#i will miss you but you will live on in my thoughts and my oc's story arc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kissforyouu · 2 months

Text

ribbons & affection ♡

pairing : jungkook x sanrio girl!oc

genre : fluff , smut

warnings : RIBBONS!!! 🎀 , sexual content : jk is tied up , p in v , breast play , switch!reader , switch!jk , tit fucking , guided masterbation , creampie , nudes

a/n : this was inspired by this video!! AND HAPPY LATE VALENTINES DAY😭😭!! btw i made like a whole text au but forgot tumblr had a limited number for pics so i couldn't include it in ughh😫😫

not proofread.

"hi."

jungkook stares at you from your door, across the living room. he was dressed in black from head to toe, as usual. big puffer jacket, baggy pants and a tank top with a few of his rings on. his body was leaned against the doorframe as he waited for your response.

"you're here!" you squeel, excited to see your boyfriend. especially after your...little argument yesterday. it was childish, really. jungkook was a massive tease. he would tease you about quite literally everything. and maybe yesterday he took it a little too far by making a comment about his exes. multiple exes to say the least :). obviously, you got fucking mad. he was talking about how he never really felt anything real for any of them, except maybe one. obviously that made you feel a bit insecure. what if he feels the same towards you as well? and he's just playing you?

no, he wouldn't do all of this if he was. you're sure. you're very sure! right? he's your jungkookie.

brushing away all those thoughts away, you skip your way towards your boyfriend, only stopping a foot away from him. you look up at your man, arms behind your back with a small smile that's threatening to widen.

jungkook's lips press thinly against eachother as if he's going to say something, but he stops and drops whatever he was holding. next thing, his arms immediately wrap around your body, pulling you to his chest. like this, jungkook wraps his entire body around yours. your nose nuzzled deep in his neck with his arms securely wrapped around you, one around your waist and the other around your back.

your boyfriend bear hugs you for about a minute, gently rocking your body sideways. god, this feels nice. the moment he wrapped his arms around you, it was like everything was fine again. there was some obvious tension still, until the moment before he hugged you like this. your body was relaxed, almost lifelessly laying in his arms.

slowly, you place your palms on his back, hugging him back. jungkook hums in satisfaction, the tip of his tongue in your hair.

"my sweet girl." his embrace felt so warm and safe. you never want to let go.

"i missed you so much." he mumbles into your hair. just as you were about to slowly pull away, he pulls back into his embrace by grabbing your wrists. "let me hold you." he kisses the top of your head.

there is a familiar warm feeling spreading around your stomach. jungkook! >.<!

you just let the man embrace you in silence, squeezing your body over and over again until he feels completely comfortable and fit.

about a minute pass by, so you decided to break the silence.

"you missed me that much?"

"the fuck i look like to you? of course, i did." jungkook pinches the skin on your waist, making you squeak. his hand shifts places to under your butt, lifting your body up effortlessly next. he adjusts you in his hold, both hands under your butt to hold you up. jungkook sighs, comforted, as he walks into your house.

"my stuff!" you whine, hand reaching towards your bag full of goodies on the floor.

"is that all you care about?" the man holding you grunts.

"yup! duh." you pinch his ear.

"we should break up then—"

"no. you're not funny, kook." jungkook snickers in return, hand patting your back. he sits on your couch, pulling you closer to his body. gosh, if he could, he'd dig inside his body to have you rest under his skin. he wants to be as close to you as possible.

"y/n, oh my god." jungkook takes a deep breath, thumb caressing the dimple on your cheek as you smile. "yeah?", "baby, i love you so much." he hugs you again, practically squeezing you. you just giggle, cheeks heating up. "oh my god, you're so cute, jungkook!" you coo, hand gently petting his head.

"i'm not cute." his voice comes out muffled. "yes, you are!" "no, don't call me that." jungkook huffs, groaning into your neck. "the way you said that made you even cuter." you giggle. you pull him out of your embrace stand up on his thighs, both hands holding his face up.

"look at you! your head is like a circle!" there you go again.

"oh fuck, baby. give it a rest." jungkook's back is slouched against the back as he watched you fondle his cheeks. "smileee!" jungkook shakes his head in disagreement. you frown, lightly slapping your boyfriend's cheeks. you boyfriend couldn't help but grin a little, the corner of his lips twitching upwards but it quickly conceals it by puffing his cheeks.

"give me a biiig smile, baby." you pinch the tip of his ears. jungkook shakes his head again, clearly saying no. you begin by kissing the tip of his nose, then trailing more up his nose bridge, ending with a soft kiss on his forehead. your cheeks are already heated up as you caress your boyfriend's cheeks, kissing them afterwards. there's faint stains of lip gloss all over his face by now.

"smileeee!" jungkook looks away from you, trying to keep his smile from breaking out. but your charms were just too good. your boyfriend couldn't help but smile widely, followed by a giggle. ack! so cute!

quickly, you push your index fingers forward to poke his dimples. jungkook's laughter fills your ears as you continued to poke his dimples.

"did you bring the ribbons by the way?"

"wait—" pause. "you were being forreal?" jungkook squints his eyes, trying to read you.

"yeah?" you pout.

"i just—well, thought you were joking. one sec." jungkook signals you to move out of his lap before he walks towards the bag laying on the floor. he brings the bag to you, pulling out a roll of pink ribbon. he throws it at you and watches it bounce off your chest to your lap.

"now what?" your now curious boyfriend stares at you, waiting for you to do something.

"i'm going to fuck you!" god. such filthy words coming out of someone who looks so innocent.

you stare back at your boyfriend with your eyes wide, a cheeky smile adorning your lips. your fingers fondled with the lace of his sweatpants, sneaking its way upwards and under his tank top. the tips of your fingers make contact with his hard abs as they traced imaginary lines all over.

"little fucking minx." jungkook cusses out.

with a giggle, you sit up on the sofa, pulling down his sweats upto his mid thighs to expose his boxers, semi hard cock very much visible.

teasingly, you bend down to press a kiss to his clothed cock. jungkook's breath hitches, excited. but the excitement vanishes away the moment you pull away and let the sweatpants go back to its original spot.

"what?" "what?" you giggle at his visible confusion.

"weren't you gonna suck my dick?"

"ew! no!" you laugh, slapping jungkook's torso. you get back on your feet before kissing your boyfriend's cheek and skipping your way back to your bedroom. huh? were you gonna fuck him in your room then? before jungkook could even find out, he hears you locking your room.

"Y/N? you can't possibly lock me out of your room after doing that!" the helpless man shouts.

but the ding coming from his phone distracts him, especially your contact appearing right on top. you had sent him a message. now?

baby❤️ : take ur pants off and wait on the couch🤭 p.s. leave the boxers on :) AND CLOSE UR EYES PLS

what the fuck were you planning? er, jungkook didn't care. he was thrilled by this. all he wanted was to burry his cock deep in your cunt.

so far into your relationship, you've never really initiated things yourself. it's always been him suggesting things to try in bed. you've only brought up topics maybe once or twice. so this is definitely rare. it wasn't just you suggesting it, but you were acting on it right on the moment too. so correction: jungkook was far more than thrilled for this. the thought itself got his dick standing up proud and tall.

he made sure to listen to all your orders. your boyfriend was sitting on the couch in his boxers, legs wide spread and waiting for you. he was debating whether to take his shirt off or not. i mean, you didn't tell him to do so. but you also didn't tell him not to. uh. er. maybe—

"kook, are you ready?~" your sweet voice fills his ears, catching his attention and eyes directing towards your room.

"you want me to close my eyes?" jungkook's eyes shut after the loud yes you shout okay.

once you felt like you were ready with....this?!?! you slowly open the door, trying to not make a sound. you tip toe towards you impatient (and horny) boyfriend on the couch with a tight smile and immediately place your palm on his eyes, blinding his vision.

because of the sudden action, jungkook flinches, hands immediately landing on your thigh—more specifically, your garter.

you freeze, head lowered to see jungkook's finger hooking onto the garter. you watch his lips slowly turn upwards to a smirk, quickly picking on what's happening. his other hand joins the feast, gripping onto your other thigh, slowly sliding up your smooth skin and meeting your ass cheeks. his fingertips touch the thin fabric covering your cunt.

"ha!" jungkook laughs, body falling back against the sofa with a slap to your asscheek. "can i open my eyes now?"

you pout, eyebrows frowned in annoyance. whining, you talk, "ugh! i wanted to surprise you. why do you always have to find out everything?"

"doesn't matter. can i open them now? pleasepleasepleaseplease—" "okay."

jungkook's eyes immediately open, and the sight in front almost makes him faint. fucking hell. he didn't know where to look. your face? your tits? ass? uh, i don't know? fuck.

you were wearing a beautiful baby pink lace lingerie set. it was barely covering you, of course, but teased jungkook just the perfect amount. oh fuck. the lace was so thin and fit your body perfectly, decorating you as if you were some prop. the lace had little bows adorning it, along with small roses. his eyes were glued to tour beautiful round tits, secured within the flimsy material. but one thing caught his attention. fuck, he was rock hard. it was the beautiful J necklace he had gifted you a while earlier, sitting perfectly in between your pretty tits.

"shit, baby." jungkook touches the pendant, thumb swiping over the shiny letter. he traces the chain of the necklace upto your neck, giving you goosebumps along the way. jungkook's finger slides over your shoulder blade and down your arm before it lands back on your pendant. he grabs your left breast, squeezing it. he loved how your hard nipples were seen through the useless little material. couldn't help but swipe his thumb over the material a few times, making you let out a whimper here and there.

and the beauty doesn't even stop there.

jungkook's eyes travel downwards, met with your pretty pussy covered with nothing but the little lace fabric. and oh, oh shit— his eyes widen at the crotchless panties you were wearing. with little bows attached to both hipsters.

"dirty fucking girl." he laughs, hand gripping onto the flesh of your ass.

"you like it?" you tilt your head to the side with a small grin on your face.

"i love it, baby. gimme a twirl." jungkook pats your ass and motions you to do what he asked. you happily accept, taking a few steps back to give him the full view. you begin to twirl around slowly. jungkook enjoys the view with a small smile.

"so pretty, baby. dolled up all for me." he bites his lower lip. "uh huh." you nod.

"c'mere. lemme feel you, princess."

"nuh uh." you refuse, shaking your head from side to side.

"fuck it, what's it now?"

jungkook didn't know what to expect this time. he knew you were nervous about it, judging by your body language. you were standing awkwardly, hands pinned to your back while nibbling on your lower lip. what would make his baby so nervous? shit, maybe, you'll let him have your ass for the first time—

"press your hands to your back."

maybe not.

"no. wanna touch you." you knew this would happen.

"please? pleaasee?" you whine.

"no, sweetheart. not doing that. i need to feel you up." jungkook shakes his head.

"c'mon, kook. for me? pretty please?" you smile. you smile so beautifully that it almost makes jungkook drop down to his knees. fuck, was he down bad.

"yea, yea, fine." he grunts, hands pinned to his back now. you happily scoot over, grabbing the roll of ribbons and tying them around jungkook's wrists.

so that's what they were for? jungkook thinks.

when he thought you were finally done, he watches you bend downwards to tie two bows around his naked thighs. then you proceed to do the same to his biceps.

"i feel like a coquette porcelain doll."

"you are! my princess." you hold up his face by his chin, squeezing his cheeks again.

"i hope nobody ever finds out about this." jungkook groans.

nah. jungkook doesn't care. he didn't give a shit, to be honest. you were his girl. he'd put on anything you give him. hell, he'd walk around naked in the streets if you had asked him. with you, he became vulnerable. something he never was before. he'd put on the girliest princess dress and go out if you had asked. in fact, jungkook would rather be proud. to call you his girl of course :). "my girl made me wear this."

"don't worry, won't tell anyone." you kiss the tip of his nose as a reward. you gently push his back by his shoulders, making him rest against the sofa.

perfect! your boyfriend looked like a coquette princess. he looked yummy.

for a second, your mind goes blank, utterly blank. what do you do now? you've never switched the roles during sex...yet. you've always been the submissive one while jungkook handled everything.

"need help?" jungkook's shiteating grin just motivates you to do better. you'll prove him wrong. yeah!

you mutter a small no. you begin by kneeling down in front of your boyfriend, right in between his legs. his hard on was very visible through the thin material of his black calvein klein boxers, even staining it a little as well. you lean forward to press a kiss to where his tip was. licking some precum off the boxer as well.

jungkook hums in approval once you start to pepper kisses all over his boxers, finger hooking to the waistband of his boxers to pull them down. once you've fully taken them off, you begin by stroking the base of his cock up and down. very slowly.

the slow pace of your hands was slowly starting to drive jungkook mad. he wanted you to fasten up, or use your mouth, just do something that'll make him cum. but at the same time, he found it arousing. his girlfriend, usually the one who's begging to get fucked with a pillow in between her legs, taking control and using his cock however she pleased.

jungkook starts to thrust his cock into your hands, begging for more friction. and who are you to oppose. heh. you give in, moving your hands faster on his cock. meanwhile, you also leaned forward to kitten lick his red tip.

wrong. he so desperately wanted you to deepthroat his cock right now.

"fuck, baby, the things i would've done if i had my hands freed right now."

that's just for the play, by the way. only a fool would think that jungkook really felt trapped by those skimpy ribbons. he could easily break out. he's just letting you have your fun for now. you both knew that. such a good boyfie!

you giggle in response before spitting a globe of spit onto his cock. before it slides down his cock, you flatten your tongue on it and spread the spit all over his cockhead. you take the tip of his cock in your mouth, gently sucking on it.

you pull his tip out of your mouth with a pop. jungkook looks at you befuddled, then he tries to touch you. but oh—yeah, the ribbons. he thinks twice and settles on not breaking out of the ribbons.

you reach out your arm to grab the pillow on the couch, then placing it under your knees so that you could sit on it. it gave you some height as well. you look back at your boyfriend with a mischievous smile, then back down at your breasts. your arm travels to your back, your bra, and then slowly unhook it, letting the lingerie material fall down to reveal your perky breasts.

jungkook gasps, slowly putting the puzzle pieces together once you start massaging your breasts while eyeing his cock. shit. he bites his lower lip, watching the way the flesh of your breasts perfectly mold into your hands however you massage it.

your back was arched, chest popping out as you began to stroke his cock with your left hand. meanwhile, your fingers played with your breasts, rolling the little nub in between. jungkook didn't know where to look. your fresh nails set, pretty in pink with cute charms all over, looked so hypnotising wrapped around his cock. you were dripping, it was obvious as you constantly shifted your position on the pillow.

jungkook swears he sees stars once your hand leaves his cock to cup your breasts together and squeeze them. shit.

"put it in, baby." your voice was sultry once you spoke.

jungkook gladly thrusted his hips up, adjusting to the position a little because, well, can't use his hands. your boyfriend slides his cock in between your breasts with a groan, watching the way your breasts squeeze him in just right. he didn't need any lubricant, his cock was wet enough already with precum leaking from the tip.

jungkook begins to thrust his hips up and down sloppily. it was quite hard since his hands were tied. but you decided to help by thrusting your body forward and back to meet the pace of his thrusts. you stare at your boyfriend, whimpering prettily with a layer of sweat covering his face. he looked so pretty like this. cock desperately going in and out of the valley between your boobs. you were slowly starting to like this whole...taking control thing.

"you like this, kook?" you murmur.

your boyfriend laughs, grunting afterwards.

"are you trying to dirty talk to me?"

your eyebrows furrow, "ruined the moment."

he laughs again, tongue swiping over his lower lip. "talk to me. i like hearing your voice."

okay, now you're shy. what do you say now? you mentally cry.

you stay silent, but give him a little nod and continue to let him fuck into your boobs. the louder his moans got, the sloppier his thrusts became. jungkook breaks out a little whine, immediately shutting himself up after that. he's embarrassed, you can see it.

"come on, a little more. you're doing so good, baby." shiiiiit.

he fucks into you faster, but sloppier. just to make it a little easier (heh), you let a globe of spit slide down your chin and fall onto his cock.

"haa—" your boyfriend moans. and with one last thrust, a creamy liquid spurts out of his tip and lands on your chest, some on your chin as well. he could not believe that he came from just your tits. you let go of your breasts once he slips his cock out, sighing and plopping your forehead on the sofa.

you sit back to your previous position after a few seconds. your tits were covered in his cum. a sight to never forget. a sight to never forget, for sure! you snicker as you grabbed the camera on the coffee table behind you.

"where'd that come from?" jungkook talks.

you shush him with a kiss on his sensitive tip. what's gotten to you?

with the camera, you proceed to take multiple pictures of your breasts. squeezed against eachother, cum dripping from your nipples. to spice it more up, you bring in your boyfriend's (still hard) cock to the picture, playing it between your breasts.

"you're so cute, sweetheart. use my cock however you want." his back was resting on the sofa, half lidded eyes watching you use his cock for your cute little pictures.

"my girlfriend's a little whore? whom are you gonna show these pictures to? other guys?" you know he's joking, but you couldn't help but scoff.

"jus' you. i don't like other people. unlike you." you let go of his cock, letting it bounce back.

jungkook snickers, getting a kick out of annoying you.

"you're so mean!" you slap his chest hard.

"c'mon, baby." you place the camera back on the coffee table. pushing jungkook back, you climb onto his lap, strangling his thighs. you were sitting on his thigh, your crotch directly in contact with his skin. it was hard to not just fuck yourself on his thigh. but eh, maybe.

you moan once your clit touches his thigh. hand cupping your pussy, your index finger gently swipe over your clit a few times. so soft. you begin to rub it a little, flicking the little button over and over.

"having fun playing with yourself, princess? touch her nice and slow first, m'kay? add a finger after, she loves that." the way he was talking about your pussy as if it's completely something else around you so much. you lean back on your boyfriend's thigh, leg spread as your fingers played with your princess parts.

your fingers dip in between your folds, fingers getting coated in your wetness. humming in satisfaction with how wet it is, you seperate your folds with your fingers, forming a v shape. jungkook licks his lips, watching your arousal stick to your fingers.

"pinch her for me." jungkook groans once you obey his command, your own fingers pinching your clit for him. "that's right, sweetheart. now rub it slowly." you follow his words, rubbing your clit gently.

"mmh, i want you." you needed him so bad. wanted him to touch you and make you cum over and over. your fingers fasten at the thought, rubbing your clit harshly.

"you want me to touch you? just say the word and i'll touch you, sweet girl." you wanted to slap him across the face. you wanted his hands all over your body. but that meant removing the ribbons. you didn't want to lose control.

"say yes. i'll touch you good, sweetheart. make you feel just fine, yeah?" jungkook coos at the sight of your pussy compulsions. clenching and throbbing, begging for his touch.

"see, she wants me too. just look at her, baby. you have to let me touch her so i could help her out."

"mmmmgh!" you whine, not liking how this is going.

fuck it!

sitting back up on his lap, you pull on his hair to raise his head up so that you could kiss him harshly. you also manage to whine a "fine" in the middle. the moment jungkook got the que, he laughs, breaking out of those stupid little ribbons. your boyfriend lifts you up from below, your ass now sitting on his forearms as he harshly kissed you.

lips smacking eachother, sucking eachother's tongues and whatnot, jungkook didn't let you catch a breath. he was impatient. he wanted to eat you whole then and there.

"all of that just to take it off once i open my mouth, huh? that cock hungry?" jungkook speaks he removes his mouth from you. you just nod, not having any other words to say.

"lay down, pretty."

you impatiently lay down, stumbling on the pillows while you do it. your back was resting on the arm of the sofa with your leg raised up, your boyfriend getting in between your legs. he takes off his tank top with a smirk, throwing it and letting it land wherever in his room. jungkook takes in the sight in front of him.

you sprawled in front of him, pussy dripping while wearing those slutty little panties. what's even point if your whole cunt's exposed? slut, slut, slut. his slut, though. the sparkling jewellery laying on the swell of your breasts catches his attention next. your boyfriend touches it, caressing the charm with his palm.

he liked that a lot. you were his. his woman, his person, his everything in every possible way. you were the love of his life, his trophy. he carried you around like a trophy. always showing you off to his friends and everyone else.

"my girlfriend"

his eyes sparkled as he leaned down to press a small kiss on the charm. you could feel your boyfriend's warm breath hitting your lips. jungkook licks his lower lip, beginning to kiss your neck. he licks over an area, nuzzling into your shoulder. his left cheek was pressed against your shoulder blade, fingers running down your arm. you literally got goosebumps at his touch. he was so gentle and loving. as if he was treasuring you and your body. worshipping you.

"you're so beautiful, baby. how'd i get so lucky." your breath hitches at his praises, watching jungkook praise the shit out of you while kissing every inch of your body.

the moment he gropes both of your breasts at the same time by those large manly hands, i swear you almost came on the spot. your pussy desperately clench around nothing with your back arched, a small moan escaping your lips. your boyfriend laughs at your reaction, aware of how aroused you've become at this point.

"you want me to finally touch her now?" he signals at your pussy. your head jolts upwards, frantically nodding with a few yesses leaving your lips.

"pleasure." jungkook begins to circle your pretty clit meanwhile his other hand caressed the insides of your thigh, easing you down. your boyfriend slowly lays down on his stomach, face now completely aligned with your glistening pussy.

"hello there, sweetheart." you whine again—shit, you might as well just cum right now—jungkook's hand suddenly holds your hand, intervening them together. his chin lays on top of your crotch as he looked at you one more time, eyes showing nothing but pure affection towards to.

jungkook places a kiss on top of your clit, tongue gently swiping over the sensitive nub.

"pretty girl." his tongue entered your pussy to lick away all your arousal. you were moaning, pussy clenching at the sensation. it was good, god, his tongue, but it wasn't good enough to make you cum. you knew he was doing this on purpose. not sinking his tongue deeper into your cunt, jungkook just laps on your pussy and enjoys the taste of your wetness.

"so sweet." his fingers joined the party to rub slow and sensual circles on your clit. this was a sight to watch indeed. your boyfriend feasted on your pussy as if he was a starved man.

everything felt so good. he made sure to pull away once you feel like coming as well. meanie.

"keep it in, i need you to milk my cock, not my face." you do nothing but nod.

once he felt satisfied enough by your sloppy cunt, he pulls away to look at you. you notice how puffy his lips looked from all that making out with your pussy. that makes the two of you i guess!

jungkook grins, jacking off his hard cock. he was bricked up, of course. one look at you and it was over for him. you looked like you were straight out of a porno.

"i'm gonna stuff you full of my cock, baby. you would like that, wouldn't you?" he huffs, eyeing your dripping pussy and that pretty little face of yours.

"you make me so cock drunk, jungkook ;(" your manicured toes poke his thigh, foot almost about touch his cock until he playfully pushes it away with a laugh. "patience."

"look at how pretty these are." you hook a finger under the trap of your crotchless panties, pulling on it and letting the material slap back into place. "bought it just for you." there's a proud little grin on your face.

"yeah? who's card did you use?"

you hesitate for a moment, but answer. "mine."

jungkook pauses, eyebrow raising followed with a slap on your thigh.

"i've told you so many times to use my card but you never do. do i have to fuck the thought into you now?"

"uh-huh. jus' doesn't feel right to use your money for your own surprise." you pout.

"i don't care. i've clearly told you to use my card whenever you want."

"noooooo," you whine, "my friends are already calling you my sugar daddy!"

"then let them." he laughs, tracing your folds with his fingers. jungkook pushes two fingers in at once, beginning to scissor them in.

"ngh! i want your cock! not your fingers...!"

"gotta prep you, sweetheart." he fastens the pace of your fingers inside you, contemplating whether to add a third one in or not. eh, just do it. he stretches your cunt out with all three fingers while his other hand drew invisible doodles on your cute tummy.

once he feels like you're stretched out enough, he carefully pulls his fingers out, licking them clean afterwards. it was so nasty, yet so arousing.

without anymore waiting, jungkook's cock was already slipped in with no problems. he gives you a second to adjust to his cock as you shifted in your position, making yourself comfortable. once you gave him the okay signal, your boyfriend begins to give you those heavenly thrusts of his.

"haaa." you take a deep breath in, hands holding jungkook's shoulders for support. his pace wasn't fast, it was rather slow and sensual. he took his time with you. it was slow, he touched every inch and corner of your pussy this way. it was perfect. your mushy walls molded into whatever he wanted.

"nygh. ~" you let out small whines and moans, loving the way his cock slides in and out of you. it just felt so good.

"you're so amazing, please never stop." you speak out followed by a gasp, making jungkook chuckle. "never stoppin', sweetheart."

his face was buried in your neck, inhaling in your scent. your boyfriend licked your earlobe, tugging on it with his teeth a few times.

he begins to fasten his pace around you once he felt you clenching around him repeatedly. you moan out a long whine, the heel of your foot now digging into his asscheek while he pounded his cock into you. at this point, your moans had already sinked in together, turning out harmonically.

"you close?" your boyfriend leans down to whisper in your ear. you just nod, not really having the energy to speak words. you were fucked. you looked so fucked out from his dick, it was unreal. he loved this look on you, though. eyes half lidded, lips formed in an 'o' shape and breasts jumping up and down.

"shit, gonna drive me crazy." he lightly slaps your cheek. but you lean into his hand, wanting more of his touch.

soon you feel your orgasm coming in. ah, shit, clawing your nails into jungkook's shoulders, you just close your eyes and cum. jungkook's eyes were glued to your pussy as your juice milked his cock good. there was a white ring formed around his cock, making him smirk.

soon, jungkook cums as well, very well triggered by the pleasure from your orgasm. but he looks at you, asking whether he could cum inside or not. once you give him your approval, jungkook wastes no time to completely empty his balls into your cunt. he fucked you through his high, fucking his cum deeper into your pussy. it's fine, you were on birth control anyway.

he slowly pulled out of you, not letting you get hurt or anything. and then he just threw himself over your body. "oh!" you giggle a little. your boyfriend licked your cheek and bit it as if he was about to take a big bite out of his favourite food.

he leaned back to watch his cum drip down from your pussy. "heh." jungkook collects the liquid with his finger then guides it to your lips. you happily wrap your lips around them.

"can't let a drop go to waste."

you laugh, hitting his chest playfully. you spent another few minutes laying on top of eachother until you decided to break the silence.

"so, did you like my surprise?"

you knew damn well he LOVED it. you just wanted to hear the story.

"best surprise ever, sweet girl." he caresses your cheek with the back of his index finger.

"happy valentines day, my love ♡"

"happy valentines day, jungkook ♡"

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

taglist: @fungie2332 @wintertxt @wheexine @hyunjinswifeee @ohsweetmimosa @canyon-txt

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onlyswan · 1 month

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summary: in which the sweet ache of yearning metamorphoses into the art of intimacy and knowing.

idol!jk x reader, est. relationship / fluffy fluff, a dash of angst, explicit content (minors dni!!) / word count: 10.5k

warnings/content: divided into seven parts. it’s like a timeline hehe <3 ; mainly in jk’s pov!! ; underaged drinking (oc is 18 in that part but the legal age of drinking in sk is 19 so!) ; mention of almost? n*des (neither sent by our mcs) ; making out ; thigh grinding ; brief or*l (f. rec + allusions to m. rec) ; mention and allusion to s*x [yesyes it’s the first time] [oc may or may not cry a little too…] ; they have a ‘what if i die before you?’ discourse lmao

playlist! restless - bibi ; lily of the valley - daniel ; who do you love - the black skirts ; intro (end of the world) - ariana grande ; snow - josh makazo

> in which masterlist!

note: look at my gorjus ethereal bf !!!! anyway… hi, i’m back ^_^ here’s my not so little offering to those who’s been missing the iw couple <3 as always i’d love to hear your thoughts :") come chat!!

—

I. THE FALLING

“just stay the night.” you blurt out, turning to jungkook to express your worry. “i can’t let you leave right now. it’s not safe.”

his wide eyes scan the headline of the news once more.

heavy snowfall, road accident, several injured… versus staying the night at the apartment of not quite his friend, not quite his lover, for the first time.

he can’t deny that he favors the latter over the former with an explicable feeling rendering him breathless. still, he can’t allow his enthusiasm to cloud his better judgement. he knows he’s still somewhat of a stranger to you. he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome or make you feel uncomfortable in your own space.

“are you sure you’re comfortable with it?”

“sure. should i be worried?“

“no! uhm, i just thought not everyone would be comfortable to have a person they’re not very close with to sleep over.”

you chuckle, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “chill. i have bigger things to be scared of than the guy who just cried with me while watching an anime movie.”

oh… he thought you were too absorbed in wiping your own tears to notice him crying too.

he slumps back on the sofa with a sigh. “i see. i guess we’re left with no choice then.”

“i have an extra toothbrush!”

—

jungkook doesn’t quite understand people’s obsession with his eyes, but getting enamored by the innocence that yours seem to glisten with, he wonders if he is experiencing the same case.

“can you see if this fits you?”

you stand before him with a stack of neatly folded clothes, unraveling a pair of gray sweatpants to hold up infront of him.

“i think… there’s a string? oh, there’s none.”

he chuckles. “you forgot?”

“well, it’s not mine. my ex never came back for his clothes.“ you huff with a roll of your eyes, muttering a silent his loss into the air. “i’ve washed it though! don’t worry! it’s just- you know- sleeping in denim pants is uncomfortable.”

does that mean you still wear the clothes of your exes? this pisses him off for some unknown reason. he would much rather sleep uncomfortably than wear their clothes.

you kindly smile, pushing the black knitted sweater against his chest. “but this is mine. it’s really warm and comfortable!”

but on another note, you’re too sweet and thoughtful. how could he ever say no?

—

the sweatpants is a little loose around his waist. your sweater, however, feels incredibly soft against his skin. as he walks back into the living room, he pulls down his sweater paws and runs his hands across its sleeves. if he had to describe the feeling it evokes, he would say it is very much similar to rolling around on freshly washed and dried bedsheets.

“it’s nice, right?”

he whips his head around upon hearing the sound of your voice. for a quick second, you caress his arm with the back of your hand, and even with the barrier separating your skin from his, the casual touch causes his breath to hitch.

“i finished cleaning the room. i set up a comforter on the floor so you can take the bed.”

“is that so? thank you!”

he zooms past you. you’re left standing alone, blinking in confusion. he is more than happy to welcome himself into your bedroom… so he can slyly steal the bed you prepared for yourself. he slides under the covers, makes himself all cozy with his hands resting on the back of his head as if it’s not a raging winter and he’s lying under the summer sun.

“and what do we have here?”

jungkook cracks one eye open. there you are leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. you raise your eyebrows at him, demanding an answer.

“what?” he smiles childishly. “you’re the one doing me a favor. i’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

“how polite. suit yourself, sir.” you shake your head in amusement, smiling.

you enter the room, flicking the lightswitch off and locking the door at the speed of light. without thinking, probably; muscle memory formed by your routine. he is the only thing not a part of it. yet.

“goodnight, jungkook.”

“goodnight.”

he still sees you moving around in the dark. you crouch down beside him and he feels the extra pillow he’s partially crushing under his weight be jerked away all of a sudden.

“i need this one. sorry.” you whisper-shout apologetically. “goodnight! sweet dreams!”

—

jungkook sighs, tired of mindlessly scrolling through social media. his eyes flutter shut as he allows his phone to collapse on his chest. he is yet to even figure out if going to work later would be possible because of the blocked roads. he has gotten enough earful about not heading straight to the dorm and he cannot risk any more. because then, he would have to see less of you.

he sneakily opens his eyes, craning his head to the side to steal a glance of you, but he finds that you’ve already fallen asleep on your textbook and he’s unable to look away again. bathed in the warm light of the lampshade on your bedside, he has never seen you more peaceful. he learns with hard evidence that you’re a side sleeper, curled up underneath the blanket and cutely snuggled against the pillow you took from him.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been admiring you, but he knows he doesn’t want you to think of him as a creep. you stir in your sleep and his hand swiftly flies to his phone. pretending to be absorbed in reading the first tweet he comes across, he tries taking another subtle glimpse of you.

it’s as if he’s been caught and punished.

he flinches.

your textbook collides with the floor, landing only inches next to his pillow. he begins sweating. he could’ve easily gotten a concussion at best, death at worst.

he sits up with his elbows anchoring him, poking around to investigate the cause of the fall. admittedly, he’s a little sad to see your back now facing him.

“shit, what am i doing?” he roughly rubs his face to knock some sense back into him.

he needs to get some sleep. yeah, that’s it. nothing more.

he picks up your textbook, taking it upon himself to bring it over to your desk. on his way back, he also decides to to turn off the lampshade.

his finger freezes on the button, however. he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to silence the giggle that threatens to escape him— so fucking endeared to discover that you’ve kicked off your blanket and rolled over to your other side along with the pillow, your thigh carelessly slumped over it.

he tucks himself back into bed, heart feeling all warm and fuzzy.

“so, so adorable.”

the words escape him without thought; the smile on his face ever-present even as he drifts off to dreamland.

—

II. ALLOW ME TO LINGER BY THE DOOR

“hey, it’s getting late. shouldn’t you be heading home by now?”

you sit beside jungkook on the sofa after a phone call, and his round eyes grow twice their size when you steal the iced tea from his grasp, nonchalant as your lips wrap around the same red straw his have been only seconds ago.

he awkwardly clears his throat, perhaps to mask his loud heartbeat. “is your friend okay?”

“oh, she’ll be fine. it’s her fault so i can’t do much for her this time.” you shrug, picking up your chopsticks as you eye the last dumpling in the bowl. “still hate that guy, though.”

“the one you think is lying about being rich?”

“i don’t know much about real ones, but i’m pretty sure i’ve seen enough fake diamonds!”

that seems to hits the right spot to elevate your mood. you hum happily as you chew, collapsing on the cushions and looking straight ahead at the television screen.

“sorry about that. you must be bored and tired by now.”

“about that…” jungkook swallows his nervousness. he rests his arm on top of the sofa, just to act cool. he’s so close to you yet still so distant. “i’m dead tired from filming today. i’ve been up since four in the morning. would it be too much trouble if i spend the night again?”

“i should be the one asking you that. why do you like this trashy place way more than i do?” you shake your head, wiping your mouth with a paper napkin. “i’ll go fix up so you can rest then. you’re lucky minji didn’t claim the bed first.”

fuck, he was supposed to get kicked out?

“wait! do you need a change of clothes?”

“there’s no need!” he replies a little too quickly. if he has to wear the clothes of another one of your exes, he might end up on the news for setting himself on fire. “i have extras in my backpack i didn’t got to wear today.”

“oh, okay.” you flash him a smile before disappearing into the bedroom.

yeah, how convenient.

he exhales through his mouth.

when did he start lying? his mother would be very disappointed in him. but on the other hand, his father would explode in boisterous laughter and pat him on the back. nevermind… that just makes it worse.

“guess i’m going to hell!” he shrugs, wearing a smile that is rather too jubilant.

he grabs his backpack on the floor and heads to the bathroom; your home is another home away from home.

—

jungkook is exhausted from dance practice. he must’ve exerted himself too hard again without realizing it. for the third time this week, he’s attaching pain relief patches to his neck and shoulders, shirt pulled to the side as to expose the area. normally, he’d just take it off without care, but he’s in a different setting. while he’s pretty confident with the current condition of his body, it would be rude to strip out of nowhere. and you make him nervous. would he fluster you or would you fluster him? he’s not prepared to find out yet.

“are you okay?”

his movements from below capture your attention amidst catching up to the events in your group chats.

“i’m okay, just a little sore. don’t worry!” he waves off your concern with a scrunch of his nose. “i also fell asleep in the car earlier so…”

“i can give you a massage. if you want.”

“no, it’s fine.” even though the offer sounds extremely tempting, especially coming from you. “i know you’re tired too.”

“hm, your loss. i’m kind of an expert at it.”

he squints his eyes at you. “really?”

“you don’t believe me?”

you sit up on the bed with an offended gasp, and he laughs at how you quite literally rose up to the challenge.

“we do have actual experts come in and take care of us too, you know that?”

“excuse you, i’m an actual expert! i have more than a decade of experience!”

he isn’t surprised to witness you climb down immediately afterwards, sitting behind him with your hands already on his shoulders.

“hmm, my dad worked at construction sites. my mom had a desk job. this- this was my job.” your fingers begin pressing down as if you’re assessing him, touching the bare skin of his still exposed shoulder. “got paid with extra allowance. making money was easy back then.”

“you’re so adorab- ah, ah, ah-” his sentence is cut short by his own self when you apply pressure on a big knot, gently massaging it in small circles to loosen the tightly wound muscle fibers. “fuck, it hurts… yeah, that’s good. don’t stop.”

he hears you snort, feels your forehead collapse on his back as vibrant giggles rack your body. a blush of red creeps up to his cheeks and he’s thankful that you can’t see his face.

he laughs along, belly aching. “okay, okay- i heard it! i should keep my mouth shut!”

“no no no, i won’t laugh anymore!”

“you’re still doing it right now!”

“i’ll stop!” you sniffle, laughed to the point of tears. you squeeze his shoulders. “just relax! you’re so tense here, see? no wonder it hurts.”

there’s no denying that his body is pushed to its limits everyday; he has grown accustomed of this kind of lifestyle and he doesn’t complain. you’re making him want to do it all the time, though. if it means getting pampered like this? hell yeah.

“it hurts here too. over- over here-” he reaches a hand to his back, patting the area that has been bothering him all day. “this part. will you make it go away, please?”

“here? your shoulder blade?”

“yes!”

“okay. tell me if i should go gentler or harder. i don’t want to hurt you.”

it’s his turn to snort. he shortly learns that was not a smart move.

“ah, ah, ah-” you pull at his ear and this time he moans in pain. “oh, come on! you gave that one away!”

“shut up! you’re not allowed to laugh too!”

—

he tries not to create more embarrassing sounds. at some point he begun to busy himself with his phone, but to no avail, there are occasional moans and grunts he can’t bite down because you weren’t lying about being a pretty damn good masseur. and then he does it on purpose once, just to hear you laugh again, because his being already feels a million times lighter and you show no signs of exhaustion or boredom.

“you have a mole here,” you casually observe. he feels a light touch on the side of his neck and the butterflies in his stomach become untamed. “it’s sexy.”

he blushes, caught off guard by the compliment. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” you hum.

the minutes pass by and he is no longer faking silence, however. all he can think about now is how he wishes that he was lying down for this. how long has it been? you’ve been definitely at it for almost an hour. he yawns, eyelids fighting to stay open but failing miserably.

“hey, wipe your drool.”

he blinks. your beautiful face greets him— for a second, he’s convinced that he has begun dreaming. with a mischievous grin, you lift the collar of his shirt to wipe the corners of his lips, and in a state of near delirium, he cackles.

“seriously, thank you… i-i don’t even know what to say. i really needed that.” he sighs, carelessly rubbing his heavy eyes. “i’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow. how about that?”

“sounds good. now go to sleep.” you pat his back before rising on your feet. “your head kept on dropping and i felt bad.”

“that happens a lot.”

“well, it’s bad for your neck. keep doing it and i’ll get more free dinners.”

the unmistakable sound of a kiss that follows, it suspiciously matches with the warmth that lingers on his cheek.

“goodnight!”

“goodnight…” he only manages to mumble.

his mind has gone off to space. you tuck yourself into your bed after turning off the lampshade while jungkook feels like he just got blasted to the moon. he needs to get out of here. STAT.

“i’ll go drink some water. do you want me to get you a glass?”

“no, i’m fine.”

he makes out your figure shuffling in the dark, snuggled closely to a pillow.

he nods, which you probably didn’t even see. he steps out of the room as quietly as possible, slowly closing the door as to produce the smallest click. he pads to the kitchen still feeling light, almost like he’s walking on a path made out of clouds. he pours himself a glass of cold water from the fridge, chugs it down to the very last drop.

he licks his lips as he sets down the glass on the counter. he sighs deeply. he can still feel the outline of your lips, sticky lip balm printed on his skin. is it normal that he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it off?

“totally worth going to hell for.” he muses, unaware of the smirk that has started playing on his lips.

he briskly washes the glass at the sink, wiping it dry with a towel before deposting it back into the rack.

as expected, you’ve already fallen asleep by the time that he returns. the light from the hallway casts a glow over your face and it’s a sight that is painfully intimate in its own peculiar way.

he can’t put a name to it, but whatever this feeling is, he likes it and he wants it to last.

and so, he lingers by the door for a few seconds more.

—

III. THE YEARNING

jungkook hisses your name with yet another curse, heart so close to jumping out of his chest. when you were on the phone incoherently begging him to take you home from the club, he expected to carry out a passed out person from his car to their apartment floor, which he found no problem with aside from the possibility of having to deal with them throwing up.

instead, he is struck by an unusual combination of amusement and distress. he has been running around trying to capture you as you spend your final bursts of energy ringing strangers’ doorbells. your exhilarated laughter echoes throughout the hallways. he must confess that he was laughing along with you the first time… until it started to get a little bit out of hand.

if someone recognizes him by chance, he would be beyond fucked.

“don’t- don't do it! stop it! please!” he finally manages to seize your wrist before it can reach another, forced to wrap his arms around your torso so you won’t escape from him again. “are you crazy? it’s 3am! people are sleeping!”

“that’s the point.” you mewl, looking back to him with a childish pout underneath the hood of your coat. “why are they sleeping? it’s when the ghosts come out. does no one ever think about ghosts’ feelings? because i do! if i were a ghost, i’d be lonely and crying right now!”

oh my god, what is happening?

“so let’s invite them and everyone for more drinks!” you jump up and down, his secure hold doesn’t hold a candle to your hypernese. “jungkook, i want to drink more! more more more! buy me!”

unfortunately, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on your cuteness. he hears a door click from behind and his instincts instantaneously kick in. oh shit, you actually fucking woke someone up. he sweeps you off your feet, clasping a hand over your mouth to mute your angry protests. he turns at a corner, trapping you against the wall.

a deep and manly voice fills the silence. “hello? who’s there?”

two pairs of eyes widen, staring at each other as if they can read minds through them. he notices the unsteady rise and fall of your chest; your heart must be beating as fast as his. he has to pull down his black mask to be able to breathe.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he grumbles with a pointed look.

when you smile, he perceives it first through the palm of his hand before it reaches your eyes. only then does he fully register the dangerously close proximity between you.

dangerous because he wants to kiss you.

dangerous because you’d dare him to do it and his self-control has been reduced to a million cracks.

“ah, this prank again! fucking teenagers!”

and the door slams shut. you both flinch.

“that guy has a fridge full of beer!”

you are vexed, voice muffled but still clearly loud. you harshly paw at his forearm to remove his hand, and your pout finally comes into view.

“no, you’ve had enough! seriously, what am i going to do with you? huh? you shouldn’t even be drinking at all.” he blows a loud breath, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. “how did you even get in the club? fake id? you have it, don’t you?”

you rush to defend yourself. “i’m only younger by a year and i don’t look like it! as if they actually care in those places. they only want money.”

he begins to question if the bloodshot of your eyes is solely because of the alcohol or you’re also on the verge of tears.

“why? are you mad at me?”

“no, i’m not mad. should i be?”

“…i don’t know. why do you even care about things like that? you’re not my boyfriend or my parent so i don’t need to explain myself to you.” you angrily ramble, wriggling out of the tight spot he had you trapped in.

and that felt like a fucking dagger to the heart.

“you know what? i-i can do this. i can take care of myself, so go home.”

“____, don’t be like this, please. you’re drunk.”

“i’m not drunk, just tipsy! you can go home!”

he runs after you, but you shrug him off and continue walking away, perhaps a little too fast. he curses himself when he catches up to you seconds too late, witnessing you fall over to the floor with a thump and a whimper.

“are you okay?! where does it hurt?!”

you shake your head profusely, but your hands gripping your ankle gives away the answers. he doesn’t press you further. without another word, he hooks an arm under your knees and the other under your back, swooping you from the floor. he stands up straight, adjusts your position slightly, and walks the path you attempted to travel alone in your intoxicated state.

perhaps he is mad. he went and abandoned his rest time when you said that you needed him, only for you to rudely send him home. he has the right to be mad, even just a little bit, despite the fact that he isn’t your boyfriend, right?

not that it matters.

you cling to his neck and it all melts away.

he glances down at you. a soft smile has replaced your frown. “oh, so now you’re happy again?”

“yes,” you tilt your head. “feels like i’m floating.”

“where’s your key?”

“huh?”

“your key-”

“oh!”

you dig out the item from the pocket of your coat. you proudly dangle it infront of his face along with the colorful keychains attached to it; the bear was gifted by yours truly from japan. he totally forgot that it existed. the last time he saw it was when he tossed it in the paper bag he gave you.

he’s not even your boyfriend. the two of you know that doesn’t make sense anymore.

—

after he sets you down on the sofa, he kneels on the floor to remove the heels from your aching feet. he gets the hang of it after unfastening the second strap. while he’s preoccupied, you strip off your coat to combat the increased temperature of your body.

“i need to pee.” you urgently kick off the heels as you rise on your feet.

jungkook looks up and forgets how to breathe. you are irresistibly gorgeous; the cherry red mid-thigh dress you’ve been hiding from him hugs your body so perfectly. he’s ensnared and thoroughly convinced that you’re aware of your power to leave men and women alike sweating and tongue-tied.

goddammit, he is mad. you were at the club looking like this among flashing lights and grinding bodies and he is not your boyfriend.

“doesn’t your ankle hurt?”

“doesn’t matter. i need to pee.”

he clicks his tongue as you limp your way towards the bathroom.

“you’re so hardheaded.”

he lifts up your arm to bring it over his shoulders; he holds your waist to assist you.

“and your heart is so soft.” you giggle, and his world stops when you hold his face… peppering his cheek with an amount of kisses he doesn’t have half the mind to count.

you said you’re not drunk, just tipsy. does that mean you genuinely like him this much and you’ll remember it when you wake up?

dear god, he hopes so.

—

jungkook is supposed to wake up in four hours. however, he’s still wide awake sitting by your pillow, mind completely blank on what he’s supposed to do now that you’re safe and sound. he can’t bring himself to leave just yet. you bump against his knee as you shuffle and squirm, eyes closed but yet to land in the confines of slumber. he can hear your rugged and frustrated breathing, can’t help but to hopelessly adore how pretty you are even with knitted eyebrows and tousled hair.

he likes you so much. he knows it hasn’t been that long since you met but the thought of losing the chance of winning you over makes him want to cry and throw a tantrum. you’re running in his mind day and night. you have permeated all his senses. you charm him with your unapologetic existence and you effortlessly captivate his ungiven affections.

when it comes to love, his passion becomes a weakness.

a whine emits from your parted lips as if you sense that something is wrong. your hands pat around the mattress— searching and searching, until they stumble upon him. you push yourself up, head landing on the pillow, and your arms, they hug him close by his waist. only then do you finally come to a still, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

you are at peace and he is experiencing an emotional turmoil— falling in love. this is simply not fair.

the lines are becoming so blurry. he is losing control of his hands, hyperaware of what he is capable with his possession of them. he strokes your head gently, hair brushing across his palm— this is soothing to him as much as it is you.

this feels right, he thinks. he wants time to stretch from this galaxy to another.

he feels a weak tug at his sweater.

“i’m cold now,” your complaint comes out mumbled against the thick fabric.

next thing he knows you’re pulling him down by his collar, leaving him with no choice but to lie down beside you as to not crush you under his weight. where the hell did you gather the strength to do that?!

he hisses in panic. “yah! what are you doing?”

“i’m cold,” you repeat.

“____, we’re lying down on the blanket. if you can just scoot over for a seco- i’ll take it out. move-”

his attempts on communicating to you only fall on deaf ears. he zips his mouth to admit defeat.

you cling to him for warmth, and jungkook finds himself giving more than that. he volunteers his arm to be your pillow, softly cupping the back of your head as you nuzzle your face on his chest; his other arm wraps around your torso to keep you close. it is quite a tight fit on a single bed— he figures out a lame excuse for later.

now he can say for certain that you’re hearing his heartbeat, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore. he also doesn’t mind the scent of alcohol because it’s tragically losing the battle against your sweet perfume. it renders him enchanted. and the dress… that hypnotizing dress. he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to banish the sinful thoughts flooding his imagination.

he didn’t peg you to be the physically affectionate type, but seeing that you can’t sleep without hugging something, someone— he wants to be just the thing that you cherish as your safe haven. he wants this memory to be cute… and romantic. but too much heavy on the romance, you affect his body and heart in ways no one can.

he tries to will his growing erection to ebb away. it’s not an appropriate situation. he likes and respects you too much.

“my makeup…”

you said it so quietly, he almost believed he was making it up in his head.

“what was that?”

“will you- please, will you help me take off my makeup? it’s bothering me.” you make one final request at the depths of drowsiness, speech slurred and stuttered. “the wipes… the drawer behind you.”

he should’ve thought of that. he’s learning. next time, he will.

he settles into his previous position after grabbing the wipes.

“how do i help? is it okay if i d-”

he interrupts his question when he realizes that you’ve finally fallen asleep.

his sigh momentarily fills the defeaning silence of the night. the exhaustion has also begun to take a toll on him. he’s going to have to catch up on sleep during car rides and set breaks. he’s already dreading it as he’s planning around their hectic schedule.

as he wipes off your makeup as carefully as possible, he mutters into the thin air. “you owe me a massage for this.”

—

IV. HAPPINESS OUTSIDE DAYDREAMS

“you’re my boyfriend now and you don’t sleep on the floor anymore. how cute is that?” you happily think out loud, swinging your feet dangling at the edge of the bed. “but if you want to go back to our old ways… my bed is small even for me.”

“no way. are you kidding?!” he jokingly protests in an angry manner. “your bed is perfect.”

jungkook is on cloud nine. it sure does feel good to hear you sound so happy calling him your boyfriend, even more so to reap its special privileges.

“i keep forgetting to ask. which side do you prefer?”

you’re sat facing the door. “i don’t know, but i’m used to sleeping here.”

“alright. i’ll stay here.” he climbs under the covers, spreading his arms once his back hits the mattress. the smirk on his face widens. “come here, baby.”

a grunt slips past his lips when you jump into his arms without warning, eventually falling over to the side when he moves to envelope you in his embrace.

“you’re so warm.” you purr in contentment as you bury your face against his chest. “i love cuddling so much.”

“i’ve noticed,” he replies. he softly squeezes your exposed thigh after you slump your leg over his hip to maximize your comfort. “your pillow must be softer than me though.”

“no, i like you more… cuddling is proven to have health benefits, you know?”

he quirks an eyebrow. “oh really? give me examples.”

“it releases happy chemicals in the brain… it apparently also helps to lower blood pressure and heart rate, and it-” you fail to stifle a sleepy yawn, hands grasping the cloth of his shirt and forming closed fists. “…improves one’s quality of sleep.”

“i can see it’s working well for you.” he chuckles.

“is it for you?”

“mhmm, yes,” he presses his lips to your forehead. “i’m happy. there’s only happy chemicals in my brain right now.”

jungkook means it wholeheartedly and it feels strange. he doesn’t feel happy in this moment alone. this happiness is colossal and there’s not nearly enough hours in a day to take it all in. this happiness will still be here when he wakes up tomorrow, and the day after that. this happiness stays with him even when you’re not physically present. you’ve turned him into an optimistic fool but it’s not always that he experiences an attraction this strong.

he’s smitten and he can’t hide it. the people who are around him everyday sees it on his face; he doesn’t even need to say it out loud. all that corny shenanigans about romance giving you a certain type of glow is apparently true, it turns out.

“kissing is said to have the same effects, actually.”

your coyness captivates him from his thoughts.

he draws back slightly, the glint of mischief in his eyes mirroring yours. “where do you learn these things?”

“through reading and experience.” you shrug innocently. “want to test that out too?”

you’re everywhere. he can taste your lips, your tongue; your body wash floods his sense of smell with a sweet and clean scent, plus something else he can’t quite name. he can only it describe as you. your hair is tangled in his fingers and your hands… so delicate and teasing with every touch, it feels like being electrified. it still feels incredibly chilly outside but heat is radiating off his skin. he needs to peel himself off you before he loses his last shred of self-control.

“baby…” he whispers, lips only a couple inches from yours. he takes your hand in a tender hold, placing it over his racing heartbeat. “i’m not sure about this one being good for my health.”

“but it is. you just burnt some calories.” you smile, wiping the sweat that has started to form on his forehead. “should we stop?”

he feels his cheeks become more flushed, but his craving for you has overtaken his shyness. he might as well be drunk; intoxicated by you.

“no.” he refuses, conflicted and almost pained. “i can’t…”

he gets rid of the distance between your lips once more, swallowing the first obscene moan he brings out of you.

—

V. THE SPRING FLOWER IN THE EYE OF THE STORM

although you know they held affection for you, the boys you’ve attracted in your life have made one thing clear: they see you as an object of desire, and you unintentionally play the part well. if you were going to make their wet dreams come true, then you ought to derive pleasure from it as well without shame.

but with jungkook, the tables have turned. you wore the same lipstick from last time to rile him up on purpose, but instead you’re the one stuck trying to recall a time you were this putty in somebody’s hands. you’re not in control— you expect this thought would make you spiral, but it doesn’t.

you stumble inside your apartment making out with your boyfriend and you have an orange azalea tucked behind your ear. his hand is in your mess of a hair and it protects your head from the impact of the wall as your back collides with it. you don’t know if it was on purpose or not but your heart flutters nonetheless. this is sickeningly romantic and you want to drown yourself in it.

“oh, feels good.” his mouth on your neck is addictive, you imagine it would be heavenly on more vulnerable parts of you. your nails harshly dig into his shoulder as he takes his time with every lick, every nip of his teeth— eager to learn more about your body and what makes it weak at the knees.

you tug at his hair with a whisper. “jungkook…”

“mhm? yes, baby?”

you thought you’ve seen and felt enough. you know about lust, but never felt a chemistry this electrifying. there’s an emotion screaming beneath the daze in jungkook’s eyes; it’s always been there, but not this loud. you think if you trust your gut and open yourself up… you might just come to gain an understanding of it.

you bite your bottom lip, behind it a shadow of a smile. “bedroom.”

his restless hands slide down to hook around your thighs, and not long after, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he navigates your apartment blinded by the mutual refusal of your lips to disconnect. you giggle every time he bumps into something and groans. with his fear of accidentally letting you fall felt through his tight grip, you’re the one who kicks the bedroom shut. the sound couldn’t have been louder than the pounding of your heart reaching your own ears.

jungkook is gentle as he lays you down on the bed, but your lack of inhibitions reign over you. you begin unbuttoning his shirt, unconsciously grinding your heat against his thigh as you do so. it catches him by surprise, but then his strong hands find purchase on your waist, and you know he wants this as much as you do.

the kiss is broken up by a moan when his grip falls to your hips, guiding your wild movements in chasing pleasure with a tenderness and sensuality that transforms you into a feverish mess. another gush of arousal ruins your underwear worse. you kiss him again and eventually you lose count of the buttons— patience runs thin and with adrenaline rushing through your veins, you tear his shirt apart.

he hisses. “baby, shit- what did y-”

“shhh,” you place an index finger over his lips.

he chuckles raspily, shaking his head in disbelief. your giggles join him, equally amused with yourself.

it’s still for a few seconds, but you can hear each other breathe in the dark. you’ve seen him naked but his silhouette alone stirs the fuel spreading throughout your body. he’s perfect. your lips reclaim the place of your finger. your hands caress every inch of his skin, every curve of his flesh they can reach. he doesn’t make an effort to hold his noises and it turns you on more, if that is even possible at this point. his muscles continue to tense under your touches, even worse when you find his nipples to tease and play with. he’s perfect.

“it’s my turn.” he tries to say in the middle of the kiss, but you don’t hear a thing until he’s pulling away breathless and you’re whining in disappointment. “let me return the flavor please? i’ve been going crazy thinking about it. fuck, please.”

you sit up on the bed, pushing his naked chest challengingly. “what? you want to eat me out?“

he swallows, wide scandalized eyes failing to escape your keen observation. “i do.”

you watch him watch you strip off your sweater, “really…?” and then unclasp your bra, allowing its straps to provocatively slide down your shoulders.

“ye-yes, really.”

“then what’s stopping you?”

he whines out your name, interrupting himself with his craving for another kiss as he slips off your bra completely. it gets lost on the floor along with your sweater and you smirk deviously against his lips. “you’re testing me like this, huh? you’re so mean.”

you lie on your bed but you feel like you’re on top of the world. jungkook scatters kisses from your neck down to your chest, occasionally licking and biting as if he can’t help but to taste you. he uncovers another ticklish spot along your ribcage, but you bite your lip to control your giggles. instead, you touch his face to subtly guide him away from it.

he nuzzles his cheek against your palm, eyelids fluttering close as he presses a soft kiss to your wrist.

“may i?”

the shape of his lips lingers there. no one has ever kissed your wrist, nor have you ever imagined the first time to take place in bed.

your thumb strokes his cheek tenderly. the silence that follows there after concerns jungkook. he calls out your name, snapping you out of deep thought.

“may i?” he repeats himself.

he is patiently suspended over the waistband of your skirt. ever the gentleman, you half-smile.

“will you fuck me good after?”

the hand on his face sneaks down to pull up the skirt over your stomach; an even tinier piece of fabric covers the most intimate part of your body.

“whatever you want, baby, i will do it.” he promises.

you can hear the smirk in his voice, but you’re unable to form another response as his tongue laves over the lace, the warmth and wetness saturating through and stimulating your clit— once, slowly, and then over and over again.

you gasp, jolting and squirming in pleasure. he only makes it worse when he hums and you feel the vibration against you. you whine and he squeezes the soft flesh of your inner thighs in an attempt soothe you, keep you still, nuzzling his cheek as he meets your heated gaze.

“relax… is my baby always this sensitive?” he places a chaste kiss over your clit, causing your breath to hitch. “‘cause i’ve barely started.”

“jungkook,” you impatiently whine. “why’d you stop? just do it, please- need you.”

you’d wipe off that stupid smirk on his face if only you weren’t so pent up and you didn’t need his tongue.

“wow… didn’t think you’re the type to beg.” he muses, more so talking to himself. “i like it.”

hell no, you’re not.

but finally, he dives in, greedily pulling aside the flimsy material for a real taste of you. instead of a sharp remark, erotic sounds between a moan and a sob emit from your lips. your toes curl at the surge of mind-numbing ecstasy overwhelming your body. your hands fisting the sheets fly to his hair, frantically tugging like you can’t take it, but you beg and beg and beg him for more.

—

the last time you had sex was more than four months ago. you realized that you liked jungkook, and you simply didn’t want to do it with anybody else. sexual frustration combined with the romantic pining for a man that could potentially ruin your life; your youth has been nothing short of eventful.

has sex always been this good? you can’t remember. you’re drunk on pleasure even in the aftermath; you’re not sure if you’re really here or floating someplace else. as you catch your breath, jungkook soothes your body with gentle kisses and strokes of your skin, whispering sweet nothings. mostly babbling about how beautiful you are. and you feel it— feel beautiful, you mean.

you gradually open your eyes, vision adjusting to the divine view infront of you. jungkook is golden, skin still glistening with sweat under the warm glow of the lampshade. your heart skips a beat when he smiles at you.

“are you good? do you need anything? water?”

“again.”

his eyes widens. “again?“

“round two.” you giggle.

you push yourself up to reach his lips, but the kiss ends too soon for your liking.

“jungkook-” you complain.

“wait!”

you stare in bewilderment as he bends down from the edge of bed, appearing to be reaching for one of the objects discarded on the floor.

“what is it?”

“i found it!”

it’s the flower.

beaming with a hue of pure excitement, he tucks the azalea behind your ear for the second time tonight. pretty, he says it so quietly that you only understand through the movement of his lips.

he looks bewitched by you. in a different setting you’d be smug about it, but at this moment, you don’t understand. you can’t read what’s on his mind. if only you could see yourself through his eyes, even for just a moment, then maybe you’d understand why he’s dancing with fire and folding with his tower of cards.

it would be too silly and embarrassing to start crying now, right?

you swallow the lump in your throat, glassy eyes overshadowed by your boyfriend leaning in to plant a kiss on your forehead. as if that isn’t enough to entirely melt your heart, he intertwines his fingers with yours. your walls come crumbling down. in a haste to forbid your emotions from breaking free, you reach for him and slip your tongue in his mouth for a fervent kiss.

the burning tears that drip down to your temples are lost evidence you will bring to the grave.

—

“you’re not supposed to be awake.” jungkook complains as soon as he opens the door.

you only spare him a glance before returning to your task. instead of being under the sheets, you’re sat on the floor with his button-up shirt from last night laid across your lap. only several steps closer and he realizes that you’re sewing.

he exhales through his mouth in surprise, setting aside the tray of food on the bed before joining you on the floor.

“baby, what are you doing?! it’s fine. you don’t need to fix it.”

“i know, but i want to.” you reply, smiling, eyes still swollen from sleep focused on the needle and thread. “i stepped on one of the buttons so i looked for the two other.”

he’s dumbfounded watching you sew with so much care and precision. oh my god, he is in love with you. he thinks it so loud he gets terrified that he might’ve ended up speaking it out loud too.

“at least eat first!”

“wow, where did you buy ingredients so early?”

“early?” he scratches his head. “it’s lunch time.”

“what?!” your eyes grow twice their size. “jungkook, i’m late for work! what didn’t you wake me up?!”

“you- you we- you were tired!” he stutters defending himself.

he awkwardly catches his shirt when you throw it aside in a rush to get to the bathroom.

“baby, what about your food?!” he yells.

“wait, i forgot my towel-” you pop out from the doorframe, beaming at him breathlessly. “oh, please pack the food in my lunchbox!”

—

VI. SPEAKING TRUTHFULLY, YOU’RE THE ONE FOR ME

“i missed you.”

you giggle. “you look drunk.”

you hold jungkook’s cheeks in the palm of your hands, and he revels in the comforting warmth radiating from them.

he closes his eyes with a toothy grin. “i’m exhausted.”

“then go to sleep!”

“i don’t want to!”

he opens one eye, peeking at you.

“i came here so you won’t have to tire yourself out more going to my place.” you pout. “why do you hate resting?”

“this is me resting,” he says as a matter of fact, leaning down to give your lips a peck. “you are my rest.”

while it may be true that his body is begging for sleep, his mind is willing him to stay awake for as long as he can. he likes that he has nothing to prove here; he can simply be. you’re softly tracing his skin, forming constellations from the moles on his face, and he knows they’re created out of pure wonder and love.

“this one’s so cute!” you gush. “nobody talks about it enough.”

you place an affectionate kiss on the mole at the bridge of his nose.

“maybe because nobody has noticed it but you.”

you roll your eyes. “as if i’m the only one who spends their free time looking at your face.”

“but you’re the one who can view me in the highest quality.” he brings his face a little closer to tease you; noses almost brushing. “no one else can have me this close.”

“that’s right. or else you will never have me this close again.”

you squint your eyes at him as a threat; a frown making a permanent residence on your lips. fuck, when is he not thinking about kissing you?

“aigoo, look at you sulking!” he exclaims with a laugh.

“i’m not!”

“okay, whatever you say.” he replies in a sing-song voice.

it’s silent for a few beats as he engulfs you in his embrace. he feels like he’s being recharged, and with that comes along the overdue acknowledgement of his exhaustion. he meant it when he said that you are his rest.

“you know, i can’t help but to wonder sometimes.”

there is an undertone of hesitance in the way you spoke which is not typical of you. this prompts him to draw back a little, just enough to get a good look of your face.

“wonder about?”

“i’m not trying to put myself down or anything like that, by the way. i’m not expecting you to say the right thing or whatever either. i’m just-”

you pause, teeth nervously biting your lip. his heart aches in an instant when you avoid his eyes.

“i’m just genuinely curious? and saying what’s on my mind.”

“what is it?” he juts out his bottom lip. “you’re scaring me.”

“it’s not a big deal!”

“go on then. i’m listening.”

“i mean, i know i’m a catch, and- and i have a lot to offer, and i’m special in my own way. but you have a lot of…” you blink, trying to find the right term. “options.”

the word alone causes distaste to morph in his facial expression.

“okay, okay, i know! ugh, i don’t know how else to say it. but you have these beautiful and amazing people throwing themselves at you and sometimes i’m flabbergasted that you actively reject them for me.”

“baby, what are you even saying-”

“i’m serious. there are girls i would’ve totally gone for!”

“but they’re not you!”

he tilts your chin, smiling when at last, he recaptures your wide-eyed gaze.

“it’s really as simple as that.”

“but when we weren’t official yet-”

“i liked you from the start, if i didn’t make that obvious enough.”

you scrunch your cute nose; a smile of pure giddiness starting to form on your face. “you did… i knew.”

“i can’t believe you’re thinking about things like that. i only have eyes for you, baby. do you remember the first fight we had, huh? remember how i got drunk and cried?”

he doesn’t particularly like to relive the trauma and consequences of receiving unsolicited… almost naked… photos of an acquaintance while he’s watching a silly youtube video on his phone with his significant other. anything can be fixed in a relationship if both parties exert the effort, but trust, it is almost impossible to rebuild.

she didn’t know he was, is, in a relationship. in general, no one outside his inner circle really expects him to be in a relationship, or at least be in one that is serious or long-term. because, well, where would he find the time and energy for that kind of stuff?

but keeping you as a secret was his way of protecting you, and if you were hurting because of that, you didn’t show it.

oh, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t mad.

you needed some time to clear your head, you said. ignored his texts and phone calls; shooed him away when he begged at your front door. that issue may already been resolved, but he’s still not done proving that he’s solely committed to you.

you’re one of the most important people in his life. he loves you and he tends to get worried that you will never know much.

you gasp, hitting his chest. “when did that happen?!”

“why are you shocked…?” he narrows his eyes. “you didn’t know?”

“how would i know?”

he scratches his head in confusion. he should probably stop talking at this point and not dig his own grave, but his honesty leads him on. “…didn’t taehyungie-hyung send you a video? or did i make that up in my head?”

he immediately regrets it when the sparkle of mischief appears in your eyes.

“he’s still awake, right?”

“actually, he sleeps early nowadays!”

you wiggle out of his embrace, playfully sticking out your tongue at him. “i’ll go get the copy from him right now.”

“it was so long ago. it’s probably deleted by now!”

“wouldn’t hurt to check.”

“baby, no! it’s embarrassing!” he attempts to pull you back, but his hands barely reach you. “let’s just go to sleep, hm? didn’t you come here to put me to sleep?”

“aw, my love…”

he melts when you gingerly stroke his hair too. he will never live it down if his friends witnessed you babying him and him loving it.

“just close your eyes.”

and with your hand obstructing his vision, he sees pitch black and floating spots and flecks.

“i’ll be back in a minute! mwah!”

but despite his sense of sight being taken away, he still feels you spring off the mattress. the weight of your feet against the floor resonates along with the shout of your name as he follows you out of his bedroom.

you squeal in panic when you realize that you’re being chased. “go back to bed!”

“i won’t unless you go back with me!”

this is one of the instances in which jungkook is grateful for his gifts of athletic prowess and long limbs.

with little to no effort, he overtakes you in the race towards taehyung’s bedroom. doe eyes akin to a deer caught in the headlights, he swings the door open.

taehyung’s eyes flicker up from his phone. he’s frankly not surprised about the intrusion, not after hearing the commotion outside.

“need anything?”

“all the videos you have of him drunk!”

“hyung, no! you can’t give it!”

—

VII. THE CHOICE TO STAY

“give it to me.”

the blanket that jungkook carried from the bedroom is snatched away from his hands. it becomes unfurled and thrown over to shield your shivering vessel from the cold. without a word, he crawls on the couch and under the blanket, hugging you from behind as you catch up on your ongoing tv shows.

relief… he’s been looking forward to this all day.

the tension in his muscles, from head to toe, begin to fade away, especially as you take his hand in yours so you can give it a chaste kiss. it’s quick, but long enough for him to feel the softness of your lips. his hug tightens. he remains silent as he inhales, and exhales, slow and calm. he’s not trying to fall asleep as much as trying to shut down his brain. they say the world has stopped but from his point of view, it has erupted into chaos and he has no other choice but to watch it fall apart and to attempt to rebuild it at the same time. god knows he is doing the best he can but it feels like his best will never not be lacking.

jungkook is scared, and he is more scared knowing that everyone else is too. but for the past two years, whether you’re whole or broken, whether he’s climbing or falling— it never made a difference. you’ve always stayed.

he finds comfort in knowing that he has this constant among the ominous unknown.

his little firefly; your light won’t go out even as the world lets out its final sigh.

“my love, why are you sad?”

you flipped to your other side when another commercial break rolled in; now you’re hovering over him, curious eyes studying every inch of his face.

“is my love hurt anywhere?” you coo. “where should i kiss?”

his body shakes with quiet laughter as you pepper his face with kisses, trailing down to his jaw until you reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“or do you want a massage? here? know you had a looong day.”

“really? how’d you know?”

“yeah, ‘cause you haven’t showered. you’re all stinky.”

“oh, am i?” he playfully pinches your waist, which you react to with a drawn out whine. “and yet you’re still cuddling with me.”

“so? do you need my massage therapy services or not?!”

“no. i only need my lover, please.” he pleads with droopy eyelids, emphasizing his request by tangling his limbs with yours.

he can’t hide from you like he hides from himself. you’re much more gentler with his heart than he is; unconciously, he trusts you more with it.

“you have me. what’s wrong?”

your hands anchored on the sofa are swept away as he pulls you closer, your weight crashing down on him entirely. he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your natural scent and the lavender in your body wash.

“eh, it’s just work… everything that could go wrong is going wrong. we’re trying to figure things out, but what can we do really…? there’s nothing. i- this-this whole thing is just so fucking frustrating, baby. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not just work! it’s your reason for living. of course this is frustrating and painful for you. it’s understandable to feel that way.”

he can practically hear you pouting. he is proven right when you lift your head, leaning in to give him a kiss. he smiles against your lips. he loves you so much.

“so please don’t burn yourself out trying to be okay. you have me by your side who can help you carry your burdens.”

it was scary at the beginning, but now it only feels right. it is impossible not to love you with all of his heart and soul; you deserve nothing less and more than what he can give. when you hug him, he hugs you back tighter.

“you’re my reason to live too.”

“i shouldn’t be. what if i die before you?”

“yah, don’t says things like that!” he scolds you faster than he can think, eyebrows knitted together and frown a tad deeper. “you won’t. it won’t happen.”

“i will die eventually.” you grimace.

“please don’t say such things as ‘i want you to move on and meet someone else and fall in love again and remarry.’ i don’t want to hear it!” he rambles so fast that he doesn’t even understand himself, stumbling and lisping. “i will seriously cry!”

“oh, i don’t care for things like that.”

you make yourself more comfortable; your boyfriend as your own personal bed. sleeping on top of him has been a natural occurence these days, not that he minds. you’re so soft and warm. it’s like hugging a stuffed toy to sleep. still, he’s mindful of you falling off the couch again.

“do whatever you like.” your eyes meet as you bestow him with a smile. “i’ll be dead; i won’t even know what happens next.”

“you don’t care? huh…” he huffs over the hypothetical.

the mere consideration of it feels like cheating. he knows that it technically isn’t, but he can’t imagine spending the rest of his life with someone who isn’t you. nevertheless, if he was being honest and it was the other way around, he’d probably do tell you to leave your heart open. but the topic is not the other way around and jungkook’s heart is stubbornly bound to you.

“why am i getting upset?”

“i don’t care because i’m confident.” you say candidly. “you can fall in love with someone else, but no one will ever love you the way that i do.”

ah, and here comes a side of you that he knows and loves. he swears that cupid is in the room and his heart was just hit by another one of his arrows. it feels so good to be loved so fearlessly.

“i know, so why even bother?” he arrives at a conclusion to his defense, but there’s a much better solution. “please never ever leave me so i won’t have to deal with this dilemma.”

he catches you roll your eyes before he comes face-to-face with the back of your head. your cheek rests on top of his chest; he feels it above his beating heart.

“what then? are we supposed to die together?”

he hums in thought. “it’s not a totally bad idea. we live together, so wouldn’t that make sense too?”

“wow, very shakespearean of you.”

“oh, that’s right! see? isn’t this your type of thing? let’s do it!”

“oh my god, you’re so stupid.” you hide your face behind your hand, giggling in disbelief of the sharp turn this conversation took.

jungkook loves making you laugh. for a little while, he forgets everything else. the world outside may be terrifying but you have your own in your shared apartment. you’re his reason to live too. you ignite the life in his veins. you kiss him with an appetite for passion and love and he enters heaven on earth.

“thank you.” you mumble against his lips.

“thank you?”

“for loving me, for living with me…” your voice wavers and his heart drops to his stomach. he can hold back his tears, but never when he sees yours flowing. “even when you’re tired and having a hard time.”

“you make it sound like a chore, but the truth is loving you gives me the strength to work hard everyday. you do know that, right? baby?” he strokes your hair tenderly, hoping that you receive his sincerity. “i should be the one thanking you… i should say it more often. you didn’t give up on loving me even when it was hurting you.”

“it’s all in the past… you were hurting too.” you reply in a faint whisper. “i love you.”

cupid must owe him a tremendous favor to have granted him the purest form of love a human being could have.

he plants a kiss on your forehead, noticing the rise of your shoulders. an endearing thing they occasionally do when you’re happy, shy, or flattered. it’s one of the many things he learned about you since you started living under the same roof.

he’s been learning about himself too. he tried saving you from himself but this fact is now well-established— you are the sun; it only hurts him to push you away because you’re in everything. it’s the little things that will haunt him if lost. when pieced together, they declare that you love him and he loves you.

the words i’m going home have gained more meaning and he’s excited to say them at the end of each day. he talks about his day and you talk about yours. you find out he’s the reason your lotion ran out too fast again and you chase him around the apartment until he promises to buy you the biggest bottle. you play rock-paper-scissors to figure out who will wash the dishes or receive the food from the delivery guy. you watch too many cooking videos on his phone until one of you falls asleep. most of the time it’s you. tonight, it’s still you.

he must confess that up to this day, he admires you when you sleep. you are safe and sound, and he is mended in places he did not know existed.

it’s time to sleep, he also decides.

he cocoons you in the blanket, then provides another layer of warmth which is his body. once settled, he closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. “what’s the use of our giant bed if we keep on sleeping on the couch?”

—

(?). AN ETERNAL RECORD: MY TREASURE, MY LOVE (ARCHIVED)

[DEC 25 ‘17 02:12AM]

“is it rolling?”

“yes, it’s rolling.”

you excitedly look at the film camera from the thick pile of snow on the ground, moving your arms up and down and your legs from side to side. an attempt to create a snow angel.

your giggles and the crackles of the snow are heard through the speaker.

the lens zoom in on your face.

childlike joy in the form of an everlasting smile and snowflakes on your hair.

“am i doing it?!”

“you are!”

“really?”

“really!”

“is it pretty?”

your face comes out of the frame. for a second only the white snow is seen, and then the dark brown of your coat as you skip towards the camera.

“let me watch!”

the camera shakes before it pans to the ground.

rustling of clothes and a shy, panicked voice.

“hold on- i-i’ll just fix the…”

“why?”

“huh, what do i do?” a forced laugh to mask nervousness. “i think it didn’t save-”

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction

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joelscurls · 3 months

Text

stalemate

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

words: 7.2k

summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.

warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)

Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out.

Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do.

Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.

He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.

Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.

You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter.

“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”

After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.

Especially Frankie.

Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that—

“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.

It was you who kissed him first.

He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.

And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”

It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.

The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.

You wish you could forget it.

The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.

Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right.

You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.

Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship?

Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating.

Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend.

It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds.

Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.

It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.

Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool.

Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.

Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.

“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”

You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”

Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.

When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.

You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash.

When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.

Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down.

You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?

You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.

He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.

Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking.

It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.

He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie. His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him.

Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need.

You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.

“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically.

“Ah — that’s alright.”

He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—

“You here all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”

“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”

“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”

You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.

“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”

You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.

Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.

“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”

Too fucking easy.

“Sure,” you giggle.

He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him?

But then you think of Frankie inside — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.

Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.

He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly.

He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too.

Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.

You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.

You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.

Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”

Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.

The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—

“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”

“Excuse me?” you scoff.

Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?”

He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes.

“What are you, my keeper?”

“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”

You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?

“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”

He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.

Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks.

You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”

Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone.

Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.

Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.

The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.

Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink.

He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline.

“You always up this early?”

You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.

He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”

“I could stick around and help,” he offers.

Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.

“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again.

If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.

It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.

The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.

A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke.

Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver.

And then-

I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.

How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.

He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.

So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion.

You enter the house with baited breath.

Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all.

“Hi,” you try.

He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.

“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”

“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”

You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.

You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.

Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming.

“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”

With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.

You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans.

“Hey,” you announce.

She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm.

You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other.

“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement.

“Yeah. I said I would be.”

“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…”

“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”

She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”

It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.

Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.

The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.

It starts during the second round of Charades.

The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.

It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.

And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.

Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of.

He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.

You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod.

“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”

“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”

You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively.

“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”

“Please,” Frankie sneers.

“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”

“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”

Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”

You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.

“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”

Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.

“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct.

You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it.

“Seriously, why?”

He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.

“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally.

You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”

His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.

“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”

“He’s the one-“

“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.

Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed.

“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”

Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.

You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh.

“Fine,” you both say at once.

“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway.

Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?

The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?

Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker.

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss.

He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”

He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.

“I wasn’t trying to be-”

You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”

The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.

“No.”

You quirk a brow at him, confused.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”

You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past.

He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”

Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”

He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”

“And did it?”

“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.”

His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.

“Why not?” you squeak.

He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.

“Because she wasn’t you.”

It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis.

Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat.

For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies.

And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.

“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you.

“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”

His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton.

Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”

You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand.

There you go baby, that’s it; I got you.

You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.

You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“

The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”

Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest.

You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please fuck me.”

He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.

You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want.

In the end, he can’t help himself.

“Can you be quiet, querida?”

You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.

He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls.

You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.

He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.

Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant.

“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.

“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside.

“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“

He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.

“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”

“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium.

Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below.

He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.

It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again.

He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”

“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”

You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.

“So fucking beautiful, you know that?”

Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.

“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.

He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”

“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.”

It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.

As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away.

“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”

He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky.

“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”

You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin.

“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.

“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact.

“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.

“What do you mean?”

He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.

“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.”

Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.

The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.

An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right.

He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”

“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.

“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist.

You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”

“That can be arranged.”

end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)

#Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales x f!reader #Frankie Morales x female reader #Frankie Morales fic #Frankie Morales smut #Frankie Morales fanfiction #Triple Frontier #Triple Frontier fic #Triple Frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut

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astrxealis · 1 year

Text

the urge to live someplace that isn’t the fucking philippines bcs it sucks here for so many reasons but also there is ffxiv in a bookstore elsewhere!! wow!!!

#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚#a ffxiv popup exhibit in singapore WHAT ... i'm pretty sure a family member is in sinagpore rn oh my god #she's there for a distant worlds concert iirc ... i hope listening to the music might bring her into 14 :(( she likes other final fantasies #but she isn't into 14 (yet) :((#i think my biggest contender for where i'll live in the future is australia tbh :] my xiv friend from twt is also there #and she said she'd be really glad to welcome us if ever we do live there in the future so <333 #also i have other xiv friends considering i am on oce data center LMFAO #tbh i could go to eu or u.s. or aus and have friends which is really nice #but man i ofc wld miss the ph but. i really don't want to stick here #i just had the realization i can ask my relative to buy us something there oh my god #she literally offered on our bday 'i'm going to singapore so if you want a book just tell me!'#and okay i was going to ask her for paradise lost and the other shit but we got that a few days ago w our own money so like #ffxiv encyclopedia ... i can have g'raha tia in my house ............. you get what i mean okay

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nochukoo97 · 7 months

Text

beside you

pairing: idol!jungkook x gf!reader

summary: you miss your boyfriend after not seeing him for a long time, so who could blame you if you couldn’t resist him once you saw him?

warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, dom!jk, sub!oc, established relationship, oc is a little whiny and desperate oops, riding, missionary, oc has an iud but it isn’t mentioned, lots of kissing, jk buys oc a pair of ck underwear 🥹, aftercare, jk calls her pretty girl and baby :((, they miss each other so much, a little i love you moment halfway :))

word count: 2.1k+

beside you; keshi: it’s just you and i, and no other guys, we got no interruptions and we both feelin’ the vibe

You find yourself sitting in a random coffee shop, your mood clouded by a deep sense of longing. Your fingers trace the rim of the coffee cup, the warm ceramic comforting in your hands. Leaning your head against your palm, you release a heavy sigh, your eyes fixated on the half-diluted coffee that you had paid an hefty price for, “I miss my boyfriend,”

Beside you, Chaeyong, your roommate of four years, gives you an amused look. She rolls her eyes playfully and nudges the plate of pastries closer, urging you to take another bite.

Chaeyong's comment brings a pout to your lips. “You say that every time he's out of your sight,” she remarks, her voice tinged with affectionate exasperation.

A small whine of frustration escapes your lips as you respond, “But I was so excited to see him yesterday when he landed in the evening, and I fell asleep! And by the time I woke up this morning, he had left for another schedule.”

Chaeyong tries to console your sullen mood, “But you'll see him later today, right?”

You nod, but it's accompanied by another heavy sigh. The mere thought of having to wait a little longer to be reunited with Jungkook deepens your yearning for him. Your heart aches with the anticipation of the moment when you can finally hold him close and simply spend time with him.

You’ve been separated from Jungkook for a good week or so because of his promotions in America, and as much as you tried to keep an optimistic mindset while living away from your boyfriend, there was a major part of you that simply craved for his presence to be back.

For example, when you ate breakfast in the morning, there was no Jungkook sitting beside you to annoy you with the most random facts he’s learnt, or throughout the day, there was no Jungkook singing random tunes to songs that filled the apartment, and most of all, there was no Jungkook to cuddle up next to you and help you sleep.

Frankly, the dark under eyes clearly showing through your skin is evident of Jungkook’s absence for the past week. It’s been more than rough for you, considering you’ve been spoilt by Jungkook’s cooking that a mere packet of instant noodles can even taste bland.

“Then just text him to see when you can meet,” Chaeyong is a genius, you didn’t think of that.

you: hi baby

you: i miss you :((((((((((

Chaeyong’s been curiously peering at your phone screen, as you type out a message to your boyfriend. A wry grin tugs at your lips, but your amusement quickly turns into a grumble as her scrutinizing eyes zero in on your texting style.

“Yuck, that’s how you text him?” She inquires, her tone mixed with amusement and faux disgust.

“Get a boyfriend and then you’ll understand,” You scoff, retorting at her as you kick her shin from under the table, earning a hiss from your roommate.

jungkook: hi my pretty girl :)

jungkook: miss you too

jungkook: just finished my filming and im done for the day, wanna come over to my studio? 😘

“This is the part where I get abandoned here isn’t it,” Chaeyong deadpans as she reads the text Jungkook had sent back, the text itself already making you light up and gasp in excitement.

“Chaeyong,” You look her directly in the eyes, pleading with your roommate, “You know how much I love you but right now, I need to get to my boyfriend like asap,”

“Fine, fine, go ahead, you better do the same for me when I get a boyfriend,” She rolls her eyes at you, as you quickly spew a string of thank-you-you’re-the-best-in-the-whole-wide-world, before grabbing your bag to drive over to his company building.

Breathless and filled with anticipation, you swing the door to Jungkook's studio open, paying no heed to the quiet click of the latch. The space is awash in a soft glow from the artistic lamps scattered across the room. Your heart races as you spot your boyfriend, Jungkook, sitting in the swivel chair in front of his cluttered desk.

Eager and almost stumbling in your haste, you bound towards him, your footsteps echoing throughout the studio. The swivel chair creaks ever so slightly as you launch yourself into his lap, an exclamation escaping your lips.

“Hi, oof-” He huffs when you jump into his lap, arms wrapping around his muscular back as you sigh in relief.

Jungkook smiles at you affectionately, his face illuminated with a soft glow from his monitor that he had been previously focused on, but your sudden arrival was a much better thing to concentrate on at this point.

“Hi pretty girl,” He greets you properly this time, his own arms wrapping around your smaller body as he chuckles at your playful behaviour.

“Did you have fun? You’re all dressed up,” Your boyfriend takes notice of the flowy dress you’re wearing, the light makeup you had put on and how your hair had been parted half up half down. Jungkook thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, the sight of you all dolled up does things to his heart.

“Yeah, me and Chaeyong went to a cafe, but goddamn the coffee was not worth it,” You begin to ramble on about the aesthetic looking cafe, filled with cute little plants and flowers and even a cat, and Jungkook listens attentively, watching your expression switch each time you talk.

“And she helped me take pictures for my Instagram too,” You tell him, arms wrapping around his neck as you touch your nose with his for a split second.

“Yeah? Show me them,” He muses, waiting for you to retrieve your phone from the bag that had been hastily thrown onto his couch in the studio, right before you had launched yourself onto him.

“Later,” A whine pulls from your throat as you inch closer to him, if that was even possible, your legs hanging from either side of his thighs as you straddle his lap, “I missed you so much,”

“Missed you too baby,” He mumbles against your lip as you lean down to kiss him, a little more desperate than usual.

Jungkook bites onto your bottom lip mid-kiss, making you part your lips with a soft gasp in surprise, he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue in, hands reaching to hold the back of your neck.

You feel the heat rushing down, it’s been a week since you had last kissed Jungkook, a week since you’ve been in physical contact with him. At this point you’re so desperate for him you don’t try to hide it, softly grinding against his growing bulge under his jeans, making the man under you groan.

“Such a little minx,” His hands fall down to slip under the hem of your dress, stroking your thighs gently as you whine into the kiss.

“Need you,” You’re panting against his lips, desperate for him to do something, anything, you’ll take anything at this point, “Please,”

“Yeah? Tell me what you want baby,” He squeezes your waist, doing nothing but sitting there with a stupid grin while you rut against him desperately, slick soaking through your panties already.

“Kook,” Another whine escapes your mouth as you shamelessly let out a soft moan when you grind over a particular spot that rubs your sensitive clit. Fuck, you’re about to go crazy from all the teasing he’s doing.

“Tell me pretty girl, use your words,”

“Want to ride you,” You pant some more, head buried into his neck as you gasp when he shuffles a little under you.

You tug at his shirt, signaling for him to remove it as you remove your dress at the same time, exposing the CK underwear set he had bought you recently.

“Fuck, my pretty girl,” Jungkook might just be drooling at the sight in front of him, you’re insane for showing up to his studio and making him so desperate for you.

He slides a finger along your covered slit, hissing when the wet fabric touches his skin. You don’t give him time to comment on anything, crashing your lips back in his as you tug his pants and underwear off, making him do the same for you after.

“Let me stretch you out baby,” He whispers against your ear, hissing when your hand wraps around the base of his cock.

“No, ‘sokay, I just need you now,” Your whining at this point because all you want is Jungkook’s cock buried in your dripping cunt, but he’s been purposefully riling you up and teasing you so much, you’ll take matters into your own hands.

He gives you an amused smile, clearly entertained by this new side of you, desperate for his touch.

You angle his cock towards your slit as you slowly sink down, gasps coming from both of your mouths.

“Fuck- So tight-” Jungkook grits through his teeth, hands finding their way to your bare ass as he gives it a tight squeeze, before reaching back up to unclasp your bra.

You support your weight by pressing your palms against his bare chest, moving upwards before sinking back down on his cock, moans from the both of you sounding throughout his studio, but thank goodness for his soundproof walls, or the both of you would have been caught by now.

“Baby, please, more,” Jungkook coos at you in a whiny state, his own cock throbbing as your hole clenches around it over and over again.

He lifts the both of you up, shoves your bag away before placing you down on the couch, his much larger body now hovering over yours.

“Hnnghh!” A muffled moan emits from you as Jungkook ruts into your soaking pussy, head lowering down to kiss you deeply. Your sensations are all over the place, body sensitive and overstimulated from not having any action for the past week.

“Yeah? Good baby?” He whispers, making you nod in response. Jungkook watches in awe as your eyes roll back at a particular thrust, your hair forming a halo around your head, lips swollen as you take all of him.

“S-So good, so fucking good, I love you-” You’re a mess, stuttering over your words as your boyfriend fucks you into oblivion, his cock thrusting into that sensitive spot inside you that makes your thighs shake in pleasure.

“I love you,” He kisses down the valley of your breasts, thrusts increasing in speed as the both of you reach closer to your climax. Jungkook’s moans get louder, his groans more throaty as his eyebrows furrow.

“So close, so close, please! Hah-” You think you’re drooling right now, he’s hitting all the right spots, making your vision go blurry as you’re overwhelmed with pleasure.

With one particular harsh thrust, he lets out a guttural groan from above you as the both of your climax, his warm seed shooting into your pussy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Jungkook’s almost whining as he ruts into you, desperate pants leave his mouth as his thrusts slow down, pulling out, his body collapsing on top of you as he catches his breath.

“Shit, you’re insane,” He pants, head burying into your neck as you giggle at his hair that tickles your skin slightly, “Did so well for me baby, so good,”

“Feel so good, missed you,” You whisper, hands roaming his back as you soothe the scratches from your sharp nails that painted his back.

“And your cock,” You add on, making Jungkook snort above you.

“Couldn’t tell at all baby,” He muses, lifting his head to peck your cheek, then the corner of your lips. “We need to clean up,” He sighs, watching some of his cum slowly drip out, threatening to fall onto his couch.

You let Jungkook get off you, watching as he quickly fetches the wet wipes that he keeps on his desk, gently cleaning you up as he peppers kisses to your stomach.

“Best welcome back present I’ve received to be honest, 10/10,” He teases you as he hands back your clothes, helping you put them back on.

“What about that time when I literally surprised you with a cake?” You nudge his bare shoulder, a faux frown plastered on your face.

“Baby, the cake was half raw, we both had food poisoning for a week after that,” He taunts you, making you gasp dramatically.

“It’s the thought that counts! You try to make a cake from scratch then!”

“Deal, I’ll bake you a cake tonight, watch out, because I’ve been watching a ton of Nailed It!” He tells you, pulling his shirt over his head to put it back on.

Jungkook does indeed bake the best tasting cake you’ve ever eaten in your life, proving your point wrong.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook ff #jungkook smut #jungkook x oc #bts ff #bts #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios

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rklve · 8 months

Text

RAINY DAYS | JEON JUNGKOOK - PART ONE

summary: your life choices left not only yours, but jungkook's heart broken in peaces. now you're back in town, and just like pluto, even if it's cold and dark, he tends to orbit around his sun forever.

➣ pairing: jk x f!reader

➣ genre/au: exes to lovers; angst; slow burn; fluff; smut (eventually).

➣ 3.4k words

warnings: e2l. oc broke koo's heart :( but she did not mean it. they both overthink too much. jk is such a pet dad (BAM IS HERE YAY). oc is a confused mess. mutual pining. cursing. a lot of angst (sorry!). jungkook is a simp, head over hells crazy about oc. fluff bc why not. tae is bitter asf but he's right on this one. jk is the best boy I WANT HIM!!!!!!!!!!

song inspo: rainy days — V

wish I knew how to find the way right back to you, on rainy days like

part one | part two | drabble one

“I can't take it anymore,” Jungkook says as he stumbles for the seventh time on his feet walking around the living room “I’m losing my mind, Bamie.”

The dog looks at his owner with his head pointed sideways as if he understands what he’s been sorrowing about for the past 10 minutes. The rain pours angrily outside the apartment, Jungkook sighs as he realizes talking to his big ass puppy won’t solve any of his problems.

“She’s like, 5 min away from us, Bam! I should text her, right?”

He looks over his phone again, your instagram story is open and a picture of a window full of raindrops is seen — he knows where you’re at, you’ve both been to that coffee shop over a hundred times for the past years now. Can’t remember the last time he’s been to that place ‘cause he couldn’t stand the thought of being there without you. Now he’s wondering, wondering, wondering. Wonders if you’re back for real this time. If you are alone. If you are thinking about him too. Wonders what would happen if he just replied your story right now.

@jeonjk97: heard it’s the best caramel macchiato in town 👍

No— that’s too lame. Quickly erases the message.

@jeonjk97: want a ride home? it’s pretty bad outside.

Throws his phone on the sofa as he realizes he doesn’t know if you would accept his offer, doesn’t know if you’re sharing an apartment with Lola again either. Realizes he doesn’t know anything that’s been going on with you for a while now. More than what you let your 897 followers on Insta know too, at least. Blames himself for it, but knows it was for the best. Misses you like a fucker anyway.

“I should just call her.”

He picks up his phone, then also realizes he deleted your number months ago so he wouldn’t call you whenever his drunk ass thought it was the right thing to do.

“For fucks sake, grow some balls, Jungkook” he whines angrily at the air purifier as if it is the source of his problems. “Okay, Taehyung will know what do.”

He calls his best friend quickly, and prays Taehyung picks up before he grabs his car keys and drives himself to the colorful little cafe at the end of the street. Remembers how much you loved that place and the cookies they served. One caramel macchiato with extra topping and two medium chocolate cookies. You always ordered the same thing. Every damn time. Said it was in you, to never let go of the things you loved. You let go of him anyway.

“Jungkook-ah! Why are you calling? I told you I can't go out—“

“She’s back in town.” He cuts Taehyung abruptly and suddenly the other line is mute as well. Probably doesn’t believe it’s happening just as Jungkook didn’t believe himself minutes ago.

“Man, are you sure? Like, back for real?” he says, and Jungkook swears he can hear the disbelief in his tone from the other side. Yeah, he knows Taehyung is full of his late night calls to talk about you. Knows he is the one that’s been listening to it for months now —besides from his dobermann, of course— he’s the one who gets it, ‘cause he’s the only one who feels bitterly betrayed too. You were one of his best friends and yet, he didn’t knew your plans to move out from Busan as well.

“Aish, I’m not sure hyung. But she posted a picture a little while ago at the cafe down the street.” he blurted out, “Can’t even think straight now, man. You think she’s back for the holidays?”

Taehyung wondered for a little while. It was still August, Chuseok was weeks later. He didn’t say it out loud, but it wasn’t like you to drop work for so long, even if it was to visit your hometown. Nevertheless, he didn’t want Jungkook to get his hopes up. He knows how he is. Doesn’t want to see his friend’s heart breaking all over again.

“Mmm. Maybe, don’t know.” he sighed out loud “I thought we agreed to unfollow her after the second month.”

He hears Jungkook’s sad chuckle on the other side of the line, “Yeah, we did.”

Taehyung knows Jungkook wouldn’t bring himself to do it tho, and now he just confirms it. Being a little bit more resentful than Jungkook gave him the motivation to do so, but it doesn’t mean he hasn’t been missin’ your ugly face.

“Ok, so I need you to refresh my mind now. Tell me something so I won’t step outside that door right this second and make a fool of myself.” Jungkook continues to talk as if he’s been charged on 220W. And maybe he was. His heart has never beaten so fast for the past twelve months. His hair is all over the place from the countless times he grabbed it since he saw your photo. The tip of his fingers are tingling. Yeah, maybe he’s been electrocuted or something.

“Go.”

“What?” Jungkook says in disbelief. Doesn’t think he hears straight, ‘cause Taehyung would be the last one to say such a thing.

“I said go, Jungkook.” he sighs for what it seems to be the tenth time on the phone call. “I know you need this. You haven’t been yourself for so long now. You two have to talk properly at some point.”

“Ay, how frustratin really—” he tsks.

“For real, man. Go. Now.” he firmly says “What’s the worst she can do, leave?” Jungkook senses the bitter words coming from Taehyung’s mouth. He knows he’s not mad at you, just hurt. Knows Taehyung would forgive you in a heartbeat if you said how sorry you were for everything that went thru. Wonders if he would forgive you that easily too. But he knows his friend is right. He needs closure. Needs this.

“Yeah. Right.” he bites his lips and looks around. Sees Bam looking at him, as if he’s expecting an action from him too. “I’ll talk to you later, bro. Thanks.”

He turns off the phone and grabs his car keys tightly. Yeah, he’s doing it. Won’t think too much, it’s better this way. He will get in the car, drive for 5 minutes. Enter the coffee shop. Order. Pretend he doesn’t know you’re there. Eventually look over the spot he knows you’re at, the same table over the corner where you two always used to sit together, by the large window. Grab the coffee and go over casually, ask how you’ve been. Offer you a ride home —to your parents, probably, since you moved out from your apartment on the neighborhood for a while now. Say it’s because of the rain, he knows you hate to ask for Ubers on the rain. Didn’t trust just anyone driving on bad weather. Such a smart girl. He misses the shit out of you.

“Damn, ok. Pack it up, man.”

He calls Bam to his house and watches as the dog quickly follow his lead, as if he knows Jungkook is too anxious to play around right now. “Dad will be back soon, okay? Behave.”

And so he checks out his hair one last time on the mirror at his bathroom and goes before he changes his mind.

The drive is pretty quick. It’s actually a route he does walking, but it’s still pouring rain so he’s carrying on. On a rainy day. To a coffee shop. To get a coffee he could have made at the comfort of his home with his own little coffee machine. But it’s okay, he will just play pretend for this time.

He stops the car and just realizes he forgot his umbrella. “Are you fucking serious, Jungkook?”

Great. Brilliant. He feels so fucking dumb right now.

Thankfully, due to the cold season he was wearing his black sweatshirt and sweatpants so the rain wouldn’t do so much damage. He quickly got off the car and ran inside the cafe.

Surprisingly, it was full for a rainy night. Perhaps everyone had the usual thought; too lazy to make their own foods, they step out to grab something warm on the best coffee in the neighborhood.

Jungkook plays the script on his head over and over again as he whipes his hair side to side like a fluffy dog to get rid of the water that soaked it a little bit.

He looks ahead to the counter and his mind goes blank as he sees you over there now. At the little chair on the middle of the cafe. You seem lonely, messing with your hair a little bit, making a braid with a single tiny lock. It’s an old habit to make time pass, and Jungkook hates he remembers every little detail about you. His heart now has stopped, dropped to his knees. He really misses you.

“Bee!” the waiter calls, and Jungkook recognizes the nickname. Knows it’s you, ‘cause he’s the one that gave it to you years ago. Used to call you bee just to make fun of you, ‘cause you’re such a sweet tooth. Never met someone that loves sugar more than you do, so he started to call you that since you two became friends.

He watches at the end of the waiting line as you get up, straight your hand and pick up two cookies in a little pink plate. Chocolate chips cookies. Your favorite. His favorite as well.

You start to eat slowly so he averts his eyes. Doesn’t want to be catch staring and look like a fucking weirdo. It’s not like he drove here to see you. Talk to you. Not at all, the coffee here is great.

Finally the line walks and it’s his turn. “One black coffee, please. No sugar.” He says softly and suddenly feels his neck start to tingle. Knows you just realized he’s here, and you’re staring at him. Pretends he doesn’t tho, so continues to talk to the waitress as she asks who she would call when it’s ready “JK.” he says, then turns around to look for somewhere to sit and wait for the order. Looks over the table that you originally were, the one you posted a photo of. Then realizes now there’s a couple there, laughing together and taking pics of each other. He knows you. Knows you most likely offered the clingy couple the table, cause the house is full, and you wouldn’t take the table just for yourself. Even if it meant you would end up eating by the counter on the little puffed chair, you loved to drool over the pastries anyways.

He slowly looks the other way. Knows you’re on this direction so he has to be careful. You’re looking down. Seem sad all of the sudden and he just wants to hug you. For fucks sake. This is harder than he thought.

He sighs again as he realizes the only spots available are the 2 chairs on your right. He chooses the one that’s a little bit far just to be safe.

As he walks down, his chest tightens a little bit more. Now he doesn’t know what he’s doing here. It was a bad idea. Doesn’t even remember what the plan was at the first place.

He can smell your perfume as he walks past you and it’s like someone punches his stomach. Your sweet smell fills his nostrils and he just wants to be closer. Shove his nose on your hair like he used to. Then go down your neck and feel your skin respond with little goosebumps as he moves along it softly. Damn it. Jungkook wants to curse the life out of you but he can’t even bring himself to be mad right now. Only knows he misses you. Your touch. Your kiss. You.

Finally he sits and pretends as if he didn’t notice you there, continually looking over his phone as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world trying to figure out what to do next.

“JK!” The waitress calls him and he’s put out of his own world, looking up right away. You seem to be startled too as you look directly at him. You two look at each other for what seems to be minutes in a trance. You give him a tiny smile. He gives one back.

“JK!” he hears the call again and pulls himself out of the trance, going to grab the coffee from the waitress who’s on your left side. He pays for it and looks at you again. You’re still looking at him. Kinda unsure on how to act, he figures. It’s okay, cause he doesn’t know how to either.

As he sits, now on the chair closer to your right, he looks straight ahead and takes a gulp of the coffee. “Fuck!” he curses and pulls the coffee cup away as he burns his tongue with the damn thing.

You laugh thru your nose and his ears rapidly catch the sweet sound he used to hear all the time. Looks sideways to you, “Funny, huh?” he feels the air a little bit less heavy now, and he’s relieved.

“You just never change, Koo.” you say, still with that damn smile on your face he adores so much. He can’t take his eyes off of you. Realizes he never got over you, not even for a second. Probably never will.

“Don’t call me that.” those damned butterflies on his guts as he digests what you’ve said. You know it’s his favorite nickname. Knows only you call him by it. Knows he melts alway with this shit everytime.

You’re staring at him like that. So pretty. Soft brown sparkly eyes he missed so much. Now they seem to start hardening. “I’m sorry.” You say with a broken voice, and he feels the air shift all over again in a matter of seconds. Doesn’t know if you’re apologizing for the sweet nickname. For leaving him. For not calling. For not coming back. For everything.

“How’s everything?” He tries to ease the air back again. “It’s been a minute.”

He sees the corner of your lips tremble a little bit and you gulp. His chest pangs. Wonders if he did the right thing by pretending you never existed for the past months now. Just wants to make up for all the time both of you lost.

“Yup, it has.” You reply after a while. “I’m doing okay. What about you?”

You look up at him like everything is okay. If he didn’t know you, he would believe you were. But he knows better. You can’t hide anything from him, really. At least that’s what he thought. Knows he could be wrong, just like he was a year ago too.

“Cool. I’m cool.” he licks his dry lips and starts to think about his next move. Mind starts to blow up, a trillion thoughts at the same time and he’s back at it again. Can’t put his neurons to work properly. You’re actually right here in front of him, how is he supposed to?

Seems like you’re struggling yourself too. He doesn’t know if you’re trying to come up with an excuse to leave right now, or trying to find a subject in common as well.

You stare at your now half eaten cookie like it’s the most valuable thing in the world. The other one is already on the bag to go. You probably were planning on taking home to eat when the late night sweet crave hits you, like he remembers. Will put it on the microwave so it gets warm again and take a cup of milk with you, like you used to. Turn on netflix and watch one of those lame cooking programs, ‘cause you loved to waste your time watching people losing their heads to make giant chocolate sculptures. He secretly loved watching it with you. It’s the reason he watched every episode back and forth while you were away too.

“Is Bamie okay?” you murmur, now staring at your coffee cup with a little smile, thinking about the little puppy. Remembers how energetic and loving he was. Just like Jungkook. “You haven’t posted him in a while now.”

His tongue feels bittersweet again. He’s somehow happy knowing that you’ve been catching up with his life throught social media, even tho he disappears once in a while. At the same time, he’s sad. You could have been there for Bam. Should have, since you are the one who came up with the idea in the first place. Said he needed a little friend to match up with his chaotic energy. He ended up convinced and adopted the little guy. You always tended to get the best of him. Promised you’d help him to take good care of the baby, but only spent three months with Bam. Still, it’s like the puppy knows something is missing. Every night he looks over the door at any noise, like he’s expecting you to come throught it. Just like Jungkook used to do for the first months back then.

“He’s great, actually. Bigger than I expected him to be. Eats like a fucking bear.” he giggles a little remembering his big boy. “He’s loud too. Don’t know how the neighbors still haven’t ganged up against me to kick us out of the apartment.”

You giggle alongside him imagining the chaos those two must have been doing together. “I figured. You always have spoiled him too much. Told ya he would get bad habits.”

“Hey! You spoiled him too!” he throws it right back. Remembers how you used to let Bam sleep with the two of you on bed. It took him months to break that habit from the puppy’s routine.

You look up at him and smiles. Bright now. You know he’s right. You’ve treated that puppy like it was your own son. Kinda misses the three of you together like a big happy family.

Suddenly a loud thunder is heard and both of you look out the foggy window at the same time. The sky is even darker now, angrily pouring rain like it’s the end of the earth. The coffee shop is emptier. Everyone outside your bubble must’ve realized that it was no longer safe to be out in the streets. But here you two are. Letting time pass by, enjoying each others presence even if it’s kinda weird. Kinda sad after all these months apart.

Jungkook knows it’s time to act. Step up and do what he was planning since he left home. Can’t bring himself to. Is too scared you will say no. Too scared you will let him down again.

“I think I should get going.” you say softly wrapping up what is left of the cookie and putting it on your bag over the counter. “The weather is getting worst.”

“Want a ride home?” Jungkook quickly says before he looses the sudden courage. Sees you're taken aback so he continues, “I know you won’t be able to catch an uber or taxi right now.”

You still wonder a little bit. Jungkook’s anxiety is bubbling up again as he waits your answer. Why can’t you accept a simple offer? You can’t stand the thought of being around him? Do you hate him? Perhaps you don’t want him in your life ever again. You want to stay like this. Just be somebody that he used to know.

And that’s what scares him the most.

“I brought an umbrella” you finally say. Jungkook frowns. Knows you have no umbrella with you, he would’ve seen it by now.

He puffs. Knows it’s bullshit, but won’t call it. “Right. Suit yourself.” Then he gets up, forgets his full coffee by the counter, now cold. He feels fucking cold too. Already regrets coming to this stupid cafe, in this stupid weather, for no stupid reason. He takes his sweatshirt off and puts it over his head so the rain won’t get to him this time. Opens the door.

“Jungkook! Wait!” you suddenly say. “I actually didn’t.” you say pouty, coming up to him.

He doesn’t say anything. Just takes his sweatshirt, puts it over your head instead. He was wearing his taegeuk warriors jersey underneath it, will definitely get soacked but can’t bring himself to care at all. Just cares about you. Holds the glass door for you just like old times. You look up at him with your big doll eyes and he can’t do anything but look back. It’s like you want to talk through them. He wonders what’s going through your pretty little head right now. Probably overthinking too much, just like he does.

“C’mon," he softly says "Let’s get you home.”

yayyy there it goes! my first ff ever i'm so happy <3 this was supposed to be an oneshot but i got carried away and wrote more than i expected so i had to cut it off hehe

also, please be aware that english is not my native language so i’m sorry if there’s any typos 🥹

i'll upload part 2 soon! if you want to be tagged pls comment under the post :) thanks for reading xx

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hannieehaee · 1 month

Note

Can I request this? A wonwoo oneshot where they had a fight at the company which leads to the oc to storm out and later wonwoo finds out that on the way home she got really sick but at the moment the oc is in the library. So wonwoo mission is to get the oc out of there but she’s giving him the silent treatment somehow😁

content: established relationship, idol!wonwoo, afab reader, public argument, angst, fluff, etc.

wc: 987

a/n: i did my best to include all the main details of the prompt into a short drabble i hope u enjoy<3

masterlist

you knew you were being quite immature.

yeah, it was just a small altercation with wonwoo over some small thing, but that had just been what it snowballed into.

it had only been a few days since wonwoo got back from tour, having been gone for a few weeks with limited contact with you due to timezones and his packed schedule. you understood. you were no newbie at this. by now it had been a while since you had began dating wonwoo, so you were already an expert on the ins and outs of dating an idol. however, you still demanded some type of attention.

when wonwoo finally arrived, you had expected that maybe he'd try a little harder to spend time with you. while you understood that he was likely very tired from touring, seeing the way in which he isolated himself rather than dedicate at least a bit of his free time to you did hurt your feelings.

had he not missed you as much as you did him?

this led to a one-sided silent treatment. he, of course, didn't really notice as the two of you weren't spending much time together anyways. though you were still on speaking terms with him, you were very curt and short in your interactions. something which he, yet again, had no reaction to.

which is what led to an embarrassing argument just a few hours ago. at the company. in front of his members.

it wasn't anything too big. it was mostly complaints about his terrible time management when it cane to sustaining your relationship. already hurt and having made the mistake of not communicating your issues to your boyfriend, you snapped when you stopped by the company to get lunch with him, only to be told he already had plans with his members.

after an embarrassing rant in front of half of seventeen, you stormed out, leaving a very confused wonwoo behind and finally allowing him to realize that he had unknowingly iced you out.

it felt like shit, to be quite honest. you felt invisible to him. was picking a fight the only way to get him to react?

things weren't always like this. wonwoo had always been the most comforting person you'd known. maybe he was a little reserved and shy at times, but he was always showing you his unconditional love. whether it was through his words or through silent acts of affection, he had never made you feel unwanted or ignored.

even when he'd return from a tiring tour, he'd isolate himself with you. you'd lock yourselves away from the world and simply exist with one another, encompassing each other in the love you shared. this time around, wonwoo had somehow forgotten about you, simply sharing a living space with you rather than being your home.

the worst thing was that he was entirely unaware. the moment you confronted him, you could see the shock in his eyes. wonwoo hadn't even realized he had been withholding himself from you emotionally. the more frustrated your voice grew as you ranted, the more his confusion transformed into hurt. he was hurt at the realization that you'd been hurting because of him – all while he thought everything was fine.

this made you feel miserable as soon as you made your way out of the company. fully aware that you should've communicated your distress to him earlier, you still left, embarrassed at the scene you caused and hurt that he hadn't considered your feelings until you shoved them in his face.

was it so wrong of you to have wanted him to realize on his own? you thought he knew you better than anyone, so it shouldn't have been too difficult a task to realize. right?

and now you were alone.

upon leaving the scene, teary eyed and embarrassed that you had shown such a vulnerable part of yourself in such a public setting, – in front of some of his friends, at that – you went to the place that brought you most comfort. you needed silence, so you went to a secluded library in town.

you and wonwoo would sometimes frequent this place. as both a bookworm and the girlfriend of a popular idol, this was one of the only places you could really go with wonwoo. it was secluded and quiet, meaning that you could simply exist around each other while not being perceived by anyone else. the memory of your times together there made you feel unable to concentrate, so you simply sat in silence for a while.

it wasn't too difficult for wonwoo to find you there. he had assumed you wouldn't just go back home, so he searched from you in places he knew you loved. this had been his second guess, right after the han river, where you would sometimes walk together at night.

sitting in your usual spot, wonwoo quietly approached you, sitting next to you. neither of you said anything. the first contact between you two came in the form of wonwoo's pinky seeking your own, twisting it with yours in a sweet manner. there was no way for you to deny him, so you humored him, eventually holding his hand as his fingers graced your own.

"im sorry," he whispered, looking down at his lap.

"yeah?", you whispered back.

"i take you for granted sometimes. you wait for me here and you put up with my hectic life and i ... i forget that i should reassure you of my love. im so sure of how i feel about you that i forget to let you know every single day. it wont happen again," he finished, eyes now boring into yours.

"can you say it?"

"i love you. you'll never have to ask me again. okay? i love you."

"i love you too."

"let me take you home?" he asked, leaning into you as you sat side by side.

"yeah."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagine #svt #seventeen oneshot #svt oneshot #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo oneshot #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo angst #wonwoo x reader

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chryblossomjjk · 2 years

Text

practice | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

⇢ RATING/GENRE: m/18+ | college au, fwb, smut

⇢ WC: 8.1k

⇢ WARNINGS: mentions of bad sexual experiences, nickname you guys might find cringey (sorry babes), praise, a little degradation, a little manhandling, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, very brief mentions of anal play, brief mentions of sex toys and masturbation, spitting, titty sucking, protected sex (hes a hoe but not a dummy), jk is kinda a himbo (scratch that last side note), jk running through twice members lmao sorry girlies, pining, maybe unrequited love, maybe not, ill let u decide, oc is in denial in the beginning, oc has that lemon water coochie!!, daddy kink + daddy kink slander (not seriously!), slight corruption kink

⇢ SUMMARY: you usually spend friday nights on your own. tonight, however, your friend and campus fuckboy, jungkook, decides to pay you a visit.

⇢ NOTES: hi friends!! i’m back with my second fic!! i posted this last night but miss ting had a bad case of the typos rip. so I had it beta'd by @kookstempo pls go give her love >:((( ! i found the smut a little easier to write this time. still not that good lol but not as mentally taxing! oc is totally definitely not a little bit of a projection of me haha thisficwassexuallycathartictowrite i hope you guys like it! i would love to know your thoughts! also would be v cool if you checked out my masterlist. love u bye!!

⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s 10 p.m. on a Friday.

The night of the week that lures college students out of their suffocating dorm rooms with the promise of parties and alcohol. After days of classes, hours of studying, and minutes of sleep, most people your age spend their weekends unwinding, hopping from frat house to frat house.

One of the many perks of living on campus is the social life. Being surrounded by young adults is exciting. It also means that everyone is horny. Ravenously so. Seriously. Anything with a hole or phallic-shaped appendage is a prime candidate for getting fucked.

Anything and everyone, except you.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t get fucked, per se. Although abundant, your options were limited. Given the environment, it was difficult to find a guy you actually felt comfortable with. He didn’t have to be in love with you, but he did have to respect you if he wanted to get anywhere near your sugar walls. With that being said, it was slim pickings.

You coped well, for the most part. But it was hard to shake the lonely feelings that bubbled in your chest from time to time. And the feral ones. Nothing a quick rub from your petite, manicured fingers couldn’t satisfy, you suppose…

Besides, all men do is disappoint you. The only two sexual partners you’ve had thus far were subpar, to say the least. Greedy. Disgusting. Selfish. Not an ounce of concern for your pleasure. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you’ve never orgasmed from sex. Not even close. That left a sour, lemony taste in your mouth. Ever since then, your pussy was on hiatus, locked away in the highest room of the tallest tower, until a worthy knight came to save it from this tortuous dry spell.

You sigh, peeling the honey-drenched sheet mask off your face and tossing it into the trash with vigor. You eye yourself in the mirror with a scowl. Fluffy, freshly plucked brows knit together as you examine your appearance. You’re wearing a cropped white tank top, nipples poking through the little animated cherubs printed on the front. The baby pink Sailor Moon pajama shorts on your thighs left little to the imagination. White kitty ears headband keeping those annoying baby hairs out of your face.

You’re cute, right?

Atleast you tried to look cute.

Your roommate, Mina, was visiting family for the weekend, leaving you the dorm to yourself. Without your extraverted lifeline, you decided it was the perfect opportunity to stay in and pamper yourself.

You’ve already waxed your body, head to toe, with that expensive sugaring wax Mina begged you not to get. ‘It was worth it,’ you thought to yourself when you had spread your peach-scented lotion on the smooth canvas of your legs after the shower.

You even gave yourself a facial. Extractions and all. Much cooler and more productive than partying and getting laid.

You take your headband off, ruffling your thick hair until it falls into place. You reach for your candy-flavored Laneige lip mask, spreading it across your plump pout with your middle finger. Another overpriced purchase.

You exit the bathroom, shuffling towards your twin-sized bed and then falling face first into the plush, ivory duvet. So comfy. It wasn’t even midnight and you were ready to hit the hay.

You had planned to study a bit before knocking out, but the warm shower left you sleepy. Plus, the past week has been hell. Two papers and an impromptu quiz from your least favorite professor. You were a good student. A great one, even. But you were an overachiever to the core, and still found yourself stressing over assignments you knew you aced.

You let out a small yawn, squinting at the brightness around you. Along the wall beside your bed were vine garlands, embellished with little fairy lights and pink roses. They were such a pain in the ass to put up. It took you and Mina nearly three hours, and a mental breakdown on your behalf, to stick them against the drywall in the right position. High maintenance, but cute, nonetheless. Kinda like you.

The lights dim as your mind turns hazy, eventually turning into a silent black as sleep clouds your vision. Sweet, blissful sleep. You were teetering into the REM phase when-

Knock. Knock.

The booming noise startles you awake, rattling the brittle wood of your cheaply built door. The wall hangings flutter in its wake.

Maybe you were being dramatic. The knocks were actually soft and melodic. Almost cheerful as they followed the rhythm of a made-up song. But you were pissed. Even the most heavenly sound would ring demonic and evil in your ears at the moment.

You shove yourself off of your bed with an exaggerated groan, stomping towards the door and yanking it open, fully prepared to yell at whoever was behind it.

Jeon Jungkook.

His expression is blank, doe-eyes widening as he takes in your expression. Your body language radiates hostility and violence. The silver barbell glimmers as his thick, dark brows twitch in confusion. He blinks before opening his mouth. “Hey,” he utters hastily.

Under different circumstances, you would be ecstatic.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Jungkook?”

“Woah, someone’s cranky,” he laughs hesitantly. “I was bored. Figured you were, too. Mina is gone, right?”

“Are you drunk or something?”

“What- no,” his plump lips form a pout, the matching silver ring on the bottom corner shining as well.

You sneer at him, pupils darting over his outfit. Oversized gray hoodie, white t-shirt peeking from the unzipped portion at the top. Gray sweatpants. Your gaze lingers on the tight pull of the material in the front. He doesn’t seem drunk, and he isn’t dressed in his usual party attire.

“I just want to hang out with you. Why are you acting so sus?”

You roll your eyes, doing everything in your power to exaggerate your irritation. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, come on, Bambi. Don’t be like that.”

Bambi.

That stupid nickname.

You and Jungkook had met at a party after you were peer pressured into a game of beer pong. The super boisterous, super attractive stranger ended up being your partner by default.

"What do you mean you’ve never played before?" He questioned you, voice laced with devastation when he realized you were about to cost him his undefeated streak.

Despite Jungkook’s best efforts, Mina and her boyfriend, Taehyung, mopped the floor with you.

"You know what, I like you. You’re a little bitchy but-,” he slurred at the end of the night, helping you gather the discarded solo cups, "Also innocent. Kinda like a baby deer. What the fuck was that movie?"

You answered him curtly with a scowl.

"Bambi! Right… I can’t wait to ruin you." He was so wasted that night he ended up vomiting off of the second-floor balcony and onto the class president’s Honda Civic. Not drunk enough to forget the awfully humiliating, yet adorable nickname he had bestowed you.

“Give me one good reason why I should let you in.”

“I have pancakes,” he beams with pride, bunny teeth peeking out. He raises both arms, showing you the crinkled takeout bags in his hands. “Chocolate chip-”

“That’s disgusting,” you scoff.

“And blueberry,” he retorts with a squint. “Please? I won’t be annoying, I promise.”

You let out a contemplative noise. It wasn’t what you had planned for the night, but you guess company wouldn’t hurt. Especially his company.

If only you could mute your evil brain.

“I thought you had plans with whatsherface,” you question, stepping aside to let Jungkook enter your room.

He kicks his slides off at the door, something you’ve drilled into his head with violent words and empty threats. You remember him texting the groupchat a screenshot of his calendar, tonight being marked ‘PUSSY APPOINTMENT’ with the woozy face emoji next to it. The same one that was inked on his middle finger; it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Tonight was one of many slots in his month with the exact same title. That picture was deleted from your phone as soon as you received it.

“Sana,” he corrects, face unimpressed like he expected you to keep a mental catalog of all his flavors of the week.

You did. Every time a new name was added to the roster, your heart sank. You would never admit it though.

“I did, but I guess she has a boyfriend now or some shit?” He plops down onto the baby pink area rug beside your bed, immediately digging through the takeout bags.

“How dare she?” You gasp sarcastically, taking the styrofoam container that he held up for you and sitting criss-cross on your bed.

“I know, right? That’s what I’m saying,” he laughs, opening a syrup packet and pouring it over his pancakes.

You cringe, foreseeing a sticky, impossible to clean mess all over your floor. “Please don’t fuck up my rug, Jungkook.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles halfheartedly, bringing the pad of his thumb to his mouth. The tip of his tongue pokes out to kitten lick at the sugary liquid before wrapping his plump, pink lips around it.

He sucks gently and then pulls off with a tiny smooch.

Wow.

Are you really that far gone? There was no denying that Jungkook was attractive. But were you really that touch starved that you were drooling over every minuscule, minute movement he made?

“Maybe she was sick of you stringing her along,” you comment, trying to cover up the fact that you were totally just gawking at him.

“Nah,” he murmurs through chubby cheeks, mouth full of pancake. “She knew it was just sex.”

“Did she though? What about Dahyun?”

“Well aware.”

“Jihyo?”

“Yep.”

“Nayeon?”

“Are you slut-shaming me?” He points his plastic fork at you, bringing the opposite hand to his chest in feigned offense. “Because I feel very attacked right now.”

You playfully nudge his shoulder with your thigh-high sock-clad foot, deciding to drop the subject. To be fair, he wasn’t wrong. Jungkook had a reputation on campus. Every girl who involved themselves with him knew what the outcome would be. He was very blunt about his desires and disinterests. Sex being the prior. Commitment being the latter.

But you suppose remaining detached was easier said than done. Something about him was… magnetic. He was bold, yet soft. Obnoxious, but endearing. A sweet talker for sure. And easily the freest person you’ve ever known. Add sex into the equation, and it must be nearly impossible not to fall in love with him…

Hm. That’s enough thinking for the night.

You need background noise to keep intrusive thoughts at bay. He peeps an ‘I don’t care’ when you ask him what he wants to watch. You take it upon yourself. Sailor Moon it is.

The pancakes keep him preoccupied for a while. You glance down at him every now and then. His eyes sparkle as he watches the cartoon on your phone screen. There’s a little speck of chocolate on the corner of his mouth. His tongue makes an encore appearance, licking it away before fidgeting with his lip. How sinful.

He starts getting squirmy about halfway through the episode. Antsy hands pull at the strings on the border of the carpet below him. Every now and then he draws a shape and erases it. One of the shapes is a penis, something you’d see on the back of a middle school textbook.

He scoots with a sigh, pressing his spine against the edge of your bed, and then bending his head back. Fluffy dark strands tickle your legs as he peers up at you. “Can you play with my hair?”

“Why would I do that?” You huff, hot and bothered by the sudden contact.

“It helps me stay still. Please?”

“Oh, um- okay,” you oblige, gulping like you’ve dry swallowed a huge pill. You cautiously card your digits through his hair. It’s so soft and healthy.

He purrs and closes his eyes.

He's silent once again, enjoying your touch, even pushing into it a bit. Very cat-like.

That lasts for about three minutes. His inability to not speak every single thought that enters the void of his mind takes over.

‘I just realized they’re all named after planets.’

‘Wait, the moon isn’t a planet, is it?’

‘Why are they dressed so sexy to fight space monsters?’

“Jungkook, shut up!”

“But I’m bored,” he whines. “Is this really how you spend your Friday nights?”

“Excuse me, I’d like to see you take STEM classes for a week and then tell me how you feel,” you contend, leaning over to grab your phone off the nightstand. You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on your nipples. It makes your palms clammy. “Sometimes, it’s nice to just chill.”

“You don’t masturbate?” He asks calmly as if he had just inquired about the weather.

You give him an exasperated look.

“What? That’s how I destress,” he continues, shrugging nonchalantly. “Don’t you have a vibrator?”

“I- no! Why are you asking all these questions?” You shriek, absolutely mortified.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” He lifts his head off of your lap, craning his neck so you can see his appalled expression, your answer leaving him equally as mortified. “Damn, that’s wild,” he tuts in disapproval.

“I would rather not have to smuggle a sex toy into my dorm room, Jungkook,” you retort.

“You can borrow mine,” he smirks, turning his body to face you, obviously relishing in the reactions he’s pulling out of you. “It’s a Hitachi. It’s really strong too, like, most girls don’t even last five minutes.”

“Why do you have- you know what, nevermind actually!” You clench your eyes shut, poking your fingers into your ears and shaking your head dramatically. Your reaction is mostly out of embarrassment and partly because the thought of him pleasing women who aren’t you hurts for whatever reason. “I’m done with this discussion!”

“Seriously?” He wheezes, thoroughly enjoying your tantrum. He wraps his long, nimble fingers around your wrists, pulling your hands away. Your skin burns under the touch. “I want to get to know you more.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to know-,” you rip out of his grasp, flailing your hands around in circular motions, “-those things.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation,” he frowns.

“About?”

“Anything.”

“Okay, um...” you look around the room nervously, searching for the right thing to say. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Black. What’s your favorite position?”

“Jungkook!”

“I think missionary is my favorite. Very underrated,” he says, tapping his chin like it’s an answer only an intellectual would’ve given. “The kind where her legs are pushed alllll the way back,” he emphasizes the ‘all’ by balling his hands into fists and lifting them up by his head, showing you exactly where he likes them. “You hit the g-spot perfectly that way.”

You level him with a scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Unamusement written all over.

“Why are you so mad?” He laughs. “What? You’re embarrassed to talk about sex?”

A pause.

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“Jungkook, no…” you sigh, rubbing your temples in frustration. “I’m just not like you, okay? I don’t like sex as much as you and everybody else on this fucking campus does!”

He hesitates for a moment as he processes your sudden outburst. The first time you’ve ever seen him rendered speechless. You can picture the cogs turning in that thick skull of his.

He inhales sharply, eyebrows raising up to his hairline as if something clicked. His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, cute dimple peeping out from the pull. His head drops as he huffs out a laugh.

“What’s so funny, Jeon?”

“Ah, I see now.”

“See what?” You groan, bothered by his vagueness.

“Here's what I think, Bambi,” he mumbles in a low tone, sitting up from his spot on the floor so his gaze is aligned with yours. His palms are on either of your crossed legs, fingers curling into your white blanket. Forcing you to make eye contact with him- his pupils are black, nothing like the soft brown you’re accustomed to. “You’re so uptight because you haven’t had sex in a while- good sex, at least.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You say nothing.

“The guys you fuck don’t know how to treat you, am I right? They can’t make you cum?”

Crickets.

Your lack of response tells him the answer.

When you do speak, your words come out shaky. “Well, what makes you any different?”

He shuffles closer, knocking his forehead right against yours, invading your space. He’s so close that you feel claustrophobic. Your heart pounds in your chest.

“I always make the girl cum.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hums through curled lips as he nods, silver hoops swaying at the motion, nose brushing against yours. “More than once.”

His dilated pupils scan over your body, pausing at your chest for a moment, and then continuing their descent. A hand slides up your bare thigh, the warm touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. He grabs the hem of your shorts between his index and middle fingers, tugging gently. “These are cute.” He licks his lips, making them pink and glossy, like he’s ready to eat you. “I’d like them better somewhere else though.”

“Jungkook…”

And then he's kissing you.

It’s soft, like he’s afraid to scare you away by putting too much pressure into it. Little does he know you’ve been thinking about this for a while.

All your protesting and fighting up until this point was futile. Your hands unconsciously make their way to his cheeks. You swear you feel him smirking. It’s like he can read your mind, knowing exactly how bad you’ve wanted this.

He prods his tongue against your bottom lip, urging you to let him in. You do. He wraps an arm around your waist and guides you down, hovering over you.

“You taste like candy,” he whispers against your lips, hot and needy. Take that, Mina. A sneaky hand cups you through your shorts, right where he knows your clit is. The thin material does nothing to conceal how wet you are. “Do you taste like candy here too? Can I try?”

You’re anxious, but you can’t stop. Not when he’s so enticing. Not when the rumors of his sexual prowess are swimming around in your mind. Jungkook could ask anything of you and you’d gladly obey. You give him a small nod.

“Don’t be nervous,” he teases through an airy laugh, breath fanning across your face. It smells like chocolate and syrup. He turns his head and presses a gentle kiss on your fingertips. You swoon.

Hooking his thumbs into the sides of your shorts, he pulls them below your butt. He dips his head down, biting into the side of your thigh. A predator sinking its teeth into its prey. Not hard enough to hurt. It’s just enough to rip a whine from you. “Fuck,” he grumbles, pulling your shorts completely off. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

He’s been wanting this, too?

“Let’s leave these on though,” he sighs, speaking in reference to your socks. It was something you knew he found sexy, overhearing a graphic conversation with Taehyung about kinks and other filthy things. That may or may not have been the motivation behind your purchase.

You cringe. Being naked in front of someone for the first time in a long time was nerve-wracking.

“No panties?” Jungkook asks, looking at you quizzically. “Dressed so skimpy, Bambi. All for me?”

“I didn’t know you were gonna show up...”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” he chuckles, caressing your legs with his large thumbs. You appreciate the gesture.

Cool air brushes against your exposed core when he parts your thighs. His gaze locks onto your dripping center. You whine and cross your arms over your face. Maybe if you squeeze hard enough you’ll revert back into yourself and escape this dreadfully vulnerable feeling.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” he starts, words dying out because his attention is elsewhere. Jungkook has seen a lot of pussy throughout his life, but yours has got to be the, “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. So fucking wet.” He settles back onto his knees, hooking his limbs around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed.

Jungkook watches in awe as he spreads your lips open with his thumb and index fingers, stealing a peek at your shiny center. He takes a long, languid lick from your pussy to your clit. He moans when the wet muscle dips between your folds, eyes scrunching as his feature contorts into a scowl. You recognize that face. That angry face he makes when he tastes something he finds incredibly yummy. It’s the same one he made when he ate his pancakes.

Have you really studied him so much that you’ve picked up on his subtle habits? Nevertheless, the fact that he actually seemed to be enjoying going down on you was jarring. You’ve never experienced this before. It felt so fucking good. You were already close and he has barely touched you. You let out a whimper.

“Mm, you’re so responsive,” he notes, absolutely loving the little sounds you’re peeping. Much different than the blaring moans and screams he is used to. Despite the ego boost they give him, your shy whimpers are a welcomed change. Each one makes his cock twitch, forcing him to bring a hand down, palming himself through his sweats. “When’s the last time someone ate you out?”

“Never…”

“I don’t see why not,” he coos sympathetically, shaking his head in disapproval. He gives you another lick, tongue pressed flat against you. “You taste like lemonade, so sweet.”

That had you absolutely drenched.

You move up onto your elbows, watching as he throws your legs over his broad shoulders. He licks the pad of his thumb, this time actually sinful. He presses it right to your bud, rubbing it before pulling the sensitive skin taut, lifting the hood and exposing your clit.

He tuts his tongue, whispering something so quietly you barely catch it, only making out a breathy iteration of the word ‘tiny’. Heavy eyes flicker up to yours as he places two soft pecks on it, then blows delicately.

“Jungkook, please…”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, “I won’t tease-,” sentiment interrupted with an open-mouthed kiss, “I know how bad you must want it.”

He circles the tip of his tongue on your clit before suctioning his lips around it. You gnaw onto your lower lip, face twisting up in pleasure.

This is easily a far better form of self care than what you had planned.

It’s obvious that this is something Jungkook does a lot. He is a photography major, and has never struck you as someone who is incredibly bright, but the way he touched is strategic. He has spent the better part of the past decade perfecting his craft, studying the way women move their bodies when he applies a certain amount of pressure. The beautiful noises they make when he stimulates them in certain spots. He has the exact equation to make you fall apart.

There is a pattern to it. He latches onto your swollen nub, cheeks hollowing with a few harsh sucks, before licking over it, letting his tongue dip into your entrance. You can’t help the subtle thrusts into his mouth with every glide of his tongue. The consistency had your stomach doing somersaults.

He sinks further down, lapping at your folds, never straying too far from your clit, burying himself so deep into your pussy that the tip of his nose nudges against it. A big palm slides up your torso, reaching under your tank top to grab at your chest, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple.

“Jung- fuck!” You croak, high-pitched and desperate. “I’m close.”

You expect him to pull away. He, instead, acknowledges you with an ‘mhm’, nuzzling even further into your cunt.

You can’t help the instinctual, or more so learned, shame bubbling in your stomach. Your hips jerk away. Legs close tight around his head, attempting to save him from the brunt of your orgasm. He simply pries them back open, nails digging into your inner thigh. You grasp onto his hair, tugging it back as you curse under your breath.

He doesn’t like that.

He pops off of your clit with a sharp, annoyed growl. “Can you stop?” The stern edge in his voice makes you flinch, releasing your grip immediately. “You don’t have to control every situation. Just relax.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeak.

His gaze softens immediately. He didn’t want you to apologize and he definitely didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. “You can touch me, Bambi,” he grabs your hands and places them back on his head, encouraging them to tangle in his tresses once again. “Keep me here, though. Wanna make you cum in my mouth.”

It’s strange, being pampered during sex. Taken care of.

You peer down at him. His mouth and cheeks are dewy, covered in your arousal. Even the tip of his nose is wet. He’s not uncomfortable in the slightest.

You push him down, giving him the green light to continue. The descent is quick. Starting in your stomach before it shoots through the rest of your body. You throw your head back, teeth digging into your lip as you desperately try to stifle the lewd moans threatening to escape.

Jungkook guides you through it, slowing down towards the tail end of your orgasm. He pulls away with a satisfied hum, standing up from his spot on the floor. “Taste?” He asks, squishing your cheeks with his big hand. His tongue licks right against yours when you stick it out, lips closing into a sloppy kiss. “Good, right?”

You don’t really taste anything, but you nod anyway. Maybe a slight hint of citrus. Or maybe you were delirious after the best orgasm of your life. The only partnered orgasm of your life.

His eyes are scrunched, but you can still see the stars in his dark pupils as he smiles down at you. You mirror him with the opposite expression, irises wide and blown out. He giggles, nuzzling into the side of your face and then nipping at your cheek. “You’re like a space girl,” your heart melts at the Sailor Moon reference. “So clueless. I wanna do everything to you. Teach you everything.”

“Like what?”

“Have you ever squirted before?”

You freeze. “No… I don’t think everyone can.”

“That’s not true. Everyone can squirt with a good partner and the right mindset,” he proclaims enthusiastically, shooting you a thumbs up. The tent in his pants on full display.

“Right mindset?” You giggle, raising a brow at him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty intense.” He grabs a half-empty water bottle, your water bottle, off the nightstand, taking a big sip. “I can get you there,” he states, a droplet of water dripping down his chin. “You have to listen to me, though. You can continue your ‘girlboss’ bullshit after I’m done with you.”

You roll your eyes. If any other man said that to you, you would be livid. You would literally rain hellfire upon them. But it’s Jungkook. You know he’s joking, and the soft spot you have for him prevents you from ripping him a new one.

He smiles when you agree, pecking your cheek before unzipping his hoodie and shrugging it off his shoulders. You watch his muscles work. Toned, firm biceps exposed for your viewing pleasures. He recently recolored the tattoos on his right arm.

You remember him venting about his parents’ disapproval of them, and his major, when he walked you to your dorm after a party a few weeks ago. It was the only time you’ve ever seen the fun-loving, jovial man feel melancholic. You coin that night the night you developed... whatever it was that you have for him now.

“Alright,” he gestures to the cotton sweater, now spread out on your bed. “Lay here.”

“Why?”

“I mean…” he looks at you like you’re stupid. “You don’t want to get this wet, right?” He counters, pinching your blanket.

Cockiness just oozes out of him. It makes wetness ooze out of you.

You comply, laying down on the soft material. It’s warm and smells like the delicate linen cologne he normally wears. You bask in the scent.

“I usually use lube for this, but…” he clicks his tongue, knowing you don’t have any. “We can make it work.” Leaning down, he lets a string of spit land on your clit. It tickles as it trickles down your folds. He’s quick to collect it with his fingertips, smearing the moisture all over.

“Take your top off, please. I wanna see those pretty tits.”

It’s barely a top. The jagged, raw hem only conceals half of your perked nipples. How ironic is it that you’re wearing an angel print tank while being absolutely defiled. You sit up, taking it off easily and tossing it on the floor before laying back down.

“It’s not going to hurt, is it?” You wonder, reflecting on his earlier statements.

“Why, you nervous?” He teases with a lopsided grin. It drops when he sees the apprehensive look on your face. “It shouldn’t hurt, but if it does you’ll tell me, right?”

“Right,” you moan, another drop of saliva hitting your pussy.

“Hold your legs up, keep them open,” he orders, sucking back the extra spit with a hiss.

Pink nails curl under your thighs, bringing them up to your chest just as Jungkook instructed. He pops his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, bringing them down to tease at your entrance before slipping in, palm facing up.

There’s an adjustment period, his fingers being much bigger than your own. You’re so aroused that the tenderness subsides quickly. “Fuck,” you yelp when he starts gently petting at your g-spot.

He doesn’t jam his fingers into you carelessly, an unpleasant sensation you’ve been subjected to in the past. His digits never leave you. Instead, they move in a sensual curl that makes you purr. Every touch is focused, intricately placed on that delicious spot.

“Pussy so wet,” his voice comes out as strained as his pants. He sounds so turned on and filled with lust. It makes you clamp around his fingers. He lets out the tiniest moan, using his free hand to grab yours, sucking three fingers into his mouth. “Touch your clit for me.”

You bring your hand down, rubbing side to side. “Uh-uh, circles.”

Immediately, you follow his command. You look so delicious he can’t help himself, bending at the waist to latch onto one of your nipples.

“Please, Jungkook, more…”

“Yeah?” He mumbles against your chest, sending vibrations through the sensitive skin. You nod frantically. “I usually don’t give in this easily, but I think you deserve it. Been such a good girl. You can have more, Bambi.” You know it’s just sex talk. A stream of consciousness fueled by his horniness. All the blood leaving his head to fill his cock, making him more dumb than usual, but you can’t help but feel special.

“It’s going to build up fast, okay?”

You mumble a small ‘mhm’. How bad can it really be?

Jungkook starts moving his hand rapidly, fingers thrashing up and down. There's so much force behind his movements that your hips lift and dip.

You’re overwhelmed. Constant, vigorous stimulation right to your g-spot. A strange swelling feeling starts pooling in your lower stomach. High-pitched whimpery moans and wet squelching noises fill the room.

“J- daddy, fuck!” It is so intense you can’t form a coherent sentence. There’s faint laughter in the background. “No, no, no…” you plead, wrapping your hand around his wrist, nails digging into his skin. It’s too good. So good that it made you scared.

His movements halt. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, too much… fuck!” You shout when he continues at the same intensity, your body thrashing wildly. You feel out of control.

“Shh,” he whispers softly. “You can take it. Just let it happen.”

You inhale sharply, doing your best to calm down. It’s difficult when he keeps touching you like that. Your fingers curl into his sweater, bracing yourself. As soon as you stop fighting that full feeling, as soon as you loosen the tense muscles, it’s going to hit you.

You relax and a wave of the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt ripples over you.

There’s an intense, world-shattering, euphoric release.

And then nothing.

Your head is empty. Your ears ring. Your vision is distorted by white splotches.

Complete solace.

Your senses come back after a few minutes of heavy breathing. It’s fuzzy, but you can see the ceiling fan swirling above you.

There’s a metallic taste on your tongue.

You can feel droplets trickling down your inner thighs, a damp puddle under your butt, and a warm set of lips on your temple.

“Welcome back to planet Earth,” Jungkook jokes, pushing away the wispy flyaways that stick to your forehead. You blink absently as you slowly make out his features. You swear there’s a glowing aura around him. “You good?”

“So good,” you confirm halfheartedly. “You’re so good.”

“You came so much,” he hums in satisfaction, placing a few pecks against your jaw. Jungkook was actually surprised at how much wetness he coaxed out of you. You just kept on cumming. The prettiest waterfall he’s ever seen. Damp fingers brush up and down your bicep, a comforting gesture. “You called me daddy.”

“Shut up,” you groan, covering your face. “Don’t talk about it.”

“I won’t, it was fucking gross,” he laughs, smiling down at you so genuinely that it reaches his eyes. This was just a hookup, you assume, but he’s just so pretty. You can’t stop yourself from pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He reciprocates. It feels so intimate. Too intimate for a pair of friends. You’re so tired but you want more. Everything.

“Take this off, please,” you ball the white fabric of his shirt into your tiny fists, mimicking his words from earlier. “Let me see those pretty tits.”

He quirks a brow at you, standing up straight and pulling his shirt off by the collar. It’s discarded onto the floor, with all the other useless, bothersome items.

His tits are pretty. Chest flushed red from exertion, nipples spiked and tiny. His body is fit, but not overly muscular. Lean and toned. Just what you like.

You snake your legs around his cinched waist, constricting his pelvis flush against yours.

“Is it my turn now?” He says, loving your sudden burst of confidence. His jaw goes slack when you start grinding on his clothed cock. There’s a slick spot where your bodies meet, heather gray turning dark as the fabric dampens. Jungkook lets you play with him for a bit, rutting against you until he physically cannot stand it anymore. “I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so bad.”

“Then do it,” you whimper, growing impatient. He sighs, hand coming down to fiddle with the sweater underneath you. You crane your neck, watching curiously as he pulls a square packet out of the pocket.

There’s a sharp pain in your chest when you see it. “Did you plan on us hooking up?”

“Maybe,” he contends playfully. All the amusement in his face disappears when he flicks his bangs back and sees yours. Hurt and disappointed. “I always keep condoms on me, you know that,” he explains, voice soft and wary.

It makes sense. He was sexually active. Very much so.

That scares you. You could possibly be just another girl he’s sexually active with. A last ditch effort to get laid because the first option bailed. The puzzle pieces start coming together.

You look him in the eyes. His pupils are brown again. They look pleading, concerned for your wellbeing. Afraid they’ve tarnished something so delicate. You can’t tell if it’s just your delusions, post-orgasm bliss. All you know is you never want him to stop looking at you the way he is right now.

“Can I put it on?” You ask, pointing at the condom in his hand, desperate to break the tension.

“I- sure,” he retorts, exhaling deeply like he was holding his breath, relieved. He gives it to you, using his other hand to pull his pants by the waistband, stopping mid-thigh. Too rushed and eager to take them off completely.

He didn’t have underwear on either.

You squint, trying to read the white font on the packet. Large.

You glance up, eyes bulging out of your skull when they land on his cock. It’s big. So aroused that it points straight up, resting on his abdomen. The tip is bright pink, standing out against the background of his smooth milky pelvis. It’s shiny with precum, a little bead sitting right at the slight. Your gaze trails up the veiny underside, following the acute upward curve. You gulp.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, jittery hands tearing open the foil packet. You cautiously wrap your hand around the shaft. It’s so firm. Rock solid and touch starved. It jumps in your palm as you slip the sticky rubber down, making sure to stroke him along the way. “Big, thas’ all.”

He nods, the corner of his lips pulling up in a smirk. He can tell your words are equally as worried as they are complimentative, though. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises, holding on to your ankle to lift your leg, kissing it through your white sock. Gaze locked on you, making sure you’re watching and that you know he can be soft with you.

He bends both of your knees up to your chest, tapping your outer thigh, indicating he wants you to hold them again. Tattooed knuckles wrap around the base of his cock, laying it flat against your pelvis. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath when he sees the tip reaches just below your belly button, knowing exactly what to envision when he’s inside you. His cock so deep it’s in your stomach.

He smacks the shaft between your folds. Filthy, wet slapping noises overpower your coos and purrs. The tip tickles your entrance, rubbing up and down your folds, before he brings it to your abused clit again, flicking it up and down like a light switch. Watching your face intently to gauge your reaction, looking for any prick of discomfort.

“Put it in,” you frown, growing impatient.

“So needy,” Jungkook teases, gripping his cock right under the crown and pushing in. Only the tip. He uses his fingers as a buffer, trying not to give too much too fast. Pulling back agonizingly slow and then diving back in, giving you a little bit more length this time. It was only an inch or so, but the stretch burned. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill.

He repeats this process, working you open little by little until he’s buried to the hilt. He lets out a pained grunt, overwhelmed by the way your warm wet walls just suffocate him. “Fuck, tightest pussy ever.”

You clench your eyes shut, trying to ease the feeling of getting impaled. Jungkook is so big. The veins that run along his shaft, the thickness, the curve. He leans down and pecks your nose sweetly. His thumb, rubbing tight circles against your clit, provides a decent distraction. You focus on the pleasure instead of the pain.

“Feel okay, Bambi?” He coos, feeling you relax under him. “Can I move?”

With furrowed brows, he pulls out a few inches before thrusting back in slowly. Heavy eyes glued on the way your lips petal around him when he gives you more. The way they resist when takes his cock away. “Good girl,” he praises, voice raspy as he tries his best to maintain a slow, shallow pace. “You take it so well.”

Any pang of discomfort is gone. He prepped you so well that there’s no friction, just seamless glides in and out of your leaking cunt. The upturned tip of his cock tickles that sweet spot in you. You moan, digging your almond-shaped nails into your thighs, arching your back for more.

Jungkook sees your body language. He knows what to do in this situation. One of the most useful sex tips he’s ever learned. He leans forward, pressing his chest against yours, swollen lips latching onto your neck. They suck a sore spot that his tongue quickly soothes over. “Hold on to me,” he commands, wet pout smushed to your skin.

You let go of your thighs, leaving little crescent indents on the surface, and throw your arms around his shoulders. Hooking your knees into the bend of his elbows, Jungkook hoists you up effortlessly, supporting your weight with his large palms on your ass. The change in position spreads you even further, slides him in even deeper.

“Mmm, f-,” you moan, words cut short when he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Mmm, I knew it,” he chuckles sadistically, right into your ear. “I knew you were just waiting to be ruined. So fucking high-strung and- fuck!” He can feel your arousal dripping down to his balls. “Controlling.”

Arguing is pointless. You swear he's in your head, the tip of his cock scrambling your brain around so that you can’t even think straight. All you can think about is him.

You cling to him, resting your cheek against his shoulder as he lifts you in the air. Letting him have his way with you. You’re never felt more alive.

‘Orgasms are the pinnacle of the human experience,’ you recall Jungkook telling you one day at the library. At the time, you rolled your eyes. Now, you know exactly what he meant.

“You just needed some dick, huh? My dick?” You nod, drooling against his skin. “Doesn’t it feel good to let go?” All you can get out is a little moan.

A glint flickers in the corner of your eye. Mina’s mirror. It’s leaning against the wall right in front of you. You can see the expanse of his back. The taut skin on his shoulder blades. Biceps bulging as he moves you. His pants slid down to his knees, so you can see his cute butt dimpling when he thrusts up. Muscles working to make you cum.

“Okay,” he huffs, more to himself than you. Your pussy was so good that it derailed his original plan. Jungkook tosses you up a little, getting a more secure hold as he wraps an arm around your waist. The motion makes his cock slip out, the loss of contact makes you whine.

His free hand tosses his soiled hoodie out of the way. You cringe, making a mental note to mop tomorrow morning.

He places one of your fancy, cooling-gel pillows on the edge of the bed, laying you down on top of it. Your hips are elevated, tilted upwards. Giving him a clear view of your glowy core. He catches a glimpse of the only place he hasn’t destroyed.

“What about this?” He coos, pressing the pad of his thumb right against your clenching hole.

You squeak, shaking your head. Baby steps.

“Alright,” he chuckles, hand retreating promptly. “Maybe next time.”

He wants to do this again. Your heart flutters.

You watch as he guides himself back in, stuffing you to the brim in one swift motion. Much less cautious than earlier. His cock hits your g-spot perfectly. The pillow and his curve doing wonders. Your eyes roll back as your head hits the bed. “Like that, right?” He laughs, snapping into you.

“Yeah, Jungkook,” you moan out, gripping your ankles and bringing them up by your head, just how he likes. “Don’t stop.”

He could’ve busted right then and there.

“Fuck, keep saying my name,” he groans, eyes glancing up to your perky tits, jiggling freely with every snap of his hips. His pupils sneak down further, watching his cock plow into your tight, wet cunt, leaving it dewy.

You call his name like a metronome, ‘Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook’. Voice airy, following the rhythm of his hips. It makes him move harder and faster, feeling that familiar pooling at the base of his shaft.

Just like everything about him, his strokes are fluid. His hips aren’t locked and stiff. They move in a dip and roll that makes your toes curl. His pelvis mushes against your clit when he thrusts all the way in, balls smacking against the curve of your ass. It feels delicious. Your third orgasm of the night is approaching fast.

“You cumming, Bambi?” He hums, already recognizing the way your thick brows pull together when you're close. The way your hips rut a little, naturally guiding you to your orgasm.

“Mhm, make me cum Jungkook,” you mewl.

He hovers over you, placing his hands on top of yours, bending your legs back farther. Taking long, violent plunges into you. So close to a piledriver. He’s basically fucking you into the mattress, bed frame cracking against the wall beside it. One of your vine garlands falls down, but you’re so close you can’t even bring yourself to care.

Your climaxes blend together. You first, clenching and unclenching around his length. Moans coming out sporadic and your shoulders off the bed. Legs trembling in his hands.

His orgasm is stunning.

“Ah- fuck. I’m cumming,” he croaks through snarled teeth, head dropping to watch where you connect. Something he does often, you notice. He doesn’t stop, even after he spills into the condom, fucking you until he’s completely drained. You whimper, sensitive from the overstimulation.

“Damn,” Jungkook huffs out a laugh, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You fist the wavy strands at the back of his head, a little damp.

“Thank you,” you speak shyly.

“I know you’re new to this,” he lifts up and looks at you quizzically, amusement tickling his features, “But that’s kinda a weird thing to say after someone fucks you.”

You laugh with him, eyes darting over his face. He has a small scar on his cheek, something you’ve never noticed before.

“No, I just mean-” you cringe when he pulls out of you, feeling empty. “You’re the only guy who’s ever… I don’t know. You’re just different.”

He smiles with twinkling eyes, tying a knot at the end of the condom and tossing it into the pink trash can beside your nightstand. “You’re different, too,” he mirrors, plopping down onto the bed next to you. “Special.”

Special.

You sigh into his lips when he gives you a soft peck, thumb brushing against the newfound mark of his face. “I’m sorry that I made you do all the work.”

“Nah, don’t worry. Making you feel good makes me feel good.” His words are sweet but there’s a naughty glint in his eyes. “Besides, you can think of this as a practice round.”

“Practice round?”

He hums in conformation, tapping your ass lightly, making it ripple against his hand. “Alright, go take a leak before you get a UTI.” He laughs when you push his shoulder. The same old blunt, shameless Jungkook.

He stops you before you disappear into the bathroom. “I hope this won’t make things awkward between us. Like, we’re still friends, right?”

Friends.

It takes all of your strength to give him a nod. You ponder over his words as you clean up in the bathroom. Why did you feel so... conflicted? You’re so happy, but you’re also kinda sad. It’s like your mood solely depends on Jungkook. His words have the power to pull you in whatever direction he pleases. You stare at yourself in the mirror.

All these emotions must mean you have a crush on him.

You sigh, flicking off the light and then heading back into your room.

Jungkook is hunkered down in your sea of pillows, soft snores leaving his parted lips. Chest rising and falling steadily. Hair messy, fanned around him.

He looks so beautiful and peaceful.

You tilt your head at the sight. He always told you that he never spends the night after a hookup.

The blanket is only covering his pelvis, strong legs poking out from underneath. His sweats are still on his ankles. You giggle, attempting to slide them off without waking him.

“Bambi,” he mutters sleepily, opening his big arms. “C’mere.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. You shuffle into bed, throwing the covers over both of your bare bodies.

He wraps his arms around you, pecking your forehead before drifting back into slumber.

Fuck.

What have you gotten yourself into?

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