-called, you quite enjoyed Instructor Shin’s General Knowledge course. It was one of those courses that every first-year Botswana Agate student was required to take—like Darlaean History—and you could see why. Though the class was often densely packed with information and the readings never seemed to end, it was also enlightening and put much of your early experience with magic into words. Some struggled with it more than others.
“Hell, I totally fucking blanked in there,” Donghoon said as he scratched his head and nearly spilled the contents of his book bag as he adjusted the shoulder straps. You helped him steady the bag and he shot you a grateful look.
“Are you sure you didn’t just forget to do the reading?” Joonhee snorted as he walked past you and Donghoon, not even giving him a chance to answer. It’s a little rude, but Joonhee’s always been like that: confident, charismatic and cocky.
“Don’t worry about him,” you told Donghoon as the two of you began to walk to your next class, which happened to be an unpopular elective called Fashion Studies. You were only placed in it because you enrolled late—your parents didn’t have the time to sign some papers that would’ve made you an official Botswana student. And Donghoon was only placed in it because he forgot to enroll in half of his classes.
“I don’t really worry,” Donghoon said. He just shrugged good-naturedly. “He and I are in different leagues. He’ll probably become the damn General of the Darlaean Army one day. I’d be lucky if I even pass a single class here.”
You frowned. “Don’t say that.”
Donghoon shrugged again. “I’m only here because of my father. Everyone knows that. I’m just waiting to be kicked out so I can achieve my lifelong dream of starting a tea shop. I don’t need alchemy for that.” He suddenly looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then, he leaned in with a mischievous look on his face. “I wouldn’t even need Darlaean magic. I’d need Solaria’s.”
You raised your eyebrows. Why was he telling you this? Was it a test to see if you agreed? He was his father’s son after all, and there was an extreme backlash in the scholar community against Head Instructor Kim for so openly supporting the Darlaean Army when Botswana instructors were to remain neutral about the war. You decided to tread carefully. “Really? With the elements and stuff?”
“Yeah,” Donghoon said. “I’d need fire to boil the water and earth for the tea leaves.” He looked at you strangely. “You’re not going to tell on me, are you? You don’t seem like the type.”
“N-No, of course not. I’m just… surprised.”
“My father and I are different people,” Donghoon said with a shrug. “He can eat shit for all I care. I don’t support the war. It’s just stupid. People dying left and right. And for what?”
“People die out there?” you asked incredulously.
“What did you think they were doing? Playing tea party? Of course they die out there—our people, their people. We just don’t hear the stories because we’re so far in, you know, being in the 11th city most of the time. Most of our parents are rich enough to keep us sheltered. And we sure as hell don’t learn about it in Darlaean History ‘cause ‘neutrality’ and all that bull. But we might start this new curriculum focusing solely on Solarian war crimes. Courtesy of my father, you know. He thinks it’ll help with showcases, which are military propaganda by the way.”
“Oh…” This conversation surprised you. Donghoon was often characterized as stupid and ditzy by others. He’s the spoiled, stuck-up brat who leeched off of his successful father and had rocks for brains. But that most certainly wasn’t correct. It simply looked like he cared about things outside what Botswana could offer.
“Anyways,” Donghon sighed, “you’re smart, so I’m sure you’ll make correct judgments.” When he caught you frowning, he grinned. “You act humbly, but you’re top of your classes.”
Your face heated up. “Oh, I… I still don’t understand why they publicly post the class rankings…”
“It’s ‘tradition for excellence,’” Donghoon mockingly quoted while holding in a laugh. “And it’s supposed to motivate people like me. Obviously, it’s not working. Anyways, you know, you’re really good at alchemy. Really, really good.”
“O-Oh,” you said, feeling bashful. “Thanks. But I’m not naturally good or anything. I just put in a lot of effort.”
“Mhm sure. There are people like Jangmi who put in the effort but still can’t cast charms successfully, you know. She’s within the top ten in every class except Intro to Alch—the only class that doesn’t use a textbook. Magic doesn’t come so intuitively for others.”
Donghoon was strangely observant. You looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t know…”
Your response must have not been so satisfactory. “Hmph. You’re pretty shy, aren’t you?” Donghoon said. “I feel like every time we talk, well, I’m the one who’s talking.”
That made you crack a smile. “I enjoy listening.”
“Well, I enjoy talking.” Donghoon mirrored your smile. “Anyways, let’s go make some damn clothes while people die on the battlegrounds!”
From that point forward, you and Donghoon became close friends. He was easy to be around and didn’t see you as a competition as many of the other students did. He also always declined your offers to study with him, saying that it was only a matter of time before his father would have no choice but to let him drop out of the academy. “I’m aiming for failing grades in every single class,” he told you on your way to Introduction to Alchemy with Instructor Shin.
“Your tea shop dream would be closer than ever,” you said with a smile.
“You get me, Y/N,” was his enthused response as the two of you found your seats in the classroom in the second row.
Today’s class focused solely on color-shifting. Instructor Shin handed out red apples and told everybody to turn them blue. She gave no further instruction, stepping back and simply watching. For you, this was a simple task; after all, you’ve been color-shifting for more than half of your life now. First, you must become extremely aware of the feather behind your ear, feeling the power emanating from your birthstone. Then, closing your eyes, you imagined a world where apples were blue. They’ve always been blue! It was quite the norm. Blue apples growing on trees, blue apple pies, blue apple jam—you’ve all seen it before. Every time you’ve bitten into an apple, its skin has been a beautiful, shiny, navy blue. Why should the apple in front of you be any different?
When you opened your eyes, sure enough, the apple sitting in front of you was blue—the same deep blue you’d imagined in your head.
Instructor Shin’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t say anything.
Donghoon laughed. “Y/N, in three seconds?!”
You could feel the heat crawl onto your cheeks as you felt every students’ eyes on you. Particularly, you felt Joonhee’s glare at the back of your head. And for the next several minutes, you watched the students around you try their hand at color-shifting for the first time. Most of them were able to change the color of their apples, but it was rarely ever blue. You saw a lot of purples and oranges. And Donghoon, who by habit only practiced light magic, accidentally cast a frustrated whim, which made the apple rot rapidly before your shared desk.
He snorted at his own failure and turned to you. “See?” he said. “I told you that you’re good.”
“I’ve just done this before,” you said.
“How?” Donghoon asked. “Didn’t your parents restrict your birthstone access until you were accepted to Botswana? I know a lot of families who did that in the 10th city.”
“Not really,” you said. “They let me carry it around since I was ten.”
“Hell, they really trusted you.”
It was always a little more like they didn’t trust themselves with you, but Donghoon didn’t have to know that. And besides, now you were partly thankful for your parents’ negligence. It looked like strict parenting stanched magical growth. But thinking about your parents made you feel a little guilty inside since you knew full well that you partly applied to Botswana to escape them after your horrible argument. Still, you tried not to show your inner turmoils and shrugged.
“I guess they did,” you said. “You need me to shift that back? Temporarily, though. I don’t think I’m good enough to do it permanently.”
Donghoon’s eyes widened. “You know how to do that?”
“I’ve never tried, but all I’d have to do is imagine a world where nothing ever rots. And that it’s always been that way.”
“Dark magic, huh?” Donghoon said. “I didn’t pin you for that type, but you’re good.”
You shrugged, and in a few seconds’ time, the apple looked ripe and red again—at least for the remaining class period. You and Donghoon fell into deep conversation after that, mostly Donghoon complimenting your skills and you becoming embarrassed. The two of you failed to notice Instructor Shin looking straight at you with an unreadable look on her face.
Every circa, Botswana Agate Academy invited each student’s parents to what they called Consulting. This entailed the student’s instructors reviewing the student’s standing in their classes and offering the student potential career pathways or advice to excel in the future. Most parents who sent their children to Botswana wanted to know anything and everything about how their money was being used. Your parents, unfortunately, had to attend a last-minute divination conference with their fellow scholars. So last-minute that in fact, rescheduling your Consulting was impossible.
So you sat awkwardly before your three instructors, nervously playing with your trinket behind your ear. “I’m sorry,” you said, embarrassed. “I told them the date three weeks ago… And reminded them frequently…”
“It’s no matter,” Instructor Shin said. “Consulting only concerns you, Kwang Y/N, so you’re all we need to begin.” She shuffled the small stack of papers in front of her and her two co-instructors. “Your rankings are considerably high,” she began. “In the top fifty for all four of your classes. Number one for Introduction to Alchemy, among 600 other students. You’re off to an excellent start.”
You’ve never been able to take compliments well. “Thank you,” you squeaked, awkwardly looking at your hands.
“You naturally gravitate towards dark magic and you were accepted into our alchemy division, so I assume you are also alchemy-inclined.”
You nodded.
“I have a question for you, Y/N,” Instructor Shin suddenly said, which surprised you, for she was always the kind of person who knew everything. “Your parents are divinist scholars, yes? Did they also teach you the ropes of alchemy?”
You shook your head. “No, Instructor Shin. They didn’t.”
“Self-taught?”
“Well, I read many books,” you said. “Um… fairytales, really. But a lot of the… um, a lot of the heroes were alchemy-inclined, so naturally…” It felt so stupid to admit.
Instructor Shin nodded. “I am impressed,” she said, to your surprise. “I have not met many students who have taught themselves the ropes of dark alchemy so well in quite a long time. I want you to audit my Advanced Alchemy course, and if that feels like a better fit, I want you to take it instead of your introductory course and skip the intermediate course entirely. How does that sound?”
Your eyes widened. “A-Amazing,” you managed to whisper in awe. “T-Thank you. Thank you, Instructor Shin.”
It almost felt like a dream. You? How could someone like you impress someone so skilled and intelligent as Instructor Shin? Not only did she want you to skip one course level but also two? How highly did she think of you to suggest such a thing? You would be sitting in class with students two or three years older than you!
It was the dream—to be able to hone your alchemy skills and actually be challenged in class. And yet… You nervously began to play with the feather behind your ear. Why did you suddenly feel an empty pit in your stomach? It was that feeling of dread, which was the last thing you should be feeling with all this good news. But you couldn’t help it. The thing about good first impressions was that there wasn’t much room to be better. (The charismatic villain in your fairytales always gave off a great first impression!) So how long would it take for Instructor Shin to be disappointed in you? How long would it take before you simply became another student in the crowd for her? How long would it take for you to lose the only support you’ve ever had?
You were no prodigy. You were definitely not a genius, either. What Instructor Shin didn’t know was the amount of time and effort you’ve put into your craft. You didn’t wake up one day able to color-shift in the blink of an eye. You worked your way up to it with much trial and error and sleepless nights in your living room. Your peers simply weren’t given access to their birthstones as early as you were. If they had, they’d probably be at your skill level or even higher. So what if you weren’t able to keep up? What if Advanced Alchemy ended up being too advanced for you? How disappointed would Instructor Shin be?
She seemed to sense your uncertainty, which was so palpable that even a non-divinist could feel it. To your surprise, she smiled, her thin red lips curving slightly upwards. You’ve never seen her do such a thing. But her smile was kind and warm and softened her eyes, and it alone almost made you feel a little better.
“My care for my students is never conditional,” she said gently.
Your head jerked up as you met her stare with startled eyes.
“No matter what you achieve and don’t achieve, I will always wish you the best,” Instructor Shin said. “But you don’t need to worry too much. I believe your accomplishments will stretch far beyond what Botswana Agate can offer. I don’t have to be a royal divinist to see it.”
An unconditional support system. It felt almost unheard of—something you’ve only ever seen in fairytales. You’ve tiptoed around your parents for years in fear that they would treat you differently after you confessed to them that divination in your future wasn’t likely. In fact, they did treat you differently after your confession, which you supposed subconsciously taught you that maybe their care was somewhat conditional.
So to have an adult tell you that they would never retract their care for you… It defied everything you’ve known up until now.
You could feel the emotions swelling in your chest. On the one hand, you were grateful. You’ve always dreamed of having a mentor in your life who truly, absolutely cared for you, and you’ve finally found one. But on the other hand, what about your parents? How was it that an instructor you’ve known for one circa understood you better than your parents ever have? They couldn’t even come to your Consulting! Couldn’t make a thirty-minute slot in their schedules for you. But here you were, hearing from Instructor Shin that you were an excellent student. They would never know of it. Nor did you think they’d care. Or maybe they would. Maybe they were still waiting for you to apologize for that day. A small part of you wished that was true. Because them being angry at you would be infinitely better than them not simply caring. But deep down inside, you knew what was really the case.
Before you knew it, tears streamed down your face.
At first, they were tears of sadness, for you couldn’t help but pity yourself and feel horrible that you continued to push your parents away from your life. But when Instructor Shin took a sheet of paper from the stack in front of her and masked it into a handkerchief, handing it to you with a look of endearment on her face, your tears of sadness turned into tears of joy.
You wanted to achieve great things—not for fame, not for recognition—but for a cause bigger than yourself. Instructor Shin believed in you, so what was really stopping you? You wanted to leave a mark, an impact. Just like the heroes in your fairytales. Every great hero had a mentor who pushed them to be better and inspired them to be resilient. While dabbing your tears away, you vowed that you would work harder than ever before, for now, you had Instructor Shin, who was willing to give you unconditional support. Your dream of one day becoming a hero—of any scale—felt closer than ever before.
Surprisingly enough, Fashion Studies was quite interesting. There were no required readings, no required magic skill set. All you had to bring to the class was a creative mind and a penchant for aesthetics. There, you learned about different fabrics, textures, colors, and the latest fashion trends in Darlae. At first, you and Donghoon couldn’t care much about clothes, but by the end of the second circa at Botswana, the two of you were speaking in common fashion parlance, going on frequent shopping trips in the 8th city and finding the school uniforms to be restricting your artistic freedom.
In your second Consulting at Botswana Agate, your Fashion Studies instructor, Instructor Yang noted that he never met students like you and Donghoon who were so excited to take his measly fashion course. Most students took electives that required “a little more brain-power” as Instructor Yang put it. You thought it was hilarious to hear that Donghoon was at the top of the class for Fashion Studies, which was the complete opposite of what he wanted.
“I got a little carried away,” was his excuse when you told him the news. “Hell, I’m gonna need to start slacking for my ultimate plan to work. There’s no way I’m going to let this class be the single piece of evidence my father uses to force me to stay here.”
With Donghoon trying to come up with more and more creative ways of getting expelled (refusing to wear the school uniform, never doing his homework, arriving to exams an entire hour late), your first year at Botswana was never dull.
Your Advanced Alchemy class was the perfect fit for your skill level too. You were being challenged (but not so much that you felt like you were behind), and the older students didn’t really see you as a competition but respected you as one of their peers. They also told you everything you needed to know about Botswana Agate—the good and the bad. But mostly the bad.
“Did you know there are rumors that the curriculum at the academy will change soon?”
“They’re going to make it pro-war, those bastards.”
“Head Instructor Kim is going to run this place to the fucking ground.”
“I heard they’re going to be making courses centered around light magic.”
“That’s bullshit!”
“I mean, you’ve seen how often soldiers have been patrolling the corridors and listening in on our classes, right? They’re totally trying to recruit for the army.”
“Yeah, I heard they’re going to start making showcases mandatory.”
“The next thing you know they’re going to make military enlistment mandatory.”
“I heard it’s like that in Solaria.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, they just knock on your door, drag you out and force you to fight.”
“Where did you hear that from?”
“Well… To be honest, from our soldiers. So it could also be stupid propaganda. I mean, since we’re on a volunteer-based enlistment and our army would do anything to look better than the Solarians. But who knows? Things are changing.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them. If I were them, I’d be embarrassed that the war’s been dragging on for this long. It’s crazy that neither side has agreed to a truce.”
If there was one thing you knew very clearly about Botswana students it was that most of them hated the war. It must be some sort of scholarly instinct. But, of course, there were always outliers.
Joonhee and his band of friends were as pro-army as one could get. They saluted every soldier they passed in the corridors, straightening up their posture and pressing two fingers to their forehead with their other arm glued to their side. You knew Donghoon was joking when he said that Joonhee would one day become the General of the Darlaean Army, but it didn’t really seem like a joke anymore.
“He’s batshit crazy, that one,” Donghoon told you, shaking his head. “He has to be the dumbest genius alive to waste his talents in the army.”
“Do you really think that they’re going to start to make showcases mandatory?” you said, brows furrowing.
“The parents would never approve,” Donghoon said. “Except my father. Even your parents don’t support the war.”
“So who the hell supports it?”
“Unfortunately, just about every other city,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just that scholars don’t believe in violence to solve problems. That and we don’t have that much hatred in our hearts.”
“I don’t get why your father can support the war, then.”
“Honestly, I think he’s after the money. You know, we get paid just to let the soldiers walk around our campus. The army thinks it’s ‘good exposure’ since they’re looking to recruit top talent.”
“Top talent, huh?” You sighed. “Your father must be getting paid one hell of a lot to let them change Botswana’s curriculum.”
“How do you think we bought our new summer home?” Donghoon laughed but soon stopped when you didn’t follow.
“I don’t get it,” you said. “Why would anyone want to go to war? Don’t you die out there?”
“Maybe they like the thrill,” Donghoon said. “I don’t get it either. You should ask Joonhee. He looks like he’s ready to enlist any day now.”
“But we’re only 12!”
“The younger the better,” Donghoon said. “We’re more malleable that way.”
“Malleable…” you repeated.
For someone who claimed they never read, Donghoon had quite the vocabulary. He cursed like a sailor, too, which you’ve unintentionally begun picking up. But besides the influence of linguistics, the more time you spent with Donghoon, the more you became impressed with his character. To you, Donghoon was the protagonist in your fantasy novels—a little bit of an outcast but with a set purpose in life and a passion that never seemed to dull. He may be thought of as goofy by his peers and instructors, but it was all calculated. He was a lot smarter and wiser than people thought. And you liked that he knew so much more than you. You had a lot to learn.
“You know, the soldiers have been looking at the class rankings these days,” Donghoon told you, giving you a meaningful look.
“The rankings?” you said, a frown creasing your forehead.
“Yeah. I’d say expect to be harassed by them very, very soon,” he said.
Sometimes it seemed like everyone except you was a divinist.
Donghoon’s prediction came true in just two days when three soldiers barged into your classroom, swinging the doors open so violently that they banged raucously against the walls. Their jet-black uniforms (even with the silver and purple stitchings) made them look like soot against the pure white interior of the room—like they didn’t belong here. And they didn’t. You could think of at least five other uniform designs that would’ve looked less intimidating, but perhaps intimidation was what they were going for.
The loud noise interrupted Instructor Shin mid-sentence and she glared at the intruders for a split second before continuing her lecture on Darlae’s 12 cities as if nothing had happened at all.
“Ahem.”
Instructor Shin ignored the soldier clearing his throat.
“Ahem.”
At this point, most if not every student had turned their heads toward the three soldiers at the back of the class, wondering if anyone was in trouble. Soldiers often audited classes but they never interrupted or drew attention to themselves. So this was quite new.
“If you could so kindly clear your throat outside so my students could continue with their lesson,” Instructor Shin sighed, looking up to glare at the soldiers. They looked unfazed, however.
“We’d like a word with a few of your students,” the soldier who was having problems with his throat spoke.
“Then it must wait until after class,” Instructor Shin said, swiftly. She pointed at the door with her black pointer. “Please kindly leave.”
“This is an order,” the soldier said, not moving one bit.
“Oh, yes, from who?” Instructor Shin asked, her eyebrows raising as they did when she believed one was lying.
“From Head Instructor Kim.”
Instructor Shin didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t take orders from that individual,” she answered, and before he could retort back, she continued: “You are walking on the territory of scholars, soldier. We do not follow orders from anyone here. We question and we think for ourselves. You may suggest and you may discuss, but you do not order—especially not in my classroom.” She paused, still glaring at the three soldiers. “You may leave now.”
The atmosphere in the room grew tense when they didn’t.
“I’m under the impression that you’re merely suggesting we leave,” the soldier said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And we are suggesting speaking to some of your students.”
Donghoon gave you a look from right next to you, and you can read what he meant as clear as day. ‘Can you fucking believe the nerve?’
“I will not allow my students to follow you out of my classroom and away from my supervision,” Instructor Shin said. “What you need to say to those students, you will say to everyone in this room.”
“You’re difficult, aren’t you?” the soldier said.
“As are you,” she replied. “Well? Don’t waste our time, now, soldier. Share with the class what was so important that you had to interrupt precious class time for.”
Another soldier stepped up, as if on cue, and pulled out a list from inside her stiff coat. “Lee Joonhee, Kwang Y/N, Choi Jangmi,” she read off in a monotone voice. Your eyes widened when you heard your name. “You have been selected as the top students in this cohort of the General Knowledge course. The Darlaean Army recognizes your excellent academic standing and would like to extend an offer to join our rigorous training program for adolescents. This is a valuable opportunity to strengthen your magic with future leaders of the army and prepare to fight for your nation to defeat our common enemy. Congratulations on your selection and we await your decision to accept.”
You could almost hear the ‘I told you so’ that Donghoon didn’t say but was most definitely thinking.
There was also a deafening and painfully awkward silence that followed after the soldier’s speech. It seemed like everyone was staring at you, Joonhee and Jangmi. The other two were practically bathing in the spotlight, but you suddenly felt the need to duck down and hide from the unwanted stares.
The bigger issue, though, was the fact that the soldiers still hadn’t left the classroom. Did they expect the three of you to decide whether you would accept on the spot? And if so, how would you let them down politely but firmly? It was really no question that you didn’t want this. Why the hell would you want to uproot your perfectly fine life at Botswana to join some training program that would inevitably make a soldier out of you? The last thing you wanted was to become involved in the war. So why were they acting as if this was a wonderful opportunity for you? War was where you went to die. How could you set yourself up for death when you had yet so much to accomplish?
“I accept!” Joonhee announced, interrupting your thoughts. “I happily accept, sir.” He saluted dutifully. “Thank you!”
You and Jangmi glanced at each other.
“I’d like some more time to decide,” Jangmi finally said.
You could feel your heart beating in your head. Now all eyes were on you, awaiting your answer, and you hated it. You didn’t owe the army anything, so why was it so damn hard to say no? You could also use Jangmi’s answer to stall for some time, but that would mean they’d hunt you down later to get a definitive response. Should you keep your rejection short and simple? Or did you need to explain yourself to keep them from getting offended? But then again, why would you care that they’ll be offended? They were clearly not-so-great people, disrespecting Instructor Shin in front of her own students! Yes, you should simply reject them. They’re used to curt replies, you assumed, taking orders from right and left, so it couldn’t hurt them if you declined their offer.
With a deep breath, you collected the strength to finally give your response. But it came out as a loud, flat, echoing, “NO.”
The sound of your own voice startled you; it also seemed to startle many others as your classmates stared at you in what you thought looked like disbelief. But it made sense. You usually never spoke so curtly, and you surely never had a reason to raise your voice. You were immediately scrambling to explain yourself. “I-I mean, no thank you… sir. I mean, sirs. I-I would… I would like to focus on my studies.”
“Very well,” the throat-clearing prone soldier said. He didn’t sound disappointed, though he did still look mildly annoyed from the encounter he just had with Instructor Shin. He and the two other soldiers saluted to no one in particular, and they finally exited the classroom.
When the heavy white doors slammed shut, loud chatter uptook the room. You and Donghoon watched as everyone else began to swarm around Joonhee.
“Why did you accept so quickly?”
“Are you going to drop out of Botswana?”
“Do your parents know?”
“Your parents are going to kill you!”
“Quiet!” Instructor Shin yelled in a voice so loud it echoed in the commodious room. Silence. Everybody scrambled back into their seats. Instructor Shin sighed as she gripped the edges of the marble podium. “I apologize for the distraction and for my harsh behavior. As you may already be aware, things are shifting here at Botswana Agate Academy. The army is looking to expand, and they would like to join hands with Darlae’s brightest. You will learn more about the war once some new courses are approved. I’m afraid it won’t be anything like Darlaean History, for those of you who enjoy that course. Things are changing, indeed…” She sighed again, shaking her head. “But for now, we will continue our lesson, students. And Joonhee? I’d like to see you after class.”
Everyone ooh-ed.
Donghoon rolled his eyes but you frowned.
“What do you think she held him back for?” you asked Donghoon as the two of you walked out of Instructor Shin’s class.
“Probably to warn him about the army,” Donghoon said, shrugging. “Let him go for all I care. He’ll become General one day.”
“Do you think Jangmi’s going to end up declining the offer?”
“Maybe,” Donghoon said. “I’m not sure. Her parents are scholars like yours, though, so they’ll probably never let her go.” He turned to you with a smile on your face. “But good for you for yelling their rejection to their faces.”
“I didn’t mean to yell!”
“Well, you did, Y/N,” Donghoon laughed. “They’re delusional if they think you’d ever join their stupid little fistfight club.”
“I just think it’s crazy they singled us out,” you said. “It must be some sort of strategy. You know, to make us feel special and accept their offer. They made it sound so grand, too.”
“It’s all bullshit,” Donghoon snorted. “Let’s hope they don’t follow you around, though. I’ve heard they’ve been doing that to a few upperclassmen.”
Donghoon’s hopes, unfortunately, didn’t come true. By the time you were back home from the academy for winter recess, your parents had a stack of letters from the army waiting for you in your bedroom.
“Honey?” Ma asked, a crease on her forehead. “Have you been getting involved with the army?”
“No,” you said, sighing as you threw the letters in the trash. “I’m just on their radar.”
“Their radar?” Mother said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s that pathetic Head Instructor of yours. Money-hungry pig.”
“Eunbi…” Ma said gently.
“It needs to be said,” Mother replied curtly.
“I’ve just been… Well, I know you haven’t been able to be there for my past Consultings, but I’ve been doing well at the academy,” you said, though admitting it feels a little strange. “I received an invitation to join their rigorous training program for adolescents. But don’t worry!” you quickly added after seeing your parents’ faces. “I declined.”
“They don’t take rejection well, it seems,” Mother snorted. “A couple of soldiers have been showing up at our doorstep and asking for you.”
“They have?” you asked in shock.
Ma nodded. “But once we move, we should be left alone for a while. ”
“Not unless they’re so desperate they find our new address,” Mother said, shaking her head.
“Move?” you asked, eyes widening. “Why are we moving?”
You’ve lived in this home for as long as you can remember. How could you let go of the cozy living room with its infinite number of reading nooks? The tall windows, the emerald green carpet, and the security of your room—you didn’t want to leave it.
You caught Ma giving Mother a worried look, and Mother cleared her throat. “Well…” She sighed. “Y/N, as divinist scholars, Sura and I make sacrifices to continue our research. You know that, don’t you? Recently… we have realized that our finances have been…” She searched for a word. “Bare.”
“Bare?” you repeated. Are we poor? you wanted to ask.
Ma answered anyway. “We’re not poor yet, sweetheart. We’re just a little in the rough, that’s all.”
“Sura and I have got it under control,” Mother said. “We’ll sell this home and move into a smaller one.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Ma said with a smile. It looked strained.
Your heart sank.
It was something to worry about. Your parents had been researching their entire lives, but they had never been close to bankruptcy. It dawned on you rather quickly that the only reason they were struggling now was you. You and Botswana Agate Academy.
“I can drop out,” you offered. As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted it. What if your parents agreed? What if they did pull you out of Botswana? The palace-like architecture, the beautiful classrooms, dining hall, dorms… The endless knowledge in the grand libraries… Hell, it was like a second home to you. Your very own fairytale. Donghoon would also be absolutely livid that you were able to leave before him. And what about Instructor Shin? Your unconditional supporter? She would be so disappointed.
“That’s not an option, Y/N,” Mother said, to your surprise. “You will finish your education—whether it’s in divination or not.”
“Yes,” Ma agreed. “We couldn’t ask you to make sacrifices, honey.”
You didn’t argue against that—you didn’t want to.
But it still hurt a few circas later when your parents greeted you at the new doorstep of a significantly smaller home. The roof was battered, the walls a little tattered. There were no more bookshelves, so the books stacked up like pillars supporting the low ceiling. It was a one-room home, with no more reading nooks, no more windows and barely any natural light. The emerald green carpet where you’d taught yourself color-shifting was nowhere to be found—sent off to the 8th city to be sold for extra notes.
Your parents acted as if nothing had changed, however. And by that, you meant they were still a little distant, their noses buried deep in their books. It was almost as if they didn’t notice the change in the surroundings. But it was evident that they had lost weight. And it was hard to watch them hunch over and squint to read the small text in their manuscripts in the dim windowlessness of your new home.
If you were more adept in alchemy, you would’ve helped them remodel the home, but permanent shifts to larger items were something that even the best alchemists struggled with. It was also around this time when you realized that even after the argument you had with your parents earlier this year, they really, truly loved you. They wouldn’t be starving themselves, living in a small shack with no lights and bedrooms if they didn’t care. It pained you inside to think that you ever doubted them. How could you ever think that Instructor Shin was your only unconditional support when your parents had splurged the entirety of their finances on you? The guilt ate at you alive, and momentarily, your performance in the academy dropped as you processed your revelation.
“Something is bothering you,” Instructor Shin said, pulling you aside after the Advanced Alchemy lecture. Her face was stoic, yet her tone was gentle. “Are the soldiers harassing you?”
You shook your head. The soldiers have already moved on from you and Jangmi, having found older and more talented students to prey on.
“You haven’t been paying attention,” Instructor Shin said, but it was without disappointment—as if she was merely stating a fact and delicately probing you to answer why.
“I’m sorry, Instructor Shin,” you said, looking at your shoes.
Instructor Shin gave you a look that you could not discern. “Final examinations are approaching,” she said. “Try your best.”
You nodded, though you were unsure how you were going to concentrate on your studies in the lavish libraries of Botswana Agate when you knew your parents were at home skipping meals to fund your schooling. When you made it out of the classroom, the grand doors shutting behind you, Donghoon was immediately by your side. He must’ve been waiting for you.
“What was that about?” he naturally asked. “Did she tell you off because your rank dropped twenty places?”
You shook your head. “It wasn’t really a telling off…”
Donghoon raised his eyebrows. “Really? Not even a little scolding?”
“No… She seemed worried.”
“Well, did you give her something to worry about?”
How could Donghoon, the son of the rich Head Instructor of Botswana Agate Academy, understand the financial struggles of a meager divinist scholar family? And besides, if you told him that you were poor, he might try to help, and you would never want to burden him in that manner.
So you shook your head again, forcing yourself to smile. “I think you’re rubbing off on me, Donghoon.”
He snorted in laughter. “Thanks,” he replied, though he didn’t look like he fully believed your lie. “I’m on a mission to become the worst student ever admitted to this damn academy.”
Then three days later, two weeks before final examinations, Donghoon managed to drop out.
Well, dropping out wouldn’t be quite the right words; he was expelled. It took Donghoon almost one entire school year to realize his horrible marks weren’t enough of an excuse to convince his father to allow him to quit the academy. So he simply took another route and threatened to obliterate the most important artifact in all of Botswana: past Head Instructor Jeon’s alchemy miracle, the wine glass created from nothing. Donghoon was just seconds away from smashing the glass in front of everyone in the dining hall when his father ran in, completely red and breathless and expelled him on the spot. Donghoon left swiftly, having already packed his bags a week prior. It stung just a little that he didn’t really say goodbye, but maybe that was a good thing. You didn’t think you could’ve handled any more sadness.
Losing a friend took a toll on you, and that, stacked with worrying about your parents, stressed you so much that you missed an entire week of classes. It was only two days before your first final exam when you realized that moping around pitying yourself was something that the hero of your fairytales would never do. How pathetic! What happened to the girl who wanted to make an impact? The little girl who one day wanted to be a hero? Why was she crying over a friend who was now much happier? Why had she stopped studying when her parents sacrificed so much to put her in this academy?
You realized then and there that doing your utmost best in Botswana would be one of the biggest ways in which you could repay your parents—at least attempt to, for you could never truly repay what they’ve sacrificed for you. And so, in less than 48 hours, you crammed circa’s worth of information into your brain and practiced your alchemy skills until no end, forgoing sleep to do so. You managed to do decently on your exams, though not as amazing as you would’ve done had you never gone through a slump, but the recovery made you proud of yourself.
And as if there had been no hiccups at all, life ambled on.
Your third year at Botswana was much busier than the last two. You were juggling more difficult classes, along with two part-time tutoring jobs and another one as Instructor Shin’s Intro to Alchemy teaching assistant. The pay wasn’t outstanding for any of your odd jobs, but it allowed you to alleviate a bit of the financial burden off of your parents’ shoulders. You still managed to find the time to visit Donghoon occasionally, too. He had set up a nice little tea shop in the 8th city and loved to serve you his newest loose-leaf creations. Sometimes, he’d make his assistant watch over his shop and take you shopping around the 8th city—the two of you had never lost your penchant for clothes since Fashion Studies. You rarely bought anything, though you one day dreamed of owning closets filled with an assortment of fancy gowns and elegant petticoats.
You didn’t quite need to purchase clothes, either. You owned two pairs of the academy’s uniform, which was sufficient enough. And fabric was cheap in the 8th city’s mini-markets, so you purchased those in increments and shifted them into your desired designs. The shifts for larger pieces of clothing were only temporary, considering the expanse of the fabric and the complexity of the design, but after some trial and error (and an embarrassing number of sleepless nights), you were able to permanently shift scarves and gloves for your parents just in time for the winter.
Little by little, your alchemy skills grew.
Color-shifting and size-shifting were now considered elementary in your more advanced courses, and it was now expected of you to be able to shift the colors and patterns of items permanently. Examinations often tested the longevity of your color-shifts, which was at times nerve-wracking because it took days of waiting to see whether your charms worked the way you intended them to. Size-shifting from small to large items, and vice versa, was still a difficult task, and it was tested less often as even more experienced alchemists struggled with turning a pencil into the size of a bed. And masking was not tested at all, for it was out of the scope of what Botswana Agate could teach its young students. But that never stopped you from attempting to master it; you would inevitably learn it in Aven Quartz, anyway—hopefully, you’d have the finances for it.
So you began small, masking quill pens into tulips, masking goblets into bowls. The masking never quite lasted, but the fact that it worked in the first place was a miracle. You sought extra guidance from Instructor Shin, who was more than delighted to help. And by the middle of your third year, you were comfortably able to mask smaller items for an hour (or two if you were lucky). It wasn’t good enough for you, but it was good enough for your instructors, who informed you of your high rankings time and time again during your Consultings.
What always fueled you to push yourself further was the memory of your mothers when you first visited your new home two years ago. Their thin faces, the cramped single room, the missing furniture, the low ceiling, their backs hunched over, them huddling over dim candlelight to read their books… You were determined to get them out of the situation that you had caused them. It felt like it was your duty—a noble thing to do as their only child. And it would require you to be quite an accomplished individual.
Your alchemy skills weren’t the only thing going through rapid changes in your life. There was also Botswana Agate, though you weren’t too sure if these changes were for the better. Head Instructor Kim approved several new courses, if you could even call them that. No true knowledge was being dispensed in those mandatory classes—only military propaganda. A new academy uniform made its debut as well, looking suspiciously similar to the dark attire of the Darlaean soldier uniform: jet-black with silver and purple stitchings and a belt that cinched in the waist. It became difficult to differentiate between student and soldier, and now everyone looked like soot against the pristine, white walls of Botswana Agate. The changes were only slightly irritating, especially when you happened to run into Joonhee in one of those indistinguishable uniforms and you were unsure whether he dropped out of the rigorous training program for adolescents or if he became one of those annoying soldiers patrolling the halls of the academy.
“Hey! Y/N!” he said, a little too amiably for someone who was never too kind to you before. “Hey!” he said again, jogging over to catch up to you. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
You wondered why he was greeting you so warmly. But upon closer look, you realized that he was, indeed, wearing the Darlaean soldier uniform and was probably looking to recruit you for the damn training program once again. You could come up with an excuse and run away or pretend you didn’t even hear him, but that felt a little mean. What if he genuinely wanted to catch up? Maybe he volunteered to be here because he missed Botswana and his friends. But you were never his friend, so why was he seeking you out? Nevertheless, you could never be so rude as to turn a person away.
“Hi, Joonhee!” you said with a smile. Upon closer look, Joonhee seemed a lot older now, although it had only been two years. He was taller, obviously, nearly towering over you in stature, and he had his hair slicked completely back, which accentuated his high cheekbones. He’d lost the chubbiness in his cheeks and had a heavier look in his eyes. But perhaps that was due to the dark circles. You wondered if he spent many sleepless nights in the army. You would imagine so, with all that death and treachery around you, how could you go to bed? “Um, how’s the program going?”
“Really well,” Joonhee answered, shoving his hands in his uniform pockets. “I volunteered to station here for a circa or two just to say hi to everyone before your commencement next year. I’ll be busier then, so might as well visit now. Plus, they don’t let us soldiers in at Aven Quartz just yet.”
“Oh, busier, how?” you asked.
“I did well on my last several showcases,” Joonhee explained. “So they’re going to step up my training. I’ll be fighting in the war by the time I’m 16 or 17.”
“Fighting in the war…” You couldn’t comprehend how casually he said it. In just a few years, Joonhee would be risking his life for Darlae, but you simply couldn’t understand why. He was a perfectly fine student with a bright future in academia ahead of him. Why did he choose to leave? It was a question that you would likely never know the answer to—you simply weren’t close enough to him to ask, and you didn’t see yourself growing closer to him anytime soon.
Joonhee nodded with a solemn look of duty on his face. “Fighting in the war,” he repeated. “Hey, listen. I’ve been trying to find Donghoon around here. You’re still close with him, right?”
Immediately, you tensed up. “Do you… need to tell him something?”
“Yeah. I was going to apologize,” Joonhee said. “I was only 12, and I was a fucking ass to him and a lot of other people. I know better now. Gotta represent my nation and everything.” He said this very proudly, jutting out his chest.
You’re pleasantly surprised. “Oh, that’s really nice of you, Joonhee. I can relay the message to him since he’s not here anymore. He dropped out. Er, I mean, he was sort of expelled.”
“By his own father?” Joonhee raised his eyebrows.
You nodded. “Yeah, it happened two years ago, a bit after you left, actually. A lot’s changed.”
Joonhee agreed. “A lot has…” There was a bit of an awkward silence before he decided to speak again. “Anyways, are you going to the showcase later this circa? I won’t be one of the judges, but I’ll be somewhere in the audience.”
Was this his smooth way of getting you to think about joining the army?
You shook your head. “They’re not mandatory anymore, and I’ve been busy with classes and my part-time jobs…” It was the truth, although it also sounded a bit like an excuse. But around three circas ago, the showcases were briefly made mandatory, until the fourth years refused to attend classes for two circas. Head Instructor Kim had no choice but to reverse the decision. If he hadn’t, you and the rest of the student body would have been forced to sit through nearly four to six hours of showcasing every circa, which meant watching every single Botswana Agate student put on a display of their skills in front of a row of Darlaean soldier judges, only to be given a numerical score. You would much rather get ahead in your classes or help Instructor Shin grade a few more papers in that time.
“Oh, that’s fine,” Joonhee said. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you or anything. But if you ever have time… You know, just check it out. They’re offering money to high-scorers now.”
“Money?” you asked, though a little too eagerly. Embarrassed, you tried to play off your interest in surprise. “I mean, that’s crazy. I didn’t ever think you guys would offer compensation.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty new,” Joonhee said. “It’s a good amount, too. About 50 jungs.”
Your jaw dropped open. “50 jungs???” That’s enough to fund half a year’s worth of tuition! If you scored well on two showcases, that would mean you would be able to attend your fourth year at Botswana without financial worry. If you scored well on three showcases, you would have a profit! The image of your parents hunched over in their dimly lit home, thin and weary, flashed in your mind. 50 jungs would not be enough to buy a new home, but it would be enough to take care of several hearty meals. Possibly a few bookshelves as well.
“Yeah,” Joonhee said. “You should think about it. You were always good at alchemy. I bet if you walked in and showed them some of your masking, they’d be sold.”
You weren’t sure how he found out about your masking practices, which meant somehow, the Darlaean soldiers were still watching you, but it didn’t really feel like it mattered in the grand scheme of things. You now had a shot at winning a generous sum of money, which would solve most, if not all of your problems. And besides, your participation in these showcases was not binding whatsoever. You were never going to enlist, no matter how many showcases you happened to attend.
“Thanks,” you told Joonhee. “I’ll… yeah. I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”
“Tuition at Aven Quartz is more expensive, you know,” Joonhee suddenly said, which made you raise your eyebrows. “And they haven’t allowed showcases there yet; possibly never will. Just something to think about.” Before you could even react to his words, Joonhee saluted you. “I’ll see you around, Y/N. Talk to Donghoon for me, will you?”
He marched away, leaving you slightly conflicted and confused. Just how much did the Darlaean army know about you? You thought you were off their radar, but it seemed that they were quite well-versed with your financial situation, which was strange because you never told anyone about it—not even Donghoon. You weren’t sure if you could trust them, but money was money and you needed it. Your parents would thank you, right? You were only doing it for them.
With the next showcase almost an entire circa away, you had more than enough time to prepare. And you did so in secret, hoping that none of your friends would find out—in fear that they would get the wrong idea. If the Darlaean soldiers knew you were capable of masking, they would naturally want you to showcase it. So you stayed overnight in the academy’s libraries, reading up on the extensive possibilities of masking, which led you down the rabbit hole of alchemy’s origins. Most of it was a reiteration of what you learned in Darlaean History in your first year, but your research enlightened you with some new information as well. The term alchemy used to refer to the transformation of chosen items into gold, which was the reason Darlae became the prosperous nation it was today. Before the war and the blockade, Darlae’s 2nd city was dedicated entirely to alchemists, and they would spend day and night turning things into gold, which would then be sent off to the 1st city to trade with vendors from other nations. Now, the 1st city was a base site for the army, and the 2nd city was where talented alchemists resided to create nasty charms for the war. As Darlae developed, alchemy became a broader type of magic, which encompassed all things transformation, and the true act of alchemy—turning things into gold—grew obsolete as gold became monetarily useless. But true alchemy was a difficult task regardless, as documented in every book you got your hands on, which made you want to achieve it more than ever.
You practiced relentlessly in the privacy of your dorm. When you weren’t studying or working your part-time jobs, you were exploring the works of true alchemy, which was even harder than you knew it would be. There were many failures, and many points where you wanted to give up and showcase something much simpler. But when you reached those low points, you mentally scolded yourself. How could you be so selfish, thinking about giving up and living in such a lavish dorm with your parents having sold their beds and now sleeping on the hardwood floor? You were doing this for them; you only wanted them to live comfortably, as they had done before your rash decision to attend Botswana Agate Academy to escape them. And perhaps this was the impact you were meant to make in the world—to care for your parents when they forgot to care for themselves.
It sounded rather selfless, yet deep down inside, you wondered if saving your parents from their financial burden would finally get them to look your way. If this showcase was going to be a pivotal moment in your complicated relationship with them, you were certainly not going to dawdle. You were going to perform with no regrets.
And so you did.
After nearly a circa’s worth of sleepless nights, of sacrificing a minor bit of study time to practice your showcase, you gave an unforgettable performance. At least, you assumed it was unforgettable. The theatron went completely silent the moment you turned that metal spoon into a golden one, and not a single person in the audience clapped. You stumbled off the stage, your ears ringing and your legs feeling wobbly. It had all happened much too quickly, the judges announcing your name, the shining lights in your face, perspiration dripping from your brow and making your hands all clammy. It was only after you were halfway down the hall from the theatron’s exit that you heard the roar of applause.
It made you nearly trip over the air.
You had done it.
After so many failed repetitions, you had managed true alchemy! Your ears were still ringing, and the world felt as if it was spinning. Your accomplishment didn’t feel believable. Even up on that stage, you remembered, though it was hazy, that you would’ve been simply content with turning that silver spoon into bronze and hope those in the audience had bad eyesight.
You had to tell Instructor Shin! She was always the first person you sought when you reached a new alchemy milestone. But… that didn’t feel too right today. If you told her about your success, she would question why you had been dabbling in true alchemy in the first place (since it was such an obscure practice), and unable to lie, you would tell her you participated in one of the showcases. You could imagine the disappointed look on her face. She would lose her trust in you! Another one of her students lost to the Darlaean army! And oh, if she found out you were convinced to participate because Joonhee recommended it… You might as well never return to your assistant job.
But despite your worries, you still somehow ended up in Instructor Shin’s office, where she offered you a nice glass of iced water mixed with fresh mint leaves.
“A hot day today, isn’t it?” she said.
She must’ve been referring to your hot and sweaty face.
“Y-Yes,” you agreed, though she didn’t know that you had to imagine you were in a hot, pressurized inferno to transform the metal into gold. That, and the fact that you were nervous to talk to her, in fear that she would find out what you had done.
“I’m glad I ran into you in the hallway, Y/N,” Instructor Shin said, sipping on her own chilled glass of water while sitting at the edge of her marble desk. Your heart began to beat faster in your chest. Was she going to ask why she spotted you coming from the direction of the theatron, where the notorious showcases were held? You began to come up with all sorts of excuses in your head, though you knew that your execution would be horrible and you might as well have told the truth from the beginning. But before the worst of your thoughts could consume you, Instructor Shin continued. “I wanted to tell you”—you held your breath—“that I recommend that you apply to Aven Quartz Academy now, one year earlier than normal.” The glass in your hands nearly slipped. “I’ve discussed with your past and current instructors, and we have come to the consensus that Botswana does not have much to offer you anymore, Y/N. I—we— would rather that you move further along in your academic journey than stay here in classes filled with material that is review. I am more than willing to write your recommendation letter.”
Of course you’d love to apply early! That was all you ever wanted—to follow the natural scholar’s pace and study at Aven Quartz. You didn’t need to think much harder. “Oh, thank you!” you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement. “Instructor Shin, I—”
Tuition at Aven Quartz is more expensive, you know.
You froze momentarily.
And they haven’t allowed showcases there yet; possibly never will.
Oh no.
Just something to think about.
Thanks to Joonhee, it was something to think about, indeed.
If you applied to Aven and were possibly accepted, that would mean your parents would have to pay the impossible tuition, more than double what they currently paid for Botswana. Your parents would have to sell the shack and live on the streets of the 11th city, foraging or begging for food! And there were only two more circas left until the end of your third year, which meant that even assuming you excelled in the rest of the showcases, you would still barely be able to afford half a year’s worth of schooling at Aven Quartz.
If what Joonhee told you was true, and Aven would never have army showcases, you would never be able to help your parents pay for your tuition. Even if you stayed one extra year at Botswana, forgoing Instructor Shin’s offer to apply to Aven early, you still wouldn’t save enough money to comfortably pay for schooling at the sister academy.
“You’re in doubt,” Instructor Shin said, her red lips pressing into a thin line.
You hung your head low. “I… I’m just…” You didn’t know how appropriate it was for you to tell Instructor Shin about your financial situation, especially if she wouldn’t be able to change anything about it.
“Talk to me,” Instructor Shin said. “There must be a reason for your hesitation.”
Of course there was a reason. But you had never been one to divulge others of your private matters.
“Y/N,” Instructor Shin tried again. “I cannot help if you do not tell me what is wrong.”
She did make a fair point. But how could she possibly help? This was between you and your parents! Yet Instructor Shin had helped you along at the academy for nearly three years now. She was practically your mother in Botswana. And what if she could help? What if you were underestimating what she could do?
“My family…” you began, your voice coming out much smaller than expected. You sipped your water, clearing your throat afterward. “My family is tight with money,” you told Instructor Shin. “My parents have been working hard just to pay my tuition here in Botswana, and I… Even I’ve been trying to work odd jobs to help. Aven Quartz is so much more expensive, and Instructor Shin, I… I don’t know what to do.”
For the second time in nearly three years of knowing Instructor Shin, her stoic barriers melted away, and she looked genuinely sorry. “I understand,” she said sympathetically. “Thank you for sharing, Y/N. Though I believe no amount of words and wisdom could convince Head Instructor Kim to lower the tuition at Botswana, I do believe it is a possibility at Aven Quartz. I am in good relations with the head instructor there, so I may pull some strings.” She paused, seemingly thinking of the right thing to say. “It would certainly be a pity for our nation to lose another talented scholar. I’ll do what I can. Meanwhile…” Instructor Shin trailed off, and you could sense that she was heavily debating on whether to say something. Finally, she sighed, tapping her fingers against her desk in deep thought. “But tell me, what do you want to do with your future, Y/N?”
You momentarily panicked. You hadn’t expected her to ask such a broad question! It felt like some sort of test—as if your answer would dictate how much effort she would put into helping you. But then another, possibly worse thought, occurred to you.
What if she knew? What if she knew that you were coming back from a showcase? What if she thought you were considering the army? Was that why she suddenly asked you to apply early to Aven Quartz? Was that why she was willing to go as far as to contact Aven’s Head Instructor to reduce the cost of your tuition? Was that why she was asking what you would like to do with your future?
When you hesitantly looked up at Instructor Shin, her sharp eyes pierced right into yours, and in them, you saw inexplicable omnipotence—as if somehow, she held all the knowledge in the world. For a second, it almost felt as if she was a divinist. But of course she would find out what you’ve done. Her words rang in your ears: it would certainly be a pity for our nation to lose another talented scholar—and her unspoken words as well—to the Darlaean Army. How could you ever think you could hide it from her?
And your future? Nearly three years ago, hell, even as a young child, you had it all figured out. Just like those protagonists in your novels, you were going to make a change, leave a mark somewhere, anywhere. You were supposed to extinguish the flames once the world was doused in them. Only now, that desire to make a change, that desire to be a hero, has manifested in your desire to change your parents’ living situation.
“It’s all right if you do not know,” Instructor Shin said in your silence. “Not many of your age are sure of their futures.”
“But I think I do know,” you said, though it came out as more of a whisper. “I want to make a change.” You were painfully aware of how naïve that sounded, but it was the truth. This was what has motivated you for as long as you can remember.
If Instructor Shin found your future aspiration to be callow, she did not show it. Instead, she nodded. “I will support any direction you decide to take,” she told you. “And I trust that you will make good choices.”
Her words echoed in your head even after you left her office, and they followed you as you slipped under your plush covers in your dorm.
I trust that you will make good choices.
But what if every choice felt like a bad one?
A single day after your showcase, there was a knock on your dorm door. You weren’t exactly expecting anyone, so it was an interesting surprise to see two students—no, two Darlaean soldiers—standing before you.
“Hello,” you said, unsure of what to expect.
They saluted in response, which puzzled you even more.
“Kwang Y/N,” the shorter one said while saluting, “you received a near-perfect score at your showcase the other day.”
Your eyes widened. In your own daze at accomplishing what you believed was nearly impossible, you had completely forgotten to stay to hear your score! Were they angry at you for leaving without dismissal? Did they come to scold you and tell you that your showcase was now invalid? “I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly,” you said, but it came out a little desperate. “I-I was nervous and I—”
“No need to apologize,” the taller soldier said, shaking his head. “We would like to let you know that the judges believed your performance was exceptional. And once again, the Darlaean Army would like to extend you an invitation to join our rigorous training program for adolescents.”
Oh.
They weren’t angry at all.
They only wanted to recruit you… Again.
Your mind began drowning in your options.
Either choice felt like a bad one: applying early to Aven Quartz and putting your parents in deeper debt (despite a reduced tuition) versus staying in Botswana to make more profit from the showcases and still putting your parents in debt. Yet, joining the training program was possibly the worst choice out of them all. How could you make the change you wanted to make when you were dead? What could you possibly get—what would anyone possibly get—out of you being in the army? Nobody in your life—except perhaps Joonhee—would approve. The idea itself was so preposterous that you couldn’t even consider it an option!
You’ve rejected the offer before. You could surely do it again, and this time, it would be easier as there would be no crowd of curious peers staring at you.
“I’m sorry,” you said with a shake of your head. It felt good to stand your ground. “Unfortunately, I’m not interested.”
“But—” the taller soldier began, yet he stopped himself. “Very well, then,” he said with a sigh. You were partly surprised at how easily he relented. “But our army has never seen a showcase like yours before. Just wanted to let you know.”
The two soldiers left you in peace, which was what you wanted since you opened your door and saw them. You thought that was a done deal, and you could go on your merry way to figuring out what the hell you were going to do with the two options you had left. But it turned out that you weren’t completely off the Darlaean Army’s radar. Exactly 24 hours after your encounter with the soldiers, there was that same knock on your door.
Were they back to convince you to join? Were they going to threaten to not give you the money from your showcase?
You were slightly nervous but a little irritated too. Why couldn’t they respect your decision? It wasn’t like you—a single 14-year-old—could really make a difference in the entire Darlaean army, so why were they being so persistent? Was it due to ego? Did they believe that no one could possibly resist an invitation to fight for Darlae?
The thought increased your irritation, and you swung your door wide open, ready to somewhat politely give these damn soldiers a piece of your mind. But your plans dissipated when you made eye contact with a serious-looking man outside your door. He was older than any soldier you’ve seen so far and was tall and slender, with a high nose, downturned lips and glinting eyes that seemed to stare into your soul. His army uniform was uniquely adorned with silver shoulder epaulets, and a beautiful round opal decorated his belt buckle. The man exuded a quiet confidence, and that, coupled with the fact that his uniform looked high-ranking, suddenly made your brain turn to mush.
“Hello,” he said, his voice much deeper than what you expected.
You stared.
Then, realizing you were being rude, you squeaked a delayed, “H-Hello.”
“I am Lieutenant General Son,” the man introduced himself. “Pleased to meet you, Y/N.”
You weren’t very familiar with army rankings, but his title contained the word General, which was enough to make you realize you were face-to-face with a very powerful individual. Your palms began to accumulate sweat, and you nervously fiddled with your trinket behind your ear. “N-Nice to meet you too. Sir,” you added in haste. Your eyes glanced behind the man and to the hallway, hoping that none of your peers happened to walk past in fear of rumors spreading that you were beginning to consider joining the Darlaean Army. You weren’t sure if you should invite the man into your dorm; that felt a little strange, for he was a complete stranger. It was also exceedingly peculiar that the Lieutenant General of the Darlaean Army personally sought you out. You decided to keep the conversation where it started, the door frame creating a border between you and the army official.
“I was told you have now twice refused to be a part of our training program for adolescents,” the Lieutenant General said. “Why is that?”
Your eyes widened. “Oh, I-I… Sir, I…” How could you respectfully tell him that you want nothing to do with the army?
“Your parents are divinist scholars as I understand,” the Lieutenant General continued, saving you from responding to his own question. “I suspect you’ve been conditioned to think quite poorly of the army.”
You stuttered, unsure whether to accept or deny his statement.
“And that is fine,” the Lieutenant General said. “I do not care what the scholars think of us. A nation cannot develop properly amidst a war. I’m sure you already know. Darlae may be rich in resources, but our scholars’ research will never see the light of day until the blockade is over and our 1st city is restored.” His eyes pierced into yours. “If you choose the army, Darlae will thrive from your contributions and your accomplishments will be tangible.”
Of course he came here to sell the army to you. That much was expected. What was unexpected, however, was the fact that he brought up quite a good point. It was true that scholars’ research was not the nation’s priority. Your work—if you did become an alchemist scholar—would be buried amongst the hundreds of other research manuscripts until the war was over. But then again, there also wasn’t much longevity in becoming a soldier, and you wanted accomplishments that would last. If you died on the battlefield, the only contribution you’d make would be becoming fertilizer for the soil. It was an overwhelmingly dark thought—that Donghoon would often joke about—but there was truth in it. You’d rather die knowing your work could be uncovered someday, instead of being a casualty count in a textbook decades later.
The Lieutenant General nodded in your silence. “I will save my compliments and further persuasion. I’m sure you’ve heard enough. Allow yourself time to ponder. I want an answer in three days.”
With that, he handed you a crisp envelope from inside his uniform jacket, and before you could ask what it was, he turned and walked away. You stared at the back of his head, processing the encounter in your mind. It didn’t seem like he was trying too hard to convince you to join the army—if that was his plan. He had left relatively quickly too. But perhaps he was busy. If he had given you the opportunity, you would’ve refused him on the spot. Now you had three days to come up with a kind way to reject the offer.
Sighing, you closed the door, sliding up against it and staring at the thin envelope in your hands. It was shut with a dark violet wax seal with the royal emblem stamped on it. It was no secret that the army was heavily funded by the royal family, but you never thought they’d make it so obvious. Carefully, you tore the seal open, half-expecting to see the money you won from the showcase. But instead, you found a single sheet of creamy paper and on it were a few words handwritten in black ink. You frowned. What had to be written that could not be said out loud?
Y/N,
A payment of five thousand jungs and ownership of a new home in the 12th city will be contingent upon your agreement to continue with the program. Consider it wisely.
Lieutenant General.
Your jaw dropped open.
Five thousand jungs was more than enough to buy a new home from your parents. But they were offering a new home for you regardless! And in the 12th city! This was everything your parents had ever wanted. One could only be invited to live in the 12th city, and this was the invitation! Your parents could officially become royal divinists. Their lifelong dream would come true!
But… at what expense? This was obviously a bribe, which you were unaware that the Darlaean Army was capable of doing, for you’ve never heard of a story like this. Perhaps they were better at hiding things than you thought. Still, you didn’t understand. You’ve rejected them twice before. Why would they come back to you a third time? Was your showcase truly that remarkable? You would be but one single soldier! They probably sacrificed hundreds of soldiers per week, so why did it matter that you joined their training program? Wouldn’t you simply be a casualty to them sooner or later? A number reported to the higher-ups?
Accepting the offer would mean doing away with all of your parents’ problems. It would also mean creating new problems for yourself. You would have to give up becoming an alchemist scholar. You’d have to give up Aven Quartz. Hell, you could kiss your friends goodbye; no sane Botswana student would accept the fact that you’d seriously consider joining the army. And though Instructor Shin told you that she would trust any decision you were to make, she would still be disappointed.
You were in desperate need of brutal wisdom, to help you snap out of delusion—if you were in it—and there was only one person who you knew you could count on.
“Y/N!” Donghoon greeted you as soon as you stepped into his tea shop. He rolled down his sleeves and jogged toward you with a grin on his face. “Fancy seeing you here! It’s been an entire circa!”
He was right. The last time you saw Donghoon, it had been to tell him Joonhee’s message, and he had simply shrugged it off, saying he never cared too much about Joonhee anyway.
“Hey!” you smiled, though it was a little hard to with so much on your mind. “Is this a good time?”
“Did something happen?” Donghoon asked, raising his eyebrows. He knew you too well.
“Um… kind of,” you replied.
“Let’s hear it, then,” Donghoon said. He pulled up an extra wooden stool to the coffee table and sat down, gesturing you to do the same across from him. So you did, unsure of how you should start your story at all. “Whatever it is, it’s giving you frown lines,” Donghoon snorted. “Spit it out. You know I won’t judge.”
Somehow, you felt like he would.
“It’s about the army,” you said.
Donghoon sighed. “Those bastards are still harassing you? Here, I’ll help you come up with effective ways to make them regret ever messing with y—”
“N-No,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s… Well, you know about the training program, right? The one they wanted me to join back since you were still in school.”
“Yeah…” Donghoon said, cocking his head. You could tell he was unsure where you were going with this. It made you want to tread lighter than before.
“Um… I…”
“You’re not actually thinking of doing it, are you?” Donghoon accused. His tone was sharp, and you were immediately struggling to defend yourself.
“N-No! I’m… But I’m just… I don’t know, I feel like I should consider the option at least.”
“Why?!”
You struggled to remain calm. “They’re offering me a lot of money. And a home in the 12th city.”
“All for you?” Donghoon frowned. “They told you that they’ll give you all that if you join?”
You nodded, pulling out the letter for proof.
Donghoon glanced at the words on the cream paper and shook his head. “You can’t do it, Y/N. You can’t become one of those bastards. Your life will be filled with blood and gore and death! Do you really want someone else’s guts on your hands?”
Even the thought made you want to hurl. “Of course I don’t! But…”
“This can’t possibly be about your parents, Y/N. They’re shit people!”
“They’re not!” You didn’t mean to yell, but it hurt to think that someone who had such a horrible father still believed your parents were just as bad. “They’re just busy!”
“That excuse works from time to time. Not every year since you were born!” Donghoon exclaimed. “They’re trying to bribe you, Y/N. Don’t you get it? You’re probably the most talented scholar they’ve ever seen. Why else would the fucking Lieutenant General come to see you himself? But you can’t bargain with your own life to make your parents happy! Let’s face it, Y/N, what have they done to deserve it?”
Anger flashed through you. “They’ve been living in a shack for two years to pay for my tuition!” You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “I’m sorry for yelling, but they care more than they let on, Donghoon.”
“So you’re just going to waste your talents in the army so you can repay your parents?”
“I’ll never be able to repay them. I was off frolicking in the fancy halls of Botswana while they were starving and sleeping on hardwood floors, Donghoon.”
“I don’t get it.” He shook his head. “You could’ve asked me for help. I can still give you the money you need.”
“You know I hate being a burden.”
He sighed. “I know… But don’t do it. You’ll figure out a way. Do you want to work part-time at my tea shop? The pay’ll be amazing.”
“Donghoon, I just need advice. Is it really such a bad idea? Maybe… I don’t know, maybe I’ll be able to make an actual change if I’m in the army. Even if I did become an alchemist scholar one day, my work would probably be buried because of the war.” You didn’t know why you were starting to defend the idea of joining the army. It felt wrong, especially to do in front of Donghoon.
“Of course it’s a bad idea,” he said as expected. “It’s a fucking horrible idea, that’s what it is. They’re going to turn you into a killing machine. They’re going to make sure violence is ingrained in your body. You won’t ever be the same again. They’ll have you become their puppet! You’ll fall for their propaganda! They’ll have you thinking that the Solarians are the scum of the earth!”
“But is that true?” you asked.
“Why the hell are you asking if it’s true, Y/N?” Donghoon said, exasperated. “How can you question common sense? Have you actually fallen for their propaganda already? How long have you been considering joining their training program?”
It hurt that he was accusing you of these things, and the pain caused you to react before you could think. “You don’t understand how it feels to not have money! You don’t understand how humiliating it is to even think about asking others for help. You don’t even understand the stress I’ve gone through just to keep myself in school. You wouldn’t get it at all because you’re fucking rich and you dropped out!” As soon as those words left your mouth, you regretted it. “Donghoon, wait. I didn’t mean—”
“Go fucking join the army, then.”
“W-What?”
“If money is more important to you, then go throw away your dignity. I don’t care. Go be like Joonhee and waste your talent.”
“Donghoon…”
“Maybe you’ll become the General of the fucking Army one day.”
“It’s not money that’s more important… This is about my parents.”
“You don’t owe them anything.”
“How can I not owe them anything?” you said. “Look, Donghoon, I’m not saying I’m going to join the army. I just… It’s a lot of money. That plus the new home in the 12th city… And I’ll be learning alchemy during that training program, but I’m being paid to do it! You have to understand that logically, all signs point to me at least contemplating the offer.”
Donghoon shook his head. “It already sounds like you know what you want to decide.”
“No, I—”
He abruptly stood up, cutting you off. “I would never even consider accepting an offer like this. But maybe it’s meant to be. You’ve always liked carrying your trinket around.” He glanced at the baby blue feather pinned to your hair. “If you’re going to be directly involved in the perpetual circle of violence between the two nations, then we should go our separate ways.”
Your heart sank. “Donghoon…”
“I don’t serve soldiers in my tea shop,” he said. “You can leave.”
Tears began to well up in your eyes. “I never said I was going to do it…”
He gave you a look that questioned your words.
You shakily stood up, lingering at the coffee table, unsure if you should really leave. If you went now, you would most likely never come back again. Donghoon has never tolerated anything involving the war; as soon as you even so much considered the idea, he’d already pulled away. But Donghoon seemed content with breaking up your friendship as he had already rolled up his sleeves and had begun working behind the counter again. It was as if the two of you hadn’t had a conversation at all.
Confused and hurt, you slowly stepped out of the tea shop, vision a little blurry from your tears. The more you thought about your lost relationship with Donghoon, the faster you began to walk, hoping to leave the sadness behind you. Before you knew it, you were running, though you could barely see ahead of you. Your quill trinket threatened to fall out of your hair, so you ripped it out and held it in your hands, not caring in the slightest that you were wrinkling the feather.
A sob left your mouth as you sprinted across Botswana’s empty corridors. Maybe you shouldn’t have yelled at him. Maybe you should’ve thought before reacting. Maybe you should go back and apologize. But your legs refused to stop, and you continued to run—though you didn’t know where—until you ran into somebody, nearly losing your grip on your trinket. If they hadn’t grabbed your arm with impressive reflexes, you would’ve tumbled back. When you looked up, hastily wiping your tears away with your uniform sleeve, you saw Joonhee.
He frowned, letting your arm go once you regained your balance. You were too out of breath to apologize. “Are you okay?” he asked.
All you could do was shake your head.
He didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he offered you some water and a handkerchief, which you gladly accepted. By the time you finally calmed down, you and he were sitting at the edge of Botswana Agate’s marble fountain—the same one that was trashed in protest when Head Instructor Kim announced the curriculum changes (that were really just army propaganda). Your trinket, though a little wrinkled and now its original shade of ugly gray, was safely pinned back behind your ear again. Joonhee sat silently, waiting for you to speak, though he most likely had hundreds of other tasks to attend to. Starting to feel a little guilty that he was wasting his time in silence with you, you blurted out a question that happened to cross your mind at the moment.
“Why do you want to fight in the war?”
Joonhee turned to you, eyebrows raised. “That’s a loaded question. Have you got the time?”
You nodded. “Three days, in fact.”
He looked confused, but he didn’t question it. “I mean, I hate the Solarians, so naturally, I’d want to… you know, do away with them, I guess. But it’s a lot more than that, too. As a soldier-in-training, I get to represent Darlae. I get to fight for our beliefs and our pride, and I would die trying. You know, besides the 10th and 11th cities, people are actually proud to be Darlaeans. I think it’s because they don’t have their damn noses stuck in books all the time. They live in reality. They right the wrongs and take action when needed. That’s how I see it. I’d rather be out there fighting for my nation than fester in research that’ll be forgotten about when I’m dead.”
Death… You felt too young to be contemplating it. Sometimes it didn’t even feel real that you could simply cease to exist. The thought was terrifying, and you didn’t know how Joonhee was so content with it.
“But won’t you be forgotten about if you die on the battlefield?”
Joonhee thought for a moment. “Have you ever read The Wisdom Tree?”
Though you were confused why he offered such a topic change, you nodded. “I think I read it once when I was young, but it was a little too dark for me.”
“Well, I grew up with that story,” Joonhee explained. “The main character sacrifices his life for someone he loves, yet he is never forgotten. His lover makes sure his name is never lost in history. Plants a sentient tree in his honor, and the townspeople forever seek advice from that tree when faced with difficult decisions. Hence, the title. But yeah. I trust my comrades to carry on my legacy if I die, and they trust me to do the same. You can die and still be a hero,” he said. “I’m willing to put my life on the line for a chance at a warless Darlae. Shouldn’t that be our priority? Ending the war?
“You know, when the blockade’s over, I want to explore the world. See what else is out there. Think of all of the books of different cultures and languages that I would find. I could go back to learning. Real learning. Not being cooped up and being fed outdated information because the nation doesn’t have enough funding for the academies. Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll even publish a book of my own.” He turned to you, an amused look on his face. “Shocked?”
Of course you were shocked. You always assumed he volunteered for the sake of fighting, though you realized now it had been a horrible misconception. It was hard to believe that Joonhee’s the same age as you (a few circas older, though) when in fact he was starting to sound like the damn Wisdom Tree himself. You wondered if he gained this wisdom in the army.
You can die and still be a hero.
Why did you never consider this? What was this odd comfort that washed over you?
Has the scholar community been wrong all along? Maybe soldiers didn’t crave violence. Maybe they craved to be heroes. And what was so wrong with that? Wasn’t that who you wanted to be?
“People die out there,” Joonhee said. “We all know that. But it’s never a waste. No one dies without purpose. Every soldier who falls on the battlefield brings us one step closer to winning the war.”
“You’re not afraid?” you asked.
“Afraid of dying?” Joonhee shrugged. “Not really. But maybe my sentiments will change when I go to battle in a few years. I’m pretty stubborn, though. I think I’ll survive.” He turned to you with no particular expression on his face. “You’ve got three days, huh?” he said. “I’d say let everything sink in. You’re smart. You’ll make the right decision in the end.”
What do you want to do with your future?
Come to think of it, you’ve never really had a clear dream. It was always about being a good person—someone undeniably altruistic and kind, who helped anyone in need, like the heroes you grew up with. For years you believed that to be a hero, you were required to be present for whatever big change you ignited. To be a hero, you believed that you were guaranteed to survive.
But that didn’t have to be the case.
You can die and still be a hero.
Of course death was still an opaque subject, but this realization gave you another option. If you were really going to make a difference in the world, if you were really to become some sort of hero, you were going to have to make sacrifices: first for your parents, then for the future people of Darlae—for the scholars who dreamed of a real education, for those who wanted to explore the world, for those who wanted a peaceful kingdom. If those sacrifices led to your demise… Well, it didn’t seem like the end of the world anymore. I’m willing to put my life on the line for a chance at a warless Darlae.
What brave words. You wished you could say the same thing with even half of Joonhee’s confidence. The truth was, you were still terrified. The war always felt like it was an untouchable force, something that no matter what you did, would never go away. But things were different now. You could make a difference. Every soldier who falls on the battlefield brings us one step closer to winning the war. Those words stirred something inside of you.
Perhaps it was a sense of responsibility, a sense of duty. A real hero would die trying to fight for what would help their loved ones. A real hero wouldn’t care if their fight ended in death, as long as something was changed. A real hero would be selfless and brave and kind.
Gone was your prejudice against those who volunteered for the army. They were human too, not just violent people who joined for a taste of blood. They were aspiring heroes. Just like you. They wanted to right the wrongs, even if they ended up dead because they trusted their comrades to carry on their lives. It was so valiant, such a grand gesture that it made your heart beat faster thinking about it.
And the more you thought, the clearer your future became.
It was obvious the choice you had to make.
So when the Lieutenant General came knocking on your door three days later, you were prepared. There was not a waver in your voice, not a single doubt when you uttered the words:
“Yes, sir. I accept.”
You didn’t know what to expect as a reaction, but you should’ve known it wouldn’t be very reactive. The Lieutenant General only nodded, his expression unreadable. “Welcome to the Darlaean Army, cadet.” His dark eyes glinted. “You will begin in one week.”
In a singular week?
That didn’t leave much time.
You only hoped your parents wouldn’t be too angry.
“I believe we’ll be reacquainted on the training grounds,” the Lieutenant General said. “When that time comes, cadet, I expect you to salute when you see me.”
You nodded, standing up straight and half-ready to salute him now. “Yes, sir!”
You nervously entered your single-room home in the 11th city. Your parents were sitting in the dark, hunched over their books again, right where you had left them circas ago. You felt a little sick. If they reacted the way Donghoon did, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.
“Mother? Ma?”
Your parents turned around, their hollow faces half-obscured by the darkness of the room. Ma was the first to speak. “Welcome back, sweetheart!”
“Did we miss the end of the school year?” Mother asked, setting down her book and blinking heavily as if the light that streamed in when you opened the door blinded her.
“No, I came back on my own accord,” you said. “Actually, I, um…” Already, things weren’t going the way you imagined. You struggled to find the right words. “There was a showcase at Botswana several days ago,” you began carefully.
“Showcases are military propaganda, Y/N,” Mother said, standing up with wobbly legs. Her back never stood straight and she stared at you behind full eyes. “I hope you didn’t participate.”
You gulped. “T-They were offering 50 jungs for the best performance.”
That seemed to put Ma out of her weary trance. “They were? Oh, honey, did you do it?” There was a hopeful lilt to her voice, and you hung onto it, in hopes that they would forgive you for making a choice without their input.
“Of course, Ma. I, well, they liked my performance so much that they um, once again offered me a spot in their training program for adolescents.” The information spills out of you quickly, before your parents can even react: “They’ll be paying us five thousand jungs and have already invited us to live in the 12th city.”
“Five thousand?!—”
“Live in the 12th city?!”
Mother shakes her head. “Y/N, why would they offer you so much?”
Even you were unsure of the exact reason.
There was a bit of silence. It seemed like neither of your parents knew what to say.
Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, Mother spoke. “Is this… Is this what you want, Y/N?”
“Yes, honey, do you really want to become a soldier one day?” Ma chimed in.
They didn’t seem angry or upset, just puzzled.
“I do,” you said. “I really do.”
“Well…?” Ma looked over at Mother, who had harsh frown lines all over her forehead.
“You’ve already accepted, haven’t you?” Mother asked.
You began to play with your trinket in your hair. “I-I did… Are you mad?”
“No,” Mother said. “Only surprised.”
“You’d finally be appointed as royal divinists,” you told your parents, worried that they were still wary of your decision. “And we’d get to move out of this home and into a much nicer one in the 12th!”
“Yes…” Ma said.
Your parents looked at each other, and maybe it was because you weren’t very close to them, but you couldn’t discern what they were wordlessly saying. You weren’t a divinist, after all.
If they suspected that you only accepted the offer for their sake, they didn’t make it obvious. They never even asked what you performed for your showcase. Didn’t even ask why you had such a sudden change of heart. Instead, they rather quickly packed up the little belongings that they had and moved one city over to the castle grounds—as if they couldn’t wait to get out of the 11th city. Soon after, your parents became appointed as royal divinists, their lifelong dream coming true, and you became a young soldier-in-training, your dream of attending Aven Quartz long forgotten.
Everybody at Botswana was surprised when you left. Some even questioned the sanity of your parents, for what kind of scholars would selfishly allow their only child to die in the war so that they could work for the royal family? What kind of pathetic parents would use their children to achieve their dreams?
But your parents never had to hear these talks, and neither did you after a while. Soon, you and your parents settled into your new, magnificent home in the 12th city. The ceiling was unreachable, mahogany bookshelves towering over the other delicately-crafted furniture. Even the emerald green carpet was back, though it wasn’t the same one you grew up with. But the countless windows, reading nooks and candles brought you nostalgia, and you cherished the homely feeling along with your parents, who gained back the weight that they lost and looked much happier than before.
By the time you left for the castle grounds, it felt as if you’d lived in the 12th city all of your life—as if you left behind all of the bitter feelings towards the army in the 11th, where the scholars sat, forever reading their books and doing nothing about anything.
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⨰ a/n: behold the LONGEST lod chapter yet!! it took me over three months to write and edit :') hopefully you enjoyed this quick look at her early life! don't worry, jungkook will show up soon
please consider telling me your thoughts with a comment, an ask or a reblog :) i love hearing readers' impressions/rambles/predictions! if you want to join the taglist, send in a private message, ask, reply to this post or reblog with your request!
#jungkook fanfic#yoongi fanfic#yoongi angst#bts fanfiction#thebtswritersclub#btscreatorscorner#btsgoldnet#btshoneyhive#bangtaninn#houseofddaeng#bts fic#bts fanfic#yoongi x reader#jungkook x reader#bts angst#magic au#war au#bts series#bts fics#legends of darlaria#lod
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#bts icons#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook icon#jungkook icons#transparent icons#transparent icon#icon pack#jungkook abs#icons#icon#bts icon#armysource#btscreatorscorner#networkbangtan#ptd
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LIQUID STARS | jjk
pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)
genre: angst, smut
word count: 11.8k
summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.
playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine
warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting
note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ
side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!
Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for.
It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift.
Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too.
While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?
You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?
He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed.
How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—
Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight.
You couldn’t.
Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair.
His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words.
“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”
You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely.
“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”
Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis.
You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed.
“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.”
For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it.
He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—
“Let me kiss you, please.”
You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable.
Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?”
You exhaled, he inhaled.
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”
“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek.
He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in.
“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.”
Your body panics, but you will it to relax.
“Does that come with the premium subscription?”
Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps.
“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”
Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms.
“I get to take Bam?”
Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?”
Probably not. Definitely not.
“But what about Bam?”
He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words.
“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.”
You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell.
Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it.
It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—
“Deal.”
Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly.
“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows.
He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead.
You make a face as if you’re thinking about it.
Jungkook groans.
It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity.
You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back.
He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body.
You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers.
You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline.
And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it.
You want him.
It began with a ring and ended right here.
And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled.
The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss.
Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t.
And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago.
Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you.
“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper.
Jungkook grips your waist hard.
“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy.
“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples.
“Kiss me, then.”
You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—
When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth.
The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission.
You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step.
“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.”
He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles.
“Bam, house.”
The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that.
“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him.
He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.”
You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him.
“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists.
He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.”
A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?”
He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them.
You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list.
His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course.
You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.”
A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.”
Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting.
“You wanna know what made me hard for you?”
You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact.
“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?”
You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties.
“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.”
A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.”
He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.”
You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself.
The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him.
You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears.
No attachment, no liking.
Just sex.
There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm.
“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.”
You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted.
You broke him.
And now you have to face the repercussions.
Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal.
You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all.
There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.”
You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have.
Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it.
Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break.
The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in.
He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm.
No strings, no pain.
But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is.
“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid.
You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening.
He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning.
A lump forms in your throat.
“You sure about this?” he asks.
One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.
You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.
You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship.
Flowery or deceitful?
A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out.
“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.”
Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—
“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”
He blames himself, not you.
You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps.
“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.”
He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.”
His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened.
Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum.
He said it, so it must be so. You trust him.
The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun.
“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin.
The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing.
You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself.
“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long.
“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?”
He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice.
“Of course I trust you.”
“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.”
Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline.
“Are you scared?”
You’re an empty canvas.
“Not anymore.”
Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?”
“Okay.”
He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?”
The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.”
You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt.
Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set.
The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy.
Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks.
“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.”
Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie.
Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?”
Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?”
You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod.
Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child.
Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs.
Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red.
Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them.
You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach.
“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?”
Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.”
“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?”
You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy.
“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features.
You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good.
“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.”
Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens.
He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs.
There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you.
He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear. “How do you touch yourself?”
A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat.
Jungkook sees you.
“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer.
“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.
“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind.
When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—
“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax.
“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side.
He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise.
And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.
He stills the buck of your hips.
You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you.
“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”
You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.
“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.”
He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.
Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you.
Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around.
“Feels good, baby?”
His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.
“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.”
It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.
You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.
Jungkook stops your movements fully.
“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.”
His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring.
Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.
“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”
“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?”
You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted.
Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”
Obeying his desperate order, you do.
A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff.
“Did so well for me.”
The whisper takes you back and you awake.
You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good.
He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.
You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.
Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.
You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.
“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?”
You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change.
“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.”
For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.
Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.
And then he sinks them into your mouth.
His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy.
Happy to be wanted.
Good, because he said you were.
As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks.
He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration.
Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.”
You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is.
Musk, vanilla, wood.
The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout.
“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew.
Overjoyed. Overstimulated.
Heavenly.
“Good.”
A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?”
You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do.
You open your mouth, but no words come out.
Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.
“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos.
You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts.
It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully.
He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?”
You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.”
“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.”
You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number.
He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?”
You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.”
Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare.
He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him.
He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?”
You nod. “So bad.”
Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough.
“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?”
You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.
“I’ve never let anyone get this close.”
Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?”
Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.
“I watch a lot of porn.”
Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance.
You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth.
“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him.
He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again.
Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go.
The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge.
He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore.
Neither, evidently, can he.
“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands.
So vulnerable.
You ache.
You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head.
When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth.
You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets.
But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny.
He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—
Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head.
“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.”
Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan.
He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.
Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind.
And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin.
“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?”
With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it.
Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans.
“Talk to me.”
You can’t. You don’t know how to talk.
He stares you down.
No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling.
“I won’t play with you, then.”
Panic. “No.”
He cocks a brow at you. “No?”
Silence.
He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm.
“Jungkook.”
Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs.
“Beg.”
All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you.
Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
You groan in frustration.
“Be nice or—”
“Please, lick me.”
That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it.
“Where?”
A challenge. Your throat dries up.
“There.”
He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that.
“Try again. Last chance, little girl.”
The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone.
And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that.
“Lick my clit, please.”
A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.
“Like this?”
You choke out a moan.
“Yes, please.”
“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”
He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—
“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?”
Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.
“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”
Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.
Your Daddy.
You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.
“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.”
The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you.
And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens.
You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you.
Daddy and little girl.
Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.
Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls.
And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror.
You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat.
“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.”
He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell.
“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?”
Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin.
“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed.
He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth.
“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.
Your frown deepens.
“But what if it doesn’t fit?”
You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake.
“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.”
It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected.
Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him.
He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow.
There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head.
Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.
“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”
You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him.
“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.”
You nod, trusting him.
He pecks you. Smiles.
“How many orgasms are we at?”
You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”
Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.
A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?”
“You obliterated my expectations.”
“Just wait until I fuck you properly.”
You blush, eyes twinkling.
“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.”
Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad.
“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness.
But Jungkook grows solemn.
“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss.
Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.
“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”
Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.
“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel.
“I don’t stop coming.”
Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.
“And you finger yourself?”
You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.
“How many fingers?”
You scoff. “Just one.”
“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?”
You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently.
He didn’t break his promise.
Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides.
And there you feel it.
The sensation unlike any other.
He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts.
“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?”
Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.
You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms.
“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”
“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.”
He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—
Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come.
You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you.
“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?”
“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep.
“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.
Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much.
“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.”
Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam.
“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.”
“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.
“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.”
White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak.
“Please, come for me.”
Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?”
The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.
“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.”
And it’s the truth.
Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat.
Jungkook grunts.
“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.”
He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length.
And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.
And you swallow it all.
Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way.
He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all.
“Good girl. Good little princess.”
That you are. A changed person for all eternity.
“Is your tummy full?”
You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.
The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes.
And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.
“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”
What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.
© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.
BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three
#jungkook x oc#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook smut#bts smut#bts imagine#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook#bts scenarios#jungkook scenarios#jungkook fluff#btscreatorscorner#kpop smut#jungkook one shot
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hotter than hell | jjk. 04 (m)
banner by the lovely solaris @jamaisjoons <3
➵ summary: jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.
↳ part of the namkook moonrise masquerade collab hosted by @jamaisjoons
➵ pairing: fallen lucifer!jungkook x human!reader
➵ genre: supernatural/fantasy!au, romance, e2l, road trip, angst, fluff, eventual smut
➵ rating: 18+
➵ word count: 32k
➵ warnings: swearing, semi-accurate biblical depictions of angels and demons, fantasy-based story-telling, mentions of fear, violence & injury (minor), lots of emotional angst :(, tENSION, explicit sexual content, dry-fucking, heavy making out, petting, titty sucking, dirty talk, oral (m. receiving), throat-fucking, unprotected sex (wrap before tapping pls <3), massive dicc!jungkook, switch!reader, marking, GOOOD fingering, cum-tasting, breast play, bit of a size kink, pASSIONATE sex, slow/emotional sex, creampie <3
➵ a/n: last one before the final guys wHEW. please excuse any mistakes!! i was very burnt out writing this </3 i hope you enjoy and look forward to the final chapter 🥺💓 feedback is always appreciated <3
➵ playlist: collide by justine skye ft. tyga, middle of the night by elley duhé, i swear i’ll never leave again by keshi
| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | final. |
“What?!” You shoot up from your seat, in a complete state of shock—horror. “What do you mean he’ll cease to exist?”
Yoongi forces his lips together tightly, peering elsewhere. “Think about it, Y/N. He’s a celestial being, a fucking archangel. If he loses the one thing that makes him who he is, he’ll merely stop existing.”
“But how…” your heart feels as though it’s crushing your lungs, every beat of it suffocating you with wretched devastation. “What do you mean? He can’t just stop existing, he can’t!”
“He won’t serve a purpose to the celestial world if he loses his powers, Y/N, that’s how it works.” Yoongi explains. “He’s not just some second-rate demon, he’s Lucifer for fuck’s sake. Why do you think he even needs to return to Hell in the first place? If he doesn’t, he stops existing altogether. The Council won’t just let him frolic around on Earth as a human.”
You can’t wrap your head around this, you refuse to, tears collecting in your eyes. “No way, you’re fucking with me. There’s no way he just stops existing.”
Yoongi’s expression scrunches with confusion. “Y/N, what reason do I have to fuck with you?”
You frustratingly scoff, folding your arms. “Every reason, Yoongi. You’re a demon, you said it yourself—they’re twisted souls. How do I know you’re not lying?”
Yoongi tenses, eyeing you with disbelief. “Did you really just say to me? That’s a fucking low blow.”
Realizing your harshness, you swallow, opening your mouth to apologize, but Yoongi lifts his hand. “Save it, I don’t need your apology.”
You guiltily purse your lips once you observe his irritation, your vision falling to the windows out of embarrassment. Yoongi sighs before he abandons his seat, standing to his full height. “Listen, Y/N, all you need to know is that I’m not lying to you; he can’t escape his life. I already told you this is clearly a test for Lucifer, what makes you think his punishment for not passing won’t be grave?”
Acknowledging his reasoning, you shamefully absorb it. “I guess... so.”
“Exactly. He’s the fucking ruler of Hell, he doesn’t have the liberty to just abandon his position. Wrap your head around the fact that if he doesn’t return, he’s going to disappear, and he’s never coming back.” Yoongi forces you to face reality.
Your lips tremble, sight blurred by moisture. “I’m-I’m sorry, Yoongi.”
Yoongi regards you with slivers of sympathy, tonguing the inside of his cheek. “This is bad stuff, Y/N, really bad. Archangel problems are serious business, they’re not trivial. Whatever’s happening to Jungkook is grave shit; even if he returns to hell, who knows what he’ll face once he’s before The Council.” Yoongi warns you “They're his brothers, too, and they have a complicated relationship. So whatever way you feel about him right now, you need to squash it; none of this ends with him walking into the sunset.”
Heartbroken, you snivel like a scolded child. Tears begin to ceaselessly fall from your eyes, and Yoongi can’t just watch you. He walks over, wrapping a friendly arm around you as he pulls you into his chest.
You accept the comfort, the crown of your head resting against Yoongi’s heart. You can’t feel anything, all you know is unbelievable sadness. Jungkook can’t just... leave—he can’t. Why is this all so out of your hands? What grand punishment will he face by The Council?
Why can’t things end with him walking into the sunset? Why is he being tested like this? Why is his soul doomed to suffer this fate? He never wanted this, any of this, and even though it hurts you to know he’ll leave you, what hurts you more is the unfairness of what will happen to Jungkook—there’s so much more to him than all this fucked up shit.
“Please,” you beg, tone quavering. “Please tell me you’re lying, Yoongi.”
Yoongi rubs your back, the calm bass of his voice filling your ears. “I wish I could say I was, Y/N. But it’s true, I’ve seen it happen before—when a celestial being loses their purpose, they’re taken away for good. It’s the order of our world, it’s just how things are.”
“Why… why does it have to be that way? It’s so unfair.” You sob, hiding your tear-stained face in your hands.
“I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know.” Yoongi soothes you, gently patting your head. “But it’s just… how things are. When people want to defy someone, they look the devil in the eyes, don’t they? But who does the devil himself look into the eyes of? Those who put even his power to shame—people that never fucking change, no matter how unfair things are.”
Your heart sinks, dropping into the acid within your stomach. You never thought you’d hear these words. You never considered that the celestial world is funny enough, just like Earth—a place full of corruption, injustice and shoddy morals. Expecting better was a mistake, clearly, because no matter how Jungkook feels, he’ll suffer a fate that breaks your heart to even imagine. No wonder he only ever viewed himself as his job—why he despised it so much.
You think back to that ordinary day in the diner, when he finally opened up about himself, shared the true nature of his position in Hell. You could see in his eyes how much he abhorred it, how much it left him drained of who he was, because the Jungkook you’ve seen without the burden of his job has been so enlightening.
A free, fun-loving, spirited soul that craves to live, to experience the world he’s watched from the shackles of his throne in the underworld, wondering the many possibilities that await him.
How dare someone do this Jungkook? Who dare allow him a taste of what he could experience here, only to rip it away from his hands? How utterly cruel, how sick someone would have to be to grant him freedom, only to shoot him in the leg when he turns around to chase the sunset.
Does Jungkook know? Does he know that he would cease to exist? Does he know that his freedom was only the beginning of his end?
Or was he oblivious just like you?
“Yoongi… does Jungkook know?” Your voice is delicate, sniffling.
“Hm?”
“Jungkook… does he know that if he loses his powers, he’ll cease to exist?”
Yoongi separates from you then, searching your tear-stained features as he lingers on his words. He doesn’t speak, hesitating, and you figure out your answer.
“Oh my fucking god…” You step away from Yoongi, tears shaking in your eyes. “He knew… he fucking knew, didn’t he?”
“Y/N…” Yoongi gestures for you to calm down, but you’re as explosive as a hand grenade right now, and your trigger’s been yanked.
“No… no don’t you dare try to calm me down!” You point at him accusingly, betrayal beaming in your eyes—Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Y/N, I promise, it wasn’t to harm you–”
“You knew… you fucking knew too?”
“I swear I thought you knew, Y/N.” Yoongi attempts to pacify you, approaching you as though you're carrying a loaded gun. “I thought the bossman told you, that’s why I was surprised when you told me you thought he’d become human—”
“Well he didn’t, okay?! He didn’t fucking tell me!” You screech, disbelief washing over your entire system. Your circuits fuse, your heart shuts down, and your veins are clogged by gut-wrenching pain. You falter onto the couch behind you, staring at a wall emptily, into an abyss of nothingness. You can feel every piece of your heart shattering as you process everything, each shard puncturing your chest. “He didn’t tell me anything, Yoongi.”
Agony overcomes you then, lips quivering as you attempt to pull yourself together. But you can’t, you’re incapable of it, because nothing will make you accept this. Nothing will compel you to grasp that Jungkook’s fate ends in such a horrifying way.
Yoongi studies you carefully, flitting around all your features. Once he’s done analyzing, he speaks with shock. “Y/N… don’t tell me…”
You sniffle as you wipe your cheeks, meeting his eyes. “What?”
His feline-like eyes reflect extreme concern as he nears you. “Y/N, don’t tell me… you’re in love with him?”
Your heart jolts inside your chest, tightly clamping your teeth together. Your expression grows angrier, averting your eyes. There was no part of you that wanted to acknowledge something of that magnitude, not when your heart was already vulnerable. “No, I’m not.”
Yoongi sighs as he rakes a troubled hand through his hair, his tone laced with stress. “Y/N, you know I can detect sin. I know you’re lying.”
Fed up with all this celestial crap, you storm with denial. “Fuck you, Yoongi. I am not in love with him.”
“Then why are you so upset?” He retorts. “Why the fuck am I seeing you cry tears for Lucifer?”
“Because he’s not that bad!” You counter, tucking your arms over your chest. “You didn’t spend the time that I did with him, you didn’t see what I saw. He’s not the man everyone makes him out to be!”
“He’s not a man, Y/N, he’s fucking Satan! The devil!” Yoongi gesticulates, raising his voice to reach you. “Y/N, the faster you acknowledge whatever feelings you’re suppressing, the less it’s going to hurt when you face reality. Do you or do you not love him?”
“Fuck off, that’s none of your business,” you spit, avoiding meeting his eyes at all costs. “Don’t dictate this situation when you don’t even care about your ‘conceited, incorrigible king’.” You air-quote him from earlier, your anger suffusing you with no mercy for your tongue.
Yoongi’s brows climb at your audacity, humourlessly chuckling before zipping his mouth shut. He lifts his hands in surrender, stepping away. “Alright, Y/N, alright.” He throws in the towel, walking towards his jacket he abandoned on one of your couches. He shrugs it on, only flitting you a side glance—your eyes never connect, you’re too focused on fuming at the window of your suite with unbearable agony.
He shoves his hands into his pockets, almost stepping towards the door, until his conscience halts him. “Y/N… listen…”
“What?”
Yoongi grimaces at your cutthroat tone, tentatively wetting his lips. “We haven’t spent a lot of time together, but I can already tell you’re a great person. You’re a smart woman, you’re strong-headed, you’re kind, you fight for the people you care about.” He voices softly. “I get why he protects you, I get why he cares about you.”
His words ease some of your tension, nearly breaking into a puddle of tears.
“So when I say this, I mean it to protect you, to care about you, too.” He exhales gently, nibbling his bottom lip. “Detach yourself, Y/N. This only ends one way, and I know you know that. I know you know your reality.”
You tighten up, squeezing your eyes shut as a lump develops in your throat. Rivers of tears stream down your face, uselessly watching Colorado’s skyline. “Like I said, he doesn’t get to walk off into the sunset. Either he walks straight back to his throne in Hell and never returns, or he walks towards his execution.”
You swallow harshly when Yoongi’s grave tone permeates the air, speaking his final words that rip your heart to shreds. “And whether you love him or not, Y/N, won’t ever be able to change his fate.”
You hear Yoongi’s receding footsteps as he strides towards the door, your body shaking with uncontainable misery.
You dissolve into an ocean of tears when you hear the door click shut behind him.
4:27 AM.
You stare blankly at the alarm clock sitting atop a nightstand on Jungkook’s side of the bed—each minute that ticks by feels eternally slow. Sleep hasn’t visited you tonight, rather emptiness, a void that’s swallowed your chest to leave you lifeless. You sniffle as you drain the rest of your glass of wine—you knew nothing else would ease your mind.
A loveseat in your suite’s master bedroom is your current comfort as you sift through your befuddled thoughts. Jungkook’s still soundlessly asleep—he left you conflicted about staying by his bedside in the first place.
On one hand, your heart yearned to be with him, to savour what time you had left with him. On the other, you were screaming at yourself to sever your bond now, it’s better to plough through the pain than delay it.
In the end, he brought you ease, and so you opted with brooding here.
No words can describe what aches your heart; betrayal, anger, frustration, but also mourning, misery, agony. You could’ve choked on the amount of tears that trickled down your cheeks, pooling underneath your chin until they slid down your neck.
Yoongi’s words today left behind a scar too deep to remedy, an implication that left you utterly ravaged.
You were fucking in love with Jungkook.
You shake your head at the mere thought, laughing to yourself because of how absolutely tragic that is. You came to the realization in the four hours you’ve spent teeming here; each hour for a stage in the grieving process.
The first hour; denial. You sat there denying anything Yoongi had to say. Why the fuck would you be in love with Jungkook, of all people? He’s rowdy, obnoxiously suffocating, and the most arrogant brat you’ve ever met in your life. He drains your money like no tomorrow, takes up all the damn space in bed with his gigantic body, and humiliates you at every presented opportunity.
He gobbles up all your snacks, blasts intolerable music during your car rides and hogs all the Godforsaken towels with how much he showers. He’s a menace, inside and out, so what could possibly make you place your heart in his hands?
Then came the second hour; anger. Why would you love him when he so clearly lied to you? How dare he keep the fact that he’ll cease to exist from you? How could he let you craft a silly, childish narrative in your head about him becoming human like you? He’s gotten angry at you for things out of your control, he’s treated you like a nuisance enough times that you felt like wasted space, and he’s even said that he wishes he never met you. There’s no way you’d ever love an asshole like him.
The third hour; bargaining. This must be a mistake, right? You’re not in love with Jungkook, you just care about him. Any two people that have spent time in such close proximity, travelling together would become close. Besides, who says the way you feel about him has to be romantic? It can be platonic, too. He’s just a friend that’s tugged your heart strings with his devastating story, and now you care very deeply for him.
The fourth hour; depression. But, is Jungkook really a friend? Do friends kiss? Do they feel butterflies in their stomach whenever they talk, touch or look into each other’s eyes? Do friends get to third base and have prickling sexual tension? When you think about it, you can’t just be friends with Jungkook. It would rip you apart to learn that he views you as a mere friend when your feelings have flourished beyond that scope. They encapsulate an entirely different area that cinches your heart with an evident realization—a truth that you can’t spend the time you don’t have mulling over.
And now, here you are, in the fifth hour, experiencing the last stage of the process; acceptance. You’re irreparably hurt by the life-changing information today because… you’re in love with Jungkook. It’s unavoidable, your feelings have grown from a small spark underneath your skin to now engulf you in the flames of strong, undeniable love.
He’s infected your every vessel with himself—your mind ruminates with ‘what if’s’ of him, contemplating every scenario where he can find his happiness, where he finds it with you. Your heart beats with the intensity of your feelings for him, the sadness that will wash over you once he leaves you for good. Your body yearns for his fiery touch, his caresses and strokes that leave sizzling bouts of tension collecting inside the bottom of your stomach.
He leaves you desiring him in the most addicting ways.
You know this to not be his Lucifer powers anymore, they're fading by the day, and to think he’s at his weakest yet, here you are, with your feelings stronger than ever.
You pinch the bridge of your nose, attempting to subdue all these feelings as Yoongi suggested, but they only thrive. You determine in your last stage of grief that it’s wiser to let this all go, to let him go. You’ll accompany him to his celestial club as his truce, and watch him leave.
You’ll watch him leave without a single tear, without it tearing every fibre within your heart. You will be indifferent, utterly stoic—it’s just better that way. Being in love with him is stupid, pointless. Starting tomorrow, you’ll begin severing the connection. It should be easier now that you’ve discovered Jungkook knew all along the end of his fate, but purposefully kept it from you. He’s most likely only limited his feelings to the platonic kind—not romantic, to save himself the trouble anyway.
You’d been the only fool for love.
Sniffling, tears flood your vision, harshly wiping them away. You set your wine glass down and change for the night—you should catch some shut-eye before you both continue your journey. Chicago is about a 15-hour drive away now.
Shuffling through your belongings, you can’t seem to find a pajama shirt that’s clean in your suitcase. You kiss your teeth remembering your only remaining one was soaked by Jungkook earlier today—it’s just been sent to tumble about in a washing machine.
Sighing, you consider sleeping shirtless until you spot Jungkook’s suitcase. It was left open after Yoongi rummaged through it to change Jungkook. You spot a folded grey, Nike t-shirt of his—you don’t ever recall him wearing it.
You sigh, smacking your forehead—you can’t sleep shirtless when you and Jungkook are sharing the same bed, you’ll sob if you find your naked chest pressed up against his broad, muscular one.
Striding over, you unfold his shirt and slip it over your head—surely he won’t mind. It fits you massively, practically drowning in it. The fresh linen scent of his favourite fabric softener fills your nostrils, faintly smiling to yourself when you recall that laundry is his favourite “human activity”.
Embracing his t-shirt, you flit towards him slumbering peacefully in bed. He’s spread out like a starfish—he’s so endearing. He rests a hand over his abs as the other lays across your side of the bed. His thick, long eyelashes feather across the supple tops of his cheeks, his dewy lips cutely drawn together. It’s funny how his stunning sleeve of dark tattoos contrasts the way he adorably sleeps.
Reprimanding yourself for admiring him, you patter over to your side, gently removing the covers to climb in. You see Jungkook fidget when you plop down, scrunching your nose with concern.
You continue more delicately until he softly groans in bed, lifting his hands to rub his face. His big, beautiful doe eyes flicker open, lazily staring at the ceiling until they shift towards you.
You’re caught red-handed; why did he have to have the most endearing eyes in the world?
“Angel…” he wearily mumbles—his husky, sleepy voice leaves your legs squirming. He pouts as he snaps worn out looks at his surroundings, rising from his laid position. He rakes a hand through his thick, raven-black hair as he pries his eyes open, sitting up. You’re left stunned—the moonlight bounces off his smooth skin flawlessly, the shine of his sexy, ruffled hair utterly ravishing, even more so his tattoos.
His lip ring is particularly distracting when he speaks.
“Angel, what happened?” He pouts through his question—sleepy Jungkook is truly life-changing. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Almost six hours.”
Quirking a brow, Jungkook rubs his eye again, his voice rich with sleep. “What happened? I don’t remember a lot… did I get drunk?”
His inquisitive expression melts your heart, lightly chuckling. “No, you didn’t get drunk, you just…” Recalling exactly what you were doing when Jungkook passed out, your cheeks become incredibly warm, swallowing awkwardly. “You just fainted, is all.”
Jungkook draws his eyebrows together in confusion. “I passed out? Weird…”
“Yeah, Yoongi said it was your low blood pressure,” you inform, before lightly scolding him. “I told you to take care of yourself, Jungkook.”
His bottom lip protrudes with feigned annoyance. “I know, I swear I do it’s just… I don’t know what happened. All I remember is that I was with you, not much else.”
Growing more embarrassed, you cough away the memory of him slamming his clothed cock against your pussy—your sex inadvertently flutters. “W-we were just talking. Nothing important.”
You hug your arms around your knees, tucking them against your chest as you peer elsewhere. It’s a mistake, though, because Jungkook becomes eerily quiet. You find his eyes wide with shock as he observes your arms, horrified. Following his line of sight, you curse under your breath.
He’s found the bruises on your arms.
“Y/N, what the fuck?” Jungkook cusses, gently laying his fingertips across your wounds. “Who did this to you?” His voice sounds devastated, but you become defensive, jerking away from him.
“They’re nothing, Jungkook. I-I got them myself by accident.”
“No you fucking did not,” Jungkook objects. “They’re in the shape of hands grabbing you, and they’re way bigger than yours.”
Caught in your lie, you internally groan at this one time he decides to be perceptive.
“Y/N, I’m serious, who did this to you?” He pressingly questions, leaning in closer. He reaches out for your arms again, but you unfold them, tucking them by your sides.
“Nobody, Jungkook. I told you.”
“Did I…” Jungkook winces as he struggles to finish his sentence, meeting your gaze softly. “Did I do this to you?”
Mortified, your eyes immediately widen, shaking your hands. “No no no no no, not you, never. You did the complete opposite, Jungkook. You’re the one who comforted me.”
Jungkook releases a breath of relief, his hand tucked over his heart. “Thank God.”
You nod, pursing your lips.
“But still, who the fuck hurt you? I’m so serious, I do remember something happening to you.”
Sighing, your shoulders droop. “Just drop it, Jungkook. Get some more sleep.”
Jungkook’s expression twists into one of frustration. “Y/N, I’m not gonna fucking sleep until I know which bastard did this to you. Spill, now.”
Sensing the urgent demand in his tone, you finally acquiesce, hiding your lips behind your tucked knees. “ItwasamagenamedLeonardo.”
“Come again?” Jungkook leans in to hear you better—you hate that it makes his delicious scent waft in your direction.
“Damnit, Jungkook. It was some mage named Leonardo. I had some business with him and he—” You grimace recalling the memory, eyes avoiding Jungkook at all costs. “He grabbed me when he found out I was your human or something—he was going to kidnap me.”
You don’t even need to look at Jungkook to sense the anger that boils within him. You neglect him as a result, determined to stare elsewhere. His aura relaxes after a moment, however, and it captures your attention.
You find him sulking almost, eyes draped by his beautiful, dark hair, and his shoulders appear defeated. He suddenly extends his hand, beckoning you. “Come here.”
His soft tone leaves your heart constricting. “Why?”
“Just come.”
Reluctant, you shuffle over carefully, and the second you enter his bubble of space, his strong arms wrap around you, engulfing you in his hug. You’re surprised when your head fits perfectly into the crook of his neck. His scent invades you, and your head screams at you to push him away.
You should be severing your bond with him, not allowing it to grow. But, your heart is louder than your head, crying out for his comfort. You melt in his comfy, familiar arms. Your hands plant against his warm chest, nuzzling into his cozy body.
“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner, angel.” The rumble of his voice feels soothing, his mellow, beating heart even more so.
“It’s okay, Jungkook.” You assure him. “I escaped before anything else happened.”
Jungkook squeezes you tighter, his palm burying into your hair to cradle the back of your head. “Leonardo’s an old, powerful mage. He could’ve done terrible things to you, I’m glad you escaped.”
He lowers his head so his lips press against your forehead—he holds you like a precious, precious treasure. “I don’t want you out of my sight from now on, Y/N. Never. Things are getting dangerous.”
Exhaling a deep breath, your body eases. “Never, Jungkook.”
He strokes your hair for a moment or two, simply indulging in each other’s embrace. Jungkook pulls away after, his curious eyes darting around your body. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
“Oh–” you grab the center, peering at the gigantic thing swathing you. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I don't have any shirts to sleep in tonight. I hope you don’t mind—”
“I could never mind.” Jungkook fondly smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I told you you should wear my clothes more often, anyway.”
Recalling his confession when you were getting inked, a smile curves your lips. You bite them afterwards, sheepish in his arms. You hear Jungkook chuckle, finding his eyes swimming with… adoration? You could make it out, and your heart soars inside your chest.
But once you recall the gravity of your situation, your entire mood morphs itself. You clear your throat as you place distance between yourself and Jungkook, stuttering. “We-we should sleep. We have a lot of driving tomorrow.”
Jungkook tilts his head in confusion, no doubt at your behaviour, but he accepts it anyway, nodding. “You’re right, it’s way too early.”
You send him a half-smile before you get ready for bed, fluffing up your pillow. Jungkook suddenly groans in complaint next to you, grabbing the shirt he’s wearing.
“Ugh, no wonder I felt so hot.” He clutches the back, tugging his t-shirt off from over his head. He leans back with a relieved sigh once he’s shirtless, relishing in the cold air kissing his skin. “Ah, that’s better.”
Swallowing, you hate how delicious he appears as he reclines against the headboard, eyes shut with an expression of satisfaction. You avert your line of sight to stop yourself from ogling—his body never gets any less sexier.
“You… sleep better without a shirt?”
“Mm,” Jungkook nods, ruffling his hair as he tosses his shirt into his open suitcase. “I get too hot.”
Maybe because you’re scorching hot—you think.
“If it were up to me, I’d sleep naked. But I don't think an angel like you would be able to handle that, huh?” Jungkook condescendingly smirks—you scoff at his smug tone.
“You’re still annoying as ever even after collapsing on me?”
“Oh, so I fell into your arms? That’s a win in my book.”
Fed up with him, you roll your eyes before settling into your side of the bed, ensuring there’s the distance of a sea between you two—you’ll fold if his arms end up curling around you.
The devil merely chuckles at your reaction, his tone immensely amused. “You know, you can sleep without my shirt if it’s more comfortable.” He suggests, motioning towards his t-shirt on you. “I’ve already seen all of you.”
Your cheeks grow hot hearing him mention that. Embarrassed, you sink underneath your covers, concealing your lips. “No, I get too cold.”
A lovable smile frames Jungkook’s pretty lips. “And that’s why we sleep in the same bed. I keep you warm, and you keep me cool.”
You narrow your eyes at him, practically sneering, before grumpily turning away. “Whatever, go to sleep, demon.”
He fondly giggles before he lowers himself into bed, sheathing himself in the covers. He endearingly fixes the covers on you as well, tugging them higher—your heart races tirelessly at the gesture.
Praying to God that he doesn’t sling his arm around you, you let out a breath of relief when he doesn’t. He speaks, however, his voice mellow and calm. “Hey, Y/N.”
“Hm?”
“You know, you never told me what a pinky promise is.”
Resisting the urge to smile, you reply aloofly. “Why do you want to know?”
“I don't know,” you feel him shrug his shoulders behind you—is he facing your back? “I’m just curious.”
Pursing your lips, you shuffle around in bed, now facing him. He beams with a smile once your eyes meet, and your heart lurches—he was facing you. You tuck your hands underneath your cheek as he rests his head on his bicep—he gazes at you with his twinkling eyes, and you’re left utterly devastated.
“A pinky promise is just that.” You tell him. “It’s a way we humans make a promise.”
“Teach me.”
Furrowing your brows, you laugh. “Why?”
Jungkook pouts before you. “Why do you keep asking me ‘why’? I thought humans would understand curiosity better than any species.”
You open your mouth to counter him until you realize he’s correct—humans really are curious beings. You blow some strands out of your face to see him better, silently admiring his moonlit skin. When more hair obstructs your view, you poutily attempt to flip your hair again until Jungkook extends his large, veiny hand. He curls your strands behind your ear, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Tell me, angel.”
Swallowing at his gentle touch, you clear your throat rigidly, presenting him your pinky. “A pinky promise is a way to bind a promise—it makes it more than just words. If you break a pinky promise, you’re automatically lame—nobody breaks them.”
Jungkook’s lips fall into an ‘o’ of realization. “Oh, I see. So it’s like an… unwritten rule of thumb?”
“Yes,” you confirm. “It’s mainly something we used as kids, but some of us still use it. They’re sentimental, so most people never try to break pinky promises.”
“And how do you make a pinky promise?”
“Like this,” you wiggle your pinky, reaching over to intertwine it with Jungkook’s. You can’t help the bright smile that climbs up your lips—your pinky is miniature compared to his. “Now, we make a promise. Anything you want.”
“Hmm, a promise…” Jungkook ruminates. You could see his gears shifting, his eyebrows drawn together in deep thought before an ‘ah-hah’ moment hits him. He smiles charmingly when he meets your gaze, shuffling closer—he squeezes your pinky. “I promise… I promise I’ll always be there, Y/N.”
His sincere tone completely melts your heart, eyes softening as they regard him.
“I’ll always be here when you need me. Through anything; the good, the bad, the ugly. I’ll always protect you; I’ll always accept you as you are.”
His promise should’ve blossomed pretty flowers inside your chest, made your heart race and your mind frolic about with lovey-dovey scenarios, but rather, your heart breaks. Nothing could remedy the pain of knowing that Jungkook, in a way, was lying to you. He knows he won’t be here, whether it’ll be because he returns to hell or… ceases to exist—he’s lying to you.
How could he promise that? How could he look you in the eye and make a promise he’s surely going to betray? Part of you desires to call him out, to call him a lying bastard for hiding the truth from you, but the other part doesn’t want your last moments together to be filled with unresolved conflict.
So, you smile at him, still touched by his genuity. “I promise too, Jungkook. I’ll always be there, no matter what.”
It hurt you to promise that, to reciprocate the same words he doesn’t even mean. How does he feel right now? How can he wear such a striking smile on his face when he knows his fate? When he knows he’s lying?
Your head begins to ache considering this, tearing your finger away from his. You clear your throat and turn around in bed—seeing his lovable face right now is only making this worse.
“Goodnight, Jungkook.” you state coldly.
Jungkook remains skeptical, silent—you could feel how confused he is. But he nestles into bed anyway, and you thank the heavens.
“Goodnight, Y/N.” You hear him gently coo in the dark.
It isn’t a good night, however, because your mind ceaselessly spirals thinking about his fragile promise—and how he’s destined to break it.
“Alright, you guys have about 15-16 hours of continuous driving left in your trip. I say you drive halfway or at least, until nightfall and stop somewhere in between Nebraska and Iowa. I can hook you guys up with a place, I may know a friend or two.”
You and Jungkook attentively listen to Yoongi conduct your trip’s details as you and him rummage around collecting your things. The morning had been awkward for you—you woke up beside a snoozing Jungkook fitting perfectly around your frame, your head laying on his naked chest as his arms cradled you, his nose tucked into your hair. You internally screamed trying to escape his bear-like body—not waking him felt like mission impossible.
Nonetheless, you regained your breath once you fled, and successfully have kept your distance from him ever since.
“Yoongs, did you get that son of a bitch Leonardo?” Jungkook asks from across the room, tugging on a solid black t-shirt—you nearly choke when you watch him adjust the silver necklaces Yoongi ended up gifting to him. They looked deliciously sexy on him. “Can’t believe he’s still alive, fucking mages.” He curses.
“Yeah, I had some of my guys find his hotel room, roughed him up a bit. They’re just waiting for your orders, Your Majesty.”
Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek as he zips his duffle bag shut and heaves it over his shoulder, striding towards Yoongi. He transfers his things over, landing a hand on the prince’s shoulder. “Good. Now take my things and Y/N to her car downstairs, I’m handling it myself.”
Yoongi’s eyes widen in that instant. “But Sir—”
“It’s alright, Yoongi, you’ve done enough for me.” Jungkook eases him. “Thank you for looking after Y/N, means more than you think.”
Yoongi winces then, peeing elsewhere with shame. “I shouldn’t have let her go last night, though. She got hurt—”
“She got hurt because of that fucking lunatic.” Jungkook cusses, regarding Yoongi with assuring eyes. “It’s not your fault, alright? Now go, take care of her again for me. I trust you.”
You’re glad Jungkook’s being so kind with Yoongi. Yoongi presses his lips together and nods proudly, bending down to grab Jungkook’s things. You, on the other hand, become utterly confused, approaching Jungkook.
“Jungkook, where are you going?”
“Hell business.” He simply says, running a hand through his silky locks. “Go wait with Yoongi downstairs, I won’t be more than 10 minutes.”
“But what are you doing?” You become concerned—he better not be entertaining some sort of petty revenge, especially anything that requires him to exert himself. “You still need rest, Jungkook. You shouldn’t be doing anything too stressful.”
Yoongi motions to you both that he’s leaving the room—you and Jungkook send him a smile. Once he shuts the door, Jungkook faces you, his benign hands clasping your arms. “It’s alright, Y/N. I’m not doing anything stressful, I promise.”
You suspiciously narrow your eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Jungkook. I can already see in your eyes what you’re going to do.”
Jungkook purses his lips, exhaling in defeat. “You know me better than you should, huh?”
“Don’t do this, Jungkook.” You softly request, squeezing his tattooed hand that holds you. “It’s not worth it, please.”
“It is, Y/N.” Jungkook stresses, his expression resolute. “I’m not letting him get away with what he did to you.”
“But I’m fine, Jungkook.” You plead—you wouldn’t be able to stomach the idea of Jungkook harming himself for you, even if your bruises did hurt. “I promise. Please, don’t be violent and hurt yourself.”
“Y/N, you don’t know him like I do.” Jungkook argues. “He’s a disgusting old man that’s preyed on supernatural women for years. He uses them for spells, keeps them like slaves. He hurts them, and you can imagine what he does to human women.”
You grimace at the thought, nearly gagging. “I understand, but… I don’t want you hurt, Jungkook. Don’t do this.”
Jungkook softens at the sight of your pleading, cradling your cheek in his hand. He presses his lips together as he thinks, pensively twiddling his lip ring with his tongue. He finally sighs. “I’ll think about it, alright. 10 minutes, angel. Wait with Yoongi for me.”
Sighing, you obediently nod, a pout visible on your lips. Your fingers mindlessly reach out towards his necklaces—you begin toying with the one with a pair of dark angel wings. It’s the most intriguing charm; it reminded you of what his Lucifer wings may look like.
You meet his gaze with a longing look; Jungkook’s mouth fondly curves watching you, his tone playful. “What, can’t stand the thought of being without me for more than 10 minutes?”
You cringe, smacking his hand from your cheek. “Shut up, clown.”
“I know you’ll miss me, angel, but I’m already all yours.” Jungkook makes light-hearted kissy faces at you—you groan in frustration. Your palm lands on his chest to push him back—Jungkook’s smirk is to die for when he falters.
“I’ll be down to smother you soon. Wait for me.” He sends a promiscuous wink before he disappears through the door, and you swear you’ve never felt like kicking him more than you do now.
You wait with Yoongi for about 8 minutes before Jungkook joins you both downstairs. His skin’s slightly slickened with sweat, and his expression seems bright-eyed and bushy, as though adrenaline was pumping through his veins.
“Alright, guys, let’s get a move on.” He announces, rubbing his hands together as he eyes your things. He leans over and clasps your suitcase from you when you lift it, his smile striking as ever. “My lady shouldn't have to hold anything.”
Your cheeks become instantaneously warm. Your lips are framed with a fond smile as he works away, until your eyes catch Jungkook’s hands shutting the trunk—his knuckles are bruised, split open with deep cuts, and you know he didn’t listen to you.
Yoongi was right. At the end of the day, Jungkook isn’t just a man, he’s Lucifer, the devil himself—and the darkness that follows him may be something Jungkook can never escape.
“I think it’s this building…” Jungkook mumbles to himself, carefully peering over the dashboard to catch a glimpse of the building’s sign. He blows a raspberry as he fails, requiring someone shorter.
“Hey, angel.” He beckons you until his eyes dart sideways—you’re fast asleep in the passenger seat. Jungkook dotingly grins, chuckling even. “And she’s asleep.”
Reaching out his hand, Jungkook lightly casts away some stray strands of your hair—you’re far too adorable when you sleep. Jungkook drives the car with as little noise as possible, reversing into a parking spot.
He clicks open his seatbelt and visits your side of the car. He unbuckles your belt and lifts you bridal-style in his arms, carrying you towards your place.
You catch a whiff of Old Spice before your eyes flutter open, lightly groaning. The first thing you see is Jungkook’s handsome face mere inches from yours, gasping with shock. Your sudden awakening halts Jungkook from laying you down on a bed.
“Shit, Y/N, it’s just me.” He pacifies you.
Breathing more evenly, you nestle your hand over your heart. “Why were you carrying me?”
“You fell asleep; we’re at the apartment.” Jungkook motions towards the windows of your new place, and you’re shocked by spotting the night sky—it was as bright as day when you were last awake. Did Jungkook drive for nearly 9 hours? Usually you both alternated to let the other rest.
“Shit… I’m so sorry. You should’ve woken me up so we could switch, Jungkook.” Your bottom lip slightly protrudes.
“Nah, it’s fine.” Jungkook waves off, removing his hands from around your body.
“No it isn’t, you must be tired—”
“I’m serious, angel. I don’t mind at all, and I didn’t want to wake you.” Jungkook assuringly finalizes, and you let it go.
Attempting to subdue your guilt, Jungkook speaks up again. “One thing, though. I do need a shower—I can’t stand sweat.”
You almost open your mouth to jokingly welcome him to being human, but… you simply don’t. Your relationship with Jungkook needs to start changing now. No more joking around, no more teasing and becoming intimate or affectionate; it’s time to cut off whatever parts of yourself are attached to him.
Clearing your throat distracts you from the pain of the realization, avoiding his gaze. “Leave, then. I’m not stopping you.”
Again, it’s like you could feel Jungkook’s perplexion. He’s no doubt noticing the unfavourable switch in your behaviour, and it probably won’t be long until he questions you about it. Perhaps he can let you off the hook if you mention your period?
“Alright, I’ll be in the shower if you need me, then.” He confirms with a nod, stalking towards his suitcase to collect his toiletries before he shuts himself inside the bathroom—you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.
You observe the time on the clock beside you—it was 10:19 PM, not late enough to fall asleep, especially after your 4-hour shut-eye. Sighing, you contemplate how to fill your time—your eyes naturally study the layout of your current residence.
Thank God you both ran into Yoongi, he’s been a true blessing ever since. Yoongi informed you two that one of his band members had a cousin vacationing in Rome, and he didn’t mind anyone using his apartment.
It had a bedroom, a pristine lounging area with a TV, a desk, a roomy kitchen, and you couldn’t forget the french doors that led out into a balcony. Curious, you waddle over, turning the handle.
A pleasant night breeze caresses your skin once you step outside, enjoying it to the fullest. Your eyes are taken by the picturesque view of Omaha—its charming buildings and scenic greenery offer a sight to behold. The apartment was only located on the 8th floor, though it overlooked a fair amount of the urban life. Your features are struck with shock when you survey the right side of the balcony, however, and find the most pleasurable sight of them all—a hot tub.
Smiling triumphantly, you decide to soak yourself away, rummaging through your suitcase for a bathing suit. You glumly remember you didn’t pack a bikini considering a beach day didn’t seem feasible on your trip. Kissing your teeth, you shrug as you peer at your current set of underwear—it’ll have to do.
Stripping yourself of your clothes, you search for some towels and nab your robe, getting the hot tub running. The idea of soaking your tattoo felt wrong, you should wear something to protect it—even if it’s 80% healed with Jungkook’s powers, but you’re lazy.
Fuck it.
The lights around the ring of the tub brighten up the rather dark night, watching the water bubble as the jets heat it up. Once the temperature is amicable, you slip inside until your body is entirely submerged.
You let out a sigh of relief, sinking into the therapeutic water. Your mind circulates numerous, wistful thoughts for what felt like hours. The current stakes leave you overthinking, the cracks in your heart only growing larger with each contemplation of the future.
To think only the simple happenstance of meeting Jungkook has completely changed your life. Was meeting him serendipitous? Or a mistake like he said? You’d rather it be serendipitous, recalling the fluttery sensation he manifested inside your chest when you first laid eyes on him.
He appeared gorgeous in his slumbering state, occupying much of your couch. You remember kneeling beside him, cursing as you fumbled about treating his wounds, though couldn’t help but admire his stunning face.
It was with genuine fascination you faintly touched his skin—it was milky smooth, unblemished. Touching him ignited something inside your bones, unable to shake the feeling that he seemed… familiar? Was it his warmth? You couldn’t tell—he was sizzling hot, figuratively and literally. You kissed your teeth considering he may have a fever, scurrying away to nab a cold patch.
Now that you think back, perhaps you silently fell for Jungkook since the day you met him, and it’s only simmered underneath the surface until entirely boiling over. It colours you proud to consider how far you and Jungkook have come, but once you consider the pain that will replace your memories, you dig another inch of your own grave.
The injustice of this all still angers you, leaves you grinding your teeth until even that can’t satiate your desire to harm whomever caused all this. Jungkook’s situation is just too fucking depressing.
You lament over your own incapability again; why did you have to be human? If only you possessed the power to change Jungkook’s fate, you’d allow him the happy, fun-filled life he deserves, the freedom to experience it as he pleases, to enjoy the same pleasures you do as a careless, liberated human.
But he’ll never get the chance, because you really are inferior in the end—you only serve as an inconvenience to him. If he didn’t require a human to enter the celestial club, would he have even offered you to come? Would you have meant even a sliver of what you possibly mean to him now?
You shut your eyes as you lean back, squeezing away the tears that threaten to haunt you. You’re suddenly interrupted by the sound of the balcony doors—you wedge an eye open to observe your visitor.
Jungkook laxly strolls in with only a pair of black basketball shorts hugging his hips, his torso bare. There’s a shirt hanging around his neck, his damp locks sexily tousled—he’s fresh out the shower.
And he appears utterly delectable.
“Hey,” he greets you—you swallow away the dumb sensation in your chest when he stunningly grins.
“Hey.” Is your cold response.
“What’re you doing?” He endearingly tilts his head, approaching you. He reaches the outer edge of the hot tub, leaning over until his forearms find purchase on it—you fight for your life to avoid gawking at his biceps.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Mmm, fishing? Nope, I got it, sun-bathing.”
You roll your eyes at his sarcasm, shutting your eyes to relax in the water, but your raging thoughts and his heated presence make that incredibly hard.
Jungkook innocently chuckles. “What’s gotten into you, angel? You usually would’ve run your mouth.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, huffing your white lie. “Period, dumbass.”
“And you’re in the water?” He snorts. “I don’t think so.”
Recognizing your failure, you shamefully sink lower into the water, avoiding him.
Jungkook becomes concerned, his features softening. “Hey, angel, is there something on your mind?”
A fuckload of things, you gorgeous idiot. “No, there isn’t.”
Jungkook doubts you with a pout. “It doesn’t seem like that.”
“Then you’re blind.”
Jungkook’s eyes narrow in scrutiny, tonguing the inside of his cheek. “Are you okay?”
“Fucking peachy, demon.”
He only becomes more concerned, his tone laced with affection. “Angel, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. There’s nothing to hide here.”
His attentiveness ticks you off, reminding you that he’s an utter sweetheart at his core. “Nothing’s bothering me, leave me alone.”
“You’re acting weird.”
“How?”
“You’ve become more… hostile.” He gestures for emphasis.
“More hostile than usual?”
He grievously sighs. “Yes, more than usual.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Because I know you, Y/N.” He counters, his tone evidently becoming more pressing. “I know this isn’t like you.”
You scoff bitterly, looking away. “You barely fucking know me, Jungkook. Fuck off.”
You didn’t mean to say it with such hatred, but peeking at Jungkook tells you that it affected him negatively enough. You feel guilt twinge at you, but you remind yourself this is for the better; it’s for the both of you.
Jungkook dryly laughs, licking his plushy lips. “See, that.”
“What?”
“That was mean.”
You exhale slowly, shutting your eyes to bask in the water. “Being mean is my trademark, demon.”
He shakes his head in disagreement. “You’re not that mean. Like I said, I know you, angel.”
“And like I said, you don’t know me, Lucifer.”
Funny how Jungkook’s name, his angel one, usually resurfaces his brutal trauma, and yet, it’s the way you spit Lucifer that puts him off. He seems taken aback, offended even. It cinches your heart to see that look on his face, one of genuine hurt.
You convince yourself once again it’s for the better.
You’re done conversing with him, it’s only causing you more pain to see his defenselessness—like he doesn’t want to argue with you, so he’s simply accepting your coldness. You nearly climb out of the water until you recall that you’re braless. You locate your robe—it’s right by Jungkook’s elbow.
Internally hating yourself, you swim up in the water, caging your breasts with your arms. You carefully trudge across the tub towards him—you capture Jungkook’s attention. His doe eyes reflect a flicker of hope as you near him; it tears your heart out to only offer him the opposite.
“Move; I need to put on my robe. You’re in the way.”
With his features falling, he tongues his lip ring. He clears his throat as he steps aside, letting you climb out of the tub. You settle onto the balcony, not keen on letting him see your breasts. “Could you close your eyes?”
“I’ve licked your boobs.” He rigidly retorts. “What’s there to hide?”
You grimace. “Maybe I don’t like being ogled at by supernatural beings.”
Jungkook’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching tightly. Your words no doubt stir up memories from yesterday’s conundrum, the air now anything but sizzling or sexual, it’s dense—the kind that exacerbates the tension.
Jungkook’s cold eyes flash a look at your arms, rubbing the back of his neck. “How are your bruises?”
“Getting better.”
Jungkook nervously nibbles his bottom lip, buffering. “Y/N, listen; if this is about Leonardo… I’m sorry, alright? He just… said shit about you I couldn’t tolerate. The bastard deserved it.”
Your eyebrows climb at his confession—is that what your behaviour indicated? “Jungkook, no, this isn’t about that. It’s nothing.”
Jungkook exhales weightily. “Please stop lying, Y/N. I know you’re mad at me for not listening to you, and I’m really sorry I didn’t. But I wasn’t gonna let him get away, I don’t take you getting hurt lightly.”
You really wish he would stop talking—every word he says only plunges you deeper into his abyss, falling harder and harder for him. “I understand, Jungkook. But I promise, it’s other shit, not that.”
“What other shit is there, Y/N?” Jungkook seriously asks. “Please, just tell me. You’re not acting like yourself.”
You woefully sigh, lifting a hand to massage your temple. “Jungkook, I promise, it’s none of your damn business.” You dismiss him, unfolding your arms to grab your robe. You quickly swathe yourself in it, Jungkook’s voice laced with hurt.
“But it is, Y/N.” He pushes. “I’m concerned about you, am I wrong for that?”
You shove your robe shut, attempting to move past him. “Just stop talking, Jungkook.”
But the massive idiot blocks your escape route, sending him a stink eye as you move right, only for him to move right. When you move left, he moves left, too. When you suddenly make a break for it, he’s somehow faster than you, catching you in his arms—you huff. “Ugh, Jungkook!”
“Y/N, look into my fucking eyes, I’m serious.” He proclaims, motioning towards his ruby irises. You can’t bear to look at him, you can’t let him convince you right now—you’d rather die than confront this situation right now.
When you fail to listen, Jungkook sighs. He suddenly curls his hands around your arms, bringing you to close proximity—his smooth, gentle voice shoots an arrow through your heart. “Y/N… look at me, just once.”
Reluctantly obliging, you lift your gaze, meeting his beautiful gems of eyes. The lunar light irradiates his look, accentuating the innate sparkle in his irises.
“Y/N, haven't you ever noticed my eyes turn a different shade of red sometimes?” He kindly asks, peering at you so meaningfully, you could’ve professed your undying love for him right then and there.
“Y-yeah.”
He gently smiles at your cute stutter. “When I’m angry, they’ll burn an orange red. When I’m gluttonous, they turn a brighter red, like rubies.” He then lifts his finger to your cheek, running the back of it along your skin, ever so slowly. “When I’m lustful, they’ll glow a deep, deep red.”
His intimate closeness suffuses your body with arousal, swallowing to sustain your composure. Your underwear dampens when you feel the heat of his breath against your skin, so close you could kiss the mole underneath his lips—you’re going to fucking combust.
“When I’m greedy, when I want everything—they’ll turn into the darkest shade of red you’ll ever witness.” Chills suddenly trickle down your spine remembering the look he gave you after Yoongi’s fundraiser—he looked ready to take all of you, and leave nothing behind.
You swallow, lightly biting your lip as you keep his gaze, listening to his mellow timbre—his wandering finger across your cheek lights a flame inside you. “They turn different shades according to the seven sins, but do you wanna know something?”
You nod, attentive.
“I discovered there’s another shade—this one.” His eyes suddenly glow with a rich scarlet, though it’s lighter, practically shimmering in the lunar rays. “It only happens when I’m upset, when I can feel something in what should be my empty, cold heart.” His sincerity shines through his eyes, inviting you into the mesmerizing fractals of his soul—to see what truly lies inside.
A beautiful being.
“And right now, I can feel in my heart that something’s wrong, and I’m worried, alright? It’s making my heart hurt.” Jungkook coos, searching your eyes deeply. “So please, is it so much to ask you to confide in me?”
A dagger punctures your chest, pooling your eyes with tears. He’s only making this harder; he’s the same person never confiding you, leaving you in the dark, and he has the audacity to beg you to explain yourself. You feel incredibly wronged, frustrated, but also devastated.
You can feel him squeezing your vulnerable heart in his hands because it already belongs to him, and you’re hopeless trying to snatch it back. You press your lips together once a wave of pain crashes over you, removing yourself from his touch. “Jungkook, just please. Stop talking.”
When Jungkook spots the tears in your eyes, he melts, eyes round with immediate concern. “Y/N, did I do something? Did I say something that hurt you?”
His gentle care only lodges that dagger deeper, despising yourself for putting that expression on his face. “No Jungkook, just please, leave me alone.”
Your voice breaks, quickly scurrying towards the door only for Jungkook to put himself between you and the handle, again.
“Y/N, I’ll go fucking insane wondering what’s wrong with you, okay?” Jungkook stresses, poignantly gazing into your eyes. “I can’t see you like this. Please tell me what I did wrong.”
“It’s fucking nothing, Jungkook! Why do you even want to know?!” You angrily shout. “Move!”
“I’m not moving until you tell me what’s wrong!” Jungkook matches your volume. “I told you, I fucking care about you!”
“It’s not–!” You almost complete your sentence until your phone suddenly rings inside your robe’s pocket. You huff, fishing it out to reveal the caller—your eyes can’t fathom who appears on the screen.
“What the…” You’re shocked to see Doyun’s name with his photo—why the fuck is he calling you? You’re stalled on accepting the phone call as Jungkook’s eyes widen in front of you, his expression narrowing into one of agitation.
“What the fuck, isn’t that your ex?” He harshly asks. “Is this… is this because of him? Did he do something to you?”
You struggle to respond, face contorting with perplexion. “What-what the fuck, Jungkook? No.”
“Nah, I’m done with this asshole. It’s him isn’t it?”
“Wha-Jungkook, no!” You frustratingly exasperate, your phone vibrating in your hand yet again. You attempt to silence the ringing until Jungkook takes matters into his own hands, snatching your phone from you.
“Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing?” You reprimand him, grabbing at his beefy bicep that he uses to shield himself.
“I’m ending this shit for good, is what.” He barks, fending off your smaller body. He effortlessly holds you back as he accepts the call, pressing your phone to his ear.
“Hi? Hello? Are you an asshole named Doyun?” Jungkook speaks without remorse—you maddeningly grunt.
“Jungkook, oh my god, stop!”
“Yeah, I just called you an asshole, horrible to meet you. I’m her boyfriend, stop calling her and think about how you lost her instead, fucker, or I’ll burn you alive.”
By your last holler, Jungkook angrily cuts the call, leaving you fuming. “Jungkook, what the fuck was that?!”
“I was taking out the trash.”
Ready to detonate, you run a distressed hand through your hair, gritting your teeth. “Why in God’s name did you just do that? Doyun didn’t do anything!”
“I vividly recall exactly what he did to you; he doesn’t even deserve to breathe oxygen.” Jungkook retorts, and you’re overwhelmed with irritation, reaching out for your phone.
“Give that back to me right now!”
Jungkook purposefully lifts your phone much higher than your height, holding you back by your shoulder. “What, so you can call him and get back together with him? He’s an ass, forget him!”
“You called yourself my boyfriend! I don’t appreciate lying to people!” You counter, ceaselessly leaping for your phone, but Jungkook’s much too strong—and tall.
“Why do you care about lying to him? He keeps bothering you!”
And thus ensues three minutes of you battling Jungkook for your stupid phone, reaching out with grabby hands that are thwarted by Jungkook’s sheer determination and strength. You decide to handle this with an original move; stepping back to spring yourself onto his torso. Your arms clamp around his neck as your legs encase his waist, tirelessly attempting to seize your phone.
Jungkook supports you with little laughs, observing your cutely concentrated face. “Okay, you might just get your phone back for being cute.”
Narrowing your eyes at him, steam practically blows out of your nose. With adorable chuckles, Jungkook carries your smaller body with a hand as the other annoyingly dodges each of your grabby reaches for your phone.
“Jungkook, fuck you!”
“‘Jungkook, fuck you!’” He stupidly mimics.
“Jung–!” In the midst of your struggle, you rapidly reach over for an assured victory, which surprises Jungkook. You immediately foil his once sturdy footing.
“Oh shit-!”
Jungkook cushions your bum as he topples onto the ground, landing directly right on his ass, hard. He hisses as he rubs his tailbone, kissing his teeth. “Damnit, Y/N, you’re like an angry kitten. You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Grumpy, you pout at him with folded arms. “And you’re an obnoxious tiger, give me my phone!” You attempt to rightfully collect your phone, but Jungkook’s smile is scheming. He holds the phone over his head behind him, still out of your godforsaken reach.
You whine like a child, drumming his bare chest. “Jungkook~”
His devilish smirk grows wider, placing your phone somewhere on the ground, before both his hands cup your waist. His irises suddenly glow a deep red, boring into your soul. “You’re sitting on me, angel.”
Noticing that you’re indeed, straddling his lap, the position automatically surges arousal inside you. His thin shorts paired with your barely there robe made your toes curl; his manhood was unfairly prominent. Your smaller fingers lightly dig into his chest, breath hitching.
“It-it doesn’t matter, Jungkook.” You stutter, gulping. “Give me back my phone.”
“Why are you so flustered, angel?” He cheekily questions, slowly caressing your sensitive sides—you swear your pussy pulses so badly he should’ve noticed.
Perhaps he does, because the heat in your face increases when Jungkook brings his face mere inches from yours, his breath tickling your lips. His sinful eyes switch between your plushy petals and your innocent look—a confident scoff escapes him. “You have no idea what you do to me, huh?”
Your heart thunders inside your ribcage, letting out a shaky breath. You can feel his addicting heat permeating your skin, veins clogged by his ecstasy-like aura. You attempt to tip your chin forward with pride and adjust your hold on him, but you only maneuver your hips against his crotch—big mistake.
You nearly dissolve into a pathetic mess when your sex caresses the ghost of his cock, your hands latching onto his shoulders. Jungkook similarly inhales sharply, like you just offered a sinful invitation.
Very gently, Jungkook’s hands settle around your hips. He surprisingly thrusts up into your center, extremely softly. You suppress a moan, breathing through the heat that collects in your gut. Jungkook closely watches your reaction, determining you indeed feel something, and he attempts it again.
This time, it’s a little harder, and you swear your world crumbles. Whatever abstinence you were practicing vanishes, lightly gasping out as the shape of his member strokes your cunt. He feels delectably massive, welcoming thoughts of the beast he conceals inside his pants. The contemplation wets your pussy folds, driven by the lust that infects your lungs.
Securing your hands around his neck, you pull yourself over him, gently grinding over his crotch. You let out a broken sigh, shuddering with pleasure. Jungkook eats up your needy noises, curling his arm around your back as the other plants itself on the ground.
Your breaths mingle as the feeling drives you insane, while Jungkook encourages your movements. He pulls you towards him, and you cooperate by rocking your hips against him. He hisses while you sigh out, pussy on white hot fire. Jungkook tucks his hand over your round ass, tugging you towards him again.
When the folds of your pussy presses into his thick flesh, Jungkook’s groan is deep. “Fuck…”
His curse leaves your bones igniting, sparks of arousal pooling at your center. Your lust-ridden mind compels you try again, and again, and again until your hips softly rock over Jungkook’s crotch, met by his head-spinning thrusts underneath.
Moans begin escaping you, soul ensnared by the addicting feeling of his cock. Jungkook’s just as jaded, your lips brush against each other as your breaths remain uneven.
“Shit… Y/N.” He swallows harshly, the column of his throat sexily bobbing. “Like that. Just like that, angel.”
His hardening member draws out curses from you, nails scraping against his flawless skin. You whimper against his mouth, high off the pattern of his heavy breathing. Your bodies soon develop an intoxicating rhythm, biting your bottom lip to subdue fucked out, faded moans as your pussy strokes his solid member.
Jungkook hastens his thrusts, needily ramming up into your sex. You envision yourself riding his enormous, hard dick, bouncing over him as he watches your body with fascination. He does it right now, eyes blown out as he observes your smaller body working over his crotch—his mouth remains agape with uncontainable lust.
“Jungkook…” You coo, unable to control yourself. You craved this man more than you did air, and nothing was going to slow you down now—your cum was already staining your underwear.
Jungkook suppresses a growl as he clutches your body for dear life, as though he were painfully controlling himself. “Fuck me, Y/N. The shit you do to me…”
Jungkook suddenly buries his face into the crook of your neck, concealed by your hair. His hot, uneven breaths fan your shoulder wear your robe’s falling off—your lips naturally fall by his ear, your moans so much more vivid to him.
He unexpectedbly lets out a desperate groan, fingers digging into your side. He suddenly thrusts so hard he knocks the wind out of you, his cock evidently prominent, so hard he seems seconds from exploding.
Your body responds with a wanton moan, so unhinged he’s burrowing a place underneath your skin, invading every corner of your desires. Just when you envelope him in an embrace to rut your pussy harder, Jungkook suddenly clutches your body, drawing back with shocked eyes. He curtains your mouth with his palm, his look extremely urgent.
“Y/N, wait wait wait, shhh.”
Furrowing your brows, your orgasm pends inside you, sexually frustrated. “What?”
“Shhh,” he shushes you again, pressing his index finger to your lips. “Be quiet.”
His tone is laced with urgency, his eyes shifting around as if he’s… detecting something? You speak even as he presses your lips shut, feeling your glorious release melt away. “Jungkook, what is it?”
“I think I hear something…” He trails, concentrating harder, until his expression becomes pale, cursing. “Holy shit.”
Swiftly, Jungkook completely cages you in his arms, standing to his full height as he pushes you flush against his front. He discreetly tucks you two away from the glass balcony doors, Jungkook’s back landing on the impeccable hardwood wall. He breathes heavily as he swipes your phone from the ground, slipping it into his pocket, hands settling back around your body.
You swallow once you feel your chest press against his, peeking down to find your boobs nearly on full display. They’re spilling out of your robe, nipples close to rubbing Jungkook’s bare, golden skin, and your entire system shuts down—if he turns towards you, he’s seeing your titties.
Clearing your throat, you quietly peep. “Jungkook–”
“Shh.” He clasps his gigantic hand over your mouth again, finally facing you. “I’m sensing a massive energy source; it’s an angel.”
Your eyes widen with terror, but Jungkook settles you down. “It’s alright, angel. I’ve got you. Just stay close to me.” He whispers, and it’s then Jungkook’s eyes naturally fall down, scanning past your collarbones to find your nearly naked breasts. He swallows harshly before he’s averting his eyes, acting as if he doesn’t see a thing—you grimace behind his hand.
Suddenly, you both hear the door to your apartment ripped open, and you tense in Jungkook’s arms. He cradles you tighter.
“Hello? Anyone here?” You both hear someone call out. Jungkook’s expression hardens with determination, flexing his jaw as he readies himself.
“We mean no harm, come out if you’re hiding.” The voice says, and it’s then you acknowledge they’re not a singular threat.
Jungkook’s gears seem to be shifting, devising a plan. You’re interrupted from questioning him once Jungkook grits his teeth, cursing. “Fuck it.”
Abruptly, Jungkook squeezes you into him and busts open the balcony door with his shoulder. He hails his palm forward with a bright light, his eyes glowing a fiery red. He’s seconds from attacking until his expression morphs into one of shock, furrowing his eyebrows.
“What the–Raphael?” Observing the three angels in the middle of your apartment, you gape—this is another archangel?
“Brother.” Raphael amicably greets, holding out his arms in welcome. “It’s been far too long, how are you?”
Shocked by the unforeseen kindness, you’re left speechless—so is Jungkook. He squeezes you as he holds up his palm in defense. “Cut the crap. What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re here to take Y/N, I won’t let you have her.” Jungkook’s intense voice is enough to convey his seriousness; he’s not fucking around.
The sight of angels nearly causes you to throw up. You can’t help but relive your trauma, recalling those ghastly beings and what they did to you. Your body tenses with fear, cowering into Jungkook’s neck like a child.
Jungkook tightens his grip in response, holding his hand out more firmly. “I’m not fucking with you, Raphael. If you guys are doing some sort of good cop, bad cop shit then I swear I’ll blow you and your lackeys to Hell.”
“Woah, woah, woah, brother. There’s no need. I come in peace.” Raphael quells Jungkook, who loosens his defensive pose by the slightest.
But Jungkook shoots suspicious looks at the two angels flanking Raphael’s side. “How do I know you’re not like the rest, huh? How do I know you don’t mean harm? Why didn’t you come alone?”
“Because I’m not supposed to be here in general, brother.” Raphael holds his hands up in surrender, motioning towards the two angels. “They’re merely extra security. I’m here as a favour to you, Jungkook.”
“Don’t use my name.” Jungkook commands, eyes glowing a smoldering red. “Never.”
Raphael submits to Jungkook’s request. “Alright, I’m sorry, Lucifer. But I promise, I’m here to help you out, not to harm you. I know your encounters with angels haven't been friendly.”
“‘Not friendly?’” Jungkook bitterly mocks, scoffing. “They almost choked Y/N to death and nearly shattered her spine, ‘not friendly’ doesn’t even fucking scratch the surface, asshole.”
“Alright, I understand.” Raphael waves the white flag. “It was not fair of them to do that. Your situation has left us angels in a… conflicting debate about how to handle things.”
“I don’t give a fuck, Raphael, give me answers! Why are angels trying to hurt Y/N?” Jungkook desperately beseeches. “Why am I on Earth? What’s happening?”
Jungkook’s weakening voice alarms you, peering up to find his glassy eyes—everything must be so nerve-wracking to him. Raphael completely lowers his guard, speaking kindly. “I’ll provide all the answers you want, brother. But first, you need to come with us—your journey is taking much longer than expected, and I’m here to help.”
Jungkook grinds his teeth, his expression far too angry. “Where are you taking us? What are you going to do?”
“Nothing, brother. We’re only going to take you two to Chicago.” Raphael elaborates, stepping closer. Jungkook immediately powers up, threatening him.
“Don’t come closer!”
Raphael stops, moving his hands higher in surrender, exhaling deeply. “You must visit the celestial club at once, brother, and I promise I’ll give you any answer you desire.”
Struck with conflicted emotions, Jungkook locks eyes with you. He appears heavily indecisive, swallowing harshly. He searches your irises deeply, voice gentle when he asks. “Are you okay with them taking us to Chicago, angel?”
Sensing the gravity of the situation, and the golden opportunity this is presenting you and Jungkook, you decide to place your hatred for angels aside, gingerly nodding.
You whisper to Jungkook that if they’re hitching you guys with a ride, they’ll have to somehow bring your car, too. Jungkook’s lips curve into a soft smile, agreeing, as he lets your feet touch the ground. He still holds you close by your waist, his other hand encasing your cheek once he observes your shaken eyes. He softly runs his thumb across your skin, calming you. He lifts his resolute gaze towards Raphael and the angels, speaking firmly.
“Alright,” he says, “we’ll come with you.”
Nearly tumbling forward, you’re close to hacking up your lungs when you land. You cough without pause, Jungkook’s hands soon soothing your back. “Angel, you alright?”
“Yeah,” you cough one last time, rubbing your chest—you didn’t know teleportation could cause intense nausea. “The teleporting fucks with me.”
Jungkook flashes you a sympathetic smile, helping you steady yourself.
“Where are we?” He asks Raphael and his attendants, observing his surroundings. “Why are we in a corridor?”
“We’re on the 30th floor of Waldorf Astoria Chicago.”
You nearly choke on your spit. “We’re in the what now?”
“The Waldorf Astoria. You’re to stay here for the night and visit the celestial club tomorrow evening.” Raphael informs, strolling down the hallway. He motions for you two to follow. “The club is located on the highest floor of the building.”
Casually sauntering towards the very end of the corridor, he spills the rest of the details. “I know this may be abrupt, but to pay you back for the harsh treatment you’ve experienced, we’ve secured you a master suite.”
The archangel unearths a card key from his pristine, white suit once you reach the very last room. He swipes it before turning the knob, revealing a grandiose room more luxurious than the one at Jimin’s casino. You gawk, unable to speak—it appears incredibly exorbitant.
Jungkook replicates your exact look, slowly meandering in together. Raphael formally stands by the door as he allows you two to sink it all in. The time allows you to seriously contemplate the archangel; Raphael seems more…professional? You get the impression he’s far more intelligent about dealing with people. He still seems as equally brutal as his brothers, laced with the same righteousness, though he’s far more kind—hospitable. He shouldn’t have an ulterior motive here, should he?
“This room is yours until your travels end.” He elaborates. “You’ll be provided a wardrobe to choose from for tomorrow, it’s quite the prestigious event.”
“A prestigious event?” You question, lips acutely pursing. “Isn’t the celestial club…” Your line of thinking shifts towards a dimly lit space with blood-pumping music and grinding bodies, but Raphael’s quick to interrupt.
“Oh, Y/N, the celestial club isn’t the club humans usually visit.” He clarifies, waving a finger. “It’s an exclusive club run by a non-profit organization, namely, us angels. It’s composed of angels and humans that submit donations to the many charities and foundations we operate.”
Stunned, you blink multiple times. It clicks in your head then—of course angels would run a club that’s inherently good, why did you think they’d run a place full of drugs, greed and lust?
Feeling incredibly stupid, Jungkook guiltily pulls his lips back. “Shit, I completely forgot about that. It’s my fault Y/N didn’t know.”
“It’s alright,” Raphael reassures him. “I’m glad you at least remembered to bring a human with you, the angels there will not welcome Lucifer kindly.”
Jungkook scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “And how do I know they won’t smite me the second I walk in?”
“Because you’ll be meeting me, brother.” Raphael gestures towards himself. “They will understand it’s archangel business, something they cannot dig their noses into.”
“Then why have they at all when this is ‘archangel business’?” You speak up without a filter, slapping a hand over your mouth once you register your rude tone. You haven’t forgotten you’re speaking to an archangel. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re correct, Y/N. Those angels are from the Council and as I’ve said, the situation has been controversial. Just find some time to rest tonight.” Raphael instructs, gesturing towards the suite. “Please make yourselves at home, and we’ll meet tomorrow to discuss further details about the evening.”
You and Jungkook nod before Raphael vacates your room, shutting the door behind him. Your guard drops then, finally able to relax. Faltering onto one of the loveseats in the common area, you sigh, massaging your eyelids.
“Hey, you alright?” Jungkook considerately asks, clasping your shoulder for a rub—you can’t help but reflect on how domestic the touch is, or the fact that you’re still dressed in your robe.
Straightening up, you clear your throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just don’t like angel crap.” You shrug off his hand, leaning away from him. Again, you can practically feel how much it hurts him, peeking through your peripheral vision to find Jungkook backing away from you, his arms tightly folded.
“Y-yeah, sorry.” He apologizes—you hate how awkward he becomes, almost like he doesn’t know how to act around you, especially after your salacious activities before arriving here. Neither of you have mentioned it. “Of all my brothers, Raphael is the nicest one, though, so I don’t think he has an ulterior motive.”
Humming in acknowledgement, you sink into your seat, eyes threatening to fall shut. Jungkook clears his throat with a fist over his mouth, jaw clenching. “You seem tired; get dressed for bed and get some sleep. I can put our luggage away.”
Fluttering your eyes open, you warmly smile, appreciative of his offer. “Thank you, Jungkook.”
He nods, a smile almost curving his lips. “I’ve got you, angel. Always.”
Rising from your seat, you zip open your suitcase to rummage for some nightwear. You managed to find shorts but remember your shortage on t-shirts. You guiltily wince, craning your head towards Jungkook—you meet his eyes.
“Um…can I—”
Jungkook holds up his hand, halting you from speaking as he grabs the back of the shirt he slipped on before arriving here. He casts it off his gorgeous head of hair, strikingly ruffled now as he strips the article from his arms, presenting it to you without a word.
Swallowing at how incredibly sexy he is, you reach out and clutch his shirt, thanking him for it. He tells you not to mention it, and you paddle off towards one of the vacant bedrooms on the second floor.
You hate that your heart flutters when you slip on his t-shirt later that night—it smells just like him.
You toss and turn, groaning as your abdomen feels a sharp pang. You’re attacked by another stab that feels akin to a dagger, fluttering your eyes open to sadly exhale.
You’re getting your PMS cramps.
Huffing out, you lay flat on your stomach to rid yourself of the pain, but it does nothing at all, cursing mother nature. All you desire is a heating pad to soothe the aches, gravely missing the one that’s stored away in your closet at home.
You hate yourself for not packing it, though then again, you didn’t expect to get your period earlier than usual.
You rise in bed, tucking your knees to your chest to manage the sharp aches. You wince upon another stab, your stomach brutally contracting. You soon desire any kind of heat source to provide immediate relief, and only one, unfortunate thought comes to mind.
Jungkook.
Burying your face in your hands, you shove away any and all trivial thoughts about him and your situation to at least treat your suffering. Swinging your legs off the bed, you clutch his t-shirt to your braless frame and waddle out of your room.
Standing in front of his door, you let out a deep breath, preparing yourself—or to be exact, your heart. Sleeping without him did feel lonely, though it allowed for some progress in your mission to detach yourself from him. Visiting him would only counteract whatever you’ve accomplished, but you couldn’t deny the truth—you missed him.
Lifting your knuckles to the door, you softly knock. “Jungkook?
You hear rustling on his side, soon his deep, mellow voice. “Angel?”
Your heart melts inside your chest—he sounds sleepy. “Can I come in?”
“Of course, it’s open.”
Quietly turning the knob, you enter Jungkook’s room, finding him rubbing his face as he sits up in bed; he’d evidently been asleep.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you asleep?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay.” Jungkook covers his mouth when he yawns, his rugged voice thick with sleep. “What happened? Are you okay?”
His attentiveness even when he’s tired steals your heart, thinking you were right—visiting him really did backtrack your efforts.
“I feel bad, I woke you up.” You frown, holding open his door. “I’m sorry I bothered you, I can leave—”
“No, it’s alright, angel.” Jungkook stops you, leaning his elbows on his bent knees. He fights off another yawn as he mumbles his words with a husky timbre. “You’re never a bother. Did you need something? Have you been able to sleep?”
Softly smiling, you enter his room and shut the door. It’s incredibly dark, his curtains drawn shut to leave no room for light, but his silhouette is still visible—you know he looks undeniably handsome. Turning towards him shyly, you half-whisper.
“I–um, not really.” You uselessly toe the ground, averting your eyes from him—since when did Jungkook make you so timid? Your heart feels like it’s jackhammering against your ribcage. “I just, um, I’m-I’m getting cramps from PMS-ing.” You clear your throat while explaining—did the devil even know about premenstrual symptoms? “They’re when–”
Jungkook gently laughs. “I know what PMS-ing is, angel.”
Feeling your cheeks turn hot, you bashfully lace your fingers behind your back. “I need a heating pad for the pain but we don’t have one, and the closest thing to a heat source is…” You think back to when Jungkook massaged your back, relishing in the relieving heat his palms provided.
Jungkook hums in acknowledgement, beckoning you with his hand. “Come here.”
You sheepishly shuffle over to him, arms caging your breasts as you settle into the space Jungkook allocates for you. Climbing onto his sheets, he casts them over your body as you slither into his side. You nuzzle against his warm body, Jungkook snug beside you. A hand of his perfectly nestles over your clothed tummy as his other arm serves as a pillow for your head.
All of a sudden, you feel an immense, familiar warmth permeate from Jungkook’s palm, sighing when your abdomen feels the relief. You purr like a kitten, cuddling up into him—it just felt so instinctual.
To your surprise, Jungkook chuckles as his fingers lightly brush through your hair. “Better?”
You happily grin, hiding your face in his shoulder. “Better.”
Endeared, Jungkook adjusts his head on his pillow, spooning you dearly. “Goodnight, angel. Get some sleep.”
Heart warming inside your chest, you feel your cramps subside, finding peace by his side, and your eyes easily fall shut. You can’t help but think it replicates how easily you’ve fallen for him—forgetting him is going to be the most agonizing, miserable thing you’ll have to do.
“Goodnight, Jungkook.”
“Fuck, I don’t know what would look good with this.” Jungkook curses as he compares two dress shirts with his suit jacket, extremely confused. You can’t see him currently as you touch up your makeup in the bathroom, only able to hear his comedic dilemma.
“I don’t think blue’s my colour, I’m more of a red guy.” He speaks to himself—you scoff as you peek out of your bathroom.
“Just choose a shirt, genius. Men can get away with almost any colour combination as long as they’re wearing a suit.”
Kissing his teeth, you can hear the eye roll in Jungkook’s voice. “Well, in case you didn’t remember, I'm walking into a den of beings that absolutely despise me, Y/N. I should look as good as I can, maybe look so hot that they spare me the dirty looks and ogle at me instead.”
Chuckling, your laughs resound in your suite, perfecting your eyeliner. “What, have angels never seen you before?”
“Not all of them, and very rarely. They mainly know me because of how my energy feels.” He responds, sounding busy as he rummages through the rack of clothes Raphael provided you with earlier. It’s the day of you both finally attending what you originally set out for, hours away from sealing Jungkook’s fate.
You avoid the surge of emotions that crawl up your throat at the thought.
“And how does your energy feel like, oh great king of Hell?”
Jungkook proudly huffs. “Thick and massive, like my co—”
“Shut the fuck up, clown!” You silence him, listening to him bellow out a laugh in the main area. You grow frustrated with him, stomping out of the bathroom. You find him still comparing two shirts, crossing your arms over your robe-cladded chest. “You can’t go two seconds without being full of yourself, huh?”
“I mean, it feels great to be full of myself.” He nonchalantly shrugs, flashing you a shit-eating grin. “I promise you’d feel good full of me, too.”
He sends you an obnoxious wink—you’re utterly fed up with him. “You’re an ass.”
“Thanks, I have a great ass.” Jungkook tips his imaginary hat in your direction, and you give up on him, tapping your phone to peek at the hour. You realize you’re both too far behind for the meet-up, cursing.
“Fuck, Jungkook, we’re gonna be late.” You exaperate. “What was the time Raphael gave again?”
“7:30.”
“And it’s 7:22! Let’s hurry up and get the fuck out of here, we still need to grab all of our shit, too.” You harshly instruct him, running into the bathroom to snatch your earrings. You prop the showy crystal pieces on, adoring how they complement your black, silk gown for tonight. Searching for your stunning waterfall necklace, you locate it and attempt to wrap it around your neck, but the clasp is too complicated.
Frustrated, you figure you might as well ask Jungkook. Removing your robe, you cast it onto a hook and step out of the bathroom into Jungkook’s direction, fixing the backing of your earrings. You find him with a black dress shirt left open, his tie hanging around his neck, revealing his gorgeous abs.
“Jungkook, can you put on my necklace? I can’t work the clasp.” You request, approaching him checking himself out in the main area’s body-length mirror. His eyes deviate from his reflection to flash a look at you—he gawks the second he does.
You appear strikingly elegant, the midnight black, gorgeous silk gown cascades down your lower half into a seamless skirt, flowy and yet, incredibly mature. The corset styled, strapless top made your dress appear almost hollywood-like, the back adorned with ties that laced up your spine, showing off a tasteful amount of skin. A single strip of crystal separated the top of your dress and your skirt, complemented by your crystal jewelry.
Jungkook swallows harshly as he sweeps over your entire body, completely oblivious to you holding out your necklace. He’s only reminded of your request when you beckon him again.
“Hello? Jungkook? Necklace?”
Staring at your red lips, he awkwardly clears his throat, averting his ogling eyes. “Right, right.”
He retrieves the necklace and rounds your figure, standing behind you. Your eyes meet in your reflection, and you gulp—he’s so much bigger than you, and his all-black outfit is lethally handsome.
“Your hair.” He indicates—you collect all your wavy strands to rest upon your collarbone. Jungkook avoids your eyes in the mirror, a little skittish. His behaviour could indicate he’s…nervous? He’s acting off. It was a rare sight; usually Jungkook was as confident as ever.
He delicately lays the necklace over your sternum. Through the mirror, you watch him silently work, admiring his otherworldly looks. He truly did deserve the description of being devilishly attractive; his scorching beauty seemed as though it was forged from the molten lava in Hell.
Harmlessly gazing at him, Jungkook peeks up, and your eyes connect. For a second, you swear you feel something so magnetic, so immensely powerful, it felt as though he owned your entire soul. You could’ve become lost in his eyes, taken by their intriguing gleam. He felt… familiar, too familiar, and you seriously wonder if you’ve felt this feeling before. Your insides scream at you to simply launch yourself at him, to devour him.
You’re only sucked out of your trance when Jungkook’s finished, and his hands find purchase on your bare shoulders. “There.”
Breathing out whatever the fuck that was, you struggle to respond, toying with your necklace. “Th-thank you.”
“The ribbons on the back of your dress aren’t tied that nicely, though.” He informs you, slightly leaning down towards your ear to speak—you’re a fucking goner. “Can I tie them?”
Your heart lurches at the idea, but you’d rather your bows not look stupid. “Y-yeah, sure.”
Nodding, he unties the knots that enclose your corset. He pulls the ends tighter, connecting your gazes again. “Is that too tight?”
You shake your head, and he continues. His pretty hands effortlessly work your ribbons, crafting presentable knots that look much better than the previous.
His presence permeates you with nearly suffocating tension from behind, stirring a fiery sensation deep inside your belly. His eyebrows are drawn together as he concentrates, watching his jaw flex, his impeccable hair with a single strand that curls over his exposed forehead, his richly-scented cologne invading your nostrils—he’s so sickeningly hot.
Completing his work, his hands settle around your hips, holding you. He regards your reflection with mysterious, dark eyes, something that invites you into the depths of his tempting mysteries.
“Done.” He nearly whispers; shivers prickle along your spine. You clear your throat and spin out of his hold—you need goddamn air.
“Are you ready yet?” You manage to get out with stability, tipping your chin. “We’ll be late if you don’t choose a shirt.”
He sighs as he tucks his hands into his pockets. “I can’t choose a shirt.”
“What’s wrong with the one you’re wearing now?”
“It’ll make my suit all-black.” Jungkook complains, clicking his tongue. “I don’t think it looks good.”
You snort. “Jungkook, please. You’ll make anything look good. All-black is actually a sexy look for a suit.”
“Did you just call me sexy?” Jungkook’s lips curve into a mischievous smile, his eyes dancing with amusement.
“I called the suit sexy, not you.”
“And you just said I make anything I look good,” he counters, chiding you. “You admitted I’m good-looking.”
Realizing your slip-up, you gulp, nervously laughing. “Haha, whatever, clown. Just fucking get dressed and let’s get this night over with.” You show him the hand, your heels clacking against the hardwood floor underneath as you near the door.
Softly chuckling, Jungkook can’t help but grin widely, buttoning up his current shirt as he readies himself. You go searching for your clutch for tonight, ensuring it was packed with whatever you two may require for a night out. You’re tugging on your heels when you suddenly hear Jungkook’s footsteps approaching you.
“Finally, you’re done—” Within a split second, you’re shocked when he randomly slips his arms around you from behind.
He embraces you warmly, tightly, as though he desired to never let go. His emotions emanate from his touch, infusing with whatever weighed on his heart. You’re left perplexed, holding his arm around your stomach. “Jungkook?” You question, though you’re only met by his silence, becoming more concerned.
“Hey, Jungkook, are you alright?” You sweetly ask again, and he squeezes you tighter, his lips pressed into your shoulder—his voice is so mellow when he speaks.
“I remembered something in my dreams last night...” The rumble of his voice vibrates through you, his cadence calm—honey-like.
You affectionately stroke his arm. “What did you remember, Jungkook?”
He lets the silence linger, though his quietude isn’t unwelcomed. His seems conflicted, and you allow him the time to speak, to lay out whatever’s troubling him.
“I remembered you.”
Your heart stops, your lungs cease functioning. Your mind produces no articulated thoughts, eyes wide with shock. “Y-You… what?”
“I saw you… I remembered you.”
Desparate for more information, you pry. “What did you remember about me, Jungkook?”
He hesitates to speak, his arms curling around you tighter—he squeezes you. “I don’t want to say it yet. Just… let me hold you like this.” He quietly requests, burying his face into your hair. “Please.”
Overwhelmed by whatever Jungkook feels, you acquiesce, allowing him to cradle you in his arms. He does so for what felt like hours, when it must’ve only been five minutes—your heart has never drummed so loudly before. His hold feels homey, comforting, but most of all, once again, familiar.
You haven’t been able to shake that familiarity you’ve felt ever since the day you met him; which only begs more questions. What does he mean he ‘remembered’ you? Wasn’t the first time you two met, in fact, the first time you both ever met? You don’t recall meeting Jungkook before that encounter, left incredibly confused as to what he saw.
But alas, this isn’t something you’ll dig into—it seems to make Jungkook incredibly vulnerable. It would be the equivalent of kicking a puppy when it's already down.
Gently, Jungkook releases you from his arms, fixing himself up. He passes by you to tug on his shoes with a perfectly normal expression, opening the door of your suite—he gestures towards it, holding out his hand for you “After you, my lady.”
Impressed by his ability to do a complete 180, you laugh through a smile, placing your hand in his warm, large palm. “Thank you, my king.”
You swear you can feel how wide Jungkook knowingly grins when you vacate your suite.
Your heels sound against the elevator’s marble flooring as you fidget with Jungkook, who keeps a warm palm against your lower back. You feel sheepish with him so close, stunning as ever in his sexy suit. Out of curiosity, you glimpse up at him, and he peers down at you.
He sends you a charming smile, holding your gaze as you become uncontrollably shy, tearing your eyes away. You listen to him chuckle, a fist covering his gorgeous lips.
“What else did Raphael tell you about tonight when I was showering, Jungkook?” You inquire, gaining the courage to meet his eyes again.
“He explained that I have to mention his name when we get asked about our invite by the host, and he’ll speak to us after.”
You hum in acknowledgement, drumming your fingers across your clutch. “I see, so this shouldn’t be too bad, right?”
Jungkook grimaces at that, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he thinks. He sighs then, turning around to face you, cupping your arms seriously. “Y/N, listen. Everyone’s going to be able to sense that I’m Lucifer and they’ll most likely stare. They may even be hostile when treating us until Raphael comes. It’s unavoidable—they can sense my tainted energy.”
You attentively listen to him, nodding.
“So just… stay by my side. You may also hear some unappealing things about me from other angels, but please, try to understand and take things with a grain of salt. Hell was… Hell was different.” Jungkook nervously clarifies, swallowing harshly.
His eyes glimmer that beautiful scarlet shade, as though the state of his heart relied on your single answer. You pacify Jungkook’s worries, offering him a kind smile. “Nobody will change my opinion of you, Jungkook. Never.”
His lips adorably curve, releasing your arms to face the elevator doors again. Once they open up upon the last floor, you’re welcomed by a lush, incredibly opulent scene. The club is similar to a banquet hall almost, large in size though decorated with enough Gregorian-style tables and chairs to make it appear extremely exclusive.
Jungkook leads you both towards the host, who inquires your names, and your companion does exactly as he mentioned earlier. Upon hearing Raphael’s name, the host immediately changes his mood, scurrying off to inform whomever he must.
The pair of you saunter further into the event, and here comes exactly what Jungkook predicted. It’s jarring how a noticeable, uncomfortable silence falls upon the room, nearly every eye focusing on you two. The contempt is magnetic, unavoidable as what you assume to be all angels staring at you with hostility. It’s habitual for you to become shy; you can’t forget you seem to be the first name in their Death Notes.
You squeeze Jungkook’s hand, who naturally does so back. You think you even feel him transfer some of his heat to you; it automatically serves as a relaxant to your stiffness. He clears his throat before bending down, his lip ring caressing your helix. “You look gorgeous tonight, by the way.”
A coquettish grin plasters across your face, narrowing your vision at him. “Are you trying to distract me, demon?”
Jungkook snorts. “You definitely know me too well.”
Caught up in giggling with him, Raphael’s voice is unmistakable. “Brother, Y/N.” He pleasantly greets, approaching you two with a good-natured smile. You’re glad Raphael’s naturally kinder; it quelled some of the harsher stares of other angels.
“Raphael, hey.” Jungkook responds, tugging you closer to him by your waist
“I’m glad you’ve both dressed well, I hope the suite has been a nice change of pace.”
“Yeah, it’s been nice.” Your king of Hell confirms.
“That’s good to hear. Thank you for coming to the club, I’m sure you’ve known this has always been your destination.” Raphael gestures towards the exorbitant floor.
“Yes, all I want to do is talk, Raphael. And tell me how I’m meant to return to Hell, you said you’d help me.”
Hearing Jungkook’s words leaves your heart sinking into your stomach, air vacating your lungs. The pain that strikes you is nearly unbearable, but you made a promise to yourself; when Jungkook leaves, you’re to feel absolutely nothing.
It’s better that way, and you’ll force yourself to accept that until your heart decides to be as logical as your head.
“I shall, but first,” Raphael holds up a finger, appearing as a sort of signal when he beckons someone. You tilt your head in confusion, until you unexpectedly feel hands grabbing your shoulders, tugging you out of Jungkook’s hold.
You worriedly peer back, finding yourself in the company of two large men dressed in all black, and a man in all white—Jungkook’s expression immediately drops, panic lacing his tone. “Raphael, what the fuck are you doing?” His features soon, however, morph into sheer confusion when he recognizes the two men seizing you.
“Wait, wrath… gluttony… Namjoon and Seokjin?”
“Your Majesty.”
“Sir.” They each respond.
Jungkook blinks multiple times, far too puzzled. He quickly faces his brother. “Raphael, what the fuck is going on?”
“We cannot allow Y/N to join our conversation.” Raphael calmly explains. “It is strictly a celestial matter, she will be accompanied by your princes of Hell and my most trusted man in the meantime.”
“Who’s the fucking angel? And why are my princes here?” Jungkook angirly questions, his irritation showing on his face.
“Well hello to you too, Lucifer. I’m Taehyung—probably the best angel in heaven. Don’t worry, I’m one of the good guys who doesn’t entirely hate you.” The man in white eccentrically introduces himself; he seems to be quite the character.
Raphael clasps his hands together, careful with his words. “I requested some of your princes to take care of Y/N because I figured you trusted them more than my angels, and since Y/N might feel more comfortable. My man is there to simply dissipate any tensions between the demons and angels.”
In the same instant Raphael elaborates, the angel Taehyung turns towards you, smiling widely—he’s insanely beautiful, even more so his endearing, square-like smile. “Greetings Y/N, as you know, I’m Taehyung, and I promise I won’t bring you any harm. I’m actually the embodiment of an angel.”
His bubbly persona automatically settles your nerves, also glad to be in the company of some princes of Hell—Raphael was right in his decision, funny how you prefer demons over angels. “Princes of hell, huh? Do you know Yoongi?” You ask them.
“Of course, he’s one of us.” The burlier one answers.
“One of our best guys.” The one with luscious lips adds on.
Your heart slows down once you hear they know Yoongi—Jungkook doesn’t seem to be on the same page, though.
“Raphael, you didn’t mention this.” Jungkook barks, his body scarily tensing. “I’m not separating from Y/N, that’s off the table.”
“Brother, she’ll be protected by three beings, she will be fine.”
“The last time I trusted her with someone…” Jungkook begins, but trails as his features grimace—he must be remembering what Leonardo did to you. “I nearly killed a man for what he did to her; Y/N and I do not separate. End of discussion.”
Raphael gravely sighs, attempting to work with his hot-headed brother. “Lucifer, our discussion is not one that can include the presence of a human. If you’d like your answers, you must let her go.”
Grinding his teeth, Jungkook’s eyes glow a furious red as his anger boils over. It’s easy to forget that Jungkook’s status as Lucifer makes him easily susceptible to anger, to his emotions flying off the rails and manifesting in terrifying ways—this time it’s flames burning in his irises. You’ve never once seen him this rageful.
“You said you wouldn’t be like the rest.” Jungkook grits, his derisive voice catching the eyes of those nearby. “You said I could trust you!”
“Brother, I am trying to help you, all I ask is that we speak without her.” Raphael asserts himself, but Jungkook’s fuming now. It becomes alarming once he threateningly approaches Raphael, to which you suddenly receive an elbow nudge.
“Hey, you’re his woman, aren’t you? Maybe you should calm him down before he blows this joint to Hell.” Taehyung leans down to whisper. You struggle to respond, having no choice when even Namjoon and Seokjin release you as a result. Your head ruminates with Taehyung calling you Jungkook’s woman when you round the demon’s menacing figure, your smaller hands resting atop Jungkook’s taut chest.
“Jungkook, hey, hey. Calm down.” You coo, your voice sweeter than sweet. He still continues to rage, and it’s then you see his fists dangerously tightened, the heat emanating from his body incredibly sweltering. You cup his jaw then, thumbs caressing his cheeks. “Jungkook, look at me, hey.”
His fiery eyes glance at you, and you offer him a soft, delicate smile. “Jungkook, it’s alright. We’ve travelled all this way for this moment, haven’t we? You need to talk to your brother.”
Jungkook’s jaw flexes, grinding his teeth. “I am not leaving you, not again.” The emphasis of his words is heightened by the tenacious look in his eyes—his resolve pierces your soul. Jungkook always did hate whenever you parted from him, though this time, there’s something different in his features; like he’d truly murder anyone attempting to take you away from him.
Your eyes flash with confusion, though you shove it away. “Jungkook, I promise I’ll stay within your line of sight, okay? I promise.”
He’s still unconvinced, giving you a death glare that never subsides—you figure it’s time to pull out the big guns. With a sigh, you timidly peer towards everyone watching you two.
“Um… can everyone look away for a bit?”
The four beings quirk a questioning brow—you smile even more timidly. “Please?”
Complying, the men all turn away from you and Jungkook, even if they look extremely confused. Once their eyes are elsewhere, Jungkook whispers only for you to hear. “Y/N, I will not—”
Instantly, you cradle his soft cheeks, prop yourself on your tip-toes, and press your lips against Jungkook’s. You kiss him gently, sweetly, delicate enough that it leaves Jungkook hesitating. You don’t move your mouth, only relish in the pillowy plush of his rosy lips.
There’s a small sound when you pull away from his supple mouth, watching him peer back at you with round, confused eyes—he appears utterly adorable. “Jungkook, let me go for now—I promise I’ll come back to you.”
Unable to speak, Jungkook can’t conjure up a sentence. He sweeps over every feature upon your face, as though he were committing every inch to his memory—his irises simmer out their rageful fire, replaced by sweet, warm honey.
“Okay.” He quietly confirms, pressing his lips together with worry, though it's admirable that he listens to you. “Okay…. only for you.”
With your lips curving into an angelic smile, you glimpse over at Raphael. “He’s yours for now, Raphael.”
Raphael thanks you for easing up Jungkook as you step towards your three protectors, Jungkook’s eyes and hand still lingering on you. When you’re both pulled apart, Jungkook cradles your palm tightly, reluctant to release you until you slowly, steadily, slip out of each other’s grasp like sand.
You can’t shake the feeling that it felt terribly symbolic.
“Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Raphael gestures towards the couch across from him. Jungkook grumpily seats himself, casting a leg over the other as he reclines, his eyes automatically shooting towards the counter of the bar—he finds you beaming with a smile, adorably waving at him.
He can’t deny the way you make his heart race, even if he’s incredibly pissed.
Clearing his throat, Jungkook tongues his lip ring, leaning his elbow on his armrest, hands folded over his lap. “So, angels drink these days?” Jungkook indicates the bar, his tone flat as ever.
“It’s meant for our human guests; they attend during the day.” Raphael elaborates. “It’s only celestial beings after 6 PM.”
Jungkook acknowledges the information with the bounce of his brows, eyes distracted with observing the club—he sneaks glances at you nearly every five seconds, his heart easing when he finds you animatedly talking.
Raphael sighs from across his brother, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Brother, I assure you she's fine. I sincerely mean her no harm, you know I would not lie to you; I’m a servant of the Lord.”
Jungkook scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “Funny how your servants of the Lord had no problem violently assaulting her.”
Raphael finds no words to counter his brother, merely exhaling. “We came here to speak, Jungkook.”
“Don’t use my angel name.”
Clearing his throat, Raphael timidly continues. “Lucifer, would you like your answers or not?”
“I very much would, why else would I come here?” Jungkook snips.
“Where would I even begin? There’s much to unravel here.”
“Maybe start with why the fuck I was even cast out of hell?” Jungkook speaks harshly, holding his brother in contempt. “Or why the hell I can’t remember anything.”
“Alright, your memory; I can start there.” Raphael indicates, straightening his posture. “Your memories were stolen from you, they were meant to be.”
Jungkook toys with his lip ring, derisively shaking his head. “Why were they stolen from me? For what fucking purpose?”
Raphael winces at Jungkook’s language, before forcing himself to manage it. “They were stolen as a way to teach you a lesson, brother, a very valuable one.”
“And what lesson did I need to learn?”
Raphael sighs, lightly kissing his teeth. “Your time on Earth really didn’t uncover anything, huh?”
Jungkook upturns his hands in a ‘I don’t fucking know’ gesture, causing Raphael to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You did something in Hell, brother. Something you should’ve never done. You were cast out not only to be tested, but to be punished.”
Jungkook scrunches his features with confusion. “What the hell did I do? I don’t remember doing anything.”
“Like I said, your memories were stolen from you, they’re part of the punishment.” Raphael repeats. “But what you did was… a complete violation of your work. You had deviated from the point of your job and started neglecting your duties—something had compromised your position as Lucifer, and the Lord thought it necessary to set you straight.”
Jungkook becomes even more confused, though intrigued—what did he possibly do so wrong? “What? I neglected my duties? How?”
Raphael exhales worriedly, as though the information was grave, and Jungkook was only growing more eager. “Brother, listen. I’m not so sure how much you remember, but this information… it will change you. It will not serve you well.”
“For fuck’s sake, Raphael,” Jungkook curses, throwing up his arms in the air. “Stop being a saint for once and fucking lay it on me.”
Raphael clasps his hands before his lips, speaking seriously. “Brother, there is only one way to return to Hell for you, and it’s not through the way demons traditionally return.” He begins, carefully eyeing his once fellow archangel. “The only way you return is by acknowledging your punishment, and learning your lesson.”
“How do I learn my lesson? What even is it? What am I being punished for?”
“You know what it means to deviate, brother,” Raphael knowingly peers. “You had been led astray by humans, or more accurately, by someone, and began neglecting your duties as Lucifer as a whole. Your punishment was being cast onto Earth, where you would not only live life as a human and suffer as they do, but to reverse how you had been led astray—to reinstate your position as Lucifer.”
Jungkook’s brows climb in an instant, lost. “I… deviated? What do you mean someone?”
Raphael swallows, rubbing his temple—his heavy eyes meet his brother’s with a poignant look, sighing. “The reincarnation of your queen of hell and the love of your life, Lucifer. Lilith.”
Jungkook pauses, blinking multiple times. He feels like a computer whose CPU is running terribly slow. “L-Lilith?”
“Yes, brother. You received your punishment because not only had you become fixated on human life, but you had become terribly obsessed with finding the reincarnation of Lilith. You searched for years, years upon years until finally, you found her, and you’d become far too interested in her for the Lord’s liking. You had begun to neglect your duties, became rebellious, and as a result, your infatuation left you cast out of Hell.”
Jungkook swallows, absorbing the information. His mind runs amok, trying to piece together any traces of his memories to remember this. The reincarnation of Lilith… Lilith? The love of his life? Jungkook can’t process this.
“I… I don’t remember.” Jungkook rambles, his eyes vacant with gravity. “I don’t remember any of this.”
Raphael reaches over then, landing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Let me help you remember.”
Within the second Raphael touches Jungkook, he’s swept into a sea of memories. Flashes of moments spark through his brain, suffusing him with each and every moment that was stolen from him. He remembers his fixation, he remembers the screams of tortured souls in hell, remembers the feeling of his throne, of his duties as Lucifer. He remembers his obsession with you, his unwavering determination to find you, his endless search for the human Lilith had been reincarnated as.
But among all those things, Jungkook remembers one very, distinct thing; your stunning face.
Jungkook’s left heavily breathing when Raphael pulls away, fear and confusion sparkling in his eyes. He rummages through the memories he was gifted back, swiping a shaking hand over his face as he remembers everything… everything.
“So that’s… that’s what I remembered last night.” Jungkook faintly whispers to himself as his line of sight falls towards you, his mind drowning.
“What did you remember, brother?”
Jungkook swallows on a dry throat, nearly trembling. Slowly, he meets his brother’s gaze with vulnerable, empty eyes. “I remembered that I loved her.”
Raphael sighs almost in sympathy, sinking back into his seat. “That’s everything you were meant to salvage on this journey.”
Jungkook can barely think; his mind’s as thick as mud.. He’s reliving those moments in hell, sifting through each one that washes over him. You weren’t just any human, you’re Lilith, the reincarnation of his goddamn lover.
Suddenly, Jungkook recalls seeing your face from the depths of hell, how easily he fell for your sweet smiles and unabashed laughter—how easily you replicated his once queen of Hell. The happiness he felt when he finally found you, after years of tortuous searching. He’d found you when you’d just entered college, kickstarting life as an adult, ready to take on the world. Jungkook’s heart was struck by lightning the second he laid eyes on you, and instantly, you held the vessel within your very hands.
It’s then crazy for Jungkook to ruminate about his arrival on Earth; how he ran into you. It all falls into place; why you’re the one who found him, your undeniable chemistry, why he always felt so incredibly drawn to you, protective of you—so easily fell for you. He realizes then that as Lucifer, he may have initially loved you for being the reincarnation of Lilith, though as Jungkook, upon crash-landing on you, he fell in love with you.
That thought, however, plunges Jungkook’s heart into a pit of despair, recalling Raphael’s earlier words. “Raphael, what lesson did I need to learn before I return to hell? What do I need to do?”
Raphael grimaces here, as though this is the worst part. “The lesson you were meant to learn is that you cannot be with her, brother. The only way you return to hell is if… is if…”
Jungkook’s eyes can’t help but brim with tears, knowing where this is going. “Fucking say it, Raphael.”
The archangel appears hurt even speaking, unable to look his brother in the eye. “You know Lilith was cast out of hell for disobeying Adam; her punishment was to lose the privilege of eternal life, and lose you, her lover.” Raphael explains without a single stutter. “Though there was another part of her punishment, one that many do not know.”
Jungkook grinds his teeth, eyes beaming a crimson red. “What?”
“She is destined to be repeatedly reincarnated as a human across lifetimes, and you are always driven to find her. Your memory of each lifetime is erased, and Lilith’s soul is reincarnated in a different human. In some lifetimes, when you find her, she falls deeply in love with you, though you are always… always destined to be ripped away from her.” Raphael sadly details, still unable to meet Jungkook’s gaze. “She is never meant to be with you, she is to eternally suffer the pain of losing you.”
Jungkook’s heart shatters into thousands of pieces, each one collecting in the bottom of his stomach to eventually burn. “So what I have to do to return to Hell…”
Raphael finally connects with his brother’s eyes, tightly clutching his palms together. “To return to hell, you are to corrupt her human soul beyond redemption—to ensure she remains punished for the rest of her life, and all the lifetimes she lives thereafter. In turn, you are also reminded of your duties as Lucifer, and punished for being led astray—by damning the soul of the one you love most.”
Shocked, Jungkook doesn’t even know what words can elucidate what he feels. He’s done this in lifetimes before? And each time he’s been doomed with this ghastly fate? To shatter your heart and corrupt the soul he’s come to so dearly love? He can’t fathom this, any of it, shaking his head at Raphael.
“This can’t be true, it can’t. I don’t remember fuck of all this.”
Raphael winces, speaking pacifyingly. “Like I said, your memory of every lifetime you’ve found her is always erased, Lucifer—it’s to ensure your punishment and hers lives on.” The archangel elaborates. “You will cease to exist if you do not return to hell, meaning you must damn her soul. If you choose not to, you will both be seized by the Council, and suffer the same fate regardless.”
Jungkook’s utterly devastated, heartbroken, confused. This can’t be possible, it simply can’t. How could someone do something so cruel? Yes, he’s the devil, though punishing the one he loves—you—instead, is entirely harrowing.
It leaves him feeling disgustingly sick.
Jungkook’s eyes then shift towards you—he finds you being your lovable self with the princes of Hell and Raphael’s angel, even chuckling at something the angel says. Jungkook’s chest becomes congested with guilt, feeling suffocated, utterly spent of life. There’s simply no way he can damn your soul to Hell, engrave impenitent sin behind that innocent smile of yours—he can’t possibly do that to you, nor can he live knowing that you’re meant to experience this painful fate on an endless loop.
Rising from his seat, Jungkook stares his archangel brother down, harshly pointing a finger in his direction. “Fuck you, Raphael.”
The archangel becomes alarmed, eyes narrowing in question. “Where are you going, brother? I told you, this is not something you can simply ignore; you must corrupt the woman, it’s imperative.”
“No,” Jungkook assertively puts his foot down. “Fuck you, fuck heaven, fuck this entire sitaution. I will not do that to her, I will never do that to her.”
Raphael is riddled with bewilderment, joining his brother on his feet. “Brother, you do understand that if you refuse to do this, you will be apprehended by the Council and suffer worse? Or if your time runs out on Earth, you will not exist anymore.”
Jungkook clenches his jaw, peering at Raphael with the most unyielding eyes in the world. “Then I’d rather not fucking exist.”
Finished with this conversation, Jungkook leaves the lounging area, ignoring Raphael’s insistence to stop. He only responds with one thing, shouting it.
“And by the way, tell Michael and Gabriel I said fuck you!”
Stomping away, Jungkook immediately raids your chit-chat with your make-shift bodyguards. He snatches your wrist, tugging you away without a word—there are far too many emotions raging inside him.
He listens to you confusedly question him, your mellifluous voice gracing his ears. “Jungkook, what’s wrong? Is everything alright?”
But Jungkook never answers, he simply shoves past every angel without remorse, hitting the elevator button and ushering you inside with him, fuming as the doors shut. He disregards your every word, glaring with the most vacant eyes in the world. He needs to remain stoic to endure his agonizing pain—even if it means ignoring the woman he loves.
Once you grow quiet realizing he won’t utter a word, the silence invites Jungkook to think, to think and think until his mind turns to mush, until one, evident question remains imprinted on the walls of his brain.
What the fuck is he going to do?
“So, what’s he like?” The gorgeous angel Taehyung inquires, leaning his cheek into his palm on the bar counter as his eyes glimmer with eagerness—he’s already growing on you.
“Why are you so curious, Taehyung?” You pull his leg, mimicking his stance. “You stunned by his good looks?”
Taehyung rolls his eyes then, motioning a thumbs down. “Boo, I was just wondering what the fuss is. He’s all I hear about these days.”
“You’re lucky you can even speak about him, angel.” The sin of gluttony, or Seokjin, speaks up. “We can’t even utter his name without your people harassing us.”
Taehyung blows a careless raspberry, picking at his nails. “Not my fault your people are evil and planning things like usurping Lucifer’s throne—real classy.”
Namjoon suddenly scoffs, scrutinizing Taehyung. “And we can handle that on our own, we know our people better than you.”
“And yet you can’t keep them on their respective leashes.”
That comment easily makes Namjoon and Seokjin bare their fangs, eyes glowing a deep red similar to Jungkook’s. Taehyung remains unbothered, sending them the bleakest expression on Earth. “What? Can’t handle the truth when you’re buried beneath all your sins, demons?”
The tension rises in seconds, causing you to step between the men. “Hey, guys, you’re meant to be my bodyguards, not fighting!”
“You’re right, Y/N.” Taehyung valiantly declares. “We’re meant to protect the fair lady, put those eyes away, demons.”
Namjoon and Seokjin unwillingly cooperate, standing either side of you.
“If master’s Y/N weren’t here, we’d be using your halo in a ring-toss game, angel. Don’t forget that.” Seokjin condescends with a saccharine sweet smile—you contort your lips with confusion; a lot of people seem to think you’re Jungkook’s. Do you blame them?
“Probably use you as the marker too, righteous ass being.” Namjoon spits.
Taehyung dreamily sighs, intertwining his hands under his cheek, fluttering his eyelashes. “What a nightmare it would be if I were actually scared of demons.”
You chuckle at his response, tilting your head. “You’re not scared of them, Taehyung?”
“Pft,” Taehyung waves off. “These guys? No way—they’re small-fry. Your man’s the only one that can even get me to sweat bullets.”
“‘My man’? Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Please,” Taehyung peers at you as if you’re missing a braincell. “Did you see the way he almost burned down this place for you? If that ain’t love, I don’t what is.” He preaches, leaning his elbow on the counter. “It’s so rare to see that from him, too.”
Your eyebrows furrow in question, bottom lip protruding. “What’s rare to see?”
“Him being so… monogamous? I don’t know, from what I’ve heard he’s got quite the line of lovers.” Taehyung recalls, sweeping his eyes over the club. “Makes sense of the devil, too, don’t you think? Especially since he’s a looker, I’ve heard he plays with female demons as he pleases.”
That information off-puts you, lightly grimacing. It sounds so wrong to hear—the Jungkook you know wouldn’t do that. He may be obnoxiously cocky and flirtatious, but from what you’ve seen, Jungkook rarely ever laid eyes on another female that wasn’t you. He’s extremely loyal, and his specific affection towards you always made you giddy.
But now, you wonder if perhaps you were wrong. The Jungkook you know is not the same one who ruled Hell, who had every demon at his beck and call and, as Yoongi mentioned, was the epitome of sin, someone truly wicked. How do you know what Taehyung’s saying isn’t true?
“I… didn’t know that.” You oddly cough.
“Well of course you didn’t, I don’t think he’d willingly mention it.” Taehyung opens your eyes to another truth, twisting the imaginary arrow Jungkook’s gut-wrenching situation had already shot through your heart—it hurts like hell.
You flash him a forced smile, attempting to subdue any feelings of disappointment. This is actually good news, however; perhaps this information will sever your pesky bond with him, make you realize he’s truly the terrible, devilish being everyone makes him out to be, and you can hate him instead.
Loving him is so much worse.
Your damper mood springs life into Taehyung’s next topic of discussion, clearly trying to distract you as he nitpicks at Namjoon and Seokjin, while the two princes harp on Taehyung’s angelicness. You’re enjoying their company until the devil himself appears, though it’s not with a smile or laugh.
Jungkook appears as stoic as ever.
He never utters a word, simply snatches your wrist and drags you across the banquet floor towards the elevators with haste. He never answers any of your questions, and while you would’ve regularly spat at him for it, this time Jungkook’s energy was so dense, you could’ve choked.
Something terrible was on his mind.
“Okay, will you tell me now what happened?” You prod Jungkook, who declared he needed some time alone on the balcony, and shut you out half an hour ago. You’ve decided to bug him now, a robe hugging your body, your hair and makeup the only remnants of tonight’s event.
Jungkook even shredded off his jacket, only left in his black dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up, tie pulled slightly loose—he’s undeniably gorgeous.
Jungkook doesn’t answer you, yet again, his vision rather focused on observing the bustling city life below. You sigh, leaving the balcony door open as you clutch your robe tighter, meandering out. You join him by the railing, though maintain your distance—you could still feel the heat of his anger permeating from him.
“Jungkook?” You softly request, leaning your upper arm against the metal rod as you turn to face him—he’s profoundly brooding, his jaw drawn tight, eyes entirely desolate.
His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, his line of sight zeroed in on his view, though you soon realize he’s looking at nothing at all, a bleak void—it’s like he’s deserted his own mind. “Not now, Y/N. Go to sleep.”
His voice sounds so tired, exhausted, but also dismissive. The tone leaves you defensively stepping back, narrowing your eyes. “How can I go to sleep when I’m worried about you?”
“Then stop worrying.” He snips. “Do us both a favour and go to sleep.”
Now you scoff, slowly licking your lips. “Wow, there it is again.” You sardonically dig, tightening your crossed arms. “You turn into a complete asshole whenever I’m not your obedient doll.”
Jungkook grinds his teeth. “Y/N, let it go. Please let your head find a fucking pillow.”
His language pisses you off, daring to step closer to him, frustration etched into your every feature. “You’re unbelievable. We’ve already fucking been over this, I’m not just some object you take everywhere with you, Jungkook. I’m your partner, I’m someone you can talk to, okay? What’s bothering you?”
Jungkook shakes his head, pressing his lips together as his eyes glisten in the moonlight—pain is engraved into his dark irises. “This isn’t something I can say; I can’t. You’re better off not knowing, so sleep. Please, just sleep.”
His guardedness saddens you, deeply wounded by how little Jungkook seems to trust you. What was so terrible about you that he couldn’t confide in you? Were you that annoying? Have you truly been a nuisance to him this entire time? “Why do you hate me, Jungkook? What did I ever do to you?”
Jungkook’s eyes finally flash in your direction, puzzled. “What?”
“What do you have against me? I know I’m annoying, and we fight all the time and can never agree, but I thought I was at least helping you—I thought we were friends.” You can’t help the moisture that clouds your vision, swallowing your tears back —you can’t show him how much he’s been tearing your heart apart.
Jungkook’s face is riddled with confusion. “Y/N, what? What are you saying? Where is this coming from?”
His obliviousness only pisses you off more—do you really mean that little to him? That he’s completely clueless of how he’s been treating you? Your emotions reach a boiling point; you’ve been subduing them ever since Yoongi shattered your heart yesterday, and now Jungkook probably genuinely despises you? Your world is spiralling, your voice thick with misery.
“Even if I mean nothing to you, the least you could do is fucking talk to me.” You grit through tears, sniffling them away as you valiantly defend yourself. “You can’t just drag me out here and use me for your own good. Even if I’m a nuisance to you, the least you can do is treat me like a fucking human being!”
“Y/N, what the fuck are you on about?” Jungkook gesticulates, holding out his hands in bewilderment. “I literally have no clue what you’re talking about.”
Enraged, he only worsens your state, sending you into a tornado of emotions. “You’re so–you’re such an ass! I get it, alright? It shouldn’t have been me, you would’ve rather taken this trip with anyone but my annoying ass, right? With any one of your little she-demons that stroke your damn ego the right way? Someone you can easily play around with? Will listen to you? You hate that I’m not one of them, you hate me because I’ll never be like them!”
“Y/N, what is wrong with you? None of that is true! Where are you getting this from?!”
“From your fucking behvaiour, you demon!” You roar with wrath. “I’m the biggest inconvenience on the planet to you, aren’t I?!”
“No! When did I ever say that?!”
“You don’t have to say it for me to know!” You screech, pouring your heart into your words. “I’m sorry I’m not like the others, Jungkook. I’m so fucking sorry I’m not what you wanted, I’m sorry you got stuck with me—plain old fucking me that you can’t stand, that never listens to you and is everything you despise. I know you wish I was somebody else, somebody you could talk to, somebody you didn’t hate—”
“Y/N, for fuck’s sake, there isn’t anybody else!” Jungkook suddenly erupts, his eyes burning with vehement anger. “I don’t hate you, I’m fucking in love with you!”
Your chest feels as though you’d been sucker punched, frozen in your spot. Time is slow and yet, never progresses fast enough—you blink at him multiple times. “You… what?”
“Yes! I’m fucking in love with you!” Jungkook explicitly emphasizes to stick it inside your head. “You want me to talk to you? You want me to tell you exactly what Raphael told me? Fine.” He grits, decreasing the space between you to pierce your very soul.
“You wanna know why it isn’t anybody else, Y/N? Why I sometimes become cold and can’t even look in your direction? Why my behavior changes so much? Because I can’t fucking handle how much I love you sometimes.” Jungkook’s voice resonates with emotion, gripping you. “Because there’s been something about you I haven’t been able to shake ever since the day I met you. And you wanna know what that something is? What I finally found out? You’re fucking Lilith, Y/N, the reincarnation of the love of my life.”
A freight train hits you, struggling to form a sentence. “I’m… who?”
“Lilith; the woman who goddamn stole my heart and has never given it back to me since.” He stresses.
Utterly nonplussed, your jaw remains agape, staring at him in complete shock. “I’m… Lilith? You mean—you mean the fucking premordial she-demon? That Lilith?”
“Yes,” Jungkook confirms, his voice wavering with vulnerability. “Raphael gave me my memories back, and I remember everything now. You’re my lover and my fucking queen of Hell.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” You stop all of this—it’s far too heavy to process. “He told you why you were cast out of hell, why?”
“It was my punishment because I deviated from my duties by being in love with you. I’d searched for Lilith’s reincarnation for years until I found her—and it was you, Y/N, you.” Jungkook presses, nearing your figure to curl his palms around your arms, gazing at you meaningfully. “We were destined to meet, Y/N—you’re the love of my life.”
His words leave your heart melting, though your mind racing. “You were cast out of hell… because of me?”
He nods, gently smiling at you. His tattooed hand cradles your cheek, peering at you with the most sincerity in the world. His irises gleam with sweet honey, though you’re the complete opposite. Jungkook suffered all of this because of you? You’re the cause of all the terrible things he’s had to endure? He was punished because of you?
“Yes, there’s a way I can return, too. But it’s not… it’s not something I can do, it’s something I can’t possibly stand to do.” Jungkook’s desperate voice catches your attention, your eyes glossing over with tears.
“What is it?”
“I…” Jungkook swallows, pain spreading across his features as he averts his eyes. “There’s a long story, but I apparently have to corrupt you—the one I love most—to damn your soul to hell and reinstate my position as Lucifer.”
The information takes time to process in your head—your breaths are becoming more uneven. “You… you have to corrupt me? Damn my soul to hell?”
“Yes, but you know I could never do that, angel.” Jungkook coos, searching your eyes deeply. “I could never, never let you go to hell, Y/N. You’re too precious to me, too fucking precious.”
He’s making flowers bloom inside your chest, but your mind is conflicted, channeling your own unbridled feelings for him. “But if it means… you can go back…”
“No, no.” Jungkook immediately denies, winding his arms around you to engulf you in a tight, warm hug. He buries his hand in your hair, holding you dearly. “This isn’t something debatable, angel. I’m not damning your soul, I’m staying here with you, right fucking here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Something tears itself apart inside you; there are far too many emotions clouding you. Jungkook deserves to go home, he deserved it for everything he’s already suffered because of you. He’ll lose his powers, he’ll entirely cease to exist if he stays here with you—it’s then you remember something blood-boiling.
Your eyes burn with betrayal as you pull away from him, tears shaking within them. “You liar…”
“What?” His eyebrows furrow.
“You’re a fucking liar,” you accuse him, smacking his hand from your cheek, staring daggers at him. “You fucking knew…you’ve known all along.”
“What? Knew what?”
“You’re a liar for telling me you’re not going anywhere, that you’ll stay with me,” your voice quavers, but you uphold your strength, irises beaming with frustration. “You’ve known this whole time that if you lose your powers, you’ll stop existing!”
Jungkook’s eyes widen with horror, left speechless as he keeps your gaze. Nothing comes out of his mouth, utterly caught off-guard. “I…”
“You knew, you fucking knew!” You cry out, shoving him away from you. “You knew that if your powers ran out, you’d stop existing, you knew this whole time and didn’t tell me!” Your voice is far from calm, heart beating erratically as you passionately voice your indignation. “You knew this whole time, this whole time you’ve known the more time you spend with me, the more you fucking lose—and you lied, you lied to me!”
Jungkook’s lips can’t iterate a sentence, stepping towards you with eyes that detail millions of different things. “Y/N, I thought I was—”
“No, save it, save it!” You raise your hand to stop him. “You promised me, you made a pinky promise that you’d always be there, knowing that you wouldn’t, that you’d turn into a cloud of fucking smoke and disappear from my life forever!”
He regards you with pained, sad eyes, exacerbating your emotions. “And now that you can survive, that you have a chance to go home, you’re gonna stay here? You’re gonna risk everything you’ve ever known just so that you don’t corrupt my soul?”
Jungkook remains quiet, licking his lips as his hands find his hips. His vacant gaze is unchanging, agonizing, You feel like a hot mess, spiralling in front of him as every heart-wrenching emotion crashes down on you. “You’re going to leave… you’re gonna fucking leave me.” Your voice breaks, tears collecting in your eyes as they threaten to spill over. “You said you’d never leave me, you said you wouldn’t! You lied to me!”
Suddenly, anger boils over inside you. You stalk over to the demon and shove at him, hating that sympathetic look on his face, his composed silence, his angering lack of emotions. “Say something! Fucking say something, you ass!”
But he maintains his state, his expression riddled with inconceivable pain as he watches you. You still attempt to shove him, and even though it barely works, Jungkook lets you convey your anger this way. “I hate you, I hate you!” You repeatedly yell, shoving him again because it’s all you know, it's your only outlet—and Jungkook lets you.
“I hate you… I fucking hate you.” Sobs break out of you, tears streaming down your face as your hits weaken, your entire body overwhelmed with sorrow. How could he do this to you? How could he give you false hope? How could he make you fall in love with him, when you’re both doomed for something so tragic? “I hate you… I hate you…”
“I know.” Jungkook says, his voice constrained, as though he were holding back in his own tears. You lock your eyes to find him hurting, too, peering into your broken soul. He searches you, long and deep, only able to utter two words. “I know.”
“You lied to me… how could you?” You ask through tears, shaking your head, your lips terribly trembling. “I’ve never hated anyone… more than I hate you.”
“I know.” He says once again, curling his hands around your wrists once you stop hitting him, and your forehead falls against his chest, weeping into him.
“I hate you… I hate you…”
“I know, Y/N, I know.” He says into your hair, his voice mellow and rich. It only worsens your emotions, more tears escaping your aching eyes.
“You’re leaving me… you’re leaving… I hate you.” You repeatedly choke, only for Jungkook to respond each time with the same words. “I know.”
And when you peer up at him, mascara smudged underneath your eyes, lips quivering with misery, your figure incessantly shaking, Jungkook thinks he’s never seen anyone more beautiful. His heart aches, his chest feels terribly tight and sheer misery intoxicates his lungs, but it’s that sad, sad look in your eyes that kills him—the look of someone who can’t convey what’s in their heart.
He can hear you so loud and clear.
“I hate you.”
I love you.
“I hate you.”
I love you.
When Jungkook hears your thoughts, hears the true voice of your feelings—only one, single thing comes to his mind. He unravels his hands from yours, tips your chin upwards, and beckons you softly. “Y/N… look at me.”
You’re dissolving into a river of tears, refusing to meet his eyes. “No, fuck you. I hate you…”
“Y/N…” Jungkook coos as his lips brush yours, his breath the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. “Y/N, listen to me. Kiss me.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, heart spasming inside your chest—the pain you feel is unbearable. “I can’t… don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to me… Jungkook.”
Your sobs shatter Jungkook’s heart, whispering his words softly. “Kiss me, Y/N, kiss me right now.”
Your breaths become unstable, shaking your head because it would tear apart every fibre of your being to kiss him right now, to hold him, to touch him, and know he’ll disappear, to know that he’ll only become a memory—that you’ll feel the ghost of him for the rest of your life.
Your uneven breathing patterns somehow synchroniz, emotions on a highline as Jungkook’s lips tease yours. Both his hands rise to cradle your face, touching your foreheads together, begging you. “Y/N, just kiss me.”
You shakily whimper, causing Jungkook to decrease any and all space between you. When your lips terribly quiver, nearly hyperventilating, Jungkook’s eyes fill with moisture, exhaling one last time before he loses every ounce of his composure.
His lips collide with yours.
He invades your entire system, kissing you so powerfully you feel winded, completely unprepared. It hurts, it hurts to feel him, it hurts to be reminded of his scent, to feel the softness of his lips, to feel his warmth. Your feelings for him override your hurt, however, replacing it with bittersweet longing.
Instinctually, you feed into his kiss, gripping his dress shirt against his chest. Jungkook curls a hand around your waist, pressing your body into his as his other grips your face, kissing you deeply. He consumes you, kisses you with such vehemence you could feel his emotions through his mouth, his sheer desperation for you
You pull away once your heart achingly contracts, sniffling. “It hurts, Jungkook. It hurts…”
“I know, baby.” His gentle voice saturates your ears, his hot breath fanning across your wet lips, his thumb caressing your cheek. “It’s killing me, too.”
His lips connect with yours again, vying for every inch of your soul. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, and it’s natural the way you allow him access—he feels natural. His lip ring leaves a tingling sensation across your lips, buzzing with unequivocal arousal.
Now you understand your mysterious familiarity with Jungkook; in his words, you were destined for one another, and now all you craved was for his body to collide with yours—to infect you with his addictive heat.
Jungkook plunges his tongue inside your mouth, providing small, tasteful licks that send your knees buckling. You invade him, too, moving your wet muscle with him to embed his taste in you forever. Then, he increases his force, clutching you so harshly it’s as though he believed you’d slip away. Jungkook groans into the kiss when your hand slithers into his hair, tugging his dark, luscious locks.
It drives something in Jungkook, causing his hands to roll down your back and grip your ass—you moan deliriously into him, feeling your pussy spasm.
“Fuck…” Jungkook curses under his breath, diving in for another head-spinning kiss. His roaming, grabby hands spike arousal throughout your veins, ignited by his proliferating touch. Your thin robe helped his fingers form to the curves of your body, fondling, squeezing, grabbing what he could, and you wanted—no—you needed to devour this man.
Your hormones fuel you to take charge, turning your entangled bodies to walk Jungkook towards the nearest wall. He groans when you guide him backwards, shoving him against the surface.
The intensity is sweltering once you rule over him, mouths and tongues dancing with each other for passionate, delirious kisses, his hands gliding up and down your sides. His body feels glorious, and you desire every ounce of his invigorating presence, swirling your tongue around his.
Your fingers dart towards the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with needy, wanton haste. You rip his shirt open and allow your hands to traverse his striking frame, moulding your hands to his impressive muscles.
The action drives Jungkook to the brink of insanity, slotting his hands around the lapels of your robe and throwing it off your shoulders. He lets the thin fabric hit the floor to expose your naked body, only panties hugging your hips.
He instantly presses your front against his, lips reconnecting for a carnal kiss. His skin feels scorching hot against yours, pussy fluttering when your nipples caress his strong chest. You let out a pleasurable moan, making out with him shamelessly, your soul lit on fire.
Your sighs drive him to groan into your mouth, his hands travelling downwards to cup the back of your thighs. You leap into his arms, legs cradling his thin waist as he supports you with a hand, the other splayed in between your bare shoulder blades.
Jungkook wastes no time in stepping towards the balcony doors, your lips hot on each other as you swallow his mouth. Jungkook equally reciprocates, your groans melding together to create a symphony.
Jungkook finds the edge of his bed, leaning over to lay you across his sheets. He pulls away to hover above you, his eyes blown out as he admires your frame beneath him. He pants just like you, hot and heavy, skin already balmy with sweat.
He peers at you with fascination, his hand delicately cupping your cheek, running his thumb along the apple. Your chest feels weightless when he gently weaves his hand into your hair, casting it away to watch each strand gracefully slip through his fingers.
“Fuck…” Jungkook quietly swears, eyes flitting over every gorgeous feature upon your face. “I’m really fucking in love with you.”
Feeling like the most cherished being on Earth, your heart beams, eyes softening with tears once the emotions of tonight fill you. You reach your hands out, capturing his cheeks in your palms.
“Jungkook…” You call him, his hand cradling yours on his cheek.
“Yes?”
“I….” You softly begin, met by Jungkook’s shimmering eyes. You can’t complete your statement, you can’t possibly tell him right now that you love him. If you do, it feels like the end, and you crave for this moment to last forever.
Instead, you lift up to connect your mouths, kissing him deeply. Jungkook slithers his hand to the back of your neck, supporting you as he deepens your kiss. He feels fiery hot, his tongue exploring your mouth as he lays you back down on his bed.
His lips kiss past your mouth, trailing blazing pecks along your jaw. You sigh once he finds your neck, pressing slow, intimate kisses that leave your body squirming.
He suddenly deatches to lean back and stands to his full height, removing his shirt as his bewitching eyes remain on you, spelling your doom. His body was certainly forged in Hell, appearingly sinfully hot. He returns to you, sliding his hands over your arms and splaying them above you against his sheets, his mouth latching onto your pulse point.
He languidly tongues your neck, occasionally suckling with his teeth. His breath tickles your skin so divinely your pussy gushes. He consumes your neck, whining and moaning as he leaves love bites all along your carotid—the mauve blossoms are a symbol of his love.
Soon, his lips travel elsewhere, roaming your body with fiery kisses along your skin. He teases one of your nipples before his mouth finds your butterfly tattoo. He presses affectionate kisses to the art, even casting his tongue out to lick the ink. You shudder with pleasure, pussy buzzing with unbridled arousal.
Jungkook suddenly trails a hand down your arm, fingers teasing your susceptible skin as he glides down your chest, your stomach, your abdomen, until he suddenly cups your wet sex through your underwear. You gasp; Jungkook is too excited by the reaction.
“So wet, angel.” He coos with a smug grin, daring to slightly move the pads of his fingers over your cunt; you mewl instantly.
“Jungkook-!”
“My god…” he trails, continuing his languid movements as you moan. “You’re breath-taking when you moan.”
Whimpering, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, throwing your head back. Heat collects between your legs without pause, and he’s barely touched you yet. “Jungkook…”
“Yeah?” He purrs, his hand travelling up your underwear to tease the band. Your chest rises and falls with pants, meeting his carnal eyes—they’re burning a deep, deep shade of venetian red.
Maintaining sizzling eye contact, Jungkook slips aside your underwear, suddenly sliding his fingers across your bare, soaked pussy folds. He deeply groans, stealing a peek at your abundant slick. “Fuck, baby… you’re so wet. You’re dripping.” He marvels, watching strings of your essence coat his tattooed fingers.
He swipes his fingers through you, meeting your clit to draw slow, tight circles—your body vibrates with heavenly pleasure. “Oh–my fucking god, Jungkook.”
“Mmm.” He hums, deep and rich, gracing your ear drums. He dips down for a quick, sweet kiss, before he decides to raise hell—he unexpectedly plunges one of his thick fingers inside your pussy. You nearly cry out, slapping a hand over your mouth to silence yourself. You quiver, body shaking with just the intrusion of his finger; your velvety walls grip him for dear life.
“Fuck me.” He curses, slowly inserting his digit, completely fascinated. “Your pussy is so tiny, so tight.” He comments in awe, reaching in as far as he can. Your plushy walls flutter around him, spasming with desirous need. Jungkook watches as your clit visibly throbs around him, cursing again. “Shit, I think I’m too big for you, baby.”
You pout, almost whimpering—until Jungkook leans down and mumbles his sinful words into your ear, deep and mellow. “We’ll just have to stretch you out, angel.”
Inhaling sharply, Jungkook begins slowly, steadily sliding his finger inside you. He grips the space between your shoulders, cushioning you as you arch off his sheets. You can feel his thick digit caressing your insides, developing a sensual pace that massages your walls.
You moan pleasruably, reaching out to grip his bicep. “So good, Jungkook. So good… ah!”
“You’re so sexy, so gorgeous.” Jungkook breathes through a haze, as though the only thing on his mind is you. Jungkook dips down to mold his mouth to yours, sloppily kissing you. He devours the sounds of your moans, moving his hand as though he were fucking you, slow and intimate; you’re going haywire.
“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck.” You cry out, the heat he produces inside you unlike any other. You clamp your hand over your mouth again, only for Jungkook’s smile to morph into an unhappy look. He snatches your hand and ensnares it above you, his one hand locking down both your wrists into his sheets; he completely owns your body in that moment.
“You sound like this for me, angel. Only me.” He grits, his rich voice utterly hypnotizing. “They’re the sounds you make for the devil, and I will fucking hear them.”
You gush all over his hand, so immensely turned on your body is burning like an azure flame. Your moan is pathetic, eyes begging him to give you more, to utterly ravage every part of you. Jungkook increases the speed of his finger in that instant, but adds a surprise.
He pushes a second finger inside you.
Your body erupts, groaning as he slows down his pace, his fingers lazily thrusting inside you. He’s so slow it feels painful, your walls secreeting your juices by the second, coating him so abundantly he could’ve slipped his cock inside you.
Jungkook’s mouth hovers above yours, closely observing your reactions; he’s a mess for them.
“The cutest fucking angel ever.” He dotes, pecking your lips. “You like being fingered, huh? Love my fingers inside you?”
You whimper, tears brimming your eyes as you barely manage to hang on. Your fucked out expression says it all, and Jungkook’s eyes gloss over with sheer carnality, beginning to twist his fingers inside you. You cry out instantly, straining against his grip but he holds you captive, your body jerking off his sheets.
“Jungkook, shit!”
“Fuck me, you’re so responsive.” He proudly smirks before diving in for kisses, shamelessly making out with you. You whimper into his mouth each time he drives into you, his fingertips tickling your frontal walls, caressing that g-spot he so cleverly locates.
Your limbs become jelly, shaking as your legs threaten to give away. He increases his velocity, finger-fucking you faster, propelling into your cunt so sensually, so languidly you were certain it would be your undoing. But Jungkook had promised something for the night, and he reminds you of that soon.
He intertwines one of his hands between your fingers, freeing your other one. His eyes bore into yours, melting into sweet, affectionate orbs of honey. “Hold onto me for this, Y/N.”
Heeding his request, you cling your arm around his neck. Jungkook presses your body into his, your boobs squishing against his hard pecs. He kisses you softly before his fingers pull out of your sex, only to shove a third finger inside your cunt.
The gasp that escapes you is pornographic, bouncing off the walls as you cry out. You’ve never once had a man finger you with three digits before, hiding your face into Jungkook’s shoulder as you claw at his back, nails digging into his skin.
“Fuck!”
“It’s okay. I know, angel, I know.” Jungkook pacifies you, pressing soothing kisses to your face as he slowly pulls out, only to dive back in. He pierces you again with his three fingers, feeling your cunt flutter around him, thrusting softly.
You let out a broken moan, shaking as he provides you with orgasmic pleasure. He curls his digits masterfully inside you, glides across that one sweet spot that’s tying a knot inside your stomach, ready to snap.
“Jungkook… oh my god… I–ngh.” You pant into his neck, the heat between your legs scorching hot. As a result, Jungkook maneuvers his fingers a little faster, harder, swirling them around inside you to feel your walls contract.
“So fucking tight, holy shit.” He curses, his heat permeating your skin. He meets you for another kiss, your tongue dancing across his lip ring as he moans, breaking away afterwards. “I want you to come, Y/N. Come for me, angel.”
You shiver, enlivened by the words his mellifluous voice coos. Your orgasm is pending inside you, bubbling at the bottom of your abdomen as you chase him for more, fucking back on Jungkook’s fingers. He grunts animalistically, watching your body move.
“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, Y/N, fuuuck.” He draws out, fucking his fingers into you faster. You join his speed, letting him ram himself inside you because you desire nothing different. And just when you believe this is the height of your pleasure, the peak of your unravelling, Jungkook presses his thumb down on your clit.
Every inch of your body jerks alive.
“Oh my fuck, Jungkook!” You grip his bicep like it’s your lifeline, the pleasure shooting sparks of arousal throughout your sex. He massages the pad of his thumb into you, toying with your wet pearl like a joystick. He controls you just like that, rubbing you so intoxicatingly your eyes are rolling back, fluttering shut; you’ve never felt something this otherworldly.
“Come for me, angel.” Jungkook coos, kissing you between his pants, his breaths tickling your wet mouth. “Let me see you come.”
And with his single command, your moans reach a crescendo. Something violently snaps inside the bottom of your stomach, utterly exploding. The intensity of your orgasm leaves you breathless, speechless, chest inflating and deflating as you recollect oxygen—you nearly black out with how powerful your release was. Jungkook showers you in kisses, slowly thrusting his fingers to ease your spasming walls. He soon comes to a halt, allowing you to regain yourself.
He smiles proudly once he glances at his hand, pulling it out. “You soaked my hand, fuck.” He curses. “That’s fucking sexy.”
He kisses you before bringing his tattooed hand before his mouth. His red, devilish eyes hold yours as he slips a finger inside his mouth, sucking on his digit. You watch in awe as he repeats the same with the other two, feeling your pussy flutter once again as he licks your cum off him.
His tattooed fingers pop out of his mouth, and you’re completely taken by lust. You didn’t care if you’d just experienced an orgasm; you wanted more of him, so much more. You throw your arms around him and crash your lips on him, never able to tire of his addicting mouth, the ecstasy his kisses fill you with.
Your hands mold to his slabs of muscles, traversing his strong shoulders, his broad chest, his deliciously taut stomach before you latch onto his belt. You’re impatient, fingers toying with the metal clasp as you crave his flesh, crave it inside you in any way; your mouth, your pussy, anything to pleasure you both infinitely.
Jungkook chuckles into your kiss, his hands either side of your figure. “Always been so impatient, huh?”
You laugh, too, smiling through your liplocks. “What can I say? You’re hotter than hell.”
Your mouths connect again, licking at each other’s tongues to savour each other’s flavour. It’s slow and nasty, lips swollen with how hard your mouths collide.
Far too restless, your hands plant against his chest to shove him back, scooching closer to the edge of the bed as Jungkook falters to his full height. You eye him above with the look of a mischievous kitten, your smaller hands undoing his belt with eagerness.
Jungkook fondly chuckles, burying his tattooed hand into your hair. He affectionately brushes through it, watching you with curved lips. “You’re cute when you think you can take on anything, angel.” He says, relishing in your keenness. “But you don’t get it, baby; I’m too big.”
Scoffing, you roll your eyes at his wanring, tearing open his pesky belt. You brush your palm over his bulge, watching Jungkook’s body tense, his eyes squeeze shut. “And I think…” You trail, teasingly running your hand over him, slowly unclasping his dress pants. Your fingers hook on his waistband, suddenly tugging him towards you with force—Jungkook’s eyes widen at the feline-like look in your eyes.
“Someone needs to kill your ego, and it’s gonna be me.”
Shoving his dress pants down, Jungkook panics, cupping your jaw. “Y/N, I’m serious, you can’t put me in your mouth.”
You narrow your eyes, ignoring him.
Jungkook kisses his teeth, bending down to seriously peer into your irises, his thumb and index finger pinching your cheeks so your lips form a pout. “Angel, I’m not kidding. If you put me in your mouth, I’ll go insane and destroy your throat, and I’m not keen on hurting the love of my life when I’ve finally found her.”
Your heart melts inside your chest, bottom lip protruding at his sweet words; but your determination is stronger. Challenging him, you sink his pants lower, revealing his erection inside his boxers—you send him the most courageous look in the world. “In case you forgot, Jungkook, according to you I was once your queen; I can do anything.” You back-talk matter-of-factly. “So shut the fuck up and let me treat you like my king.”
Jungkook can’t formulate a comeback, left in awe. He finally scoffs proudly. “Oh yeah, you’re definitely my girl.”
Hiding a sheepish grin, Jungkook helps you remove his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers. His cock is extremely hard, practically screaming to be set free. You lean forward and kiss Jungkook’s stomach, laying soft pecks that cause him to cup your head with sighs. His fingers weave through your locks, stroking you like his good girl; you feel incredibly loved.
He sighs once you reach his navel, kissing downwards as your hand wraps around his hard dick; you nearly choke, he feels insanely thick.
Jungkook subdues a groan, attempting to mask his reactions, but you’re far too keen. You cup your hand around him a little harder and stroke his member, drawing out a deep sigh from him. You can feel his pre-cum through his black boxers, toying with him when you let a finger run over his tip.
Jungkook groans through a scoff, his hand tightening in your hair. “You’re a fucking brat, aren’t you?”
You hum in acknowledgement, a shit-eating grin upon your face. “I think you’ve known that all along, demon.” You condescend, hands hooking onto his boxers, eyes glimmering with trouble. “But I think you’ve always liked putting me in my place.”
In that same second, you remove Jungkook’s boxers, sweeping them down to reveal the beast you’ve been waiting for ever since you laid eyes on him.
You physically choke on air.
Jungkook throws his head back with a laugh at your nonplussed expression, his hand affectionately caressing your hair. “See? Told ya.”
You see, Jungkook had the tendency to inflate his ego, so you surmised he was merely playing himself up with the warnings of his well-endowment. Little did you Jungkook had a gigantic ego for a reason; he could back it up with his massive dick.
He’s long and girthy; you could tell he’d hurt within just the first inch of his enormous head. His thickness in particular is what left you speechless, gawking at how his veins sprawl along his throbbing meat, his bulbuous tip leaking delicious pearls of pre-cum.
You swallow considering what he’d feel like in your mouth.
Shooting him a haughty look, your hands wrap around his bare shaft. You suppress another gasp; he’s intensely hot. His hardness was already tempting you, drooling like a hungry animal as you gently pump him.
Without warning, your lips wrap around Jungkook’s decadent tip, your tongue swiping through his perfect slit.
“Fuck.” Jungkook shakily groans, rich and deep, gripping your hair. You slightly sink down on his length, granting him an inch with your tongue that explores his taste. You feel spikes of arousal surge towards your pussy, set alight but his low, masculine sounds.
“Y/N… you feel so—fuck.” Jungkook can’t speak, his thighs muscles flexing as you moan around him.
You manage another two inches of him before your mouth already feels full, tightening your lips around him to begin a bobbing motion. You’re slow at first, pulling back as your tongue swipes the underside of his cock, before sinking down further, groaning when his taste hits your tongue.
The vibration causes Jungkook to grunt so ferally, his hips propel forward without warning. Your eyes water when he suddenly slams the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex. Jungkook lets out a string of curses as he withdraws, cradling your cheek.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, baby.” He apologizes, watching his Adam’s apple bob with a swallow. “You’re just… I’ve thought about this too many times.”
His confession causes your cheeks to warm, fuelled to provide him the best suck of his life. Feeling confident, your tongue plays with him, kitten-licking his tip and around it, applying pressure to his leaking slit. Jungkook hisses, both of his hands now sliding into your hair, crafting a makeshift ponytail.
You send him a carnivorous look from below, before slipping him into your mouth and this time, taking him as far as you can. You feel him touch the back of your throat with an inch or two still left to spare, daring to swallow around him. Jungkook keens, firmly gripping your strands as he pleasurably groans.
“Holy fuck.” He cusses, his breaths desperately uneven. “Your tiny fucking mouth around my cock… I’ll lose it.”
You peer up to find his head leaned back, the column of his throat an incredibly sexy sight, his stomach muscles contracting as he no doubt holds himself together. Your hands glide over his thighs, caressing him as you pop his dick out of your mouth.
“Jungkook, look at me.” You coo from below, tone sweetened by innocence.
Jungkook exhales loudly, swallowing harshly once again—he appears as though it’s taking himself and an army to contain his arousal. “Y/N, I’ll die if I do.”
“Then I’ll see you in hell, my king.”
He laughs at your snark, lowering his head to gaze at you below, and something carnal overwhelms you both. His eye contact invades your system with intoxicating lust, suffusing you with animalistic desire. You stop the games, needing to pleasure Jungkook until he’s spent, until he’s a sweaty, needy mess above you, until he ceaselessly moans your name and releases his milky cum on your tongue.
Driven by the salacious thought, you sink your mouth onto his cock, vacuuming your cheeks. You draw him in and out of you, plunging his thick flesh inside your throat as tears brim your eyes. Jungkook’s moans are indefinite, gripping your hair harder as your bobbing motions cause him to buckle, groaning out in satisfaction.
Crafting an erotic pace, you moan as his decandent taste invades your tongue, adoring the heft of him in your mouth. You simultaneously pump his sizeable dick as your lips suck graciously around him, the wet, splurping noises echoing in your suite.
The man above you is far from sane, his breaths rugged, the deep sounds from the back of his throat manifesting in desirous grunts. Soon, shoving more of him past your lips isn’t enough for Jungkook, and insanity’s dawning on him.
Jungkook begins thrusting into your mouth, gently inserting his cock until he’s stroking the back of your throat. His pupils blow out as he observes you below, choking on his flesh, adores the sight of himself repeatedly disappearing inside your mouth until he’s crazy for you.
His groans are unstoppable, overwhelmed by the feeling of your plush, playful tongue until his mind tells him to ram inside your mouth, watch you swallow his hot seed.
He grits his teeth, grunting as he rhythmically rocks himself inside your mouth, relishing in your tight cheeks, your wet muscle swiveling around him like he’s a popsicle.
You gag around him, noticing how Jungkook loses precision with each thrust, each stroke, and his moans are growing louder, his power harder. He increases his speed as he becomes addicted to fucking your throat, holding your head in place as he plunges inside for his pleasure, and you take him with all your might. He uses the grip on your hair to maintain his momentum, hissing as he sheats himself inside your cheeks, brokenly groaning whenever you gag on him.
Tears stream down your face, your jaw aches, and your throat is becoming battered, but Jungkook’s cock feels like it belongs inside you, and you want nothing more than to grant him his own heaven.
Just when you swallow around him, begin moving your head in synch with his strokes, Jungkook stops all movement, panting wildly. He shakes his head, loosening his grip in your head. “No, no no no.”
He pulls out of your mouth and you cough, finally scrounging for the air you need. You send him a confused look, opening your mouth to question him.
“Jung–” But you have no time, because Jungkook crashes his lips against yours so hard you fall back against the bed. His hands slip into yours and hold them hostage above you, kissing you fervently, deeply. He feels feverishly hot, as though something entirely new has invaded his system. The passion of his movements feels powerful, his tongue in complete disarray inside your mouth.
His hands trail down towards your legs, cupping your thighs. He tugs you flush his body, making your legs cradle his thin waist as he effortlessly positions you. You cry out a moan when Jungkook’s hard flesh caresses your pussy folds, but he eats up the sound, indulging in your mouth completely.
He breaks away to wrap his hand around his cock, fucking his own fist. His tip touches your folds every so often, mewling for him to sink himself inside you. Jungkook stops working his cock, supporting himself above you on his elbows. He laces his fingers with yours, breathing hard, dipping down for a short, sweet kiss. His eyes become round with affection; those brown orbs have utterly stolen your heart.
“Hey, listen.” He speaks quietly, flitting across every feature upon your face. “Do you want to do this? Are you 100% sure about this?”
Something profound flutters inside your chest, nearly tearing up when he asks. Jungkook notices, and a soft smile graces his lips, running his thumb along the apple of your cheek, speaking breathily. “I just want to make sure; if you’re not ready, we can stop, angel.”
His concern breaks you; how could he stop everything when he didn’t even come? Or receive half the pleasure he gave you? You shake your head, brushing your hand through his dark, luscious hair. “I’m so ready, Jungkook, please.” You beg him, gripping the back of his neck, eyes glossing over with need. “I want you right now, all of you.”
He hides a smile as he bites his lip, touching your nose with his. “I want you more than anything.”
Joy overflows within you, Jungkook lowering himself to press his lips to yours. This time, he’s slow, intimate, and sensually moves his mouth. His tip nudges your sex when he nears you, moaning into his mouth.
He squeezes your hand as he aligns himself with your entrance. He flashes another look at you, as though asking once again if you’re truly prepared for this. You send him an affirmed, squeezing his hand in your grasp.
Your eyes connect for a brief moment of forever, lost in each other’s irises, before your entire world is tipped off its axle—Jungkook pushes against your fluttering hole. Every fibre of your being vibrates inside you, feeling his bulbous tip sink past your tight walls, gasping when you feel his gigantic size.
“Oh my fucking god—“ you resist him, hand pushing against his muscular chest; he feels so unfamiliarly large.
Jungkook wraps his hand around the one you tuck against his heart, holding you. “I know, Y/N.” He lovingly coos, soothing you. “Just breathe, breathe angel.”
“Go slow,” you croak, squeezing his hand for dear life. “Be gentle.”
“I will, I will for you.” He pecks your lips, wrapping his palm around his shaft again to insert himself a little deeper, only by an inch. You whimper—his size feels mammoth, and he’s barely 3 inches in.
Jungkook deeply groans out, hissing when he feels the tight fit of your pussy. He contains every ounce of his animalistic hunger, breathing shakily to maintain his focus. You force yourself to adjust to him, pants hard and heavy as you focus on that sole goal. Jungkook feels your stiff body, cradling your cheek. “Relax your body, baby. Relax for me.”
You inhale and exhale a deep breath, allowing the stress to melt away from your muscles. Once you loosen up, Jungkook pushes himself in another inch, watching your reaction.
When you don’t seem to be in acute pain, he plunges deeper until you moan out, digging your nails into the back of his hand. The pain ripples throughout your sex nearly crying out until your walls squeeze around him, clearly desiring more, and you feel a sensation you’ve never once felt before.
You feel so gloriously full.
“Holy fuck… Jungkook.”
“Too much?”
“No, it’s good.” You breathe, nodding your spinning head. “It’s so good.”
“If I hurt you…” He trails, swallowing harshly as he holds back from drilling into your cunt. “Fuck… you’re so tight I’m–I’ll go insane.” Jungkook can’t even compose a sentence, jaw slack as he moans.
Your body shudders, feeling him glide inside your pulsing cunt until he reaches the end of you, and your gasp echoes off the walls. Jungkook’s masculine groan is almost a growl.
When he’s completely inside you, Jungkook buries his face into your neck, almost as though he’s recollecting himself. His hot breaths fan across your neck as he hovers above you, cock throbbing within your velvet walls.
“Y/N… fuck…” He pants, barely able to manage himself. “I can barely… I can barely hold myself back. If I’m ever hurting you, tell me.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder before lifting up, revealing his fucked out expression, his sweaty skin and blown out eyes. “After all this time, I might fuck the absolute shit out of you.”
Arousal swirls inside your stomach as you gulp, ready to take on his challenge. Your sex has gradually adjusted to his size, beating around him for more. You send him a weary smile before propping up for a quick kiss, cutely pecking his lips.
“Lay it on me, demon.”
Jungkook’s lips curve with a benign smile, connecting your mouths for a sweet liplock. His hand abandons your cheek to slide into your palm, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes your hands above you, his eyes mesmerizing as they peer poingnantly into yours—this position feels incredibly intimate.
When Jungkook draws out of your sex, the friction inside you unexplicably good. The glide of his cock grants you eons of pleasure, inhaling when you feel empty, only to shakily sigh when he gently thrusts into your cunt.
He stretches you out divinely, whimpering when his tip nearly kisses your cervix. You squeeze his hands, and Jungkook steals a kiss from you, whispering a ‘ready?’ as he prepares himself for the next thrust.
When he slowly pushes his cock inside you again, Jungkook lets out a broken groan, your body buzzing with white hot electricity. He draws out once again to softly sheath himself inside—all that echoes in the room are your faint gasps and sighs.
Once Jungkook tests the waters of your tolerance, he develops a caring, affectionate pace, thrusting inside you so gently, so slowly, you could’ve shed tears. It was evident how much he was containing himself, remaining considerate of your body, and it only makes you plunge further into his loving abyss.
Your back arches off his sheets into his chest, skin-to-skin, nearly nose to nose, maintaining sizzling eye contact as your breaths fan across each other’s swollen lips. When Jungkook decides to move deeper, you wince, mewling in pain—fire instantly burns between your legs.
Jungkook frowns, dipping down for a soft kiss. “Angel…” He coos, slowly gliding himself out of you. “I don’t like when you’re in pain. How about I kiss you every time it hurts, huh?”
His kind voice melts your heart into a puddle of goo, squeezing his hands like he was your lifeline. You nod with a shy smile, and he happily lowers himself to seal your mouths. Just when your lips meet, Jungkook drives himself further inside you, feeling your walls spasm around his cock. He groans hotly into your mouth, and soothes your pain, devouring your cry.
He softly thrusts inside you again, following it with a kiss. Another gentle thrust of his rewards you with another sweet peck. Jungkooks continues like that with his considerate, mellow thrusts, watching the way your body slightly moves up his sheets, adores the way your eyes flutter shut, ensnared by the feeling of your tight, plushy cunt smothering his dick.
“Fuck…” he strangles out, dipping his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “Your pussy, baby… it’s 1000x better than what I thought it would feel like.”
His words surprise you, sighing out when he slightly angles upwards, storking your g-spot. “What did you think I’d feel like?”
“Tight, for sure.” He subdues a moan when your legs wrap around his waist tighter, his hips just kissing your pelvis with each slow, languid fuck. “But you’re so warm, so soft inside… and fuck, are you gonna squeeze the cum out of me.”
A chuckle escapes you, instantly followed by a soft gasp—your cunt inadvertently clenches whenever you laugh. “Oh my god, Jungkook, don’t say anything funny.”
He giggles. “Why not?”
“Because it makes me squeeze you–ah!” A sheepish giggle spills out of you again, causing you to feel his thick veins, his throbbing flesh, his hardness that’s spelling your doom.
The image of your adorable smile makes Jungkook’s face beam, languidly pulling out of your sex to insert himself once again. Your body feels looser, more relaxed as he slightly increases his speed, fucking into you more rhythmically.
He steals a kiss from you when he plunges deep, and does it again, kissing you, and again, and again until you’re left a giggling mess, poutily whining at him.
“Jungkook~”
“God, you’re such a cutie.”
He collides his lip with yours and Jungkook drives himself entirely into you, gasping into his mouth. Jungkook squeezes your hands and rolls his hips precisely, thrusting into your sex considerately enough he feels glorious inside you. Hot and throbbing, thick and massive, Jungkook’s dick serves you immense pleasure, so much so that you gasp as you throw your head back, reaching cloud nine.
It’s as though your body becomes weightless when Jungkook lips find your neck, licking across your skin down to your chest. You mewl when he flicks his tongue across a nipple, lighting you on fire. Your pussy clenches around him, holding his flesh hostage as he groans out against your skin.
He worships your body, kissing, licking, sucking where he desires—all while his hips craft heaven between your bodies. He props off to watch himself fuck you, mesmerized by his massive flesh being swallowed by your fluttering cunt.
He’s gorgeous above you, his eyes glossing over with carnal lust as he accelerates his thrusts, entirely taken by the sight of your bodies connecting. You earn the chance to view his sweaty skin, the lip ring he tongues, the tattoos that sprawl up his shoulder. His impressive stomach muscles that contract with each thrust inside you, his gorgeous neck you crave to emblazon your love all over.
Suddenly, something lustful overwhelms you, locking your legs around Jungkook’s torso. You moan as your body rubs against his, though Jungkook’s a different story—he lets out a groan so broken, you couldn’t even tell at first it was laced with a curse.
“Fuck… fuck!” Jungkook breathes out, his hips suddenly ploughing into yours—you erotically sigh out at the enormous feeling. “This position is lethal, baby… I’ll destroy you.”
You sigh out with satisfaction as halts Jungkook inside you, drowning his cock in your ocean of a pussy—nothing has ever felt more enrapturing.
You tighten your grip around his torso, lips brushing his when you whisper. “Then destroy me, Jungkook.”
The groan from the back of Jungkook’s throat is life-changing, causing him to automatically increase his velocity. Your pain melts into utter pleasure as he begins sheathing himself inside you, hard. Inside. This position allows him access to your g-spot, and for your battered clit to rub against his taut abdomen—it’s sincerely heaven.
Now you feel heat collecting at the bottom of your stomach, sighing out pronographically as your orgasm pends inside you. Rutting your body against his strong, sweaty one feels sensational, completely taken by him releasing your hands to wrap around your figure, pressing you into his frame.
You swing your arms around his neck, impossibly close together as Jungkook continues propelling himself into you, your mouths effortlessly finding each other for heated, carnal kisses.
You moan into each other’s mouths, delirious as your two bodies rut and rub together. He fills you to the very brim, stretching out your hole but it feels just right, feels as though the devil previously being an angel is completely right.
He’s crafting heaven inside you.
“Jungkook, fuck, you feel so good.” You manage to whimper, weaving your fingers through his thick, raven-black hair.
“You feel fucking amazing.” He grunts back, driving his hips into yours, each of his monster thrusts spelling the end of you. Your walls incessantly contract around him, fitting around his perfect cock like a glove, every inch of him so vivid. “My angel… my baby angel.”
You gush, crashing your lips together for needy kisses. Everything feels so hot, intense, his cock sliding in and out of you is an otherworldly experience; you’ve never felt this amazing simply being penetrated.
Your boobs squish against his chest, Jungkook’s grunts sinfully arousing as he thrusts into you, and thrusts, and thrusts and thrusts with all his might. He shoves himself so deep inside you that your walls trap him, your breaths clip, and your abdomen is bubbling with something uncontainable.
“Jungkook, I’m gonna–ngh!”
“Yeah, you’re gonna come, angel?” Jungkook breathes, increasing his velocity, angling himself so that his abdomen rubs against your clit, his strokes hard and fast. “Come again, baby. Love seeing you come.”
When your moand become high-pitched, and Jungkook squishes your clit against his hard muscles, something entirely unravels inside you. You release so hard your vision nearly blacks out, winded by the time you can even recollect yourself. Jungkook comes to an abrupt stop inside you, practically heaving as he lets your body convulse around him, ensnared by the mind-blowing sensation. He watches you in the throes of your pleasure, supporting himself on his forearms. He lowers himself to kiss you, lovingly and with affection; he supplies you with repeated pecks until he needs air.
His head dips as he controls his arousal, his eyes fluttering shut,. He reopens them, delicately brushing your hair from your face, his eyes sweet with honey—he glows mesmerizingly in the moonlight.
You gaze at him with stars in your eyes, and Jungkook’s lips crack a faint smile. He lays a soft kiss to your lips, lost in the hue of your irises. “Did that feel good?”
Nibbling your bottom lip, you nod, attempting to hide your timid smile. “Did you?”
Jungkook notices your sheepish grin anyway, endeared by you. “I felt incredible. I can’t believe I found you; my one and only love.”
Something stirs inside your heart, embracing him for a long, deep kiss. One of your legs hugs his torso, Jungkook cradling you in his arms as he deepens your kiss, ruffling his sheets. When you instinctively lift your hips, you contact his large, erect member. You lightly moan, breaking apart your kiss.
“Jungkook, you didn’t come.” You sadly note, hand pressed to his chest. “I want you to come.”
“It’s okay, angel.” Jungkook traces your bottom lip with his pointer finger, booping it with an adorable smile. “You seem tired.”
“No.” You instantly deny him, tenacity stirring inside you. Again, something beckons you to challenge him, tired of him never serving himself, and only you. You didn’t care what others thought of Jungkook—he’s the most selfless person you know; or maybe he’s only selfless with you.
That made you feel precious, special.
Gently, you elevate yourself to kiss him, lips smacking against each other. He feeds into your kiss, lightly moaning with satisfaction when you rise from off his sheets into a seated position. Your hands cup his neck as he encases your waist, lips nasty on one another’s.
When you pull away, your eyes gleam with undeterred lust, thought not simply the carnal, hungry kind, rather raw and pure. You glide your hands down Jungkook’s arms, surpassing his biceps to entwine your fingers. You lightly tug him towards you, beckoning him until he’s seated on the mattress.
Your irises swirl with playfulness, releasing his hands to crawl over his body. Jungkook, with widened eyes, leans back in response, far enough until his head lays against a pillow, your body now on top of his. You run a hand through your hair to cast it away, your eyes plotting something naughty, feline-like. A kittenish grin breaks out across your lips—the feminine power that surges through you on top of him is addicting.
Jungkok’s fascinated by your body, his hands cradling your sides to run up and down, roaming the inches of your skin, indulging in you and your softness. His fingers suddenly close around your breasts, slowly kneading them, fondling them to his desire. You hiss, your hand digging into his shoulder; he feels too fucking good.
“What are you doing, angel?” Jungkook whispers, leaning up to kiss you, slow and sloppy.
You smile into it, biting Jungkook’s bottom lip and tugging it; you watch it bounce back with pleasure, your breaths fanning across his swollen petals.
“I’m riding you straight to hell, satan.”
Jungkook’s expression gapes immediately, but you don’t allow him time as you lower your cunt over Jungkook’s hard, straining cock. He lets out a long, deep groan, feeling you rub your damp pussy folds across his shaft. You feel him instinctively twitch upwards, thrusting into your sex—you shake your head.
“No way, demon. I control things now.” You press your pointer finger to his lips, silencing him. The smug grin that graces Jungkook is to die for; you can see the pride he feels swirling in his eyes.
“Control me then, my queen.”
You bite your smile away, leaning down to capture his mouth for a heated kiss. You experimentally glide yourself over his cock again, sighing pleasurably when your arousal reignites. Jungkook grips your midriff as he subdues himself; the state of his hard cock tells you he’s ready to explode.
Granting him mercy, you reach in between your legs and curl your palm around his flesh, pumping him a few times. Jungkook hisses as he watches, his eyes beaming a deep red. You align him with your sex, and without warning, spear yourself on his meat, sinking his tip inside you.
The harmonized groans you both let out are pornographic, surely disturbing your neighbours. Your walls swallow Jungkook’s massive cock eagerly, yearning to feel the same addicting friction inside you again, grip him so hard his cum floods you enough to fill your stomach.
Jungkook shudders underneath you when his tip caresses the end of you, and you wince with pain, though your cunt flutters ever so slightly more open, challenging yourself. Once you’re entirely pierced over his dick, you falter forward with a gasp; he feels incredibly large this way. Jungkook immediately holds your wrists, cooing at you despite his laboured breaths.
“Don’t hurt yourself, Y/N.” His voice sounds so mellow and husky, saturating your ear drums. “Take your time.”
He pacifyingly rubs your arm, his chest filling with air and falling just as fast; he’s clearly not going to last long, anyway, so you throw away all caution and let passion drive you. The sensation of him is exhilarating, and you’ll chase the feeling of him for the rest of your life.
Rewarding him a kiss for his concern, you lean your body over him, hands pressing into the pillow underneath his head as you draw him out of your sex, only to smash him back in. A broken sigh escapes you against Jungkook’s lips, but he’s further gone underneath you.
“Fuck, fuck.” Jungkook curses, sliding his hands over your hips. “You’re so sexy, holy fucking hell.”
Driven by the feeling of him filling you up, you repeat the action, slowly drawing him out before fucking yourself back on him. The feeling of him dragging in and out of your sex replicates ecstacy, high off the friction he crafts inside you, and you completely unhinge.
You being piercing yourself on Jungkook’s cock, adoring the way he fills up your sex. Jungkook grips your hips hard enough he could be bruising you, but you don’t care; he feels so glorious, you need a reminder of this night.
Your breasts jostle back and forth as Jungkook holds your hips and watches you fuck yourself on him, your moans resounding in the room. Slapping skin is laced within the erotic noises, the squelches of your wetness as you leak all over him, lubricating his massive cock for yourself. Your walls grip him like a vice, squeezing him so hard you know it’ll spell his doom.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jungkook lets out a string of curses, biting his lower lip. “Oh shit, you’re gonna kill me… you’re gonna fucking kill me, baby. You feel amazing.”
You capture his mouth in that instant, swallowing his moans and groans as you tirelessly work yourself over him, feel his cock enter and leave you, hit your stomach and fit inside you flawlessly. You shudder when you pierce himself on him so deep, he’s certainly nudging your cervix.
You disconnect your mouths to hide your face in Jungkook’s shoulders, the intimacy drifting your mind elsewhere, the pain overwhelming you with so much more; pain that isn’t just what you feel there.
Suddenly, all your emotions wash over you, reminded that this may never happen with Jungkook again. He’s leaving you; one way or another, and that there is no fate where you two can stay like this, where he can be yours, where your love prevails all and conquers all injustice.
That sad reality slaps you in the face, tears manifesting in your eyes. Your body glides up and down his member on instinct, but your mind and heart are attacked by misery, choking up.
Once you lose all control and you audibly sob, Jungkook’s eyes become soft with worry, his hand cradling your head of hair. “Oh my god, angel, am I hurting you? Does it hurt?”
“No…” you sniffle, avoiding his eyes because yours are a mess, cries clogging your throat. “Jungkook… I…” You can’t hide it within yourself anymore, you can’t deny a truth that’s entirely provable; you need to say this before this all crashes down on you, before you lose the chance. “I love you… I love you.”
Something pains Jungkook’s eyes terribly, clutching your face in his palms as he sweeps over your every feature. “Yeah, baby? You love me?”
“I do… I do.” You choke, body slowly spearing himself inside you, driven by the emotion congesting your chest. “But you’re leaving… you’re leaving me. Why do you have to leave?”
His eyes gloss over with moisture, attempting to swallow it away. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry I kept it from you, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He apologizes, tucking some strands behind your ear. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you, I couldn’t bear the thought of your face when I told you I’d disappear.”
Your forehead naturally falls against Jungkook’s, bodies pressed together and connected in every sense of the words. “Now look at you, baby, this is why. You’re tearing my heart apart.”
“You’re tearing mine apart.” You cry, tears pooling your lash line. “How could people do this to us? I don’t get it…”
“I know, angel. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Jungkook cradles your body over his, pressing sweet pecks to your lips. “It shouldn’t have been like this for us.”
“Please don’t leave.” You beg him, tears streaming down your face, pain infecting every vein within your body; it hurts to even breathe. “Don’t go, Jungkook, don’t go.”
Your feeble voice shatters Jungkook’s heart, but it’s the moisture escaping your eyes that punctures his soul. Your tears ceaselessly fall upon Jungkook’s cheeks, and he can’t stand it anymore, hugging your shaking figure into him, stroking your hair. “I love you, Y/N. Always remember that.”
Something cracks inside you, so agonzing you’re unable to compose yourself, drowning in sorrow. “Don’t… don’t do this to me, Jungkook.”
“No matter what happens to me, remember that.” He coos, his own voice shaking. “Remember that from the moment I met you, I felt something undeniable. Every day I’ve spent with you, I never hated you, angel. I loved you. I loved you this whole time, and I always fucking will.”
Your body terribly shakes, head aching with how much pain invades you. Jungkook squeezes you tighter when you brokenly sob, soothing your back. “Y/N, look at me, yeah?”
Obliging, you lift up, messy eyes finding his vulnerable, though beautiful ones. His irises suddenly burn a certain red, his palm cupping your cheek. You realize he’s using his powers on you, and the denial is imminent, refusing him. “No, don’t use your powers on me, don’t use them, you’ll lose more time!”
“Shh, shh.” He hushes you, running his thumb across your cheek, and suddenly, his warmth spreads across your skin. Your body instantly relaxes, the physical aching subsidies, and you feel much more calm, collected. Jungkook’s lips curve into a smile upon seeing you relax, his hands cupping your hips again. “Let’s think about us right now, baby. Think about you and me, just you and me.”
His soothing voice provides you with peace, heeding his words. You focus on him in this moment, him in his sinful yet mesmerizing beauty, him with his moonlit skin, his sparkling, doe eyes, him and his unjust tragedy that he’s enduring for you, enduring because he loves you.
Emotions overcome your movements, rocking your hips over him with speed, driven by the purity of what you feel in your heart. His cock is throbbing inside you, hot and hard, his hands guiding your hips over his flesh. You meet his glossy eyes, and everything connects within that single moment.
Jungkook is the love of your life; you can feel whatever primordial destiny as always bound your two tainted souls together. Something unlocks inside you, adopting a newfound love—familiarity with him. It feels infinite, it feels universal, it feels completely, and utterly right.
You bounce faster in respons, seeing him silently beg for his release, and you provide him exactly that, rutting over him harder, squeezing him so tightly inside he’ll never forget this enrapturing moment.
“Yeah, just like that, Y/N.” Jungkook strangles out, his own hips propelling into yours from underneath, perfectly synchronizing your bodies. Skin smacks against skin, your hips melding together with each thrust, each fuck until Jungkook’s stomach is tightening, his hands grip you captive, and his breaths clip.
“Shit, baby, fuck fuck fuck.” He curses, losing his mind. “Where should I come? Fuck!”
“Inside me, Jungkook, inside.” You breathlessly reply.
“Are you—”
“Birth control, fucking come inside me!”
Without further instruction, Jungkook spears himself so far within your cunt, you cry out with feral pleasure. Jungkook releases his hot seed inside you with a loud, deep grunt, spilling so abundantly you can feel the delicious heft of his load. The sensation leaves your clit pulsing, on the verge of another orgasm but you’re far too tired, completely spent.
Though surprisingly, Jungkook’s fingers press into your buzzing pearl, confused eyes finding his fucked out ones.
He pants underneath you, balmy skin glistening in the moonlight, his hair sexily tousled, but he works your clit masterfully. “Jungkook–”
“Last one for tonight, angel.” He breathes, rubbing his fingers faster. “One more orgasm.”
You can’t even argue when he handles you so well, circulating and vibrating his fingers so good your unexpected orgasm explodes inside you. Jungkook groans feeling you come around him, cock smothered by your fluttering walls, your bodies swathed by the exhaustion of tonight’s affairs.
You collapse forward, legs and groins aching so badly they’re shaking. Jungkook embraces you warmly, hugging your panting body to his own. You can feel how fast his heart beats, thinking he can probably feel yours, too.
Jungkook turns you both over so that you lay on your sides, your face buried in his chest, arms weaving around his torso and you both breathlessly collect oxygen. He holds you dearly, fingers lost in your strands, lips pressed to the crown of your head.
“I don’t want to pull out… not yet.” He tells you, quiet and mellow.
“Don’t.” You breathily whisper. “Let’s stay like this.”
And you do; you both lay together for what feels like hours, Jungkook’s fingers softly massaging your scalp, playing with your hair, while you cherish his comforting, loving warmth, wrapped up in his arms. His flesh only slightly softened inside you, feeling some of his cum drip out of you, but you don’t mind; it’s a reminder you’re both still connected.
“I love you.” You say, drawing a useless pattern on his chest, sleep threatening to close your eyes.
Jungkook squeezes you, swallowing back the emotion that overcomes him. You get it, you understand it better than anyone. Your emotions are on a highline, too, constantly thinking about the negatives surrounding each other, the terrifying future that awaits, all the uncertainties. But you wanted to know your one sincere, unbreakable truth; he wants you to know it, too.
“I love you.” He can barely get out, a surge of sorrow washing over him as he engulfs you in his arms, burying his face into your hair. “I love you a lot, Y/N, more than you know. Remember that, always remember that. When you feel unloved, or worthless, or you hate yourself, remember that I love you. I fucking love you.”
His shaking voice breaks your heart, clutching a palm over your mouth as tears prick your glassy eyes.
Basking in each other’s sheltering arms, you both neglect the impending doom of your relationship. You heed Jungkook’s earlier words, you focus on him, and only him. You focus on the sound of his heart, the patterns of his breath, the scent of his cologne, until they become embedded in your memory, until all that lies within you is Jungkook, every piercing detail of him, to prepare yourself for your unfortunate, imminent reality.
He’s going to soon become a memory.
Squeezing him just as much as you squeeze your tears back, you never let go, and neither does Jungkook. You both fall asleep that night in each other’s embrace, indulging in your temporary, momentary piece of paradise, feeling nothing but the impassioned beating of each other’s hearts.
#namkook moonrise masquerade#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook fanfic#thebtswritersclub#kwritersworldnet#bangtansorciere#ksmutclub#btswritingcafe#bangtanarmynet#purplearmynet#btscreatorscorner#btsdreamcourt#clubzerooclock#bts smut#bts fluff#bts angst#jungkook x reader#bts x reader#bts jungkook#jungkook#fic: hotter than hell#jungkook imagine
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blueberry haze | jjk
⟶title: blueberry haze
⟶ au: strangers to lovers
⟶ trope: one night stand
⟶ pairing: drummer!jungkook x f. reader
⟶ rating: 18+
⟶ genre: smut
⟶wc: 6.6k
⟶warnings: little bit of dom!jk, mentions of drug use (marijuana), smut in the forms of: some breath play, choking, oral ( m & f receiving), lots of praise, some bondage type things, touch denial, unprotected sex (don’t do this, be smart)
⟶ summary: he had been eye fucking you from the stage all night. but you never expected anything to come of it. but when you run into the beautiful blue haired drummer after the show, you decide to let him show you some of his other talents.
⟶ authors note: this was supposed to be a quick little thing but you see where that’s ended up lol. This is some very self indulgent smut yall, not much plot for real. But it’s blueberry koo, and he’s my fav. Hope you enjoy, and as always send the feedback my way!
What was his deal?
The ridiculously good looking, blue haired drummer on stage was looking right at you. And he had been most of the night. You couldn’t help but stare back at him, it was impossible not to.
“He’s eye fucking you.” Your friend said into your ear as the band came back on stage for their finale.
“Is not.” But you knew he was. He was looking at you again already as he sat down on the stool behind his drum kit.
Big, veiny biceps gripped the drumsticks in his hands, slinging them around between his fingers effortlessly. You watched as he pushed the blue hair off of his forehead once more before the song started and he became immersed in the music. He was a sight to see.
“Whatever you say.” Your friend teased and you elbowed her side in hopes of making her shut up while you enjoyed the last song of the night.
Any small ounce of hope you had that the sexy drummer was going to pull you backstage after the show was quickly doused when the lights came on and the venue staff was ushering everyone outside. You wanted to punch yourself for even thinking it was a possibility. He was somewhat famous. He could have whoever he wanted, why on earth would he want you?
“I’m far too tired for any parties.” You tell your friend who has been tirelessly trying to convince you to go to the bars downtown. “You should call Mina or Cher, I’m sure they’re already there.” She pouts but finally agrees to let you head home to sulk.
You pull your jacket a little tighter around your body as you walk past some shops and restaurants. They’re all mostly closed at this point in the night, but some of the displays in the windows are comforting to see.
Dexters Diner comes into view just up ahead, the yellow lights on top flicker in and out as you get closer to the small building. You could suddenly smell coffee drifting into your nostrils, and without a second thought, your hand is on the door handle of the diner, pulling it open.
There’s hardly anyone inside. A few tables of rowdy drunks from the bars and a few night shift workers having their first meal of the day. You smile at the older woman behind the front counter who’s wearing a pikachu tshirt and her hair in braids.
“What’ll it be, sweetheart?” She says as you sit down on one of the stools.
“Coffee. And maybe one of those cinnamon rolls from the case, please?” You take off your coat when she nods and heads off to gather your order.
This is just what you needed to wind down. And in most cases coffee would do the opposite, but you know the warmth of it will make you sleepy in no time.
You smile again when she sets down the chipped coffee cup and oversized cinnamon roll in front of you. The two things together smell like absolute heaven. You breathe it all in once more before picking up the cinnamon roll and bringing it to your mouth for the biggest bite you can manage.
“What are the odds?” A voice says behind you, making you freeze mid-bite. You turn around, cinnamon roll still in your mouth to face the voice.
Oh no. Please no.
Blue haired drummer boy is standing right in front of you in all his beautiful glory.
“H-hi.” You mumble, realizing you have the huge cinnamon roll in your mouth, your eyes shoot open wide and you quickly scramble to turn back and sit the pastry on its plate and wipe your mouth.
“You’re adorable.” He says, his hand gently touching your shoulder and turning you back around to face him. “Didn’t think I was going to see you again.”
“Here I am.” You say stupidly, internally facepalming.
“Here you are.” He smiles and tilts his head curiously. “I’m Jungkook. What’s your name, cinnamon roll?”
“It’s _____. Nice to meet you, Jungkook.” You can’t believe this is actually happening.
“How’s the coffee?” He asks, sitting down on the stool next to you.
“Good I think. I haven’t actually drank it yet.” You turn back to face the counter, taking the coffee cup in your hands.
“Don’t let me stop you.” Jungkook slides his leather jacket off his shoulders, revealing a clean white shirt underneath, the sleeve of tattoos looking so stark against the white of the shirt.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you started talking to rockstar Jungkook, but it wasn’t this. The conversation was flowing so nicely. He was surprisingly funny and full of all kinds of useless facts. The kind that were so ridiculous that they were interesting. He seemed sweet surprisingly…sweet.
“Did you know it takes 700 grapes to make just one bottle of wine?” Jungkook says, popping a grape into his mouth from the fruit bowl he had ordered.
“You don’t say?” You start to laugh, but then feel one of Jungkook's feet rub against yours. Was he playing footsie with you?
You take the hint, crossing your legs and letting your foot glide up the side of his calf. You can tell he’s pretending not to notice, but the tattooed hand that was resting on the countertop is now ghosting over your own calf.
“Did you know a group of bunnies is called a fluffle?” Jungkook lets just his finger tips softly run over your knee.
“That doesn’t seem true.” It barely comes out a whisper. Your thighs squeeze together as he continues his touches.
“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks after he notices the change in your voice. You look at him blankly for a moment before responding.
“Y-yeah. I mean sure, what do you have in mind?” You sit down your coffee cup with a shaky hand. Jungkook stands up from his seat, then leans down to cage you against the counter, his mouth coming to your ear.
“Each and every thought I’ve had about you since the moment I saw you in the crowd tonight, have been completely improper. And I would very much like to take you to my hotel room so I can show you what I’ve been thinking.” His words melt into your skin and find their way directly between your legs where they start a burning need.
“Okay.” Is all you can manage to say, eyes fluttering closed when you feel his tongue brush the shell of your ear.
“Good girl.” Jungkook whispers in your ear, thousands of goosebumps blanketing your skin in an instant. “Let me grab my stuff and we can head out.”
The jeans he’s wearing must have been painted on and he could not possibly be wearing any underwear with them, which was breath stealing all on its own.
“Jesus Christ.” You don’t mean to say it out loud, but of course he heard you.
“Like what you see?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and you can’t help the ridiculous giggle that escapes you.
“I’ve had worse views.” You try to play it cool, taking another drink of the coffee that was lukewarm at this point. Jungkook laughs, then pulls his sweaty blue hair up into a messy bun on the back of his head. It should not be legal to be this hot.
“Come on then pretty girl, I’ve got other views to show you.” He quickly puts on his jacket and offers you his hand. You let him help you up and into your jacket as well.
There’s a sleek black car waiting around the backside of the diner and the two of you slide into the back seat. You aren’t sure what to do, so you reach for your seatbelt.
“What are you doing?” Jungkook reaches across you to stop your hand, suddenly in your space.
“Buckling my seatbelt? You know…safety.” You let him take your hand off of the seatbelt while he laughs.
“You’re adorable.” His eyes hold yours while his hand slips onto your thigh, gripping it tightly so that he can then slide you across the leather seat and closer to him. “But I have other ideas for the ride home.” You hope he doesn’t see how harshly you have to swallow, your throat feeling so tight.
“What ideas?” You let one of your hands rest on his thigh, touching the frayed strings of the tears in his jeans.
“First things first.” Jungkook places his pointer finger beneath your chin and lifts your face up to look at him. “Can I kiss you?”
Your cheeks heat up immediately. He’s so unexpected. He radiates that cocky rockstar vibe, but he’s also sweet enough to ask permission before he kisses you. The whiplash might be your undoing.
“Yes.” You instinctively lean forward and he meets you halfway with that angelic smile of his on his face.
His lips are too soft. Too perfect. But they mold to yours and steal the breath from your lungs. His presence engulfs you and takes over all of your senses. Right now, there’s nothing else but Jungkook.
Coffee flavored tongue swipes against your lips and you want to taste it again so badly, dipping your tongue into his mouth until he hums in satisfaction. His tattooed hand slides up your arm and onto your shoulder until it reaches your neck, his thumb sliding up and down the column of your throat.
“Tell me something, pretty girl.” His mouth stays close to yours, lips still brushing as he speaks. “How do you feel about my hand around your throat?” His words take you aback for a moment until you realize what it is he wants to do.
“I’m okay with it.” You wrap a hand around his wrist and move his fingers into place at your throat.
“You’re not so innocent, are you baby?” Jungkook smiles wickedly and swallows your reply with his mouth. Kissing you roughly, noses and lips smashing against the others, tongues licking sloppily.
Jungkook applies a bit of pressure with his hand on your throat, testing to see how much you like. It doesn’t hurt, it feels amazing. You take his wrist again pushing harder and with more pressure, his fingers tightening and gripping the skin.
“More.” You whine into his kisses until he pulls back to look into your eyes.
“You’re getting me so hard right now.” You chance a look down at his denim covered crotch, eyeing the plentiful bulge forming there.
Of course his dick was huge, there couldn’t be any flaws with this man.
Jungkook begins tightening his hand again but doesn’t kiss you again. He wants to watch your face while he controls whether you take a breath or not. You swallow, barely able to get the saliva down your throat before your eyes start to roll to the back of your head. Jungkook moans and removes his hand, his mouth immediately devouring yours as you take in a long breath.
“You’re going to be so much fun.” Jungkook kisses down your neck, paying attention to the spots where his fingers just were. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” You answered too quickly, but he seems to find it amusing, smiling and pressing a kiss to your lips once more.
Your pussy is absolutely dripping. You can feel the stickiness between your legs and it’s almost embarrassing how wet you are after just a little breath play. What was going to happen once he was inside you? You shiver at the thought.
The car comes to a stop around the back of one of the nicest hotels in town. You’ve never stayed here, but you know this is where important people stay all the time. You start to feel the nerves creep back in at how famous Jungkook might actually be.
Jungkook opens the car door and starts to get out but notices that you haven’t moved to do the same.
“You know, I can have the driver take you home. We can stop right now.” He slides back into the car and brings your face around to look at him. “Because if you come upstairs I’m going to ruin you. I won’t stop until I’m convinced you’ve been so thoroughly fucked that you think of me every time you even think about being with another man.”
You take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut when he presses a feather light kiss to your jaw.
“I don’t want to stop.” You’re barely able to muster out the words.
“Good girl.” He laces his tattooed fingers through yours and helps you out of the car. You expect him to let go of your hand as you walk inside, but he doesn’t. He holds your hand until you reach the elevator.
Once inside and the doors have sealed shut, Jungkook pushes you against the mirrored wall. You gasp out loud when his hips roll against yours, the hard outline of his cock more prominent than before.
“So fucking hard.” Another harsh roll of his hips, almost lifting your feet off the ground. Your breathing is rapid and uneven, the anticipation absolutely killing you. “Tell me how wet you are, baby. Please.” The words pour into your ear, all warm and inviting.
“Soaked.” You manage to croak out. Jungkook groans and slowly rolls his hips so that his cock rubs against your clit that was begging to be touched.
Just as you’re about to beg him to touch you, the elevator dings and the doors slide open to the floor jungkook had selected. You suddenly realize that anyone could see the two of you and you start to move out of his hold. But he has other ideas.
Jungkook grabs beneath your thighs and hoists them around his waist, making you squeal in the process. He walks out of the elevator with you in his arms towards his hotel room at the end of the hall.
“Jungkook…put me down.” Your eyes shoot open wide when you notice an older couple walking towards you. “Jungkook!” You gently push against his chest but he doesn’t let go.
“You think they care if I’m holding you? They were probably crazy back in their day.” Jungkook squeezes the globes of your ass in each hand as you pass the older couple, they don’t seem to care but you still feel blush rush to your cheeks. “Should we ask them if they want to watch?” He wiggles his eye brows and you smack his chest.
“No way! Are you crazy?” You half laugh.
“Not into sharing? That’s cool pretty girl, you don’t have to share me with anyone.” Jungkook props you up against the hotel room door while he digs for the key card in his pocket.
“You can put me down.” You say again.
“Hmm. No.” He finds the card and opens the door, lifting you higher in his arms before he carries you into the room. You roll your eyes, but let him continue to do it.
You look around at the room when he finally sets you down in front of the unmade bed. There were two open suitcases in front of the window, clothes scattered about. Some empty beer bottles and ash trays sat untouched on the night stand on one side of the bed. Typical hotel room of a traveling rockstar.
What wasn’t so typical though, were the comic books laying around in the rumpled blankets on the bed. You tilt your head with curiosity and pick one up, gently flipping through some of the pages.
“You like to read comics?” You ask Jungkook, who has started trying to shove things into his suitcases.
“From time to time. Something to keep my mind busy on tour.” He shrugs a little as he roughly moves the suitcases around. You smile to yourself and sit the comic back down before turning to sit down on the edge of the bed.
“You don’t need to do that.” Referring to him trying to clean up the mess in the room. Jungkook seems to listen, stretching his arms above his head before coming to stand in front of you where you sit on the bed.
“I need a shower. How about you, pretty girl?” His tattooed hand gently wraps around the back of your neck as he bends at the waist to be face to face with you.
“You want me to shower with you?” You realize how stupid it was to ask, but it was too late to take it back now. Jungkook laughs quietly.
“Amongst other things.” He smiles, lips the perfect color of pink, silver hoop pierced through the corner. “For example…” His hand slides up and around to your face, cupping your cheek and ghosting his thumb over your jaw. “I’d like to see your lips wrapped around my cock…fuck, that would be a sight to see.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and groans under his breath.
Jungkook stands up straight, but keeps his hand cupping your jaw, watching you as you think about what to do next. You keep your eyes on his for a moment, but then almost on their own, your hands find his denim clad thighs. You rub up the front of them a few times, but not touching his crotch that was getting harder by the moment.
“Be good, baby. Don’t tease me.” Jungkook sighs, thumbing at your bottom lip.
You take the opportunity to wrap your lips around his thumb instead, keeping your hands on his thighs. You suck his digit softly at first, tongue licking the length of it. You’re practically drooling around his thumb in anticipation of having his much bigger cock in your mouth.
Your hands move up his thighs to the button and zipper of his jeans, undoing them both. When you bring your eyes down to his waist, you can see that your earlier assumption of Jungkook not wearing any underwear was indeed correct. Fuck, he was too hot.
Just as you’re about to pull his jeans off of his hips, he stops you, and instead leans back over to kiss you roughly.
“What’s wrong?” You ask when your lips part from his with a wet smacking noise.
“Shower first. I’ve been sweaty, baby.” He kisses you again, almost making you fall back against the mattress with its force. He makes you absolutely dizzy with lust. “Come with me?”
“You want to shower before sex?” You ask.
“We can take one afterwards too, if you want.” He smiles and helps you up off of the bed.
You follow Jungkook to the bathroom, stupidly nervous. He was going to see you naked one way or another, why did this feel so strangely intimate? Too intimate for a one night stand.
There’s an ashtray with some half smoked joints sitting on the bathroom counter, along with some hair products and skin care type things. You’re almost too distracted to notice Jungkook pulling his shirt over his head.
“Do you smoke?” He asks.
“I have…it’s been awhile.” You watch as Jungkook picks up one of the joints and puts it between his lips.
“Nothing better than a shower joint. Except maybe a shower beer.” He laughs and digs for a lighter in his pocket. Once he’s retrieved it, he lights the joint and takes a very long drag.
“Can you smoke in here?” You ask, knowing you must sound so cringey for asking. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and holds the joint up to your lips.
“It’s blueberry haze. One of the best strands I’ve had.” Jungkook lets you take the joint, then casually shoves his jeans down to his ankles, stepping out of the denim and kicking them to the corner.
“Blueberry haze, you say?” Your words are distracted by his naked form. Broad chest and big arms. Tiny waist and…really big dick confirmed.
“Give it a try, pretty girl.” Jungkook watches as your eyes make their way back to his face, blinking so adorably.
You refocus your thoughts long enough to bring the joint to your lips and take a drag. The smoke fills your lungs and makes you cough, immediately handing it back to Jungkook, who rubs your back soothingly while you catch your breath.
“That’s…kind of strong.” You struggle to get the words out.
“You’re not naked enough.” Jungkook touches the hem of your shirt at your hip.
“Being naked helps with smoking weed?” You raise a questioning eyebrow, already beginning to feel it’s effects.
“I like to think so.” Jungkook slowly drags your shirt up and over your head, being delightfully met with the sight of your bare chest. “I’d love to have my mouth all over these.” Your shirt is long forgotten and so is your shyness.
“Why don’t you?” You take a step up closer to him, barely hearing the groaning noise he makes.
“Get these off.” He sticks his pointer finger just inside the waistband of your jeans, pulling at the material until it softly snaps back against your skin. You obey far too willingly, the blueberry haze in your mind making you feel extremely pliant.
You remove your jeans and underwear in a quick motion, kicking away the clothing and immediately reaching for Jungkooks skin, touching his shoulders and meeting his eyes with yours.
“You kind of look like a blueberry…a beautiful blueberry.” You giggle, fingers toying with the strands of his blue hair. Jungkook giggles too, big arms wrapping around your waist.
“You’re so fucking cute.” He kisses you a few times, then moves your body back towards the shower door. “Let’s get you wet.” He whispers into your mouth. You want to tell him that you’re already dripping wet between your thighs, but instead you step into the steamy shower with him right behind you, closing the smoky glass door.
The hot water immediately hits your skin and makes your muscles relax. You almost forget for a moment that a beautiful man is also in here with you, until his hands are on your hips and turning you around to face him.
“Don’t you need to get cleaned up?” You ask, Jungkook's hands sliding up your wet skin to cup your breasts in his hands. You whimper, not realizing how desperate you were to be touched.
“Mmm, I do.” His thumbs flick over your nipples, and then his touch is gone, making your eyes shoot open.
Jungkook is taking another drag from the joint, breathing it in deeply and holding it in his lungs. He grabs the back of your head, fingers gripping your wet hair and pressing his mouth onto yours. You feel the smoke slowly creep from his mouth into yours. You breathe it in like he wants you to, then let it out through your nose so that you can keep kissing him.
“I think…I think you should get cleaned up…quickly.” You say between kisses and strokes of his tongue.
“Tell me what you need, baby.” Jungkooks mouth travels from your lips to your jaw, nipping with his teeth as he goes.
“Can I show you?” The high you’re on is making you feel so bold.
“Please.” He pecks your lips and pulls away from you, he knows what you want.
You put a hand to his chest between his very defined pecks, sliding it between the muscles and down over the hard planes of his stomach until you reach his cock, hot and hard in your hand. You watch his face for any dislike, but he only put his hand over yours and makes you tighten your grip.
You don’t want to waste time, you want to hear him fall apart with his cock down your throat. You lean forward and lick one of his nipples, sucking it gently. Jungkook lets his head fall back against the shower wall, pulling his pierced lip between his teeth.
You lick up some water drops on your way down his body. His perfectly sculpted body that you most certainly take note of, gently getting to your knees in front of him, looking up to meet his eyes one more time before opening your mouth to take his cock inside.
Jungkook hisses through his teeth when you start to suck. Gently at first, short, shallow motions as you bob your head. You look up to see the muscles of his stomach tighten over and over the deeper you take him. It’s when you add your tongue that he really starts to make noise above you.
“That’s so good, baby. Keep going, just like that.” Jungkook touches your jaw and your cheek his fingers, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb.
You let him start to move his hips and thrust into your mouth and throat. You gag a couple of times, but you don’t want him to stop. The pretty moans and whimpers he’s making are too perfect to stop, so you dig your nails into the backs of his thighs and hold on for dear life when he starts move faster.
“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” Jungkook smoothed back your hair and brought your face up so he could see your eyes. The eye contact seems to do him in. “Shit, shit, baby. Gonna cum…” He throws his head back in a long drawn out groan just as hot spurts of cum start to fill your throat.
You close your eyes and take everything that he gives you, slowing the motions of your head bobbing until he’s done, lazily licking the tip of his cock until he stops you.
“Was that okay?” You look up at him innocently, knowing that he’s wrecked at the moment.
“You’re fucking perfect.” His head is back against the shower wall as he laughs quietly.
You start to feel the ache in your knees, quickly wiping your mouth with your hand before you feel Jungkook wrap an arm around your waist to help you up. He smiles, then grabs some soap from the shelf behind you and scrubs himself clean with it, all you can seem to do is stand there in awe.
The desperation to be touched was becoming almost unbearable, but you try to keep your composure, letting Jungkook turn off the water and hand you a white fully hotel towel to dry off with. You both quickly take another drag from the slow burning joint on the counter, then move back into the bedroom area.
Jungkook has his white towel ties low on his slender hips. He’s walking around the room as if he’s looking for something and you aren’t sure what it could possibly be.
“Did you lose something?” You ask, taking a few steps closer to him.
“I had a necktie that I wore to dinner last night…” He tosses some things around in his suitcases.
“What do you need a necktie for?” The words left your mouth before your brain could catch up. But it suddenly dawns on you what he might be wanting to do with the necktie. “Oh…”
“Are you comfortable with that?” Jungkook gets down on his knees in front of the bed, flipping up the blankets and bed skirt to look beneath it.
“It would be…new, for me.” You tighten your hold on the towel wrapped around your body.
“All you have to do is tell me to stop, and I will. No questions asked, if you don’t like it.” Jungkook reaches under the bed and pulls out a red necktie. “Found it.”
“Yeah…I can try it.” You nibble on your bottom lip and nervously cross the rest of the space to the bed.
“So good for me.” Jungkook closes any remaining space between the two of you and kisses your waiting lips. His kiss draws out all the nerves and turns them into lust. “Lay down with your hands above your head, wrists crossed.” The smallest bit of authority in his voice makes your pussy ache in such a delicious way. “And get rid of this.” He undoes the loose knot of your towel and lets it fall to the ground around your ankles.
You let him gently touch your bare hip before he’s moving to the other side of the bed. He watches intently as you climb onto the oversized bed, laying your head on the fluffed pillows with your arms above your head and wrists crossed, just as he asked.
“I’m ready.” You release a long breath, eyes coming back to Jungkook, whose eyes are shamelessly roaming your naked body.
“I can’t stop thinking about your mouth.” Jungkook says, wrapping and unwrapping the silky red material around his knuckles. “But I’m ready to have a taste of you.”
You shiver, watching as Jungkook kneels up onto the bed, raising his hand above your body and letting the silk tie just barely ghost over your skin. He starts at your ankle, moving it up your calf, over both thighs and purposely avoiding the ache between your legs.
“Please hurry up, Jungkook.” Your body arches away from the mattress when the silky material brushes over one of your nipples.
“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” Jungkook coos, having mercy and wrapping your wrists up into the tie, attaching it to the headboard. “If you want me to fuck you, you’re going to have to be patient.”
You can barely take your eyes away from the sight of his naked body, until his mouth is suddenly on you. His mouth and tongue are having absolutely no mercy on your breasts and nipples. He groans each time he pulls a bud between his lips. The tie around your wrists is a torture you didn’t know that you needed.
“Jungkook…” You moan his name and he absolutely adores the sound of it. So much so, that he takes mercy and moves his body down the bed and settles between your thighs, his mouth quickly buried between them. “Oh fuck…” You pull at the binding, wishing your hands could lace into the blue strands of hair bobbing between your legs.
The mercy you thought you were receiving before is long gone. Jungkook is relentless with his tongue and lips. Long strokes of his tongue offset by quick sucks to your clit. It’s absolutely maddening.
You’re pulling at the tie so hard that you know you’ll have bruises on your skin in the morning. But the thought of it quickly passes when you feel Jungkook bury his mouth in your pussy, his nose brushing your clit as he moves his head back and forth in quick succession. You manage to look down between your legs just in time to meet his lust filled eyes, seeing him devouring you sends you over the edge hard and fast.
White flashes pop in and out of your vision as your body tries to recover from the insane orgasm you just experienced. Jungkook hums low in his chest as he licks up everything you’ve given him, kissing the insides of both your thighs as he stands up from the bed to look down at you.
“Do you think that you deserve my cock?” Jungkook stands at the end of the bed, tattooed hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it lazily.
“I’ve been good, haven’t I?” You pant and squirm against the satin sheets, hands and arms still above your head. He watches your face carefully.
“The things I want to do to you…” He bites into his bottom lip as he continues to touch himself in front of you. “But I have to get my cock inside that pretty pussy of yours before I explode.”
Your chest heaved up and down at the thought of him finally fucking you. You were so desperate that you knew you would do anything he asked of you.
“Can you please untie me now?” You needed to touch his body…his skin…his muscles….feel his hair. All of it.
“Look what you do to me, pretty girl.” He ignores your request, making you whine at the lack of attention to what you wanted, but also at the way he’s spreading pre-cum up and down the length of his cock.
“I want you so badly, Jungkook. Please.” You move your hips up as he climbs back onto the bed and kneels between your open legs. His eyes saunter down your body until they get to your pussy, big hands pushing your thighs further apart so he can get a better look.
“You’re so wet. Thinking about my cock made you drip like this?” He scoots closer, the head of his cock so close to where you want it. You pull at the tie on your wrists again.
“Untie me…please.” You beg again.
“Here’s what I’m going to do.” Jungkook ignores you again, making you want to cry. “I’m going to give you what you want. I’m going fuck you hard and fast. And I want you to tell me how good it makes you feel. Make sure the people in the room next door know how badly you wanted my cock.” Jungkook kisses your stomach and then your hip. It’s so gentle compared to the way he then reaches down and roughly grabs the globes of your ass, lining you up with his cock just the way he wants you.
“Please…” You can’t bear it anymore, the build up has been so intense you can feel tears start to leak from the corners of your eyes.
“Be loud for me.” Jungkook doesn’t wait anymore, he impales you on his cock, easily sliding inside with how wet you’ve become. But you still feel the ache of the stretch as you try to accommodate all of him at once.
You moan loudly, just the way he wanted. Pulling at your binds and cursing yourself over and over for agreeing to be tied up. Jungkook keeps his hands on your hips as he starts his ruthless pace.
You can feel sweat forming on your forehead already as your stomach begins to tighten with another orgasm. His perfect cock finds that spot inside you with ease and abuses it over and over again.
“Untie me…god Jungkook please…please.” Your face is wet with tears from pleasure as well as frustration.
“You’ve been so good, haven’t you? I think I can do that.” He bends down to kiss your mouth, something he hadn’t done for what seemed like hours. While he kisses you, he moves one hand from your hip to the red silky tie on your wrists and pulls the knot free.
As soon as you feel it loosen, you rip your hands away from the head board and dig them into his blueberry colored hair, pulling him closer and kissing him deeper. Jungkook smiles at the desperation. He loves it in fact.
You move your hands down and let your nails dig slightly into his skin as he continues to piston his hips against yours. Jungkook groans at the feeling.
“Come here.” He practically growls, sitting up on his knees and bringing you with him. Your arms wrap around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist, putting you in a somewhat riding position. Jungkook is able to fuck up into while on his knees, but keep you close. “You’re so fucking perfect.” His mouth is sloppy as it moves along your neck and collarbones.
“I’m going to cum again…you’re so deep.” Your mouth finds his, kissing him and breathing him in.
“You don’t need my permission, I want you to cream my cock. I want all of it.” Jungkook leans back on his hands, making the angle of his hips hit you even deeper than before. Your hands grip at his shoulders and hold on for dear life as he fucks you through another mind shattering orgasm. “You’re squeezing me so tight baby.” Jungkook's voice breaks off in a moan as you clench around him over and over.
“Please cum, Jungkook. I need it.” Your body feels boneless, but you can feel how close Jungkook is starting to get to his own end. “You’re fucking me so well…but I need you to come.”
“Your pussy feels too good…gonna cum.” Jungkook buries his face in your neck and buries his cock as deep as he can get as he finishes inside you. You feel warmth full you up and drip down your thighs as his thrusts come to a halt.
You both stay still for a moment, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. Your fingers mindlessly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“You’re okay?” He finally asks, bringing his face out of your neck to look at you.
“I’m great.” You laugh quietly. Jungkook smiles, then reaches behind his neck for your hands, bringing them around so he can look at your wrists.
“Does it hurt? They look like they might bruise…” His thumbs gently brush over your skin.
“I think I’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt now.” You watch him bring your wrists to his lips, pressing kisses up down each one.
“Do you want to sleep here?” He asks, softly lifting you from his lap and letting his softening cock fall from inside you, he looks at you concerned when you whimper.
“I can just…I can go home.” You scoot back on the mattress when Jungkook stands up from the bed. You didn’t want to overstay. You wouldn’t ever see him again, there wasn’t much point in staying.
“Are you sure? I can have my car take you home in the morning…or now. Whatever you prefer.” He then disappears into the bathroom and brings back a washcloth for you to clean up with.
“I’ll just get dressed.” You awkwardly clean up with the washcloth before heading to the bathroom to put it in the hamper and find your clothes.
You dress in a daze, but once you’re ready you back out into the room to find Jungkook in a pair of underwear sitting on the corner of the bed with his phone to his ear. You rub your hands on your thighs while you wait for him to finish.
“My driver is ready to take you home.” He pushes his blue hair back and tosses his phone onto the night stand.
“Thanks.” You continue to stand there without a clue what to do or say. “I’ll just…go.” You point at the door and start walking towards it.
“Wait!” Jungkook says just as you turn the handle. “At least leave me your number? If you’d be interested in seeing me next time I’m in town?” He grabs his phone again and crosses the room to stand with you. You wish you could stop the smile on your face.
“Sure.” You tap your number into his phone and hand it back. “See you around, Jungkook.” You kiss his cheek, but that is apparently not what he had in mind.
Jungkook grabs your chin in his tattooed hand and kisses you on the lips. It’s a kiss that tries to trick you into thinking that maybe he’s actually serious about seeing you again one day. It feels too complex.
“Goodnight, Y/N. I’d like it if you texted me when you made it home.” He pecks your lips once more, then releases your chin and takes a step back.
“Yeah, I can do that. Goodnight, Jungkook.” You open the door and step into the hallway, looking back just once more to see him smile down at the floor before the door closes.
#btsdreamcourt#btsgoldnet#btscreatorscorner#bangtansorciere#btshoneyhive#ksmutclub#btswritersclub#bangtanarmynet#clubzerooclock#52hertz#bts fic#bts smut#jungkook smut#bangtan fanfic#bts#jungkook#btscarnivalnet
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Out in the rain – JJK
P: Jungkook x female reader | G: fluff, drabble | Inc: playing in the rain, fever, Bam mention, Jimin mention, Namjoon mention, Yoongi mention, grad student!Jungkook, dance teacher!Jimin, y/n's also a grad student, sleepy Kookie my beloved | Wc: 980| W: food cw| R: G
Summary: Jungkook initially thinks nothing of spending hours in the rain with Bam; it’s fun, and he likes spending time with his Doberman. Y/n gets her I told you so moment when a fever descends upon the grad student.
Min's notes; This was cute <33 the ending feels a lil rushed tho, but eh- I like where I left it
In hindsight, Jungkook knew spending hours in the rain with Bam wasn’t the smartest idea. He’d woken up feeling like several trains ran through him. He ached. Blinking through the brain fog, he groaned; lethargy, shivering and a sore throat? He would be an idiot to deny the facts – he was sick. Very sick, if the lead weight in his limbs were anything to go by.
How absolutely wonderful.
Flopping back into the comfort of his sheets with little resistance, Jungkook shifted around, overly uncomfortable. Everything was off-kilter, and he couldn’t help but whine in pain when his head throbbed from the squirming. Wishing for the pain to go away without actively getting up to find painkillers wasn’t doing much to help either.
“Love? Good morning— Jungkook?” Walking towards the boyfriend-shaped lump on the bed, y/n frowned, concern knitting her brows. “Are you okay?”
“…’m sick. Everything hurts.”
“Am I allowed to say it? A nod. “I told you so baby, it was pouring with rain yesterday. You stay here, I’ll go and get the thermometer.”
Luckily for y/n, Jungkook hadn’t planned on moving at all. In fact, he was quite happy to melt away underneath his duvet.
Peeping his head over the covers, Jungkook squinted as light poured through the gap in the door, exceedingly grateful that he invested in a good pair of blackout curtains. Saved from looking at the sunlight any longer once y/n re-entered the room, Jungkook returned to the comfort of being under his covers completely. He was shivering – nothing like being smothered under his covers couldn’t fix.
And then his precious duvet was torn away from him.
“Hello there~” y/n snickered as her boyfriend whined, “ can you lift your head for me bun? I need to check if you’re running a fever." Ruffling his sweat-damp hair, y/n hummed as she stuck the device in her sick boyfriend’s ear. Jungkook was definitely running a fever; he was a full two degrees above the human average. With a sigh, y/n set the device aside, wrapping her arms around Jungkook to help him sit up.
“How bad?”
“Very. Think you can make it to the living room?”
“Mhm…” Throwing his legs over the side, Jungkook hauled himself up, taking a grand total of three steps before wobbling, leaning into y/n’s open arms. Determined, the grad student blinked back the bout of dizziness as he tried to steady himself, huffing out an exhale. The fever wasn’t going to keep him down if he had anything to say about it.
Nursing a thermos of green tea with Bam curled up on the sofa, Jungkook read through his thesis for the third time that afternoon. As sick as he was, grad student responsibilities came first; his thesis needed to be worked on, whether he wanted to work on it or not. Coughing into his arm, the student read over his notes, content with simply editing the work he had already done. Alone in the apartment, he had no plans to move from his spot, risking his fate by leaving his front door unlocked.
He was a student, if someone decided to barge in, he’d welcome them in. Anything to escape university.
There was someone tapping his shoulder.
“…Kookie? Earth to Jeon Jungkook?” Opening his eyes only to immediately squint through the brightness of his overhead light, Jungkook made a noncommittal hum. “Oh thank fuck, you’re alive.”
“Jimin hyung?” Blinking as the blob in front him nodded, Jungkook hauled himself up with a weak groan, his vision swimming just that little bit more before it cleared up. His skin boiling, Jungkook made a frail attempt at fanning himself with his shirt, too exhausted to react to the way it clung to him and the sweat on his body. What he did react to, however, was the lack of Bam’s presence on his sofa – they were laying together, right? Turning his head from side-to-side – with all the grace of a ragdoll – Jungkook still couldn’t tell where his canine companion had gone.
“Hyung..?” Jimin hummed his response from the kitchen. “Where’s Bam? I thought he was here on the sofa with me?” Accepting the bowl of soup while he waited for Jimin’s answer, Jungkook let the bowl rest on the table.
“Namjoon hyung came by and took him for a walk, like, half an hour ago? Probably still with him. Anyway, eat up; Yoongi hyung brought this over and you need to get your strength back.” The older of the two answered, gently flicking the brunet’s forehead. Laughing when Jungkook huffed, whining about not hurting the patient, Jimin turned his head and followed the sound of knocking at the front door.
There was quiet, and then Jungkook paused when he heard laughter.
Y/n was home! He’d live!
“Hello to you too, Mr I Have A Fever~” Y/n cooed, ruffling her boyfriend’s hair as she deposited her bag and coat off to the side. Waving Jimin off when the dance teacher eventually needed to leave, she went on about her day, filling Jungkook in about everything happening outside the confines of his front door. It sounded fun. Pausing her description of a boring media lecture when she finally noticed Jungkook watching her with ever-so-adoring curiosity, y/n’s features softened.
He was just too cute for his own good.
“Anything you want, baby? You’ve been looking at me like that for a while now.” There was a pause as y/n waited for her answer, more than content to return her boyfriend’s gaze.
“Just a nap,” Jungkook yawned, shifting around until his head was settled in y/n’s lap. “You’re here now… so ‘m gonna sleep now~” A smile on his face when he felt the soft press of a kiss to his temples, Jungkook let his eyes shut again that day, the heaviness of fever-induced sleep soon taking over. He welcomed it.
“Sleep well my love.”
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patient love | pt.2
banner by the talented val @eerieedits ❣️
pairing ↠ taehyung x reader
genre ↠ roommate au | college au | holiday au | best friends idiots to lovers au | fluff, (eventual) smut, angst.
summary ↠ Taehyung considers himself to be many things, and stupid isn’t one of them. However, all it takes is one special person in his life to realise that he is, in fact, quite stupid, especially when it comes to his feelings. And you (said special person), are stupid squared.
word count ↠ 13.1k
18+ | warnings ↠ same confused feelings as pt. 1, less sexy things happening and now we have angst *sigh*
notes ↠ this is so overdue, i’m sorry. (christmas was like six months ago but it’s still set at the same time). i hope you enjoy it though! <3 i’ll try to be much faster for the next (and most likely final) part! xo (also some part feel a bit stilted and/or rushed to me but i’m getting back into the flow of things so please excuse me lol).
taglist is open!
“Are you suuure you don’t wanna come and see a movie with me?” you ask Jimin for the fifth time today.
He laughs, closing up the till before turning to you. “Y/N, I love you and I know you love me, but a movie’s just not gonna happen.”
“Oh, come on, we don’t have to watch a movie then, what if we go get something to eat?”
Jimin’s eyes narrow, scrutinising you. “You have leftover pizza at home from the party yesterday, which is your favourite when it’s reheated, and you wanna buy more food?”
Damn. He got you there.
Humming, you try to brush off his suspicions. “I’m just in the mood to go out, you know?”
“Not really.” He leans onto the counter to get a better look at your face. “Seems like to me, you don’t wanna go home for some reason…”
“What?” Your eyes widen for a split second before you attempt to relax. “Why would I not want to go home?” you ask quickly.
“I don’t know,” Jimin murmurs, still clearly suspicious. “What are you hiding, Y/N?”
I made out with my best friend last night, who is also your best friend— oh, and I did it whilst I’m seeing someone else and now I’m avoiding both of them because what else does a girl do in this situation?
You practically ran out of the house half an hour earlier than usual today, all because you wanted to avoid even seeing Taehyung. You haven’t said anything to him since last night, and you don’t know what you would say.
“Nothing,” you answer hotly. “I just wanna spend time with you, we only ever really hang out at the cafe, I thought it would be nice to spend time somewhere else.”
Jimin stands up straight, smiling. “That sounds nice, although I already made plans to meet with Namjoon and Hoseok for dinner today—“
“That’s fine, I’m cool with that,” you interrupt, jumping to your feet with a smile. “I’ll just finish off these tables and we’ll go, yeah?”
“Alright,” Jimin shrugs. “But don’t think I don’t know you’re hiding something,” he adds, turning back to finish cleaning the counters. “You’ve got a shit poker face.”
“It’s not that shit,” you mumble, picking up the last of the dishes.
Jimin looks up. “So you are hiding something then?”
You purposely busy yourself with cleaning the table. “No, I just don’t think my poker face is that bad.”
“Yeah, right,” he snorts. “You’ve got it on now, it’s shit.”
He’s right, and you know it, but you know you’ll give yourself away the more you try to fight it. Jimin definitely notices when you so blatantly try to change the subject though, asking where you’ll be going for dinner, but he says nothing else on the matter and goes along with it.
For Hoseok, however, the same attempt to change the subject doesn’t work.
“But you hate being out this late on a Sunday,” he states simply. “You’re always complaining about your lectures being so early the next day.”
Rolling your eyes, you pull the nachos away from him. “Well I clearly don’t mind today.” You take a bite and chew this slowly.
“Okay, fine,” Hoseok says, taking the nachos back. “You wanna spend Sunday night out…” For a second, you think he’s gonna drop it, but this is Hoseok — he misses nothing. “But you have a whole ass boyfriend and you wanna spend time with us?”
Scowling, you take the nachos from him again, ignoring the guilt that pools in your stomach as you eat them slowly. You haven’t spoken to Ivan since yesterday at the party; even after he called, you didn’t respond and only texted back this morning saying that you weren’t feeling great. You’re not quite sure how you’re supposed to face him after yesterday. Sure, he’s not your boyfriend, but he’s as good as considering you’ve been seeing no one else but each other since the first date, and he’s made it very clear how much he likes you.
Still, you’re always quick to remind yourself and others of it.
“He’s not my boyfriend, Hobi, I told you that already.”
“Okay,” he smiles. “Boy toy, hubby, whatever you wanna call him.”
Looking up, you arch a brow at him. “Hubby? Really?”
He shrugs. “My point still stands, why us?”
From beside you, Jimin groans quietly. “Hobi, just let it go, I wanna order some actual food now.”
“Yeah, Hobi, just let it go,” you repeat, snarking playfully.
Letting out a sigh, Hoseok leans back into his seat. “Fine, I’m just making sure things are good.”
Just before you can answer, a quiet snort comes from Namjoon. “From what I saw, they’re good.”
“Oh, come on,” you mumble, cheeks warming — you know now that Hoseok and Jimin are going to want to know what happened if Namjoon says anymore, and while normally you wouldn’t mind the inevitable teasing, you honestly can’t remember much of your kiss with Ivan.
Sure, you remember what happened and how it happened, but you can’t remember how it felt. Every time you think about it, your mind always returns to Taehyung, and the kiss you shared with him.
Hoseok perks up. “Ooh, what did you see?”
“All I’m saying is, if I didn’t come in when I did,” Namjoon wiggles his brows, “we probably wouldn’t have seen Y/N for the rest of the night—“
“Joon!”
“Sorry,” he says while grinning, and Jimin and Hoseok break out into laughter.
“I guess I won't be asking again then.”
Averting your gaze from their smiling eyes, you purse your lips together and tug on the edge of your sleeve.
None of them notice your unusual quietness in a moment like this, until a few seconds later.
After exchanging a glance you don’t see, Jimin nudges you gently. “Hey.”
Looking up, you hum quietly.
“This is good, right? Last time you weren’t so sure.”
Hesitating, you silently curse yourself for putting yourself in this situation — you hate you to your friends more than anything.
“Unless you’re still feeling unsure?” Hoseok says, reading you like a book.
As guilt creeps in on you, you shake your head. “I just don’t think I wanna talk about it.”
That’s all it takes for the guys to nod, and Namjoon stealthily changes the subject to last night’s football game.
Listening idly, your mind eventually wanders off. Even here with your best friends, you're shit at hiding what’s up and you know it won’t be long at all before they piece things together, Jimin was already doing just that back at the cafe. Besides, Taehyung is one of your best friends, you can’t hide from him forever.
It’s clear to you that you need to talk to him, but for some reason, you find yourself wanting to know what he thinks about all of this — does he feel as guilty as you? Does he also feel as confused as you?… You’re aware that you shouldn’t be feeling confused — you’re dating Ivan and Taehyung is your best friend, what happened last night was a mistake. And yet, you can’t stop the soft fluttering you feel in your chest whenever you remember the feeling of Taehyung’s hands on you.
It’s easy enough to pin it down as you just being a horny fuck, considering it’s been a long time since you’ve had any action, but you know for sure that you don’t feel this way about the moment you shared with Ivan.
A part of you questions why that is, the answer there in the back of your mind but you don’t let it surface. It's been such a long time since you’ve met anyone who makes you feel as comfortable and happy as Ivan does — that’s when you don’t consider the people who have already been in your life, Taehyung included. But there’s a reason you started dating Ivan, and you still stand by the decision to do so. Nothing’s changed with him, in fact, things are only going upwards and he’s probably anticipating hearing back from you after you nearly went to third base last night.
He’s also probably wondering why you haven’t responded to his calls from last night, and his texts this morning.
Turning your phone over on the table, you glance at the screen and suddenly your heart beats a little harder. Taehyung messaged you a little over an hour ago.
[18:34] Tae: hey, I’m gonna go grocery shopping today, do you need anything?
Huffing, you turn your phone over again. You don’t know what else you expected from him, and you actually did need more granola and fruit for your breakfast but he’s probably already gone and come back home by now.
The waiter finally appears with the food, and as you enjoy your food, you decide to stop sulking and join the boys in their conversation in the hopes of taking your mind off of Taehyung. Clearly sitting here and sulking isn’t helping you feel any better so you might as well try to enjoy the rest of your night out before you go home and deal with whatever is waiting.
“So, are we all going to that frat party next week?” Namjoon asks.
Through a mouthful of shrimp taco, Jimin asks, “The Christmas one?”
Namjoon nods in response.
“Yes, of course we are,” Hoseok says, topping his taco with extra guacamole. “Right, Y/N?” he adds without even looking your way.
“Yes, we are,” you answer, sounding almost sarcastic as you smile plastically at Hoseok.
He glances your way, shrugging when he catches your expression. “Was just making sure.”
Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to your food. “Is anyone dressing up for it?”
“It’s not Halloween,” Namjoon garbles with his mouth full.
“No, but it’s Christmas,” you say. “You can still wear a Santa hat or something.”
The boys mumble in response and you know they won’t bother with it, so you make a mental note to buy them all something festive to wear on the day.
Hoseok swallows his bite before looking around to catch a waiter's attention. “Who wants a drink?” he asks. “It’s on me.”
Just as he flags one down, a small chorus of “me’s'' comes from your table and the rest of the evening passes by quickly in good company. Though you don’t drink too much, not wanting to go home inebriated to end up doing something stupid again when you inevitably see Taehyung.
“You know I’m perfectly capable of walking home myself.”
“Mhm,” Hoseok hums merely in acknowledgement, keeping his arm linked with yours.
“Seriously, I didn’t even drink that much, Hobi.”
“I know you didn’t.”
Huffing, you try to pull your arm from his. “Then let me go.”
“I’m only holding you ‘cos I’m cold, you idiot,” he sighs, tugging you on as he keeps walking in the direction of your apartment.
Grumbling under your breath, you give up and walk arm in arm with him towards your apartment.
Hoseok hasn’t said much on the walk home, nor does he say anything else as you keep walking, but he walks you all the way towards the apartment entrance, stopping only at the bottom of the stairs leading into the building.
“Thanks,” you say, turning towards him. “You really didn’t need to though.”
He shakes his head. “I live five minutes from here, it’s fine.”
Humming, you’re just about to lean in to give him a quick hug before he talks again.
“Tae is probably already at home,” he says casually, looking up at the building briefly.
You hum again, unintentionally looking down towards the floor as you’re reminded of Taehyung and the fact that you’re about to walk in and see him.
“Something’s bothering you…”
Looking up, Hoseok meets your face with a concerned frown. You’re just about to say something, but he interrupts before you can.
“You don’t need to say anything, I’m not asking you to. I just hope everything is okay.” His lips turn into a small smile. “It’s been a while since you dated anyone and you were happy just a week ago but today when we mentioned Ivan, you just looked all stressed and tense.”
“I know,” you mumble with a sigh.
“Normally the start of a relationship is fun,” he continues with a cheeky smile, “honeymoon phase and all that.”
“I know,” you repeat with a whine, realising how right he is — not even a month into dating Ivan and you’ve already fucked it up for yourself.
Hoseok sighs, pulling on your arm to bring you into a hug which you welcome. “Take your time with everything, okay? Just because things have been good with Ivan doesn’t mean you need to feel like you owe him or yourself anything.” He pauses, pulling back as he hesitates before he adds, “and you’re always allowed to walk away if it’s not what you want.”
Features pulling into a frown, you stare at him. Have you made it obvious that something has happened?
“What makes you say that?” you ask.
He shrugs, concealing the slightest hint of a smile. “Just… maybe he’s not the one for you.”
Taehyung immediately comes to mind and you internally curse yourself. Before you can even respond to Hoseok, he’s already stepping away with his usual smile. “Get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Waving, you turn away and get ready to face Taehyung—
“Hey, Y/N!”
Hoseok’s voice has you turning around again.
“Think about what you want, okay?” he says, too cryptic for your liking.
“Huh?”
“I’m just saying, maybe there’s a good reason you’re feeling like this. Don’t overcomplicate it.” With a sly wink, he turns around and walks back down the road.
Taehyung hasn’t texted you since that last message. It’s been more than three hours since you’re normally home and you wonder if he’s perhaps waiting up for you to make sure you get home. Of course, he could’ve just texted, but maybe he didn’t want to seem like an overbearing friend after last night’s events – when his tongue was down your throat and you loved every second of it.
A part of you is annoyed that he hasn’t said more, or even reached out to ask to speak with you about it, although you don’t know what you would expect him to say… hey, Y/N, so that was a great kiss last night, let’s do it again sometime? Or, hey, Y/N, huge mistake last night, I regret it so much… — see that would just hurt your feelings.
Pausing outside your apartment door, you take a few seconds to collect yourself before entering.
The lights are all off except for the tall floor lamp which spreads its warm colour all throughout the room. You naturally walk in quietly, wondering if perhaps Taehyung has gone to bed.
But then you see his sock covered feet extending out from the couch edge, and as you approach, you’re immediately endeared by the sight of him sleeping on the couch, fluffy hair covering his forehead with an open book laying across his chest.
You can’t help the way your chest tightens and the sound of Hoseok’s voice returns to you, echoing what he last said to you, and as though the pieces are suddenly falling into place, you remember what Imani said to you in the kitchen last night just before Ivan turned up.
“Although, I have to be honest, I was surprised when I heard you were dating someone.”
At this, you frowned. “Why?”
Pursing her lips, she shrugged. “I thought there might be someone else, but I guess I was wrong.”
Has it been that obvious to everyone but you? Have you really been falling for your best friend this whole time?
Thinking about it now, it seems like it would be almost impossible not to… you’ve always found comfort in Taehyung, preferring his company to others and finding little reminders of his love for you in whatever way he chooses to show it, whether it be the sandwiches he makes and leaves in the fridge for you, or the random cheek kisses he gives you, or even the times he makes sure to pick up after himself, knowing how much you hate mess.
Just as you’re about to walk away to find a blanket to place over him, he stirs quietly, stretching his limbs as his eyes open groggily.
Pausing in place at the end of the sofa, your mind falls blank as he catches sight of you. His eyebrows furrow softly and he sits up, rubbing his eyes before closing his book.
“I fell asleep,” he mumbles.
Naturally, your lips turn into a smile. “Were you not supposed to?”
“No, I was…” his eyes meet yours and he trails off, lips parted. Looking at them sends a gentle shiver down your spine, a little reminder of last night.
It’s easy to see Taehyung is thinking the same. His eyes briefly flit down to your lips before shaking his head. “No, I wasn’t,” he says quietly.
He doesn’t need to say more for you to know he was staying awake to wait for you to come home. Though, since you’re home past midnight, he fell asleep.
Nodding once, you find yourself feeling a little awkward with him and it’s no doubt got to do with the fact that neither of you have said anything to clear the air about what happened last night.
“You’re not normally home this late,” Taehyung says, the soft tone giving away his underlying concern.
“Yeah, I know.” You purse your lips subconsciously, giving away your hesitancy as you play with the end of your coat sleeves.
As usual, Taehyung doesn’t miss this. Placing his book on the table, he stands up and takes a step towards you. “Have you eaten?” he asks.
“Mhm.”
“Well, d’you want some tea?”
Looking at him, you frown. “Why?”
Hesitating, Taehyung looks down at the space between you for a moment to collect his thoughts before he looks up, releasing a small sigh. “You’re avoiding me.”
You’re about to blurt an excuse and tell him it’s not true, but Taehyung quickly carries on, but not without taking another step that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
“I don’t blame you,” he says. “Honestly, I was about to do the same but when you didn’t come home, I realised I don’t want both of us to avoid each other over something stupid like last night.”
Stupid. Of all the adjectives he could’ve used to describe last night, he just had to go with stupid. You almost want to laugh at yourself for being so naive, but another part of you is annoyed at Taehyung and you let out more of a scoff — he instigated last night more than you did, and you’re more than sure he was into it. So why does he now get to call it stupid?
Yet, as you look at him now, wearing an expression of apprehension and careful consideration, you realise you can’t be mad at him — he’s right, last night was stupid.
“We live together,” he continues. “It’ll be hard for us to avoid each other forever anyway.” He watches you carefully before tentatively reaching for your hand. His fingers curl around your palm as you meet his gaze. “And you’re my best friend,” he says softly. “I don’t think I’d be okay with not talking to you.”
Words catch in your throat and instead, you nod stiffly. Does he really not know how you’re feeling…? You feel like you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve right now and you imagine it would be easy for anyone to see the turmoil you’re in right now.
Clearing your throat, you break into a smile. “You’re right.” With a small squeeze of his hand, you let go. “We’ll forget it even happened, I don’t want us to be weird with each other either.”
Taehyung smiles, though you can still sense his hesitancy. “Good.”
“Well, I’m gonna go to bed now.” Picking up your bag, you turn towards your room and ignore the feeling of his eyes on you. “I have lessons all day tomorrow but I’ll be home by dinner.”
“Great, I’ll ask Seokjin if he can make your favourite then?” he asks.
Turning around at your bedroom door, you give him another convincing smile. “Sure, I’d love that.”
His smile widens and you feel your chest tighten. Thinking of being around him feels impossible all of a sudden, but as you say good night and close your bedroom door, you remind yourself that you’ve lived with him for this long without realising your feelings, so all you have to do is go back to that and focus your attention on Ivan.
Can’t be that hard, right?
“I won’t be seeing you again until after Christmas now, so please enjoy your holidays and don’t forget to turn in your assignments before the 18th!”
Your professor’s voice echoes in the lecture hall as everyone packs up, mumbling their greetings in return.
Being at the back of the class, you simply pack up and leave through the closest exit. Namjoon and Jungkook are waiting to have lunch with you but you need to quickly pop by the library first to return a textbook which is less than a few hours from putting a dent into your wallet.
Skipping up the steps in the main campus building, you mindlessly walk down a few more corridors. Well, not mindless — your head is full of thoughts, it’s just that they’re the same repetitive thoughts going through your head again and again. All to do with Taehyung as you aimlessly overthink all the encounters you’ve had with him recently.
Just as you reach the double doors of the main library, your phone begins vibrating in your pocket. Sliding it out, your stomach flips when you see Ivan’s name.
Pausing outside the library, you answer the call. “Hello.”
“Hey, Y/N.” Ivan’s voice is as calm as ever and you have to remind yourself that he, of course, has no idea about what happened between Taehyung and you.
“Hey, what’s up?” you respond, schooling yourself to calm down.
“Just a quick question, are you free tomorrow during the day?”
“Umm, let me check.” You quickly open up your phone calendar and see the day empty except for one class in the morning. So you’re free, but you ask yourself if you want to be free to see Ivan. A part of you wants to say ko, and to bury yourself in a pity hole where you can feel sorry for your stupid crush on Taehyung, but the logical part of you knows not to do that. You need to focus on yourself and that involves dating Ivan as you have been.
So you answer, “Yeah, I’m free after 12, why?”
“Perfect, would you like to come shopping with me? I have a few gifts I still need to get and maybe I can make you dinner after too.”
Despite everything that’s happened the last two days, the offer still puts a smile on your face. “Sure, that sounds perfect.”
“I’ll pick you up from campus around 12.30 then, yeah?”
“Yes, that's great.”
“Great,” Ivan says, and you can hear his smile through the phone. “Bye, babe.”
“See you,” you answer quickly, ending the call before your voice reacts to his pet name. Releasing a small sigh, you put your phone away and enter the library to make your way over to the self service station.
It makes you feel bad that you can’t even enjoy the possible start of something new with Ivan. He’s only ever been sweet to you and who knows, he could be the one! If only you weren’t so hung up on your best friend who you live with which only makes things worse.
As you scan your books to return, you remind yourself of the decision you made to focus on Ivan. Tomorrow is a perfect day for you to spend with Ivan and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t enjoy yourself.
“Y/N!”
An excited voice calling out your name has you freezing.
“Y/N Y/L/N!”
Again. It’s a voice that you hoped would never hear again, or at least not while you’re still in college.
Turning around slowly, you come face to face with one of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever come across, sporting a fake smile, though it’s so perfect you almost think it’s genuine.
Nisa Madan.
“Y/N, I knew it was you,” she says with a wave of her hand as she walks over to you.
“Hi,” you answer curtly with your lips pursed in a smile before turning back to your books. The quicker you return them, the quicker you get away from Nisa.
“It’s been so long,” she says, leaning up against your station.
“Has it?” you ask, your tone bordering completely unbothered.
“Yes, I last saw you like, what, six, seven, maybe eight months ago?”
“I guess, yeah.”
“So what are you up to these days?”
Pointedly swiping your student card at your station, you shrug. “Same as always.”
“Hm, that’s good to hear,” he says dismissively. “I was wondering when I might see you again.”
You merely hum nonchalantly, but Nisa keeps talking.
“It’s good timing really, I’ve been thinking a lot about you guys and how much I miss you.”
As you place the last book in the return basket, you feel the cogs whirring in your head, piecing together what she says before she says it.
“Well, actually, just Taehyung.”
There it is.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she says quickly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Jin, you, and all the other guys were all great company, but, well, there’s just no one like Tae.” She pauses, shrugging with a small frown. “Or at least, no one who fucks like him anyway.”
Exhaling slowly, you turn to look at her stupidly perfectly face. You can’t blame Taehyung for having dated her in the past based on looks alone, or even considering she’s pretty smart too with above average grades, but personality wise, Nisa is unbelievably obnoxious.
It just occurs to you now, that maybe part of the reason you dislike her so much has to do with the not-so-little revelation you made just last night — maybe a part of you is just jealous of Nisa because she was the object of all his affections for almost a year.
That is, until she went and broke up with him.
Yeah, that is still the main reason you dislike her. You’d never seen Taehyung show so much care and attention to any relationship before, but Nisa had no care for any of that as she still fucked around with other guys and played with Taehyung’s feelings before calling it quits.
She knew she was using him all that time while knowing full well just how much Taehyung cared for her, yet she still put him through months of endless games.
Nudging her hand off of your shoulder, you smile as plastically as she does. “That’s good to hear, I’ll be going now so bye.”
Ignoring your attempt to end the conversation, Nisa chooses to walk in stride with you as you leave the library. “Maybe I’ll see you later on today, actually.”
“And why would we be seeing each other again?” you ask with a very obvious sigh.
“It’s like I said, I’ve missed Tae. I’d love to see him again, maybe like we used to, you know?”
It’s hard to stop the scoff that escapes you. “And what would Taehyung think about that?”
Pursing her lips, she takes a few seconds before answering. “I’d have to work on that.”
“Hm, and how do you plan on doing that?”
She shrugs again, about to answer when you hear a voice calling her. Pausing, she turns around.
You’re just about to use this as your chance to get away, when the same voice speaks again and his tone has you looking back.
“Where d’you think you’re going?” He’s a tall guy, must be around the same age as Nisa and you although you don’t recognise him. He approaches Nisa with a frown and she rolls her eyes, not so discreetly.
“I told you I’d meet you by your car, why are you here?”
As he towers over Nisa, you find yourself coming to stand close to her as though you’re waiting for her.
“You were taking long,” he says, grimacing. “And why is it I come up here and hear you talking about another guy fucking you?”
Nisa rolls her eyes again. “Get over it, Josh. You’re not the first guy I’ve been with and chances are you won’t be the last.”
As Josh stands there momentarily dumbfounded, Nisa uses this as a cue to turn back to you.
“So,” she says, carrying on right where she left off, “how about I start by having lunch with you?” She slips her arm into yours as you walk down the corridor.
“Wait, what?” you ask, mind still wondering who Josh is, and why Nisa is even hanging out with someone as intimidating as him.
“I’ll have lunch with you,” Nisa repeats with a bright smile. “You know, so I can work on getting close to Tae again.”
Unconsciously, you stiffen. “Nisa, I don’t think Tae wants to get close again?” you say, posing the statement as a question.
“Why not?”
“Because he already gave you a chance, too many if you ask me.”
Nisa sighs, lips jutting out into a pout. “But there’s no one like him, I know that now and I’m ready to show how serious I am.”
Hearing her say that out loud has you wondering if Taehyung would ever take her back. There’s no doubt that he really did like Nisa; even though she’s obnoxious, he only ever saw the sweet, charming side of her. Just the thought of it has your jaw clenching and you have to ignore the pit of jealousy that stirs in your stomach.
“You had many chances to do that when you were with him, Nisa, which was months,” you say, trying only to sound like a concerned friend.
Somehow, you’ve ended up outside still walking arm in arm with her, and you only realise when you catch sight of Namjoon and Jungkook frowning at you.
Looking back at Nisa who still wears an apologetic pout, you pull your arm away from her. “Okay, so I’m gonna—“
“Oh, hey, Joon! Jungkook!” Nisa’s pout transforms to a dazzling smile and she’s strutting away from you and towards your friends before you can even finish your sentence.
Cursing inwardly, you follow behind her. When the boys glance back between you, you shoot them a look that very clearly says ‘don’t ask’.
“It’s been so long,” Nisa says with dramatic flair. “Last time I saw you guys was what, seven, eight months ago?”
As she more or less repeats exactly what she said to you earlier to them, you can’t help but roll your eyes and cross your arms, just waiting to see how this plays out.
The boys amicably agree, mumbling about how it’s been a while.
“Gosh, Kook, you’ve definitely gone bigger since the last time I saw you,” Nisa says, eyes narrowing as she boldly squeezes his arms.
Jungkook only smiles, proudly flexing for her too. “I mean, I go gym a few times a week, it’s nothing really.”
Nisa giggles sweetly, stepping closer to him. “This isn’t nothing.”
That inflates Jungkook’s ego even more. “Yeah, I guess I have been upping my weights a little recently.”
Namjoon and you only stand there, very openly judging Jungkook as he basks in Nisa’s flattery. When he glances your way, you both make sure he sees the judgement coming off of you, eyes narrowed and grimacing, which seems to snap him out of it.
Clearing his throat, he straightens up and the smile disappears from his face. “Anyway, it was good to see you but uh, I, we got plans.”
“For lunch?” Nisa asks.
“Uh, yea—“
“Great, I’ll join you,” Nisa quips, linking arms with Jungkook as she did with you.
Jungkook and Namjoon exchange glances while you let out a sigh. You’ve spent plenty of time with Nisa before to know she often gets what she wants by way of being persistent and annoying, and like now, it works because you’re not bothered to keep politely declining (and despite the many negative feelings you have towards her, you can never bring yourself to rudely decline her).
“Will Taehyung be joining us?” Nisa asks the question with too much excitement for your liking.
“No,” you snap, before grumpily joining arms with Namjoon and pulling him along to walk ahead of Nisa, leaving Jungkook to deal with her as you walk to your favourite deli.
“Sometimes I just wish I could get a sock and shove it in her mouth, you know?”
Ivan snorts on his hot chocolate, breaking into laughter as he hastily wipes around his mouth.
“I’m being serious,” you say, passing him a tissue. “She just talks and talks and before you know it you’re stuck at a table having lunch with her while she goes on about her summer and how hard it was because she had to choose between a road trip with her sister and her boyfriend, or a ski resort with her best friends.”
You throw a few stockings into the trolley with a little more force than intended, though you can’t help it after you just spent all of your lunch time with Nisa.
Turning towards Ivan with a massive candy cane in your hand, you point it towards him as you continue. “Which is a stupid choice by the way.” You didn’t actually want to weigh in with your opinion to Nisa so you do it now instead. “She should’ve gone on the ski trip, I mean, the choice is a no brainer. You can do a road trip any time but if you have the chance to go with all of your friends to a ski resort… I mean, duh.”
Ivan chuckles, nodding his head in agreement as he takes the candy cane from you. “You want this?”
Looking down at it, you frown, still feeling annoyed about Nisa. Although really there’s no reason for you to be this annoyed, except for your stupid crush on Taehyung. “No,” you mumble, turning away.
Before you can walk on, Ivan’s arm wraps around your front and he pulls you closer to him. “So you really don’t like this girl, hm?”
His warmth sends a shiver running down your spine, but there’s a sliver of guilt too. It’s becoming more increasingly apparent to you that you have a crush on Taehyung, yet you’re here, still trying to pretend your relationship with Ivan is normal just because you selfishly don’t want to ruin your friendship with Taehyung, and are afraid that he might not feel the same.
As these thoughts cloud your mind, you mumble in response to his question. “No.”
He nuzzles his face into your hair and it takes everything in you to relax. “She sounds like she can be quite difficult.”
“She is.” Your voice comes out quiet again as you start to sink into his chest, realising you’ve been talking about Nisa the whole time you’ve been with him which has been almost an hour so far from when he picked you up.
Just then, Ivan asks, “Hm, d’you wanna vent some more?”
Turning around in his arms, you meet his gaze, gentle eyes with a little concern but mostly amused. It’s moments like this that make you believe this could really work with Ivan, and the only thing stopping you, is yourself.
His arm snakes further around you, pulling you even closer. As a small smile grows on his lips, Ivan smirks.
“I’m good,” you murmur, eyes briefly dripping to his lips.
He quirks his brow. “You sure? You know I’m all ears for you.”
As you chuckle softly, you feel your cheeks grow warm. “Yeah, sorry, I’ve been talking about her all this time.”
Ivan shrugs. “It’s okay, I like hearing you talk.” He says it so sweetly, you can’t help it when your face naturally leans in closer.
“You better be careful otherwise I won’t stop,” you say quietly, eyes falling to his lips again.
With his signature charming smile, Ivan laughs. “I don’t want you to, baby.”
He lowers his lips to yours, pressing soft kisses a few times at first, and it’s you who holds him by the neck to kiss him a little more. The whole time you wait in anticipation for the butterflies to come, but they don’t, and Ivan is pulling away before you can wait anymore.
“Let’s pick this up later, hm?” There’s a playfulness in his tone as he raises his brows suggestively.
“That depends,” you hum.
“On?”
“How satisfied I am with my dinner,” you shrug, turning away to keep walking.
Ivan laughs, pulling the cart with him. “Babe, I’m an amazing cook, you’re gonna love it.”
“What about this cushion?”
“Lame,” you sigh.
“This candle?”
“He won’t ever use it.”
“Jin cooks right?”
“Yeah.”
“What about this?”
Turning around from the shelf with all the glassware, you see Ivan pointing at a very fancy looking knife block set on display behind glass. You walk over to him, eyes squinting as you read the label. “Sasaki masuta.”
It would be a good present actually since Seokjin is always complaining about the lack of utensils and knives are always essential.
Pulling out your phone, you do a quick search on the brand and after seeing only good reviews, you decide it’s perfect.
“Thanks, Ivan,” you say, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before taking a picture so you can come back to it when you finish shopping.
“You’re welcome,” he smiles, looking down at your phone as you tick off Seokjin’s name on your notes app.
“Now for Taehyung,” you think out loud, returning to the snow globes you were looking at.
“How about perfume?” Ivan asks.
The thought of Taehyung and perfume has you remembering the scent of his oud and bergamot perfume… the last memory that comes to mind is when you were sitting on his lap and it’s enough to make your knees feel weak now.
“He has enough,” you respond casually, trying to pull your focus from the memories resurfacing of that night.
“You said he liked photography, what about something for that?”
“Hm, I could but he’s kinda picky when it comes to his equipment.”
“Okay, what about a jacket or something? It’s always good to have choices,” Ivan suggests.
“I could, but I want it to be more meaningful,” you say, idly browsing through some dishware.
Ivan only hums, joining you as you look at the selection of plates and bowls.
“You wanna get him a bowl?” Ivan asks jokingly, holding one up.
Rolling your eyes playfully, you walk away towards another shelf full of snow globes that catch your eye.
“What?” Ivan laughs, following behind you. “It’s good if he loves cereal.”
“He doesn’t, unfortunately.” Looking through the snow globes on the shelf, you’re reminded of a special night from two years ago. Seokjin had gone home for the holidays and it was only Taehyung and you. It was the first time you were spending Christmas away from home and although Taehyung had only known you for a few months, he still dragged you out of your room and into the snow outside. After sneaking into the cafeteria to find trays, you spent most of the night sledding down hills around campus and playing in the snow.
“You’re gonna get him a snow globe?” Ivan asks while he idly browses through some of the trinkets.
“Maybe,” you answer, still thinking it through.
“Isn’t that a bit thoughtless?”
You spot one that looks perfect and take it off the shelf. “The opposite actually,” you smile.
“Hm,” Ivan hums nonchalantly, “just don’t get him anything too special, you don’t wanna get his hopes up.”
“Sorry,” you frown, turning around immediately to look at him, “what?”
You’ve never been one to appreciate other people telling you what to do and something about Ivan’s tone now tells you his words carry a lot more meaning.
Shrugging, Ivan continues to look at the shelf in front of him. “It’s just kind of obvious that he fancies you.”
For a second, you’re speechless. Not only is it awkward for you having now realised that you do in fact have feelings for Taehyung that are more than friendly whilst you’re seeing Ivan, but having Ivan state so simply that Taehyung has feelings for you, it makes your stomach swoop — in a good way. But when you realise that it’s Ivan who’s saying it and why, it leaves you feeling rather uncomfortable.
“Okay, first of all,” you say, “I’ll buy Taehyung whatever the hell I want.” Your tone has Ivan glancing towards you. “And secondly,” you continue, keeping your voice as calm as you can, “he doesn’t fancy me.”
Ivan raises his brows and for a second you think he’s about to challenge you and say something else, but then his lips purse and he only nods. “Okay, sorry, forget I said it.”
Now that is much easier said than done. For some reason, you keep remembering the look on Taehyung’s face right before he kissed you. It was more than just Iust in his expression when he said your name, asking for more, you’re so sure of it. But how are you supposed to be sure of that as long as you’re in a relationship with someone else? Someone else who can apparently see Taehyung’s feelings for you when you can’t even see yourself.
“Shall we go?”
Ivan’s voice pulls you from your thoughts and you nod. Walking with him to the cashier doesn’t feel the same, tension rife between you after the comment he made, though neither of you make any effort to clear the air.
“So this is the first time you’re coming to mine, right?”
It’s the first full sentence that has been exchanged between you besides the occasional closed questions such as ‘d’you want to listen to music?’ or ‘is it warm enough?’ during your car ride back to his apartment.
Truthfully, you’d forgotten that you’d be going back to his place and were a little confused when he drove past the turning you normally take to get home, and you only remembered a few minutes later. That’s probably because your head is still reeling from what he said earlier while shopping.
“Uh, yeah, it is,” you answer, still mostly quiet.
From the corner of your eye you see Ivan glance at you but he says nothing else as he presses the button to the elevator. He’s definitely aware that his earlier comment annoyed you and that you’re being more quiet than usual, and you appreciate he isn’t pressing you but you realise you ought to be more normal now that you’re about to spend the evening alone with him.
As the elevator doors open, both of you step inside and Ivan presses the button for the 12th floor, still saying nothing as you go up.
It’s only when you’re walking down the hall to his apartment does he slow down, gently tapping your arm.
“Wait,” he says abruptly, then going relatively pink as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, though you’re fairly certain you know what’s wrong.
“Uh, before we go inside, can we just clear the air between us?” He looks at you with his bottom lip pulled into his mouth and something about it is just endearing to you. Gosh, why does he have to be so charming?
“Sure,” you nod, releasing a small breath. The awkward tension was getting a bit too awkward for you. “Let’s forget it happened.”
“Okay,” Ivan nods, letting out a relieved sigh too. “I do apologise for it though,” he adds. “It was an unnecessary comment and I didn’t think about what I was saying.”
Lips pursed, you nod. There’s more you could say, but you’re afraid to say anything else in case Ivan tries to explain what he meant, to justify why he could possibly think Taehyung likes you, which would only give you false hope.
“It’s fine, apology totally accepted,” you say.
“Okay great,” Ivan lets out another sigh. “Can we hug it out?” Tilting his head, he stretches his arms out.
You laugh, stepping into his arms and he breaks out into a grin. “Okay, I feel much better now.”
He steps away to swiftly get into his apartment and you follow behind him, taking off your shoes at the entrance and looking around as you walk further. It’s a modest apartment, similar to yours albeit a bit smaller since he lives alone.
“So…” he says once you’re both in the kitchen. He raises his brows, looking around at the space.
“It’s nice,” you answer.
“Just nice?”
“No, it’s really nice, I didn’t actually expect it to be this nice.” You give him a smile.
“What?” he chuckles, “did you expect me to be a slob?”
Shrugging, you settle into one of the kitchen stools. “I guess I did fall for the stereotype that you’d just be another messy guy, but I’m definitely being proven wrong.”
“You live with two guys, Y/N, and your apartment is one of the cleanest and tidiest I’ve ever seen.”
You shrug again. “Jim is a tidy guy and he keeps Taehyung in check.”
Ivan nods, a small smirk growing on his lips. “And who keeps you in check?”
“I keep myself in check, thank you very much.”
He nods again, stepping towards you. “I’m glad to hear. So I shouldn’t have any problems whenever you choose to spend time with me here?”
“Are you offering me an open invitation to come whenever I want?” you ask, brow arched.
“For you, yes.” He steps closer, leaning towards your face. “Whenever you want.”
Smiling, your expression shows you’re impressed. “That’s a big move.”
Ivan shrugs. “I believe in grand gestures.”
Humming, you tilt your head. “Noted. Though I’ll have to see how good you cook before I make any promises on accepting your invitation.”
He chuckles, pulling away to the sink. “You won’t be disappointed,” he says, washing his hands.
“I hope not, I’m starving.”
He smiles, walking towards the fridge to collect ingredients. “Well how would you like to be my assistant in the kitchen?”
“If you’re okay with a hazard being in your kitchen, then yeah let’s go for it.”
Ivan walks back towards you with a handful of vegetables which he places on the counter before getting a colander out from the cupboard. “The only hazard you pose is being too hot,” he answers matter-of-factly.
As you burst into laughter, Ivan’s cheeks go pink as he facepalms and tries not to laugh at himself.
“That’s the cheesiest, most cringe thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Hey, at least I didn’t say anything like that on our first date.”
“Yeah, you probably wouldn’t have seen me again if you did.”
Ivan’s expression softens a little. “And now?”
“Hmm…” you twist on the stool, subconsciously avoiding his gaze. “Now I know you better.
“Or you like me too much,” he says with a smirk.
You throw him a sassy look. “Aren’t you supposed to be making my dinner?”
Laughing softly, he nods. “Yes, ma’am, let’s go.”
After a few mishaps on your part in the kitchen, Ivan takes over fully and it’s almost two hours later that you’re finally getting to eat something.
Through mouthfuls of food you praise Ivan’s cooking skills, eating mostly quietly as Ivan carries the conversation, telling you about his week including the antics of his football team.
“Oh, Charlie’s the guy with the glasses right? Light brown hair?”
“Yeah that’s him,” Ivan answers, adding another serving of roast potatoes to your plate.
With a satisfied smile, you swallow what’s in your mouth and take a sip of your drink too. “He lives in the frat house, right? I think Jungkook was talking about some Christmas party he and the other guys are hosting.”
“Mm, yeah, they’re going all out for it but some of those guys have the money to spend so I guess it’s alright for them.”
“Whatever floats their boat,” you shrug. “Are you gonna go?”
“Yeah, most likely.” Ivan takes a sip of his drink, watching you savour a mouthful of food. “What about you?”
“Yeah,” you mumble with your mouth full. Swallowing, you nod. “Jungkook and Hoseok are pretty tight with some of the guys so they’ll probably ask us to come and I have no reason not to.”
“But do you want to?”
“Yeah, I like the occasional party,” you hum.
“Hm, it’ll be nice to see you there,” Ivan says, a suggestive lilt to his voice.
“See me there?” You raise a brow. “Shouldn’t you be asking me to be your date?”
Ivan laughs, revealing his charming boyish features again that makes your stomach swirl. “You’re right, I just didn’t wanna be too forward.” He leans forward, taking one of your hands.
Arching your brow with a mischievous, you lean forward too.
“Y/N, would you be my date to the Christmas party?”
Squeezing his hand, you smile. “Absolutely.”
Naturally, Ivan’s eyes drop to your lips and he leans even closer to place a quick peck on your lips. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Shall I put these in the fridge?” you ask, clasping the lids on the tupperware containing the leftover food.
“Yes, please,” Ivan says, glancing over his shoulder as he finishes cleaning the dining table.
After placing the food neatly in the fridge, Ivan places the last few dishes in the sink.
“I can wash up if you like?” you offer.
“No no.” He quickly puts on the washing up gloves. “Don’t worry, I’ll do them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah of course,” he says, adjusting the temperature before starting. “This was my treat to you so please just relax.”
“Oh,” you smile, leaning against the counter. “What did I do to get treated?”
He shrugs. “Just existing I suppose,” he says with a smile that matches yours. “And for letting me date you.”
“Is that such a privilege?” you laugh.
“Oh, huge privilege,” he says with an exaggerated flair.
Feelin your cheeks warm, you hum quietly. “Well, I definitely appreciated the dinner. It was ten out of ten and that’s coming from someone who eats Jin’s food regularly.”
“So that’s definitely a compliment then,” Ivan says, stealing glances at you as he finishes washing up.
“Absolutely,” you hum, walking over to the fridge where there’s a few photographs stuck with various touristy magnets.
They’re mostly with the same people who you assume to be his family, and a few with friends. “So no embarrassing Shrek like photos here, hm?” You turn around to see him smiling.
“Nope. I’ve been the same ever since I was young.”
Taking off one of the pictures of him when he must’ve been a teenager, with a goofy grin and a very questionable haircut, you hold it up towards him. “Looks the same to me,” you shrug.
Ivan laughs, placing the last clean dish to the side as he pulls off the gloves. “You’re on drying duty for that.”
Feigning offence, you pout and he makes his way over to you. “I thought I was being treated.”
“Hm, you were,” he says, sliding his hands around your waist. “But I’ve changed my mind.”
Ignoring the awkward way your body stiffens, you force yourself to relax into his embrace. “Meanie,” you mumble, lowering your head.
Ivan chuckles this time, low and smooth. “Well how about after you’re done, I treat you again?”
“More food?” you question.
He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “I was thinking of something else.”
“Oh.” Oh.
Meeting your gaze, Ivan smiles softly. “If you want.”
“Um…” there’s absolutely no legitimate reason for you not to, besides the foolish crush you have on your best friend who, apparently, according to the tempting man standing in front of you, reciprocates those feelings.
Feeling Ivan’s warm breath on your neck stirs something inside of you, and when you accidentally glance down at his lips, you can’t help but lean forward just a little.
Ivan responds, hand pressing into your back a little deeper. With your chest close to his, you lean in further and close your eyes, and sure enough, within a second, Ivan’s lips are on yours.
He moves slowly at first, as though he’s testing the water, making sure you’re okay with it. Truthfully, you don’t know if you are.
With every second his lips are on yours, you feel your mind racing — it finds the thoughts and feelings from the night that seems to be burned into your memory.
Ivan’s lips are on yours but you’re not thinking of him, his hands are on your waist but you wish them to be another’s.
It’s no surprise to you that you suddenly go still, one firm hand on Ivan’s chest to get him to stop and he does so immediately.
“I’m sorry,” are the first words that come from him, making you feel so guilty for doing this to him.
Shaking your head, you quickly respond. “No, it’s okay, I just, um, I don’t think I'm feeling well.” Hugging your arms around yourself, you do everything you can to avoid his gaze.
You’re certain Ivan knows that’s a lie, but if he does, he says nothing like the gentleman he is.
“That’s okay, do you wanna sit down for a bit? I can make you tea too if you like.”
The care in his tone has your stomach twisting. It almost feels like you’re cheating on him with your feelings for Taehyung, although you’re not actually dating (and not to forget that you have in fact made out with Taehyung whilst you’ve been seeing Ivan).
“Sure,” you nod.
“Okay, it’s chamomile, is that good?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll make it now,” he says, tentatively reaching out to hold your back as you walk towards the couch. “Blanket is on the end of the couch if you want it,” he lets you know.
Looking at him, you nod with a small grateful smile. He smiles back and it has your stomach twisting again. When he walks back towards the kitchen, you let out a small sigh. You have a lot of thinking to do.
For the fifth time, you put your alarm on snooze, hoping to doze off into a sleepless dream again but this time sleep doesn’t come.
With a heavy sigh, you pry one eye open and look at the time. 12:07. It’s a good thing you don’t have a morning class today. Sitting up slowly, you throw the covers off and trudge towards the bathroom, eyes still half closed. Being left with an hour to get to your afternoon class is enough time but you’re moving at a snails pace and don’t particularly feel like your usual self this morning, the awkward ending from last night still replaying in your mind.
After Ivan made you tea, you didn’t want to be any more rude than you already felt so you made sure to drink it down to its last drop. Thankfully Ivan did all he could to make you feel comfortable, even finding an old season of modern family and wordlessly paying for it so he could stream it for you to enjoy — it was almost a month ago you’d told him it was your comfort show and when you realised not only had he remembered that, but he also paid for the season, you couldn’t help but feel bad.
After a mellow conversation, he offered himself to drop you off home and you accepted. Before you got out of the car, he didn’t make any move to give you his usual goodbye kiss but you went in for it yourself and he didn’t make anything seem awkward at all as you said goodbye.
Honestly, you’re grateful for him and wish you could stop feeling so conflicted when there’s no doubt about him being such a good guy and you only realised your feelings for Taehyung a few days ago, though now that they’ve arisen you’re certain you’ve had feelings for him for far longer. Either way, you need to figure things out and be honest not just to Ivan, but to yourself as well.
That’ll have to wait a few hours though because right now you’re hungry and after that you need to get to class and focus.
Walking towards the kitchen, you almost freeze when you see Taehyung is there too. His back is to you, broad shoulders still visibly flexing under the material of his loose tee, and the messy curls atop his head tell you he hasn’t brushed his hair this morning.
Having heard you coming, he turns around and smiles. “Afternoon.” He holds out an iced coffee.
Stepping forward, you take it from him. “Thanks,” you smile, fighting the jittery feeling that stirs in the pit of your stomach. Maybe having a coffee isn’t a good idea.
“I was gonna make you breakfast too but I couldn't be bothered, sorry,” he says, grabbing an apple from the bowl as you place the glass down on the counter.
“That’s okay, I can make it,” you chuckle, taking the bread out. “I’m gonna have avocado toast and egg, you want some too?”
Taehyung hums. “Would love some, thanks,” he grins. “Can you scramble my egg though?”
“Sure,” you answer, turning around to face him with your eyes narrowed. “I bet you knew I was gonna offer, didn’t you?”
Laughing, Taehyung takes out the avocados from the fridge. “I made you coffee, you always make me breakfast after,” he shrugs. “But you make the best breakfast and I make the best coffee, so it works.”
Scoffing lightly, you take the avocados from him. He settles on the table as you prepare breakfast and you can’t ignore the fact that you’re acting awkward with him and it’s making your conversation feel rather stilted.
It’s not like you can help it though when you made out with the guy a few nights ago and since then have realised you might be harbouring a fat crush on him.
A short ten minutes later, you’re joining Taehyung on the table with a yummy breakfast to enjoy.
“Thanks, Y/N,” he mumbles through his first mouthful of food.
“You're welcome.”
He swallows quickly, already preparing his second bite and you almost expect him to eat in silence as he enjoys his food but he doesn’t. “How was your dinner with Ivan yesterday?”
“It was good, but how did you know?” you ask. You know for sure you didn’t tell Taehyung or Seokjin where you were yesterday evening.
“Jungkook told Hobi who told Jin, then Jin told me.”
“Ah,” you nod, smiling. “Right.” You remember telling Jungkook about Ivan inviting you for dinner when you had a brief moment alone with him away from Nisa at lunch yesterday. No doubt he was just excited for you, as are the rest of your friends.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Taehyung asks, forgoing his manners as he asks through a big mouthful of food.
“Not at all.”
“Good,” he nods. “So, did he cook for you?”
Stealing a glance at Taehyung, he seems to be completely casual and although that makes you feel a certain type of way — maybe a part of you wants him to feel more bothered by it — you embrace the normalcy instead.
“Yeah, it was actually surprisingly good.”
“I bet I can make food just as good.”
Smiling, you take another bite before answering. “You only learnt how to boil pasta a few months ago.”
“Hey, it’s hard getting it to al dente,” he says a little defensively. “Besides, my skills have developed.”
“I wouldn’t try to compare yourself just yet,” you laugh. “You burnt frozen dumplings just a week ago.”
“I forgot to turn the heat down,” he frowns, looking up when you quietly laugh. “Alright, what else can he do that I can't do then?” he asks, his man sized ego coming out.
“No way I’m not comparing you,” you say, shaking your head.
“Why not?”
Because no one else compares to you, the voice in your head responds to you. Feeling yourself going warm, you answer simply, “Because, I just wouldn’t.”
Taehyung has always been able to pick up on any of your emotional cues so now you’re sure he can see right through you. The thought of it leaves you feeling somewhat embarrassed, so you force yourself to look at him.
“If I had to though,” you say, choosing your words carefully, “I’d say you’re fairly similar.”
He raises a brow in surprise. “We are?”
You shrug. “Yeah.” Now that’s a bit of a lie. “Why? Did you think you’d be so different?”
“I guess so,” Taehyung answers slowly, making you wonder if he’s having to choose his words as carefully as you are. “I mean, you’re dating the guy so you’d see something special in him that I don’t have, no?”
The words sound almost vulnerable from him and if you weren’t looking at him you would most certainly think so, but there’s a small sly smile on his face (which, unknown to you, he’s having to put on).
“You guys are different in different ways.”
“Fair,” he nods. “Though I have to say, in the looks department, we’re both doing pretty good.” He takes another forkful of food and you can still see his smile when he looks at you while chewing. “Right?”
Fighting a smile, you refuse to give him the answer he wants to hear and keep eating.
He smiles, leaning forward. “It’s alright, Y/N, it’s no secret you think I’m handsome. We established as much when I was basically stuck to you, remember?”
You almost facepalm remembering the other day in the kitchen and the conversation that passed. Not only had he told you he’s caught you checking him out, but he also called you attractive.
Looking at Taehyung, he gives you a devilish grin and you know he’s revelling in this.
“Of course I think you’re handsome, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have made out with you the other night, would I?” you answer, casually taking a sip of your coffee.
It’s hard not to break into laughter when Taehyung’s own cheeks go pink and he seems to break into an embarrassed smile. “True,” he answers honestly. “And from what I remember, you seemed to be into it.”
Suddenly it feels a lot warmer in the room and instead of feeling awkward like you did a little while ago, everything Taehyung is saying seems to be encouraging you.
“I could say the same about you.”
He lets out an amused laugh. “Oh, without a doubt,” he responds without thought. When he catches your gaze, he adds, “I was definitely into it.”
Your mind races, scrambling to acknowledge what he really means, but there’s a part of you — the insecure and helpless part — that refuses to go there.
“Right, so what does it take for you then?” you say in the hopes of moving the attention away from yourself.
He frowns in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“For you to be ‘into it’?” you say, marking the last two words with finger quotation marks. “I’m definitely not the first girl you’ve made out with and I won’t be the last, so what does it take for you?”
At that, something in Taehyung’s expression flickers and if you’re not mistaken, you see a glimpse of annoyance.
A beat of silence passes before he says anything. “It changes I suppose,” he answers, curling the end of his straw and for a short moment he’s quiet again and you almost think you’ve pissed him off, but then he asks, “What about you?”
Slowly shrugging, you actually take a minute to think about the answer but besides your feelings for Taehyung, you come up short. “I guess it changes too,” you say, mirroring his response, and apparently his mood too as the atmosphere between you both changes to one that feels almost stifling in both a good and a bad way.
It feels as though there’s more to say but you just can’t say it, yet you enjoy the feeling of being caught in such an honest conversation with Taehyung.
“Can I ask you something?” Taehyung says while avoiding your gaze.
Despite the way your nerves heighten, you answer normally. “Yeah.”
“It’s kinda personal though,” he says with a nervous smile.
“That’s okay, I won’t answer if I don’t want to.”
He nods, lips pursed. “Okay, uh… did you sleep with him last night?”
“Oh.” Your cheeks grow warm for the nth time.
Taehyung almost immediately clarifies. “I just mean, because, well, we spoke about it that night and you were there kinda late last night but you didn’t stay so I just wanted to know… if everything was alright?”
“Um, yeah it’s fine. I don’t mind you asking,” you answer honestly. “And I haven’t,” you add after a pause.
He nods. “Everything’s okay though, right?”
Caught in the moment, you find yourself answering honestly. “Um, I don’t know…”
You immediately find concern in Taehyung’s expression and you have to rush to reassure him.
“It’s not Ivan, he’s always been sweet,” you say quickly. “It’s just me…” you trail off, unable to find the words to continue.
“It’s okay to not feel like you don’t have an answer,” he says softly. “Keep taking your time with him if that’s what you want.”
Feeling a sharp rush of emotions, you look up. “What I want?”
Taehyung pauses, gaze holding yours for a moment and although it makes you feel completely bare, you don’t look away. He nods again. “Only if it’s what you want.”
Slowly, you nod as well, gaze falling to your food.
“Sorry,” he says with an awkward laugh. “Did I make it awkward by asking that?”
Shaking your head, you smile. It is a little awkward, but it’s like you’ve never had awkward moments with him before. “No, I mean, as long as we don’t make it awkward.”
“You’re right, okay,” he nods, pushing his empty plate away from him as he leans on the table. “So Y/N, tell me about your day.”
“Well, it just started an hour ago.”
“Oh, yeah,” he says, deflating somewhat.
Fighting the part of you that wants to reach over and squeeze his cheek, you laugh quietly and ask him a question. “Why don’t you tell me about your day?”
“Well, I woke up early because I thought it was Thursday and Professor Clark is an ass to people who are late,” he says with much expression.
“Oh, he’s the one who embarrassed you a few weeks ago right?”
“Made fun of my clothes and all, just ‘cos I was ten minutes late,” Taehyung sulks.
“He’s not wrong though,” you say with a giggle. “Sometimes your clothes always look like your wearing pyjamas.”
Taehyung shoots you a look. “Being able to pull off comfort and style is a skill.” You shrug in response and he continues. “Anyway, then I realised it’s Tuesday and I don’t have class so I tried to go back to sleep but it didn’t work.”
You hum through a mouthful of food. “That’s annoying.”
“Trust me,” he sighs. “Then I just played PS4.”
You raise a brow. “All morning?”
He nods. “Had nothing else to do.”
“Could’ve worked on your assignment,” you say before taking the last sip of your coffee and slurping while keeping your brows raised at him pointedly and amused.
He narrows his eyes at you. “You’re reminding me of Clark.”
Laughing, you lower the empty glass to the table. “I’m way nicer than Clark. If he was here he’d probably call out the fact that you haven’t even combed your hair today.”
Taehyung groans. “C'mon man, I’m at home today.”
As you laugh again, you have to briefly avert your gaze as he throws his head back in mock annoyance.
“I didn’t say it looked bad,” you add. “It almost looks… cute.”
“You sure you’re not just saying that ‘cos it’s me?” he says with a cheeky raise of his brow.
Smiling plastically, you lean your elbows on the table. “Absolutely not. It’s the hair and the hair alone.”
Taehyung opens his mouth and before he can say anything else, Seokjin enters.
“Hey, guys,” he says, walking in casually.
Taehyung and you both respond in unison. “Hey.”
“Man, today has been a long morning,” he sighs, slumping into the seat beside Taehyung.
“Classes?”
“And work,” he mumbles.
“They should pay you overtime for the way they extort you, I swear,” Taehyung says, reaching to massage Seokjin’s shoulders.
“It sucks to be good at your job,” Seokjin mumbles again before sitting up in sudden frustration. “Oh and now they want me to work on the day of the boys’ Christmas party too!”
“Charlie’s?” you ask in surprise. Seokjin had made sure to have that evening off because it was the first time in a long time that Imani would be able to join him for a frat party.
He nods with a huff, slumping back into the chair. “I said no again though, but I gotta wait for management to get back to me.”
“Hopefully it’s okay,” you say, squeezing his arm. “If not, we’ll throw another party for you and Imani.”
Seokjin sits up, rounding his eyes at you. “You just threw my birthday party.”
“I’d do it again,” you answer with a shrug. “It’s kinda fun.”
Taehyung laughs. “You were stressed out for most of it.”
Narrowing your eyes at him, you strive to make a point. “I still organised the whole thing with my fabulous management skills.”
Taehyung scoffs, hiding a smirk. “Okay miss management skills, your time management needs working on.”
“Huh?” you frown.
He arches his brow. “Don’t you have class in ten minutes.”
Eyes darting to the clock, you see it’s almost 1pm. With a string of curse words you’re rushing to your room and Taehyung laughs softly from behind you.
Getting dressed into decent clothing, you rush towards the front door and see Taehyung standing there with your favourite snack bar and a banana.
“In case you get hungry,” he says, zipping them into your bag as you slip into your shoes.
“Thanks,” you say in haste as you rush out the door. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” he responds, watching you as you rush down the corridor.
It’s only when you’re sitting halfway through your lecture that you realise how natural that exchange felt, and the thought of it warms your heart.
It’s when you’re halfway through your work shift that you get a text from Ivan asking to meet. At first you’re confused because he never usually asks to meet so last minute, but then he sends a follow up text saying he has something he wants to talk about. The message sends your thoughts spiralling but you do your best to ignore it for the remainder of your shift and luckily you have Jimin to help with that.
But when you arrive at the agreed restaurant, it feels like there’s an elephant in the room as soon as you step foot inside.
“Hey,” you say, taking a seat at the table he’s at.
He looks up, a smile gracing his lips when he sees you. “Hey.” He gives you a brief hug as is normal when you greet him.
“You want anything to eat?” he asks almost right away.
“Uh,” you pause, glancing at the menu. “Are you gonna eat?
Realising you’re making the decision based on his, Ivan nods. “Yeah.”
“Okay, yeah, I’ll get something too.”
Smiling, Ivan puts the menu in front of you ajd despite the feeling that he has something important he wants to say, you appreciate him trying to make you feel comfortable first.
Even when the food comes and you eat, he keeps the conversation going, smiling and laughing as he normally would.
It’s only when you’re done that you ask the question. “So what did you want to talk about?”
Ivan smiles, though this one is different to the ones you’ve seen before. It’s apologetic and seems a little sad.
“Us,” he says quietly. “Um, I don’t wanna beat around the bush so I’m just gonna be really honestly here, but I like you, Y/N.” He looks into your eyes when he says it and your stomach curls from guilt because in this exact second, you realise this reaction isn’t the right reaction to those words from the man you’re seeing — and in this moment, you realise you don’t want to be with Ivan.
As though he can read your mind, though you’re sure your expression gives away all thoughts, Ivan nods with an almost sad smile on his face.
“When I first started seeing you, I didn’t expect anything from us so soon but the more time I spend with you, the more I wanna know you, be with you.” Tentatively, he takes your hand and you let him. “I was happy with how things were going, but sometimes it felt like you were holding yourself back, and then yesterday happened,” he says, looking down at your joined hands. “I don’t need to ask to know what it meant, and honestly I just don’t know how to keep going when it feels like your heart isn’t in it,” he says with a quiet sigh.
Lowering your head, you bite your lip. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he says right away. “It’s really not your fault, I don’t want you to be sorry, please don’t be.”
Meeting his gaze, you see he’s smiling reassuringly and so you do too.
“Really, I’ll be okay, it’s definitely better for me to nip my feelings in the bud now and I’m glad I can be honest with you.”
Nodding, you squeeze his hand. “I should’ve said something sooner,” you sigh. “I guess I was just being selfish… you’re truly one of the sweetest guys I’ve known and it was unfair of me to hold onto you when I know I wasn’t ready for it.”
“I’m just not the right person, and that’s fine,” he says. “But I hope you do find what it is your heart wants, Y/N.”
Looking up at him, he gives you a knowing look.
“It’ll just take a little bit of courage from one of you, but I’m sure you’ll find exactly what it is you’re looking for.”
The words are said without explanation but you know exactly what they mean. Not only does it feel hard to hear them from Ivan, but knowing he’s known about your feelings for Taehyung this whole time just hurts.
Throwing your arms around him, you hold him in a long hug and fight the tears that want to spill. “I’m so sorry,” you mutter.
He pats your back and you hear him chuckle. “Don’t be sorry, I just want you to be happy, okay?”
Nodding, you hold him a little tighter before letting go. “Can we still be friends?” you say, voice breaking but you fight to keep yourself contained.
“Of course,” he laughs. “I’ll always be here for you, whenever you need me.”
Sniffling, you nod. “Thank you. Me too,” you add. “I’ll be here for you whenever I can.”
He gives you a small smile and pulls you in for another hug. “Thank you for everything, Y/N.”
After almost forty minutes, you’re finally trudging up the steps to your apartment. Ivan had offered to drop you off home but you wanted the long walk home to maybe help in some way to deal with your emotions.
It didn’t really help though. Although you didn’t have romantic feelings for Ivan, you can’t help but feel a multitude of emotions about tonight.
Ivan honestly was a dream man, ticking so many of your boxes and more that you hadn’t even thought of. It definitely hurts to have lost him now but you still feel grateful for the time you had with him. Not only because he made you smile and laugh as much as he did, giving you a good few happy memories, but also, it’s because of him that you’ve realised the extent of your feelings for Taehyung and it’s almost made you feel more sure of yourself to tell him the truth.
If Ivan could see your feelings for Taehyung, surely he’s not wrong about Taehyung’s feelings for you?
Still, it doesn’t mean the thought of being honest with Taehyhng feels any easier, and truthfully, right now you don’t feel like admitting your feelings to him. It feels wrong to do so when you’ve just ended something that was undoubtedly special with Ivan.
Entering the pass for your apartment, you’re so consumed with your thoughts and the tempting call of your bed that you almost don’t notice Taehyung standing in the kitchen making a cup of tea.
“Y/N?”
His eyes are wide when you look at him, almost worried. Then they look you over and his face changes to one of concern. “Are you okay?” he asks, ignoring the cup of tea and rushing over.
For a second you wonder how he must know but then again, you did walk in practically sulking and after briefly tearing up a few times on the walk home, your eyes are probably red.
“Not really,” you mumble, sinking into his embrace. It feels so comforting and though your mind tells you it’s wrong to seek comfort from Taehyung now, you can’t help but notice how right it feels.
“Tae?”
That voice.
Going still in his arms, you look up towards the source of the sound, not noticing Taehyung has gone still too.
“Tae-tae.”
That voice — you know that voice, far too well.
Just as the mental image of her appears in your head, the woman herself appears in front of you, sauntering out of Taehyung’s room dressed only in his T-shirt.
“Oh, hello, Y/N.” She smiles like the cat that’s got the cream and boy, does she have the cream.
Letting out a slow breath, you feel yourself uncurling from Taehyung’s arms.
“Hi, Nisa.”
A/N: thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please reblog / leave a comment / send an ask! it means a lot <3
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#btswritingcafe#thebtswritersclub#bangtanbathhouse#akademia net#ficscafe#btscreatorscorner#kim taehyung fanfiction#taehyung x reader#taehyung college au#taehyung x you#bts fanfiction#bts college au
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Promise
Summary: Post-Busan concert, with major announcement heavy in his mind, Yoongi reflects on what's to come.
Pairing: Yoongi x female reader
WC: <1k
Genre: idol!au, established relationship, domestic Yoongi, fluff
Rated: PG-13
Warning: indirect mention of enlistment
A/N : this is just a love letter to BTS and Army's special bond.
~Part of the Domestic Yoongi Series~
You enter the hotel room quietly, fully aware of the late hour. The dim light greets you, and you remove your shoes carefully. Your legs are sore from the standing and walking, but you are on a high from the concert. You tip toe to peek at the adjoining room to find your kids sleeping soundly. Glad that you don't have to deal with their night routine, you walk further into your room to find your husband in a chair, with a glass of whiskey, facing the floor to ceiling window with the beautiful Busan skyline beyond.
"Hey babe," you hug him from behind. He smells so nice and fresh, but he also feels tense. You kiss his cheek.
He turns slightly to kiss you back, and that's when you see it- the pensive, almost melancholic expression on his face. Deciding that your own shower can wait, you settle to hug him from the back.
"Had fun?"
"Mm hmm," you murmur. You met up with your friends for the Live Play at Haeundea Beach, and it was nice to enjoy the festivities simply as a fan. However, when you saw the close ups during Spring Day, you knew the significance of the emotions in your husband's and his brothers' faces.
"Sorry it took me a while to get back, traffic was a nightmare."
Your husband hums and pulls you so you sit in his lap. You want to protest that you're all sweaty and gross, but you bite your tongue, knowing he needs to have this moment with you.
"It was a really good concert, Yoon. Army and non-Army really enjoyed it." You tuck his hair behind his ear. You have always declared his undercut era is the sexiest, but this long hair is definitely moving up to take over that title.
He chuckles in response, so you continue. "That Run BTS performance really did us in. Everyone went wild. I'm sure our daughter will be bothering Hobi in no time to teach her the choreo."
You feel his shoulder shake from the little laughter he lets out.
"And, UGH! and Cypher Pt 3 was out of this world. When Joon just went off with his line, you have no idea how electrifying it was."
You feel his arms wrapping tighter around your waist. "Everything will be okay, Yoon." You kiss the top of his head.
"I know," he finally speaks, his voice hoarse no doubt from the concert. "But still, I wonder."
You gently cup his face. "They won't go anywhere. They'll stay, you know that."
"I know, I know," he sighs into your neck. "but, you know how the thought is there, and I just... post-concert depression, I guess."
You run your fingers through his hair, silently encouraging him to continue.
"It felt so good to be on stage again, and fuck, Cypher Pt 3? Felt so fucking good to do it tonight. Then it hit me that it's going to be a while till we can go back doing all that. It's just a weird feeling..." he swirls his whiskey. "Do you think they know?"
"Well," you answer carefully, "your ending moments were a bit of a giveaway, but I think Army right now are just basking in the pride that you all performed so well and so beautifully."
Yoongi tuts. "So diplomatic."
You both chuckle softly and let silence take over while the Busan night skyline flickers and glimmers before you.
"They've always trusted you, and you asked them tonight to trust you again."
Your husband nods.
"So you should trust them too."
A gummy smile slowly makes its way on his face. "Yeah," he says softly, taking a deep breath and snuggling further against you.
"Yoon, I need to shower."
His hold around you tightens. "Later."
"I'm gross."
"I don't care," he insists. "Just sit here a bit longer."
You smile fondly at his request.
"Everything is going to be okay," you assure him.
"Yeah, everything is going to be okay."
They're my best friends for the rest of my life.
Thank you so much for reading! Did you enjoy it? If so, please reblog! Reblogging will help my fic reach a wider audience.
Published on 25102022. Crossposted to my ao3.
#bts fluff#bts fanfic#yoongi fic#yoongi fluff#domestic yoongi#dad yoongi#bts series#thank you bts#afbf#thebtswritersclub#bangtanwritershq#btscreatorscorner
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33 | Legends of Darlaria
⨰ summary: You wake up in yet another unfamiliar place. This time, however, these strangers seem to recognize you. With your previous judgments and aspirations thrown out the window, you're now forced to face where your loyalties really lie. Who will you betray? And which General will you choose to stand by his side?
⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15
⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au
⨰ warnings: profanity, depictions of violence
⨰ wordcount: 6.9k
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⧖⧗Many, Many Circas Ago⧗⧖
That night, Instructor Shin came to you in your dreams—quite vividly too, for your dream worlds have always been picturesque.
She was staring at you with her sharp eyes, but her gaze was strangely gentle. It felt so real—especially as she held her black pointer bedazzled with her emerald birthstone, which twinkled in white light. May you one day change Darlae for the better, she whispered, her ruby-red lips moving just enough to enunciate her words.
You tossed and turned in your sleep.
She smiled at you—it was one of her rare smiles that brought slight wrinkles upon her face, but it made her look incredibly kind. And may you one day still remember me, your strict, old, incompetent instructor, who nearly stopped you from achieving greatness in the Darlaean Army.
When you woke up at the break of dawn, there were dried tear streaks on your face and a new fire burning inside of you. You’d forgotten your dream for a moment—amongst all of the fuss with the rankings and the training and the duels. Your life had picked up its pace and while living in survival mode, you’d simply unremembered what made you join the Darlaean Army in the first place. But Instructor Shin’s words reignited what you lost.
She believed in you and so did Hajin, her father, and even General Son, who was willing to give you a second chance. So how could you so easily give up on your dream? How silly of you to simply let go of all the efforts you’ve put into your training! General Son was right; there was no place for cowardliness in his army. Heroes got nowhere from fear!
But perhaps you could compromise. Sometimes, fear drove people to do great things; you couldn’t exactly think of any examples, but maybe you could be the first instance. Maybe you could leverage your fears—your fear of hurting others, your fear of getting hurt yourself, your fear of dying unaccomplished, your fear of losing the life you’d built for yourself in the 12th city—to drive yourself to stay in General Son’s army.
You gritted your teeth. You had exactly three days to pull yourself together and rise from the deep end, so you decided to put yourself through hell to prepare.
The only problem was, fear was a damn hard thing to shake off.
“Okay, okay, that was good, Y/N,” Hajin said, nodding her head as you masked a flower petal into a pebble and threw it hard at the wooden dummy before you. “But it was a pebble, Y/N. No one in their right damn mind would surrender to a tiny piece of rock.” She hummed, circling around you in the small practice arena. “It was an improvement, though.” She sighed. “Try to think bigger. Think, what is a showstopper?”
You nervously tugged at your necklace. The dirt arena was littered with harmless objects that were standard when it came to these duels. Cadets were expected to use alchemy to create non-lethal weapons to force their opponents to surrender. But to you, the term non-lethal truly meant something that couldn’t harm anyone. “I’m sorry,” you sighed, wiping the sweat off your brow. “It’s just… if I turned that pebble any bigger… I mean, what if I accidentally give my opponent a concussion?”
Hajin snorted. “It happens. They shouldn’t take it personally. And if they do, it’s on them. You’re dueling! Something like that is expected to happen! Look, I gave someone a black eye last week, but they healed it in several days! So don’t worry too much about hurting someone.”
You bit your lip. It was much easier said than done. You wished with all your heart that you could stop giving a shit about hurting your opponent, but there was always a degree of unpredictability in these duels—you never knew what arbitrary objects would be placed in the arena and you never knew who your opponent was until the duel began. What if something happened and you seriously injured them? What if something happened and you were seriously injured? It was such a selfish thought to have, and you hated yourself for it.
The truth was, there were soldiers out there, sacrificing their lives for Darlae and here you were, unable to participate properly in a small duel. On the battlefield, no arbitrary objects were littered on the ground for Darlaean soldiers’ ease of use. On the battlefield, Darlaean soldiers survived on pure instinct and adrenaline—at least that was what was rumored amongst your squadron, for no cadet truly knew what a soldier went through when they marched to battle. On the battlefield, it was kill or be killed.
But this wasn’t the battlefield, thank Guseul, it was a damn little arena. You weren’t expected to kill anyone, and now that you thought about it, your primary goal technically wasn’t to injure. In fact, your real goal was to make your opponent surrender.
“Look,” Hajin said, breaking you out of your thoughts, “you need to win this damn duel because I’m not letting my best friend leave me. So, you’re going to take this very, very seriously, all right? It’s just like when you taught me alchemy, Y/N. You told me to stay true to myself when I cast my whims. You let me continue to use light magic; you honed my strengths. You made me embrace them. So do the same!” She grinned. “What kind of alchemy are you best at? What can you use to make your opponent surrender? Surely, masking some rose petal into a pebble isn’t the best you’ve got. You’ve ranked first amongst 100 cadets before! You have it in you, Y/N!”
Hajin’s words of encouragement made you feel a little better.
“You’re the masking master!” Hajin cheered you on. “You can mask everything into anything!!!”
That wasn’t exactly true as of yet, but you were trying to get there anyway.
You smiled, a new idea suddenly materializing in your head. “Thanks, Hajin. You’re the best.”
She grinned. “Now get to work, cadet! Time’s ticking!”
The sunlight was too bright. The dirt was too loose. And there were one too many spectators. You could feel their gazes, boring into your back, and in that moment, you felt so small, so tiny, so insignificant. Your hands were shaking, and you hoped no one was observant enough to notice.
“YOU CAN DO IT, Y/N!” Hajin yelled from the crowd. You couldn’t find the energy to smile, but her words did ease off a little bit of the tension. Still, your heart felt like it was in your guts, and you could barely see past arm’s length.
You clutched your trinket, trying to feel the magic course through your veins and calm your nerves. While taking deep breaths, you carefully surveyed the objects scattered around in today’s arena. There were cotton balls, a few towels, a roll of gauze, an apricot seed, a mug from the dining hall, and what looked to be someone’s lost sock to name a few. You looked away from these objects, not even bothering to study them at all.
Instead, you looked ahead to study your opponent, who was all the way on the other side of the arena. Unlike you, she didn’t seem too nervous at all, which made sense since rumor had caught on that you automatically surrendered every duel you were put into. For a second, you felt a little guilty that that wouldn’t be the case today—that was, if you were able to pull off what you spent countless hours practicing. Your opponent—Eunhae was her name—began studying the objects on the ground, which made you sweat just a little more. She was ranked fairly high—somewhere amongst the top 20 cadets—so you knew she wouldn’t surrender so easily. You could practically see her already calculating what to shift and what to mask.
Nervously, you looked to the stands, glancing momentarily at General Son. He rarely came to these duels—his officers were the ones who usually supervised them—but he was undoubtedly here for you today. Even worse, the man was staring straight at you, your eyes making contact with his sharp ones. You jumped a little and looked away.
For a split second, you wondered if this was all a good idea.
But there was no time to second guess yourself.
A vivid purple streak shot up in the bright noon sky, courtesy of one of the judging officers.
The duel had officially begun.
Your ears began to ring.
Eunhae charged at you, her long, brown hair flying behind her. She had her teeth gritted, her fists clenched.
But everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.
You watched as Eunhae laggardly crouched down, carefully picked up the mug from the dining hall, then gradually size-shifted it, where it became the size of her head. Your eyes widened slowly as she sluggishly heaved the giant mug at you with all of her might.
Your breath hitched.
Then all at once, everything was moving too fast.
Every bone, muscle, nerve in your body screamed at you to surrender, to make it stop, to feel that sweet sense of relief and comfort that you were going to be safe. Instead, somehow, somewhere, something in you made you jerk away, and just in the nick of time, you managed to dodge the attack as the mug crashed into the arena’s walls behind you.
There was an ear-splitting crack!
You felt like you were going to throw up.
Eunhae picked up one of the gauzes.
You were stumbling away, attempting to avoid being cornered, but your feet felt so heavy; were you imagining it, or were your black leather boots sinking into the dirt? When you looked up from your daze, you saw an arrow—where the spearhead was the harmless white gauze—spiraling straight at you.
You frowned.
Eunhae cursed under her breath.
Failed masking happened rather often during duels when the stress levels were high. You let the gauze-arrow hit you on the arm, trying not to expend energy unnecessarily. While trembling, you rubbed the impact area with your hand, not because it hurt, but as if to calm your nerves. It wasn’t exactly working.
Somehow, you were already panting. The breathing echoed in your ears in slow, loud huffs. A single drop of sweat rolled down your face, over the hill of your cheeks and down the slope of your chin.
It felt like you were running out of time.
Any minute now, after she recovered from the shock of her failed masking, Eunhae was bound to attack again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep up—stamina wasn’t your greatest strength, but it was definitely hers.
Your trembling hand reached up to clench the pendant of your necklace.
Immediately, just a tiny bit of courage flooded back into you.
Right.
The plan.
The plan that you weren’t so sure was allowed.
But you didn’t exactly have many options now that you were already here.
Focus, now…
Deep breaths in, deep breaths out…
And soon, the world fell silent, save for the loud beating of your heart.
The only thing in your vision now was Eunhae, running towards you in slow motion once more. Her face was contorted, and there was sweat beading on her forehead. She was already holding a new object—ready to attack you with it—but that didn’t matter to you at the moment. She was so close to you now that you could see the splash of freckles across her nose. Her lips were parted, and her dark eyes seemed to see no one but you.
But more importantly, she wore the standard cadet uniform—the black, stiff cotton material, the silver and purple stitchings, the shiny leather boots. It was identical to yours and that of the 70 other cadets left in the program. It was the uniform you saw every day, the uniform you hand-washed, the uniform you folded, ironed, and donned each morning. You spent more time in your uniform than not; thus, you knew every stitch, every crease, every stretch of the fabric like it was on the back of your hand. You could recreate the uniform from memory if you wanted to—even with brand-new material: velvet, corduroy, wool… It wouldn’t be so challenging, considering how well-versed you were in designing apparel.
Perhaps you could even recreate it with more untraditional fabrics like chenille, taffeta, or brocade.
Or what about with outrageous material like rubber? Wood? Perhaps stone?
Yes, stone—that was perfect! You could practically feel the cool, hard sleeves, the stiff body of the uniform, the heavy boots… The smoothness, the dark gray color, the sheer heaviness… Yes, that charcoal color would suit Eunhae quite nicely—possibly bringing out her freckles. Gone would be the cotton and the silver purple stitchings, and gone would be the leather on the boots, too. Everything would be stone.
Dense, immovable stone.
Somewhere along your vivid train of thought, you must’ve closed your eyes—it happened often when you were attempting to mask something big. There was that familiar migraine seeping in, too. When your eyes finally fluttered open, relieving yourself from the darkness, you came nearly face to face with Eunhae. Her eyebrows were deeply furrowed, and her teeth were gritted in concentration. Her forehead was now wet with perspiration. And her eyes, they were screaming with what looked like anger.
You let out a tiny squeak, your whole body tensing up as you squeezed your eyes shut again—too afraid to face your impending doom. You waited for the blow to come, to feel some sort of pain in your side, but when nothing happened after several seconds, you slowly opened one eye, then the other.
Less than an arm’s length away from you, Eunhae was wobbling from side to side, on the verge of losing her balance. She grunted, her face completely red as she struggled with the new weight of her uniform. The sweat from her forehead began rolling down her face.
Your lips parted in shock.
“Y-You!” Eunhae stuttered, trying to move forward, but when that proved to be futile, she tried another tactic. With all of her might, and with a mighty scream, she swung her arm at you. You flinched on instinct, but her arm fell limp before ever reaching you from being encompassed in a stone sleeve. Eunhae was struggling to keep her arm up—she was trembling from head to toe—and she was successful for perhaps half a minute before her whole body collapsed onto the ground.
With a loud groan, she heaved her body forward, straining her muscles in an attempt to move, but she could barely keep her head lifted from the ground. Her face was growing near purple now as her stone uniform kept her pinned to the ground. Sweat continued to roll off of her body, streaking the gray stone with a darker charcoal color.
You watched her struggle, which felt so incredibly wrong, but there was nothing else you could do. You would lose everything if you lost—you had to make sure you walked away victorious. So you stood your ground before the poor girl, staring down, shaking in your uniform boots.
Sweat rolled down your neck, disappearing underneath your cotton uniform. The masking had to hold until Eunhae surrendered. It was all you needed to win. You couldn’t bear looking her in the eyes, so you closed your own, your fists clenched at your sides.
“You can’t keep me like this forever!” Eunhae shouted, but she sounded desperate.
For a second, you feared that she would somehow be able to unmask her uniform material back into cotton, but the logical part of you countered that with a simple fact: Eunhae was an expert at size-shifting, not so much masking. But, if she just so happened to be angry enough to unleash powerful light magic, that would also be a different story.
Nervously, you cracked open one eye, wondering if this was even enough to stop a cadet like Eunhae. There was unbridled rage in her eyes as she lay on the ground, unable to move. But the longer you stared at her, the look gradually morphed into one of capitulation.
Finally, Eunhae let out a long, labored sigh. “I’ll give you this one, then.” She was completely limp. “You win. I surrender. Now get me out of this thing!”
You collapsed to the ground in shock, and it was your loss of concentration—not quite exactly her request—that unmasked Eunhae’s uniform. As the stone eroded away and the familiar cotton material faded into existence, you stared at the dirt, unblinking. Grumbling, Eunhae sat up, stretching her limbs and brushing herself off while looking quite disdained at her loss.
There was an eerie silence.
Normally, there would be clapping by now.
Now you were shaking, though you didn’t know why, and suddenly, it felt like you were the one donning the stone uniform. You could hear your breathing echoing in your head, and your legs refused to listen to you anymore. It was as if all of the energy in your body had been zapped away.
Were you allowed to do this? Was masking your opponent’s uniform on the grounds for disqualification? Is that why everybody was so silent?
But then, you heard a joyous cry from the audience.
“YOU DID IT, Y/N, YOU WON!”
It was Hajin—bless her—and in no time, others followed the princess’ lead. Your victory was welcomed with a roar of applause. The world began spinning. You were still shaking, but when you turned slightly to the side, you saw General Son, standing up with the rest of the audience, clapping for you. He wasn’t smiling, because he never smiled, but he was nodding in approval, and that was all you needed for all of your worries to wash away.
You were safe.
You could stay here.
Who knew that the Fashion Studies class you took years ago would be so useful in the army? From your first victorious duel, you learned that you didn’t have to resort to violence if you didn’t want to. There were definitely officers who didn’t approve of that notion, but they couldn’t do anything about it since General Son never found it wrong, though he did later admit it was unorthodox.
Still, he confirmed that you were no longer on probation, and with the momentum of your first victory, you went on to win a majority of the rest of your duels. As a year flew past, your ranking gradually, gradually increased until one day, your name was next to that shiny, silver number 1 once more. But you never really gave two shits about the rankings. In your mind, this was all for a bigger cause—the cause of one day changing Darlae for the better. The change that Instructor Shin believed you could make.
But you did have to admit, though a bit begrudgingly, that it always felt good when your opponent would take one look at you from across the arena and surrender right away. You didn’t let those instances get to your head, though; you worked hard, just like everybody else. If it just so happened that your masking skills were more advanced and your hexes were mostly successful, then that was that. There was no need to make a big deal out of it. But Hajin always liked to, anyways.
She was your biggest supporter, attending every one of your duels and cheering you on the whole time. As more circas passed, she grew into her light magic, and though she still occasionally cast an unpredictable whim, she was a much stronger alchemist than before. Her father was proud of her as any father would be, but he was just as proud of you, who he practically took under his wing as his second daughter.
And then there was General Son. He was always watching you with those sharp eyes of his, not saying much in both words and expression. But you knew he had a lot of thoughts—whether they were good thoughts or bad thoughts, you were never too sure. Still, he seemed satisfied with your performance in his army, and you liked to imagine that he looked mildly pleased every time you saluted him when he walked past.
Just like that, your life as a cadet in the Darlaean Army became routine once more, with the occasional ups and downs, but nothing life-changing. And before you knew it, you were already 17.
Hajin slumped over her bed in a deep pout. “I can’t believe he’s making us wait another two years, Y/N. Two! I swear on Guseul’s heart that I’m going to die waiting for the day we can finally go to battle!”
“Your father’s just trying to protect you,” you said, patting Hajin’s shoulder. “You’re his only daughter. Also his last living family member.”
Hajin let out a loud sigh. “Everyone else in our cohort has already been moved to the 1st city!” She groaned, hiding her face in her silk pillowcase. “We’ll be the oldest ones in the new cohort! It’s going to be so embarrassing!” She suddenly sat up, turning to face you. “This isn’t fair! We were ranked in the top ten!”
“I know, I know,” you said, patting Hajin’s back. “It sucks, but I mean, we’ll be able to explore the tunnels for two more years, isn’t that the good part? Why do you want to go to battle so much, anyways?” You didn’t mean to sound so exasperated when you asked the latter question because you knew full well what Hajin was going to say. But before you could open your mouth to apologize, Hajin was already speaking.
“I just need to avenge my mother’s death!” she announced valiantly as predicted. She sighed, looking out the window, where the dim moonlight filtered in. “That’s all I want. I just need to be out there and fight the same bastards who killed her.” Her voice grew quiet, which happened quite rarely and only when she was dead serious, which was also a rarity. “You didn’t have to stay with me, you know, stuck in this damn training program. You finished first in our cohort; you should’ve graduated and marched on to the 1st city.”
The truth was, Hoseok had invited you to another private chat in which he’d given you a few options. One of them was, of course, graduating from the training program for adolescents and moving on to becoming a true soldier who would march to battle. But the other choice, the one that Hoseok wanted you to choose, was to stay in the 12th city with his daughter before he finally deemed her ready to leave the royal nest.
“She still casts unpredictable whims from time to time,” was his biggest worry. “She must be absolutely formidable before I let her on that battlefield.” You knew it would break Hajin’s heart if she found out her father withheld her from graduating due to her erratic alchemy skills—when those who were far worse than she had already graduated—so you never mentioned it to her. The plan, if you stayed, would be to help train Hajin’s light magic skills until her alchemy was sound, and that would all be under the guise of her father’s protectiveness over his only daughter, which was also true.
“But I don’t want to hold you back either, my dear. I don’t want to withhold such a promising soldier from my nation; General Son tells me he sees the future in you. But ultimately, my dear, the choice is yours.”
And you’d chosen to stay. Mostly because the prospect of going to battle terrified you, though you never admitted that to anyone—not even Hajin. It was too humiliating. But another part of you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Hajin, of leaving her father, of leaving the secret tunnels, too. It would be like entering a new chapter of your life, which wasn’t always the worst thing that could happen. But you simply didn’t feel ready. What good was an unprepared hero, anyway?
You sighed, staring outside at the moon along with Hajin. “Well, I wasn’t going to leave you here. And besides,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips, “we can eat all the deviled eggs we want for two more years. Isn’t that paradise?”
Hajin didn’t laugh at your joke; she was too lost in her thoughts, which was something that you usually did and not the other way around. Then, she spoke in a quiet murmur: “Y/N, why do you want to fight in the war?”
Your eyes widened. “Oh, I mean, um… it’s…” You sighed, not having expected Hajin to ask such a question. “It’s going to sound silly.”
Hajin finally turned to you, and it looked like she was finally back to her old self because she was grinning madly. “Try me,” she snorted. “How silly can it really be?”
“Well…” You hesitated. “Okay, fine. Ever since I was little, I’ve always wanted to be some sort of hero. I guess I just read too many fairytales, but that’s beside the point. I want to accomplish something big, you know? Make a difference. I dunno. How cool would it be if I could contribute even just a little bit to Darlae’s freedom from the war?” You tugged on your necklace. “It’s stupid, I know. Your reason is much cooler—”
“No way!” Hajin’s eyes widened. “Your reason is so… mature. It’s high level, you know? Above seeking vengeance and all that crap. Oh, Y/N,” she laughed. “You could definitely do it. You’ve already made a difference in my life! I just know you’re going to do something great. Oh, I know! You’ll become an officer—I don’t need to be a divinist to know that!”
You laughed along with her. “Aw, thanks, Hajin. I wouldn’t say it’s a mature reason—I mean, I’m 17 and I’m still dreaming of heroes. But thanks. Really. That was kind of you to say.” You nudged her playfully. “You’re more officer material than I am. You’ve got the energy and charisma. You’re a people magnet!”
Hajin beamed. “You really think so?” She plopped back down on her bed, rolling her eyes. “Tell that to my father, will you? Then maybe he’ll let us go to war.”
You laughed, plopping down on the bed right next to your best friend. “I don’t think he’ll budge.”
“Bummer,” Hajin sighed. “Whatever.” Then, she turned to her side, grinning at you mischievously. “Wanna have a late-night deviled egg party?”
You would be crazy to resist.
Even though you and Hajin weren’t technically allowed in the 1st city as both of you were still cadets in the training program, that never stopped the two of you from simply using the secret tunnels to infiltrate the 1st city’s sewers. But all there was to see in the 1st city was soldiers training. Though you found it fascinating, Hajin found it boring.
“What’s so fun about watching a bunch of soldiers train?” Hajin sighed. “We see that in the training grounds all the time.”
“No, but they train so differently,” you answered, your voice tinged with excitement. “Look! They don’t do the stupid duels at all. They’re focusing on masking scraps of junk into weapons! See how that soldier just masked that blade of grass into a dagger? See how it pierced through the wooden block without unmasking itself? Amazing,” you breathed. “That’s not easy to do.”
“I’d rather watch a duel. They’re more exciting,” Hajin snorted. “Come on, let’s get back to the 12th city before anyone finds out we left.”
“W-Wait!” you said, eyes widening. “Look! We can’t miss this—they’re practicing formations! See how impenetrable it looks? It’s a formation meant for defense! And see how perfectly identical every soldier’s stance is? That must take hours and hours of practice!”
Hajin just laughed. “Only you could be so excited by army formations,” she teased.
But it wasn’t just you.
General Son also had a penchant for formations, which he made obvious to you after he caught you and Hajin snooping around the 1st city. He wasn’t angry, only stern, but when he found out that you had been drawing out his army’s formations and studying them on your own, he invited you to his study in the 12th city to “discuss”—though what about, you weren’t quite sure. But the invitation, of course, only came after you and Hajin ran a couple of laps around the training grounds for breaking regulations—it was only a formality.
The discussion ended up being hours long and was more like a lecture than anything else. The General asked you to explain what you had gleaned from snooping around the 1st city and observing the different formations, and though you were nervous, you were able to explain each one and the purpose you believed it had. He had no discernible expression on his face when you finished, but you must’ve done something right because he began to spread out a few of his own battle plans, which were a work in progress.
“See this, cadet?” he asked, running his fingers through the five obvious sectors drawn into the paper in black ink. “This is the battlefield. Memorize it by next time,” he said. “A good soldier must know the terrain she fights on.”
The mention of a next time filled you full of excitement, and you spent the following several days thinking about nothing but the battlefield. You woke up in the morning and stared at the copy of it that the General had given you. During your training—which was now too easy for you—you tried to draw it from memory in your mind. And at night, you dreamed of it—the five sectors, the soil, the hard dirt, and the soldiers charging through it.
General Son didn’t show much of a reaction when you completely redrew the battlefield from memory during your next “discussion.” But the more time you spent under his guidance, you realized that he had particular ways of showing his praise. When he deemed you ready, he simply moved on to the next thing he wanted you to learn. He pushed you harder than any other person in your life—nearly rivaling your own spirit—always sending you back from his study with a stack of books to read for the next discussion, along with formations to review and comment on. You spent your days training—though you always finished early—and your nights studying battle plans and formations.
Hajin found it tedious.
“You look like you’re having fun,” she snorted, staring at you hunched over, studying your books in the moonlight streaming through her large window. She shuddered. “On second thought, I don’t think I could ever become an officer. I can’t handle the logistics! I would never want to spend my free time studying battle plans and doing extra reading. But you’re fit for the job, Y/N. I think General Son thinks so too.”
You didn’t want to believe that at first. It seemed impossible to you that the General of the Darlaean Army could ever see someone like you as an officer. You weren’t even sure if you could handle it! What kind of officer was afraid of going to battle? What good was knowing the battlefield like the back of your hand if you were too afraid to fight?
Despite your doubts, the General believed in you—at least it seemed like he did. He began granting you special access to the 1st city to observe the soldiers’ training. He also invited Hajin as a formality, for she was also a well-respected cadet yet to graduate from the training program, but she declined. “I’d rather give up a week’s worth of deviled eggs than go sit and watch soldiers train for what feels like an eternity!” she told you quite vehemently.
So, by yourself, you diligently traveled to the 1st city once a week to study the applications of the formations you’ve read about and to learn about the different charms that the soldiers used. Most of these charms were cast as whims because in a battle, where anger and passion drenched the air, light magic became much more powerful. It was still difficult for you to get rid of that scholarly instinct of using dark magic, and since the General never commented on your tendency for casting hexes, you continued to use the magic that brought comfort to you.
Sometimes, you wondered what the General saw in you to privately teach you the ways of battle planning. You often wondered if you deserved the treatment. Hajin was aware of your self-doubting tendencies, and she was always kind enough to point out that you were, indeed, a talented cadet, and you have been, for circas now, ranked first on the board—that the newer cadets feared dueling with you because you never lost.
But you weren’t as charismatic as the majors, captains, sergeants and privates you observed in the 1st city. And you sure as hell would never be as charismatic as the General. There was something about him that elicited fear and respect. He never had to raise his voice; just one look from him and he could have even the strongest soldiers cowering. He was brutal out on the battlefield, you’ve heard. Perhaps actions spoke louder than words.
Of course you knew not to compare yourself to the damn General of the Darlaean Army, but self-doubt was in your nature. Still, your fear of disappointing the General was somehow greater than your self-doubting tendencies. You continued to make an effort in your private discussions and visited the 1st city with a fiery passion in your eyes, ready to commit everything you saw into memory.
And slowly, as you began to catch up to his expectations, General Son became just slightly amiable. He no longer watched you with his sharp, discerning eyes, and he gave you short, laconic compliments when you deserved them. You had the feeling that he was warming up to you. Perhaps he wasn’t sure if he could trust you before, especially with the stunt you pulled when you had refused to participate in duels.
He asked you quite often about Hajin and her progress with her light magic, which you suspected Hoseok put him up to. It was no secret that General Son and Hoseok were quite close. You’ve heard them call each other by their first names, which was shocking considering one was the king and the other was the general of the nation. You don’t think you’ve ever heard anybody else refer to General Son as Taegi except Hoseok.
Though General Son didn’t exactly show you the same kind of warmth that Hoseok did, he showed you generosity and patience. The discussions no longer felt like lectures; they were truly discussions—an exchange of ideas and feedback. Sometimes, General Son invited over a few of his majors to participate, which made you incredibly nervous, but every time self-doubt sank in, you reminded yourself of Instructor Shin’s words: may you one day change Darlae for the better. You were going to do it—someday in the future. This was simply your journey of mentorship and preparation.
It became increasingly clear that General Son trusted your opinions, and you naturally trusted him, for he commanded the entire army with a steady hand. Gradually, things fell into a routine again. You still had your moments of diffidence, of course, but that was part of the routine, too. And soon, before you knew it, seasons passed until the leaves of the trees reddened and the weather became chillier.
You would never forget this particular day in Circa Opal. The day that altered the routine of your life.
You were walking back to the castle from a long discussion with General Son. In your uniform pocket was the smaller, size-shifted stack of books he’d assigned you to read and the shrunken scrolls he wanted you to annotate. The air was brisk and the sun was setting, which were all the more reasons for you to quicken your pace as you promised to meet Hajin for another one of your secret tunnel exploring rounds, which had become rare with your busy schedule. The plan was to explore Hajin’s favorite: the 6th city. She was undoubtedly already waiting for you, wearing her purple pantaloons that you’d gifted her two years ago—her “exploring pants” as she called them. You could just imagine her pacing around her room impatiently, wondering “Where the hell is she???”
You smiled to yourself, practically running now to get to the castle faster. The red leaves made a satisfying crunch underneath your feet as you sprinted. But in your haste, you bumped into someone nearby and the force of the collision caused both of you to fall to the ground.
You felt a dull impact on your behind and winced, but you’ve been through worse during training. Luckily, your miniature textbook and scrolls didn’t fall out of your pocket, which was a better outcome than what you would’ve hoped. But the stranger—the boy—whom you’d bumped into wasn’t so fortunate. He’d been carrying a large bag of what seemed to be filled with all sorts of equipment, which dropped to the ground from the impact and landed with a raucous crash! At the same time, a twinkling blue stone slipped from his pocket and landed on top of a few fallen leaves on the grass.
“O-Oh! I’m so, so sorry,” you said, quickly scrambling to pick up the sapphire from the ground and wiping it clean from the dried leaf debris. “I wasn’t looking where I was going! Here, you dropped your birthst—”
Your breath hitched as your eyes met his. The rest of your words became lost in your throat.
He was beautiful.
As the two of you slowly stood up together, you couldn’t help but notice his big, doe eyes, perfect nose, gently tousled hair, delicate, pinkish lips… The warm glow of the setting sun backlit his face, softening his features, and the mild autumn breeze mussed his raven-colored hair, where strands of it fell over his dark brown eyes.
Time slowed down as he reached out to take his birthstone from you. And when his hands brushed yours, there was a shy spark that ignited in your chest. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him in shock.
His own tender eyes met yours, and he blinked slowly, his lashes long enough to kiss his face. It was as if you were in a trance.
“Thank you,” he whispered. His voice was quiet, silvery, perfect as you would expect from someone like him.
Your lips parted as you readied yourself to respond, but no words fell from your lips.
Who was he? Why haven’t you seen him before?
He surely wasn’t a soldier, for he wasn’t wearing the uniform, which meant he most likely worked for the royal family or perhaps even for the army. He looked too kind to be a soldier, anyway.
A soft splash of rosy pink emerged on his cheeks as the two of you continued to peer into each other’s eyes. His hands began fidgeting with his birthstone. “You…” he said, face brightening in recognition. “You…” he whispered again, eyes softening.
Did he know you?
You surely didn’t know him; you would’ve remembered if you did.
“You…?” you barely managed to get out when the boy suddenly picked up the bag he dropped from the ground and began stepping backwards, though slowly.
You wanted to tell him to wait, to at least ask for his name, but how could you? He was already walking away from you. Maybe something about this encounter terrified him. It was rather odd. He was a complete stranger, but he strangely felt like comfort. There was this foreign tug on your heartstrings—a fleeting feeling that maybe you will get to know him in the near future. Did he feel this too? Was that why he left?
You couldn’t help but watch him walk away, your head tilting as you stared at his back. It was stupid to think such a short encounter could blossom into something more. But…
No. Nothing was going to happen. This fate-like encounter was nothing more than a figment of your imagination—perhaps it was acting up after all of those tales of romance you read when you were young. Perhaps the boy left because there was nothing to stay for. With a sigh, you turned around and began walking away, towards the grand castle and to Hajin, who was undoubtedly waiting for your arrival.
But unbeknownst to you, soon after you turned around, the boy stopped in his footsteps to watch you leave. He had a bright look in his eyes, a look of mostly curiosity, really, but there was another thing. A look of longing. It was gone in a second, however, when he finally blinked. Then, he began walking away too, as if the encounter had never happened at all in the early days of Circa Opal.
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⨰ a/n: sorry for the short delay! had to attempt to proofread :') but hehe we finally get to meet jk!!!
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#jungkook fanfic#yoongi fanfic#yoongi angst#bts fanfiction#thebtswritersclub#btscreatorscorner#btsgoldnet#btshoneyhive#bangtaninn#houseofddaeng#bts fic#bts fanfic#yoongi x reader#jungkook x reader#bts angst#magic au#war au#bts series#bts fics#legends of darlaria#lod
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