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#jeongguk smut
sweetieguk · 21 hours
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kiss me ; jjk ☙ blurb
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❝ You’re the cutest when you’re seemingly lost in your head, and Jeongguk finds himself getting lost in you all the same.❞  
・❥ pairing ・ jeongguk x (f) reader ・ ・❥ genre ・ friends to lovers ; soft smut and fluff ・ ・❥ rating ・ 18+ ・ ・❥ word count ・ 289 ・
content : soft smut; nudity, implied piv sex, jk is big, bc he is.
a/n: imagined as the let me in couple. i'm playing around with my use of tenses, so it might differ from the full fic. enjoy these breadcrumbs ♡︎♡︎♡︎
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     “—Jeongguk?”
     You gasp, your pupils blown and wide as saucers. They trail down the length of your bare body where his meets yours. Suddenly, you’re feeling a bit winded at the weight that rests against your thigh.
     “I’ll be gentle”, he assures, withdrawing from the warmth of your neck to look at you. “I promise.”
     “Okay…” you whisper, for no reason other than the fact that this moment seems too delicate to disturb with any other volume. Even the distant crackling of the fireplace in the living space can be heard from where you lie with Jeongguk; the soft bed linen hardly covering the two of you at all. Though you hesitate to speak, wanting to ask for something in addition but think otherwise.
     The sight of your brows furrowing isn’t lost on Jeongguk. You’re only a few breaths away from one another and he can easily trace the lines created on your forehead. You’re the cutest when you’re seemingly lost in your little head, and he finds himself getting lost in you all the same. “What is it?”
     “Huh, what-?” Your vision focuses on his face which is closer than you remember. Meeting his gaze, you swallow. They’re warm, inviting and encouraging. “When you—Do you think you could...”
     Your voice trails at the end, suddenly shy.
     “What, what is it?” He laughs softly in that cute boyish way of his where his nose scrunches, exposing his front teeth. Somehow he’s gotten nearer with his arms loosely framing your face, his fingertips just barely caressing the strands of your hair.
     Your eyes flicker to his thin lips before gingerly resting your arms at the nape of his neck and pulling in to close the gap.
     “Kiss me.”
.
.
.
scenario from let me in ; masterlist ; lost letters
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⤷ if you enjoyed this drabble, don’t hesitate to reblog, or comment. i’d love to hear your thoughts !! it’d mean a lot to me. love always,
— sana ♡︎
162 notes · View notes
jjungxkook-backup · 2 months
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blackout | jjk
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⇥ pairing: roommate!jungkook x reader
⇥ genre: best friends to lovers, roommate and college au, fluff, crack, smut
⇥ rating: 18+
⇥ warnings: swearing, he’s just a bit of a fuckboy, bickering, swooning over/thirsting for jk (🤷‍♀️), a manually induced fake blackout? dunno those 2 are odd k, they play uno, a lot of spending time in the darkness, kook has no chill, teasing, consent, dirty talk, fingering, cmnf for a while, sexual tension, oral (both receiving), shower sex, choking, hair pulling, reader cries a bit, jk likes to praise, dry humping?, pussy and tits slapping rip (and some ass ig), making out🙄, manhandling, jk loves her tits and ass and plays with them (a lot), he’s sweet but cocky too, protected sex, dom + big dick kook
⇥ wc: 14.3k
⇥ author’s notes: mmmkay here it issss, this... thing. i may repent for my sins. also i do not know why this is so long, i thought it would be 10k rip please i apologize. anyways, i really hope you like it!! i’m very stoked to find out what you think😶‍🌫️
⇥ summary: Utility bills shooting up like this should be an international crime. Luckily, Jungkook has the perfect idea(s) to save up money and make your night sinfully unforgettable.
The hardness of the bench is tiring out your ass.
It’s incredible to you what tribulations you’re ready to burn through just to keep your best friend happy and satisfied. The blazing noon sun is steaming your scalp, even though in the middle of fall, it really shouldn’t.
Fingers wrapped around the edge of your seat, you lean forward and squint your eyes. You make out the energized individual running across the field immediately. Nevermind that he promised you football but you got soccer instead.
You wouldn’t dare to complain, though. In the summer heat, lopsided beams and big, dark puppy eyes refresh you like the late night Tequila Sunrises you love so much.
“Are you playing or taking a walk?” You yell from where you watch. Childish howling and woahhhhs echo across the field, fists pressed against round mouths and eyebrows skyrocketing.
They strive off anyone’s praises, really, but your unfaltering coaching pushes them forward a good, humongous step. In fact, you only recognize about a handful of the players, though there aren’t that many anyway.
No one running around down there cares much about authentic formations. The game usually played with eleven screaming, pumped members on each side only consists of four per team today.
It’s entertaining: The constant curses that always evolve into dramatic compliments, the loud and ambitious handshakes when they score, and the testosterone dissolving in the air, but only after the scent has wafted straight into your nostrils.
And the verbal invitations Jungkook hands out to you every week with pouting lips might play a role, too, yeah. He doesn’t like to make you wait like he does right now, but he doesn’t necessarily enjoy distance from you much, either.
A buff man in his mid-twenties, attractive beyond Greek gods’ appearance, highly determined and ready to indulge in new hobbies – relies on you, even after years of independence.
Seeing you watch and cheer him on boosts his already steadfast ego, and he’s never failed to let you know that, “It feels different from when other girls scream my name.”
You wish you could take it as a compliment, but the consistent ambiguity in his (bitter)sweet words fatigues your heart. The beat of it is not so consistent.
The crush has been omnipresent since you learned the first steps of stupid algebra, but lately, something in your lower belly has shifted weirdly, too.
Today, the shift shows in the way you clench the edge of your seat.
You hear the boys announce the end of their groundbreaking, world changing match, though you can’t recall who won, and observe the languid steps Jungkook takes toward the bench.
Energy slowly dwindling, he puffs out a deep breath, unaware that something inside you dies when he throws back the damp hair. His white, sleeveless shirt is sticking to his broad, firm chest – the refined pecs, abs and bare arms might not have triggered your embarrassing drooling if the last weeks hadn’t changed your perception of him.
There are, for instance, the filth-riddled noises when he’s fucking one of his occasional flings to the moon. Or how those exact same groans of his repeat when he heaves something that perhaps does not even require this low ass growl.
The sounds when he’s repairing something at your place or stretching after waking up. How you wish you could add to those sounds by delivering your very own, unique version of the female moans you usually hear from his room.
You could blame it on sex deprivation, or you could blame the outrageous line of his jaw, but you think the walls of your pussy have deformed and become dick-shaped. Welcoming a certain something that's definitely better than your beloved toys, according to the sounds at least.
This yearning feels kind of weird.
Jungkook has stopped not too far from you. He lifts his inked, veiny hand to wave and then reaches for his bottle to hydrate. And hydrating he does – in a way so alluring that you think he’s doing it on purpose.
Flashing the jawline of nightmares, he cuts you from afar. Sharp, more hazardous than in his teenage years. A phenomenal bone structure, accentuated by the shine of the tiny sweat drops. Shimmering golden skin.
When he drinks, you see his Adam’s apple bop even from here. His bicep is hard, bangs falling into his eyes, and his pink lips wrap around the bottle so prettily…
Thirst.
You and he both know how it feels.
Your mouth shuts close before he can notice. Instead you cup your hands around your mouth and call out to him.
“You do know we have an appointment today, right?”
“Your dick appointments can wait,” he yells back. When you roll your eyes to the back of your head, mumbling gross, the dork chuckles. “I’ll be done in a sec.”
He wraps stuff up, running back to his friends, and claps his hands before giving everyone a last handshake-bro-five-mix. The fondness you feel watching his social side bloom is blissful torture.
Jungkook grew up as a timid caterpillar, shying away from crowds and public gatherings. Opening up took a while, so you can’t remember when he went through the process of metamorphosis to come out prettier than a Cramer’s Blue Morpho butterfly.
He's still somewhat introverted, but doesn't back away from parties anymore. Red cups fill with intoxication. Bodies sashay past him, some toward him to fall into his grip.
You don’t want to be envious – so you’re proud instead. You enjoy when he’s liked by someone, love how the others grin at him. A likable and soft person like him taking over hearts left and right either platonically or not is kind of attractive to you.
“I’ll wash up,” his voice declares when he’s standing next to you. “And then we go.”
“Aren’t you gonna take a proper shower?”
“Yeah, later tonight. College showers are gross.”
Your conversations are a constant repetition. The way you act around each other, your gazes and your actions were bound to become a routine – if not during your time growing up together, then certainly when you began searching for a place to share.
So his response doesn’t surprise you. Neither does the further waiting on the bleachers, pulling in your knees, draping your arms around them to press your cheek against them. Daydreaming and watching or listening boy after boy leave the field.
Despite the familiarity of everything, you still feel different these days.
“After last time, I feel like you’re asking for too much.”
The man, not exactly happy about missing a live match of tennis but not quite grumpy today either, leans against the frame of his door. White, wet tresses peek through his dark mane, an indicator he just showered to enjoy the calm day you interrupted. 
Jungkook’s hair was as wet as his when you left the bleachers too, now fully dry as you stand in your old but cozy building.
How could it not be?
Considering the dozen stops between campus and your home, you could possibly dry an entire laundry in that time. Both of you are at fault, though – one of the million things you’re good at doing together is wasting money on stuff you might not necessarily need.
Convenience store, pharmacy and a flower shop to buy yet another succulent for your room. Jungkook pouted and frowned at you for the entirety of the convenience store visit when you told him the landlord thing wasn’t an appointment per se, but that he knew as well as you that you needed to sort things out.
Things being the impossible utility bills that keep you up at night. Things being both your stupidity to still halt in front of shops to acquire things like parsley and cheese.
Remembering just this idiocy and looking at the power your landlord’s eyes hold, you’d rather look at Jungkook than him.
At the shiny hair tips hanging into your friend’s eyes. The oversized gray shirt that could potentially hide the body he sports underneath, but his fingers are holding the strap of his rucksack, and the pull at his shirt is enough to make the lines of his chest visible.
But this afternoon is not about brooding over the edges of his torso. It’s about confronting a landlord who fortunately didn’t meet you in a hazardous mood despite his firm plans for tonight. He doesn’t complain about the weather today or seem elated because he found yet another new hobby, like he usually does.
He looks almost neutral, you think. You can’t read him, actually.
“Yes,” you confirm, exchanging a look with Jungkook. “It does sound like a lot, but you know you can count on us–”
“Dunno. You don’t seem to remember last time.”
The taunting tone riles you up, but the numbers on your bills haunt you enough to keep your calm. This is no time for an argument.
You take a breath and shoot another glance at Jungkook. His eyes are tremendously big and lips pressed together to an innocent, uplifting smile. He seems to sense your irritation, too.
“We do,” you confirm. “But c'mon, that's not fair. We’d just started living on our own back then. You know, no guardians to take care of us and all, so it was bound to happen.”
Not just that. The reason why you asked for postponing rent payment was because the two of you had been too eager and too stubborn to ask anyone for money. Ending up only providing half of the rent for almost three months wasn’t something you did on purpose.
But while you should’ve been more cautious, to some degree, it wasn’t entirely your fault. You had more college debt than you could afford only half a year after moving to this apartment, and Jungkook’s earnings weren’t close to what you needed.
“I really don’t know.” Yeah. The man’s doubts are kind of valid.
“C’mon… You know us, Mister Choi,” Jungkook tries this time.
“That’s why–”
“You can…” You suddenly interrupt, only noticing how things might backfire once you’ve already said them. “You could end our lease if we don’t pay you what we owe you this time.”
You think you can quite literally hear Jungkook’s heart stop next to you. At least that’s what his wide eyed, confused stare suggests when he moves his head to you. He’s voicing something in silent hesitation, but Choi most likely doesn’t notice.
Because before Jungkook can throw in his own–probably very unsure–two cents, hand coming up, the landlord sighs. He shrugs his shoulders, mumbling your last names, contemplates for a second longer and then… Agrees.
“Okay,” he says with a not-my-problem-nod. “That’s an idea I can work with. This month’s and at least half of next month’s by the end of the upcoming month, alright?”
You hate the constant repetition of the frightening word month, but on the inside you still jump and clap in joy. Both your and Jungkook’s expressions light up, your feet shifting as though you’re about to jump Choi and tackle-hug him to the ground.
Instead, you only gasp, clearing your throat and cheer, “This is! More than we expected! Thank you so much. Thank you for real for real, seriously, wearesosuperth–”
A palm stops the fast flow of your gratitude, and he only shakes his head and bids you goodbye with a thumbs up before he disappears behind his door. You think you see a fond smile, but your happiness might just be inducing pictures.
But who cares anyway?
Phase One of Saving Money turned out successful.
Once you enter your humble apartment, tension releases out of your mouth with your sigh. You slip your bag off your shoulder and into the corner next to the entrance, shoulders dropping. Every second with the landlord took a year from your lifespan.
Jungkook, always happy-go-lucky, isn’t as demotivated and grumpy as you. His steps carry him to your kitchen without a second thought, immediately scavenging the small space for an easy meal.
“What do we do now?” You whine, leaning against the dining table.
The sun is still up and it will remain hanging in the azure blue sky for a few more hours. But you dread the darkness that will descend after – not because it scares you, but because it means you’ll have to light up rooms for ideal navigation.
But lighting them up means raising the numbers on your electricity bill.
Jungkook, however, doesn’t pay much mind to your shattering financial situation right now. He’s humming at the pots and seasoning he’s scattered around on the counter, calm as ever, because worrying about something he can’t change right now is not something he likes to do.
“First, we eat. Am starving,” he decides.
A slight shake of your head suggests frustration, but the grumble of your stomach agrees with him as though to remind you of feeding it. He side eyes you and smirks. “I’m not doing or talking about shit until you’ve eaten something.”
Of course. Caretaker first, friend second. If you’re not on the receiving end, you’re the one giving.
You push your butt off the dining table and choose to introduce Phase Two of your mission, telling him, “I think we’ve candles somewhere.”
The conversation changes at once when you release your suggestion into the air. Although you might argue you’re still stuck on the same issue, given the intention that lies behind your idea.
“Are we– Ouija board stu– again?” You hear Jungkook call from the kitchen, every other word chopped off and eaten by the sounds of pots and dishes.
“I’m not ever doing that with you again,” you exclaim back.
“Huh? Why not?”
“You were moving the planchette!”
Granted, there was kindness in his cheating. The evening drained you out of energy and left you a nervous mess, eager to speak to your favorite late grandaunty and her deceased dog. Neither Jungkook nor you believed in the magic behind the practice, but he made sure to soothe your nerves anyway.
You were pissed when you noticed what was going on – but once the anger subsided and gave way to the realization that he really cared, you fell asleep with a smile after all.
“I swear on my favorite hoodie that I didn’t,” he defends.
“Lying son of a bitch,” you whisper, laughing to yourself as you kneel in front of a cupboard storing a few dozen candles and other shenanigans. 
You choose one scented, thick one for each room, and then a few smaller, regular ones that you think must do. With a handful of them, you return to the still bright living room, placing each one where you want it later tonight.
You’re serious about your candles – the tongue poking out, eyes squinting in concentration kind of serious. Arranged in a rational way, you beam at your artwork, impressed by your own idea as if it’s not something human beings used to do all the time.
“Seriously, you’re so easy to excite,” Jungkook always reiterates.
Once you join him in the kitchen, preparing not only a meal but spontaneously baking a treat too, time passes significantly faster. In hindsight, you didn’t do that much today, but somehow it still feels like you sailed the world. 
You barely realize when several topics have shifted and the sun has disappeared. The moon hangs bright in the dark sky, the brisk gust blowing in through the open windows. It was a pleasant day of the week, even though you kept freezing at his touch even while cooking, and you’re ready to finish it just as lovely.
Only, it doesn’t end at dinner and the day’s exhaustion.
“Dessert tastes better in bed,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve done the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. Since tidying up, you’ve suddenly become quieter than before and his eyes squint like they’re testing you.
“Okay? Then go and take it with you.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
He shrugs his shoulders, blowing a raspberry. “You’ll go and sleep already?”
“No, but…” You hum and think. It’s not that late just yet – and you don’t feel like tackling homework or any other taxing task tonight. “I do wanna eat dessert, too. Just thought we might chill in the living room.”
“I mean. Take it as an informal invitation to spend some time with me, but in my room. You don’t wanna?”
“Pervert,” you lightly hit his shoulder with a cloth when he winks. “Is that how you court other ladies?”
“Why, yes. What did you think?” He laughs when you shake your head dramatically, pulling your shirt back and further over your clavicles. “Nah, I was thinking of… Just chilling, really.”
It’s not the first time you’re joking in a way like this. It’d also not be the first time of you hanging out with him in his room, on his bed, giggling about stupid jokes or ridiculous cartoons. Or whatever.
But it’s one of the first times the thought renders you nervous. Like you’re perceiving him as more than your best friend just now, after all those years of harmless platonic cuddles.
When you don’t answer, he delivers another decisive argument. “My room is smaller. Less candles. More to spare for the next time!”
You’re not surprised that he sees through your little idea – rather baffled how easy it is for him to sway you. So you follow him to his minimalistically organized room, not one but two diffusers on his desk. The corner of your lips twitches.
The more you near his bed, the more your heart strikes. His mattress is soft and cozy, and Jungkook’s scent oozes from every inch of it. You feel engulfed in his presence so bad that the emotions of this noon and the last few weeks hit you like a brick.
“Wanna watch something, Pumpkin?” Jungkook asks once you’re draped in the comfort of his duvet.
He might never stop calling you that. Probably hasn’t let a day pass since elementary school when your mom and you decided to dress you as a damn pumpkin for Halloween.
“And waste precious battery life?” You scold with a cocked eyebrow. Your voice is quieter now that you’re cuddled in with him, but you try to maintain your cool.
Turning on the living room TV or light is out of the question anyway. No regular Thursday movie night this time. Blasting Disney’s version of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice for the hundredth time can wait.
With the no-technology-rule you established today, even unplugged devices shall remain for emergencies as long as possible.
“So we’ll act like it’s a full blown blackout, yeah?” He asks before he leans over you, pulling open the second drawer of his bedside cabinet to rummage through its content.
The small action forces your body backward, pushing you against the headboard so tight that your lungs fail. He looks unsuspecting, drenched in the warm light of the candles. You breathe him in unintentionally, and he smells of soap and cologne.
Wrapped in darkness next to him is already strange as it is, but it cannot compare to the oddness of how new his proximity feels.
You barely notice what he’s fished out until he waves it right in front of your frozen expression. An old deck of Uno greets your vision, the packaging as worn out as the cards that he pulls out.
He places them on his large palm before he begins shuffling them – staring at the smoothness he operates with makes you almost miss what he asks.
“Is that good enough, then?”
“Mhm.”
“Cool,” he holds the cards to your face once more. “Are we playing with seven or ten cards?”
“Take it up a notch,” your feeble voice allows. “Make it fifteen just for funsies.”
“Why did I know you’d say that?”
You shrug your shoulders, imperceptibly shifting away from the touch of his arms and hips. “Remember one thing, Jeon.”
“Yeh, yeh,” he taunts, his voice strained. He sounds as though his body is beseeching him to lay down and drift off – but something about the moment seems to be keeping him soberly awake. “I won’t let you win this time.”
Fifteen cards down on your lap, you lift your hands from under the blanket, pulling your set close to your face in utter distrust. You cock an eyebrow at the universe’s choice: Jungkook has either already broken his promise, or the gaming Gods have decided this round’s end already.
With the victory residing in your hands, his vow pretty much slips your mind immediately; it blends out how he still remembers your middle school matches. He really still recalls when you’d fume and burn – disappointed and livid when he’d reveal his picture-perfect deck, unused to accept defeat.
The game doesn’t even properly progress when the first argument of the night pops up. More than half your cards are still in your hands, both your words overlapping.
“Once you lay down a 4+ or color card, you’re not allowed to play again. It’s my turn,” you insist, his wrist in your firm grip as if he couldn’t break out of it whenever.
“I am allowed to play, though.” When he swings his hand, yours moves with him. Both your stances are upright, eyes blown wide and comically riled up. “Especially after a 4+. You're blocked.”
“This doesn’t sound right.”
“Look.” He slaps his cards with the logo upwards into his lap, sifting through the rest of the deck to draw out a yellow stop card. “Would you be able to play on if I hit you with that?”
“No, ‘course not.”
“And 4+ cards work the same way.”
You keep staring at the bright color, lost in thoughts and traveling back to a time when the world around you hadn’t altered every rule of every game you knew. But when no productive result flashes through your mind, you suggest something else.
“Google it, then.”
“You can’t just read the rules? Hold up,” he pulls out the instructions from the package, already fiddling with the paper. “I bet the answer is hidden somewhere in there.”
“Have fun. I can’t read in this darkness for shit.”
Relying on technology for a minute shouldn’t cause a cataclysmic event, so you type in the million dollar question plaguing both your mind, soon striking it rich when a video materializes on the page.
Too lazy to skim yet another amateur post, you decide to trust WikiHow’s explanation clip, hoping for a fruitful result. Jungkook soon gives up the task he bestowed upon himself, cuddling closer to your misery to watch with you.
“Are we serious?” He breathes, laughing off the peculiarity of the moment.
“Watching a video on Uno rules?” You ask, giggling in unison with him. “I fucking know. We’re seriously weird.”
“How long’s it been since we played games together like that?”
You can’t say for sure.
“When we got this place,” you assume. “Didn’t we spend half the night going through board and card games? Because–”
“Because there was nothing else to do. We were sitting on the ground on some shit ass mattress.”
You laugh. It’s been a while – time truly does pass when you’re stuck with someone. You don’t think you’d ever trade the memories you gathered here for anything good in the world. Piggyback rides and cooking mishaps are a delight to store in the depths of memory.
Or moments when you very clearly, very softly realize that you’re falling for your roommate bit by bit; so much deeper than when you were still kids. For him and his touch. His sensuality, even when it’s unintentional.
Like now.
Jungkook grabs his water bottle from his side of the bed as the voice of the narrator chimes. The background is a bright green and the animation weirdly cute, but you blend it out when he reminds you of the plushness of his lips again. Wrapped around the bottle head…
When you reach the wild card moment, both of your ears perk up before you erupt in simultaneous chaos. Jungkook half chokes as he attempts his one-syllable-argument.
“See!” He exclaims.
“See what? He said, if the player can’t play any of their cards, blah blah... Which, in our case, is me.”
“No, but what player? The one who had the wild card? Or the other?”
“Fuck it,” you curse, clicking away without finishing the last minute. “Another video. WikiHow sucks.”
“Why do I feel like we’re both right and wrong?”
You shake your head in defense and with a furrow between your eyebrows, but the dorky grin on his face pulls out your true, playful emotions in the form of a laugh.
The next clip you settle on goes on for longer, seemingly endless – allowing you enough time to peek at the smooth curves of his silhouette.
His lips are jutted and the moving pictures reflect in his eyes. His button nose begs to be booped. A small dimple appears when the tip of his tongue pushes through the seam of his lips to hydrate them.
You don’t think you’re as subtle as you’d like to be, though. Because soon, he’s looking up, causing a sudden flinch. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
He blinks at you slowly, one eyebrow briefly twitching. “Oh. Are you bored?”
“No! Why?”
“Are you okay, then?” Your tongue flits along the inside of your cheek, muscles stiffer than before. He eyes you up and down. “You’re so tense.”
“It’s just… Just weird,” you stutter. Hesitancy breaks the flow of your usually confident speech, and you flick your inner self’s forehead for the obvious awkwardness. “Sitting in the dark.”
What?
What the fuck.
You need to get yourself together and come up with a wittier response. If he just let you – because he prods, “Are you scared?”
“Wha– Do I look scared?”
“You don’t look normal, at least.”
“That’s rude,” you scold, letting the device fall onto the blanket. Numerous wrinkles decorate your forehead, hiding your true thoughts behind frisky surface-annoyance.
His next words do not freaking help.
“Girls usually like me in the dark.”
“That’s…” Heat of an exploding star warms your already blistering cheeks. “That’s pretty lewd of you to say. And unnecessary, too.”
You’re pouting like it’s the first day of sex ed. Innocence expands your pupils harder than the lack of light in this room. Jungkook can’t help it – fondness engulfs his heart. You’ve always been endearing to an immeasurable degree.
“You’re so cute,” he drops casually. He’s amused by the side eye you give him, laughing when you exhale and rub the sweat off your hands on the blanket. “But seriously, what’s up with you today?”
He nudges your shoulder as a joke, and you hate that years of friendship couldn’t prepare you for a dark, emotion-altering night like this. Hormones and an adult’s desires are the devil’s advocate as much as Jungkook is himself.
“Nothing!”
“Have I done something weird?”
“You’re always weird.”
His shocked gasp dramatizes the moment, lifting the tension in the air enough to overshadow your inept breathing. Any attempt to keep your chill could turn out futile any moment now.
“Fair,” he laughs. “But also rude.”
His soft palm sets upon your knee and the plea you utter to your mind to calm your nerves falls on deaf ears. At his touch, you flinch just a fraction… And immediately, he pauses.
His gaze skyrockets to your seemingly sinless one. Lips part in confusion before his expression changes – like a bulb has lit up in his mind.
And then, the biggest change in topic occurs.
“Could you give me my phone charger?” Lifting his device, he lights up the screen to show the red, drained battery bar. He points to the bedside cabinet again. “First drawer.”
Right.
Jungkook doesn’t keep his charger plugged in at all times like you do. Scared it might burn off. You didn’t expect less when you decided to move in with your best friend, though: Not from the boy who declared his fear of microwaves and their potential to melt dishes ages ago.
You open and hunt through the drawer, surprised at the half emptiness of it until your fingers graze something you might not have anticipated. And then you realize…
Ah. Oh.
What if…
Perhaps that was the plan all along. Because when you look back at him, he doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. The calmness in his eyes is telling enough to guess his intentions – but you don’t want to assume for sure yet.
Your touch remains on the little–open–box for a second, one sealed package peeking out. An absolutely fresh condom… One of Jungkook’s no less.
What’s happening today?
“What’s up?” He asks, and you almost huff at the stupid, fabricated innocence in his stupid, soothing voice.
“I think,” you lean back, attempting a laugh. “I just found your most prized possession.”
“Ah?” He waits, and you nod. “Is that weird to you?” A nonchalant shrug of your shoulders spurs him on, the tilt of his head perilous. “It’s not the first time you’re seeing those, right?”
Ugh, yeah. You remember all casual visits to drugstores. The vivid image of Durex’ extra large Excite Me, and true to Jungkook’s dedication dotted for extra stimulation.
He usually cares as much about embarrassment between the both of you as you do when you place pads and tampons between his stuff. Why is it weird, then?
“Yeah. It’s just…” You’re stumbling for words. Fuck. It’s over for you. “Reminds me of some of your escapades lately.”
Jungkook hums. “Mhm. There weren’t that many these days, though.”
“I know. Just made me think of those that did happen, y’know?”
“Okay.” He’s still looking at you like he’s solved every piece of the riddle you are tonight. Not any less shameless, though. “Then… What exactly is it that you’re thinking about those escapades?” Huh… There are too many details you’d need to omit in your answer. But the way his stare is stabbing questions into you as if he already knows what you might say?
Yep. You’re fucked.
“Now?” You ask.
“Right now.”
“Nothing.”
God, even he must be bored of the constant repetition. What does nothing still mean in reality? Everything. That’s how your inner translator interprets it, at least.
This time, Jungkook doesn’t let your response slip. His hand, however, does. Up from your knee… Right to your thigh.
The blanket still lays in between, its fabric pivotal for the moment. If it wasn’t there, you might faint. And something in you says that the experience isn’t far.
“Is that what it is?” Jungkook whispers. His voice is deeper now, and so is your sigh. “That must be what it is.”
“Hm?”
“You’ve been tense ‘cause of that? Since soccer training you’ve been looking at me like I’m suffocating you.” Shit. Of course he’d notice. “And now you suddenly feel weird about being close and about condoms? Do you just…” He digs his index finger into your thigh, his cut nail raking your leg with too many layers in between. “Just miss being touched?”
“By… By you?”
“No, Pumpkin. In general.” You don’t have an answer to his quizzing. Or, you do, but you don’t know where it might lead… Nervousness clogs your throat. “Don’t you…”
“What?” You think you can foresee what he’s going to ask, but you put on a curious act anyway. Then, he drops the bomb.
“Don’t you touch yourself?”
Oh God. Someone tell him to shut up. The little workers in your brain are setting your internal office on fire, handling his lax conversation worse than you.
“I’m…” You pause to breathe in shakily, and then laugh to hide your bewilderment. “Of course I do. Everyone does.” You clear your throat. “That’s a really freaking weird and sudden question, though.”
“Not that weird considering how you’ve been acting today. Thought it’s PMS, but you just called in sick ‘cause of your period last week.” Damn, Sherlock. Of course he’d remember – your whining wasn’t subtle after all. And he was the one serving you every meal all day. “So I’m guessing… It’s been a while and things are just worse tonight?”
“Dunno.”
You’re blinking at him. He’s built a Chinese-Wall-strong barrier at the front of his mind, and you can’t peek through it to understand what he’s thinking. Or what he wants. What he wants you to say or want.
It’s incredibly suspicious to you… And kind of tempting.
“Not gonna lie,” Jungkook’s voice drops to a low whisper, his confession worse than you expected. “I think I heard you a few nights before.”
You rip your eyes open in surprise. Your heart runs up to your throat to start hammering against your vocal cords, and for a few syllables, you can’t do much other than stutter and gasp.
“You fucking creep!” You then blurt out, calling yourself a hypocrite internally in the same breath. It’s not like you listened away during his adventures, legs pressed together to create friction.
“I’m sorry,” he lifts his hands in defense. “But you weren’t exactly being quiet. Plus, our walls aren’t that thin.”
You know… Hell, you know.
But how is he initiating the conversation just like that? God, the absolute courage…
“Fuck, Jungkook,” you curse. You bring your fingers to your eyes, rubbing them rather than hiding your entire face. “That’s fucking embarrassing.”
But Jungkook softly brings your hand down again – then speaks to reassure you. Only, anything he says tonight makes matters worse.
“Would it help if I told you it wasn’t embarrassing for me?”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It just sounded…”
He procrastinates, his expressions calm but his eyes dangerous. Hooded.
“Bad?” You dig.
“No. It sounded hot.”
No. No, your heart and body can’t handle this. You might die if you don’t push his admissions into the most disbelieving corner of your brain.
Jungkook finds you hot? The sounds you couldn’t hide, he likes them? He means it?
“Shut the fuck up, I’m–” You begin, but he replaces your rebukes with a deep inhale and stiff muscles when he moves closer.
Your back presses against the bedside cabinet. Now that the flickering candle is melting down, its light is getting dimmer and the room darker. Bright enough to still make out his silhouette and most alluring features.
The phone has long fallen from between your fingers, hiding in the blanket and the video long over. Somehow, you’re glad you disabled autoplay – it doesn’t disturb the moment that’s clearly progressing to something dangerous.
But at the same time, you’re surprised as hell. Asking yourself silently over and over again, whatsgoingonwhatsgoingon.
“What are you doing?” You whisper.
“I’m just wondering.” His body is tilted, one hand still on your thigh. “When you do stuff to yourself… Is there something specific you think of?”
You shift a little, not answering. When he sees the surprise in your eyes and confuses it with fear, however, he backs away again and clicks his tongue. “My bad. Sorry for being like that.”
But you’re not letting him retreat now… Things have come too far. You place a hand on his arm and tug him closer subtly. His already big eyes look humongous now, positively delighted, even when you keep struggling with words.
“No, I just…” You try but fail as soon as you start.
“Why are you stuttering like that? That’s not you.”
You wish he was wrong. You’re more confident than this in any other moment. Crazy what one Jeon Jungkook’s touch can do.
You swallow hard, delivering a mental slap before pieces of your courage resurface again.
“This is new to me,” you tell him.
“What is?”
“The way we’re talking to each other. It’s not nothing…” You look down to seek the emoji on his middle finger, barely recognizable in the darkness. “And you’re… You’re good looking, Jungkook.”
“Yeah,” he agrees cockily, but you know his humility enough to understand he doesn’t mean it. Those are shameless teases, nothing more. “And?”
“You’ve always been good looking. And on top of that, I can always hear how you sound when you…”
Should you really go there? What if it damages something? Then again, it’s too late now anyway.
“When I…?” He tries.
“I kinda don’t wanna say it, and I know you know what I mean.”
“Ah, right,” Jungkook casually confirms, like he’s just realized what you might be pointing at. “When I fuck someone’s brain out.”
You suck in a breath.
“Don’t say it like that!”
“How do you want me to say it?” Jungkook taps his chin with his finger. He looks like a sly anime college crush. “I kindly empty their thoughts.”
“Shut up.”
“And rearrange their guts–”
“Oh my God, I’ll–”
Do what? Your own guts are pleading for a good, nasty and disrespectful mess. Wobbly pudding on his bed, your body is already melting at the mere thought… So you can’t imagine what actual ferity could do if he unleashed it.
Unknowing what to say, you look away, moving back like a proper idiot. But suddenly, pressure wraps around your wrist, fingers pulling you into him. You look at him speechlessly, parting your lips when he looks down at them.
“Is there something you want me to do?” He asks.
There’s a myriad of things you want him to do. But there’s slight doubt knocking against the walls of your brain and – ugh…
“Is it okay for us to do such a thing?” You question back.
“I don’t know,” he confesses quietly, his breath pleasant against your lips. “Say no just once and I promise I’ll back away.”
“And… And if I don’t?”
“Answer first.” He tilts his head, big eyes too pure and sweet for the conversation going on. “Or… Well, don’t.”
You remain silent. Hot blood turns your face as warm as a grill, and you look at him and his smile. Your heart rebels in your throat, but your thoughts are sober. So once he sees the clearness in your stare, he understands.
“Alright.”
It’s the last word he whispers before his hand wanders up your pajama pants. He fiddles with the neat knot holding your pajama around your waist, playing with it for a moment until patience runs out.
Soft fingertips tug at the end of the strings until the hem of the pants loosens around you. His eyes shoot up to yours, hiding menacingly behind his bangs. You don’t know what for–perhaps for permission–but you nod.
“Can you lift a bit for me?” His voice is soothing, calm and lovely when he utters his demand as a question. If you listen closely, you hear the desire, though.
You raise your ass, letting him slip the pajama down your thighs. When your body presses back into the mattress, your hands move to his face, making him look at you. The front of his tongue darts out, trapped between his teeth and his eyes are dark and starry. Lost in you.
His teeth let his tongue go, sliding it across his lower lip… Goddammit, you want to taste it.
When he skims over your panties and now bare thighs, your eyes blink close. He watches and adores your reaction; skims your dampness below. Jungkook acts as fuel, even though you’re already incredibly flammable.
The hums that accompany your slight wiggle are gentle, contrasting the losing of your mind going on in your head.
“More?” He wants to know.
“Mhmmm.”
“Okay. Good, Pumpkin.”
You’d smile at the ridiculous childhood endearment if the moment wasn’t so sinful. If he wasn’t grazing your pelvis, causing goosebump as he goes, pulling at the thin fabric until you lift once again.
He chuckles, a sound that reaches deep within your chest. “Good girl. Learning fast.”
Is he serious?
He can’t just drop a good girl like that as if he’s announcing a brief walk through a nearby park. What the fuck.
“Stop it,” you mutter, unaware why exactly.
“Want me to stop? We’re just starting,” he chants, his pout playfully childish and cute.
But the fingers. Oh the fingers rounding the skin right over the sensitive nub. Playing with you like you’re his own personal doll, wrapping you around his skillful, strong and incredibly beautiful fingers.
His touch drops deeper when you whisper an inaudible wish; whatever it is, he thinks he knows what you want. Featherlightly, he presses down on your clit, and you cry out quietly.
You fall back against the headboard again, your hands in his hair and tugging at the strands at the nape of his neck. One blink of his eyes passes and he’s snaking an arm under you, pulling you down and flat onto your back.
“You alright, yeah?” Jungkook makes sure, elated when you nod enthusiastically. “Good. Very good.”
His face is close to yours but doesn’t remain there: As he caresses your clit, shaking up your lower belly, his mouth dives in and finds home between your tits. He breathes you in before he presses a kiss against the shirt hiding your skin.
“Jungkook…”
“Mmmh.” He looks up at your chin, your head thrown back. “Say, Pumpkin…” He blows at your left nipple, well aware that you never wear a bra at home, and watches it perk under the shirt. Then, his teeth catch the material before he lets go and speaks on. “May I see those pretty tits of yours?”
“Nnnh,” is all you can give back. “Yes.”
Happily, the unoccupied hand lifts the white tee until he touches the underside of your boobs; his touch covers something you reckon he might enjoy. With his face hovering over yours, you wonder how long it will take him to notice.
Nothing yet at least.
His hand pauses there and then lifts the shirt over your mounds. He palms one of them, relishing your mewls. The sigh lets his voice fall some more, enticing when his mind numbing talk continues, “Hello there, girls.”
Jesus fucking Christ…
Why is this so hot to you?
His hair tickles your clavicles before his tongue does the same to your hard nubs. Wrapping his lips around your nipple, he pulls at it, then releases it to repeat it all. All while his fingers float down to your hole.
And then…
Palms pushing your thighs apart under the crumbled up blanket, he doesn’t wait another second before he drops to his side next to you and dips his middle finger inside. Slowly at first, easing you into the process, but it does nothing to avoid the sudden term that falls out of you.
“Fuck, baby, this is–”
You realize your mistake–mistake?–when his finger halts mid action. But once he proceeds, lifting his head to kiss your jaw, you don’t see a single trace of embarrassment or shame. No, he rather jumps onto the train with you.
“Easy, kitten.”
The new nickname forces your head to fall sideways to face him – your lips come to touch, but he doesn’t take it a step further. His eyelids fall half close, mouth not moving against yours; but you can’t really kiss anyway with the way he urges moan after moan out of you.
His finger starts pumping in and out of you, your walls contracting around him. There’s thought in his actions. He doesn’t just push in and pull out like a wildling – no, the curve of his digit, the tempo he chooses and the patch he massages inside you must be calculated.
Adding a second finger does nothing but amplify this feeling.
In his hold, you’re a little less squirmy than you might be without his touch. He keeps you grounded, controlling the wiggle of your body, allowing you to bite into your fist until he grabs your wrist and pushes it against the mattress.
“Nuh-uh,” he warns. Your eyes crack open a slit. “Stop muffling your sounds. Why would you?”
“I’m just…” You shake your head. “Self-conscious… Okay?” God, words are hard. “Y’don’t see me naked… Every day.”
“Absolutely outrageous if you ask me,” he breathes, knuckles deep inside you. There, he remains, merely moving his fingers inside without pulling out anymore. You hide half your face in the pillow. “Fuck, look at me.”
The danger and irritation in his voice sober up a piece of your mind, but the sudden emptiness when his fingers vanish shake you awake with a snap. An utterly wet touch trails along your thigh and then up your sides. He doesn’t give a fuck about the state of his blanket.
Letting go of your wrist, he pushes aside the fallen phone that his ass touches, and stops with everything altogether. Reaches behind him and then shoves the device to a far top corner of the bed.
“That’s good,” Jungkook whispers once he’s cozy with you again. Watching your breathing, dizzy form. “We don’t have to charge the phone and waste electricity that way, right?”
“Shut up…” is all your brain and tongue allow.
He clicks his tongue. “Alright, you killjoy.” A sudden slap to your overflowing pussy renders you speechless. But not him. “I’ll use my mouth elsewhere then, k?”
You’re still a mess in disbelief. Can’t comprehend that he’s actually saying those words in this exact constellation. You might think you’re dreaming if the squeezes of his hands and the dampness of his tongue didn’t prove you otherwise.
Crawling down your body, he makes sure to ruin every patch of your skin. He licks along your collarbones and gently bites at your tits. His palms love the feeling of your chest, nails digging in… And he only stops when he reaches a very particular something.
You feel his movements freeze clearly. He smacks his lips, and when you look at him, he looks surprised. Delightfully so.
“What’s that?”
There it is.
He watches your lips curl to a satisfied smile and your eyelids shut as he brushes his finger over the spot under your tits. Squinting, he removes more of the blanket, hoping the dim light of the candle might allow him a deeper look.
The black color isn’t as faded as the ink on his hand or arm, so it must be a recent sin you went for. You hum in innocence, opening your eyes again to barely catch the shake of his head as he repeats his question.
“What is that, huh?” He exhales the last word, breathing against you. Then kisses the skin underneath the tattoo. “You weren’t even gonna tell me about it?”
“Figured you might find out one day…”
He laughs quietly, hiding his fascination. But you know he’s still mesmerized, staring at the little thing, distracted even when he responds. “Is that so? You tease.”
Dipping down, an open mouthed kiss lands on top of your tattoo. His hands push your tits together, his mouth working on worshiping the tiny piece of skin that has captured him. His kiss is greedy to the touch, his breaths cold against the saliva he left once he lifts his face again.
“A crown, yeah? That what it is, isn’t it?”
The pleasant satisfaction in his voice is apparent, but you think you even hear bits of irritation – like he’s annoyed that you didn’t tell him about this. Like he’d dove into you earlier if you had.
“Hey, a lil feeling of royalty is never…” You stop when he pecks your tummy. His lips run along your stomach until they reach your pelvis. “Ohhhfff… You’re close.”
“I’ll keep going, alright?”
You let out more incoherent sounds, something between a moan and a hum. The anticipation is unbearable, but the fact that Jungkook is still fully dressed and his cock yet aching to be discovered by you might be worse.
With the blanket fully off of you, his lips explore your body, so close to where you want him. His right hand still lingers where the tattoo is eternalized in your skin, and according to his next words, his mind isn’t less hung up on it, either.
“Your tattoo matches mine, y’know?” He informs you as if you haven’t seen the crown on his index finger a few million times. The digit that’s digging into your hungry cunt again, along with another finger showcasing an emoji that must be looking like you right now. “We can both be royalty, don’t you think, princess?”
“My God, shut up,” you order. Your insides cringe, even though you’re sure you wouldn’t be opposed to him calling you that godforsaken nickname once again.
His giggle is Jungkook-ish sweet, but the hands that pry your legs open are not. Less even when he pushes them down onto the mattress as much as your joints allow, distracting you from the pull of your muscles when his nose nuzzles your pelvis.
The tip of his tongue touches your sacred part first. It’s just a slight dip, testing the waters. But your ocean is wild and its waves crash against the pit of your stomach.
“Didn’t think you’d be responsive right away,” he admits, only pausing to place a gentle kiss on your clit. “Then again, I haven’t seen a dude at our place in ages.”
“Asshole,” you curse, eliciting another deep snicker that vibrates right against your cunt.
Then, the jokes end and his stance changes. He takes a deep breath and then lowers his head once and for all. Leaving a trace of kisses riles you up enough, though things only get worse once his tongue darts out, starting a gentle dance in a captivating pattern.
He collects spit on the muscle in his mouth, pulling out the fingers out of you to spread your folds. Watching your pussy shimmer and leak, he laps up the arousal meant for just him. His cock stretches his favorite joggers, and he moves his hips against the bed for relief.
Buried deep, he moves to your clit to close his lips around it for a moment before he french kisses your pussy. Then, he repeats it all – only this time, the tip of his tongue moves in a perfect circle around your sensitive nub for a bit longer.
Slowly, softly, and then he stops.
“Wait…” you interrupt, blindly grabbing a patch of his hair. “Do that again. Please.”
The hushed desperation in your voice makes his sweatpants strain impossibly. His balls already ache.
“Like that?”
“Yeah… Yep.” 
You arch your back and let your mouth fall open when his fingers return inside you, tongue imitating the motions from before. For a while, your moans and uncontrolled, quiet, peaceful sounds motivate and inflame him.
But once he begins yearning for your taste again, he swaps. His curved digits pull out of you, thumb taking his mouth’s place and vice versa. Which feels… Just as dangerous.
His tongue presses into you, a hand shoving up your right, closing leg. Your thigh stiffens when it feels his fingers deep in your flesh, and when it relaxes again, it falls over his shoulder and onto his back softly.
Zealously, you plant your heel against his shirt, trying not to think about the muscles of his back too hard. Yet, drowning in fervor, you can’t help but push his shirt up, irritated that he’s still wearing so damn much when you’ve already exposed the last of your being to him.
He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t acknowledge your hints yet. Because his focus is still somewhere else – understandably so.
“I knew you’d taste like that,” he confesses when he surfaces to take a breath.
He knew?
You’re panting more than him. Speaking comes to you harder than to him. “Like what?”
“Like absolute heaven,” he exhales at your waterfall-sex, hot and shiver inducing. “Pussy gifted by the angels.”
Oh, you bet he says that to everyone…
“Please don’t treat me like one, though,” you beg.
“Like an angel? Don’t worry. I fear you’re far filthier than I might expect.”
When his words collide with his repeated actions, your eyes water. You whine at the onslaught on your pussy, squirming, and shake your head when your insides somersault.
“I… I don’t think I can anymore,” you foolishly say.
Your ears seem to block out any sound, your body revolting. The pressure in your stomach is intense, to say the least. Your fingers and toys surely don’t feel that way.
“It feels like that because you can. I promise,” Jungkook, however, assures. 
“This is the… I’ve never…”
It’s true. You’ve never had a build up or an orgasm like this before. Of course not: How could you if he’s drinking in every drop of the arousal dribbling out of you while rendering you wetter at the same time?
He sounds so goddamn lewd when he makes out with your cunt like that. Too filthy… You wonder how his lips will feel against yours if he’s able to do such magic down below already.
“It’s gonna be good… Okay?”
He’s wrong. Good is an absolute understatement.
The force with which your orgasm hits is worse than being run over by a truck. You internally slap everyone in your past who missed to make you feel that way.
You implode and explode, a swarm of cacophonic sounds oozing out of your mouth. You grab his sheets and his blanket so hard that the thoughts in the back of your head fear you might rip something.
Jungkook groans and moans along with you, his mouth and fingers attached to you no matter how much you move. A single tear flees between your shut eyelids, arousal not stopping to trickle out of you.
You’re still calling his name once the high comes down… Still holding the sheet, your vision still blurry. He licks and rides you through the end of the blast for a few more seconds. And when he’s done and you look at him, he’s covered in a shimmer.
Such a pretty boy.
“Hey,” he whispers joyfully once he comes up. “Hello.”
“Hey. You, jail,” you breathe.
You don’t waste a moment before you take off his shirt, eager and hungry. He laughs, cocking an eyebrow. “Why jail? Did I give you a bombastic orgasm or what?” He moves to lay half on top of you and licks his lips. “Shouldn’t I get free lap dances or something?”
“Jail for not doing this earlier.”
“Ah. Apologies. I’ll be at your service whenever from now on.”
The vow makes your tummy flutter. From now on? So he wants to do that again?
Nah. You must be dreaming. A fall night's fever dream.
“Good,” you mutter before you close the distance mutually.
He cages you in, beginning the kiss softly but urgently. His tongue doesn’t hesitate to seek out yours, and he tilts his head to deepen the gesture. Both your hands wander to the other’s face and hair, lips eating up each and every thrum.
His chest is warm against yours, hard pecs pressing against your nipples. It feels good, feeling him so close and intimate with you. No layers separating your upper bodies, melting into one… And that kiss…
As he pours all passion into it, you think you taste a bit of you on him, but said taste mingles with a lot of other things. The spices of dinner. The lingering sweetness of dessert. His thirst. The ardency that refuses to leave his motions.
“Hey,” he mumbles when he breaks the kiss. “I…”
“Hmm?”
“I really want you. So, so bad.”
The carnal desire is hidden in the moment for sure. But right now, listening to the softness in his voice, all you can and want to hear is unbridled longing.
Insatiable, you nod. “I want you, too. Please?”
“You… You don’t need to beg for it, Pumpkin.” His hips move against yours and you wrap your legs around him tighter. “Seriously, no need–”
His joggers are rough against your swollen pussy, but their harshness doesn’t compare to the thick bulge pushing into you. Moving down your wandering fingers, you push at the remaining clothing, shoving until you feel the bare, firm, muscular ass under your palms.
Hell, there’s so much you want to do. Like, slap it.
Lifting a little, he lets you free his cock, his sweatpants and underwear somewhere a little over his knees now. You’re ready to let him fuck you unconscious and into another universe before you realize you might not be all that ready just yet.
Because the throbbing, hot length falls heavy against your stomach. It’s thick and big and entirely unexpected. Not that he’s never boasted about it before or ran around without underwear beneath his pajamas. But fuck, you thought it’s the usual shit men say.
You didn’t think he was actually hiding something this… Generous.
“Wow, I–” You begin, but to no avail. Your screaming pussy distracts you.
“Huh? Yeah, what is it?” Jungkook purrs against your neck.
“Just. Can I…”
Your hand prowls from his ass to his cock, and you begin to guide it to your pussy slowly, opening up your legs more. Okay. You’re ready. You are. You are.
Only, Jungkook is not.
He shakes his head immediately, then nods towards the drawer inhabiting the condoms. You understand and roll your eyes, scoffing. “I wasn’t gonna do it anyways. But I’m… I am on the pill.”
“Yes. But you also forget to take it a lot.”
“Fair.” God, you just want him to drill you. Why’s starting so hard? “But I’m fine.”
“I am, too.” He groans when he moves over you, reaching to the drawer. “Still.”
You watch as he takes the package out, the foil carefully held between his fingertips. And in those brief seconds, you think.
His last hook up wasn’t so long ago. You wonder if he ever goes in raw with other girls… Wonder why he doesn’t with you but insists on protection. Less like he doesn’t trust you but more like he doesn’t trust himself.
You don’t ponder on your bumbling thoughts for too long before he smiles and sidetracks. “Hey, have you showered?”
“No. Why?” You answer, certain that the furrow of your eyebrows lays your confusion bare.
“You said you needed to.”
“And?”
“It’s gotten warm inside.” Aha… You think you know where this is going. But just for fun’s sake, you play dumb. “I still need my proper shower, too, by the way.”
“Okay… But we’re saving up on water, right?” You stare up at him in innocence. Godgodgodgod. He’s really doing that. 
Jungkook slaps your ass, and you yelp. “Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m saying.”
“Kook–”
“What? We clean up together… Save water. I don’t have to shower again in the morning and can sleep in. It sounds like an amazing idea, if you ask me.”
You contemplate his idea. In all honesty, you know that he’s aware of your teasing and fake hesitation – but you think he likes the act. If it was up to him, he’d probably want you tapping your chin and all, cartoonesque.
“You do shower long…” You then conclude.
“Yeah. And so do you.”
“So…”
“So what do you say, Pumpkin Pie?”
“Mmmh. Okay.”
His eyes blow wide. “Really?”
You grimace at him. He’s adorable. After all he’s said and done, he’s still astonished at your response? An actual dork. But you still nod.
“Oomph,” he says. “Imagining you under the shower.” He’s talking more to himself than anything. “Might be just a bit more insane than imagining you naked in general.”
More than a decade of being friends and a couple of years of living together should’ve suggested at least once that thoughts can’t stay pure 24/7. Especially when hormones raged and you grew a pair of tits, you should’ve known his mind derailed a little on at least one occasion.
Still, you’re surprised.
“Did you imagine me naked before?” You wonder.
“Are you kidding me?”
The answer shoots out of him like a bullet, almost as fast as he lifts his body to come to a stand. You don’t bother about an answer when he grabs the condom and something else, then offers you a hand, pulling you up butt naked before guiding you to the bathroom.
“Calm down,” you joke. One hand covers your nipples, even though you’re not sure why. What’s done is done already, and you can’t and don’t want to burn the image of you exposed from his mind.
“Too late.” Once in front of the bathroom, he stops, lifting a finger. It’s funny how casual your conversation is and how naked you are. “Wait here.”
Twenty seconds pass, and he returns with two candles in his hands, planting and lighting them up on the washing machine. This idea better not backfire.
The small room is cooler than his own, and the porcelain sink he pushes you against when you enter, placing the condom and the small bottle he brought at the edge of it, is even worse.
You shiver and hiss before his fingers grip your chin. He pulls your face to his own, bringing your hand to his crotch as his kiss catches your breath.
His warm, towering cock twitches in your palm, making you moan into his mouth. You attempt to unify your bodies, shifting closer, but he keeps pushing you backwards. Your back arches over the sink, and the kiss stops, his lips opening yours, suffocating against you.
“You’re so fucking hot, you know?” He maffles, stepping back but not without pulling you along.
You can’t wait to step back into his room later to investigate where your discarded clothes lay.
For now, you smile, delighted when his lopsided smirk matches yours. He kisses the tip of your nose before he draws a deep breath. Brings the both of you into the shower and then lets hot water rain down on you.
The liquid burns hot on your shoulder first, and Jungkook exclaims something incomprehensible as he regulates the temperature pouring out of the faucet. The procedure remains calm and quiet, unusual for a bickering pair like you.
But once he gets soaked under the water, shaking his hair out of his eyes just to push it back with his hands… You can’t keep your mouth shut anymore.
“Jungkook,” you whisper.
He puts a hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, stepping closer carefully. For a second, you think he looks at you like nothing else in the universe matters.
Your stomach bubbles… Your heart pounds.
“Hmm… Yeah?”
“I imagined you,” you tell him. “Us… Like that before, too.”
“Really? How?” He whispers back. Your vision is blurry – you don’t know if it’s the water’s or the moment’s craze’s fault.
All you know is that you want to remember his touch on your face, the shower warming your chest, trickling into your soul.
He keeps brushing back your drenched tresses lovingly and softly. You almost forget how to act purely horny, enabling tenderness and feelings until your nipples press against his torso and his cock moves against you again.
“I feel like you’d enjoy,” you near his ear, breathing, “sucking on my tits as much as I would.”
He grins.
“I’m more of an ass guy, though.”
On cue, he grabs a handful of your rear, pulling out a weird sound out of you that you regret immediately. He doesn’t bother as much as you. He’s busy staring at your lips and getting familiar with your ass.
“Right,” you say, distracted by the (intentional?) movements of his cock. You want to… You really want to… “Can I– can I suck you, ass guy?”
The embrace around you loosens up. According to his expression, he probably didn’t predict your question; but you think a man with a dick like his should expect that everyone wants to suck him dry.
But anyways–
Perhaps his surprise is a good thing, because the way his mouth drops open when you bring your hand to his shaft is priceless.
“Wow,” he expresses under his breath. “I’d be fucking stupid to say no, right?”
“Yes. I’m pretty good at this.”
You wrap your fingers and palm around his hardness, twisting your hand and alternating the pace. Your thumb runs over his slit, tempted to taste what already leaks out. One smile is all he gets before you choose to drop to your knees instead. Sacrificing their flawless state.
He shifts to the wall until his back hits its coolness, speechless when you look up at him, trying your hardest not to ogle at the delicious cock angry in front of you, and then stretch out your tongue.
You press it to the underside of his cock, making sure he feels you breathing, and then you shove his member into your mouth before it can slap back against his stomach.
Holy fuck, he really is hard.
“I believe you…” He says, his breaths rigid. “Barely doing anything, but it’s…”
So good.
First, you focus on the head. Swirling your tongue around it, you hum, hearing him hiss above you. You do your best, but you don’t know just how much you actually affect him.
Because from above, Jungkook’s point of view is something he doesn’t think he could even dream of. The sounds of you quietly gagging and slurping, constantly moaning and vibrating around him rile him up. The fact that you’re struggling to control your breathing, because you’re too immersed, apprehensive to stop.
And your lips, God, your lips, they wrap around him perfectly. He wonders what it’d look like if you were wearing lipstick, or how your non-waterproof mascara would run down your cheeks if he fucked your mouth.
You pull him out to catch a breath, using the pause to stroke him lightly. Leaning closer, you take a moment to rub the tip against your nipple – he seems to like it, because the bite of his lip is firm.
Then, you move your gentle touch to his balls and speak. “Is that alright?”
“I… alright?” He croaks, furrowing his eyebrows. “How about you suck me dry every fucking day, huh?”
“If I’m allowed to.”
You laugh a little, inhaling through your nose before you dive in again. This time, you let him in as much as you can take. Small fireworks explode on your tongue when his precum touches it, his cock twitching more between your lips as you suck harder.
“You are… Fuck, of course you are…” He permits, throwing back his head. Tattooed digits sneak into your hair, and when he pulls your head back, you disconnect from his cock with a plop sound. “But pause for now, k? Wanna fu–”
He can’t speak, so you guess you succeeded. But you get it… You’d rather he fucked you too instead of coming in your mouth. 
A hand wrapped around your neck gently pulls you up to your feet. His jaw is clenched and sharp, and his eyes are piercing. He looks so fucking hot wet like that, drawing out his tongue to run it between his lips.
His mouth lures you in automatically, your gaze frozen on it and already imagining his taste. But he’s a step ahead–though in another twisted way–when he turns you around without a warning.
He pins your tits against the wall and tugs at your hips until you’re angled just right for him. Then, he leans in to voice one single order. “Stay like that.”
His wish is your command, anytime.
Panting, you let the water pour onto you, waiting. The small bottle he brought, undoubtedly lube, is placed in the shower caddy next to you, and before you can blink twice, you hear a package ripping open.
“Hurry,” you beg, recognizing the amused chuckle you definitely expected.
“Chill,” he says. “Gimme just a moment, princess.”
“Stop.”
Another sneer, more apparent complications, but in the meantime he distracts you with words that leave you unstable. “Fuck, I wish I could go in just like that.”
You want to say he can. But you don’t want to risk another rejection like before… Your heart and ego can only take this much.
For now, you push the thoughts aside, only focusing on the fact that you’ll be railed by Jeon fucking Jungkook. That he’s turned you around to finally weaken your knees, to batter your pussy, that you’ll actually be having sex with him in no time.
Or whenever he figures out a solution to his problem.
He turns away the showerhead and curses at the condom or whatever, and you laugh, still bent in an uncomfortable position.
“Harder than you thought, huh?” You joke.
As a response, he exhales, then grabs your waist as he delivers a verbal answer. “My dick or putting this shit on? Because yeah.”
Apparently, dealing with the condom wasn’t too impossible after all. Because once it’s done, his hands are on you again, one pulling you in further by your hip while the other spreads your pussy folds.
Then, his fingers disappear, grabbing the bottle of lube to fiddle with the liquid and placing it back in no time. You can hear the sounds that smearing it onto his dick causes.
And then you hear it even worse when he brings those exact digits back to your cunt. He contributes the rest of the lube by rolling his fingertips around your entrance and then pumping into you a couple of times. You moan out, and impatience grows faster.
“Okay,” he says, his voice still steady. “You tell me to stop if it ever hurts, alright?”
You nod, and he whispers, “Perfect.”
And then, it happens.
And it takes ages.
Not really due to hesitation or anything like that, but more because the cock intruding your walls just doesn’t stop. The shaft, rich in thickness and length, penetrates you deep, already overwhelming, and you’re sure he isn’t even halfway through.
“That enough?” He asks.
You shake your head. No. You don’t think anything will ever be enough, no matter how intense and mind numbing things become. More, you want all of him.
“More,” you repeat, speaking out loud.
“Seriously…?”
Yeah. You’re as much in disbelief as him. But your body – it knows what it’s pleading for, what signals it’s sending to your brain and then to your tongue.
“Please,” you beg. “I’ll tell you if I feel uncomfortable. I promise.”
A groan. A deeper push. He fills you to the brink, engulfed by you perfectly. The ideal lock to his key… Everything inside you tingles and aches.
When he’s bottomed out, he shifts and you feel the movement inside you. Mewling, you whisper his name, his ears perking up as his already drained voice calls back to you.
“Move?” He wants to know, his entire sentence abandoned.
“Move.”
So he does.
Long, slow, languid and careful strokes. He pants behind you. The shower water is still a bit too hot, but it doesn’t compare to whatever the fuck he’s kindling inside you.
Whenever he returns back deep, you lose your mind a bit more. And whenever he notices, his pace fastens by a tiny, tiny fraction. Until restraint becomes a foreign concept.
“Fuck, I wish I could…” His sentence breaks as much as you do when his hips meet yours. “Wish I could keep the imprints of your hands on the wall forever.” He thrusts into you hard once, hands pushing up your ass. “Wish I could see you pressed against it.”
He leans forward, his wet chest touching your soaked back. Kissing your cheek and neck, you slip into the craze only he can call forth. Fucked by him in the flickering candlelight, romantic for a fly on the wall, but sickeningly filthy in reality.
You’re a fool, because the thought of romance rests in the back of your mind right now – so you add to the already established sins when his hand brushes your neck.
“Jungkook…” You purr.
His movements slow down at the call of his name. You reach out an arm and turn the stream of water off – after all, you’re here to save the environment and yourself. That you’ve barely been focusing on showering is neither your fault.
Jungkook doesn’t question whatever you do. You don’t think he cares much about his surroundings anyway, everything around him is blurred but you. His lips still roam your shoulder when he shoves himself inside you balls deep and then pauses there.
You whisper his name again, drawing out another deep hum right next to his ear, and then spit it out.
“Choke me.”
You wonder. If you hadn’t turned off the water, would it have frozen to ice, too?
Because the wall and the room suddenly cool down and you swear he’s stopped breathing. You press your underarms and your forehead to the wall, eyes closing and asking yourself whether you made a mistake.
But… But maybe not.
In the next moment, Jungkook suddenly laughs a little, quiet but enticing enough to make your scalp tingle. He pushes the hair out of your face and your neck, slowly tracing your skin downward until he touches the spot over your vocal cords.
His fingers lift your head, breaking the contact to the wall. Gently rubbing your jaw with his thumb, he starts wrapping a huge hand around your neck… Silently at first before he finally answers.
“Shit, you’re so much dirtier than the good girl I know.”
No matter how simple the sentence, something in it awakens ambiguity in you. The realization that you’ve successfully surprised him. And at the same time, the urge to remain his good girl.
You want to be all of it for him; want to be the only object of affection for him.
“Can tell you the s-same.” You gasp when he squeezes the sides of your neck, just below your jawline. “This isn’t–” Biting your lip, you pause, distracted by his palm. “Not what puppy eyed boys should be doing.”
He lifts your body wordlessly, only laughing at your words in delight. Still sunken inside you, he straightens your posture just a bit, careful to not apply any kind of pressure to your windpipe. He knows what he’s doing – sex couldn’t be safer with anyone else.
At least that’s what you know, judging the choking experiences you’ve gathered with other men or women so far.
He leans into you, kissing your temple as he hammers into you again. The squeezes around your neck differ: His motions follow a varying pattern; your veins pulsate.
You imagine his clenched jaw or his furrowed eyebrows. The furious look on his face that doesn’t really suggest anger but blissful pleasure. You imagine his teeth trapping his lower lip, dimples on his cheeks, wet dark hair restricting his vision.
All that combined with all the godless things he says.
“I can’t believe we haven’t done this before… But…”
A sharp thrust pushes you forward, and one of your hands reaches behind you to grip his hip. Good God, he’s so fucking large. Human anatomy and logic aside, he must be battering your guts along with your pussy.
“But I knew I’d fuck you one day.”
Oh.
He has no remorse. He’s either too trapped in you to notice what he’s doing to you or he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Either way, your faltering soul can barely still handle him.
“You fucking devil,” you only respond.
And the devil has the audacity to leave your neck to slap your tits. How dare.
You yelp and your sound continues when he pinches your nipples, soft at first before his nips become harder. Defenseless in his grip, your knees almost buckle, especially when he talks to you again.
“My God, you’re letting me do fucking anything I want.”
“It’s… It’s the dick,” you tell him, already embarrassed. “Too good.”
“Ah? Thanks.” Letting his hands drop from your sensitive tits, he finds your clit again – you think you might cry. “Little reward for being so good for me?”
You want him to elaborate, but you soon learn what that reward consists of anyway.
He caresses your clit slowly and gently, accompanied by occasional light slaps. No rest for the wicked seems to be his motto today, not that you can complain.
Because a minute later, his fingers combined with the reckless, now fast paced plunges throw your world into chaos once more. You scream out his name, barely able to breathe. “Kook, I’m… I–”
“I know. Let go for me, Pumpkin. You’re all good, okay?”
His promises and soft reassurances make you fall harder into the fondness you already feel for him. If there was ever a point of return, he’s annihilated it once and for all now.
Who are you to doubt him? So you let another mind blowing orgasm wash over you. It rolls in hard, showing in your broken moans and curling fingers. He holds you up on your melting legs, an arm around your tummy.
“Hold on for me,” he snarls against your cheek, and you try. You really try your best, but your body’s giving up, trembling at the peak’s intensity that’s shaking up your insides. “Gonna cum, too…”
One more. You can afford one more indecent idea.
“Cum on my ass, Kook.”
“Fucking hell, baby.”
That’s all. That’s all he needs.
No hesitation in sight, he steps back and out of you, angling your body again by pulling your ass back as much as possible. The condom falls somewhere next to you – you see it from the corner of your eyes before you hear the way Jeon Jungkook climaxes.
Which is: With extra guttural groans, a quivering breath, fingers digging deep into the flesh of your butt and–what you realize when you look back at him–with super uncontrolled pumps of his cock.
“Fuuuuck,” he moans when his seed shoots hot onto your bottom.
It takes a few seconds for him to empty himself completely, and he keeps swearing, keeps saying something you barely understand. 
But what you do understand, even though you’re absentmindedly focusing on his fingers spreading the cum on your back, is, “Gonna punish you for being so fucking hot one day.”
“That a promise?” You ask, still breathless.
He laughs. “Brat.”
The whole affair ends almost the way it started: Carefully and slowly, bickering thrown in here and there. But aside from the obvious fact you’re showering together, still so, so naked, there are more differences you notice when he lets the water run again to clean you up properly.
Like, his look. A smile you haven’t seen before, you think.
Very soft touches along your cheeks, fingers combing through your hair like you’re something fragile. 
Questions such as, “Are you okay? Was that okay? Do you feel good, Pumpkin?”
Also… The hecking forehead kiss when you smile and nod.
The mood has shifted, albeit to something pleasant, once everything’s said and done. He puffs out a breath, discarding the neglected condom. Before he wraps you in a towel, his thumb brushes over your tattoo once more – his eyes look fascinated and affectionate, but he doesn’t comment on it again.
He doesn’t guide you back to your room but to his, drying you up thoroughly and affectionately.
He lets you leave for just a moment, telling you that you need to come back once you’ve found stuff to sleep in. His behavior is odd, but instead of questioning it, you indulge in his tender care.
But in the end, he only lets you wear your fresh pair of underwear and your shorts, snatching your shirt to throw it onto his desk. He rummages through his closet silently and only speaks once he’s handed you one of his cotton shirts.
“Take this?”
His tone is different from how he sounded the rest of the night. Not demanding, but kind of questioning. His teeth nibble at his lip and then he says, “I think you’d look good in it… Just if you’re up to it.”
He doesn’t stutter or hesitate. Like he dreamed of this for ages.
“Okay,” you mutter.
Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, he waits until you’re done, incredibly ecstatic when you smoothen the fabric over your body. He praises you, “Knew it. Beautiful.”
Then, his mouth falls shut. The joy melts into something softer. His eyes drink you in from head to toe, and he lifts both arms to tangle his fingers with yours.
You oblige, letting him pull you closer softly. Tilting your head, you speak up. “What’s up?”
But he doesn’t elaborate. “Nothing,” he only tells you with a smile.
“Okay.”
“But–”
You knew it. There’s something he’s thinking of profusely and he doesn’t want to keep it hidden. Thank God.
“Yeah?” You spur him on.
“Um… Stay here tonight.”
…Oh. Oh–
After all the things that went down tonight, his offer still strikes you like lightning. There’s a dull thump behind your chest and a growing ache in your stomach. You don’t know what it is and don’t understand why your body reacts that way.
You should be swarmed with butterflies. But instead, a ball of something strange forms inside you.
Maybe because he asks like your room isn't right next to his. Or as though you’d be gone and out of reach for miles if you stepped over the threshold of his bedroom now.
But… You’d be insane to resist.
So you let him drape the blanket over the both of you, crawling next to him.
“Lemme–” He says. You don’t get the opportunity to lay against his heartbeat, because he does it first. An arm holds your body close, his cheek pressed against your chest. “Like that. Feels good.”
He tangles his legs with yours, sighing in extreme satisfaction. You’re sure he’s dozing off when you interrupt by joking, “We didn’t save that much water after all.”
His voice is just a mumble when he speaks. “You did turn it off, though…” You chuckle quietly, and he pulls you closer to him. “I’ll use the college shower for a few days, okay?”
The things he’s ready to do for you…
In hindsight, you don’t think it’s the physical attraction you’ve been feeling for weeks that led to tonight’s fiasco. It’s not hormones or his jawline. Thinking, your emotions might date back to a time you can barely remember.
Because those subtle sacrifices he makes, the caring statements, the love he carries for you that shows in tiny, tiny things. Platonic or not, a bond like yours was bound to make you fall as hard as you did.
You think you remember what occurred that set you on fire so much hotter recently. Just right now… It might not be the time to speak about it yet, so you stuff the secret memory back into your mind.
Zeroing in on the mention of college, you stretch sideways, telling him to hold on a moment.
“Hm?” He mumbles.
“Setting an alarm.” The phone screen lights up your face and you squint one eye shut. “We’re still college students, Jungkook.”
“Mmmh,” he groans in displeasure. “Do we need to go?”
“I mean, do you wanna graduate?”
“I don’t know. I could strip for money.”
You laugh, holding him closer to you than before. Fondness seeps into him, and you notice when he digs his ear harder into your chest.
“Saw you naked, so speaking out of experience,” you support, “I think people would like that.”
He hums again. You feel his lips graze the shirt he gave you. “Would you be my manager?”
“If I get free shows.”
Nodding, he assures, “Of course. You can count on me, mon capitaine.”
“Oohhh,” you praise, tapping his bare bicep. “You can’t just quote The Beauty and the Beast and expect me to stay solid.”
He breathes out a throaty laugh, sounding right from his chest. “Stay solid?”
“Yeah. Look.” You palm his soft cheek, ignoring the way he leans into your touch. Ignoring what it does to you. And he’s smiling, too. “Do you feel me melting?”
“You’re so damn funny, you know?” He tells you.
Your face warms at his compliment, and you think you could fall asleep in satisfaction after all. That is. If there wasn’t what he says next of course. Out of fucking nowhere.
“Hey…” He begins and hesitates. His voice is quiet and drowsy, ready to drift off. “All that happened won’t change anything, right? Between us? Because I’m… I’m sorry if it makes things weird.”
Your heart skips a beat… He might have heard it.
That’s what he wants? To not change shit?
To remain platonic, friendly, close but not close enough. It won’t change anything? Because you thought it would.
But what are you supposed to say? Here, with him in your arms. You can’t start an argument or disrupt the evening you gifted each other. The preciousness of it can’t fade…
“No,” is what you say for that reason. “Of course not.”
“Good. Good, that’s important.” You don’t think he’s aware of what he’s saying. He sounds so tired, worn out after all the things he did today. The way he bids tonight goodbye is proof of that. “Night, Pumpkin.”
“Good night, Kook.”
Why did things happen the way they did? How did you let your guard fall? When did he decide it’d be okay to take a step further in his bed, in the bathroom, in the shower, only to go back to ground zero?
All those questions could plague your mind as you begin slumbering away. But they don’t.
Not yet.
author’s note: I am! sorry for the ending🥴 if you made it to the end of my very first real fic, thank you sowww much! did you enjoy it? let me know what you think--send an ask or reblog if you’d like, i’m really excited to know what you have to say bc feedback and support means everything💕 
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jjungxkook · 1 month
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blackout | jjk
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⇥ pairing: roommate!jungkook x reader
⇥ genre: best friends to lovers, roommate and college au, fluff, crack, smut
⇥ rating: 18+
⇥ warnings: swearing, he’s just a bit of a fuckboy, bickering, swooning over/thirsting for jk (🤷‍♀️), a manually induced fake blackout? dunno those 2 are odd k, they play uno, a lot of spending time in the darkness, kook has no chill, teasing, consent, dirty talk, fingering, cmnf for a while, sexual tension, oral (both receiving), shower sex, choking, hair pulling, reader cries a bit, jk likes to praise, dry humping?, pussy and tits slapping rip (and some ass ig), making out🙄, manhandling, jk loves her tits and ass and plays with them (a lot), he’s sweet but cocky too, protected sex, dom + big dick kook
⇥ wc: 14.3k
⇥ author’s notes: this is a repost from my old blog!! i may repent for my sins. also i do not know why this is so long, i thought it would be 10k rip please i apologize. anyways, i really hope you like it!! i’m very stoked to find out what you think😶‍🌫️
⇥ summary: Utility bills shooting up like this should be an international crime. Luckily, Jungkook has the perfect idea(s) to save up money and make your night sinfully unforgettable.
pt1 || pt2 || pt3
The hardness of the bench is tiring out your ass.
It’s incredible to you what tribulations you’re ready to burn through just to keep your best friend happy and satisfied. The blazing noon sun is steaming your scalp, even though in the middle of fall, it really shouldn’t.
Fingers wrapped around the edge of your seat, you lean forward and squint your eyes. You make out the energized individual running across the field immediately. Nevermind that he promised you football but you got soccer instead.
You wouldn’t dare to complain, though. In the summer heat, lopsided beams and big, dark puppy eyes refresh you like the late night Tequila Sunrises you love so much.
“Are you playing or taking a walk?” You yell from where you watch. Childish howling and woahhhhs echo across the field, fists pressed against round mouths and eyebrows skyrocketing.
They strive off anyone’s praises, really, but your unfaltering coaching pushes them forward a good, humongous step. In fact, you only recognize about a handful of the players, though there aren’t that many anyway.
No one running around down there cares much about authentic formations. The game usually played with eleven screaming, pumped members on each side only consists of four per team today.
It’s entertaining: The constant curses that always evolve into dramatic compliments, the loud and ambitious handshakes when they score, and the testosterone dissolving in the air, but only after the scent has wafted straight into your nostrils.
And the verbal invitations Jungkook hands out to you every week with pouting lips might play a role, too, yeah. He doesn’t like to make you wait like he does right now, but he doesn’t necessarily enjoy distance from you much, either.
A buff man in his mid-twenties, attractive beyond Greek gods’ appearance, highly determined and ready to indulge in new hobbies – relies on you, even after years of independence.
Seeing you watch and cheer him on boosts his already steadfast ego, and he’s never failed to let you know that, “It feels different from when other girls scream my name.”
You wish you could take it as a compliment, but the consistent ambiguity in his (bitter)sweet words fatigues your heart. The beat of it is not so consistent.
The crush has been omnipresent since you learned the first steps of stupid algebra, but lately, something in your lower belly has shifted weirdly, too.
Today, the shift shows in the way you clench the edge of your seat.
You hear the boys announce the end of their groundbreaking, world changing match, though you can’t recall who won, and observe the languid steps Jungkook takes toward the bench.
Energy slowly dwindling, he puffs out a deep breath, unaware that something inside you dies when he throws back the damp hair. His white, sleeveless shirt is sticking to his broad, firm chest – the refined pecs, abs and bare arms might not have triggered your embarrassing drooling if the last weeks hadn’t changed your perception of him.
There are, for instance, the filth-riddled noises when he’s fucking one of his occasional flings to the moon. Or how those exact same groans of his repeat when he heaves something that perhaps does not even require this low ass growl.
The sounds when he’s repairing something at your place or stretching after waking up. How you wish you could add to those sounds by delivering your very own, unique version of the female moans you usually hear from his room.
You could blame it on sex deprivation, or you could blame the outrageous line of his jaw, but you think the walls of your pussy have deformed and become dick-shaped. Welcoming a certain something that's definitely better than your beloved toys, according to the sounds at least.
This yearning feels kind of weird.
Jungkook has stopped not too far from you. He lifts his inked, veiny hand to wave and then reaches for his bottle to hydrate. And hydrating he does – in a way so alluring that you think he’s doing it on purpose.
Flashing the jawline of nightmares, he cuts you from afar. Sharp, more hazardous than in his teenage years. A phenomenal bone structure, accentuated by the shine of the tiny sweat drops. Shimmering golden skin.
When he drinks, you see his Adam’s apple bop even from here. His bicep is hard, bangs falling into his eyes, and his pink lips wrap around the bottle so prettily…
Thirst.
You and he both know how it feels.
Your mouth shuts close before he can notice. Instead you cup your hands around your mouth and call out to him.
“You do know we have an appointment today, right?”
“Your dick appointments can wait,” he yells back. When you roll your eyes to the back of your head, mumbling gross, the dork chuckles. “I’ll be done in a sec.”
He wraps stuff up, running back to his friends, and claps his hands before giving everyone a last handshake-bro-five-mix. The fondness you feel watching his social side bloom is blissful torture.
Jungkook grew up as a timid caterpillar, shying away from crowds and public gatherings. Opening up took a while, so you can’t remember when he went through the process of metamorphosis to come out prettier than a Cramer’s Blue Morpho butterfly.
He's still somewhat introverted, but doesn't back away from parties anymore. Red cups fill with intoxication. Bodies sashay past him, some toward him to fall into his grip.
You don’t want to be envious – so you’re proud instead. You enjoy when he’s liked by someone, love how the others grin at him. A likable and soft person like him taking over hearts left and right either platonically or not is kind of attractive to you.
“I’ll wash up,” his voice declares when he’s standing next to you. “And then we go.”
“Aren’t you gonna take a proper shower?”
“Yeah, later tonight. College showers are gross.”
Your conversations are a constant repetition. The way you act around each other, your gazes and your actions were bound to become a routine – if not during your time growing up together, then certainly when you began searching for a place to share.
So his response doesn’t surprise you. Neither does the further waiting on the bleachers, pulling in your knees, draping your arms around them to press your cheek against them. Daydreaming and watching or listening boy after boy leave the field.
Despite the familiarity of everything, you still feel different these days.
“After last time, I feel like you’re asking for too much.”
The man, not exactly happy about missing a live match of tennis but not quite grumpy today either, leans against the frame of his door. White, wet tresses peek through his dark mane, an indicator he just showered to enjoy the calm day you interrupted.
Jungkook’s hair was as wet as his when you left the bleachers too, now fully dry as you stand in your old but cozy building.
How could it not be?
Considering the dozen stops between campus and your home, you could possibly dry an entire laundry in that time. Both of you are at fault, though – one of the million things you’re good at doing together is wasting money on stuff you might not necessarily need.
Convenience store, pharmacy and a flower shop to buy yet another succulent for your room. Jungkook pouted and frowned at you for the entirety of the convenience store visit when you told him the landlord thing wasn’t an appointment per se, but that he knew as well as you that you needed to sort things out.
Things being the impossible utility bills that keep you up at night. Things being both your stupidity to still halt in front of shops to acquire things like parsley and cheese.
Remembering just this idiocy and looking at the power your landlord’s eyes hold, you’d rather look at Jungkook than him.
At the shiny hair tips hanging into your friend’s eyes. The oversized gray shirt that could potentially hide the body he sports underneath, but his fingers are holding the strap of his rucksack, and the pull at his shirt is enough to make the lines of his chest visible.
But this afternoon is not about brooding over the edges of his torso. It’s about confronting a landlord who fortunately didn’t meet you in a hazardous mood despite his firm plans for tonight. He doesn’t complain about the weather today or seem elated because he found yet another new hobby, like he usually does.
He looks almost neutral, you think. You can’t read him, actually.
“Yes,” you confirm, exchanging a look with Jungkook. “It does sound like a lot, but you know you can count on us–”
“Dunno. You don’t seem to remember last time.”
The taunting tone riles you up, but the numbers on your bills haunt you enough to keep your calm. This is no time for an argument.
You take a breath and shoot another glance at Jungkook. His eyes are tremendously big and lips pressed together to an innocent, uplifting smile. He seems to sense your irritation, too.
“We do,” you confirm. “But c'mon, that's not fair. We’d just started living on our own back then. You know, no guardians to take care of us and all, so it was bound to happen.”
Not just that. The reason why you asked for postponing rent payment was because the two of you had been too eager and too stubborn to ask anyone for money. Ending up only providing half of the rent for almost three months wasn’t something you did on purpose.
But while you should’ve been more cautious, to some degree, it wasn’t entirely your fault. You had more college debt than you could afford only half a year after moving to this apartment, and Jungkook’s earnings weren’t close to what you needed.
“I really don’t know.” Yeah. The man’s doubts are kind of valid.
“C’mon… You know us, Mister Choi,” Jungkook tries this time.
“That’s why–”
“You can…” You suddenly interrupt, only noticing how things might backfire once you’ve already said them. “You could end our lease if we don’t pay you what we owe you this time.”
You think you can quite literally hear Jungkook’s heart stop next to you. At least that’s what his wide eyed, confused stare suggests when he moves his head to you. He’s voicing something in silent hesitation, but Choi most likely doesn’t notice.
Because before Jungkook can throw in his own–probably very unsure–two cents, hand coming up, the landlord sighs. He shrugs his shoulders, mumbling your last names, contemplates for a second longer and then… Agrees.
“Okay,” he says with a not-my-problem-nod. “That’s an idea I can work with. This month’s and at least half of next month’s by the end of the upcoming month, alright?”
You hate the constant repetition of the frightening word month, but on the inside you still jump and clap in joy. Both your and Jungkook’s expressions light up, your feet shifting as though you’re about to jump Choi and tackle-hug him to the ground.
Instead, you only gasp, clearing your throat and cheer, “This is! More than we expected! Thank you so much. Thank you for real for real, seriously, wearesosuperth–”
A palm stops the fast flow of your gratitude, and he only shakes his head and bids you goodbye with a thumbs up before he disappears behind his door. You think you see a fond smile, but your happiness might just be inducing pictures.
But who cares anyway?
Phase One of Saving Money turned out successful.
Once you enter your humble apartment, tension releases out of your mouth with your sigh. You slip your bag off your shoulder and into the corner next to the entrance, shoulders dropping. Every second with the landlord took a year from your lifespan.
Jungkook, always happy-go-lucky, isn’t as demotivated and grumpy as you. His steps carry him to your kitchen without a second thought, immediately scavenging the small space for an easy meal.
“What do we do now?” You whine, leaning against the dining table.
The sun is still up and it will remain hanging in the azure blue sky for a few more hours. But you dread the darkness that will descend after – not because it scares you, but because it means you’ll have to light up rooms for ideal navigation.
But lighting them up means raising the numbers on your electricity bill.
Jungkook, however, doesn’t pay much mind to your shattering financial situation right now. He’s humming at the pots and seasoning he’s scattered around on the counter, calm as ever, because worrying about something he can’t change right now is not something he likes to do.
“First, we eat. Am starving,” he decides.
A slight shake of your head suggests frustration, but the grumble of your stomach agrees with him as though to remind you of feeding it. He side eyes you and smirks. “I’m not doing or talking about shit until you’ve eaten something.”
Of course. Caretaker first, friend second. If you’re not on the receiving end, you’re the one giving.
You push your butt off the dining table and choose to introduce Phase Two of your mission, telling him, “I think we’ve candles somewhere.”
The conversation changes at once when you release your suggestion into the air. Although you might argue you’re still stuck on the same issue, given the intention that lies behind your idea.
“Are we– Ouija board stu– again?” You hear Jungkook call from the kitchen, every other word chopped off and eaten by the sounds of pots and dishes.
“I’m not ever doing that with you again,” you exclaim back.
“Huh? Why not?”
“You were moving the planchette!”
Granted, there was kindness in his cheating. The evening drained you out of energy and left you a nervous mess, eager to speak to your favorite late grandaunty and her deceased dog. Neither Jungkook nor you believed in the magic behind the practice, but he made sure to soothe your nerves anyway.
You were pissed when you noticed what was going on – but once the anger subsided and gave way to the realization that he really cared, you fell asleep with a smile after all.
“I swear on my favorite hoodie that I didn’t,” he defends.
“Lying son of a bitch,” you whisper, laughing to yourself as you kneel in front of a cupboard storing a few dozen candles and other shenanigans.
You choose one scented, thick one for each room, and then a few smaller, regular ones that you think must do. With a handful of them, you return to the still bright living room, placing each one where you want it later tonight.
You’re serious about your candles – the tongue poking out, eyes squinting in concentration kind of serious. Arranged in a rational way, you beam at your artwork, impressed by your own idea as if it’s not something human beings used to do all the time.
“Seriously, you’re so easy to excite,” Jungkook always reiterates.
Once you join him in the kitchen, preparing not only a meal but spontaneously baking a treat too, time passes significantly faster. In hindsight, you didn’t do that much today, but somehow it still feels like you sailed the world.
You barely realize when several topics have shifted and the sun has disappeared. The moon hangs bright in the dark sky, the brisk gust blowing in through the open windows. It was a pleasant day of the week, even though you kept freezing at his touch even while cooking, and you’re ready to finish it just as lovely.
Only, it doesn’t end at dinner and the day’s exhaustion.
“Dessert tastes better in bed,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve done the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. Since tidying up, you’ve suddenly become quieter than before and his eyes squint like they’re testing you.
“Okay? Then go and take it with you.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
He shrugs his shoulders, blowing a raspberry. “You’ll go and sleep already?”
“No, but…” You hum and think. It’s not that late just yet – and you don’t feel like tackling homework or any other taxing task tonight. “I do wanna eat dessert, too. Just thought we might chill in the living room.”
“I mean. Take it as an informal invitation to spend some time with me, but in my room. You don’t wanna?”
“Pervert,” you lightly hit his shoulder with a cloth when he winks. “Is that how you court other ladies?”
“Why, yes. What did you think?” He laughs when you shake your head dramatically, pulling your shirt back and further over your clavicles. “Nah, I was thinking of… Just chilling, really.”
It’s not the first time you’re joking in a way like this. It’d also not be the first time of you hanging out with him in his room, on his bed, giggling about stupid jokes or ridiculous cartoons. Or whatever.
But it’s one of the first times the thought renders you nervous. Like you’re perceiving him as more than your best friend just now, after all those years of harmless platonic cuddles.
When you don’t answer, he delivers another decisive argument. “My room is smaller. Less candles. More to spare for the next time!”
You’re not surprised that he sees through your little idea – rather baffled how easy it is for him to sway you. So you follow him to his minimalistically organized room, not one but two diffusers on his desk. The corner of your lips twitches.
The more you near his bed, the more your heart strikes. His mattress is soft and cozy, and Jungkook’s scent oozes from every inch of it. You feel engulfed in his presence so bad that the emotions of this noon and the last few weeks hit you like a brick.
“Wanna watch something, Pumpkin?” Jungkook asks once you’re draped in the comfort of his duvet.
He might never stop calling you that. Probably hasn’t let a day pass since elementary school when your mom and you decided to dress you as a damn pumpkin for Halloween.
“And waste precious battery life?” You scold with a cocked eyebrow. Your voice is quieter now that you’re cuddled in with him, but you try to maintain your cool.
Turning on the living room TV or light is out of the question anyway. No regular Thursday movie night this time. Blasting Disney’s version of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice for the hundredth time can wait.
With the no-technology-rule you established today, even unplugged devices shall remain for emergencies as long as possible.
“So we’ll act like it’s a full blown blackout, yeah?” He asks before he leans over you, pulling open the second drawer of his bedside cabinet to rummage through its content.
The small action forces your body backward, pushing you against the headboard so tight that your lungs fail. He looks unsuspecting, drenched in the warm light of the candles. You breathe him in unintentionally, and he smells of soap and cologne.
Wrapped in darkness next to him is already strange as it is, but it cannot compare to the oddness of how new his proximity feels.
You barely notice what he’s fished out until he waves it right in front of your frozen expression. An old deck of Uno greets your vision, the packaging as worn out as the cards that he pulls out.
He places them on his large palm before he begins shuffling them – staring at the smoothness he operates with makes you almost miss what he asks.
“Is that good enough, then?”
“Mhm.”
“Cool,” he holds the cards to your face once more. “Are we playing with seven or ten cards?”
“Take it up a notch,” your feeble voice allows. “Make it fifteen just for funsies.”
“Why did I know you’d say that?”
You shrug your shoulders, imperceptibly shifting away from the touch of his arms and hips. “Remember one thing, Jeon.”
“Yeh, yeh,” he taunts, his voice strained. He sounds as though his body is beseeching him to lay down and drift off – but something about the moment seems to be keeping him soberly awake. “I won’t let you win this time.”
Fifteen cards down on your lap, you lift your hands from under the blanket, pulling your set close to your face in utter distrust. You cock an eyebrow at the universe’s choice: Jungkook has either already broken his promise, or the gaming Gods have decided this round’s end already.
With the victory residing in your hands, his vow pretty much slips your mind immediately; it blends out how he still remembers your middle school matches. He really still recalls when you’d fume and burn – disappointed and livid when he’d reveal his picture-perfect deck, unused to accept defeat.
The game doesn’t even properly progress when the first argument of the night pops up. More than half your cards are still in your hands, both your words overlapping.
“Once you lay down a 4+ or color card, you’re not allowed to play again. It’s my turn,” you insist, his wrist in your firm grip as if he couldn’t break out of it whenever.
“I am allowed to play, though.” When he swings his hand, yours moves with him. Both your stances are upright, eyes blown wide and comically riled up. “Especially after a 4+. You're blocked.”
“This doesn’t sound right.”
“Look.” He slaps his cards with the logo upwards into his lap, sifting through the rest of the deck to draw out a yellow stop card. “Would you be able to play on if I hit you with that?”
“No, ‘course not.”
“And 4+ cards work the same way.”
You keep staring at the bright color, lost in thoughts and traveling back to a time when the world around you hadn’t altered every rule of every game you knew. But when no productive result flashes through your mind, you suggest something else.
“Google it, then.”
“You can’t just read the rules? Hold up,” he pulls out the instructions from the package, already fiddling with the paper. “I bet the answer is hidden somewhere in there.”
“Have fun. I can’t read in this darkness for shit.”
Relying on technology for a minute shouldn’t cause a cataclysmic event, so you type in the million dollar question plaguing both your mind, soon striking it rich when a video materializes on the page.
Too lazy to skim yet another amateur post, you decide to trust WikiHow’s explanation clip, hoping for a fruitful result. Jungkook soon gives up the task he bestowed upon himself, cuddling closer to your misery to watch with you.
“Are we serious?” He breathes, laughing off the peculiarity of the moment.
“Watching a video on Uno rules?” You ask, giggling in unison with him. “I fucking know. We’re seriously weird.”
“How long’s it been since we played games together like that?”
You can’t say for sure.
“When we got this place,” you assume. “Didn’t we spend half the night going through board and card games? Because–”
“Because there was nothing else to do. We were sitting on the ground on some shit ass mattress.”
You laugh. It’s been a while – time truly does pass when you’re stuck with someone. You don’t think you’d ever trade the memories you gathered here for anything good in the world. Piggyback rides and cooking mishaps are a delight to store in the depths of memory.
Or moments when you very clearly, very softly realize that you’re falling for your roommate bit by bit; so much deeper than when you were still kids. For him and his touch. His sensuality, even when it’s unintentional.
Like now.
Jungkook grabs his water bottle from his side of the bed as the voice of the narrator chimes. The background is a bright green and the animation weirdly cute, but you blend it out when he reminds you of the plushness of his lips again. Wrapped around the bottle head…
When you reach the wild card moment, both of your ears perk up before you erupt in simultaneous chaos. Jungkook half chokes as he attempts his one-syllable-argument.
“See!” He exclaims.
“See what? He said, if the player can’t play any of their cards, blah blah... Which, in our case, is me.”
“No, but what player? The one who had the wild card? Or the other?”
“Fuck it,” you curse, clicking away without finishing the last minute. “Another video. WikiHow sucks.”
“Why do I feel like we’re both right and wrong?”
You shake your head in defense and with a furrow between your eyebrows, but the dorky grin on his face pulls out your true, playful emotions in the form of a laugh.
The next clip you settle on goes on for longer, seemingly endless – allowing you enough time to peek at the smooth curves of his silhouette.
His lips are jutted and the moving pictures reflect in his eyes. His button nose begs to be booped. A small dimple appears when the tip of his tongue pushes through the seam of his lips to hydrate them.
You don’t think you’re as subtle as you’d like to be, though. Because soon, he’s looking up, causing a sudden flinch. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
He blinks at you slowly, one eyebrow briefly twitching. “Oh. Are you bored?”
“No! Why?”
“Are you okay, then?” Your tongue flits along the inside of your cheek, muscles stiffer than before. He eyes you up and down. “You’re so tense.”
“It’s just… Just weird,” you stutter. Hesitancy breaks the flow of your usually confident speech, and you flick your inner self’s forehead for the obvious awkwardness. “Sitting in the dark.”
What?
What the fuck.
You need to get yourself together and come up with a wittier response. If he just let you – because he prods, “Are you scared?”
“Wha– Do I look scared?”
“You don’t look normal, at least.”
“That’s rude,” you scold, letting the device fall onto the blanket. Numerous wrinkles decorate your forehead, hiding your true thoughts behind frisky surface-annoyance.
His next words do not freaking help.
“Girls usually like me in the dark.”
“That’s…” Heat of an exploding star warms your already blistering cheeks. “That’s pretty lewd of you to say. And unnecessary, too.”
You’re pouting like it’s the first day of sex ed. Innocence expands your pupils harder than the lack of light in this room. Jungkook can’t help it – fondness engulfs his heart. You’ve always been endearing to an immeasurable degree.
“You’re so cute,” he drops casually. He’s amused by the side eye you give him, laughing when you exhale and rub the sweat off your hands on the blanket. “But seriously, what’s up with you today?”
He nudges your shoulder as a joke, and you hate that years of friendship couldn’t prepare you for a dark, emotion-altering night like this. Hormones and an adult’s desires are the devil’s advocate as much as Jungkook is himself.
“Nothing!”
“Have I done something weird?”
“You’re always weird.”
His shocked gasp dramatizes the moment, lifting the tension in the air enough to overshadow your inept breathing. Any attempt to keep your chill could turn out futile any moment now.
“Fair,” he laughs. “But also rude.”
His soft palm sets upon your knee and the plea you utter to your mind to calm your nerves falls on deaf ears. At his touch, you flinch just a fraction… And immediately, he pauses.
His gaze skyrockets to your seemingly sinless one. Lips part in confusion before his expression changes – like a bulb has lit up in his mind.
And then, the biggest change in topic occurs.
“Could you give me my phone charger?” Lifting his device, he lights up the screen to show the red, drained battery bar. He points to the bedside cabinet again. “First drawer.”
Right.
Jungkook doesn’t keep his charger plugged in at all times like you do. Scared it might burn off. You didn’t expect less when you decided to move in with your best friend, though: Not from the boy who declared his fear of microwaves and their potential to melt dishes ages ago.
You open and hunt through the drawer, surprised at the half emptiness of it until your fingers graze something you might not have anticipated. And then you realize…
Ah. Oh.
What if…
Perhaps that was the plan all along. Because when you look back at him, he doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. The calmness in his eyes is telling enough to guess his intentions – but you don’t want to assume for sure yet.
Your touch remains on the little–open–box for a second, one sealed package peeking out. An absolutely fresh condom… One of Jungkook’s no less.
What’s happening today?
“What’s up?” He asks, and you almost huff at the stupid, fabricated innocence in his stupid, soothing voice.
“I think,” you lean back, attempting a laugh. “I just found your most prized possession.”
“Ah?” He waits, and you nod. “Is that weird to you?” A nonchalant shrug of your shoulders spurs him on, the tilt of his head perilous. “It’s not the first time you’re seeing those, right?”
Ugh, yeah. You remember all casual visits to drugstores. The vivid image of Durex’ extra large Excite Me, and true to Jungkook’s dedication dotted for extra stimulation.
He usually cares as much about embarrassment between the both of you as you do when you place pads and tampons between his stuff. Why is it weird, then?
“Yeah. It’s just…” You’re stumbling for words. Fuck. It’s over for you. “Reminds me of some of your escapades lately.”
Jungkook hums. “Mhm. There weren’t that many these days, though.”
“I know. Just made me think of those that did happen, y’know?”
“Okay.” He’s still looking at you like he’s solved every piece of the riddle you are tonight. Not any less shameless, though. “Then… What exactly is it that you’re thinking about those escapades?” Huh… There are too many details you’d need to omit in your answer. But the way his stare is stabbing questions into you as if he already knows what you might say?
Yep. You’re fucked.
“Now?” You ask.
“Right now.”
“Nothing.”
God, even he must be bored of the constant repetition. What does nothing still mean in reality? Everything. That’s how your inner translator interprets it, at least.
This time, Jungkook doesn’t let your response slip. His hand, however, does. Up from your knee… Right to your thigh.
The blanket still lays in between, its fabric pivotal for the moment. If it wasn’t there, you might faint. And something in you says that the experience isn’t far.
“Is that what it is?” Jungkook whispers. His voice is deeper now, and so is your sigh. “That must be what it is.”
“Hm?”
“You’ve been tense ‘cause of that? Since soccer training you’ve been looking at me like I’m suffocating you.” Shit. Of course he’d notice. “And now you suddenly feel weird about being close and about condoms? Do you just…” He digs his index finger into your thigh, his cut nail raking your leg with too many layers in between. “Just miss being touched?”
“By… By you?”
“No, Pumpkin. In general.” You don’t have an answer to his quizzing. Or, you do, but you don’t know where it might lead… Nervousness clogs your throat. “Don’t you…”
“What?” You think you can foresee what he’s going to ask, but you put on a curious act anyway. Then, he drops the bomb.
“Don’t you touch yourself?”
Oh God. Someone tell him to shut up. The little workers in your brain are setting your internal office on fire, handling his lax conversation worse than you.
“I’m…” You pause to breathe in shakily, and then laugh to hide your bewilderment. “Of course I do. Everyone does.” You clear your throat. “That’s a really freaking weird and sudden question, though.”
“Not that weird considering how you’ve been acting today. Thought it’s PMS, but you just called in sick ‘cause of your period last week.” Damn, Sherlock. Of course he’d remember – your whining wasn’t subtle after all. And he was the one serving you every meal all day. “So I’m guessing… It’s been a while and things are just worse tonight?”
“Dunno.”
You’re blinking at him. He’s built a Chinese-Wall-strong barrier at the front of his mind, and you can’t peek through it to understand what he’s thinking. Or what he wants. What he wants you to say or want.
It’s incredibly suspicious to you… And kind of tempting.
“Not gonna lie,” Jungkook’s voice drops to a low whisper, his confession worse than you expected. “I think I heard you a few nights before.”
You rip your eyes open in surprise. Your heart runs up to your throat to start hammering against your vocal cords, and for a few syllables, you can’t do much other than stutter and gasp.
“You fucking creep!” You then blurt out, calling yourself a hypocrite internally in the same breath. It’s not like you listened away during his adventures, legs pressed together to create friction.
“I’m sorry,” he lifts his hands in defense. “But you weren’t exactly being quiet. Plus, our walls aren’t that thin.”
You know… Hell, you know.
But how is he initiating the conversation just like that? God, the absolute courage…
“Fuck, Jungkook,” you curse. You bring your fingers to your eyes, rubbing them rather than hiding your entire face. “That’s fucking embarrassing.”
But Jungkook softly brings your hand down again – then speaks to reassure you. Only, anything he says tonight makes matters worse.
“Would it help if I told you it wasn’t embarrassing for me?”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It just sounded…”
He procrastinates, his expressions calm but his eyes dangerous. Hooded.
“Bad?” You dig.
“No. It sounded hot.”
No. No, your heart and body can’t handle this. You might die if you don’t push his admissions into the most disbelieving corner of your brain.
Jungkook finds you hot? The sounds you couldn’t hide, he likes them? He means it?
“Shut the fuck up, I’m–” You begin, but he replaces your rebukes with a deep inhale and stiff muscles when he moves closer.
Your back presses against the bedside cabinet. Now that the flickering candle is melting down, its light is getting dimmer and the room darker. Bright enough to still make out his silhouette and most alluring features.
The phone has long fallen from between your fingers, hiding in the blanket and the video long over. Somehow, you’re glad you disabled autoplay – it doesn’t disturb the moment that’s clearly progressing to something dangerous.
But at the same time, you’re surprised as hell. Asking yourself silently over and over again, whatsgoingonwhatsgoingon.
“What are you doing?” You whisper.
“I’m just wondering.” His body is tilted, one hand still on your thigh. “When you do stuff to yourself… Is there something specific you think of?”
You shift a little, not answering. When he sees the surprise in your eyes and confuses it with fear, however, he backs away again and clicks his tongue. “My bad. Sorry for being like that.”
But you’re not letting him retreat now… Things have come too far. You place a hand on his arm and tug him closer subtly. His already big eyes look humongous now, positively delighted, even when you keep struggling with words.
“No, I just…” You try but fail as soon as you start.
“Why are you stuttering like that? That’s not you.”
You wish he was wrong. You’re more confident than this in any other moment. Crazy what one Jeon Jungkook’s touch can do.
You swallow hard, delivering a mental slap before pieces of your courage resurface again.
“This is new to me,” you tell him.
“What is?”
“The way we’re talking to each other. It’s not nothing…” You look down to seek the emoji on his middle finger, barely recognizable in the darkness. “And you’re… You’re good looking, Jungkook.”
“Yeah,” he agrees cockily, but you know his humility enough to understand he doesn’t mean it. Those are shameless teases, nothing more. “And?”
“You’ve always been good looking. And on top of that, I can always hear how you sound when you…”
Should you really go there? What if it damages something? Then again, it’s too late now anyway.
“When I…?” He tries.
“I kinda don’t wanna say it, and I know you know what I mean.”
“Ah, right,” Jungkook casually confirms, like he’s just realized what you might be pointing at. “When I fuck someone’s brain out.”
You suck in a breath.
“Don’t say it like that!”
“How do you want me to say it?” Jungkook taps his chin with his finger. He looks like a sly anime college crush. “I kindly empty their thoughts.”
“Shut up.”
“And rearrange their guts–”
“Oh my God, I’ll–”
Do what? Your own guts are pleading for a good, nasty and disrespectful mess. Wobbly pudding on his bed, your body is already melting at the mere thought… So you can’t imagine what actual ferity could do if he unleashed it.
Unknowing what to say, you look away, moving back like a proper idiot. But suddenly, pressure wraps around your wrist, fingers pulling you into him. You look at him speechlessly, parting your lips when he looks down at them.
“Is there something you want me to do?” He asks.
There’s a myriad of things you want him to do. But there’s slight doubt knocking against the walls of your brain and – ugh…
“Is it okay for us to do such a thing?” You question back.
“I don’t know,” he confesses quietly, his breath pleasant against your lips. “Say no just once and I promise I’ll back away.”
“And… And if I don’t?”
“Answer first.” He tilts his head, big eyes too pure and sweet for the conversation going on. “Or… Well, don’t.”
You remain silent. Hot blood turns your face as warm as a grill, and you look at him and his smile. Your heart rebels in your throat, but your thoughts are sober. So once he sees the clearness in your stare, he understands.
“Alright.”
It’s the last word he whispers before his hand wanders up your pajama pants. He fiddles with the neat knot holding your pajama around your waist, playing with it for a moment until patience runs out.
Soft fingertips tug at the end of the strings until the hem of the pants loosens around you. His eyes shoot up to yours, hiding menacingly behind his bangs. You don’t know what for–perhaps for permission–but you nod.
“Can you lift a bit for me?” His voice is soothing, calm and lovely when he utters his demand as a question. If you listen closely, you hear the desire, though.
You raise your ass, letting him slip the pajama down your thighs. When your body presses back into the mattress, your hands move to his face, making him look at you. The front of his tongue darts out, trapped between his teeth and his eyes are dark and starry. Lost in you.
His teeth let his tongue go, sliding it across his lower lip… Goddammit, you want to taste it.
When he skims over your panties and now bare thighs, your eyes blink close. He watches and adores your reaction; skims your dampness below. Jungkook acts as fuel, even though you’re already incredibly flammable.
The hums that accompany your slight wiggle are gentle, contrasting the losing of your mind going on in your head.
“More?” He wants to know.
“Mhmmm.”
“Okay. Good, Pumpkin.”
You’d smile at the ridiculous childhood endearment if the moment wasn’t so sinful. If he wasn’t grazing your pelvis, causing goosebump as he goes, pulling at the thin fabric until you lift once again.
He chuckles, a sound that reaches deep within your chest. “Good girl. Learning fast.”
Is he serious?
He can’t just drop a good girl like that as if he’s announcing a brief walk through a nearby park. What the fuck.
“Stop it,” you mutter, unaware why exactly.
“Want me to stop? We’re just starting,” he chants, his pout playfully childish and cute.
But the fingers. Oh the fingers rounding the skin right over the sensitive nub. Playing with you like you’re his own personal doll, wrapping you around his skillful, strong and incredibly beautiful fingers.
His touch drops deeper when you whisper an inaudible wish; whatever it is, he thinks he knows what you want. Featherlightly, he presses down on your clit, and you cry out quietly.
You fall back against the headboard again, your hands in his hair and tugging at the strands at the nape of his neck. One blink of his eyes passes and he’s snaking an arm under you, pulling you down and flat onto your back.
“You alright, yeah?” Jungkook makes sure, elated when you nod enthusiastically. “Good. Very good.”
His face is close to yours but doesn’t remain there: As he caresses your clit, shaking up your lower belly, his mouth dives in and finds home between your tits. He breathes you in before he presses a kiss against the shirt hiding your skin.
“Jungkook…”
“Mmmh.” He looks up at your chin, your head thrown back. “Say, Pumpkin…” He blows at your left nipple, well aware that you never wear a bra at home, and watches it perk under the shirt. Then, his teeth catch the material before he lets go and speaks on. “May I see those pretty tits of yours?”
“Nnnh,” is all you can give back. “Yes.”
Happily, the unoccupied hand lifts the white tee until he touches the underside of your boobs; his touch covers something you reckon he might enjoy. With his face hovering over yours, you wonder how long it will take him to notice.
Nothing yet at least.
His hand pauses there and then lifts the shirt over your mounds. He palms one of them, relishing your mewls. The sigh lets his voice fall some more, enticing when his mind numbing talk continues, “Hello there, girls.”
Jesus fucking Christ…
Why is this so hot to you?
His hair tickles your clavicles before his tongue does the same to your hard nubs. Wrapping his lips around your nipple, he pulls at it, then releases it to repeat it all. All while his fingers float down to your hole.
And then…
Palms pushing your thighs apart under the crumbled up blanket, he doesn’t wait another second before he drops to his side next to you and dips his middle finger inside. Slowly at first, easing you into the process, but it does nothing to avoid the sudden term that falls out of you.
“Fuck, baby, this is–”
You realize your mistake–mistake?–when his finger halts mid action. But once he proceeds, lifting his head to kiss your jaw, you don’t see a single trace of embarrassment or shame. No, he rather jumps onto the train with you.
“Easy, kitten.”
The new nickname forces your head to fall sideways to face him – your lips come to touch, but he doesn’t take it a step further. His eyelids fall half close, mouth not moving against yours; but you can’t really kiss anyway with the way he urges moan after moan out of you.
His finger starts pumping in and out of you, your walls contracting around him. There’s thought in his actions. He doesn’t just push in and pull out like a wildling – no, the curve of his digit, the tempo he chooses and the patch he massages inside you must be calculated.
Adding a second finger does nothing but amplify this feeling.
In his hold, you’re a little less squirmy than you might be without his touch. He keeps you grounded, controlling the wiggle of your body, allowing you to bite into your fist until he grabs your wrist and pushes it against the mattress.
“Nuh-uh,” he warns. Your eyes crack open a slit. “Stop muffling your sounds. Why would you?”
“I’m just…” You shake your head. “Self-conscious… Okay?” God, words are hard. “Y’don’t see me naked… Every day.”
“Absolutely outrageous if you ask me,” he breathes, knuckles deep inside you. There, he remains, merely moving his fingers inside without pulling out anymore. You hide half your face in the pillow. “Fuck, look at me.”
The danger and irritation in his voice sober up a piece of your mind, but the sudden emptiness when his fingers vanish shake you awake with a snap. An utterly wet touch trails along your thigh and then up your sides. He doesn’t give a fuck about the state of his blanket.
Letting go of your wrist, he pushes aside the fallen phone that his ass touches, and stops with everything altogether. Reaches behind him and then shoves the device to a far top corner of the bed.
“That’s good,” Jungkook whispers once he’s cozy with you again. Watching your breathing, dizzy form. “We don’t have to charge the phone and waste electricity that way, right?”
“Shut up…” is all your brain and tongue allow.
He clicks his tongue. “Alright, you killjoy.” A sudden slap to your overflowing pussy renders you speechless. But not him. “I’ll use my mouth elsewhere then, k?”
You’re still a mess in disbelief. Can’t comprehend that he’s actually saying those words in this exact constellation. You might think you’re dreaming if the squeezes of his hands and the dampness of his tongue didn’t prove you otherwise.
Crawling down your body, he makes sure to ruin every patch of your skin. He licks along your collarbones and gently bites at your tits. His palms love the feeling of your chest, nails digging in… And he only stops when he reaches a very particular something.
You feel his movements freeze clearly. He smacks his lips, and when you look at him, he looks surprised. Delightfully so.
“What’s that?”
There it is.
He watches your lips curl to a satisfied smile and your eyelids shut as he brushes his finger over the spot under your tits. Squinting, he removes more of the blanket, hoping the dim light of the candle might allow him a deeper look.
The black color isn’t as faded as the ink on his hand or arm, so it must be a recent sin you went for. You hum in innocence, opening your eyes again to barely catch the shake of his head as he repeats his question.
“What is that, huh?” He exhales the last word, breathing against you. Then kisses the skin underneath the tattoo. “You weren’t even gonna tell me about it?”
“Figured you might find out one day…”
He laughs quietly, hiding his fascination. But you know he’s still mesmerized, staring at the little thing, distracted even when he responds. “Is that so? You tease.”
Dipping down, an open mouthed kiss lands on top of your tattoo. His hands push your tits together, his mouth working on worshiping the tiny piece of skin that has captured him. His kiss is greedy to the touch, his breaths cold against the saliva he left once he lifts his face again.
“A crown, yeah? That what it is, isn’t it?”
The pleasant satisfaction in his voice is apparent, but you think you even hear bits of irritation – like he’s annoyed that you didn’t tell him about this. Like he’d dove into you earlier if you had.
“Hey, a lil feeling of royalty is never…” You stop when he pecks your tummy. His lips run along your stomach until they reach your pelvis. “Ohhhfff… You’re close.”
“I’ll keep going, alright?”
You let out more incoherent sounds, something between a moan and a hum. The anticipation is unbearable, but the fact that Jungkook is still fully dressed and his cock yet aching to be discovered by you might be worse.
With the blanket fully off of you, his lips explore your body, so close to where you want him. His right hand still lingers where the tattoo is eternalized in your skin, and according to his next words, his mind isn’t less hung up on it, either.
“Your tattoo matches mine, y’know?” He informs you as if you haven’t seen the crown on his index finger a few million times. The digit that’s digging into your hungry cunt again, along with another finger showcasing an emoji that must be looking like you right now. “We can both be royalty, don’t you think, princess?”
“My God, shut up,” you order. Your insides cringe, even though you’re sure you wouldn’t be opposed to him calling you that godforsaken nickname once again.
His giggle is Jungkook-ish sweet, but the hands that pry your legs open are not. Less even when he pushes them down onto the mattress as much as your joints allow, distracting you from the pull of your muscles when his nose nuzzles your pelvis.
The tip of his tongue touches your sacred part first. It’s just a slight dip, testing the waters. But your ocean is wild and its waves crash against the pit of your stomach.
“Didn’t think you’d be responsive right away,” he admits, only pausing to place a gentle kiss on your clit. “Then again, I haven’t seen a dude at our place in ages.”
“Asshole,” you curse, eliciting another deep snicker that vibrates right against your cunt.
Then, the jokes end and his stance changes. He takes a deep breath and then lowers his head once and for all. Leaving a trace of kisses riles you up enough, though things only get worse once his tongue darts out, starting a gentle dance in a captivating pattern.
He collects spit on the muscle in his mouth, pulling out the fingers out of you to spread your folds. Watching your pussy shimmer and leak, he laps up the arousal meant for just him. His cock stretches his favorite joggers, and he moves his hips against the bed for relief.
Buried deep, he moves to your clit to close his lips around it for a moment before he french kisses your pussy. Then, he repeats it all – only this time, the tip of his tongue moves in a perfect circle around your sensitive nub for a bit longer.
Slowly, softly, and then he stops.
“Wait…” you interrupt, blindly grabbing a patch of his hair. “Do that again. Please.”
The hushed desperation in your voice makes his sweatpants strain impossibly. His balls already ache.
“Like that?”
“Yeah… Yep.”
You arch your back and let your mouth fall open when his fingers return inside you, tongue imitating the motions from before. For a while, your moans and uncontrolled, quiet, peaceful sounds motivate and inflame him.
But once he begins yearning for your taste again, he swaps. His curved digits pull out of you, thumb taking his mouth’s place and vice versa. Which feels… Just as dangerous.
His tongue presses into you, a hand shoving up your right, closing leg. Your thigh stiffens when it feels his fingers deep in your flesh, and when it relaxes again, it falls over his shoulder and onto his back softly.
Zealously, you plant your heel against his shirt, trying not to think about the muscles of his back too hard. Yet, drowning in fervor, you can’t help but push his shirt up, irritated that he’s still wearing so damn much when you’ve already exposed the last of your being to him.
He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t acknowledge your hints yet. Because his focus is still somewhere else – understandably so.
“I knew you’d taste like that,” he confesses when he surfaces to take a breath.
He knew?
You’re panting more than him. Speaking comes to you harder than to him. “Like what?”
“Like absolute heaven,” he exhales at your waterfall-sex, hot and shiver inducing. “Pussy gifted by the angels.”
Oh, you bet he says that to everyone…
“Please don’t treat me like one, though,” you beg.
“Like an angel? Don’t worry. I fear you’re far filthier than I might expect.”
When his words collide with his repeated actions, your eyes water. You whine at the onslaught on your pussy, squirming, and shake your head when your insides somersault.
“I… I don’t think I can anymore,” you foolishly say.
Your ears seem to block out any sound, your body revolting. The pressure in your stomach is intense, to say the least. Your fingers and toys surely don’t feel that way.
“It feels like that because you can. I promise,” Jungkook, however, assures.
“This is the… I’ve never…”
It’s true. You’ve never had a build up or an orgasm like this before. Of course not: How could you if he’s drinking in every drop of the arousal dribbling out of you while rendering you wetter at the same time?
He sounds so goddamn lewd when he makes out with your cunt like that. Too filthy… You wonder how his lips will feel against yours if he’s able to do such magic down below already.
“It’s gonna be good… Okay?”
He’s wrong. Good is an absolute understatement.
The force with which your orgasm hits is worse than being run over by a truck. You internally slap everyone in your past who missed to make you feel that way.
You implode and explode, a swarm of cacophonic sounds oozing out of your mouth. You grab his sheets and his blanket so hard that the thoughts in the back of your head fear you might rip something.
Jungkook groans and moans along with you, his mouth and fingers attached to you no matter how much you move. A single tear flees between your shut eyelids, arousal not stopping to trickle out of you.
You’re still calling his name once the high comes down… Still holding the sheet, your vision still blurry. He licks and rides you through the end of the blast for a few more seconds. And when he’s done and you look at him, he’s covered in a shimmer.
Such a pretty boy.
“Hey,” he whispers joyfully once he comes up. “Hello.”
“Hey. You, jail,” you breathe.
You don’t waste a moment before you take off his shirt, eager and hungry. He laughs, cocking an eyebrow. “Why jail? Did I give you a bombastic orgasm or what?” He moves to lay half on top of you and licks his lips. “Shouldn’t I get free lap dances or something?”
“Jail for not doing this earlier.”
“Ah. Apologies. I’ll be at your service whenever from now on.”
The vow makes your tummy flutter. From now on? So he wants to do that again?
Nah. You must be dreaming. A fall night's fever dream.
“Good,” you mutter before you close the distance mutually.
He cages you in, beginning the kiss softly but urgently. His tongue doesn’t hesitate to seek out yours, and he tilts his head to deepen the gesture. Both your hands wander to the other’s face and hair, lips eating up each and every thrum.
His chest is warm against yours, hard pecs pressing against your nipples. It feels good, feeling him so close and intimate with you. No layers separating your upper bodies, melting into one… And that kiss…
As he pours all passion into it, you think you taste a bit of you on him, but said taste mingles with a lot of other things. The spices of dinner. The lingering sweetness of dessert. His thirst. The ardency that refuses to leave his motions.
“Hey,” he mumbles when he breaks the kiss. “I…”
“Hmm?”
“I really want you. So, so bad.”
The carnal desire is hidden in the moment for sure. But right now, listening to the softness in his voice, all you can and want to hear is unbridled longing.
Insatiable, you nod. “I want you, too. Please?”
“You… You don’t need to beg for it, Pumpkin.” His hips move against yours and you wrap your legs around him tighter. “Seriously, no need–”
His joggers are rough against your swollen pussy, but their harshness doesn’t compare to the thick bulge pushing into you. Moving down your wandering fingers, you push at the remaining clothing, shoving until you feel the bare, firm, muscular ass under your palms.
Hell, there’s so much you want to do. Like, slap it.
Lifting a little, he lets you free his cock, his sweatpants and underwear somewhere a little over his knees now. You’re ready to let him fuck you unconscious and into another universe before you realize you might not be all that ready just yet.
Because the throbbing, hot length falls heavy against your stomach. It’s thick and big and entirely unexpected. Not that he’s never boasted about it before or ran around without underwear beneath his pajamas. But fuck, you thought it’s the usual shit men say.
You didn’t think he was actually hiding something this… Generous.
“Wow, I–” You begin, but to no avail. Your screaming pussy distracts you.
“Huh? Yeah, what is it?” Jungkook purrs against your neck.
“Just. Can I…”
Your hand prowls from his ass to his cock, and you begin to guide it to your pussy slowly, opening up your legs more. Okay. You’re ready. You are. You are.
Only, Jungkook is not.
He shakes his head immediately, then nods towards the drawer inhabiting the condoms. You understand and roll your eyes, scoffing. “I wasn’t gonna do it anyways. But I’m… I am on the pill.”
“Yes. But you also forget to take it a lot.”
“Fair.” God, you just want him to drill you. Why’s starting so hard? “But I’m fine.”
“I am, too.” He groans when he moves over you, reaching to the drawer. “Still.”
You watch as he takes the package out, the foil carefully held between his fingertips. And in those brief seconds, you think.
His last hook up wasn’t so long ago. You wonder if he ever goes in raw with other girls… Wonder why he doesn’t with you but insists on protection. Less like he doesn’t trust you but more like he doesn’t trust himself.
You don’t ponder on your bumbling thoughts for too long before he smiles and sidetracks. “Hey, have you showered?”
“No. Why?” You answer, certain that the furrow of your eyebrows lays your confusion bare.
“You said you needed to.”
“And?”
“It’s gotten warm inside.” Aha… You think you know where this is going. But just for fun’s sake, you play dumb. “I still need my proper shower, too, by the way.”
“Okay… But we’re saving up on water, right?” You stare up at him in innocence. Godgodgodgod. He’s really doing that.
Jungkook slaps your ass, and you yelp. “Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m saying.”
“Kook–”
“What? We clean up together… Save water. I don’t have to shower again in the morning and can sleep in. It sounds like an amazing idea, if you ask me.”
You contemplate his idea. In all honesty, you know that he’s aware of your teasing and fake hesitation – but you think he likes the act. If it was up to him, he’d probably want you tapping your chin and all, cartoonesque.
“You do shower long…” You then conclude.
“Yeah. And so do you.”
“So…”
“So what do you say, Pumpkin Pie?”
“Mmmh. Okay.”
His eyes blow wide. “Really?”
You grimace at him. He’s adorable. After all he’s said and done, he’s still astonished at your response? An actual dork. But you still nod.
“Oomph,” he says. “Imagining you under the shower.” He’s talking more to himself than anything. “Might be just a bit more insane than imagining you naked in general.”
More than a decade of being friends and a couple of years of living together should’ve suggested at least once that thoughts can’t stay pure 24/7. Especially when hormones raged and you grew a pair of tits, you should’ve known his mind derailed a little on at least one occasion.
Still, you’re surprised.
“Did you imagine me naked before?” You wonder.
“Are you kidding me?”
The answer shoots out of him like a bullet, almost as fast as he lifts his body to come to a stand. You don’t bother about an answer when he grabs the condom and something else, then offers you a hand, pulling you up butt naked before guiding you to the bathroom.
“Calm down,” you joke. One hand covers your nipples, even though you’re not sure why. What’s done is done already, and you can’t and don’t want to burn the image of you exposed from his mind.
“Too late.” Once in front of the bathroom, he stops, lifting a finger. It’s funny how casual your conversation is and how naked you are. “Wait here.”
Twenty seconds pass, and he returns with two candles in his hands, planting and lighting them up on the washing machine. This idea better not backfire.
The small room is cooler than his own, and the porcelain sink he pushes you against when you enter, placing the condom and the small bottle he brought at the edge of it, is even worse.
You shiver and hiss before his fingers grip your chin. He pulls your face to his own, bringing your hand to his crotch as his kiss catches your breath.
His warm, towering cock twitches in your palm, making you moan into his mouth. You attempt to unify your bodies, shifting closer, but he keeps pushing you backwards. Your back arches over the sink, and the kiss stops, his lips opening yours, suffocating against you.
“You’re so fucking hot, you know?” He maffles, stepping back but not without pulling you along.
You can’t wait to step back into his room later to investigate where your discarded clothes lay.
For now, you smile, delighted when his lopsided smirk matches yours. He kisses the tip of your nose before he draws a deep breath. Brings the both of you into the shower and then lets hot water rain down on you.
The liquid burns hot on your shoulder first, and Jungkook exclaims something incomprehensible as he regulates the temperature pouring out of the faucet. The procedure remains calm and quiet, unusual for a bickering pair like you.
But once he gets soaked under the water, shaking his hair out of his eyes just to push it back with his hands… You can’t keep your mouth shut anymore.
“Jungkook,” you whisper.
He puts a hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, stepping closer carefully. For a second, you think he looks at you like nothing else in the universe matters.
Your stomach bubbles… Your heart pounds.
“Hmm… Yeah?”
“I imagined you,” you tell him. “Us… Like that before, too.”
“Really? How?” He whispers back. Your vision is blurry – you don’t know if it’s the water’s or the moment’s craze’s fault.
All you know is that you want to remember his touch on your face, the shower warming your chest, trickling into your soul.
He keeps brushing back your drenched tresses lovingly and softly. You almost forget how to act purely horny, enabling tenderness and feelings until your nipples press against his torso and his cock moves against you again.
“I feel like you’d enjoy,” you near his ear, breathing, “sucking on my tits as much as I would.”
He grins.
“I’m more of an ass guy, though.”
On cue, he grabs a handful of your rear, pulling out a weird sound out of you that you regret immediately. He doesn’t bother as much as you. He’s busy staring at your lips and getting familiar with your ass.
“Right,” you say, distracted by the (intentional?) movements of his cock. You want to… You really want to… “Can I– can I suck you, ass guy?”
The embrace around you loosens up. According to his expression, he probably didn’t predict your question; but you think a man with a dick like his should expect that everyone wants to suck him dry.
But anyways–
Perhaps his surprise is a good thing, because the way his mouth drops open when you bring your hand to his shaft is priceless.
“Wow,” he expresses under his breath. “I’d be fucking stupid to say no, right?”
“Yes. I’m pretty good at this.”
You wrap your fingers and palm around his hardness, twisting your hand and alternating the pace. Your thumb runs over his slit, tempted to taste what already leaks out. One smile is all he gets before you choose to drop to your knees instead. Sacrificing their flawless state.
He shifts to the wall until his back hits its coolness, speechless when you look up at him, trying your hardest not to ogle at the delicious cock angry in front of you, and then stretch out your tongue.
You press it to the underside of his cock, making sure he feels you breathing, and then you shove his member into your mouth before it can slap back against his stomach.
Holy fuck, he really is hard.
“I believe you…” He says, his breaths rigid. “Barely doing anything, but it’s…”
So good.
First, you focus on the head. Swirling your tongue around it, you hum, hearing him hiss above you. You do your best, but you don’t know just how much you actually affect him.
Because from above, Jungkook’s point of view is something he doesn’t think he could even dream of. The sounds of you quietly gagging and slurping, constantly moaning and vibrating around him rile him up. The fact that you’re struggling to control your breathing, because you’re too immersed, apprehensive to stop.
And your lips, God, your lips, they wrap around him perfectly. He wonders what it’d look like if you were wearing lipstick, or how your non-waterproof mascara would run down your cheeks if he fucked your mouth.
You pull him out to catch a breath, using the pause to stroke him lightly. Leaning closer, you take a moment to rub the tip against your nipple – he seems to like it, because the bite of his lip is firm.
Then, you move your gentle touch to his balls and speak. “Is that alright?”
“I… alright?” He croaks, furrowing his eyebrows. “How about you suck me dry every fucking day, huh?”
“If I’m allowed to.”
You laugh a little, inhaling through your nose before you dive in again. This time, you let him in as much as you can take. Small fireworks explode on your tongue when his precum touches it, his cock twitching more between your lips as you suck harder.
“You are… Fuck, of course you are…” He permits, throwing back his head. Tattooed digits sneak into your hair, and when he pulls your head back, you disconnect from his cock with a plop sound. “But pause for now, k? Wanna fu–”
He can’t speak, so you guess you succeeded. But you get it… You’d rather he fucked you too instead of coming in your mouth.
A hand wrapped around your neck gently pulls you up to your feet. His jaw is clenched and sharp, and his eyes are piercing. He looks so fucking hot wet like that, drawing out his tongue to run it between his lips.
His mouth lures you in automatically, your gaze frozen on it and already imagining his taste. But he’s a step ahead–though in another twisted way–when he turns you around without a warning.
He pins your tits against the wall and tugs at your hips until you’re angled just right for him. Then, he leans in to voice one single order. “Stay like that.”
His wish is your command, anytime.
Panting, you let the water pour onto you, waiting. The small bottle he brought, undoubtedly lube, is placed in the shower caddy next to you, and before you can blink twice, you hear a package ripping open.
“Hurry,” you beg, recognizing the amused chuckle you definitely expected.
“Chill,” he says. “Gimme just a moment, princess.”
“Stop.”
Another sneer, more apparent complications, but in the meantime he distracts you with words that leave you unstable. “Fuck, I wish I could go in just like that.”
You want to say he can. But you don’t want to risk another rejection like before… Your heart and ego can only take this much.
For now, you push the thoughts aside, only focusing on the fact that you’ll be railed by Jeon fucking Jungkook. That he’s turned you around to finally weaken your knees, to batter your pussy, that you’ll actually be having sex with him in no time.
Or whenever he figures out a solution to his problem.
He turns away the showerhead and curses at the condom or whatever, and you laugh, still bent in an uncomfortable position.
“Harder than you thought, huh?” You joke.
As a response, he exhales, then grabs your waist as he delivers a verbal answer. “My dick or putting this shit on? Because yeah.”
Apparently, dealing with the condom wasn’t too impossible after all. Because once it’s done, his hands are on you again, one pulling you in further by your hip while the other spreads your pussy folds.
Then, his fingers disappear, grabbing the bottle of lube to fiddle with the liquid and placing it back in no time. You can hear the sounds that smearing it onto his dick causes.
And then you hear it even worse when he brings those exact digits back to your cunt. He contributes the rest of the lube by rolling his fingertips around your entrance and then pumping into you a couple of times. You moan out, and impatience grows faster.
“Okay,” he says, his voice still steady. “You tell me to stop if it ever hurts, alright?”
You nod, and he whispers, “Perfect.”
And then, it happens.
And it takes ages.
Not really due to hesitation or anything like that, but more because the cock intruding your walls just doesn’t stop. The shaft, rich in thickness and length, penetrates you deep, already overwhelming, and you’re sure he isn’t even halfway through.
“That enough?” He asks.
You shake your head. No. You don’t think anything will ever be enough, no matter how intense and mind numbing things become. More, you want all of him.
“More,” you repeat, speaking out loud.
“Seriously…?”
Yeah. You’re as much in disbelief as him. But your body – it knows what it’s pleading for, what signals it’s sending to your brain and then to your tongue.
“Please,” you beg. “I’ll tell you if I feel uncomfortable. I promise.”
A groan. A deeper push. He fills you to the brink, engulfed by you perfectly. The ideal lock to his key… Everything inside you tingles and aches.
When he’s bottomed out, he shifts and you feel the movement inside you. Mewling, you whisper his name, his ears perking up as his already drained voice calls back to you.
“Move?” He wants to know, his entire sentence abandoned.
“Move.”
So he does.
Long, slow, languid and careful strokes. He pants behind you. The shower water is still a bit too hot, but it doesn’t compare to whatever the fuck he’s kindling inside you.
Whenever he returns back deep, you lose your mind a bit more. And whenever he notices, his pace fastens by a tiny, tiny fraction. Until restraint becomes a foreign concept.
“Fuck, I wish I could…” His sentence breaks as much as you do when his hips meet yours. “Wish I could keep the imprints of your hands on the wall forever.” He thrusts into you hard once, hands pushing up your ass. “Wish I could see you pressed against it.”
He leans forward, his wet chest touching your soaked back. Kissing your cheek and neck, you slip into the craze only he can call forth. Fucked by him in the flickering candlelight, romantic for a fly on the wall, but sickeningly filthy in reality.
You’re a fool, because the thought of romance rests in the back of your mind right now – so you add to the already established sins when his hand brushes your neck.
“Jungkook…” You purr.
His movements slow down at the call of his name. You reach out an arm and turn the stream of water off – after all, you’re here to save the environment and yourself. That you’ve barely been focusing on showering is neither your fault.
Jungkook doesn’t question whatever you do. You don’t think he cares much about his surroundings anyway, everything around him is blurred but you. His lips still roam your shoulder when he shoves himself inside you balls deep and then pauses there.
You whisper his name again, drawing out another deep hum right next to his ear, and then spit it out.
“Choke me.”
You wonder. If you hadn’t turned off the water, would it have frozen to ice, too?
Because the wall and the room suddenly cool down and you swear he’s stopped breathing. You press your underarms and your forehead to the wall, eyes closing and asking yourself whether you made a mistake.
But… But maybe not.
In the next moment, Jungkook suddenly laughs a little, quiet but enticing enough to make your scalp tingle. He pushes the hair out of your face and your neck, slowly tracing your skin downward until he touches the spot over your vocal cords.
His fingers lift your head, breaking the contact to the wall. Gently rubbing your jaw with his thumb, he starts wrapping a huge hand around your neck… Silently at first before he finally answers.
“Shit, you’re so much dirtier than the good girl I know.”
No matter how simple the sentence, something in it awakens ambiguity in you. The realization that you’ve successfully surprised him. And at the same time, the urge to remain his good girl.
You want to be all of it for him; want to be the only object of affection for him.
“Can tell you the s-same.” You gasp when he squeezes the sides of your neck, just below your jawline. “This isn’t–” Biting your lip, you pause, distracted by his palm. “Not what puppy eyed boys should be doing.”
He lifts your body wordlessly, only laughing at your words in delight. Still sunken inside you, he straightens your posture just a bit, careful to not apply any kind of pressure to your windpipe. He knows what he’s doing – sex couldn’t be safer with anyone else.
At least that’s what you know, judging the choking experiences you’ve gathered with other men or women so far.
He leans into you, kissing your temple as he hammers into you again. The squeezes around your neck differ: His motions follow a varying pattern; your veins pulsate.
You imagine his clenched jaw or his furrowed eyebrows. The furious look on his face that doesn’t really suggest anger but blissful pleasure. You imagine his teeth trapping his lower lip, dimples on his cheeks, wet dark hair restricting his vision.
All that combined with all the godless things he says.
“I can’t believe we haven’t done this before… But…”
A sharp thrust pushes you forward, and one of your hands reaches behind you to grip his hip. Good God, he’s so fucking large. Human anatomy and logic aside, he must be battering your guts along with your pussy.
“But I knew I’d fuck you one day.”
Oh.
He has no remorse. He’s either too trapped in you to notice what he’s doing to you or he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Either way, your faltering soul can barely still handle him.
“You fucking devil,” you only respond.
And the devil has the audacity to leave your neck to slap your tits. How dare.
You yelp and your sound continues when he pinches your nipples, soft at first before his nips become harder. Defenseless in his grip, your knees almost buckle, especially when he talks to you again.
“My God, you’re letting me do fucking anything I want.”
“It’s… It’s the dick,” you tell him, already embarrassed. “Too good.”
“Ah? Thanks.” Letting his hands drop from your sensitive tits, he finds your clit again – you think you might cry. “Little reward for being so good for me?”
You want him to elaborate, but you soon learn what that reward consists of anyway.
He caresses your clit slowly and gently, accompanied by occasional light slaps. No rest for the wicked seems to be his motto today, not that you can complain.
Because a minute later, his fingers combined with the reckless, now fast paced plunges throw your world into chaos once more. You scream out his name, barely able to breathe. “Kook, I’m… I–”
“I know. Let go for me, Pumpkin. You’re all good, okay?”
His promises and soft reassurances make you fall harder into the fondness you already feel for him. If there was ever a point of return, he’s annihilated it once and for all now.
Who are you to doubt him? So you let another mind blowing orgasm wash over you. It rolls in hard, showing in your broken moans and curling fingers. He holds you up on your melting legs, an arm around your tummy.
“Hold on for me,” he snarls against your cheek, and you try. You really try your best, but your body’s giving up, trembling at the peak’s intensity that’s shaking up your insides. “Gonna cum, too…”
One more. You can afford one more indecent idea.
“Cum on my ass, Kook.”
“Fucking hell, baby.”
That’s all. That’s all he needs.
No hesitation in sight, he steps back and out of you, angling your body again by pulling your ass back as much as possible. The condom falls somewhere next to you – you see it from the corner of your eyes before you hear the way Jeon Jungkook climaxes.
Which is: With extra guttural groans, a quivering breath, fingers digging deep into the flesh of your butt and–what you realize when you look back at him–with super uncontrolled pumps of his cock.
“Fuuuuck,” he moans when his seed shoots hot onto your bottom.
It takes a few seconds for him to empty himself completely, and he keeps swearing, keeps saying something you barely understand.
But what you do understand, even though you’re absentmindedly focusing on his fingers spreading the cum on your back, is, “Gonna punish you for being so fucking hot one day.”
“That a promise?” You ask, still breathless.
He laughs. “Brat.”
The whole affair ends almost the way it started: Carefully and slowly, bickering thrown in here and there. But aside from the obvious fact you’re showering together, still so, so naked, there are more differences you notice when he lets the water run again to clean you up properly.
Like, his look. A smile you haven’t seen before, you think.
Very soft touches along your cheeks, fingers combing through your hair like you’re something fragile.
Questions such as, “Are you okay? Was that okay? Do you feel good, Pumpkin?”
Also… The hecking forehead kiss when you smile and nod.
The mood has shifted, albeit to something pleasant, once everything’s said and done. He puffs out a breath, discarding the neglected condom. Before he wraps you in a towel, his thumb brushes over your tattoo once more – his eyes look fascinated and affectionate, but he doesn’t comment on it again.
He doesn’t guide you back to your room but to his, drying you up thoroughly and affectionately.
He lets you leave for just a moment, telling you that you need to come back once you’ve found stuff to sleep in. His behavior is odd, but instead of questioning it, you indulge in his tender care.
But in the end, he only lets you wear your fresh pair of underwear and your shorts, snatching your shirt to throw it onto his desk. He rummages through his closet silently and only speaks once he’s handed you one of his cotton shirts.
“Take this?”
His tone is different from how he sounded the rest of the night. Not demanding, but kind of questioning. His teeth nibble at his lip and then he says, “I think you’d look good in it… Just if you’re up to it.”
He doesn’t stutter or hesitate. Like he dreamed of this for ages.
“Okay,” you mutter.
Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, he waits until you’re done, incredibly ecstatic when you smoothen the fabric over your body. He praises you, “Knew it. Beautiful.”
Then, his mouth falls shut. The joy melts into something softer. His eyes drink you in from head to toe, and he lifts both arms to tangle his fingers with yours.
You oblige, letting him pull you closer softly. Tilting your head, you speak up. “What’s up?”
But he doesn’t elaborate. “Nothing,” he only tells you with a smile.
“Okay.”
“But–”
You knew it. There’s something he’s thinking of profusely and he doesn’t want to keep it hidden. Thank God.
“Yeah?” You spur him on.
“Um… Stay here tonight.”
…Oh. Oh–
After all the things that went down tonight, his offer still strikes you like lightning. There’s a dull thump behind your chest and a growing ache in your stomach. You don’t know what it is and don’t understand why your body reacts that way.
You should be swarmed with butterflies. But instead, a ball of something strange forms inside you.
Maybe because he asks like your room isn't right next to his. Or as though you’d be gone and out of reach for miles if you stepped over the threshold of his bedroom now.
But… You’d be insane to resist.
So you let him drape the blanket over the both of you, crawling next to him.
“Lemme–” He says. You don’t get the opportunity to lay against his heartbeat, because he does it first. An arm holds your body close, his cheek pressed against your chest. “Like that. Feels good.”
He tangles his legs with yours, sighing in extreme satisfaction. You’re sure he’s dozing off when you interrupt by joking, “We didn’t save that much water after all.”
His voice is just a mumble when he speaks. “You did turn it off, though…” You chuckle quietly, and he pulls you closer to him. “I’ll use the college shower for a few days, okay?”
The things he’s ready to do for you…
In hindsight, you don’t think it’s the physical attraction you’ve been feeling for weeks that led to tonight’s fiasco. It’s not hormones or his jawline. Thinking, your emotions might date back to a time you can barely remember.
Because those subtle sacrifices he makes, the caring statements, the love he carries for you that shows in tiny, tiny things. Platonic or not, a bond like yours was bound to make you fall as hard as you did.
You think you remember what occurred that set you on fire so much hotter recently. Just right now… It might not be the time to speak about it yet, so you stuff the secret memory back into your mind.
Zeroing in on the mention of college, you stretch sideways, telling him to hold on a moment.
“Hm?” He mumbles.
“Setting an alarm.” The phone screen lights up your face and you squint one eye shut. “We’re still college students, Jungkook.”
“Mmmh,” he groans in displeasure. “Do we need to go?”
“I mean, do you wanna graduate?”
“I don’t know. I could strip for money.”
You laugh, holding him closer to you than before. Fondness seeps into him, and you notice when he digs his ear harder into your chest.
“Saw you naked, so speaking out of experience,” you support, “I think people would like that.”
He hums again. You feel his lips graze the shirt he gave you. “Would you be my manager?”
“If I get free shows.”
Nodding, he assures, “Of course. You can count on me, mon capitaine.”
“Oohhh,” you praise, tapping his bare bicep. “You can’t just quote The Beauty and the Beast and expect me to stay solid.”
He breathes out a throaty laugh, sounding right from his chest. “Stay solid?”
“Yeah. Look.” You palm his soft cheek, ignoring the way he leans into your touch. Ignoring what it does to you. And he’s smiling, too. “Do you feel me melting?”
“You’re so damn funny, you know?” He tells you.
Your face warms at his compliment, and you think you could fall asleep in satisfaction after all. That is. If there wasn’t what he says next of course. Out of fucking nowhere.
“Hey…” He begins and hesitates. His voice is quiet and drowsy, ready to drift off. “All that happened won’t change anything, right? Between us? Because I’m… I’m sorry if it makes things weird.”
Your heart skips a beat… He might have heard it.
That’s what he wants? To not change shit?
To remain platonic, friendly, close but not close enough. It won’t change anything? Because you thought it would.
But what are you supposed to say? Here, with him in your arms. You can’t start an argument or disrupt the evening you gifted each other. The preciousness of it can’t fade…
“No,” is what you say for that reason. “Of course not.”
“Good. Good, that’s important.” You don’t think he’s aware of what he’s saying. He sounds so tired, worn out after all the things he did today. The way he bids tonight goodbye is proof of that. “Night, Pumpkin.”
“Good night, Kook.”
Why did things happen the way they did? How did you let your guard fall? When did he decide it’d be okay to take a step further in his bed, in the bathroom, in the shower, only to go back to ground zero?
All those questions could plague your mind as you begin slumbering away. But they don’t.
Not yet.
pt1 || pt2 || pt3
author’s note: I am! sorry for the ending🥴 if you made it to the end of my very first real fic, thank you sowww much! did you enjoy it? let me know what you think--send an ask or reblog if you’d like, i’m really excited to know what you have to say bc feedback and support means everything💕
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taegularities · 7 months
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not my fault | jjk (m)
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Summary: After sparking a sinful conversation on a dating app, you vow to yourself that you won’t give in to more the notorious college fuckboy Jeon Jungkook might have to offer. That is, until he rings your doorbell just one night later – and it’s truly not your fault that he’s so damn hard to resist.
➵ pairing: Jungkook x female reader ➵ rating: 18+ ➵ genre: classmates to lovers, college!au; fluff, smut ➵ warnings: sexual tension, flirting/teasing/provoking, banter, a dating app :’), she has a crush on him but won’t admit it, grumpy roommate joon, crack dialogue, fuckboy!jk who wears glasses in class, idk that much about pharmacy i apologise; explicit sexual content: sexting, he makes her horny in public, petnames !!, fingering, edging, oral (f. & m. rec.), dom and big cawk jk wbk, he’s SO cocky, spanks (ass & clit ones), some choking, praising, messy but protected sex, she swallows his load <3, jk rlly loves her ass <3 ➵ word count: 12.6k ➵ a/n: been itching to write a lighthearted college au for so long and here we gooo !! @missgeniality​​​​​​​ thank you for enduring me and making this better and for not k*lling me yet, love thou, kitty <33 enjoy y’all – feedback is always appreciated !! <3
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MASTERLIST | WIPS
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“What’s with the constant yelling on this goddamn campus?”
Namjoon is not a friend of noise and crowds – as a self-declared claustrophobic, the cheers around him sound eerie and mind-numbing, and for once, you can’t blame him. Because every usually silent corner of your university is exploding, and you’re sure a few windows are already cracking at the shrill blow of the constant screams.
“What’s with you?” you ask back, nudging his elbow playfully as you clutch the strap of your bag tighter.
You want to make him laugh, but your friend is as gloomy as ever, not quite ready – or awake – to give into your jokes just yet. You figure he might be once he gets ready for bed.
“Those cheerleaders,” he points to the group of girls, and you think his voice, calm and low on other days, is close to breaking. It’s hilarious – it reminds you of his adolescent days. “They sound like this creepy sorority video on YouTube. Make it stop.”
You shudder, because you know exactly what he’s talking about. If he hadn’t shown it to you on a dark, quiet Halloween night right after watching Sinister and It, it might not be engraved in your mind like some daunting, unsolved supernatural mystery.
Pouting, you stare to the ground, tucking back your hair. “We should’ve watched Buzzfeed Unsolved instead.”
The campus has been extra noisy these days – because not only is the semester coming to its end, but your nerves have been buzzing due to the approaching exam season, too. On top of that, the college is finally bidding farewell to its local sweethearts as if a group of renowned scientists is letting go of its strongest pioneer.
You guess Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok were somewhat trailblazing after all – athletic, attractive, top of their classes and the talk of the school for literal years.
But with them leaving, the attention is shifting; and with the already continuous excitement, there’s one other hot topic left – a thriving fuckboy who shares quite a few classes with you and will still be here next semester. Very likely to corrupt innocent girls’ minds; to charm someone new at the very next frat party he might crash.
And he’ll do it next semester, too. And the one after.
A piece of advice – pharmacy really isn’t the major for you if you opt to finish in the required or recommended time. Seems like Jeon Jungkook’s existence will still roam the campus like a plague, make you roll your eyes back into your head for a while longer.
You don’t care about such things, you always say. You’d much rather focus on your education.
Right when your thoughts begin drifting off, a girl walks past Namjoon and screams into the warm summer air, and her voice still rings in your ears when you hear him complain, “Jeez, what the actual fuck.”
“A few more steps and we’re off campus grounds.”
“A few more steps and we’ll enter an apartment with my books scattered around.”
You shrug and sigh, admonishing him, “Hey, I told you to start with your shit on time.”
Namjoon stares at you as if he’s attempting to annihilate you with his gaze, shooting invisible lasers at you before he mocks, “If I had a hot girl I’m crushing on cheering for me in class, I’d be just as motivated as you are.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you state, your demeanour calm and clueless, your shoulders shrugging so often they might get stuck in place.
“I’m talking about the grand nerd slash fuckboy extraordinaire who–”
“He’s really not that great.”
“He’s fucking top of his year… will get awards and honours. It’s the college equivalent of a valedictorian.”
Your steps slow down, and you slide your hands into the pockets of your jumpsuit, squinting at the polished car that reflects the sun as you breathe, “Speaking of the devil.”
In a far corner, you watch Jungkook stand near the road with the door of his vehicle open, presumably letting out the hot suffocating air that has collected inside. He’s talking to some girl who’s pushing herself uncomfortably close to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Because in the next moment, he’s smirking back, tilting his head before she gets into the passenger’s seat.
“What you staring at?” Namjoon questions before he follows your gaze, coming to a halt when you do.
“Missing dick.”
He laughs and shakes his head, kicking the grass underneath his feet before he utters, “Here we go again.”
“What?” Jungkook’s car drives into the sunset, very 90s movie style, the delicate, grinning heroine next to him laughing, and you turn to Namjoon to stare at him. “Do you know how long I’ve been under this dry spell? I–” you wave your hand in dramatic motions, cocking an eyebrow, “I feel my virginity growing back.”
“You know what I’m gonna suggest.”
“Kim Namjoon.”
“Listen,” he exclaims, a full-lipped mouth falling open, “dating apps exist for a reason. If you won’t do it, I will.”
“I…” Perplexed, you wait, closing your eyes for an exhausted moment before you sigh and nod. “Sure.”
But in all honesty – perhaps you’d rather embrace your regrowing virginity instead of giving in to the last resort that are dating apps.
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The nightly wildlife chirps even in this part of the city – you for one are happy to be connected to nature somehow, even if it means to open your window to mosquitos every other night.
You think the clock might strike eleven soon, but you don’t give it much of a thought as you stroll along the streets, your mind still fogged from grinding for your exams. The summer breeze feels nice – clears your head a bit.
Thumbs hooked in the pockets of your shorts, you take a deep breath, peeking at the stars for a brief moment before you hear the sound of music crawl closer. You think you recognise the song as an early Lindsey Stirling track. You’re sure the neighbourhood appreciates being woken up by the rhythmic melody of dubstep and violins.
A car pulls up next to you and comes to a stop, and the driver turns the music down before leaning in and revealing himself as the popular wonderkid par excellence.
“What are you doing out here so late and alone, love?”
The nickname makes your insides palpitate, and you think his voice elicits goosebumps where it shouldn’t. You attempt your best to keep your cool, brushing your tresses out of your face before you question back, “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, live nearby?”
“And you’re alone, too?” you add, your eyes darting to the backseat and back to him. “Didn’t you pick someone up just this afternoon?”
He flashes a poised smirk at you, his eyes crinkled and full of mischief as he chants, “Oh, you noticed that?”
You shrug your shoulders, balancing your weight from one leg to the other when he asks, “Done with homework and studying?”
“Yes, boss,” you answer, stepping closer to the edge of the pavement, “internalised every bit of information related to quality control and whatnot.”
“Want me to give you a lift?”
“I literally live in that block over there, Jungkook,” you clarify, pointing to the complex three streets away, and the movement of his head follows your finger.
But he doesn’t cave in just yet, calloused fingertips tapping at the steering wheel as he suggests, “Let me drive you around a bit then.”
“What if you kidnap me?”
“Well, first of all, you’ve known me for years, and second, you’re not a kid anymore. It’d just be napping, and you’d be crazy not to want that.”
You wish you didn’t laugh at his lame joke. Now, you suddenly don’t understand how his other chicks fall for his humour this fast, because he’s obviously out of juice, and won’t be able to swoon you.
…Into falling for him.
But luring you into his car? Sure.
“Fine,” you say, puffing out a breath before you get in.
He glances at the street, checking for intruding traffic before he drives off and you ask, “What are you doing so late?”
“Just went for a drive. It’s a pleasant night.”
You press onto the button next to you to let the window shift down further, basking in the gust of the gentle night. You can taste the summer from where you sit, delicate and flowery, and you let a soft smile play around your lips before you inquire, “Why don’t you go for a walk instead? To save Mother Earth and prevent global warming and stuff.”
“I do usually go for walks,” Jungkook defends, swaying slightly to the song that you recognise yet again. “Just missed her.”
“Her?”
“Mirage. My car.”
Of course he’d name his car.
You sigh. Maybe you’re overgeneralising; putting him in a drawer filled with files of every playful fuckboy and frat boy in existence. But Jungkook does seem nice – he’s always been nice. And he’s not a frat boy either.
You sit up in your seat, smiling at him before you point at the radio and tell him, “I didn’t know you were a Swiftie.”
“Oh, I am!” he notes, singing along a few words of 22 before he adds, “I actually have the tape version of Red! It’s somewhere… in the cracks of the backseats, though, lemme…”
“Oh, you really don’t need to–”
But before you can argue some more, he’s pulled into a parking lot swiftly and stepped out of his car. He re-emerges in the backseat of Mirage, sifts through the slits with a grimace that suggests he’s touched something he didn’t want to, and then cheers, “Found it!”
With a sigh, you grab the vintage cassette and follow his instructions as to what to press or not, and when one of Taylor’s songs chimes, you leave the car, stretching your muscles and then opening the door to the backseat.
You make yourself comfortable next to him, immediately bobbing your head in unison with his and the song’s rhythm before you realise how close you two are. In hindsight, you don’t understand why you came to sit here at all – he would’ve come back to the driver’s seat anyway.
The whole encounter doesn’t make much sense, but you guess it’s too late to overthink now – so you begin a conversation about your favourite songs on the album instead, and you act as if you don’t realise that he’s side-eyeing you. Squinting in amusement.
And before you can blink twice, he’s shifted closer with a hand on your thigh, giggling. You let him obliviously, licking your lips, and when both of you go quiet and let silence between you settle, you swallow thickly – there’s a clump in your throat and it’s not dissolving.
Out of nowhere, he looks down at your grey clothing, the series of happenings lacking logic once more as he comments, “Nice shorts.”
You steady your breathing with anticipation jabbing your overworking mind, telling yourself that it’s okay, that there’s no need to be nervous. And so, you wet your lips, telling him, “Glad you like them.”
“I do like quite a few things about you…”
“Oh? What’s that?”
Jungkook hums in thought, and for a moment, you’re certain he just said it to charm you. After all, he doesn’t know you all that well. He knows you’re quiet in uni. Knows you share classes with him. He knows you stuff your mouth with desserts any chance you get, because he caught you a few times and possib–
“The colour of your hair,” he finally lists, and you listen attentively, “your skin. I do like your pretty little mind, too. Got a lot in there, gotta admit.”
“The genius himself is praising a peasant like me?”
He chuckles, obviously taken aback by your choice of words. But then he catches himself, his tongue darting out to the corner of his lips before he confesses, “The genius himself has never seen a peasant this sexy, though.”
Did he really…
And is his–
Yes – his hand is definitely shifting up, your skin shivering; and he’s moving closer, his lips parted – and suddenly, the colour of your shorts has changed and your hair is in a ponytail when you were sure you were wearing it down before, and…
Okay.
Great.
You awake with a smack of your lips, blinking as you adjust to the darkness. Damn vivid dreaming. Damn Jungkook humming Taylor Swift songs in classes often enough for you to remember his taste in music.
You’re sure he would’ve taken you right there, but not before pushing you to oversensitivity and tears, nibbling at your shoulders while you squirmed in his grip.
No. That must be your interpreting imagination talking.
Fuck.
It was a dream? A long ass, detailed, elaborated one, too? His lame humour was your own?
How pathetic. When you said you needed to get laid, you really did mean it.
But instead of letting his undoubtedly monstrous, skilled cock fuck you to insanity, even if just in a dream, you find yourself between the dull walls of your room, wrapped in a cold blanket of pitch darkness.
Your blinds are shut and no beam of the streetlamps comes seeping in as you clutch your phone tight with only its light illuminating your face… and the ache between your legs is palpable. Like dream-Jungkook metaphorically blue-balled you and left you to starve.
What if you called Jimin again? It was nice with him, wasn’t it? But no – he has a girlfriend now. And the college jock Baekhyun? Would he be up to go on another date after you ditched him last time? Probably not.
Okay, and what if…
Is there really no other option left?
You reckon not.
You open your phone again and slide to the app you dreaded, one that Namjoon has been suggesting for months on end now. You won’t let the truth sidle to him – the one about you having downloaded the app ages ago, but dipping right after configuring your profile and finding no one remarkable or interesting on there.
You think their bios are crucial in what your choice settles on, but the lack of personality and terrifyingly sassy profile pictures left you shuddering and grimacing. You decided this wasn’t for you.
Now, no offence to anyone indulging in the pleasures of dating apps, but especially after tinder swindlers and alarming news, you weren’t always all that fond of the opportunities such a phenomenon brings.
But now, you do cave in, revisiting your account in a haste as you half sit up, pulling up the pillow and leaning against the creaking headboard.
For a while, you keep swiping – the most obscure descriptions catch your eye, much as expected. Just for a second, you feel your pussy clench in ache enough to swipe right to absolute idiots.
S.
Let's match and maybe I'll send you a nude on Snapchat?
Jay
got money n time so why don't we share some of it?
"Oh my fucking god," you exclaim in exasperation.
You're speechless. Other than those attempting to catch fish with flirts they most likely found on the internet, there are people who have stated nothing but their height on their profiles. Or a phrase in a different language, or, wow, "Hey there. I am using WhatsApp" on a dating app?
And then… the biggest miracle in the history of miracles happens. Crop circles and sightings of UFOs are nothing compared to it.
Because it's him. 
A mirror selfie stares back at you, his hand half buried in his pocket – but you can still see the veins popping. His hair is a mess, but he’s still so undeniably attractive; and to your misery, even his bio is harmless and basic, no nauseating cockiness.
He’s not only chasing and haunting your dreams, but appearing on this app, too. You don't consider the fact that it gives you optimal matches in your near proximity – no, for you, this is a sign of doom, of certain and ulterior conspiracy.
You take a deep breath and curl your fingers into a tight fist, and with closed eyes and a clenched jaw, you do something utterly reckless and stupid. You might regret it later… or maybe it won't affect your life at all.
But when you swipe right, you bite your tongue, and when you release your breath and open your eyes again, you're ready to watch a new name and face pop up when suddenly…
It's a match!
"NO FUCKING WAY."
You clap your hand over your mouth, the sheer volume of your voice so unexpected that you almost feel your bed rattle. A myriad of jumbled thoughts jostle for attention, and your eyes flick from one spot of your phone to the other.
Letting the device fall, you cross your legs, cracking your fingers as you try to make sense of what the hell just happened. But once the truth finally creeps in, you pull your phone closer again, holding it with your fingertips as though you just fished it out of your toilet.
You open the chat of the dating app and stare at it for a full minute, your thumbs drawing circles in the air as you bite into your lip. You’re not certain what to do with the situation – not sure what you’re doing at all; not quite able to foresee how he’ll react.
But then you collect air in your cheeks and let it out in a puff, opting for courage before typing a simple, tiny “hi?”. And then, you lock the device immediately as if Jungkook could catch you staring if you touched it any longer.
You wait ten minutes. Twenty. And when nothing comes after thirty two petrifying minutes, you place your phone on your bedside table, tugging the thinnest blanket you own over your head as if the summer isn’t in full bloom outside.
And at some point tonight, you doze off eventually.
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It’s not until the alarm clock blares and shakes you awake that memories of last night come crashing back. You think you might’ve had two damned vivid dreams, surely hoping that you didn’t truly experience the quiet, brief horror movie with you as its main cast.
But when you unlock your phone, your hope evaporates and consorts with your soul somewhere in hell, and your body falls limp against the headboard when you see… a response.
You feel the weight of his sarcasm crushing you already when you click on the chat. With a singular glance, you understand that Jungkook likes to shorten his words. Might use emojis sparsely? Definitely has the first letter of his sentences capitalised, though.
Jungkook: Hi…? R u not sure about ur greeting or
You’re not sure about anything – if you only knew, prodigy Jeon.
You: good morning.
His response comes almost immediately; as if he was waiting for you, eyes fixated on the chat, bored enough to converse with you rather than doing… whatever a Jeon Jungkook usually does.
Jungkook: Morning. U were awake late, huh?
You: couldn’t sleep. had a nightmare.
And it consisted of nothing less but his presence. His moles and soft, fluffy hair are still engraved in your mind that you somehow managed to memorise in the years you’ve known him. You wonder if he ever noticed you staring at the dark dot under his lip. Or his nose. Or at the veins of his arms… the thighs, oh god, the thighs–
The nightmare drenched your panties and shook your body until your guts were where your heart belongs.
Jungkook: Ohhhh wanna talk about it?
You gulp.
You: I’d rather not
The situation is almost comical. If you weren’t shaking in your non-existent boots, you might have laughed. But instead, you type away, cannot believe that you’re truly here, about to flirt with Jungkook like it’s a casual Thursday morning. But how could you not… he’s clearly waiting for you to bite, because…
Jungkook: Sure. So… weekend. What are u doing 2day?
He really does abbreviate the simplest words.
You: nothing. studying. you?
Jungkook: Not much either. Talking to u hopefully?
Sly, Jeon… very sly.
You: don’t you have stuff to do?
Jungkook: Yeah but… matching with a pretty girl is more fun
Is that a conversation he has every other day? Is this his tactic, his method to sing people to his form like a siren just to swallow them whole afterwards? Most importantly – if all of this is a possibility, why does your face still warm like an oven at his words?
Confidence – it’s easier through text. So you give it a shot; even if it boosts his ego – it does the same to you.
You: Jeon Jungkook thinks I’m pretty?
Jungkook: Jeon Jungkook thinks a lot of things about you
Did he not say something similar in your dream? There must be courses on witchcraft you could attend if you wanted to…
Fuck.
You hate him – but not really.
You: what does he think?
Jungkook: Well… he thinks you should text him in your DMS, bcos u have his number
Jungkook: Nd he thinks you should go out with him nd grab some lunch this noon
Just when the opportunity slithers close enough for you to graze it, something in you deflates. Like a red siren blaring warningly, reminding you that, despite your undeniable attraction to him, you don’t necessarily know if you want to involve yourself with him.
You matched with him. You texted him. You’re flirting – but what’s this uneasy feeling still? Perhaps you just realised that if you give in now, you’ll have to deal with his stolen glances and potential rumours until you graduate.
But somewhere inside, you do wish to be more to him than just a possible hook-up.
Hm.
You: I… don’t think so
Jungkook: Woah. My heart just broke like never before
You contemplate what to answer, digging deep into your thoughts to find a part that’s not overthinking and/or flooded with a hundred different personas of you. They all want something else – can’t you dip your toes in calm, still water instead of this hurricane twirling in your brain?
When you don’t answer, Jungkook double texts; two simple words but somehow still dripping in a timid tone.
Jungkook: Why not?
You: you… I don’t think you matched with me to get LUNCH
Jungkook: Ah. Why did you swipe right on me then?
Busted.
Even if his intentions were beyond fucking, genuinely attempting to take you out on a harmless, joyful date, you don’t think yours were – initially at least. And the way you know him – or as much as you do know him – you’re sure he’d jump onto this train, if you wanted to.
But something’s still holding you back… something that didn’t last night. So you answer–
You: guess I was curious to see what might happen
You: but you’re known for sleeping around. and I don’t wanna be a dick-wetter when you’ve so many people to do so… even tho you do seem nice
Jungkook: Cute. Also weird. Could’ve sworn you like me
Your heart thumps a little faster against your ribcage, and despite every word you’ve already exchanged, his newest confession turns you upside down. You’re not sure what your emotions consist of – and you wonder whether it’d be worse to have him think you like him or to actually like him.
Raising your eyebrows at the device, you admire his confidence, and despite the fright his message brought, it makes you smile a bit. It’s a rare trait – refreshing to see.
You: how would you know?
Jungkook: U swiped right, woman. Can u rlly say that u’ve never thought about me naked before?
You chuckle, an airy, goofy laugh filling the room as you pull your legs closer and tilt your head. He’s brave – you want to be, too.
You: and if I did?
Nothing comes back.
You wait for a moment. Perhaps he’s gotten up to fetch himself a drink or take a shower… it might be anything.
But then, this anything turns out to be something incredibly more intense – because suddenly, your phone is vibrating, and you almost screech, blinking at it as you ponder what to do.
You let it ring for a while, nervous to pick up – and when you think the last rings are chiming, you clear your throat and exhale, emptying your head of the thick mist before you press the green button.
You don’t get to say anything at all, because he’s already chuckling, his voice sweet and mellow before he questions, “You sure you don’t wanna grab… lunch?”
The pause sends your mind into another overthinking episode, but you brush your worries aside, suggesting instead, “Why don’t we talk about pharmacy instead? Happy drugs and blissful painkillers.”
“Coward.”
Your mouth falls open half in amusement, half in surprise, the shit eating grin growing wider when you argue defiantly, “I’m not a coward!”
“Prove it then.”
Oh… his voice fell lower; you imagine a hooded gaze, a smirk scurrying over his lips – it’s an image too dangerous for your brain. If he doesn’t stop putting it there, you might drive over, and then no one will be responsible for your misdeeds but you.
The higher deities are toying with your patience.
“I don’t need to,” you tell him, shrugging one shoulder, though he can’t see anyway. “Nice trick, though.”
“Okay, but hear me out,” he immediately says, the sounds of him shifting crackling through the speaker. Jungkook is losing his chill and you’re loving it, “What if I swiped right, because you’ve been catching my eye since we first met?”
You want to call bullshit – his voice sounds genuine and devoid of mockery and games, but you still squint your eyes, asking, “Really?”
“Yeah, you’re just. Too intimidating to ask out.”
“I’m… intimidating?”
You?
You’re scared of bugs. You dislike heights. You once screamed when Namjoon walked out of his room casually, his cheek covered in strawberry jam, because he’s too clumsy to eat properly, cleanly. He needed multiple tries and exclamations of defence to convince you that it wasn’t blood.
You can’t possibly seem intimidating to him.
“This is absolutely weird,” you admit, and when your eyes dry, you realise that you must not have blinked in minutes. The dust floating around you must be getting worried.
“I like weird.”
“You… what do you want, Jeon?”
“I…” Jungkook begins, but then silences, humming and clicking his tongue. And then, he speaks up again, suddenly shy and uncertain as he says, “If I told you what I want, you might cut the call.”
“Now I wanna know more, though.”
He sighs, and you think you can hear an odd sound accompanying his occurring hums, as if he’s tapping against a wooden object. His voice is gravelly and quieter when he speaks again, and you press your phone further against your ear.
“Alright. Sure. Nothing to lose, I guess.”
He lets you wait again. He knows how to build tension – knows how to turn you into an impatient puddle of molten composure.
“I can be sweet or,” he says, and you lean forward, “or talk you to filth. What do you want?”
To filth?
You shiver.
Albeit intrigued, you wonder – if he tried to be sweet, would he be telling you the truth? Or just try to swoon you? You don’t want to be a pawn in his game – don’t want this crush or whatever to advance. He’s a charismatic, compulsive charmer, right? What if he wraps you around his tattooed finger just for you to wonder if he meant any of it?
So you say politely, “Second option, please.”
He breathes out. He sounds a little disappointed.
“Alright. Remember when you wore that floral dress last summer and our professor told you to adhere to the dress code we don’t even have?”
“Yup. How could I forget?”
“Well. I was this close,” you imagine him bringing his forefinger and thumb close, turning his big doe eyes into slits, “to telling her off. Her Victorian morals don’t have a place in this century. Wanted to tell her that she can’t let out her lack of confidence on you. Because,” he pauses; then says, “you can do whatever the heck you wanna do.”
Wow…
This isn’t filth.
Rather, elaborated, detailed sweetness – you didn’t expect this level of observation and depth, didn’t know a simple dress and brief conversation last summer affected him enough to remember his thoughts for this long. You’re glad he can’t see, but you’re pouting, and you’re sure your eyes are glittering, the stars in your pupils flickering.
“I…”
And as sweet as he can be, his sexiness never falters. Because.
“And…”
“And.”
“You looked so fucking hot.”
Oh.
He says it hushed – almost whispers it, and you feel your sanity dematerialise and your insides burn. The little spark evolves and turns your guts and lungs to ember, and your cheeks flame up like you’ve been stuck head-first into a blazing sauna.
“...Go on,” you plead, and you nearly hear the smile in his words when he obliges.
“Been wanting to… to touch you since that day. Slide my hands across your body and pull you closer by…” He laughs, smacking his lips, hesitating before he mumbles as if he’s saying something blasphemous. “By your tits.”
Hell. What the hell.
“And goddamn, your ass, I… want it close enough to me that our bodies meld, and okay, yeah, that– that sounded weird, but–” You hear him gulp, and you swallow at the same time. “I imagined ripping that dress off of you like, not even kidding, a few dozen times? And… are you still there?”
“Yeah.”
“Too much?”
“Nah. It’s fine.”
“Is all that weird?”
“Maybe a little,” you breathe, but you must admit that you have been in the same position with him before. Imagined how it’d be if you were one of the girls he fucks. “But… guess we’re both weird.”
“Shit, you can’t say that…” Silence descends for a moment when he understands the meaning behind your words, and he clears his throat before he continues, “And right now… shit, just the thought of you sitting on your bed or couch, possibly in shorts or a nightgown drives me fucki–”
You feel your heart lurch into your throat and then fall, scrambling your insides before you confess, “I’m… in my panties. Just a shirt… and panties.”
“Oh fuck.” He waits. “Okay. Can I–”
But you never get to hear what he wants to ask, because from behind your closed door, Namjoon knocks suddenly and rapidly, startling you on the spot. You catch your phone mid-fall, breathing heavily, shaking your head when your roommate yells, “It’s your turn to make breakfast, byotch!”
You shake your head, hurrying to whisper your goodbyes to Jungkook who you briefly catch complaining, “Seriously?” – but you tell him you’re sorry, that you’ll see him tomorrow morning, because you’re class-free today.
Namjoon, however, does need to rush to uni, and you promised to make him something today before he left for his linguistics course at noon.
You spend the day munching on leftover breakfast, studying as much as your mushy thinking organ allows. But your thoughts drift back to the monstrum repeatedly that doesn’t call you back or text you again for the remainder of the day and night.
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When you enter the lab the next day, Jungkook is already there, staring at your form entering through his glasses as he manspreads on his seat. You try not to look down, but avert your gaze instead, sitting down in a far corner of the room despite the fact that you’ve sat next to him more often than you can count.
From your peripheral sight, you catch that he’s still staring at you, but you try to focus on your unkempt and idle professor as you slip your arms into your lab coat. Seems like your teacher’s in a bad mood, because he wipes his tired eyes, waving you off nonchalantly before he mutters, “Produce an ointment. Any kind you want. You can work alone or as a duo.”
You learned to make ointments years ago. But okay – at least an easy task that doesn’t require the brainpower you don’t have today.
You decide to work alone – but as it seems, Jungkook has different plans.
From afar, you overhear him decline a girl or two and a boy who offer to get into a group with him; but he utters some convincing excuses and walks over to you instead. You feel him step closer, and your chest tightens.
Your body isn’t a blooming forest – the butterflies need to get the hell out of there.
“How are you?” he asks once you acknowledge him with a nod, putting on his lab coat and gloves before he grabs some ingredients from your hand, dividing the work.
“Good. How are you?”
You looked so fucking hot.
His words repeat in your mind like a broken record – by now, you’ve memorised the tone he whispered them in, the rise and fall of his voice, the casual confidence he put into it.
Shit. You should’ve worn that dress today.
“I’m okay,” he answers, dabbing at his forehead that shines in the slightest sheen of sweat that the summer causes, “was wondering what ointment you’re making.”
You mumble something so quietly that he doesn’t grasp it, and he leans in with furrowed eyebrows, asking again. Raising your voice, you control the volume of your sentence, telling him, “Burns. Against burns.”
His lips form an O before he licks them, tsk-ing and smirking as he states dramatically, “Apply it to my heart then.”
Huh.
“What?”
“Was wondering where you went yesterday.”
Oh. You didn’t think he’d care this much – makes you want to care even more.
“I…”
He interrupts you, waving calmly and reassuringly as he says, “I can totally let it go if you want me to, though. It’s cool, I promise!”
“No, I–” Okay. Stop stuttering. One more stutter and you’d slap yourself in front of him. “I made breakfast for my roommate.”
Jungkook nods as though he knew, his conversing tone jovial and cheerful as he asks, “Your roommate? Namjoon, was it?”
“Yes.”
Jungkook measures the powder used for the ointment, gazing at it carefully and focused. A crease carved between his eyebrows, he looks incredibly sexy, staring over the edge of his glasses, the tip of his tongue peeking out. The coat hugs his body perfectly, and his muscles flex each time he angles his arms.
It’s almost too much.
And then, he leans back, exhaling before he notes, “Damn. If you were my girlfriend, I’d make you breakfast every day.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” you defend immediately – why, you can’t quite say, “but you knew that.”
“No harm in making sure…”
When his skin brushes yours, you think he’s doing it on purpose. You draw a sharp breath, so sure that he’s decoded your tense and freezing stance – but if he did, he doesn’t say anything. Acts like he’s concentrating on the task on hand while his shoulder keeps bumping against yours lightly.
And soon, he’s looking at you, his hand on the white table, fingers drumming against the handle of the water tap, and starts, “Hey, do you…” He nibbles his lower lip, dimples appearing on his cheeks as deep as your embarrassing nervousness. But he’s being shy. He’s being shy? Again? “Are you doing anything today? After class?”
“Oh,” you voice, not quite expecting his question, though a part of you hoped he’d ask something like this, “why?”
“There’s a place I wanted to show you. A castle kinda thing, and there are super many cherry blossom trees? I thought you might like it there, ‘cause,” he stops for a fleeting second, his tongue dashing along his lower lip, “I remember you once told me it’s your favourite flower.”
You’re baffled beyond imagination – not even your former boyfriends ever remembered, always bringing you a bouquet on Valentine’s day and your birthday, because they ”didn’t really know which one you like most.”
Is Jungkook this observant or is he just the genius you already see him as?
“You still remember that?” you ask, your eyes wide, your lip jutting out.
“Of course. Yeah. They’re my favourite, too.”
I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
Neruda’s quote has never rung this true – whatever emotions the pink petals inspire in you, they border on cheesy, sappy romance. If Jungkook is anyhow on the same wavelength as you, you might liquefy.
God, you want to say yes. If only to find a pretty tree and make out with him under it. No, scratch that. Just to be in his presence and see what he’s like when he’s not chasing girls. Or complimenting your ass.
“I’d love to, but… I can’t,” you tell him, and his face falls a little, sweet and tender; not the kind of fall that indicates a decreasing ego, but the type that resembles genuine chagrin. “I have to attend this study group with Yeosoo, and… it’s the last session before one of the exams, so…”
“Ah, it’s cool. Don’t sweat it. I just thought I might try.”
“Sorry.”
“All good, cutie,” he says with a wink, returning to your task while your fingers fiddle with the rest of the ingredients, brushing the bottle of oil. “I’ll just keep admiring you from afar in the meantime.”
“You’re…”
Within a moment, his eyes blow wide, his features flinching, and he grabs your hand tight when you take one wrong step. He pulls you closer until your palm is gripping his firm bicep – that you’re sure he flexes when you touch it – and almost falling into him.
You realise too late that he’s saved you from dripping oils that you somehow managed to spill, but his breath against your scalp and his chest against yours create a ferocious and frantic chaos behind your ribs.
In the silence of the moment, you see your classmates watching you, but Jungkook snatches all your remaining attention, his nimble fingers sliding along your waist and settling there to straighten your posture.
With your breath stuck in your throat and blue fire burning behind your cheeks, you apologise bashfully, breathing out the muddled up ball of air. You sit back again, frantically starting to clean up the mess, and the teacher strolls to you lazily just in time. He comes to a halt at the other side of your table; and when he leans in to inspect your progress, you wince.
Your professor doesn’t notice, but you’re perishing inside – the hand on your thigh belonging to a certain someone who’s started explaining how your ointment is doing shakes the last crumbs of sleep away.
He’s the downfall of you. You’ll be writing your will tonight.
A muffled question registers in your brain, and you don’t decipher it as a worried, “Are you okay?” from your professor until Jungkook nudges your arm and tells you the man is speaking to you.
Jungkook draws an endless circle on your skin; then proceeds to touch your knee – and the blood in your face is downright smouldering. You side-eye him for a moment, acting oblivious; attempting your best to answer your teacher’s question appropriately.
But the impish touch of your classmate’s treacherous fingers, sneaking up your leg and to the fabric of your shorts leaves you stuttering over simple words. He’s evidently trying to get back to you for vanishing so abruptly yesterday – who knew Jungkook’s way of punishing someone was this blatant?
You don’t push his hand away, because you don’t want it gone – in fact, you want this lesson to end and pull him into a spare, empty storage room. Want him to fuck you raw until the bottled ingredients clatter to the ground.
But then, he retracts his hand when your professor nods and walks on, and when you breathe a vexed, “Asshole”, he pats your shoulder playfully, his idiotic, silly smirk returning as he says, “Pity that you’re busy this afternoon.”
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He put an extra cautious emphasis on afternoon, stressing the word like he was using it for the first time.
When the doorbell rings near 10 pm, you let your novel fall, crawling off the sofa that you pulled out to a bed and rushing to the wooden entrance. You didn’t expect Namjoon to return home this fast – something must have happened on his little trip.
You ready yourself to mock the life out of him, eager to meet his wasted eyes and listen to his drunk rambling about the night he just experienced. But when you unlock the door and rip it open with your lips curled upwards, you find leaning against the frame… someone entirely else.
Instinctively, your hand descends to the hem of your shirt, covering at least a mere inch of your bare thighs as you stare into Jungkook’s amused face. He cocks an eyebrow at you, and your heart leaps; you act as if you don’t notice that he’s checking you out from head to toe.
You know he lives nearby – but you’re still surprised that he remembered where you live, too.
“What are you doing here?” you question, lowering your voice, focusing intently on keeping your voice steady. For now, you might want to stay very still – you know you’ll stammer if you don’t.
“I wanted to come by and say hi.”
“Are you… are you drunk?”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, leaning in closer as he regards you with a firm gaze and asks, “Do I look drunk to you?”
He makes sure to speak close to your face, and when you take in the scent of his minty breath, devoid of any hint of inebriation, you let your jaw fall shut. You were close to the climax of your book – in fact, you had planned to finish it to start the movie adaptation of it this Friday night.
You were entirely prepared for it: your hair arranged in a messy, cosy bun, your favourite long shirt draped over your body – or at least your torso – with the taste of your favourite ice cream flavour still lingering on your tongue.
You didn’t expect an interruption in the form of… him. But the way he stands there, confident but quiet, smiling at you in a way that should be illegalised and written into every book of law…
What was your novel about again?
“May I come in?” Jungkook asks, peering past you, and you blink once – twice.
Manners have always been your strongest trait, but it seems that Jungkook has turned your brain upside down and replaced coherent thoughts with ones of a clapping monkey toy. You gulp, and then step aside, apologising under your breath.
“No need to be sorry,” he says as he looks around, hands in the pockets of his joggers – oh god, he’s wearing joggers – and his voice low.
There’s a kind of groan in his words, one that usually accompanies his conversational tone; he must not realise what effect it has on people. Or maybe he does. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.
“Why’re you really here?” you ask again, attempting to sound as polite as possible and not as though you’re scheming to throw him out again. Anytime soon.
“I was thinking of you.”
How is this so easy for him?
He’s leaning down to inspect a vase of yours, for crying out loud – how can he say such things so casually and expect from you to remain relaxed and collected with a steady heartbeat and a mind that doesn’t go into a frenzy and–
“Really?” you question, feigning calmness, hiding that the lower part of your body has entirely different plans.
You step further into the room and watch him scour his pockets as if they’re miles deep, and when he plummets onto your couch/make-shift bed, he’s holding a small plastic canister in his palm. He stretches his arm towards you and you take the object with questions etched between your eyebrows.
Turning the lid, you ask, “What’s that?”
“Open it.” And when you do and understand, recognising the smell and quality, up to par, he smiles, nodding as if to confirm your thoughts and says, “Ointment against burns. In case there’s ever a cooking accident or something!”
Flashing a smile back, you close the canister again, wrapping both your palms around it before you nod and say, “Thank you.”
“No worries.” Jungkook shoots a look at the discarded book, and then back to you, taking in the quietude of the apartment before he wonders, “Where’s Namjoon?”
“Joon’s out with Hobi and some other friends. They went bowling or something.”
“And you didn’t go with?”
You shrug, taking a seat on the other side of the couch, almost as if you’re dodging his emanating aura by putting a distance between you. God knows what you might do if Jeon Jungkook got too close. And after this morning’s events, you’re more nervous than ever before.
“Nah,” you respond, drawing patterns on your couch before flattening a hand over its material, “I’m bad at bowling.”
“That just means you haven’t been often enough.”
“No. Believe me, even Namjoon can confirm that I’m bad at it.”
“I’ll take you there sometime,” he promises, shifting until his body hits the back of the sofa, legs crossed over each other, “I refuse to believe you’re bad with balls.” Your lips part. You silence, looking at him in disbelief – and then, he laughs and adds, “That was a bad one.”
Both your laughter erupts in unison, and his eyes crinkle again when he chuckles, and his tattooed hands are adorned by veins, and his sounds are so soft and sickening and… this is becoming a problem.
As the last bits of your giggles subside, you scratch your jaw, mumbling, “When it comes to that, Namjoon won’t ever make fun of me.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
Your cheeks warm when you remember your early days as Namjoon’s roommate, and when a toe-curling memory returns in bits and pieces, a faded grey and dull, you grimace. Licking your lips, you look at Jungkook, attempting to sound casual when you admit, “Just. Well, freshman year, uh. Let’s just say Joon knows I’m… good with balls.”
You gulp the moment you utter the last syllable, and something resembling bafflement flashes across his features. He raises his eyebrows in disbelief, one corner of his lips twitching before his voice, dropping deeper, confesses, “I’d love to be him.”
His eyes are flaming, you think – a hint of possessiveness is dripping from them, and you feel your thoughts somersault as you dare to ask, “Why? You get something all the time.”
“If I was so pumped about just something, I wouldn’t be here.”
You wait.
He makes you restless. Your inner little self is chewing off its nails in your brain, eagerly awaiting his next steps, wondering what’s going through his head. As each second passes, his gaze cracks your mind a little more, and whenever he speaks, you feel pieces of yourself split in half.
You think perhaps he can see the hot air, steaming and cloudy, evaporate right over your head.
In reality, however, his thoughts are at an entirely different place.
Because his gaze is scanning your taut but simultaneously somehow confident demeanour. Brittle in some sense that you sit so far away, uncertain what to do with him or yourself. But your arms are folded beneath your breasts, pushing your tits up as if on purpose, and… he thinks he recognises that you’re not wearing a bra.
Don’t stare like that, he tells himself, but…
Bare legs built to seduce him… ending in the alluring curve of your ass. Your tell-tale shifting on the couch – the one he has experienced so many times with other girls before, a sign for silent yearning. And you’re avoiding his eyes, hands clasped between your thighs, as if to let your body whisper to him what you want him to do without saying a word.
Jungkook’s joggers and heart tighten when he speaks again – and your own heart revolts.
“Can you come closer?”
Your body tenses and your limbs become weightless – but somehow, you still manage to oblige, albeit several seconds later. You want to hum and ask what he wants; there must be some semblance of your irritation and sass left.
Right?
Right?
Jungkook pushes himself off the back of the couch as you draw closer, leaning into you as soon as you plant yourself next to him. You’re so close that his thigh could be touching yours if he killed the distance a little more.
But instead, he opts for something far more fatal: he lifts his hand, looking at you with a smile, and wipes a stray hair strand off your face. His touch is warm on your skin, his fingers soft and pleasant.
You realise he’s staring at the goosebumps on your neck and legs when his smile widens, and he doesn’t give you a moment to settle nor to think when he asks, “Would you wanna go look at cherry blossoms sometime?” His thumb strokes your jaw, and your heart jumps when he adds, “With me.”
You shut your open mouth, nibbling at your lower lip as his eyes follow your action before they dart back to your stare; and you question back, “You really want that?”
“I really want that.” He’s whispering, his pupils flitting to and fro, and you think that even his brain malfunctions for a moment when he finds nothing better to state than, “I think they’re pretty.”
And he thinks they’d look better with you underneath them. Perhaps you’d also realise that he’s not all that bad. Speaking of which.
“I promise I don’t ask this every girl,” he tells you, easing the dozen questions marked between your eyebrows and in your orbs, “I hardly ever go on dates at all, so…” His fingers wander to your chin, then trail along your jaw again, settling under your ear. “So I’d love it if you said yes.”
You’ll pass out. Right here, right now, on the spot, and you hope he catches your form, hope that he knows he’s the cause of your system error.
Is he really–
Damn it, you swore to yourself, you wouldn’t give in. Not to him. But it’s not your fault that he knows his way around words this well, that he can wrap you around his finger like it’s as easy to him as breathing.
Good for him. Because your lungs have apparently forgotten how to operate.
Dizzy and delirious, you manage to speak up, even if your answer contains nothing more but a measly, meek, “Okay.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah…” He moves close enough for your breath to hitch, his own grazing your face before he freezes the blood in your veins. “May I – can I kiss you?” Searching your eyes for defiance without meeting any, he states, “Really kinda wanna kiss you.”
Deep inhales. Deeper exhales. No butterflies flutter in your stomach – a whole jungle roars.
“Yeah.”
And then, with his hand on your face, he leans in, planting his lower lip between your parted ones. His thumb brushes against the apple of your cheek, and he angles his head slightly before his mouth starts to move.
His hand travels down to the small of your back, pulling you closer, and his lips part yours further when his tongue darts out to glide along the seam of your mouth. You hiss, and he swallows the sound immediately, endlessly more eager when your tongue meets his halfway.
A soft moan collides with your own, and before you know it, he’s shifted you half onto his lap. You move keenly, resting your ass on his thigh, and draping an arm around his neck to pull him closer.
Your breathing accelerates when he places his hand on your left inner thigh, prying your legs open, never leaving the heat of your lips. But when you back away, whimpering just a little, you catch his hooded stare for merely a moment before he’s turning you in his grip.
“Fuck, that was…” he whispers, pressing your back against his chest as your legs fall apart and next to each of his reflexively, “the best kiss I ever had.”
His palm touches your knee and then moves up to the hem of your shorts again, his fingers tugging at the knotted strings as you joke, “You’re lying.”
“Believe me… I don’t lie about such things,” he assures, still pulling at the strings, “so hot, and we’ve barely done anything yet…”
Yet.
Goddamn.
He opens the knot and roams your stomach, his mouth caressing your neck as he calls your name and mutters, “May I?” Digits sneak underneath your shorts and touch your pelvis, and an arm wraps around your torso as he adds, “Can I touch you, pretty?”
“I… I’d be mad if you didn’t.”
Jungkook’s chuckle reverberates in your head before his face nuzzles the crook of your neck. Once you grant him permission with another moan, his hands hurry to pull down your shorts and panties in the gentlest way – and when you find yourself bare on his lap, you shut your eyes tightly.
From his point of view, he can’t even admire your pussy properly – but having you spread in his grip, your chest heaving, drives him insane within a moment.
He draws lines on your tummy and your waist, drawing closer to where your cunt aches for him, and when two pads of his fingers press against your clit, you dig your nails into the material of the couch.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he coos, starting to move his fingers in circling motions.
His free hand grabs your jaw and moves your head to the side, allowing him to explore more of your neck and your shoulder. You’re not certain what it is about the movements of his tongue, but his touch lights up one spot after the other. You might be glowing at the end of the night; a burning torch in the dark once the sun has set.
His cock, filling with blood and eagerness, presses against your ass when you squirm in his hold, and he flattens his fingers over your clit before he rubs them along your pussy. He spreads your folds apart, teasing your entrance with the tip of his fingers as he says, “Talk to me.”
But you don’t; you keep wiggling, lifting your shirt, baring your tits – not covered by a bra as deduced. And as he stares, his eyes nearly fall out of their sockets, and the moment you pinch your nipple between your fingers, he plunges his between your aching walls.
“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook mumbles, furrowing his eyebrows when you throw back your head and arch your back. You look divine like this, and he can barely even see your face. “Talk to me, I said.”
“Not… enough.”
“What isn’t?”
He digs his digits in up to their knuckles, impressed by your dripping arousal, and brings his other hand to where he massaged your clit earlier.
“Need your dick… please.”
“Shit, you’re begging already, I–” He shakes his head, kisses a trail up your face, halts at your temple. “All in due time, okay? Lemme just…”
His fingers work skilled and agonisingly around your heat, alternating between slow and fast – and right when the coil in your stomach threatens to dissolve, his hands retract. You let out a breath you were – apparently – holding, and your palms shoot down to your pussy to keep the lack of touch minimal.
“I was gonna–” you exclaim, whining, trying to complete the job he didn’t to not let your approaching high disperse.
But then he grabs your wrist and pulls your arm aside, leaving your pussy begging and screaming as he says, “I know. Not yet.”
With your orgasm fading, you curse under your breath, wrestling out of his grip before he lets you go voluntarily. He brings his inked fingers to your mouth, breaking through the seam of your lips before you register his silent command and start sucking.
You twirl your tongue, collecting saliva, drenching his digits as he praises, “Jesus… you really know how to use this big mouth of yours, huh?”
A combination of hums and moans leaves your throat, sucking for a moment longer before he pulls out again, throwing a cocky “thank you” your way before he’s spreading your spit between your nether lips again.
He remains there for just a moment this time, and then stops, telling you, “You’ve no idea how bad I wanna taste you.”
As if he wasn’t fingerfucking you stupid, your thoughts derail and a power outage shuts your brain. The image of Jungkook eating you out… holding you down…
Where are you? What time is it? What’s your name?
“Got a condom for me, baby?”
Your inner self keysmashes, and your mind goes bbbrrrzzz for a moment before you gather your thoughts, embarrassed and dizzy, and tell him, “My room,” you point at your door behind the couch, “bedside table… second drawer…”
Jungkook plants a tender kiss at the corner of your lips, and then pushes you onto the couch gently. He stands with a giant, fat bulge stretching his joggers, and you ogle at it for a second, half naked, before he brushes a hand through his hair and says, “Take off your clothes. I want you fully naked and on your knees once I’m back.”
Amidst the hazy atmosphere, you somehow find the courage to roll your eyes, and he laughs sweetly, indulging in your cuteness before he walks away. You hurry to drag the shirt over your head, shifting to bend over the arm of the couch as you wait; and before you can do anything more, he’s back, impatient and hurried.
He throws the package next to you, ridding his body of his shirt and his joggers smoothly. You crane your neck to look at him, and lower your torso, lifting your ass until you hear him hiss and remark, “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Pressing your ass into my face, brat.”
“I’m doing no such thing. Just did what you told m–”
A harmless but firm slap rings in your ears, eliciting a gasp out of you as his knees hit the couch. He crawls closer before he pulls his underwear down; and by all deities above, if you’d known what was coming at you, you would’ve started all of this so much sooner.
Because you can’t stop staring. Standing erect and rock hard, his leaking cock inches closer, its sheer length and thickness so overwhelming that you almost turn around and ready yourself to drool around it.
But Jungkook grabs a handful of your ass again, slamming a palm against your flesh before he warns, “Behave, will you? You wanna be able to walk tomorrow, don’t you?”
“I…” you begin, your eyes rolling back when he spits into his hand again and palms your cunt. He shoves his fingers into you once more, curling them for a moment before he pulls out and you continue, “I don’t wanna be able to walk tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Want you to… fuck my brains out,” you admit, pressing your cheek against the sofa arm before you add politely, “please.”
“I… I won’t be able to hold back, if you keep saying that.” A sound of foil ripping echoes through the room; for a moment, it’s silent, but then, he moves closer, the head of his cock prodding your entrance. “I might just wreck your shit.”
You move your ass towards him some more, provoking, “Do to me whatever you wanna, Kook.”
Damn it.
His nickname falling out of your mouth is so ridiculously cute; but the rest of your sentence is coated with coarse vulgarity. 
“Fuck, that filthy mouth of yours… it’s gonna kill me,” Jungkook whispers, holding your hips in place when your movements don’t stop, “stay still for me, baby.”
But you don’t need to stop your hips from provoking him further, because when the tip of his cock pushes in, your body becomes light as a feather, trembling, voiding, as though he punctured the tyre that your torso is. The more he buries of himself, the more you think there can’t be more to fill you up.
Jungkook, however, keeps going, and when he finally stops, he dares to say, “Gonna take it easy, okay?”
And he does – begins with a soft groan that vibrates through the sound waves of the air, his hands still on your waist as he moves in and out slowly. Breathing heavier, you clutch the couch, broken moans falling off your tongue as he fucks you with half his cock still out.
“How’s it feel?” he asks, snapping you out of your daze.
Trapped in a cubicle of carnal lust and yearning, you swallow, muttering, “Good… you can,” you press your lips together when he plunges in again, mewling, “you can go faster.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes… please.”
On second thought, Jungkook wonders if his question was required at all – because you’re sucking him in anyway, a waterfall making a mess of his length, as if the walls of your pussy are dragging him in incessantly.
So he obliges, and his motions change, moving faster and just a little harder. More of his cock disappears into your cunt. His eyes jump to the way your ass adjusts to his ministrations, pressing against his hips; and he squeezes it once, groaning in exasperation before he says, “I’m usually proud of my stamina.”
You let out a shaky exhale, attempting to look at him, and voice, “Huh?”
“Just dunno how long I’ll be,” a sharp thrust and your body reels forward, “able to hold back today… with you.”
He clouds your senses without mercy, and human language becomes a mirage that dissipates whenever you think you’ve found words to utter again. You think you wouldn’t mind being fucked by him for the rest of your life; you wouldn’t even be opposed if he decided to break you in half, if it meant you get to experience one more pounding session with Jeon Jungkook.
He’s still not balls deep inside you until he stops abruptly, taking a second to admire your form; but that second stretches too long for your liking. Keeping your balance by holding onto the couch tighter, you push your ass back, not stopping until you feel skin against yours.
You’re amazed just how easily he slides in; how easily your pussy swallows him, eager to feel every inch of him. And once you start fucking yourself on him harsher and with more force, Jungkook exclaims, “Oh my fucking god.” Waits a little, brushes his damp hair back, blinking before he carries on, “Aren’t we cock hungry?”
“Y-your cock… yes…” You hate stroking his ego, but you can’t detect a single lie in your words. And so, you add, “Feels so good, Jungkook.”
Clenching your jaw, you open your eyes, the door of Namjoon’s room in front of you blurry when you feel tears of pleasure build along your waterline. You whine and cry out, taking him all in. His cock pierces through you with tantalising rubs, and you think that if you’re not careful, you might feel him in your guts all too soon.
“You look good enough to eat, y’know?” Jungkook praises as he watches you engulf his cock whole, hard, fast.
You blend out the sounds coming out of you, ones you’re sure you’ve never heard before, and tell him, “Thanks. I’d love to– to see you too, though.”
Your attempt at leaving him motionless and speechless comes to end when he wraps his palms around your shoulders, hot skin colliding before he slams into you out of nowhere. Once and twice, meeting your actions; and then, he stops as fast as he began, suddenly pulling out and leaving you empty and pulsating.
Another – harsher – slap lands on your ass, and you’re close to buckling and turning around before he pushes your rear up with his hands, leaning down and attaching his lips to your pussy.
His tongue moves in figure eights, the wet muscle, soothing and soft compared to his solid dick, lapping up your juices, gathering extra spit on its surface until the saliva is dripping onto your sofa. He wraps his mouth around your clit, sucking gently and with just the right amount of force.
The groans vibrate through your body, and he whispers unintelligible words that you can’t quite make sense of. You know he’s tilting his head when he pushes your ass cheeks apart some more and digs in further, tasting you thoroughly. He hums deep into your pussy, and only emerges with a smack when your eyes have already rolled back into your head.
“As much as I like your taste,” he then murmurs. You continue to keen and moan, pressing your cheek against the couch, overwhelmed from the sensation; and when he plummets against the back of the sofa, he orders, “Ride me, doll.”
“You know…” you start, meeting his hungry eyes as your quivering limbs carry you closer to him, “on any other day, I’d laugh if you called me that.”
Jungkook laughs before he traps his lip between his teeth, observing your every movement; breathes out deeply when you straddle him. As you plant your hands on his chest, his fingers bring his cock back to your entrance, and he questions quietly, “And today?”
“Today… you could recite the entire periodic table and I’d find you,” you lower yourself onto him, closing your eyes with your tits trapped between your arms, “so fucking sexy.”
“Perhaps… later then, huh? Let’s see which element we make it to.”
Number 8.
Oxygen.
You need oxygen – he’s too smug; too much. You might lose your mind, if you don’t focus.
And so, you smile down onto him, and the lewd mess that you’re living through suddenly becomes a dream to him – admittedly, one that he imagined differently. Not this sudden. Not this good.
He bottoms out each time you fall back onto him, your hips drawing patterns of eight, feet digging into the couch. Your tits bounce with each descend of your body, and you rub your clit against his pelvis any chance you get.
Blissful and lost, your fingers skid along his abs, grazing the ridges, and then come back to his firm chest, sweaty under your touch as you admit, “You’re crazy hot.”
Jungkook’s eyes shimmer at the sudden compliment; he presses into your thighs harder, earning a fierce scraping of your nails against his skin. He’s sure you’re leaving scratch marks – he reckons he’ll probably die when he finds them light red and faded the next day once he glances into the mirror.
With you on top, he shifts a little, gathering his energy in his muscles once more before he places a hand at the nape of your neck and pulls you down to him in a swift motion. His parted lips crash against yours, all teeth and tongue; but the kiss is less a kiss and more a battle for dominance.
Your moans gain on volume when he begins jackhammering into you, arms pressing you down until you’re flush against him. Nearly screaming into his ear, you wrap your fingers in his hair, registering every sweep of his teeth and tongue along your neck as you shriek, “Oh my god, just like that, ple–”
“Such a good girl, being vocal like that… taking me like that,” he drawls, fucking into you powerfully, “my good girl, aren’t you?”
An ocean of rippling desire courses through you like ecstasy, and you scold yourself internally for swallowing the drug that Jungkook is this fast. But who are you to deny that you’ve finally found answers to your hitherto barred questions? Once wondering what exactly makes him so charismatic, so flamingly intriguing… now you know.
Still processing his praises, he pulls your drowning mess out of your vertigo. And then, he flips you over effortlessly, still balls deep inside you as he comes to hover above you. He leans down and catches your nipple between his teeth, alternating between nibbling and crude sucking as his hand fondles with your other breast.
Wet hair falls like a dark curtain around his face, and your nerves go haywire when he pushes into you deep. Pinned against and fucked into the cushions, his mouth on your tits sends a current through your body. Once he emerges, he seeks your gaze, fingers on your jaw as he asks, “How do you feel?”
“I… so much better than… I imagined.”
“Imagined?”
A question mark forms in his eyes, but he smirks vainly, bringing his face to yours until his breath is smogging your mind once again. But then, you revoke your statement, claiming, “It’s nothing.”
He stares at you quietly before he chuckles, still not convinced, and smacks your tit. His hand settles around your neck slowly, carefully as he commands, “Spill.”
You nearly choke on your saliva when he presses into your neck gently, lifting your head. Capitulating, you wail before you confess, “Had a dream… the night we– we matched.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook whispers, his tongue gliding along your lips. “Elaborate.”
“I– wanted you to fuck me so fucking bad, but… you ass never did.”
“Dream Jungkook is a damn jerk then. I would never,” his pounding slows down, his legs tired, and he waits a moment before he continues, “I thought about it, too. Don’t know why but…”
Another pause, significantly longer this time.
“But?”
“Always kinda thought of kissing you in the rain and stuff…”
He murmurs it like he’s embarrassed of the revelation; provides one hard thrust as if to veil his softness behind his devilish actions. But you laugh lightly, still not used to his inked hand around your throat as you tease, “How sappy.”
“I can be, okay?” he argues, his free palm raising your leg up his torso. You hum and call his name as he speaks, faintly hearing, “As in… wanna tell you how gorgeous you look with my fingers around your neck. Like… like a pretty necklace.”
“Romance isn’t dead, huh?”
“Well,” he answers, chuckling before his palm vanishes, holding your hips instead, “I don’t think about kissing in the rain with just anyone.”
“And now…” you breathe, your arms snaking around his neck, “can you kiss me now, too?”
It takes a mere smile and a closing of distance to give in to you, the kiss soft yet messy somehow. Barely any time passes before you’re rubbing your clit and creaming his cock, the orgasm so intense and mind-numbing that your entire body shakes.
Your legs grow weak, your soul ascending – it takes you a moment to open your eyes and look at him again, but when you do, he’s staring at you in admiration. Like he’s seeing you for the first time. And then, he says, “You’re… the fucking hottest girl I’ve ever seen.”
And coming from Jeon Jungkook, this must be the compliment of the century.
Not soon after, his movements become sloppy and unsteady too, and when his voice falls a few octaves, you know what’s happening before he says it, “Gonna come, I–”
He pulls out, ripping the condom off; but before he can jerk himself off, you sit up straight, surprising him pleasantly when you grab his cock and take him into your mouth as much your throat allows. His shaft hits the back and triggers your gag reflex almost immediately, but you don’t falter as you begin to bop your head back and forth.
Your tongue swirls around the smooth skin – and with him already on the edge, it takes barely a minute before his cock twitches and he calls your name. His body shivers, his hand in your hair; one more suck and… you close your eyes.
Breathing through the nose, you swallow every rope of cum he spills inside you, his hips stuttering as much as his voice – and then, he’s done, his chin resting against his chest. Sinking back into the couch, he pulls you with him, chuckling a little as he says, “Now that was. Really unexpected.”
“In a good way, I hope.”
“Are you kidding? In the best way.”
You fall onto his torso softly, placing your hands under your cheek as you look up at him and catch your breath. The room is sex-scented and hot, but the heat doesn’t compare to when Jungkook meets your gaze gently.
He smiles at you, wiggling his eyebrows as if to ask how it’s going; and you laugh, telling him, “That was crazy. Pinch me, so I know it happened.”
You think he’ll oblige, if only to tease you – but instead, he pulls you closer, pecking your lips once as he confirms, “It happened.” He bites into his lower lip, watching your eyelashes fall timidly before he adds, “I… listen, I know what you think of me. And you might be right about most things, but…”
No matter how much confidence he exudes on any other day, he seems to stumble over his words a lot when he’s around you. You wonder what it is today that has him struggling this way.
“But that was a great deal to me,” he continues, gulping, “and I’d like to do it again. Not just fucking you, but like… spending time with you. A genuine date.”
“I believe you,” you finally muster to admit. After the gazes he threw at you, the touches you shared and the words you exchanged… there must be some truth. You reckon he wouldn’t bother to say those things if he was just toying with you. “Where’s that cherry blossom park then?”
“I’ll take you there!” Jungkook chimes optimistically, his arms around you squeezing your body once.
You’re laughing about god knows what and talking about the most obscure topics, bare, sweat-soaked and slightly shuddering. And then, out of the blue, he clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he remarks, “Can’t believe you dreamed of me.”
With heated cheeks, you pout, hiding your face a little before you take it a step further and say, “I also imagined you taking off your glasses and kissing me…”
“When?”
“In uh… class.”
“Woah. That’s not even dreaming anymore.”
“It hasn’t happened that often!” you defend, slapping his firm bicep playfully while joining his delighted, amused snicker.
He pushes you to your back, pinning your wrists to the couch to stop your gentle attacks. His nose brushes yours, his lips a hair’s breadth away as he whispers, “Really not?”
“No.” He cocks an eyebrow, and you shrug. “No! I didn’t!”
“If you say so.”
And then, he’s leaning in more, kissing you gingerly; and when he pulls back, you smile, your eyes falling to the mole on his neck as you say, “By the way. Can I ask you something?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you ever name your car – and if yes, then what?”
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When Monday morning rolls around, you show up in class wearing the dress from last summer. It’s cute and cosy, hugging you at just the right places. He’s right – you should’ve flaunted it and yourself more.
And apparently, he loves it just as much as before, because he grins when you walk in and occupy a free seat two rows behind him. He turns and looks over his shoulder, smiling at you with a slight nod that you return in kind.
His eyes look soft and sweet; his stance relaxed and comfortable – and before he turns back, he takes off his glasses, licks his lips and winks. Shamelessly, intriguingly.
You make a mental note to ask him where the dress looks better; on your body – or on his floor.
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YAY am i the only one who loves them so much 😭 if you enjoyed nmf, please don’t forget to like, reblog (!!!) and let me know what you think !! writing fics takes ages, so even a small feedback is truly appreciated <33
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katebacks · 3 months
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All Mine - JJK (M)
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→ pairing | Jeon Jungkook x Reader
→ genre | smut, angst, ceo!jungkook
→ word count | 6,431
→ summary | CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country,
Jungkook didn't have much time for love. You were in love with him,
but he didn't feel the same way about you, at least that's what you thought.
→ warnings |sex, Adult content, alcoholic beverages, low slang words.
→ A/N| I've been away for a long time, but I'm slowly coming back now. I haven't come off hiatus yet, but it's a start. Please, if you like it, reblog and comment, I'm always open to suggestions.
You knew it was wrong, but it was something you couldn't avoid. From the day you laid your eyes on Jungkook, you had fallen madly in love, but always knew he didn't feel the same way and probably never would. He was cold, impatient and sometimes mean. Well, maybe most of the time he was mean, that was his nature and he made that very clear when you went on a date for the first time.
Despite being a gentleman, he wasn't romantic at all, he wasn't a man of flowers or romanticism.  He could open doors for you, he could pull out your chair for you to sit in, he could buy you gifts and expensive things, but he would never say those three words that most human beings expect to hear. And at first you were fine with that, but after a year in a relationship that was seemingly without commitments and feelings on his part, you were feeling tired. Tired of wanting him to spend the night at your apartment , tired of receiving diamond necklaces the mornings after sex as compensation for him not staying. You were tired of being treated as just an object, as something to satisfy his sexual desires, and mostly tired of him trying to control your life completely.
Jungkook was the president of a pharmaceutical company, the most successful in the country, which was on its way to winning the Academy Award for Global Entrepreneurship. So he was almost always busy, signing contracts, leading new research, traveling on business, so you only saw each other 6 times a month.  Sometimes he decided at the last minute that he would take you with him on a trip, forcing you to undo your commitments and ignore your duties for weeks, and even though you didn't have a job, since your life seemed to revolve only around him, with him paying all your expenses, including putting an apartment in your name, you attended business administration college, and you had exams and assignments that you did with your friends. That's why you always ended up getting on bad terms with your friends for missing your college dates, but you never got a bad image to the university itself, because since he started dating you, Jungkook started donating millions of dollars to your college.
But about the trips, you never complained about it. You visited Paris, Italy, Switzerland, Dubai and several other countries. During the day, you went out and got to know the city you were in, you went to the tourist spots, met new people, ate the native foods, but you always did it yourself, all alone,  because he was always busy with his business meetings, and only saw you at night, in his room.
You also had nothing to complain about the sex. It was always full of lust and madness, goosebumps and sweat. His hands went against the sensitive points of your body and your hands gripped his muscular arms. When you had your chest against the mattress, and he was on top of you, hitting you hard from behind, you would squeeze the sheet between your fingers, and he would caress your arms, bringing his hands to yours, intertwining your fingers. When you were on top, riding, the sweat pouring down your neck, strolling between your breasts, until it dripped onto Jungkook's defined abdomen, you held onto the headboard, using all your strength to do it faster and faster. As he held your waist, pressing his fingers against your skin, his eyes glued to your wet body, the moans echoing through the room, the bed creaking, he cursed as he felt himself coming, gripping your body, sitting on the bed, using the strength of his arms to keep you still on his lap, while you felt his hot liquid spurt into you, the pleasure taking over your body, and you were delirious, coming on his dick.
Then you fell down on the mattress, he pulled you into a hug until he felt that your breathing had normalized, and that your body had stopped spasming. He would get up, get his clothes and not even shower, just kiss you good night and walk out the door of your apartment, leaving you too tired to even try to stop him. And then it would take him days to respond to your messages or call you for yet another overwhelming night.
You were just tired of this bullshit.
You had enough money in the bank to support yourself for months, even years if you lowered your life quality  a little bit and stopped buying so many expensive things. And if you needed to, you had real diamond necklaces, earrings and rings that you could sell for a good price, as well as exclusive brand clothes, shoes and bags. You worked before you met him and your old boss assured you that if you wanted your job back, you would have it. There was nothing that could stop you from getting your freedom back, and meeting other people, having a loving relationship with someone else, other than the fact that you were totally heads over heels in love with Jungkook.
"So, are you coming to celebrate Minho's birthday with us tonight?" Rosé asked as you walked across campus. She was your age and in your class, she was also your best friend and shared everything with you, just like you did with her. She had a body to be envied, buttery brown, caramelized, as she liked to say. Her light pink hair shone as she walked and drew stares, compliments and sighs. She wasn't exactly the easiest person to deal with, she had the strong spirit, the strongest personality and that's why you admired her so much. As long as you had known each other, you had never seen her cry for any man, quite the contrary, it was men who cried for her. And she was the only one of your friends who knew about Jungkook.
"Yeah, I can't even remember the last time I had something with alcohol. I need to drink and go wild."
"Your Sugar Daddy won't let you drink.” She laugh.  “I highly doubt he'll let you hang out with us, anyway. Doesn't he hate you going out without him? So bossy, gosh."
"He's not my Sugar Daddy." You protested.
"Oh no? So what do we call a rich old man who pays everything for a young girl? Philanthropist? Good old man?"
"He's thirty-two. He's only fiveyears older than I am, he’s not that old.” 
Rose rolled her eyes.
"Well, he's not your boyfriend, so..."
"Anyway, we're not hanging out anymore." You shrugged. "The last time I saw him was almost two weeks ago. Since then he hasn't called or texted, and I haven't tried to get in touch either."
"Have you finally come to your senses and realized he wants nothing more than sex with you? And that he will never want to get married or have children?" She asked stopping in her tracks and grabbing your arm, causing you to stop as well. You just shook your head and nodded, a tear starting to run down your cheek, even though you fought so hard to hold it back. Rosé hugged you and stroked your back.
"I just wanted to understand why he can't love me. Am I that bad? Am I so stupid that he didn't even want to spend time with me to get to know me? Am I only good for sex?"
"Don't say those things, this guy is just another asshole in the world and he doesn't deserve you to spend your expensive foundation on him. Not even if he paid for it."
That comment made you laugh through your tears and be grateful for having Rosé by your side.
"Come on, let's pick out our clothes for tonight. Let's dress as slutty as possible, and oh, Minho has a crush on you. Maybe tonight you should use him to forget about Jungkook."
...
You were just getting dressed, wearing  a short, low-cut black satin dress, and high heels of the same color. You chose to pull your hair into a high bun, leaving your shoulders exposed.
You were just putting on your earrings when the doorbell rang. And you shivered all over. Usually, the doorman called to let you know that there was someone in the building who was asking permission to go up to your apartment, and the neighbors almost never stayed home as they were always traveling for work, so there was only one option of who was at your door.
You held yourself still, hoping that if you didn't make a noise, he would leave, but a few seconds later you heard the electronic lock being unlocked and the door opening. It was Jungkook. He always rang the doorbell first before entering the apartment so he wouldn't scare you. But still, you were scared as fuck. He never came to visit you without telling you first. Something was wrong, and you could sense it.
"Princess, are you home?" You could hear his voice coming from the living room, as you heard his footsteps in the hallway, probably heading towards your room. That was it. There was nothing to do. You simply went back to looking at yourself in the mirror, finishing putting on your earrings, remaining calm. When he entered the room, he stopped pacing suddenly, frowning at your, not expecting to find your like this.
God, how wonderful he was. He was all in black, wearing casual clothes, with his suede shoe. His brown hair tossed back, and his scent invading the room. He carried a bottle of wine, a Romanée Conti Grand Cru in one hand while his cell phone and apartment access card were in the other. You looked at him in the mirror, waiting for him to say something, but he continued to stare, relentlessly. You turned to him, his eyes falling on your shoulders and cleavage, for a few seconds he remained there, just looking at you, until he finally seemed to come to his senses and raised his gaze to yours, still frowning.
"Why are you dressed like that?" He asked in a serious tone, the kind he used when he didn't like something. You looked at yourself for a few seconds before turning your attention to him.
"Why? Isn't it good?"
"You look absolutely gorgeous." He exclaimed without hesitation, bringing a stupid smile to your face."Did we have anything scheduled today?" Jungkook looked at his rolex, trying to remember if he had forgotten any appointments he had made with you that night.
"Hmm, no." You said, still unsure what to say. Jungkook raised his head, again looking towards you with a frown. You bit your lip and turned back to the dressing table behind you, opening your jewelry drawer and looking for a necklace. "I'm going out with some friends today." And so you chose one that had only one cut diamond pendant in the shape of a heart. Jungkook had given it to you for your birthday, two months after you started hanging out.
“What friends?” You didn't even have the courage to look at his reflection in your mirror as you heard his voice getting angrier. But you couldn't understand why. He'd said himself that there was nothing between you, so why did he seem so upset?
“Some college friends. It's one of our classmates' birthday today and Rosé invited me to go with them to a pub downtown.” And that was it, you were ready to leave.
"Okay." he almost whispered. "And why didn't you tell me?" He asked putting the wine bottle on top of the dresser that was next to the door, and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. You shrugged and turned to him, who still had that confused, troubled expression on his face.
"You didn't call or text, you just... disappeared for almost two weeks, I thought you'd finally found a new sex toy and had forgotten about me. I was just moving on."
And so you walked past him, heading to the closet and looking for something. Jungkook blinked a few times until he finally understood what was happening and turned towards you, who was wearing your jacket.
"Is there something you want to tell me, (y/n)?" He never calls you by your name, only when you were in a fight or about to get into one. And you didn't feel like fighting at all, because you knew that every time, you ended up in bed, and he ended up leaving, as usual. You just sighed, fighting the urge to start cursing and jumping into his arms, and just grabbed your keys and your cell phone off the nightstand next to your bed. When you turned to him again, he remained motionless.
"I don't have anything to talk to you about, Jungkook. Like you said, we're just two adults having no-strings-attached sex, I don't owe you any explanations.” You didn't even know where you got so much strength to say that. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going out with my friends. If you want to stay, make yourself at home, if not, don't forget to lock the door when you leave."
When you walked out the apartment door, you felt like you could finally breathe again. You weren't afraid of Jungkook's reaction, you knew he would never do anything violent or dangerous to you, but you knew he was quite possessive of his stuff, and you knew he thought you was his. And to be honest, you knew you were his, you felt like his, but that had to change, you had to get over it. You wanted a family, children someday, and you knew he didn't want something like that. He wasn't the right man for you.
It didn't take long for your taxi to arrive, and by the time you boarded, Jungkook still hadn't left the building. Maybe he would stay there a little longer, maybe he would wait for you to come back. But you would try not to worry about it.
When you arrived at the pub, Rosé was outside, waiting for you to arrive. You had already been to that place once, Jungkook was the one who took you and there you’d stayed in the VIP area. It was quite an experience counting that you had sex in one of the bathrooms.
“Ready to forget that asshole?”
No, you weren’t
“Yeah, I am.”
But you could pretend it.
...
The night was moving really slowly, you had like three or four drinks, and had a bunch of strangers hitting on you like they know you. The songs were good and you even danced some with Rosé, but it was weird to be in a place like this without Jungkook shielding you from the others. You always felt safe when he was close to you, but even with your male college friends hanging around, you couldn't let go, for fear that one of those weird guys that was hitting on you might decide to do something. Being a woman wasn't easy, but being a woman in the middle of a pub full of drunk men and possible predators was even harder. And you hated it. You hated misogyny in society, you hated feeling like a targed, and you hated feeling so dependent on Jungkook.
"Is everything alright?" Minho's voice sounded close to your ear, making you look over your shoulder and see him standing right next to you. He was a tall, handsome man with black hair and an athlete's physique, he was polite and kind, and he loved children. He would be your perfect match if there wasn't an asshole on your mind.
“Yeah, I’m just tired.”  You smiled. “So? Having fun?”
"Oh, I don't know. Sometimes I think I've lost the ability to have fun at parties that start after 8 pm." He said scratching the back of his neck. "I guess I'm too old for these things."
"Don't say that, you must be tired of studying and working so hard." You said taking a sip of your drink.
"But what about you? You don't seem to be enjoying yourself either." He sat on the bench next to you, turning to face you, his arm resting on the counter, very, very close to you, so close that his hand almost touched yours that that covered the glass on the counter, preventing anyone from trying to put something in your drink.
"No, I'm having fun." You lied. "I'm just really tired, it's been a long week."
"Well, yeah, Rosé said you've been pretty busy with some personal projects. And to be honest, I've always been really curious about what those projects were, or if you were actually just dating someone and didn't want anyone to know." He gave a wan smile. "But she assured me that you didn't have a boyfriend and that you were actually looking for one."
You laughed humorlessly. Rosé, i’ll kill you. You thought.
"It's like her to say something like that."
"Look, I'll be really straight, I know we're not that close, we are both always busy and we hardly see each other at university, but you know, I kind of have a crush on you, and by crush I mean I'm dying to be more than your friend." You felt your cheeks burn, but couldn't stop staring into his eyes, which gave him enough confidence to go on. "And if you give me a chance, I think I could make a great boyfriend. Not that I'm saying we're going to start dating right on the first date." He chuckled sheepishly, and you thought that was so cute that you couldn't contain a shy laugh either. "I'm really bad at these things, sorry, I'm not very good at hitting on a girl." He cleared his throat, glancing around. "Anyway, I think we should dance, to see if this embarrassing moment can be broken."
"That would be a good idea, but I kind of don't like dancing around all these people, there are a lot of men here and I don't like the idea of a strange man trying to rub himself against me.”
"They are not going to touch you." He said smiling, reaching out to you. "I won’t let them." You bit your lip, thinking for a second. You needed to take a chance on whatever it was, only then would you be able to forget Jungkook. Or at least begin to try.
You smiled and nodded, reaching your hand towards him, but before you could even bring your fingers into Minho's palm, a huge male hand wrapped around yours, making you turn around to see who it was, your eyes widening when you saw Jungkook looking down to you. And what surprised you the most at that moment was not the fact that he was there, but the soft look he had.
"Forgive my tardiness, princess." He said smiling, bringing his face closer to yours and giving you a kiss on the forehead, leaving you even more in shock. "Kyle and I got stuck in a huge traffic jam." Kyle, the man almost as tall as Jungkook, dark-haired, dressed in a suit, who was standing two steps behind him, was his private security, his bodyguard. There was nowhere Jungkook went that Kyle wasn't together, except of course, your apartment. You didn't talk much, usually he was very quiet, and polite, he greeted you and that was it, he was silent for the rest of the time.
“You must be the birthday boy, I suppose. I hope I got here before you blew out the candles.” He turned to Minho who had a confused look and still had his hand extended towards you. If it had been on other occasions, you would have caught the sarcasm in Jungkook's words, but at that moment, you were still trying to process that he was still holding your hand.
On the other hand, Minho seems to have understood very well what he meant.
“(y/n), there you are... Oh my god what is the steel giant doing here?” Rosé came out of the crowd that was occupying the dance floor, and just like you, she widened her eyes when she saw him.
"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Minho asked, putting his hand down. A smile appeared on Jungkook's face as the sparkle in Minho's eyes faded.
"I'm Jeon Jungkook, (y/n)'s boyfriend." He simply said. The two girls looked at each other, still wide-eyed, mouths agape, while hissing ‘oh my god’ without making a single sound.
"Wow, you really do have a boyfriend." Minho laughed dryly. "I don't... I thought... Rosé told me you didn't have anyone... I didn't want to... You should have told me." 
You just wanted to curl up and hide from all that embarrassment. You didn't even know you had a boyfriend, how could you tell others that you had one?
“No, no, no, she doesn’t have a boyfriend, he’s lying.” Rosé intervened, making everyone look at her. Even Jungkook frowned at her. "If she had a boyfriend, she would have said it, wouldn't you (y/n)?" 
You wanted to say something, but you didn't know what. Luckily, Jungkook always had an answer for everything and saved you the shame of making up a blatant lie.
“We kept our relationship a secret for some time, I didn't want her to be disturbed by onlookers or reporters. I didn't want our personal lives to end up on the cover of a magazine.”
“What, you’re like famous or something?” Rosé questioned, crossing her arms in a very arrogant and petulant way.
"I'm just Hanmi's CEO."
"You mean the Hanmi Enterprise?" Minho asked totally shocked. Jungkook nodded. "Like, the biggest pharmaceutical company in the country?"
“Yes.”
"Oh my god sir, I swear I didn't know (y/n) was your girlfriend, I would never do anything...” And he started freaking out. “My god, the Hanmi Enterprise is every business administration student's dream in this country, the internship project that you have is just amazing."
Rosé rolled her eyes and grabbed your hand.
"While you guys sit there sucking each other's balls, (y/n) and I are going to the bathroom."
And she started pulling you towards the bathrooms. The moment you were inside, she turned towards you and slapped your arm.
“Ouch. Why did you do that?”
“Why did i...What the hell were you thinking of calling the Iceman, Olaff's creator, to come here?”
“How many drinks did you have? Elza is the creator of Olaff, not the... Ouch, stop hitting me.” 
"If you didn't invite him, then how the hell did he... Oh my lord. " And she covered her mouth, her eyes widening. "Do you think he implanted a mini tracker in you while you slept?"
“He didn’t do that, Rosé.”
"So he's tracking your phone, what a freak."
"He doesn't..." You took a deep breath. "Rosé, he's a partner at this nightclub. I've come here other times with him, one of his friends must have called and said I was here."
"Why didn't you tell me that when we arrived? I could have chosen another place."
"I didn't know he would come after me, at least not after the short conversation we had before I came here."
"What conversation?" She asked stopping to go around in circles. "I thought you guys weren't talking."
"And we weren't, but today he showed up at my apartment by surprise, all…perfect, holding a very expensive bottle of wine. I said I was going out with some friends, he asked why I didn't tell him, I said I didn't owe him an explanation, and I left."
"Oh, so I know exactly what's going on here, he's trying to show that he's the alpha male, and that you can even say you don't owe him an explanation, but still, you belong to him."
"Well maybe I do."
"I can't believe you're saying this." She said, in disbelief. "Have you forgotten how he's been treating you all this time?"
"Look Rosé, he never promised me roses and hearts, I always knew he didn't want a serious relationship, but you saw what he just did, he declared in front of other people that he's my boyfriend. That has to be worth something." You said throwing your hands up. "I think perhaps I should give him one more chance."
The girl was thoughtful for a few seconds, until a smile that you knew well appeared on her lips.
“I know this face, what are you up to?”
“I thought of a great way to test your Sugar Daddy.” And so she walked towards the door, while you rolled your eyes and followed.
"He's not my sugar daddy." And when they opened the door, they both came face to face with Kyle, the bodyguard, who was standing in front of them. “Kyle, what are you doing here?”
"What do you think? The old man told him to come after you. So controlling.” Rosé complained.
“Mr Jeon asked to let you know that he and your friends are in the VIP area, and that he is waiting for you there.” Kyle said simply. Rosé just sighed and headed in a direction opposite to the VIP area. “Is your friend all right, Miss (y/l/n)? Need something?"
"No, she's fine, you get used to it with time."
After climbing the stairs that led to the VIP area, (y/n) noticed that the two sofas were almost full, there was only one vacant seat, on a loveseat sofa and was right next to Jungkook. He was engaged in conversation with the other guys, and they were probably talking about politics and his company. Deciding you should drink some more, to process everything that was going on, you headed to the drinks counter and sat there, ordering a margherita for the waiter.
It didn't take long before a hand went to your waist and Jungkook sat down beside you.
"So... Steel giant, huh?"
(y/n) looked at him for a few seconds before taking a sip of her drink.
"Don't think about it too much, Rosé is 5.25ft tall, anyone is a giant for her."
"She doesn't seem to like me very much, you must have spoken very badly about me." He said nodding to the bartender that already knew what his drink would be.
“I only told the truth. It's not my fault if you're the bad guy.”
"I'm not the bad guy, only when you ask me to be." He whispered the last part. At other times it would turn you on, but at that moment, you weren't in the mood for it. Then you swiveled around on the bench, facing him.
“Look, why are you here anyway?” You asked. “Why did you come to tell my friends that you're my boyfriend when you really aren't? Have you come to show that you own me?”
“To be honest, it made me jealous to death that you could be getting hooked up with other men, and that possibly at one time or another, you would fall for one of them.” He said staring at Minho while he was talking to his friends. “And I could have sworn you were falling for that guy.”
“And what do you have to do with it, Jungkook? It was you who said that..."
"I know what I said, princess, and I was wrong."
And he made you gawk.
“Were you?”
"Yeah." He nodded. "Look, I'm not good at this, and I'm trying to change my behavior with you because you deserve so much more than a guy like me and I want to be someone who deserves you." He sighed. “Today I received the best news I could receive in the business world. And the first thing I thought of was you, I thought how much I wanted to share this news with you and how important you are to me. So I went to your apartment with that wine. I thought it was about time I had a conversation with you about my feelings, about why I was so…cold.”
"Well, you can tell me now." You said still not believing what you had heard.
“No, it's a conversation we should have alone. And I don't want to stop you from having fun with your friends. In fact, I just want you to know that I don't think of you as a toy, I know my actions so far just said that, but I swear that's not how I feel about you." He said getting up and approaching you, hovering over you, holding your face. "I just wanted you to know that..."
"(y/n)!" Rosé's voice caught your attention, and you turned to the side, seeing your friend running towards you. “Come with me, now!” And so she grabbed your arm, taking it from Jungkook's hands, who just sighed and sat down again, watching you walk down the stairs until you lost sight of you.
"What's it?" you asked, your voice not loud enough to override the loud music in the room. You were being pulled into the crowd, on the dance floor in the common part of the Pub.
“You will dance with me. Our special Have Mercy choreography.”
"What? What are you...”
“I'm going to prove to you that Jungkook doesn't deserve a second chance, that he's controlling and that the moment he sees you dancing sensually among this bunch of guys, he's going to drag you out of here. Because that's what shit men do, they fuck women up, he takes away your freedom and ends your life. Trust me."
"Rosé, he's not like that."
"Oh no? Then dance with me and prove me wrong."
When CHLOE's voice invaded the place, Rosé started dancing the 'special choreography' they had created in their freshman year of college, when they met and became best friends. It was something sensual and provocative, and one that would surely attract the attention of both sexes there. Praying that no strangers would try to grope you, you started dancing with your friend.  
You weren't the best dancer in the world, but you always liked to dance, it made you elastic and it was a great exercise for people who, like you, didn't like working out. Rosé had a lot more waddle, she could wiggle her hips a lot better, and she created all the choreography. And if she didn't like what she studied in college so much, she'd probably be a dancer.
And the highlight of the choreography, in your opinion, was when you wiggled your ass, keeping your legs straight and lowered your torso, touching your fingertips to the floor, and then you went up at once, throwing your hair back, and lowered yourselves. at once, as if you were actually going to sit down.
“(y/n) and Rosé are killing it.” One of the friends from the university who was in the VIP area said, making the others look over the railing, to the dance floor below, seeing the two swaying among the other people, attracting several looks.Jungkook approached the protection bar, holding a glass of whiskey and watched you, who tossed your hair, went down and up, made provocative movements and was attracting a lot of attention.
He looked at Kyle who got the message and just waved his hand, calling out to the other security guards who followed the boss to the common area dance floor.
Jungkook looked around, seeing the amount of men who were watching you too.
“Bunch of pervs. Kyle" He called, not taking his eyes off his girl.
“Sir?”
"Don't let any man touch her."
"Yes sir." And so Kyle led the security guards who, one by one, barred any man from approaching the two girls in the middle of the dance floor who with your dance, now infected other girls who danced sensually around them. Jungkook started walking in circles, slowly, around the girls, eyes glued to you. In his mind, several scenarios were happening, several memories were reproduced and the fire that burned in his chest, only seemed to burn with even more intensity.
When herealize that a man managed to avoid the security guards and enter the circle, and that he had his eyes and even his hands raised towards you, Jungkook quickened his pace, slipping between you and the boy, looking him up and down, his gaze cold and intimidating, not needing anything else for the boy to back off.
At the end of the song, you and Rosé celebrated and only then looked around, seeing that the security guards had made a kind of barrier, leaving the men out and the women in. You both looked towards Jungkook who was beside Kyle, looking at you with a smug smile on his face as he shoved his hands into his pants pockets. You can't help but smile.
"I told you." You turned to your friend who looked nothing less than impressed.
"He literally pushed every man in this pub away from you, just to let you dance." She laughed. "Yeah, that's pretty cool."
You walked towards him and let him hug you by the waist.
"Do I need to do anything else to prove how important you and your happiness are to me?" You looked around, biting your lip, trying to think of something. The whole situation, the dancing, the display of power, made you aroused and you could feel that you were wet, so when you saw what you wanted, you turned to him and leaned on his shoulders, bringing your lips to his ear.
"I want you to fuck me on those tables over there." You said pointing to the darkest corner of the pub, where literally no one was sitting, as they were more interested in dancing and getting high than sitting. Jeon let out a groan and tightened his hands on your waist, starting to push you towards the tables, he never backed down on a challenge and was always willing to fuck anywhere you were comfortable with.
Minutes later, you were at one of those tables both in the dark. You were kneeling on the floor under the table. He had his pants open and his cock was in your hand. You moved your soft hand over him as your mouth sucked on the top, making Jungkook grunt and grab your hair, moving your head according to the pleasure he was feeling. And with every movement you made with your tongue, he pushed your head harder until you swallowed his whole dick, being able to feel the bottom of your throat, moving his hips against your mouth, fucking your throat until you are out of breath and patting his thigh, making him let go, watching the saliva run from your mouth to the middle of your breasts, making him even harder with that sight.
He cursed - his words were not heard because of the loud music. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a condom. He ripped the package open with his teeth as you stood up and had your back to him. As soon as he put a condom on his cock, he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap,pulled your panties to the side and let him position his cock at the entrance to your dripping pussy. You slowly sat up until you were full of him, your walls getting used to the size he was. You spread your hands across the table, slowly moving your hips back and forth. Jungkook threw his head back, hitting the club wall, cursing as you slowly rolled on his lap, lust taking over his body, totally at your mercy. He used to be the dominator in bed, but he would never lie about the fact that if you asked, he'd drop to his knees for you, his princess. He got so weak when you moved like that.  He cupped your waist, pressing his fingers into your skin, in an almost silent request for you to move faster, and you did, riding his cock with ease.
And between moans and curses your chest was against the table, Jungkook was standing behind you, one hand resting on your back while the other held your waist, hitting hard from behind. His grunts and groans of pleasure were totally masked by the electronic music that was now blaring from the speakers. No one there had noticed the madness they were committing, and if they did, no one cared. His cock hitting the right place, making you roll your eyes and grab the edge of the table while you bit your own lips, feeling your pussy tighten around him, your core so hot and so tight, it hurt.
"Fuck." You grunted as you felt orgasm reaching your body, as he increased the force of the blows, now pulling your arms, making you stand, your ass lifted against his hip, one of his arms hugging your waist, while with the other hand he grabbed your throat. He bit down on your shoulder, sucking on your skin as he slammed his cock against your pussy. “Fucking hell, fuck.” He hissed as he came. His cum filling the condom and he in the midst of his delirium of pleasure, he wished he was filling your pussy with his cum, imagining how pleasurable it would be to see his cum running down your legs after he filled you.
He collapsed sitting on the seat, taking the condom off his dick and zipping his pants while you adjusted the dress and hair. He pulled you onto his lap, sitting you sideways on his thighs and hugging you, letting you lay your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and resting.
"We should go home." He whispered to you, who just nodded, too tired to speak. He then got up with you on his lap, carrying you out of the club, and to the car, where Kyle took them to your apartment.
And for the first time, Jungkook slept with you in your bed.
all rights reserved © katebacks | 2018/2022 — no reposting and/or modifying of any form on any medium is allowed. no translations allowed.
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kinktae · 4 months
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most undesirable || (M)
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Spring has sprung and engagement is on the forefront of all of Regency London's young ladies' minds. All except for yours, of course– the Queen's niece who a certain notorious author has named the Ton's most undesirable.
pairing: lord!jungkook x lady!reader
word count: 5k
genre: BRIDGERTON AU, regency era, angst, eventual smut
warnings: cocaine usage (not oc or jk), oc has dead parents
A/N: this fic was commissioned by the lovely Baby. As per her request, it features me and our beloved izzy! please do let me know if you would like a part two, i have big plans for whats to come next ;)
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PART ONE **UNEDITED**
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A word of profanity left your painted lips as the outsoles of your lace-up boots danced across the limestone floor of the palace, making haste but not in a manner that was unbecoming, your head held high despite your mood running low.
You reached the door of Her Majesty's room with purpose, hands fiddling with the satin of your dress to make sure it covered your shoes. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate the influx of garments your dear aunt had gifted you upon your arrival. Still, the heels Her Majesty had deemed in style this season were particularly uncomfortable. She would no doubt grow sour to see you parading in countryside shoes in her home.
"Your highness." One of the oldest guards snickered, his eyes flicking towards you knowingly as he and another guard moved to open the grand doors to their Queen's private quarters.
You crunched your nose, "Shh." 
Of course, the guards had already read the paper… Rotten gossips.
Willing a smile onto your face, you were let into the room. Your aunt sat at her sofa, the furniture floral in design, its fabric dyed a luxurious red. Between her hands were the source of your dismay, the newest Lady Whistledown papers fresh off the press. 
You hadn't had the pleasure of reading this week's issue personally, but word traveled outrageously fast in the palace; both maids and guards suckers for a good scandal. You knew quite intimately the matter of its content as you were the matter of its content.
"Ah. Niece. There you are.” The Queen called you over, setting the paper down beside her unceremoniously.
You walked closer stiffly, "Aunt Charlotte, you wished to speak to me?"
"You know I adore you, don't you? You're like a breath of fresh air in this miserably dull palace."
Your once tense shoulders relaxed instantly, taking comfort in knowing she hadn't called you in for a scolding.
"It is you that lights up every room you enter, your Majesty." You bowed your head slightly, knowing well that flattery was your best line of defense should the tides change against you. 
"I do, don't I?" She agreed with a grin, before it fell off her face suddenly. "Sorry– whatever were we talking about?"
"Um–"
"Ah, yes! Well, there's no point mincing words. I'm sure you've seen it by now. I mean, can you believe it? That sorrowful sow Whistledown attempting to soil the reputation of my bloodline with such a frivolous title as… as…" She snapped her fingers, forgetting the word she was looking for.
The sound echoed throughout her enormous chambers, currently barren as your aunt was in the process of renovating.
"Ice Princess." You reminded her quietly. She tutted her tongue in recognition.
"How tactless, how tasteless! It is me who sets reputations. Not her. No, no, this simply won't do."
You watched in silence as she pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Remind me, darling. Why weren't you at the Danbury Ball?"
You shifted, thinking back on the excuse you had given her, "I was… ill."
It was a lie, of course. You had been feeling quite well actually when notice of the ball came 'round. But could anyone fault you? Ballrooms and gowns weren't exactly your area of expertise.
Growing up, your mother and your aunt couldn't be more different; you often heard stories of the two sisters butting heads from your grandfather. One sister went on to marry the king of England, the other a humble traveling merchant. One stood throne in England; the other lived simply in France's countryside. Despite their differences, it was no secret that your aunt loved her older sister dearly, writing to her often in hopes of convincing her to come move to England. When she learned that your mother was with child, she even went as far as to purchase land for her sister and soon to be niece.
But your mother was every bit as stubborn as she was kind. She loved her husband and the life she had built with him, staying by his side until she passed last year. Your poor father was grief-stricken; by eight months, the stress on his heart had become too much, dying nearly a year after your mother.
It was your aunt who had reached out first, offering her deepest condolences and, far more noticeably, all the money you could ever need and your very own suite in the palace.
You weren't exactly sure why you had agreed to such a lucrative proposal. You, much like your mother, adored the countryside and the small town you grew up in. And perhaps that was why you agreed, not to move in, but instead to visit. She was family, after all, something you didn't have very much of left, though you have since come to know of a cousin Friedrich, recently married to an Edwina Sharma that your aunt raved on and on about.
In the week you had been here, you had come to know far more about British aristocracy than you ever wished to know, entirely out of your element amidst the corsets and personal maids. Only recently had you managed to lower your number of attending maids to two, a far cry from the original seven you were greeted with.
You did your best to fit in, but you were no fool. You knew nothing of soireés– or how to dance for that matter, so the moment your aunt spoke of a ball, you knew you had to conjure up some excuse as to why you woefully must decline.
"Exactly! For heaven's sake, you were ill. How dare Whistledown suggest otherwise." She gestured at the staff in the room as though they were her audience.
The sound of the Queen's chamber doors being thrown stole the attention of everyone in the room. Unsurprising to you, two young maids barreling in, tripping on each other.
"S-Sorry, Your Majesty!" The blonde stuttered out.
The brunette nodded in agreement, "Our apologies, Your Majesty. We didn't know where her highness had gone–"
"–We came running as soon as we realized she had snuck off."
Isabella and Roselia. Of course. Your two personal maids. You had only just managed to shake them from your trail when you heard the news that the Queen had sent for you. You should have figured they'd inevitably catch up with you.
They were pleasant enough company, the duo were quite funny, actually, but the constant shadowing was something you learned you rather detested. You understood they were under strict orders by the Queen to ensure your every need was attended to but still… surely even nobility understood the concept of wanting to have a moment alone?
"Oh— Are we interrupting something?" Roselia's cheeks went pink, eyes running over the room as she took note of the Queen's pursed mouth. "We'll just… we can wait outside actually."
"Outside, right! We'll be just outside." Isabella chimed in, heading bowing as the brunette maid yanked her back and out of the room.
"Sorry for the intrusion!"
You stifled a snicker, watching as the young maids slipped back out of the Queen's chambers, shutting the grand doors as they went. Your aunt merely rolled her eyes at the bumbling maids.
Suddenly, her Majesty sniffed, and it was as if a switch had been flipped. All her maids ran towards her, offering handkerchiefs as if their life depended on it. You nearly laughed at such a ridiculous display of servitude, but seeing as you had spent well over a week in the palace, you had become accustomed to such theatrics.
"Whistledown is right about one thing, you know." Queen Charlotte said as her nose was blotted at. "Everyone needs to meet you. And meet you they shall."
In surprise, you pulled your eyes from the doting maids, "They shall?"
"Certainly. We shall have a ball. Here in the palace, of course."
You felt your stomach plummet into your leather-bound boots, your aunt's words echoing.
"All of London's marriage-minded ladies and lords are to be invited. We'll show Whistledown just how splendid you are. Oh! How glorious if you were to find a suitor! That certainly would put to rest that frozen title once and for all."
Just faintly, you could make out the sound of white noise buzzing, mixing with the words the Queen spoke. Anxiety flooded you, deafening your brain's attempts to self-soothe and rationalize that this wasn't the catastrophe you felt it was.
"Aunt Charlotte," you tried to swallow, but your mouth felt stripped of all moisture, "I… I'm not sure if that is wise–"
But it was as if she hadn't heard you, rambling on as if you hadn't objected, "I'll be arranging for etiquette and dance lessons since my beloved sister undoubtedly failed to do the same for you. Are you free this afternoon, darling?"
You stood for a moment, no doubt looking foolish as you struggled to get your words out, "I… I suppose I am…"
"Dear, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Are you feeling well?" The Queen cocked her head at you, eyes sizing you up with concern.
"I… I am not feeling my best." You admitted.
"That's the second time now. Growing up in the countryside— all that sun and dirt— it's made you weak of constitution. Hm. Very well. We'll wait until you're feeling better. In the meantime, I will begin planning!"
You averted your eyes politely as she bent over suddenly, inhaling a white powder off her tea tray through a nostril. She sat up with an exhale, eyes fluttering open with a smile.
"Oh, how I love having you come to stay in the palace for a change. I'm terribly bored these days, you know." She sighed. "Did you care to assist me with planning?"
Despite how you felt seconds from unearthing your already digested lunch, you managed an apologetic smile, "I'm not sure I'd be of much help. I'm afraid I've never hosted a party before."
"Yes, my dearly departed sister never cared much for such things, did she? Such a shame she raised you out of the aristocracy." She said.
A furrow found your brow.
"You're wrong, you know." You disagreed before you could think to hold your tongue. And just like that you had become a magnet, all eyes in the room snapping towards your frame.
"Oh? About?" The Queen offered you a pointed look.
"About the way I was raised. I wouldn't change a thing about it. My mother didn't fail me… she loved me. I had a mother and father who loved me. That was worth more to me than any new dress could ever." You said, gesturing to the gifted garment you adorned today, with perhaps a touch more spite than you should've.
Of two things those in the palace knew to be true. One— Her Majesty was not wrong. Ever. Her opinion was the first to seek and the only to matter. Anyone was someone because she said so, whether explicitly or subtly.
And two— her love for her niece ran deeper than even she anticipated, as watching you stand before her defiantly didn't fill her with rage as the staff in the room assumed, but rather with melancholy. 
You looked like your mother just then. It seemed you reminded her of her sister more and more as the days rolled by.
"Your mother would be pleased to hear that." She merely replied, wondering if her sister might be looking down on you both at this moment. At her words, your entire demeanor softened.
"Very well. Off you go." Your Queen sniffed, a handkerchief at her nose within seconds.
Bowing, you moved to exit the room.
"And niece," she called one last time, causing you to turn around, "must you wear such unsightly footwear under your dress?"
You felt your face grow hot, muttering a quiet apology before exiting the room altogether.
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"Chin up, darling." Your aunt reminded you.
You followed her instructions coolly, hoping you didn't look nearly as nervous as you felt.
It was undoubtedly a soirée for the books; every square inch of the ballroom was gilded in gold, the chandeliers' gleam diffusing luxuriously as it bounced around the room.
Eligible men and women of all shapes and sizes had come from far and wide, donned in their absolute best; every possible hue of pink, blue and purple on display for Her Majesty. The ballroom looked akin to the royal grounds, you thought; the cool-toned dresses reminding you of upside-down bellflowers, floating across the marble floor in a synchronized dance.
Flocks of the most noticeable families and town figures had swarmed their way to the royal estate, drowning themselves in champagne as corseted woman fluttered their eyes at the Ton's lords.
But despite their poised smiles, neither woman nor man spared you more than a cautious glance and courteous bow. As the hours ticked by, you couldn't help but feel increasingly uneasy. Was it fear of Her Majesty sitting beside you that kept them away from you? Or was it the less than auspicious picture a certain faceless author had painted for them about you?
"It's rather hot in here, wouldn't you say?" The Queen spoke to you suddenly, looking larger than life from her magnificent throne.
"I suppose." You agreed absentmindedly, far too occupied with how a group of ladies' eyes flickered your way.
She continued, "Perhaps some champagne will cool you down. Why don't you fetch yourself a glass, dear?"
The meaning behind her words was clear. Go. Socialize.
"A splendid idea." You concurred.
Granting yourself one final shaky breath, you straightened up, walking towards the table where drinks were being freshly poured.
"What shall it be, my lady?" A servant greeted you politely as you reached it.
"A glass of champagne, please." You smiled, grateful for a friendly face, perhaps the first of the night.
The servant nodded, moving to open a new bottle.
"She doesn't even hold a title, you know. That Ice Princess."
You blinked, growing still as your ears caught wind of a conversation between party goers not far from you.
"But she's the Queen's niece?"
A sinking feeling washed over you, the kind that made all the other noise in the room disappear. You flirted briefly with abandoning your spot in the room altogether, but the bubbling pour of golden liquid into a glass kept you still. You thanked the servant with a halfhearted smile.
Bringing the glass to your mouth, you turned an ear to the three gossiping ladies, careful to avoid their gaze.
"Word has it her mother married out of the aristocracy." One of them babbled, pulling noises of disbelief from the others.
"Pity. Though, I suppose that explains the appalling way she walks in heels. You'd think she grew hooves from all that time she spent in the countryside." Another prattled. Stifled giggles rang around the group like they were all in some sort of secret, one that wasn't theirs to know. "Can you believe she thinks herself better than us?"
"One more glass, if you please." You asked the same servant, quickly making your way back to the Queen, now with a glass in either hand.
You approached her wordlessly, merely offering her a glass.
"Ah." She accepted the drink eagerly, and for a moment, there was silence, the two family members enjoying the cool velvety acidity of what was no doubt costly champagne.
"It appears the Ton thinks poorly of me." You blurted out.
You felt rather foolish telling this to your aunt. It wasn't as if you really cared what three cankerous aristocrats thought of you. But who else were you to tell? You knew no one.
Your Aunt Charlotte furrowed her delicately painted brow, "Darling, it'll do you well to realize that this Ton doesn't think. They merely reiterate what they've been told. They don't know you. Never mind what they think they know."
But her words went in one ear and out the other, merely background noise to the way you suddenly felt all eyes on you.
And suddenly, your dress was too tight, the ballroom too small. You felt your breath grow shallow, a sure sign of panic. How may others deemed you the subject of gossip tonight? What else were they saying about you?
"I think I should step out for a moment." You muttered.
"Take your maids with you!"
You were halfway across the room before you could even think to register your aunt's reply. Blinking away your tears, you pushed yourself through the crowd, muttering absentminded apologies as partygoers scoffed in protest.
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How small you felt sitting alone in the palace's rose gardens. You wept on a stone bench, wishing ever so badly that your mother was here, looking back with sorrow at how she used to pull you into her lap whenever you were upset. How she used to wrap her arms around you, and everything seemed better, if even for a moment.
How you missed her. How you missed your father. How you missed your life away from this shining, hollow palace.
But they were gone, and the simple life that awaited you back home was gone. Aunt Charlotte was all the family you had left. Without your parents, your home was gone.
"Oh! My lady… forgive me!"
A soft voice caused you to gasp, turning to face the man that had walked in on your self wallowing.
You were up on your feet in seconds, wiping away at your face. 
"No… no, it is I who should apologize! I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Your cheeks burned.
"See you like what?" The mysterious raven-haired stranger pressed, a note of cheekiness to his tone. "Human? Heaven forbid."
You laughed gently, sniffling away your shame. You knew at once he was no threat to you.
The young lord wasn't exactly sure what had led him to the palace gardens; most of the event seemed to be taking place indoors as the night nipped and chilled unforgivingly. Still, a few stray bodies mingled underneath the string of lights that the palace servants had strung up. He had briefly greeted them, passing through the clouds of cigar smoke and small talk before bounding down limestone stairs.
He had tucked his hands into his pants pockets, sighing as the night's festivities grew quieter the further he slipped away, the crunch of wet grass kissing the underneath of his dress shoes. His mind was heavy with thoughts, hardly noticing where his legs had taken him.
It was the sound of your cries that pulled him from his thoughts and jerked him back to his senses.
He was in the Queen's rose garden; he immediately recognized the vibrant flowers and tall bushes. What he failed to recognize, however, was the weeping girl sitting on a stone bench, a look of embarrassment written plainly on her pretty face as she realized she was not alone.
He was quite handsome, you noticed despite your humiliation. He was younger than most of the lords inside, his face still featuring a certain softness despite his sharp features. His gaze was inherently kind, his warm brown eyes all but beckoning you to lower your guards.
"Lord Jeon.” He introduced himself with a bow, eyes never leaving yours. "Forgive me if I frightened you, my lady. I shall return at once and grant you your privacy."
You sank back down onto the bench, pulling the shawl wrapped around your shoulders closer. Your dress was beautiful— you were beautiful… puffy eyes, smeared makeup and all. He couldn't imagine why a lady like yourself would be weeping in the rose gardens unattended.
"It's alright. I supposed I'm not the only introvert at this party tonight. The garden is big enough for the two of us."
Lord Jeon shrugged, "A bit of fresh air is good for the soul."
You watched cautiously as he walked closer, sitting beside you on the opposite side of the bench. 
"You know… I've been told I'm a decent listener." He said suddenly, brown eyes admiring the roses surrounding you.
You blinked, "Is that so?"
"Well… not explicitly. But I've got two ears, so I'd say I do alright." He teased.
You smiled softly, contemplating how much to reveal to this stranger.
"It's… I suppose I'm just a bit out of my element here." 
"You?" He seemed surprised, a slight chuckle of disbelief accompanying his question.
"You laughed." You raised a brow.
He bit down on his lower lip as if contemplating his following words.
"Well, it's just… I can't imagine someone like you having trouble at these events." He confessed.
For a moment, you wondered what he could mean. Looking down at your lap, you realized he must be referring to your extraordinarily fanciful garments.
"Ah. These clothes were a gift, and this hair— well, none of this is me. Not really. Truly, I don't know why I came." You sighed. 
He nodded, "Beginning to feel that way myself, actually. Most lose interest when they hear my name. I'm a bit of a nobody, it seems."
"Funny. It would appear you and I have the opposite problem." You nearly laughed.
"Uptown girl, are you?"
"I'm afraid I've got a bit of a reputation. And no one cares to know whether it's true or not." You said.
He let out a sigh.
"Terrible soirée full of terrible people. I can't say that doesn't happen here often."
You let his words hang in the night's cold air, your fingers intertwining themselves across your lap.
"Is that all?"
Your head turned to face him, growing warm to find him already looking at you.
"Forgive me, it's just," he continued, "your sadness… it feels heavier than you're letting on."
He watched as your body language changed, suddenly tense as if you had built your walls back up.
He was back up on his feet within seconds, his shoes coming into view by the bottom of your dress as he stood in front of you.
Swallowing down a sob, you allowed yourself to look up at him.
"May I?" He asked, extending a hand out as if wanting yours.
Hesitantly, you gave it to him, assuming you would be ushered back onto your feet. To your surprise, however, he merely flipped your hand over, your palm now facing the night sky.
Your eyes widened as he took a finger and traced a line onto your palm. 
No. Not A line. A letter.
L-O-V-E-R-? 
He wrote into your palm. You stared at your hand, skin still buzzing faintly from where his finger had run across.
His mother used to do such a thing when he was younger and much angrier, often struggling to say the words when something troubled him. He only hoped it would work for you the way he had for him.
Frowning, you shook your head. He wrote once again.
F-A-M-I-L-Y-?
A tear fell from you as if instinctively. You nodded your head, confirming his suspicions. Spurred on by his touch, you moved to grab his hand, flipping it upside down as he had done to yours.
L-O-N-E-L-Y you wrote.
"… I just wish I had a little bit longer with them." You found yourself saying once you had finished.
"No time is enough when it comes to the people you love." He spoke with heart as if referring to his own personal melancholy.
Another tear fell from your eyes as his thumb ran over your palm, not to spell anything but to offer his condolences.
"No. I suppose not." You sniffed, a shiver running over you as a crisp breeze passed the two of you.
He wrote into your palm again.
C-O-L-D-?
You let out a laugh, shrugging dismissively.
"Here." Lord Jeon suddenly peeled his suit jacket off his shoulders. You froze, stunned silent as he gently draped it over your shoulders, a gentle smile on his face.
Your chest tightened, moved by the gesture of kindness. But before you could think to thank him, his warm fingers were at your palm once more.
F-R-I-E-N-D-?
His smile tugged at your heartstrings. You wondered how anyone inside could possibly look down on him. You didn't need to know his name to see that he was kind, a worthy suitor for any marriage-minded aristocrat.
F-R-I-E-N-D. You wrote back.
Happy was the girl who sat on the cement bench of the palace's rose garden, wrapped up warm under the jacket of the first person to show you genuine, unconditional kindness since arriving weeks ago.
The two strangers sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the quiet of company. Neither of you knew the other, but there was comfort in the silhouettes of the adjacent shadows at your feet, knowing that neither had ill intent towards the other.
"Do you ever wonder what it might be like to live in a palace?"
You fell stiff, mute as you turned towards him, watching how he looked over at the illuminated estate. 
"Lonely."
"You think?" He pondered.
"I'm not fond of big empty rooms. They tend to make me feel small." You explained quietly.
"Well, should I ever have a palace, there would be no empty rooms. Every room with music and the sound of children's laughter. I would decree it so."
"Children? And where do you figure you might obtain those?" You chuckled.
"Well, they'd be mine, of course." He grinned lopsidedly.
You grinned back at him. "Then the happiest of children they would be."
You suppose the young lord reminded you somewhat of a child. He was a man by every definition of the word, standing tall and proud, but there was something about the way his large eyes took in the palace that was decidedly childlike. Eyes wide and glimmering with awe.
You watched contently as he suddenly noticed the silver plated container that sat by the leg of the bench; an unopened bottle of champagne sat neatly in a bed of ice, several glasses along side it.
Your dear aunt thought of everything when it came to party planning, you were coming to find out.
"Shall we?" He smirked suggestively.
"I don't see why not." You laughed.
The two of you giggled as he attempted to open the bottle, champagne spilling everywhere. He tried to pour you a glass neatly, but your new friend had no future in bartending, champagne spilling over the glass' edge and onto your fingers.
Sticky but smiling, you brought your glass up, mirroring him.
"A toast." He decided, his own glass now only half full from his carelessness.
"To?" You questioned.
He contemplated for a moment, meeting your inquisitive eyes innocently. A boyish smile broke out across his face.
"To us, of course. Tonight's most undesirables." He declared, making you chuckle.
But before you could touch glasses…
"Your highness!"
Your eyes went wide, your stomach dropping as a certain blond maid came scrambling into the garden.
"Isabella! Please! Just 'my lady' will do." Heat rocketed up your neck, ears no doubt hot to the touch. 
Her hands fell to her knees, clearly out of breath from running around the palace grounds, undoubtedly in search of you.
"My lady, I should advise you to return to the party. Her Majesty the Queen has someone she wants you to meet." She cautioned.
You cursed internally.
"Of course, she does. Give me just a moment then. I'll be over shortly."
The young maid's eyes flickered over to Lord Jeon, cheeks rosy.
"But your highness—"
"Thank you, Isabella." You cut her off curtly. 
The young maid gave you two one more final look over before nodded, pardoning herself with a curtesy.
Hesitantly, you turned back towards Lord Jeon, unsure what to make of the look of disbelief clearly written across his face.
Awkwardly, you brought your glass to your mouth, taking a cautious sip.
"Your highness? You're a princess?" He gawked, eyes still wide. 
"No!" You quipped. "Not… technically?"
The young lord merely blinked at you, his doe eyes telling you everything his mouth wasn't.
You were rambling before you could help yourself.
"M-My mother is the Queen's sister. Technically speaking, she held the title of 'Princess.' Though, I suppose if my mother were born a man then, yes, that would make me a princess— titles are patriarchal in nature, it's all… very complicated, really…" 
You felt like you couldn't take in a deep enough breath, the chilly air now burning your lungs.
"So… not a princess. Just… daughter of a princess." He reiterated, clearly stunned.
You felt a frown form on your face, all your etiquette instructor's reminders of poise and manners slipping from your mind.
"I am the Queen's niece. We shall leave it at that."
The handsome lord had the most fascinated look on his face, eyes locked on the way your jaw twitched, mouth shut rigidly to hold back the slew of word vomit you instinctively felt compelled to let out.
The way he held your eyes – the intensity behind his dark orbs – made you uneasy yet engrossed you all the same.
You bit down on the side of your cheek, "Are you upset that I didn't tell you?"
He shook his head suddenly as if trying to shake off his shock.
"No. I'm not."
"Are you… disappointed?" You grimaced.
You hadn't the faintest clue as to what was running around in his handsome head.
"Disappointed?" He cocked his head.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what the hell you're thinking right now, and it's frankly unnerving." You frowned.
The raven-haired man let out a noise that toed the line between amusement and disbelief. 
"I think you owe me a toast… your highness." He teased.
Rolling your eyes, you failed to fight back a smile, bringing your champagne glass up to meet his, his smirk assuring you that whoever your aunt wished you to meet could wait a moment or two. 
3K notes · View notes
aajjks · 2 months
Text
Crush (JJK)
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synopsis. He hated you, crushingly.
pairing: secret soft yandere simp!jungkook x barista!reader. ft. jaehyun loml
warnings: degrading words, softer yandere, simp behaviour 101, yandere, obsessive thoughts, HES such a diva imo, content warning yandere.
note. idk what the fuck I just wrote 😭 he’s such a simp I just nshshshhsbsb. I’m in love with jungkook it’s pathetic. thanks for reading! :dd ps my bday is in two days wohooo
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Jungkook despised your guts.
You made his skin crawl, his blood pressure rise as soon as he sees your figure walking in the campus, he hates how his heart is racing like some teenager idiot.
He can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from you.
You are so infuriating every single time he sees you, it makes his brain shut down, his heartbeat becomes abnormally fast and his body itches with longing.
Fucking bitch, he chews on his lower lip, barely paying attention to whatever Jaehyun is talking about, rocking his feet back n forth to calm himself.
He wants you so bad. Jungkook realised that a long time ago, he wants you.
He doesn’t want to, he hates you.
But, “bro, stop gawking at her.” He blinks twice at Jaehyun’s tone, finally looking away from your figure.
Jungkook turns his body to the side, now looking at his best friend who gives him a look of disappointment.
“Do you see her laughing with that dumb blonde bitch? What’s so damn funny!” Jungkook gritted his teeth, “what a whore.” He inhaled a breath.
God, he was desperate.
Jaehyun cocked a brow at Jungkook’s cruel remarks about you, “aw look at you and your words… the look in your eyes doesn’t really suit your words”
Jungkook knows.
Jaehyun sighs, “Jungkook, you are in love with Y/N.”
The tattooed man gasped. “What the fuck, hell no!”
Jungkook was not in love with you, he just obsessively hated you, “she’s a loser, fuckin loser.” He hissed, in his defence while his friend only clicked his tongue.
“I HATE HER.”
“Sure.”
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Jungkook was not a stalker.
He was just…. Making sure of a few things,
He fixed his cap and tilted his body so you couldn’t see him, but he could see you,
All clearly.
“Umm Jungkook? Is that you?”
Fuck.
He quickly averted his gaze down to the floor, your footsteps approaching him, Jungkook wanted to run.
“Oh my gosh! Hi!” Your voice filled his ears, his body wasn’t reacting, how could be so dumb. “H-Hi loser.”
He gulped and finally made eye contact with you.
oh, you and your stupid pretty face.
Those eyes of yours annoyed him the most, so damn attractive it made his mind dizzy. “I didn’t know you liked the coffee here?” You laughed at his nickname for you.
He felt his cheeks get hot.
“So? What can I get you?” You looked at him with your eyes, he was getting nervous.
Damn your eyes.
“Ummm…. Whatever you like.”
Before Jungkook could stop his mouth, the words already came out.
“You mean, from my preferences?”
“S-Sure!”
He watched as you nodded with a cute expression on your face. He could feel his heart melt into a poodle.
ew.
“And…. WAIT Y/N…” he stood up before you could leave.
“Yeah?”
“Bring two. And have it with me. Keep me company…. Y-Your shift is almost over, isn’t it?”
“I-I need to tell you something…” he continued, wanting to look at you longer, his heartbeat rising.
I love you.
“Okay, give me a few minutes then.”
2K notes · View notes
archivedkookie · 19 days
Text
runaway : the offer — jjk [m]
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⇢ SUMMARY ; When your best friend’s brother, your first-ever crush, offers to help with your sexual fantasies with a trade of nights of lust, you can’t say no—especially to someone as irresistible as Jeon Jungkook.
⇢ PAIRING ; tattoo artist / biker!jk x reader, best friend’s brother au | wattpad ao3
⇢ GENRE ; fwb (they’re not rlly friends tho), age gap (4 years), smut, angst, fluff, slow burn(?), best friend’s brother au
⇢ RATING ; 18+
⇢ WARNINGS ; oc daydreams a lot & loves music, jungkook is a former fuckboy, oc judges people a lot, minor blood, taehyung has tattoos & piercings, tattoo artist jk (yup….has to be a warning), jk has piercings and wears rings + chains (omg dhjfcehfg), jk and aera kinda hate each other, mention of blood (brief), pay attention to some details btw…..it helps hehe, jk is v open about sex, reader has kinda bad experiences :(, jk calls reader kitty :3 [ i find it cute dgjshsgd ], light corruption kink (if u squint), jungkook is a TEASE, kissing !!, not much smut in this one, just kissing :3
⇢ WC ; 9.5k
⇢ NOTE ; this series wasn’t supposed to happen at all jhdwghf, i’ve been thinking about doing something like this for some time, and well, here it is! I thought i’f take some time off making a series but here i am *sigh*.... very excited for this one, though !! i do advise you all to pay attention to details ……👀 anyways let’s get this bread !
⇢ BANNER CREDS ; i 
⇠ prev. \ next ⇢
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SERIES MASTERLIST · MAIN MASTERLIST · TAGLIST · PLAYLIST
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“Are we still on about tonight?” Someone asks, and you don’t hear it, continuing to blast the arctic monkeys on your earphones as you scroll mindlessly through your phone while debating with yourself if you should or not do your homework which is due tomorrow.
You hear a faint huff before a pair of hands brutally shake your body, and you jump in your seat while turning your head to see your best friend in front of you with an annoyed face.
“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” You pant, putting your hand on your chest as you try to calm your erratic heartbeat, and Aera rolls her eyes. “You need to stop scaring me; one of these days, I will have a heart attack and die because of your annoying ass!” You point your finger at Aera while sitting back on the wooden bench, and Aera can only snort in response.
“I won’t stop; it’s funny,” She shrugs, and you scoff, “You wouldn’t get scared if you for once stopped blasting your songs on maximum, and staying in dreamland, just saying.”
“Fuck you.” You cross your arms, and she laughs, knowing you don’t have a comeback for her. The worst part is, you know she’s right, but you won’t stop; daydreaming and music are the only things getting you out of the massive amount of work college demands from you.
“Anyways, as I was saying, we are still on about tonight, right?” She asks, and you smirk, a spark of an idea lighting up on top of your head to get ‘revenge’ for what she just did to you.
“What’s tonight?” You ask with a confused face, doing your best to hide your growing smirk, and Aera gasps loudly.
You know perfectly what will happen tonight—your monthly sleepover and movie night, which has been going on since you were both eight years old. Tonight’s more special than any other traditional movie night because Aera will introduce you to her new boyfriend, who she insisted on keeping a secret from you for months.
Aera doesn’t have the best reputation regarding boyfriends—she mostly fucks men and pushes them away after a week of fooling around, and you must say that you’re incredibly curious to know who tamed the beast that is Jeon Aera. She claims this man is the one for her, and she has been talking about tonight’s movie night for almost two weeks.
“Are you fucking serious, ____?! Are you actually—”
You can’t help yourself anymore, and you start laughing once you see her distorted, angry face, your throat letting out dry coughs as you try to calm down.
“I’m sorry, it was a joke,” You giggle, “Your face is just too funny when you’re angry.” Aera’s tongue goes to the inside of her cheek, creating a bulge, as she stares intensely at you as you try to stop your laughter by slapping your hand on your mouth.
“You’re not funny, ____.” Aera crosses her arms on her chest and turns to look at the campus, and you chuckle at her antics.
“Whatever you say.” You smile when you see the slight tug upward on the corner of Aera’s lips, “Anyway, yes, I am going over to your house tonight. Did you really think I would forget?”
“With the way you literally forget everything, I wouldn’t put it past you.” Your mouth drops at her sentence, and you scoff, utterly offended by it, but you know she’s right.
“Bitch.”
“Slut.”
You both stay quiet for a few seconds before entering a fit of laughter simultaneously and only stop after minutes later, both of you trying to retain your breathing at its regular rate.
“I don’t know why you kept him a secret…..I’m your best friend, and I must say that I got a bit offended.”
Aera rolls her eyes, “I didn’t want you to spoil him for me with your judging eyes before I could even get to know him. Like, you know, every other partner I ever had.”
“As if you’re any better,” You snort, “You’re worse than me, Aera. You literally throw ugly gazes at anyone who breathes—do you remember Hajoon?”
Aera physically gags when you say your high school ex-boyfriend’s name, which only lasted one month due to Aera’s infinite judgement and repulsiveness over him.
“I wasn’t wrong about him, though, now was I? I told you since the moment you introduced him to me that he was a scumbag, didn’t I?”
You sigh in defeat. Aera kept telling you he wasn’t good for you, and it turned out she was right—after taking your virginity, quite a bad experience, you might add, he dumped you for no reason at all.
It was evident he wasn’t good for you, though; only you were blind and ‘in love’ to notice how he treated you. Throughout your whole relationship, you were the one who put in the effort, you were the one who gave your all, and in return, he gave you nothing and even gave you a bad first time.
Ever since then, you’ve told yourself fuck love and committed yourself to nothing but your studies. Relationships are not forever, but having yourself sure is.
“Whatever.” You mumble, and your best friend chuckles.
“My judgement compass never fails, ____; get that inside your head, girl.” You roll your eyes.
“By the way,” Aera starts, and you hum, urging her to continue her sentence, “My annoying brother told me he’ll be entering the apartment tonight, so I’m telling you now that you don’t get startled when you see him walking around the apartment.”
Ah, yes, Aera’s ‘annoying’ brother, as she calls him. None other than Jeon Jungkook.
Your first ever long-time crush.
You’re not a person to have crushes; ever since you were a teenager, exploring boys and ‘romance’, you never found anyone interesting enough to keep liking them as more than platonic, always getting some sort of ‘ick’ before getting to second base, and that still applies today—but the only exception was Jeon Jungkook, your best friend’s older brother.
You don’t know why, but he has been one of the only men that has ever caught your attention for more than one week and the only person that kept you pining for years, not weeks, not months, years.
You were never in love with him; it was only a minor girl crush that had you all hot and bothered whenever he was around you, and you never failed to stutter, a first-time thing for you.
Maybe it was because he was the first ever boy that was nice to you, perhaps because you knew you and he was a possibility only inside your mind, or maybe it was his oh-so-irresistible charms and looks—whatever it was, it had your head over heels for him for too many years.
He was a flame, and you were a moth, drawn to the incinerated fire that was Jungkook.
Of course, Aera knew about it and loved teasing you whenever possible. Whenever Jungkook was around, she would continually lift her eyebrows in a knowing manner and asking him things such as, ‘isn’t ____ gorgeous today?’, embarrassing you to the point where your cheeks were tomato-like red.
Jungkook never paid mind to you, though. A few teasing comments here and there, but you never saw him for more than one day, for he was always busy with work or shoving his tongue inside another woman’s mouth.
Jungkook was a certified ‘fuckboy’, as many would call him, just like his sister. He never committed to anyone for more than one week, and whenever a romantic commitment knocked on his door, he immediately ran away and locked the door. The only person you’ve ever seen committed to was when you were sixteen, and he was twenty years old; her name was Minji, but you’ve only seen her once, when he brought her to Jeon's family dinner.
After that one dinner, you never saw her again, and Jungkook stopped his ‘fuckboy’ tendencies for unknown reasons. and started to focus on his work, which to this day, you don’t know what it is. Aera was the one who continued Jungkook’s ‘fuckboyness’ and became a ‘fuckgirl’ as you two would joke.
“Hasn’t he been living alone for ages, though?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowed, and Aera groans, rolling her eyes as you continue to talk about her brother.
“Yeah, but he told me he needs some things from his room or whatever.” Aera huffs, “He really has the audacity to appear right when mom and dad aren’t home and the most important fucking day! He’s such an asshole, ugh.”
“Can’t you ask him to go another day, though?” You ask, and Aera groans once again.
“I did, but that bastard said he can’t. I know he says this shit just to annoy me, and ugh, I hate his ass so much. Like, out of all the fucking days he could have gone!” Aera does harsh gestures with her hands, something she always does when talking about something, or rather someone, that frustrates and brings her anger.
“He’s not that evil, Aera; you talk about him as if he were a Disney villain.” You snort, and Aera scoffs, offended by your defence over her brother.
“Of course, you would say that.” Aera says accusingly, and you move back, looking at her with amusement, “He’s not your annoying brother; you gotta stop idealising him because of your stupid crush and see him for what he really is—an egoistic, evil, fucking—”
“Damn, okay! I get it; he’s an asshole!” You move your hands up in defence, “And hey, that crush died out years ago, okay? I already told you that.”
“Whatever you say,” Aera mumbles, and you roll your eyes, starting to pack all your belongings inside your backpack. “Where are you going?”
“Um….home? I gotta go take a nap before I can head to your house.”
“Oh, alright.” Aera hums, “Say hi to that crazy bitch Soyeon for me.”
You nod your head, “Will do. Although I don’t know if she’s home right now.” You giggle, thinking of all the antics Soyeon might be doing right now.
Your apartment roommate, Soyeon, is one of the funniest, craziest people you have ever met, even more than your best friend, something you didn’t think was possible until you met the crazy person that is Soyeon.
You found her on the internet two years ago when you were searching for apartments to share, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t at least a bit sceptical of her when you first met.
You saw her tattoos and leather jacket, the way she constantly smokes the same grape juice vape, and you weren’t too fond of it all. You examined her from head to toe, reaching your own conclusions based on how she looked, and you were almost turning one-eighty degrees and leaving the house.
It’s one of your biggest flaws, really; you’re a bit too judgemental and too curious for your own good. Sticking your nose on people’s business and reaching your own conclusions is what sometimes leads to your demise. Still, ever since your first encounter with Soyeon, waters of realisation were splashed onto your face, and you promised yourself that you would try to better yourself, try and not take conclusions for yourself based on people’s appearance or even actions.
Keyword is try, for your judging tendencies sometimes come without you even realising.
Soyeon is four years older than you, and you think of her as somewhat of a big sister, a crazy one, that is. Partying with her is like anything you’ve ever seen, and all the conflicts she puts herself through sure have you entertained while you’re studying or just relaxing inside your shared apartment.
Once, while you were studying for mid-terms, she threw a grey goose vodka bottle at a man that stood outside the apartment and almost got put out of the apartment by the landlord the next day when he heard the news. And she never fails to entertain you with gossip about her co-workers at the tattoo parlour she works in—you love hearing about “Mr J” and all the others, even though you have no idea who they are.
She’s definitely crazy, but you love her a lot, and it’s not easy to get into your inner circle, you would say. Mainly because not many people show much interest in you, they would instead come up to Soyeon or Aera, but you’ve never complained—you like keeping your friends in a small number.
“Anyway, I’ll see you later tonight, Aera.” You smile, and you both lean in for a tight yet short hug. Bidding your final goodbyes, you both head your own ways and walk through the streets of Seoul that lead to your shared apartment.
As you walk, you receive a text from Soeyon that has you stopping on the road to furrow your eyebrows.
crazy roomie : can you come home fast? i broke some stuff, and i need your help.
you : i’m already on the elevator.
You run fast, your shoes producing a cracking sound as you run through the concrete towards your destination. You finally reach your apartment, and with a panting chest, you fumble with your keys and open the door, your eyes finding Soyeon on the ground, wiping the red stain on the ground while trying to get rid of the glass cracks all over the floor.
Your jaw falls to the floor, and Soyeon sighs in relief when she sees you, but you can only stare, paralysed, as you watch the scene in front of you.
“Oh, thank God.” Soyeon stops scrubbing the floor, “Come here, nabi, I need your help with this mess.”
Nabi, meaning butterfly in Korean, is the nickname Soyeon created for you on the second day after you completely moved in, telling you that you look like a butterfly. You don’t get it, but she never says your actual name and insists on calling you nabi, but you like it; it’s cute.
“What happened here?! Soyeon, what the fuck?!” You shout, your backpack falling to the floor as your hands run through your head, and Soyeon only sighs, her body as calm as ever while she stares blankly at you.
“Did you—d-did you m-murder someone?!” You gasp, and Soyeon rolls her eyes, continuing her scrubbing without paying much attention to your quite absurd assumption.
“No, this is just wine, don’t worry; I haven’t murdered anyone.” You sigh in relief and grab your back from the floor, “Yet.” Soyeon mumbles, but you don’t hear it as you close the door behind you so no one sees the scene, as they might think what you thought, and worst case scenario, call the police. And you sure don’t want your mother to come and pull you harshly by the ear if she somehow receives a call from the police about you.
“What the hell even lead to all this mess?!” You ask as you crouch down on the floor right next to Soyeon, your body still in a state of shock as you stare at the mess around you more closely. Your eyes pop out once they see wine on the white wall, and you’re left even more flabbergasted—how the hell did it even get there?
You don’t want to know the answer to that question, you say to yourself.
“Just…..problems. The less you know, the better.” Soyeon says while you start to scrub, and you furrow your eyebrows, your curiosity growing with her vague and quite ominous words.
You don’t know much about Soyeon’s personal life—hell, you don’t know almost anything about Soyeon other than when you’re both inside your apartment or when she drags you to a random party.
Now that you think about it, your roommate is quite a mystery to you. She knows a lot about your family and personal life, and yet….you know close to nothing about Soyeon.
Shivers course through your spine as you continue to scrub, picking out all the glass cracks on the floor so no one steps on it and cuts themselves.
“Are you not going to at least say….something? It’s my apartment too, y’know; I gotta know what happens here.” You say as you pick up a big glass and throw it on the pot beside you, and Soyeon groans loudly, throwing her head back.
“Just my personal problems. Nothing you have to worry about, kay? Don’t ask any more questions.” Soyeon spits, and you almost flinch, shutting your mouth and continuing your work through the awkward silence that now surrounds you and your roommate.
“If you say so.” You don’t want to press on the matter; you’ve never seen Soyeon using such a bitter tone with you; she’s always sweet, a bit loud and always speaking to you with a kind tone. This is certainly new, and it’s pretty scary if you’re being honest.
“Your finger’s bleeding.” You almost gasp, trying to keep your calm in front of Soyeon, and instead of panicking as you would, Soyeon only groans and stands up to walk to the kitchen.
“Soyeon, I don’t have to know what happened, but….” You start, slowing down your hand movements and lifting your head to watch as Soyeon grabs a napkin from the kitchen island. “You’re okay, right? Where’s mocha? Is he okay?”
Soyeon chuckles at your cat's name; you were always a little too protective of him. “I’m fine, nabi, don’t worry about me; I have it all figured out. And Mocha’s fine too; he wasn’t here when it all went down; he’s probably under your bed right now, where he always is.”
You let out a heavy breath and continue to scrub, trying your hardest to remove the wine stain on the floor, and Soyeon quickly puts on a band-aid before returning and cleaning the wines off the white wall while you stay on the ground.
After one hour of hard scrubbing almost the whole living room, it’s finally done and clean. You sigh and jump on your couch, your knees numb from staying in a crouched position for too long and your arms sore from all the non-stop scrubbing.
Your heavy eyes start closing unconsciously, but before your consciousness slips away into dreams, the annoying ringtone of your phone startles you and makes your body jump on the couch.
“Hello?” Your voice comes out raspy, and your palm covers your eyes when you hear your best friend’s name on the other side of the phone.
“_____! Are you coming or not?!”
You groan, squirming as you try to find a more comfortable position, “It’s still five, Aera; can you let me nap for at least two hours? I’m literally exhausted right now.”
“Bitch, it’s six thirty right now! Remember we said seven at my house?!”
You immediately sit up and check your phone for the time, your eyes widening as you see Aera’s right; it’s six thirty on the dot. “Fuck.” You mumble; the scrubbing was so intense that it lasted two fucking hours.
“I’m, uh, I’m on the elevator already, okay? Be there in ten.” You get up from the maroon couch and dash to the kitchen, where you placed your backpack, and Aera cuts the line after a goodbye you didn’t quite hear.
“Soyeon!” You call for her, and she shouts back, “Feed Mocha for me, will you?! I gotta head to Aera’s, as I told you before!”
“Okay, have fun! Be sure to use a condom!” Soyeon screams through the apartment, and you snort, shaking your head as you get all your belongings to get out.
Once you’re done, you return to your previous speed and desperation, “Shit, shit, shit.” You curse as you dash out of the apartment, running down the stairs, not even bothering to wait for the building’s slow elevator. “Fucking Soyeon, I swear to God.”
Thankfully, Aera’s house isn’t too far from where you live, ten minutes, and you’re already in front of the gate, mainly because of your speed running. You enter the gates with ease and head to Aera’s house, and once you’re there, panting and with your lungs almost falling out, you ring the doorbell.
“Finally!” Aera shouts as she runs to the door, and you can hear her faint, slow footsteps, ones you can distinguish from a mile away. Instead of opening the door in one go, Aera peeks only her head outside, wearing a nervous smile on her face as she clears her throat.
“Okay…..um, ____, I want you to meet my boyfriend…..Taehyung.” Aera opens the door all the way until you come face to face with a man, your eyebrows lifting as you look at him up and down, examining all his features and details.
Piercings, he has many of them on both his ears, silver ones, no gold in sight and none on his lips or nose. You take in the features of his face—baby skin, perfectly built lips and siren eyes, ones that you see can lure anyone in with a glance as if chanting an encantation with its looks. He’s beautiful, you must say, more than that even—he is enchanting, in a darker way than any other average person.
He keeps his hands in his pockets—shy, maybe? Surely you wouldn’t think of someone like him that somehow radiates confidence with his intimidating looks, but hey, there is always a possibility.
The man wears ripped black jeans and a plain Nirvana sweater, too. Oh, that definitely catches your eye—he’s a fan?
“Hi.” You say, and he smiles, a box-shaped smile, offering his hand for you to shake.
“Hi, I’m Taehyung; it’s nice to finally meet you.” You clasp your hand with him, and you shake it, skin feeling the cold metal of his silver rings. “Aera never stops talking about you.” Taehyung giggles and you turn your head to look at Aera with raised eyebrows. “She even told me to wear this Nirvana sweatshirt ‘cause you’re a fan.”
Aera widens her eyes and smacks Taehyung’s stomach, and you smirk, “Oh, did she now?” You laugh, and Aera rolls her eyes, a small huff coming out of her mouth.
“You’re not a fan, then?” You ask, and he shakes his head.
“Nah, I only know that one popular song from them. I’m more of a jazz person.”
Both your eyebrows lift, taken aback by his music taste. Could’ve fooled you—he certainly does not look like the kind of guy that enjoys music such as jazz. Taehyung seems to be the one who likes rock, guitar-heavy songs such as Metallica.
“Wow, really?”
“Is it that much of a shock?” Taehyung chuckles and your lips seal, cheeks flushing in embarrassment at your assumptions, placing an image of him, creating a persona for him at only first glance.
What shocks you the most is that, even though you bring yourself to assumptions, they are hardly ever wrong; Soyeon and now Taehyung are the only people you have ever judged wrongly. That’s what got you too confident in your assumptions, and now you’re facing the consequences of your cockiness in your toxic trait.
“Anyways, get in; we already picked a film.” Aera says and pulls you in, “Why don’t you both get to know each other for a bit? I’ll go get the tv prepared.”
And suddenly, you’re alone with Taehyung on the kitchen island, gulping nervously as you try and think of what to say. Socially awkward isn’t enough to describe you—you’re a menace, an actual disaster when it comes to talking to people you don’t know, even more so when you’re expected to start the conversation.
“Uh—um, so er, how did you meet Aera?” You break the ice, lifting your eyes to look into his siren ones, the heavy gaze you felt as you stared at the marble counter gone as your eyes meet his, his hands still in his pockets, comfort replaced by whatever you felt because of your nervousness.
“At a club, she was a one-night stand at first.” You’re not surprised; it was typical for Aera to get entangled with strangers for one night only, for only lust and no strings attached—for the thrill of it, as she would explain to you. You begged her to stop, for her to consider slowing her men preying down because of the dangers of getting STDs, but she only shrugged you off, telling you to stop getting your panties in a twist.
You hum, urging Taehyung to continue as you grab a glass and pour water on it, “And well, after that night, we couldn’t keep our hands to each other and, uh, one thing led to another, and now we’re here.”
You hum, sipping the water from your glass while staring at Taehyung with suspicion in your eyes—it’s time for the big question. “Do you like Aera? Or is this just a ‘passage’ thing? If so—”
“I have no ill intentions with Aera. I like her; I really, really do.”
Love. He didn’t say he loves her, and you remember vividly Aera told you she loves the man before you.
“I….I love him, ____. I really do, and I’m excited for you to meet him.” Aera says with a sparkle in her eyes, and you smile, shaking your head at your best friend. You’re happy for her; she deserves love; you can only hope whoever her boyfriend is treating her like a queen.
“Hm,” You squint your eyes, “Okay, good.” Before you can talk more or question him any further, Aera returns and urges you both to go to the couch as the film is already on TV.
You grab your backpack from the counter and put it in the same place you always do, beside your side of the couch, and you sit on the ‘L’ shaped sofa, lifting your eyes to read ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ written on the TV screen.
“What the hell?! Why are we watching fifty shades?” You ask with a scrunched face, and Aera laughs while she and her boyfriend, Taehyung, sit next to you.
“Dunno, I just felt like it—you know it’s my time to choose, right?”
You groan, passing your hands’ palms through your face, “Alright, fine, whatever.” You roll your eyes, “You and your weird taste.” You mumble under your breath as Aera presses on the remote control, giggling slightly at your frustration.
Thirty minutes pass, and you’re cringing harder than ever, but weirdly enough, quite enjoying the movie while your hand stays on your chin as you pay attention to the TV. You’re too immersed in the film that you don’t hear the small whimpers coming from beside you until a loud cough erupts from your best friend’s throat.
“Are you okay?” You whisper, and Aera nods, awkwardly clearing her throat. “Do you need some water? I can—”
“I’m f-fine; I-I’ll just go upstairs to get some m-meds—be right back.” Aera sprints from the couch, and you’re left dumbfounded, completely taken aback by her sudden weird behaviour and leaving you alone with Taehyung.
“I’ll go check on her, don’t worry.” Taehyung smiles at you before leaving you and following Aera to wherever she went to.
“Weird.” You whisper and turn your head to look at the TV, wrapping yourself on the blanket, looking like a burrito, and getting immersed once again in the movie, forgetting about the whole ordeal with Aera moments before.
Sure, it was strange, but Taehyung has it all sorted out, right?
I’ll ask her about it later; you make a mental note to yourself.
“Fifty shades of grey, hm? Didn’t know you were so freaky.” Someone chuckles from beside you, and you immediately scream, jumping off the couch with your whole body, your soul getting taken away for a moment.
“AHHHH, WHAT THE FUCK?!” You scream your lungs out, staring daggers at the culprit for your near-heart-attack experience, the slight shine of the silver piercing reaching your eyes, and you know who it is; of course, you know who it is. You can recognise those beautiful pairs of lips and piercing anywhere.
Jungkook.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Are you trying to put me in the hospital?!” You curse, not caring you don’t have any sense of intimacy with the man as you continue to scold him for almost sending your soul to the afterlife.
“Sorry, kitty, I just thought I’d sneak up on you.” Jungkook chuckles at your panting figure, a proud smirk on his lips as he watches the success of his plan to startle you.
Kitty, that damn nickname. Jungkook has been calling you the same nickname for years, and even though your interactions may be short, it never fails to flush your cheeks in embarrassment.
You remember the exact day six years ago when he created the nickname as if it were yesterday. As a certified cat lover, you watched kitten videos on Instagram while waiting for Aera in the kitchen, and Jungkook decided that out of the blue, he wanted to tease you, calling you kitty whenever he saw you.
“Hey, kitty, what are you doing?”
“How’s your first day of college-going, kitty?”
“You’re so innocent, Kitty.”
He loves the nickname; Jungkook loves how he makes you flustered; you know he does. Jungkook’s already large ego thrives in seeing you all flustered over one mere nickname; he loves to play with the effect he has on you.
You turn your head to look at him, and you almost bite your lip at sight. Jungkook has always been the most beautiful human you’ve ever laid eyes on; any other man you’ve met, Jungkook put them to humiliation.
With his dark eyes, he allured anyone who caught a faint glimpse of his breathtaking, perfectly sculptured face—he was sin; you, or rather anyone, could see the devil’s smirk inside his dark eyes, ones that could lure anyone into his infinite trap, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t once want to be caught by him.
The leather jacket, piercings, and pouty cherry lips are all enough to drive anyone ravenous—Jungkook’s beauty is picturesque; no detailed painting performed by the best painter in the world on a white canvas can grasp his glamorous looks in his entire, vivid aspect.
Jungkook is beautiful, but he smells like danger, a big warning sign on the top of his head wherever he goes.
You feel it in your bones—everything in you screams to get away from him, that he’s somehow dangerous. Why? You don’t know—or better yet, you don’t want to know.
Ignorance is a bliss, after all.
Examining his face, you come in sight with a beige band-aid on the top of his head, your eyebrows furrowing once you see the light blood that stains the band-aid. “What happened here?” Your motion to your forehead with your fingers, and Jungkook mirrors your actions, asking non-verbally if you are asking about his bruise.
“One of my co-workers accidentally scratched me with her nails.” He chuckles, “But it’s nothing serious. Are you worried about me, kitty?”
You roll your eyes, and Jungkook laughs. Oh, how he loves to tease you, and you fucking hate it.
“Anyway, why are you watching fifty shades in plain sight, kitty? Did you want me to catch you?” Jungkook chuckles, and you wince, gulping the lump that forms in your throat, the movie continuing to play as you stare at it.
You scoff, sounding more like a clearance of your throat, “No, I don’t even like this stupid film. It was obviously Aera and her horrible taste.” You roll your eyes, and Jungkook laughs.
“Of course it was Aera; I knew you wouldn’t pick a movie like this one.”
You pause for a moment, taking in his words inside your mind. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Jungkook laughs, “Oh, you know, kitty. You scream innocence. But hey, maybe I’m wrong. I’ve always seen you as my annoying little’s sister’s best friend, after all.”
“You are wrong, Jungkook. I’m twenty-one, not fifteen!” You scoff, and Jungkook throws his hands in defence, “You should stop seeing me as a little kid.” You roll your eyes in annoyance, something of a sting in your heart when the words linger inside your mind, playing over and over again.
I’ve always seen you as my annoying little’s sister’s best friend.
You were always a little kid inside his mind, weren’t you? It doesn’t hurt, but it does sting a little; you won’t lie to yourself about it. Having your crush of you don’t know how many years tell you that he’s never seen you as more than a little kid sure doesn’t leave a pleasant feeling in your stomach, even if you don’t have any feelings for him anymore.
Your sixteen-year-old self would sure weep her heart out if she were in your position. Or maybe she’d be too busy gawking and daydreaming over him to pay attention to his words; you sure did that a lot when you were a teenager, always hopelessly pining over Jungkook, never genuinely paying attention to the world around you as you got lost in his pretty doe eyes.
“Time sure does fly fast, huh?”
“Mhm.” You nod your head slowly, turning your attention to the movie, and your eyes widen when you realise what part you are in—he’s taking off the woman’s panties.
You blush, scrunching your nose in embarrassment, and when you turn your head slowly to see Jungkook’s reaction, he only has a blank face, unreactive of the sexual scene happening on the TV, unlike you.
“This is too fast, unrealistic, honestly; I bet if this were real life, poor Anastasia would never cum.”
You choke on your spit, “Uh, how the hell do you even know that?”
“Because I’ve made women cum, kitty. Haven’t you?” Jungkook inquired with a lifted eyebrow; the saliva you produce is thick, almost impossible to swallow, while your head becomes heavy with how smoothly he talks about such….stuff.
“Uh—made women cum?” You gulp once again.
“I guess I didn’t make myself clear.” He chuckles with a deeper voice, and your stomach starts to make a knot on itself when you hear how deep his voice can go. “Haven’t you ever orgasmed during sex?”
Your breath hitches and your lungs find it almost impossible to catch the air around you because you know the answer.
Of course you know the answer, and you’re embarrassed by it. Jungkook, out of all people, doesn’t need to know about your bad experiences with sex.
“I—c-can we change the subject, please?” You clear your throat, locking your eyes on the TV screen, not grasping whatever happens on the film and only trying to cool down your burning red face and the stomach-knotting embarrassment you feel.
“Are you telling me no man has ever made you orgasm?” You feel Jungkook’s gaze on your face and sigh in defeat, licking your now-chapped lips as your face burns up again.
“I haven’t, okay?!” You groan, “Maybe some people just don’t like sex that much!” You hide your face in your palms, refusing to look up and see Jungkook’s shocked face.
“No man has ever made you cum?” He looks at you with a surprised yet intrigued face.
You hate this; you hate that Jungkook, out of all the people in the world, knows about your bad experiences with sex. After your first-ever bastard of a boyfriend, Hajoon, you tried doing it again, but it only made you even more traumatised than you already were.
Ever since the last guy you’ve ever been with finished in two seconds and then fainted on top of you, the image of sex was forever stained on your books, and thinking about your experiences makes you physically gag.
Sex isn’t everything, you always tell yourself, but it sure sometimes makes you feel….bad. Twenty-one years of your life and you’ve never orgasmed with someone else definitely makes you slightly insecure, especially when you have a friend as sexually active and sex-positive as Aera.
“Yes! Now can you stop asking questions?! This is already as embarrassing as it is.” You grab a cushion and put it on your face, groaning, “Sex isn’t everything.”
Jungkook hums, “You’re right, it’s not everything, but it’s amazing once you have the right partner to do it with. It’s healthy to have sex, you know?”
“Yeah, I know, I know—I guess I just haven’t found anyone good yet.” You sigh, and Jungkook bites his lip; a few seconds of comfortable silence surround you before Jungkook speaks up and says the unthinkable.
“I could help you if you let me.”
You furrow your eyebrows, finally taking your eyes off the TV to look at the man before you. “Help me with what? Having sex?” You snort, but Jungkook doesn’t laugh; he’s not amused—he’s serious.
“Yes.”
You choke on your spit once again, coughing desperately as your face burns crimson red, your eyes widening and lifting to gaze at his face again. “What?! Y-You’re serious?!”
“Of course I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be?” Jungkook stays calm as if what he asked you was the most normal thing in the world—and you; you’re panicking, infinite thoughts passing through your mind as you try to grasp his ‘offer’ fully.
“I—y-you're—” You stop and take a deep breath, “You’re my best friend’s b-brother. Won’t this be….I-I don’t know….weird?”
“Only if you make it to be weird, kitty.” Jungkook says, a breathy chuckle coming out of his lips, “I have no problem with it; I’ll only help you out, but if you don’t want it, then we’ll never talk about this ever again. Your choice, kitty.”
You take in a deep breath, “What would you get o-out of it, though? We’re not….intimate.”
You and Jungkook are not friends; the closest thing you can call him is an acquaintance, but even that, you’re not sure he is. Jungkook’s only ever been your unreachable crush and your best friend’s brother you saw on occasion, never getting into deep conversations.
And what would he even get out of….whatever it is he’s offering? All he’s saying is that you will get pleasure, but what would Jungkook be getting in return? Fucking you out of all the people he can have is…..weird.
Why you?
“W-what would you get out of this, though?” You gulp, and Jungkook’s lips tug on a faint smirk, his body squirming to find a better position closer to you.
“Pleasure, kitty. It’s been a while since the last time I’ve been with someone.” Jungkook chuckles, licking his lips.
“And I know for a fact that you don’t want a relationship either, now, do you? It’ll be pleasure for us both without the need for commitment. Just fun and pleasure.”
He’s right; you don’t want a relationship. Relationships will only get in the way of your career, and you cannot afford a distraction from heartbreak. But you never thought you’d be one to go for a ‘fuck-buddy’ situationship, either. Especially one with Jungkook.
“How do I know you’re not just trying to use me to wet your bed?” You raise your eyebrow, and Jungkook laughs.
“This is just to help both our desires; I would never use you in that way. If you don’t want this, tell me right now.”
“I—”
You’re cut off when his lips touch yours in a sweet peck, and your breath is taken away, struggling to breathe once you feel his face close to yours. “Let me show you, kitty,” Jungkook whispers in your ear, and you gasp, his hand connecting to your chest, pushing your back onto the white couch.
Jungkook’s lips immediately kiss your neck, sweet pecks leading a path to your jaw and eventually your lips, placing one last peck before withdrawing his face from yours entirely.
You stare at the chains around his neck, being forced downwards as Jungkook stares at you with a smirk on his lips, your salivary glands producing thick saliva that fails to eliminate the lump in your throat.
“What about Aera?! She’ll have my head if she knows about this.” You clear your throat, your heart sinking down to your stomach at the image of an enraged Aera finding out about whatever you’re doing with her older brother, whom she hates.
“Aera doesn’t have to know; no one has to. Forget about Aera for a moment and focus on what you want, kitty.” Jungkook licks your neck in a swift motion, a low, almost silent moan slipping through your mouth once his tongue comes in contact with your sensitive skin. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”
Fuck Aera and everyone else—you deserve your own pleasure, don’t you? Fuck being selfless; for once, you think about your pleasure and what you want.
And you want this.
“You can continue.” You lick your lips, breathing heavily, urging him to go on, and Jungkook bites his lip at the sight of you, sucking in his lip piercing as he examines how pretty you look under him.
“Do you touch yourself, kitty? Did you make yourself cum since those excuses of men couldn’t, hm?”
You gulp, cheeks turning into their usual flushed state when you’re with Jungkook. You nod your head slowly at his question, trying to fight the urge to squirm in embarrassment—you just confessed to Jungkook that you masturbate.
“Don’t be shy now, kitty. It’s normal; I do it, too.” Jungkook chuckles, “Tell me, how do you touch yourself, pretty?”
Pretty. That’s a new nickname, one that has your pussy drenching and your butterflies flying around inside your stomach faster than their average speed.
“Sorry, I’ve never talked with anyone so openly about….my sexual experiences.” You breathe out, “I use my fingers, a-and a pink vibrator my roommate gave me for my birthday.” You breathe out, giggling slightly at the memory, and Jungkook laughs, your body already hot, bothered by his presence when he hasn’t done anything but stare at you.
His eyes are of the wicked and can corrupt you to his world of sin with a mere glance.
And you love it.
“A pink vibrator for a present?”
You nod, giggling while trying to hide your flushed face from his intense stare, “My roommate is a bit crazy.”
He chuckles, his hand passing through your cheeks, caressing them in an almost gentle manner, the air getting thicker once his warm skin touches yours.
Your locked-up desire for him gets awakened like never before, turning you on and crippling your body with the sheer need to touch him, to feel him in any way that you can while your eyes fill with lust-driven sin.
Your lips touch faintly, brushing ever so slightly with each other while your hot breaths—it’s a fire between you, burning your skin, consuming your every nerve as your hot breaths reach one another’s skin.
Thinking with your urges irrationally, you lift your head and kiss Jungkook’s enticing lips, his mouth opening up seconds after your lips meet, his tongue welcoming yours in a slow burn kiss.
His lips are intoxicating and, most of all, leave you addicted for more, even when you’ve only tried them once.
“Hmm,” Jungkook disconnects your mouth with a faint ‘pop’, a small trail of saliva on his chin as he looks at you while licking his lips, “You taste sweet, exactly like I thought you would.”
Maybe you’re overthinking his words, but your stomach almost collapses when you hear his sentence. He has thought about you, too?
“Can’t wait to taste your sweet pussy. Bet it tastes even sweeter than your lips.” Jungkook bites his lip, his eyes filled with lust and hunger, and your clit throbs at his dirty words.
“I’m getting hard just by imagining….God, kitty.” Jungkook kisses down your neck, but before he can continue, you hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and Jungkook immediately pulls his body away from yours, sitting on the couch in the same position as when he startled you, looking as if nothing happened while you look like a mess—you feel like a mess.
“Oh, you’re here.” Aera spits his name with venom in her voice, crossing her arms as she stares at Jungkook with repulsion in her eyes.
You’ve never known the reason behind Aera’s hatred for her older brother; it’s been going on for about two years, and even muttering the name ‘Jungkook’ is enough to get her heated.
But it wasn’t always like this. No, you vividly remember how much she talked about Jungkook with admiration in her eyes, looking up to him and treating him like any other typical sister would her brother.
Until she flipped a switch inside her mind years ago and decided to hate him. You’ve stopped questioning her, though; it has become so common that you forget that she once actually liked her older brother, something seemingly of another world if you think about the possibility of it today.
Jungkook isn’t a bad person; even though your years of crushing on him may have turned you a bit biassed with your opinion of him, you still know he’s nice, a good person, and you never understood where the hatred could have come from or originated in.
You were always curious about it all, but after a long time of asking and getting vague to no answers, you dropped the subject.
“Hello to you too, Aera.” Jungkook chuckles and gets up from his seat, your face still slightly flushed from everything that went down seconds ago, your body finding it hard to pretend as if your former crush just didn’t offer to experiment sex with you, teach you how to have pleasure without your own hands.
It all seems like a dream, a perfect dream—too good to be true.
“Well, I’ll be going now. I’ll see you around Aera.” Before Jungkook leaves, he turns around and winks at you, your cheeks getting red once again, and it’s thankfully hidden from the room's darkness.
“Hopefully not.” Aera rolls her eyes, and you take a look at her, your eyebrows furrowing when you see her state; hair everywhere, cheeks flushed, and redder than normal lips.
“Next time you want to fuck someone, make sure your best friend isn’t in the same house.”
You choke on your spit, and Jungkook leaves with a smirk on his face, leaving no time for Aera with crimson-red cheeks and her jaw on the floor.
“Fucking asshole,” Aera mutters under her breath and reaches for the empty space beside you, where Jungkook previously was.
“Were you really having sex with Taehyung?!” You ask with a light gasp, and Aera rolls her eyes, leaving her back on the cushion with a huff.
“Can we not talk about it?”
You giggle, “Whatever you say. Was it good, at least?”
“Amazing.” Aera bites her lip, and you shake your head with a breathy chuckle. You know Aera expects you to judge her, but after almost indulging in a sexual act with Jungkook in her living room, you sure can’t say anything.
“I’m just weirded out that you haven’t said anything criticising me yet.” Aera snorts, and you clear your throat, a knot forming on your stomach as you find it hard to swallow your forming saliva.
“Yeah, well, I-I’m too tired for it.” You chuckle, trying to sound as convincing as you can.
You’re not lying to her; she hasn’t explicitly asked, ‘are you doing it with my brother?’ but nonetheless, you feel awful, your throat feeling residues of bile crippling up and threatening to come out.
You despise hiding things from your best friend, having to keep such a secret from her. As the saying goes, if you can’t tell your best friend, you shouldn’t be doing it.
So, if you will feel this weight on your body, even after not doing anything much with Jungkook—should you take his offer?
As Taehyung returns, in the same state as Aera was, your phone lets out a ‘ping’, and your heart races when you see who it is—you forgot you had his contact on your phone.
Jungook : Think about my offer, and then text me, kitty. I’ll be waiting.
Jungook : I hope you say yes ;)
You bite your lip as you read his text messages, your stomach’s butterflies flapping when you read his winking face. I hope you say yes.
Would it be too bad if you accepted his offer?
☾ ⊹ · *. ⊹ ✦   ✵ *
“Hey, I’ll be going to work. Do you wanna come with me?” Soyeon asks, and you take your eyes off your book to look at her with confusion.
“What?”
“I asked if you want to come to work with me, seeing that you don’t have anything else to do,” Soyeon says, and you lift your eyebrows at her sudden question.
She’s not wrong, though; you don’t have anything else to do. It’s Monday, and your university is closed for the day. Instead of studying, you decided to spend your day finishing your novel and staying inside your room listening to your favourite bands on your vinyl.
And it’s been two days since your sleepover—two days since Jungkook proposed his offer to you. And you’ve been thinking about it every minute of your day, contemplating if you should or not take the offer.
You want to do it; you want to broaden your sexual experience, and doing it with someone like Jungkook is an advantage. And, on the plus side, you’ll be fulfilling all your teenage fantasies you had of him.
No strings, purely physical—a dream, if you say so.
You’ve thought about Aera finding out, but if you’re careful, she won’t find out, right?
You’re still conflicted about what you should do, and getting out of your house could help.
“The tattoo shop?”
Soyeon giggles, “Yes, where else, nabi?”
“Sure, why not.” You shrug your shoulders and close your book, throwing it on the couch before you head to your bedroom to get yourself out of your sleep clothes and into your blue jeans and the Beatles sweater. After all, you’re not going anywhere fancy, and the sweater is pretty and comfortable.
Next thing you know, you’re in front of the tattoo parlour, with ‘Runaway tattoo parlour’ written on top of the shop. Soyeon grabs your arm and pushes you in, the bell on top of the door ringing once you enter inside, and everyone inside the parlour looks at the sound, consequently looking at you.
“Hey, Soyeon! You’re a bit late today.” A man with pink hair appears in front of your friend and smiles when he looks at you, “Hi, I’m Jimin. Are you here for a tattoo?” The man, Jimin, says with an enchanting smile, and you won’t lie; his beauty—his etherealness, enamours you.
“No, no, I’m here ‘cause of my friend, Soyeon.”
Jimin raises his eyebrows, “You’re friends with Soyeon?” He asks, almost shocked, and Soyeon rolls her eyes.
“She’s my roommate I talked to you about.”
Jimin raises an eyebrow and immediately grabs your hand and raises it to his lips, kissing your hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you…..”
You chuckle at his charm; you already know he is a natural flirt. You observe his feature—he has plump lips, a little redder than usual; he must have been kissing someone, you think to yourself. You see the piercings on his ears, silver earrings of many kinds, just like Jungkook’s, and some tattoos on his arm.
One tattoo in specific catches your attention; it’s the 방탄소년단 and some roses on inked on his arm. Bulletproof boy scouts.
Hm, you’re curious to know the meaning behind it. But it’s not your business; you don’t know Jimin, and as you promised to yourself, you would stop your curiosity and judgemental ways.
“____.” You say your name, and Jimin smiles, showing you his crooked teeth that are to die for. You can see by his confidence in flirting that he’s killed women and men with that smile—you can sense how inflated his ego is, and rightfully so.
“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” Jimin winks, and you laugh, a light blush covering your cheeks at his shameless flirting, and Soyeon groans.
“Stop trying to get into her pants and go back to work, Jimin.” Soyeon smacks Jimin’s arm, and Jimin adorably giggles, leaving you both to return to where he was before, but not before throwing you a sly flirtatious wink.
“Is he always so flirty?” You ask with a chuckle, and Soyeon sighs.
“Unfortunately. It’s really annoying. ” Soyeon rolls her eyes, “I’ll be going to Mr J’s office; wanna come?” Soyeon slightly hesitates when talking about her boss’s name, but you don’t pay much mind to it and only nod your head at her question.
Ah, the famous Mr J, Soyeon’s boss, who she never fails to stop talking about, always having something to say about either his beauty or complaints about how strict he can be.
Soyeon quickly grabs your wrist, pulling you to follow her to the office at the other end of the shop. You observe some of the frames on the walls, beautiful paintings to take your breath away, but one, in particular, catches your attention.
You don’t get to see it much due to Soyeon’s quick steps, but you were able to grasp what it was. A rose, the same one on Jimin’s arm, the same one that caught your attention when you met him minutes ago.
You enter the office without Soyeon knocking, and you’re met with someone you didn’t think you would see for another week sitting behind his chair.
Jungkook.
“Jungkook?!” You gasp slightly, and he lifts his head from his papers to look at you, holding a surprised face for a few seconds before morphing into his signature smile.
“Kitty? What are you doing here?” Jungkook chuckles, getting up from his seat so he can head to where you stand.
“H-hold on, Mr J, you know her?” Soyeon gasps and your jaw goes to the floor—Jungkook is Mr J.
Sure, you didn’t know what Jungkook did for a living, but you expected him to work under his father’s firm; they are filthy rich, after all. You could have predicted many things, but a tattoo shop owner wasn’t one of them.
Hm, this certainly gives you a new perspective of him. You did always find tattoo artists hot for some odd reason, and knowing Jungkook is one….well, it sure does cause a new wave of butterflies in your stomach.
“She’s my little sister’s best friend.” Jungkook smiles, “It’s great to see you again, kitty.” Jungkook smirks, his voice ignited with tease and his dark eyes burying into yours, hoping to remind you of the offer in a non-verbal way.
Or perhaps it’s just you who can’t look at him without thinking of that night two days ago.
“Uh, anyway, I just wanted to tell you I arrived, and I’ll be heading to my usual chair.” Soyeon says and looks at you, “You coming?”
“I’m right behind you; I just gotta talk with Jungkook for a bit.” You smile, and Soyeon furrows her eyebrows, suspicion in her eyes as she looks at you, but she exits the office nonetheless.
“So you stalked me all the way here just to see me, kitty?” Jungkook smirks, leaning his butt on his desk as he folds his arms, your body growing hot as his eyes look at you from up and down.
“No, I didn’t even know you worked here. Don’t get cocky, Jungkook.” You playfully roll your eyes, and Jungkook laughs. “And I guess it’s good that you’re here, so I can tell y-you my answer.”
You stare at his brown eyes, looking at you with expectation for whatever may come out of your mouth.
You’ll br telling him your decision. After days of no reply, being here, staring at Jungkook while silence falls above you—you’ve finally made up your mind.
You take a deep breath. It’s now or never. Will you let yourself feel pleasure in doing what you want, or will you dismiss it all over the hypothesis of your friend catching you?
It’s time to be selfish, you tell yourself. Just this once, you will put yourself first.
“Let’s do it.” You let out a breath.
“I accept your offer.”
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please reblog if i like this fic !! 💗 reblogging really helps a lot <3
© 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐. all rights reserved; do not copy, translate or post it in another platform at any circumstances.
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seokgism · 2 months
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october 4 ; phone sex with jeon jeongguk.
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pairing. jeon jeongguk x fem!reader | warnings. phone sex, heavy dirty talk, light daddy kink (literally one mention), mutual masturbation, brothers best friend trope, forbidden relationship, jeongguk’s lowkey a pervert, ocs lydia and lorenzo. | word count. 1.8k | kinktober masterlist.
summary. you accidentally send a nude to your brothers best friend, turns out he enjoys it more than you think.
you: can u do me a favor :)
lyds: depends…
you: i just need you to look at this pic i took and see if it’s sexy enough to send to this guy i’m talking to
lyds: yeah no
you: LYDIA PLS
lyds: i’m kidding!
lyds: send
As you went to press the camera icon, you got a text. The notification popped up from the top. You didn’t see who it was before you ignored it, sliding it up to the top (or so you thought you did), telling yourself you’d check it later. So you opened the camera icon, sending the picture.
You saw your friend had read the message, but she wasn’t saying anything. You thought nothing bad of it, assuming she had just opened the message while she was doing something and she’d respond after. So you exited the messages app and scrolled through your phone.
lyds: so you gonna send it or not?
Her message pops up. You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You sent it to her, right? RIGHT?
you: i did?
lyds: no you didn’t?
You scrolled up, through your messages — nothing. You swore you sent the picture to her. You literally saw “Read 11:25 PM!”
you: DUDE I THINK I SENT IT TO SOMEONE ELSE FUCK
lyds: OHMYGOD?
lyds: CHECK UR OTHER MESSAGES.
So you clicked out of your messages. Under her contact was Jeongguk’s which said, “Attachment: 1 Image.”
Fuck. You hoped, you prayed, that it was something else. You opened the messages and there it was. The picture of your naked breasts with your finger in between your lips under his message that said, “hey.”
While sliding his message to the top, you had accidentally pressed on it instead of clearing it. Idiot.
Quickly, you pressed the typing bar, immediately going to tell him it was an accident and that the picture wasn’t for him. But he beat you to it, sending you a picture in response.
His hard, long cock was standing up straight. Clear precum was dripping from his pink tip, down to his veiny shaft and his long, pale fingers were wrapped around his base.
Your eyes bulged out of their sockets. Your hand slapped over your mouth. You were baffled that he’d even send anything back, let alone a picture of his dick! You, his best friends little sister.
Another photo popped up. This time he used his front camera. His hand still wrapped around his cock and you got a full view of his abs. The camera was below his nose but you could see him biting his bottom lip, piercing in the corner. And his sexy tattoo sleeve. God, what you would do to have him choke you with that arm.
jeongguk: i sent two, your turn ;)
You were shocked. Way too shocked to say anything. You couldn’t do this. You had to tell him it was a complete accident. Oh, but you didn’t want him to feel like a dumbass! You couldn’t embarrass him like that.
jeongguk: taking that picture for me?
jeongguk: or are both your hands busy rn? ;)
How do you put a stop to this without making a fool of him? You wouldn’t say you didn’t like this, but he was your brothers best friend. You knew Jeongguk since your junior year of high school, braces and glasses and all. You were twenty-three now, having grown out of your ugliness. Jeongguk however, had always been sexy to you. You always had a small crush on him, but you forced yourself not to because you weren’t allowed to. You knew if your brother found out you and Jeongguk ever did anything, he’d kick Jeongguk’s ass.
The loud ping of a text message snapped you out of your thoughts.
Attachment: 1 Video
Hesitantly, you clicked on it, unlocking your phone, and pressing play.
“Fuck!” He moaned in the video. His hand was pumping up and down his long cock at a rapid pace. The clear precum dripping from his tip to his shaft shone from his phone flashlight. “So fucking sexy, Y/N! Wanna fuck your tits with my cock, fuck you got me so hard!”
Your thighs clenched. His cock was so pretty and long.
jeongguk: please say something
jeongguk: need you to talk to me baby i’m so close
you: pls stop
jeongguk: stop? you sent me that picture first
you: i’m sorry
jeongguk: don’t be, i loved it ;)
you: no i mean i sent that on accident
jeongguk: so? i didn’t
you: but what about enzo
You wanted this. So badly. You had a crush on the man since high school for fucks sake! But your brother, Lorenzo, truly wouldn’t approve.
jeongguk: fuck enzo
jeongguk: you’re a big girl
jeongguk: you make your own decisions
He was right. You guys were all adults now, maybe Lorenzo wouldn’t mind anymore. Right?
jeongguk: now play with me :(
jeongguk: i had to stop stroking my dick to text you smh
He sends another photo once again. His thumb is pressed on his tip, fingers around his base.
jeongguk: why don’t you come over and sit on my cock
you: don’t tempt me
jeongguk: atta girl
you: fuck you
jeongguk: i’d let you
You slide your hands into your panties, fingertips touching your clit. You feel your cunt slick with your essence.
you: you got me so wet
you: wanna sit on your cock so bad
you: you’re so big
You slid your fingers into your aching hole so easily, lubricated with your arousal. You let out a moan, watching as a text from Jeongguk popped up.
jeongguk: yeah? you touching yourself for me?
Fuck, how did he know you so well?
you: mhm
jeongguk: how many fingers?
you: two
jeongguk: put in one more
You obey even though he can’t even fucking see you. So whipped for him, you do anything he says.
you: three now
you: feels so good touching myself thinking about you
you: but i’m sure your thick cock would feel so much better
jeongguk: this thick cock wants your tight pussy so much baby
you: wanna cum on it so bad
jeongguk: i wanna cum all over you
jeongguk: inside your pussy
jeongguk: on your ass
jeongguk: in your mouth
jeongguk: on your face
jeongguk: on those big tits of yours
you: jeongguk i want you so bad
Your phone vibrates in your hand, shaking you from your pleasure. Jeongguk is calling you. Fuck. You slide the answer button.
“You still touching yourself?” He asks from the other side.
“Yes,” You moan.
“Oh, your moans are so sexy baby,” He whispers. “Wish I was there so I could fuck you.”
“Mmm, want you to fuck me so hard right now!”
“Yeah,” He chuckles. “You want it rough?”
“Yes, fuck! Want it so rough until I cry, until it hurts!”
Jeongguk made you so wet that when you shoved your fingers in and out of yourself so rapidly, you could hear the squelching sounds.
“If I had known Enzo’s little sister was so freaky, I would’ve fucked you already, baby.”
“Don’t talk about him while I’m touching myself please.”
He ignores you, “Who were you sending that picture to, huh?”
“N- no one!” You say through moans. Just listening to Jeongguk’s husky voice turned you on.
“Yeah? Fucking liar. I should go to your apartment and punish you.”
“Want you to punish me.”
Jeongguk strokes his cock lazily as he talks to you. He thinks your voice is pretty. And your moans. Your sweet pretty moans. Though he doesn’t chase his orgasm. He just strokes his cock, waiting for his orgasm to come itself.
“Yeah? Want Daddy to spank you till your ass is all red.”
You never really liked that word. But the way it slips off of Jeongguk’s tongue makes it so sexy.
“Yes, fuck!”
“Wanna fuck you so hard for being a bad girl.”
“Yeah? How hard?” You tease.
“So hard until you can't walk. Wanna tie your hands together and pound into your tight pussy until you squirt all over my cock. Please, baby just wanna fuck your pussy so bad.” He moans breathily into the phone.
“Maybe I should be a bad girl more often, hm?”
“Definitely,” He chuckles. “Oh baby, I’m close.”
“Me too,” You moan.
“Fuck, Y/N! The next time I see you I’m ripping off your fucking clothes and fucking you against the first piece of furniture I see! Even if it’s in front of your stupid brother!”
Though you would’ve scolded him for bringing up your brother at a time like this, you’re too caught up in your pleasure to even argue. “I- I’m gonna cum,”
“Cum for me, baby!”
The burning feeling in your stomach explodes and you’re shaking in pleasure. You moan loudly into the phone. On the other end, Jeongguk grunts. His thick white ropes of cum shoot out of his tip onto his stomach.
“Fuck! That was the hardest I came in so long.” He laughs. You smile even though he can’t see it. “Thank you.”
“Likewise.” You say.
“Listen this is fun. You and me. And I’d like for it to happen again.”
If your sixteen year old self was listening to this, she’d be jumping off of walls. Your childhood crush wanted to hook up with you. Of all people, you.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
Like that? You’d love it.
“Great,”
This was a dream come true. Truly. Were you even awake? Was this a dream?
“So you gonna tell me who you really meant to send that picture to? Or I’m just going to assume you sent it to me to catch my attention.”
You scoff, “Get a hold of yourself, Jeon. Not everyone thinks you’re hot shit.”
“You do.” And you did indeed.
“I meant to send it to my friend. There, happy?”
“Still don’t believe you.”
You chuckle, “Whatever.”
“Well, I had fun tonight.”
“Me too.”
“Alright, I’m gonna go wash this cum off of me,” You giggle. “Same time tomorrow night?”
“I’ll think about it.” You joke.
“Okay girl, we’ll see about that when you answer my call.” You both laugh. “Talk to you later, Y/N.”
“Bye Jeongguk.”
“Don’t miss me too much.”
“Fuck off.” You say before hanging up.
You lock your phone, throwing it beside you. You stare at the wall, letting out a deep sigh. Did that really just happen? You had phone sex with the Jeon Jeongguk. Your childhood crush, your brothers best friend, former high school fuckboy — that Jeon Jeongguk. You got to hear his moans. You got his dick pics. You got to hear about how bad he wanted to fuck you. You got him pussy whipped. A loud ping interrupts you of your thoughts. You grab your phone, and see the message from your friend.
lyds: so?
you: let’s just say i don’t think i need to send the picture anymore
lyds: spill.
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© seokgism 2022. all rights reserved.
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redsaurrce · 4 months
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LESSON I
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LESSON II
Synopsis : In which he took every opportunity to fuck the daylights out of you.
Pairing : YandereTeacher!jungkook x bully student fem!reader
Genre : smut, high school au
Word count : 4.0K
Taglist: @darkuni63
Warnings : 18+, Profanity, kissing, nipple play, YANDERE THEMES, use of stick and blackboard marker at intimate parts, chewing gum used for sexual purposes, non-con, mentions of licking sneakers, cumming
-
You licked the lollipop around your plump lips as you pulled it out with a pop, your left boot rested on the shoulders of the boy who tried to flirt with your best friend last night in the party.
"Listen you rat! If you are found to make a move on Arin once again," you looked down at him with threat filled in your eyes, "I'll make sure your father gets kicked out of his job and never get a chance in another company." The boy's eyes flickered and he dropped down while rubbing his hands asking for apology, "I'm so sorry Y/N, I'm very very sorry Arin this won't happen again."
You smirked. Afterall you were the richest kid in your school, who comes from a powerful chaebol family, your grandfather was next in nomination to run for the president. No one would dare harm a single hair on your body because they knew your background, your impact.
It was deadly.
Although you were infamous as a rich snob or the bully, you didn't particularly go on bullying people for no reason. A coin has both sides, people picked up whichever side they wanted to see yours themselves. Some admired you for saving them from other assholes while the others either hated you because
1- they were those assholes
Or
2- well yeah you did sometimes lose your temper over petty things and bullied them
Or
3- simply out of jealousy
But did you really care? Nope!
-
You were chewing your gum as you took your seat, crossed your legs and took out the biology book and flipped the page to where the lesson was left last day.
God who cared about those cilia and flagella, ugh. You were pissed.
After a moment you saw a person step inside the class who was definitely not your teacher, this man was much more handsome.
You heard the girls in front and back of your desk squeal among themselves, you scoffed. Were they already sold before this man even opened his mouth?
You shrugged off, none of your business afterall.
"Hello everyone I need your attention, today onwards I will be taking your biology classes instead of Mr. Leviski." He smiled, all were swooned.
"I am Jeon Jungkook, nice to meet you my dear students." And everyone chirped in with enthusiasm, "Nice to meet you too Mr. Jeon."
-
He started reading the chapter while you listened to him with half lidded eyes only waiting for the period to end already.
You yawned, "You there, what's your name?" He said while you kept looking at those big letters on your book which read 'cytoskeleton' . Arin who was sitting next to you nudged at your elbow and whispered, "Y/N he's asking about you!" You saw her from the corner of your eye then shifted your attention to your new teacher. You raised your forefinger and pointed towards yourself, "me?"
"Yes you, what is your name?" He asked you in all seriousness while you were still unbothered. "Y/N, Han... Y/N." You emphasized slowly on your name for him not to ask you to repeat again. But why, to him the way you said your name sounded so seductive in addition to those uninterested eyes? Was he getting delusional? He sighed as he ran his hands through his hair.
"No student is allowed to chew anything in my class, throw it out, now!" And he firmly pointed his thumb towards the door. You almost groaned, lord it was his first day and he was already beginning to get fucking annoying.
-
You were walking through the corridor and sighed, what a boring day and Arin walking next to you wasn't really helping anything to cope up with your boredom. "Y/N!" Finally she thankfully opened her mouth, "Don't you think Mr. Jeon is too handsome to be a teacher? " nope, you weren't thankful anymore.
"I don't know. But it's true that I don't really want him as my teacher." You said with pursed lips. "Oh c'mon are you still mad about the morning incident? " She pouted.
"Well obviously, he needs to be reminded of his place soon enough as--" Before you could complete your sentence you spotted your mother and father talking with the principal and Jungkook with broad smiles on their faces- something that they never gave to you. Beside them stood your elder sister, most probably receiving praises given how good of a model student she was, also the topper of her class.
Your parents always treated her as the princess when they outright neglected you, you were not much of an attention seeker but it did hurt, it hurt to see that they were capable of loving but you were not the receiver, even once.
You took Arin's arm and turned her around to leave but WAIT! Why was that Jeon Jungkook talking with your parents so happily? Was he trying to secure something? You contorted your eyebrows at the thought that your parents never heed their attention to any teacher, he being new to this school at that was pretty much unsettling to you.
-
It was another day in school while you walked in the cafeteria, carrying your plate to your seat.
As you took in your third bite, a large thud was heard and your foot felt something hot.
"Holy fucking shit! My favorite Fendi sneakers!! " You screamed in anguish as you looked at the curry spilled over them.
You glared at the girl sitting on the floor who had tripped and caused this havoc, you stood up in front of her. "Lick them clean bitch." She cried at the venom-filled words you spat but that was only adding to your anger.
Jungkook entered the cafeteria and he witnessed the scene, in anyone's eye it was evident that you were bullying just another student.
His eyes turned dark, he needed to teach you a lesson.
"Y/N!" His voice echoed throughout the silent cafeteria as it was silenced by your scream.
You groaned, which motherfucker had the audacity to interrupt you?! You turned to see that handsome annoying face once again.
"Follow me to my office, now!"
Fuck! You cursed under your breath.
-
He looked at you with his dark lustful eyes while you stood at a corner near the door, "Open your shirt" He commanded as he flipped through the register kept on his table.
You sighed, "Mr Jeon can you be specific? I didn't get the reference. "
"I never made one, it is what I told you to do- open.. your.. shirt." Your eyes went wide, the fuck?
You blinked and then scoffed, "What will happen to you if this gets out? Have you ever thought of that?" He sighed as he kept the register aside, "Of course! Who do you think the world would believe? A bully or a sweet teacher? It takes a matchstick to start a fire Y/N and that fire will only burn you, not me." He shook his head with a smirk.
You grit your teeth, "I will tell my father! Do you even know who I am?"
He chuckled, "A spoilt brat whose father wouldn't even care even if she died?"
Your expressions changed completely, clueless of how he knew about it and also scared of what advantage he might take of that information.
"You didn't expect me to know that right? Too bad! Now kneel down and open your shirt, don't make me repeat again." He said casually sitting back on top of the desk in his office.
You hesitantly kneeled down, your hands shaking while opening your shirt. A pink bra with white lace, how cute!
He stood up and went to close the door, "Now open that bra." You clenched your fist in anger, what kind of a punishment was this?
He sighed, "if I repeat the sentence once again I'm gonna kick you out of this room without the shirt." Fuck! You'd be embarrassed to death if people saw you like that.
"Alright then let me repeat again, Y/N open-" and before he could finish you hurriedly opened your sports bra with your boobs bouncing off by the speed you opened them.
He grinned. "Keep your hands off them." He took his stick and tapped on your arms which you brought up to cover your breasts.
You gulped as you removed them. What a good girl! And in an instant he opened the camera on his mobile and it went- snap! Your eyes filled up with absolute horror. "Relax, I won't do anything with the photo as long as you obey me." He smirked.
He then traced the outline of your boobs with the end of the stick which then he pressed on the nipple, pressing them inside. Your face was morphed in pain, you were trying your level best to not stand up and run away from him.
He came closer and sat in front of you, the stick pressing deeper.
"Y/N today onwards you must obey my words and if you don't do so then I'll upload the pic on the anonymous bulletin board of the school." He then removed the stick and stood up. "Put on the clothes back on."
-
Ever since that incident two days ago, you made sure to avoid Jungkook at every cost, even in the classes you tried to remain as inconspicuous as you could.
You were walking down the stairs while chewing another gum as you felt a little stabilized, your breath hitched as you heard your name, "Y/N come to my office." You knew that voice very well, it's engraved in your head like a tattoo since his sentences kept ringing in your head again and again.
Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as you opened the door.
"Everytime you enter this room, you must open your shirt and keep it inside my drawer. That's the protocol you must follow otherwise your photo will be on the anonymous school bulletin the very next second." He said while not looking up from the paper bundle kept beside him on the table.
Your eyes flickered, just why was he doing this to you? You hesitantly opened your shirt and passed by him to keep inside his drawers. "Now stand in front of me." You followed his words.
"Alright, how many chewing gums do you have?" He asked you and you put your hand inside your pocket to count them. "Three, sir." He hummed at your response. "I told you earlier that no student within my eyesight should be caught chewing anything." -- hold on, that's not what he actually said.
"But sir you said--" "sshh no buts!", he continued, "Lets play a game, the rules are that once you will blow the bubble gum and when I hear it burst with loud pop, I'll let you go. Remember one chance per bubble gum." He had his typical half crooked smile.
You fished out one pack of gum.
That should be easy, very easy for you. You nodded and tore the packet of gum, but to your surprise he slid down your sports bra before you could react, your eyes went wide. "S-sir?" He smirked, "Did you think it would be that easy? Now now, go ahead, chew that gum and pop it off if you can." He held your waist to bring you closer and his mouth attacked on your boobs.
The .. hell?
You grabbed his hair as you tried to be stable, you needed your mind to calm down. Meanwhile the man was truly getting more excited at the tight grip on his hair. You thought if that's the condition then you should quickly blow the bubble gum.
You started chewing-- fuck! He started softly chewing on your nipples as well, it took you a moment to realize that he was copying your chewing movements, he chewed on your cherries the same way you chewed on the bubble gum.
Then you quickly extended your tongue to allow the gum to be blown up, he copied the same action with his tongue lapping aroud your nipples in circles. When you tried to blow air in the gum, he sucked very hard on your hardened bud. Shit! You clenched your teeth and thus you failed to properly blow it!
One chance was gone, two remaining. "It's ok I can certainly pull it off this time" You mentally noted.
You went for second chance and saw him shift to your other breast, repeating the same actions- chewing your nipple while opening his shirt and then he opened his pants.
Fuck you needed to be quick! When you were once again sticking out your tongue to blow it up, his hands slid inside your skirt.
Fuck fuck fuck you needed to rush, you quickly blowed air and as soon as you did it, he harshly pinched your clit making you gasp and the bubble gum fell out of your mouth.
Damn it! Second chance was gone too!
He kept smirking as he removed his saliva dripping mouth from your breast, "Last chance or else you will be sucking on my dick till night, understand?" You whimpered, "y-yes sir."
"Good girl!" He smiled as he kissed your bare stomach which churned inside you. "Now onto the last gum." He said and you took it out.
You opened the packet and saw him kneel down, you were confused but his next action threw you in swirls of disgust. He lifted your short skirt and pulled down your shorts and then pulled down your pretty pink panties already soaked from the sensations he made you feel a few seconds ago.
You gulped and then took the last bubble gum inside your mouth, as expected, his mouth was now on your vagina, chewing your pubis like the way he was chewing your boobies moments before.
Your mind went hazy, you were rapidly cumming inside his mouth and he enjoyed every bit of it. For a moment you had even forgotten how to chew because the feeling was overwhelming. You regained your movement and once again stuck out your tongue. Jungkook squeezed your ass as he pushed his own tongue inside your opening. You whimpered but this time you were determined, no matter what, you will blow it with all your might.
And you did! You squeezed your eyes when blew air, the pressure also made twice your cum come out which filled up Jungkook's mouth deliciously. He moaned at the flavour when he heard POP! Ugh he went easy on you!
You pant for air, mind screaming in victory. He was disappointed at himself for not going a bit more hard on you and he hated it.
He stood up, "Well I think from now on whenever you'll chew bubble gum, you will be reminded of today!" He smirked, "And if I catch you again chewing them, I'll make sure you won't be able to get out of this room."
-
You went to your class all drained out, you sat on your seat and sighed. "You okay Y/N?" Arin asked you with worried eyes as you had missed a period already. "I'm not." You said before putting your head down as the bell rang.
You were peacefully resting when you heard students greet the teacher who just stepped in.
"Good afternoon students!" Your eyes shot open while recognizing the voice, it was him. Even though his voice was cheerful, you felt nothing but nauseous.
No! You sat up straight immediately because anytime you gave him room for to find flaws in you, he made sure to use it like a wild animal.
He smirked when he spotted you quickly sitting up like a good student, a good girl! He smiled as he looked down at the book.
"My goodness his smile looks so gorgeous, I wish he could step on me while smiling like that." A girl whispered who was sitting behind you and you wanted nothing more than to puke on her.
After finishing the portion of male and female genitals he announced, "Alright class I'll take a test on this portion tomorrow so be prepared alright?" He smiled to the students before walking out of the class. Ofcourse after seeing you, you who was deep in thoughts. He smiled to himself.
-
No matter how much you tried to focus, the things that happened in Jungkook's office kept flashing in front of your eyes, making you lose focus from your chapter again and again. You didn't even know whom to ask help from- hold on, your sister! She can explain.
You went and stood in front of her door to knock but instead you heard your parent's muffled voices. "So you're saying you want to marry his brother instead?" That was your mother's voice.
You scrunched up your nose, marry? You pressed your ear on the door tightly, "He already is working love, he will also become the future CEO! His brother is still in your school, not to mention in your class- don't be absurd Han Yoo-in." And that was your father's voice.
Well enough of eavesdropping, you walked quietly back to your room. You pondered over what you just heard, was she getting married to a potential CEO against her will?
Guess not all princesses get their lovers and also guess you can't really receive any help from your sister today. Sigh! Gotta do it yourself!
-
Next day you gave the test, honestly you did try your best reading everything clearly and answering them on the paper, yet you knew that you might have made a lot of mistakes.
Jungkook saw that on your paper - a lot of mistakes and he chuckled to himself. But he knew how to teach his little girl well.
A girl tapped on the side of your desk, "Y/N, Mr. Jeon wanted to see you in his office after school."
Fucking shit!
Your face immediately grew pale, was he going to punish you for the test now?
-
After the bell rang indicating that the school was finally over, everyone was walking out of the door gleefully except you, who needed to be present elsewhere. Honestly you saw this opportunity to run, but that would only come to bite back in your ass.
You slowly creaked his door open while your hands were practically shaking while pushing it. He glanced at you and then he went through the papers, he pulled out an answersheet, your answersheet and he clicked his tongue.
You kept your bag down and followed his protocol, opening the shirt to keep inside his drawer near which he was sitting on his chair. "Y/N open the shoes, come here and sit on the table in front of me." You took small steps and sat on the table facing him.
He kept your feet covered in socks on his thighs and spread your legs apart, you weren't even surprised anymore. "Hmm now the paper you've given in carries a lot of mistakes, we need to fix them, right darling?" Did you see this coming? Yes. Did you see the new nickname coming? No.
Your eyes flickered to your answer sheet which was covered in red all over, but you didn't do that bad if you recalled.
He opened your skirt and then slid down your panties, at this pointed you allowed him whatever the hell he was doing.
But to your surprise, he opened his drawer and brought out a black whiteboard marker and opened the lid with his teeth. He leaned in closer to your vagina and then took the marker to mark on your body part, "this is labia majora. "
You gasped, what in the actual fuck? Then he spread open your opening with his other hand, "this is labia minora. " He said as he looked up at your bewildered expression.
Then he kept the marker aside and tickled your another part with his middle finger, making your thighs trying to get close. "That's hymen."
Then he leaned in and ran his tongue all across another part, you clenched the edges of the table, "That's clitoris."
He then stood up and opened his shirt, unbuckled his pants and opened his underwear as well. "Come sit here Y/N", he gestured at the spot in front of him where he was standing, you gulped as you stood up with your wavy legs and went to sit down where he told you to, "Now look up!"
Fuck! He adjusted closer and now you were sitting right beneath his dick, which was already erected.
He began, "This is penis, now I will tell you the parts then when I ask you the questions, make sure you answer right because if you get the question wrong even once, you know the consequences better." His gaze darkened.
He took the marker and opened its cap once again, "this is the glans penis, this goes urethra, now the parts inside are epididymis which is...." He went on and on, rather quickly for your hazy brain to catch up.
"Alright we are good, now one right answer earns one kiss on my penis but the moment you can't give the right answer, you will face your punishment." His lustful gaze hovered over you as you were sitting there like a beautiful fairy you were, the floor already getting wet with your pre-cum, oh he couldn't wait for you to give a wrong answer.
To his surprise, rather to your own surprise as well, you were actually giving correct answers, not like he would complain when he saw you give him kisses on his dick, he seriously loved it infact, your soft plump lips, no he needed to kiss them himself.. right.. Now!
So on purpose he asked you a difficult question, your eyes went wide, "sir you never explained that?" His lips threatening to form a smirk, "no sweetheart, if you paid enough attention in your class you would have certainly gotten the answer correct. Now... prepare for your punishment."
You felt your brain switch off itself, you were terrified at what was coming, "Alright stand up!" As soon as you stood up, he pressed you to the nearest wall as he harshly kissed your lips while both of his hands working to open your bra.
When they fell down he used the opportunity to grab your boobs and thrust his penis inside your vagina. He kept playing with your nipples like turning a switch on and off.
You felt hot in your stomach and your spine getting those electric shocks running down. He detached his lips after biting at one corner of your lower lip then he moved on to the neck. "Soon we will be doing this on our bed baby" He said and once again got back to biting your neck.
Our bed? "O-our bed sir?" You were losing it, literally. "Yes baby, we will marry each other. Also call me Jungkook from now on my love, we will be husband and wife soon!"
The fawk he was saying?
Your nails dig on his hair as he pulled you up against the wall, he sucked on your pussy, "Yeah I will become the CEO of Jeon Pharmaceuticals two months later and your father had agreed to marry his daughter to me." He smiled wide, "No one can separate us Y/N baby."
"W-wait! CEO? Then w-why are you tea-teaching?" You managed to ask him between your moans and whimpers.
He chuckled, "I came here to experience a tough and challenging environment, what place would be better than a high school for that, oh and also to see my future wife as well." What the hell? Why did you never knew about your marriage- wait a damn minute, was he the one your father was talking about marrying to your sister?
Bad enough, because Jungkook thought that daughter would be you.
And you both thought that you were alone in the school so he didn't even bother to close the door. You were wrong, someone did witness both of your activity the entire time- Jungkook's stepbrother Taehyung.
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Hmm.. thinking to make a part 2 perhaps? Do give me motivation for that if u want, which is by giving *cough* feedback *cough* (pls) 🥺💖
Update: I've decided to make a part 2 less go!!
Update: Lesson 2 is out now!!
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baobaojng · 6 months
Text
Again (Jeon Jeongguk)
again (jeon jeongguk)
jeon jeongguk (rockstar jungkook) x (fem! waitress) reader
themes: angst, fluff, smut
summary: where rockstar jeon jungkook wonders if he’ll ever see you again.
warnings: graphic sex scene, they use protection because it's the only reasonable option here!, oc and jungkook have an age gap and they kinda have a crisis around that (jk is older)
note: i do not permit the use of this fic for anything else. this work is mine and mine alone. these premises and characters are entirely fictional and do not intend to paint anyone in a bad light.
©2022
wordcount: 7,729
author's masterlist
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-
Well of course you were having the time of your life, swaying around mindlessly on the dance floor - hair on the loose and friends way tipsier than you were.
Thank god your fried Joy was able to sneak you in this rich people club on the Upper East side. Apparently she partied with a popular choreographer named Hoseok during her recent escapade to Aruba (the guy apparently knew the owner or something), and now you were shimmying around snobby rich folk like you belonged.
“So,” Joy practically nudges you by the ass, hips still in sync with the music, “you having fun?“
You laugh, “of course I am! I don’t know where I am and I don’t care what we do!” 
Hands sprung up in the air, strangers unintentionally pressing themselves up against you. Your week was terribly long, and you sure knew how to party all the stress off. Maybe inspiration would hit with this emotional high - and maybe you’d forget all about the things clogging up your mind. 
Above you, a different scene unfolds. It’s not like you care enough to spare a glance and observe everything about this huge, overpriced, and way too decorated place - but you didn’t know that the VIP section overlooked the main floor of the club. 
“Who’s she?“ Jungkook asks Yoongi, his producer, who has no clue who he’s even talking about.
They’ve already gone through the usual round of groupies who stayed long enough to have their tongues wet and their dicks just hard enough for there to be some motivation to live another night out after an unproductive recording session. The usual when writing an album, and the usual when being fucking rockstars. 
“I don’t know man, there are tons of pieces of ass here.” Yoongi shrugs, shoots a glass of 42 down his throat like it’s water. Well, at this point it basically already is - this was almost every night anyway. 
“Pieces of ass we all know and love.” Jungkook wiggles his brows, alluding to the fact that they knew everyone here. Celebrities, trust fund babies— everyone. Anyone new was a form of excitement on its own.
“Yeah, well, okay,” Yoongi shifts in his seat, “let me take a second to look around.” 
Jungkook looks at you quietly, hoping his friend catches on quick and gives him a fucking clue. Yoongi had enough friends from being around the industry, and Jungkook was impatient. 
You look like you didn’t care, in fact you look a million times more confident than any of the model chicks that littered the place. Although he knew you didn’t belong here; effortless beauties that danced around so graceful and careless weren’t the usual types here. More girls trying to be sophisticated but only wanted to social climb and be taken home by someone with a shiny name. He’s taken by your white tank top, the skirt that hung by your hips - the sweaty sheen that glossed the high points of your face. Tattoos sticking out, and he wished he were close enough to see what they were. Curios to know what they meant, and what stories were behind them— what stories were behind you. 
“Her?“ Yoongi asks, “the one in red?“ He clarifies, and Jungkook knows he’s referring to the other unfamiliar girl dancing next to you. 
Friends, probably. He assumes you two are friends. But your friend isn’t the one catching his interest, no, it’s you.
“No, the one in white.”
“Oh, well, the one in red is my type.”
“Sure she is.” Jungkook gives up, stands to leave his hopelessly drunk friend in their little booth. It seems like he was alone on this one.
~
“Hey gorgeousness.” Hoseok, who you met earlier in the evening, smoothly makes his way to you on the dance floor and whispers in your ear.
“Hey!“ You hug him very lightly, trying to express your gratitude through gesture. He gets the message and smiles. 
“I know this guy who wants to know your name.” He says, and you’re a little confused. Boys weren’t even at the top of your priority list tonight but seeing as this wasn’t your usual spot, this could be interesting— and why the hell not? Right?
“Well do I know his name?“ You joke, but Hoseok looks like he’s delighted by the question.
“Only if you’ve listened to the greatest hits on the last ten years!“ 
“Yeah right.” You say, but you take him half seriously. Rich people could play jokes if they wanted to. 
~
You wish you could tell yourself that you were an absolute idiot five minutes ago. 
Hoseok was kind enough to persuade you to go upstairs, which kind of felt shady at first because the stairs leading up had way more security than the front door, but you went so anyway. It took a couple of quick turns with you catching glimpses of vaguely familiar faces of people you swore were on the runway or in some movie or on your Spotify recommended playlists, and he led you to a private booth at the very end of the floor. 
Sitting smack dab in the middle was, to Hoseok’s really vague honesty, was an insanely popular celebrity that has been racking up charts for the past ten years. You weren’t his biggest fan, but you’d be stupid not to know who he was.
Jeon Jungkook, sitting there, arm tattoos partially exposed because of the ridiculously expensive black button-up shirt he was sporting. Yves Saint Laurent, you were guessing, he was wearing something similar in a billboard ad set up near your apartment recently— and you knew for sure it made you look twice every time your eyes landed on the large metal thing. 
He wasn’t paying attention when you got there, a drink lazily being held by his right hand like a claw machine at an arcade - his gaze set behind him where the crowd danced below. The view was great here, Jungkook got himself another booth that was private enough and Yoongi-free.
“Hello? Earth to JK.” Hoseok fakes a cough to get his attention. Jungkook isn’t even startled, he smoothly acknowledges your presence. And you have no idea if it’s the snobbiest or the hottest thing you’ve seen. 
For some reason, he doesn’t intimidate you. Maybe if you were an avid follower or a fangirl, you would a hundred percent be pissing your pants right now, but you weren’t. You knew maybe a few of his songs, and that was enough for you to be cool in this very moment but not be an absolute ignoramus that didn’t understand just how monumentally popular this guy was. 
“Hey.” He greets you so casually, it’s like he’s met you before with how natural he shoots a smile at you. 
“Hi?“ It comes out more of a question than it does a greeting. “What am I doing here exactly?” 
~
Jungkook really doesn’t know what to say. 
Girls usually just giggle, sit, and expectantly look at him after he says hello and it’s all just easy going sex from there. Seeing you up close has an effect on him, you’re haphazardly tying up your hair with a claw clip you had biting on one of your free belt loops. You’d just asked him that question and you look like you’re waiting for a response. Hoseok had already gone back to the dance floor before the two of you could even be formally introduced, and before he could rat Jungkook out for basically asking him to pimp you up here so he could meet you.
“I thought I knew you from somewhere.” He lies, knowing his confident tone made him sound certain but your forehead moved upward in doubt. Fuck, you really didn’t belong here, you probably knew to read right through him.
“I’m sure you would have known if I were someone on your friends list.” You sing song, but an amused smile plasters your face and he knows you genuinely find this encounter funny. “Oh yeah! You’re super famous, of course you meet like five hundred people a day. Must’ve mistaken me for someone else!“ You actually facepalm yourself, creating a whole excuse for him instead. Never mind then, it seemed that you were giving him the benefit of the (celebrity asshole kind of) doubt. 
Jungkook would have made a solidly dumber excuse, but you’ve made up a far better one for him. 
“So we’ve never met before?” He asks you, selling the lie he was riding on like a wave.
“Last time I checked, Hoseok called me up here because he said you wanted to know my name.” 
“Just wanted to make sure.” 
You laugh, it’s the sweetest thing ever. He’s not sure if he wants to do this all the way that he normally would with every other groupie that wanted to try him out. 
“Y/N.” You say and he looks at you, fueling the hope that now bloomed in his chest. “If you wanted to know so badly.” 
Somehow, his brain goes on overdrive. Your name rings a million times over and over and over like a guitar riff being re-written over and over and over until each note was perfect. He isn’t certain what it is about you, but his mind has traveled a million miles over now and he knew this wasn’t like him at all. He wanted to know your name, how he’d say it through different times. 
Boy, he sure did.
~
Neither of you are sure how you ended up here. The Holiday Inn in Manhattan, facing each other sitting on the right side of the huge king sized bed. The cold from the air conditioning only settling in now, making your breathing staggered. You’re just looking at
each other, the long conversation dissipated when you both had nothing else to say.
You both talked a lot, whatever random shit you had to say to ignore the sexual tension building up from the moment he invited you to sit with him in that booth. The conversation was humorous, honestly a bit trivial, and really left out all the personal details from either one of you. It bordered on comfortable, but not too much to make it all feel rushed - not to impose closeness, no matter how curios you both were. 
“So.” You trail off.
“So?“ He asks you right back, mimicking your tone. It seemed a common theme tonight that you both knew what the other felt because you felt the same. 
“No funny business?” Setting your hands right on your side just a little bit behind your back, leaning on them for support, you wait for his answer. 
Jungkook is too busy staring at you, romanticizing each part to make you last in his memory forever. Trying to battle the haze of alcohol that could stand between him and remembering you once this inevitably ends as it usually did for him. He etches the expectant face you wear, how you obviously do not blend in his world but how he already imagines you in it.
He isn’t sure if the air conditioning is to blame but as your chest is on display this way, he can see the very outline of your hardened nipples. You’re tempting without trying, he thinks, anybody else would have very much taken off their clothes and his included within the fist five minutes in a private space. 
You’ve been in this hotel room for half an hour now, and he’s not sure how long you’re going to be together.
He leans forward, surprising you, and places one of his hands over one of yours. “Entirely up to you.” Jungkook wishes, he just wishes, you’d say you wanted him - but he didn’t want to assert anything. It seemed to him that the last thing he wanted to do was treat you like any other groupie he could have met tonight. 
Meeting you tonight was enough to keep him happy for a while. Granted he could try to keep you in his sights, he wasn’t entirely sure how long anyway. Subjecting a decent girl to last longer than a night in his life was unfair. He knew that. Jungkook couldn’t even keep up with himself sometimes. As much as he felt that you were different, he knew as far ahead as to know that it was dangerous to make this sustainable, it was wildly going to be unjust. 
“And if I want funny business?“ It sounds like you’re taunting him, but your eyes sparkle in an entirely different way from minutes ago. 
He holds your hand properly now, making a dip in the bed. “Well then I’ll have to know how old you are, sweetheart.” Of course, the elephant in the room. You looked young, maybe enough not to be part of his age group - but you looked tired enough to pass off as a reasonable responsible adult.
“Twenty-three.” You say like it doesn’t matter at all, but he’s only half relieved at your answer.
“You do know I’m turning thirty-one this year, right?“ He asks you for confirmation.
“I’m not that big a fan to know when your birthday is, sweetheart.” You say the nickname back to him - it worries him more that you’re cooler about this than he is. 
“I’m eight years older than you,” his free hand finds itself tucking the stray piece of hair behind your ear, settling on your cheek, “is that alright?“ 
You laugh a little, and he can feel the way your cheek swells through his palm. “We’re both old enough to know what we’re doing.” 
He knows this means you don’t mind, but when he relishes in your soft skin, he’s sure the callouses on his fingertips cannot compare to any of yours. You’re young, and it’s not like it’s the first time anyone younger than him poked any interest at him or slept with him before— there flocks of fans that could fill up that category easily. Maybe Jungkook fears you are too young to be something more than someone he just met.
Many things he found unfair flew past his head when you took the liberty in kissing him.
~
You’ve never had an encounter that made you realize your affinity for the removal of clothing. 
Slow, clammy, impatient hands - stopping ever so often to savor the moment of seeing hidden skin for the first time. Jungkook allows you to take his button-up off ever so slowly. It’s definitely not the air conditioning this time that’s making your mouth dry, no surprise that the man is built like a God; the gym routine and the celebrity diet definitely took a delicious number on him. It’s like unwrapping that fucking Saint Laurent billboard and finally understanding why you looked at it so much. 
Your hands just moving at the muscular expanse of skin, kiss getting even sloppier. 
The top you’re wearing is gone, and he quickly removes the flimsy bra you had on. Breaking apart from your mouth to gently suck on your breasts, a pleasured mumbling sound leaves your lips.
To him it sounds like heaven, and to you - his mouth is doing all kinds of things you never even knew were possible. 
In one swoop, your skirt is gone, discarded somewhere on the floor to be found later. You try to tell yourself to not get to excited with here his hands travel, and Jungkook is elated at the wet spot he sees on your panties. Not a very lucky day for you to choose white. 
“Can I get a taste of your pretty pussy?“ He asks, face dangerously close to your crotch. 
“Yes please.” You allow him, and he takes the liberty of pulling your underwear down.
You feel his breath, the sensation making it feel warmer on your thighs and you cannot believe that you’re about to be eaten out by a celebrity when you only wanted to party out tonight. The thought disappears when Jungkook runs his index finger quickly over your clit and at the entrance of your pussy, gawking at the wetness that glazed over.
“Oh, please.” You manage a whisper, your throat tightening in anticipation.
His finger goes inside you in one push, and his mouth latches at your clit - tongue skillfully generating pulses of pleasure. You manage to stay still for the most part, breathing irregular, fingers gripping at his soft black hair.
“So good.” He says in between, entranced by your reactions.
Whines leave your throat as he licks and sucks the nerve ending with greater pressure, finger going half in and half out each time. It doesn’t feel that long, but he’s able to make you cum by doing this. You’re a twitching moaning mess of a woman, losing your grip on his locks.
“Holy shit, Jungkook,” He climbs up and your hands go in straight for his belt to undo his pants, “I want you inside me, please.” The impatience turns him on, even more so when you are eager to kiss him on the mouth - tasting yourself in the process. 
It’s all so sudden from that point: the shock on your face when you see just how big he is, the condom packet being ripped in a rush to just get the latex thing on his length, the slow steady burn of his entrance. The sounds you make, oh the sounds that you make, how your hands are everywhere and anywhere they can get. Taking in his scent, and his head finding the crook of your neck from time to time. 
Jungkook fucks you with gusto, chasing his own pleasure and making sure he’s doing it at just the right pace and just the right angles, at just the right time. It’s calculated, you’re sure, it comes with his status. He obviously has had a lot of good— no great— fucking sex. 
Except when he’s fucking you it feels like he wants more than just a fix of pleasure; you do jot notice how his eyes notice every single bodily reaction with each action he makes. He’s learning about you, about your body, this way. He selfishly wants to make sure you’ll be fucked out, and you’ll only want him to do it to you forever.
He tells you this in chaste kisses and whispers throughout the night, but your mind is too hazy with all that’s good and sweet that you cannot put all his sweet dirty words together.
You cum multiple times, too much that you’d be tired to count. For someone much older, you don’t know if you should be shocked or impressed that his endurance has lasted a good chunk of the night before he emptied himself in the condom. The two of you only disentangle your bodies enough to take a good breather, you take a quick trip to the bathroom to pee and he discards the used latex in the rubbish bin near the bed. 
Picking up your underwear from a random plot on the floor, you prepare to clean yourself up a bit before you leave. You were pretty sure the night would come to a close this way.
But Jungkook protests once he sees, “no, please, stay.” A confused look sprawls on your face. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, right? Jungkook looks just as surprised by what he said as you are.
“I mean, spend the night. It would be terrible for me to let you go home at this hour and what bad would two naked bodies laying next to each other bring anyway? I’ve been inside you, this shouldn’t be weird.” He banters, trying to make it sound cool but he knows he’s rambling on just to get you to stay longer.
“Huh.” You hold in a laugh - a justification. You knew that two naked bodies laying next to each other meant the harm of something much scarier than sex. 
Intimacy. 
It is tempting, and he is just on the bed waiting and knowing you’ll say yes. Even fucked out with lips swollen and eyes obviously tired, you understand why people are so crazy over him. He’s just so handsome, it’s like all the air has been stolen from your lungs. 
“Just please don’t tell me you love me tonight.” You joke, and he only half laughs. “I can barely stand on my knees and my head’s all woozy. You know a girl can only take so much in one night.” 
You lay next to him, a vision to behold in his eyes. He leaves traces of love and question on the ink that settles on your arms, very small compared to the art he sports on his— but he’s convinced that yours are full of bigger secrets, heartier stories.
“I’m glad that I met you tonight.” He tells you, voice squished by the pillow. You face each other, legs tangled up and arms lazily resting on each other’s torsos.
A smile settles on your face and he tells himself to never forget what that looks like, and how it makes him feel trying to memorize everything he can about you, “I’m even gladder.” 
~
When Jungkook wakes up the next day, you’re gone. 
It’s half past noon when he fishes his phone out the pocket of his pants, groaning at the barrage of notifications all lined up for him to eventually answer. It’s when he turns to his side, trying to find traces of your sweet perfume that he notices that there’s absolutely no you in the room - none of your belongings to be seen.
Only a piece of hotel room paper placed carefully on top of the telephone used for room service on the nightstand.
‘thank you for one of the best nights of my life, Jungkook. i’ll see you around again, maybe.” 
Well, at least he knew you were real, and he guesses that he has to get on with his life because he didn’t know enough about you to personally respond to your note. 
Life goes on, he supposes, going back to check his phone and see what all the morning ruckus was about. For a Saturday morning, it sure didn’t feel like a restful weekend.
Soora (11:58AM): about to land in JFK, am i going to see you today?
Soora (12:00PM): you know what actually i’m going to wait for you to pick me up see u
Jungkook groans; his semi-usual hookup was expecting to see him and now he knows he’s obligated to go and pick her up and spend the weekend - or however long she’s in town for - with her. Soora was a model that Jungkook had the awkward chance of meeting through several parties and several fashion shows. Although the cliché had been treated more like a curse— he couldn’t help but dip his fingers into models, he was an entertainer. Relationships like these were practically inevitable. 
Except Soora had stuck around more than others. Probably because the rumors about them spoke well for her in numbers and people didn’t mind Jungkook being with her because it made sense. Two attractive individuals being spotted together more than usual didn’t hurt the eyes. Plus, it was still very good publicity. 
~
“Can you believe?” Seokjin rolls his eyes, scrolling vapidly on his phone instead on focusing on all the business papers he had stacked up on his desk.
“What can’t I believe?” You ask him, wiping down on the countertop. The after lunch crowd was easier to manage, only a few tables were taken and there was some downtime to speak to your boss casually without worrying a customer would be unattended. This gave you enough downtime to experiment on new recipes; your food blog needed an update. It seemed that you had a little bit of a following online now and people were pestering you for a new post.
“Well, I’ve been waiting for that Jaime Oliver cooking video on some stew and my entire timeline’s suddenly flooded with my favorite rockstar guy and his rumored girlfriend spotted in the airport just now or whatever! Nonsense!” He complains, still neglecting paperwork, and obviously interested in this new piece of celebrity gossip. Seokjin’s reading the contents of the article and you can see the reflection through his eyeglasses. 
“What you’re not a fan of the union?“ You laugh, brewing a new batch of coffee in the pot.
“What do you mean I’m not a fan? Of course I am! Huge! Major! Big big fan!” He says genuinely, and you can understand why he’s so riled up about this. “Everything about this would be peaceful if either Jungkook or Soora finally confirmed that they were dating.” He huffs, and you regret listening so attentively - lucky that you weren’t holding anything that would be so close as to become a safety hazard, because you were sure that you would have probably hurt yourself in shock.  
Your skin crawls with a weird feeling, call it premature jealousy mixed with nervousness, but you suddenly realize that the world is smaller and much crueler than it feels. That was correct, right? You did just hear him say Jungkook’s name.
So you just laugh it off passively, acting like you couldn’t relate to Seokjin who was still furiously reading and scrolling. You couldn’t blame him though, he didn’t know the reason why you clocked into your shift a bit late was because you just had the sneakiest walk of shame of your life after a one night stand with someone who, apparently, your boss was huge-major-big-big a fan of. 
It’s when your shift ends that you find yourself doing a quick shameless Google search of Jungkook. New recipe be unfinished and damned. Sure enough the celebrity profile is there with his hometown, his birthday, and the people he’s commonly related to search with. It feels unreal to see him like this all dialed in like a piece of meat for sale with all the measurable descriptions; he was a real warm body next to you last night that laughed along and spoke to you in detail.
The trending sticker on the upper right tells you that that’s Soora, an almost 30-year-old model that’s been heavily linked to him for the past year or so. There’s even a Buzzfeed timeline for their supposed relationship, and you’ve never clicked exit off an article so quickly in your entire life.
This was none of your business anymore, surely. 
Whatever was done was done last night and it was great. You thought that there was a genuine connection there but you didn’t belong in his world and he didn’t belong in yours. Reality had to catch up with you anyway; something like that was far from ever happening again. Jungkook probably didn’t care for you by now, and it was only right that he was taking some famous girl closer to his age out seriously.
You were probably a momentary conquest he was used to having, and that was that.
~
Soora’s gorgeous. Fairly speaking, she always was— it was literally her job to look like that. 
But for some reason, Jungkook just did not care for seeing her at all. Well for the first time ever, anyway.
She was fresh off a Paris fashion show, she still smelt buttery and bubbly like an after party would - and this was usually irresistible to him, but he kept on thinking about your powdery vanilla perfume and it was driving him just a little insane. He would just have to hope that there was enough of himself to spread thin for her; he had to admit that she was a great distraction. 
But then you were definitely distracting him from the distraction.
Jungkook is lucky that Soora doesn’t notice him drifting off as she tells him all about the other, newer snotty models that walked the show with her or the many designers she managed to impress when she managed to pull of some Alexander McQueen dress that he didn’t have enough brain power to imagine what it looked like.
“So what are your plans for your next show?” She suddenly asks him, and he’s quick enough to answer.
“Oh, I told my manager to hold off on my fashion show attendances. Working on some new music.” 
“No, I meant aren’t you going to play some sets? I haven’t properly been dangled off your arms for what feels like ages!“ Well of course her intentions are for the media coverage of it all, but he just smiles it off like she didn’t say something so bluntly surface level. “I heard there’s this great place in Tribeca where you can do a private show, get the pot stirring for the rich journalists in that neighborhood you know?“ Soora keeps on going.
The word ‘Brooklyn’ pops up into Jungkook’s mind, replaying you telling him that’s where you usually did your roundabouts of life - and the idea is planted in his head. 
~
It’s a Friday again, a week later. Nothing’s really changed about your life except now you have a troubling habit of skipping the random Jungkook song that would play through the diner’s Spotify account that was hooked to the lavishly installed sound system Seokjin poured money into. That, and holding your breath every time there would be celebrity gossip on your social media timelines - hoping it wasn’t an article confirming his relationship status. Suddenly, you felt even smaller - knowing you couldn’t escape the damned guy even if you tried hard enough. 
Joy’s in your apartment begging you to come with her on another night out, the fucking Jungkook billboard still outside and poorly covered by your blinds.
“Come on! People have been hyping this show up for weeks! Apparently some high profile people are gonna be there and I asked Hoseok to get us free passes to get in!“ She says.
If only she knew what Hoseok’s free passes to big places got you in for last week.
“I don’t know Joy, I’m kinda of not feeling it this time.” 
“Suit yourself, hot stuff. You know where to go if you change your mind though!” She says, simultaneously leaving your apartment as she texts you some address to an underground club you’ve heard of maybe once or twice before.
~
It’s a smaller, much more crowded, grimier, and a lot less glamorous than he was used to. When he hit the five year mark on his career, he started becoming more selective about his shows. A lot less touring unless they were big venues, shows were only done for special calls for huge bars he frequented or a fashion show that needed a hot frontman for an afterparty.
A dimly lit, spray-paint decorated, run down Brooklyn club was not his style anymore— but he figured, if this area was were you frequented then surely word would reach you if it spread that there was some high profile guy playing a low key show. It was a little out of reach, really. A shot in the dark. But if it meant a small chance at finding you, then it would probably be worth it. He wasn’t even sure if you were the type to go out all the time, but this was all he could do to try. 
“And that was Jeon fucking Jungkook!“ The guy who apparently hosted the joint announced into the scratchy speakers. It seemed that business was booming tonight; the place was jam packed because of Jungkook’s pop up show and everybody had their phone cameras around to get the information out on the internet.
His set ended, and he had to leave the place before he’d get caged in by the massive crowd of people spilling in. 
Jungkook’s security team already tapping his band from behind that it was time to go, but his eyes still carefully wandered around in the sea of people - hoping you were somewhere there. 
A claw clip, a white tank top, buttery soft skin, eyes that looked somewhere deep inside him - he tried profiling small things, sometimes stopping when he saw something that vaguely reminded him of you.
No luck. You weren’t here and he had to go. Now.
“I saw the same chick in red a while ago when we were getting our asses dragged out of there.” Yoongi tells Jungkook at the back of the limousine, drinking champagne out of the bottle. 
Jungkook feels betrayed by his producer tellling him this only now - if he saw your friend then it must have meant you were there and it would have been easier to find you. 
It seems Yoongi knew what Jungkook was going to ask next though, so he beats his friend to it. “And no, girl in the white tank top wasn’t there. Just the chick in red.” Yoongi clarifies for himself, and Jungkook continues being disappointed - opening another bottle champagne bottle dampened by the bucket of melted ice where it sat. 
Their car finally starts up after the security team cleared out the driveway out of the parking lot after storming the exit, Jungkook could see the glare of the camera flashes outside. The chattering noise of voices made by the paparazzi who kept throwing questions at the vehicle. 
He doesn’t know if he’s having whiplash, or the overwhelming amount of people mobbing him (surprised that he even held a pop up show in maybe one of the most run down strips in New York), but he sees something that surprises him. Shakes him a little in and out of his senses. 
Perhaps he was just imagining things because he desperately wanted you to be there, maybe Yoongi’s story fed too much into his brain and now he was seeing you in a sea of flashing lights and sounds of banging hands on the car’s metal exterior.
Right there, a little behind and among the photographers and the underdressed fangirls. You had a worried look on your bare face, knitted pajama sweater too big for you - sleeves spilling out. A worried and annoyed look on your face as you put your phone next to your ear, then a look of relief when you come to hug your drunk looking friend. The same girl in red that Yoongi found attractive.
Jungkook doesn’t get a last say; the driveway had already been cleared and you’re just another faded view in the background left behind by the car. 
Long gone again.
He wasn’t even sure if you were really there or not.
~
Joy called you at around 1:00 in the morning. A call you definitely expected since she went on this venture out alone, and she knew you’d stay up on a Friday night. Plus, the place she went to was a few blocks away. So you pulled on an extra sweater and stuck with whatever it was you had on and got to quick walking. 
God forbid you’d be the friend to abandon her friend alone, who was probably drunk and a bit hazy. 
Joy (1:03AM): @ the baaaclkk! back parkinf lot exit plss
It’s somewhat easy to decipher, so you make your route around the building. 
The not-so-pleasant surprise of people swarm around the exit, and you know it’s going to be a challenge looking for your friend when there’s a frenzy right where she asked you to meet her. It seems like the photographers were fighting tooth and nail trying to get their questions through the limousine that was trying to exit - and you couldn’t understand much with the skidding car tires, stomping feet, and hands making contact with car metal. Clicking and flashing sounds like a loud metronome behind mudded shouts. 
Guess you had to ring Joy’s phone to get to her. 
So you stand there with an arm crossed, a little nervous reflex at how intense this atmosphere was. Brooklyn sure was crazy but this was a little different than what you were used to.
A phone up to your ear and several rings later, Joy shouts your name.
“Y/N!” She looks a lot less drunk than you imagined, but with the never ending crowd you could see why she felt unsafe going back home.
You hug her, “let’s get out of here.” You point to the ruckus happening just a few feet away from you.
“Dang, I don’t think Soora was in the limo with him!” You hear one paparazzo complain to the other guy next to him, and it’s not like you meant to listen - it was just loud enough for you to hear before you left. Soora?
“Who’d you watch tonight?“ You turn to Joy once the two of you started walking.
“Jeon Jungkook played the pop up show!” She says so excitedly, “told you it was some high
profile guy playing!” 
Half of you regrets not going, and the other half tells you that it was probably best that you sat it out. You didn’t even know he saw you. 
~
“So all this and you didn’t get a last name? Not even an address, not her home phone number?“ Laughter floods Jungkook’s phone, two of his close friends who were also musicians were in some small get together in Los Angeles - and here they were demanding an update.
“Yeah, yeah, stop giving me an earful.” Jungkook complains, knowing the situation he was in was also brought about by his carelessness.
“So you saw her at the Brooklyn show?” Yugyeom asks to clarify.
“I’m not even sure that it was her.”
“Pfft. Well whoever you saw affected you enough for Soora to notice.” Jaehyun points out. “How did Brainwashed Barbie react to you ignoring her and ditching her for a Brooklyn show anyway?” He follows up with a question, showing the disdain he had for Jungkook’s publicity-boo-thing.
“Well, she told me I was a bag of shit and stormed out.” Jungkook laughs, half entertained and half bitter, “then I heard she told her manager to tip TMZ off that I broke up with her like an asshole.”
“Explains the media reception.” Jaehyun, suddenly enlightened, says.
Twitter was going crazy, calling Jungkook a heartless asshole - and he had to disable the
comment sections to his Instagram posts. He couldn’t fly to his friends now because he’d be mobbed at the airport, and he didn’t feel like partying all the unnecessary crap out anyway.
“So about your mystery girl.” Yugyeom starts.
“What about her?”
“You never thought to ask Hoseok about her, didn’t you?”
“Well, they were just dancing close to each other and I asked a friend to call her over. They probably don’t know each other at all.” It was pretty reasonable, and Jungkook thought that there was nothing more to it that night.
“I don’t know maybe it wouldn’t hurt to consider.” His friend says, and Jungkook looks over at his cellphone with contemplation.
~
“You good with that?” Seokjin doesn’t know what to call ‘it’— the baked good covered in a suspiciously pink glaze that you were currently holding up about a half a foot above a mixing bowl.
You’re unsure about it too; not sure why it turned out that color - but maybe you were too distracted by the TMZ reports on Jungkook that Seokjin decided to play on the televisions. It was another slow day with barely any customers walking in so you two had free reign to be awfully comfortable in the diner. 
“I’ll just set this aside.” You accept defeat, placing the thing on a cooling rack. Maybe it will have hope when you come back to it. 
Seokjin’s looking worrisomely affected by the news of Soora getting dumped through text - Joe Jonas to Taylor Swift style. “They had so much potential too.” He says like a tear is about to escape his eye. You snort behind the counter, and he’s still too busy being emotional to care. “Don’t you just look at these celebrities and wonder how they’re able to live like bachelors when time isn’t on their side? I mean, they’re only getting older and it might be time to I don’t know - settle?“ He actually asks you.
“I wouldn’t know, Seokjin. Maybe I’m too young to understand what rushing into that part of my life feels like.” It’s true, but it’s the only bitter truth coming out of your mouth. “Besides, there could be more to it than we know. They are celebrities after all, the course of life could be much different for them.”
“Had high hopes for them though,” your boss sighs, “I love me some highly sensationalized drama.” 
You laugh in response. “I know.”
~
“That’s all you got? She works at a diner, that’s it?“ Jaehyun finds this comical on the other end of the line.
“Well, I tried asking Hoseok nicely but apparently her friend Joy or whatever was too hungover to gloss on details and just said she worked at a diner and had a blog or something.” Jungkook responds quite fast, he was currently on the corner sidewalk of the expensive residential he lived in - hoping to catch a cab to Brooklyn to whatever diner he could get to. If only there weren’t almost hundreds of them in the area.
“So you plan on just wiping out all the diners in a whole metropolitan area? Brilliant. Never thought of you as a romantic Kook, but I guess she has you going crazy.” He knows that his friend means it in good will; support in pursuing a relationship like this was complicated and Jaehyun knew that very well. 
“No,” Jungkook was finally able to hail a cab, and he was hurriedly opening the car door, “I’m going to ask this kind driver where the best diner is in Brooklyn so fate can pull its surprises if it all seems right.” 
“Letting the Big Guy do all the string pulling then, huh? Good luck, man. Hope you’re lucky enough to find her.” Jaehyun says and the phone call ends.
“Huge fan of your music dude!“ A cheerful man maybe around Jungkook’s age drives the yellow taxi. 
“Thanks, uh, we’re headed to—“
“Where I think the best diner is in Brooklyn? Gotcha.” The driver obviously heard the tail end of his phone call, and Jungkook knew that it was desperate destiny from there on. 
~
“Hey Y/N, I know your shift’s like done, but there’s some guy up front looking for you.” Namjoon calls for you right outside the employee room at the back. “And Jin’s literally offering up everything for free to this guy— boss looks like he’s about to burst into tears.” Your co-worker says ever so nonchalantly like his personality is.
“Yeah I’ll be out in a sec.” You call back, setting your phone down - looking at your timeline flooded with Jungkook’s recently developed relationship drama.
Ignoring any indication from Namjoon’s description, you carelessly parade yourself behind the counter as you usually would - your hair mindlessly being clipped together as you work your way to tame the strands. Force of habit not to get anything in the food, your apron just a little loose and undone.
Nothing registers to you quickly, not even the way Seokjin is looking at you like you were a suspect to a crime and it was his life’s mission to interrogate this shit out of you.
“Hi.” Is what you hear, it hits you so fast and it makes you feel so dizzy. 
Jungkook is there, he looks distraught— the messy hair and the semi-rugged appearance shows this. It doesn’t make him look any less handsome than he really is though, and it feels like you’re seeing him in person again for the first time.
He looks at you, an apparition haunting his thoughts finally materializing to the real thing in front of him. Looking at him again, your sweet perfume enveloping his senses ever so slightly. He was fucking lucky that this was the first diner he was brought to, and coincidence be damned but Jungkook was convinced that this was meant to happen. And he finally found you. 
“Hi.” You parrot, unsure how this is supposed to go or what it’s all supposed to mean.
“I,” Jungkook pauses, “I tried looking for you, after you know… That night.” 
You can feel the blush creep up on your cheeks. “Right…” You say, knowing that he had more to say.
“I guess thinking about you drove me crazy and I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way before. You left me wanting to know more, and before I knew anything I pictured myself right next to you for a long time. I was too caught up with you that night that I was stupid enough not to ask for a full name or contact details. I know it’s a little crazy I was able to find you regardless of the fact, but I just wanted to know if you felt like thinking about me made you feel insane— because that’s how I’ve felt thinking about you.” Jungkook says all in one tired breath, he looks up at you with hope and you try to pinch yourself on the arm in case this was all a daydream. "I got out of a public stint of a ‘relationship,’ played a show on your part of the city to find you. Y/N— I even thought about the consequences and what we could work on if I found you." 
“Do you mean that?” Is all you can ask, your overthinking over seeing him all over the news reminding you that you were completely different people.
“God, Y/N, of course I do.” He runs a hand through his disheveled hair.
You try to look through him, not as an illusion of fame or the insecurities you had piling up. Neither of you were to say what tomorrow would be like if you were to work things out or not, but all you knew was that you felt the same and you were as equally crazy to see how it all would go.
“Are you sure that I was all you could think about?“ You ask him, this time a slight tone of teasing in your voice but it seems that he couldn’t detect it.
Jungkook looks straight into your eyes, and it didn’t feel like you were anywhere else in the world.
“I wondered if I’d ever see you again.” 
fin.
~
(author’s note! 
hello everyone! first fic i’m posting in years and it was driven by the hiatus announcement but also my recent obsession with this song and its music video.. i know i know the ending is a bit lack luster and there wasn’t a ton of resolve to the conflict i presented in the story buttttt i wrote it this way to potentially pilot a sequel if a lot of you want one! otherwise, i think you can pretty much picture an ending to these two anyway :p 
hope you had a good read!
-amoré)
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opaljm · 1 year
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i. legend of the lamp (m) – jjk
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➺ pairing: genie!jungkook x female reader
➺ genres/tropes: fluff; humor; smut; fantasy au; magic au; strangers to lovers
➺ warning/content tags: 18+; explicit sexual content: female masturbation (solo shower time activities, pro anal enthusiast y/n she wants it SOO bad but is very deep in denial); underwater sexual activities plz do not attempt at home you might drown (kissing, fingering, multiple orgasms, boob kink jeon makes his debut, he likes to bite and make it hurt but he also likes to kiss it better); sex in public (jungkook is an exhibitionist freak, y/n and jungkook give the ‘mile high’ club a new meaning, very mild food play, mean cocky jungkook shows up as expected, jjk's dirty talk is UNMATCHED, gross nasty jeon with the spit/licking kink, overstimulation, orgasm denial, the slightest bit of breath play/choking kink, impregnation kink is mentioned, possessive attention whore jungkook); sloppy cunnilingus with too much teeth tbh, finger fucking, there’s almost fisting but they both wimped out— there's always next time tho ;), forced orgasms, big dick hung like a fucking stallion jeon jungkook, unprotected sex but its fine cuz koo is a genie with fetus deletus powers, spanking, soft dom jk who degrades y/n like a CHAMP if it were a contest he would be winning a gold medal for it, jungkook likes to punish y/n until she can’t even think straight, standing up sex courtesy of strength demon jeon, praise thirsty competitive af constantly wanting validation jungkook, they both have a size kink let’s be real, reader has a strength kink throughout this entire fic she just wants to be manhandled and thrown around like she’s jungkook’s pretty sex doll, soft passionate sex, creampie, lovely aftercare from our cleaning fairy koo
➺ word count: 23k semi-edited but im too tired to actually do it properly :(
➺ summary: Jungkook has been serving his time as a genie for the last 2000 years, unfortunately stuck in a lamp for the last 200 years before he is woken from his slumber by a beautiful woman who somehow activates his lamp while making a wish that ends up letting him out. After eons of having to bend over backwards to make the desires of evil individuals from power hungry dictators to spoiled princesses come into fruition, he’s updated his contract to be more choosy over who the lamp allows to be his master. It comes to his great surprise that this woman was able to make the lamp work and that she only yearns to be loved and no longer be lonely. But all of the wishes he grants now have time constraints, another caveat he added to the contract, and he wonders what life would be like if he had never made that stupid rule. Because, as the week progresses, he finds himself falling deeper and deeper into her spell, pondering what it would be like if he never had to stop playing the role of her man. 
➺ author’s note: Sorry for disappearing after announcing a fic, I had a health scare which kind of had the domino effect of making me have a really shitty three weeks regarding my education and future and pulling me into a depressive episode (which yea turns out can be firmly blamed on the medication I've been taking because its a possible side effect). It's been a mess and a half but, I'm here, the fic's here (or half of it anyways). I hope you all enjoy it and leave some love 💕 Also, if I had known that all of that shit would’ve happened, I would’ve posted part one a lot longer ago, since you all know I had finished writing it a while back. I just kept holding out hope that I would be able to finish the entire fic in time but life got in the way of that. I hope that y’all don’t hold that against me too much! Part two will drop after Jimin’s birthday fic drop so I don’t fuck up that deadline as well! I’m under a lot of pressure as one of the hosts of his birthday collaboration. Please, please, please leave feedback for this story. Since it’s a two shot, your feedback is absolutely critical in helping my self-esteem about the direction of the story and flowing my creative juices for writing part two! 
This fic is a part of Namkook’s Moonrise Masquerade! Banner made by @kimtaehyunq​. Beta-read by @jimilter​ (miss girl helped out with the content warnings too we love her!), @ressjeon​, and @amourtae​ the lovely angels❣️
↳ second/final part | main masterlist
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Today has just absolutely not been your day. 
It seems like things went off to a rough start from right when your morning began. You woke up late because your alarm clock hadn’t gone off, and in your hurry to leave for work this morning, you picked out your outfit for the day half asleep as you attempted to brush your teeth and comb through the unruly mess that was your bedheaded locks of hair. When you spit out that white cloud of mint flavored foam, it got on your peach colored lavallière top, staining the silk pussycat bow. 
You ended up wearing a too tight black with gray pinstripes pencil skirt you kept meaning to donate to Goodwill, but never quite got around to it, and a silky white blouse that you had loved when you thrifted but then later had realized that the abstract black lines that made up its designs were not flowers like you initially had thought but were rather depictions of nude female silhouettes. The shirt is lovely; it’s certainly a statement piece and one that would look great on you on most occasions and would make for a darling ‘outfit of the day’ post on Instagram, however it is not exactly workplace appropriate attire for the public university where you work as an admissions counselor. 
But even with that little kerfuffle, you had not been too stressed early on in the day. Oh, if only you knew how badly the rest of the day would continue to be. As you went out the door, you smartly thought of snatching your black peacoat off the coat hook in the entryway, which could be used to cover up the sexually deviant positions the ladies on your shirt were contorted into. You ended up needing it too, after a mishap at the coffee shop in the student union left you with dark coffee dripping down your torso and making your shirt transparent as it clung to you with the wet sugariness of the shaken espresso seeped with vanilla syrup. 
Things continued to go badly during your appointment with an incoming freshman and her parents who wanted to pull her out of the university because of the trouble she had gotten into over the summer after graduating from high school. Your heart goes out to the girl after remembering how badly that conversation had gone and how despite your best attempts, neither you nor she could sway her parents’ made up minds. You weren’t even able to convince them to change her enrollment to an off-campus one where she could commute from her parents house, whereas she was previously an on-campus student with a room in the freshmen dorms. They wanted her to pay for her actions by going to community college and getting a part time job.
Making matters worse, you had almost thrown up the 6-inch Subway tuna melt you had gotten and now as you walk home, in your pinching heels, too tight skirt, and your peacoat hiding your stained shirt, to your apartment just two miles away on the far end of the glittering and bustling university village that was adjacent to one of the largest and most vibrant cities in the country, it starts to drizzle.
Normally, you do not mind the rain. Of course, your previous attitude of the rain was based on the fact that you did not have too many experiences of being wet like a drowning rat, caught in the middle of the storm without an umbrella or any sort of protection while wearing shoes that were not that slip resistant. 
You sigh as you continue onwards, wondering if maybe you should duck into the Target that you are passing to buy an umbrella. But you already know that Target will be out of stock, like it always is out of stock during unexpected bouts of rain because the students buy out the umbrellas, even going so far as to making the overpriced ones in the student store, that are in the school colors and have the school’s mascot imprinted on them bold and center, out of stock. 
When you finally do get home, you leave your wet shoes on the mat you have just inside the entrance, toeing them off and exchanging them for your fuzzy pink bunny slippers that are not only soft and dry but a huge and warm comfort to your freezing feet. You scamper your way to the opposite side of the apartment, sliding the glass doors that lead to the balcony open, and you hang your coat off of the backs of one of your iron outdoor chairs for it to dry, or at least keep it from dripping all over your apartment. 
You debate whether you should take your clothes off on the balcony too. You’re not afraid of university students seeing you; your apartment is out of most of their price ranges except for the richest of them all, but even knowing that, you don’t have a lot of fear since half of your balcony is covered in thin mesh privacy netting. The half of your wraparound balcony that is exposed to the elements is the part of it that you can access from your bedroom’s sliding doors as well. Not wasting another second, you quickly shed the offending articles of clothing off, just standing there in your fuzzy slippers and a matching black pair of Sabrina panties and brassiere from Honey Birdette. You regret your decision instantly as the transparent tulle and ribbons of lace do nothing to protect you from the blasts of wind causing the rain to drift your way but you fight through it. After letting those clothes hang to dry as well, you make your way back in, bypassing the living room to head straight for the shower. 
Your black underwear set clings to your body, you notice when you catch a glimpse of yourself of the giant mirror that takes over half the wall over your dual sink vanity. You see a figure with hardened plum colored nipples, covered in goosebumps, staring back at you. Her eyes widen from her surprise at how her body quivers even indoors and her hair is drying in messy curly tendrils around her ears. You look almost unrecognizable.
Flittering around the modern minimalistic styled bathroom, you busy yourself turning on the shower and waiting for the water to turn warm, as it always takes the pipes a moment to heat up. In the interim, you grab two fuzzy towels, one for your hair and one for your body, to throw over the glass partition of the shower since there are no conveniently placed towel racks. You also grab your fancy pink “cloud” face wash from the sink, which honestly does too little for its steep price point, in your opinion, and your A Thousand Wishes body cream from Bath & Body Works, that you had stocked up on during the summer semi-annual sale. 
By now, the water is finally hot enough and starting to steam up your bathroom a bit. You slide off your bra and step out of your panties before flinging them into the laundry hamper. Walking into the shower stall is a welcome respite after your long day. For a moment, you just stand there motionless, letting your eyes flutter shut as the showerhead jets water over you, soaking your hair completely and soothing your worn out exhausted muscles. You could pass out from comfort in the shower and that would be horrible but oh you understand now why some people are able to fall asleep in their baths. 
Your shampoo and conditioner bottles are the pump kind so you don’t need to put in too much effort to squeeze out the peony and amaretto scented ambery gold colored liquid into your cupped palm. Today is going to be a simple shower; you’re too drained to go into your whole hair routine with its scalp scrubs, serums, and hair masks, in addition to the usual shampooing and conditioning you do. When it's finally worked into your hair, making it foamy from how well you scrubbed it in, you let the shower wash your hands clean and let the suds disperse. 
Your shower gel is A Thousand Wishes scented too; you’re not the type to mix scents and give yourself a migraine when you can avoid it. Abandoning the loofah, you decide to run your soapy hands over your body for a quick clean. When your hands skim over your breasts and your long acrylic nude ombre nails catch on a nipple, instantly turning the already hard nub into a rock solid bullet, you stifle a surprised moan. Your mind whirls as you recover from the sensation. 
Even as fatigue clouds your mind, the world seems to get closer as your senses become hyperaware. Suddenly you can feel the cool stone underneath your feet that much more as your toes curl in pleasure from how it contrasts wonderfully with the warm water cascading over you. As your hands wander down your body, molding your palms against every curve and divot, the shower gel and water provides a nice lubrication, making it easy for you to slide your fingers over your body. You have to press harder to make your touches rougher, and the delicious friction that comes from those more frantic brushes make your voice catch in the back of your throat before it crawls its way up in the form of a delicious keen.
Oh, what you would do to have a gorgeous male manhandle you right now. You like it rough; you like a little bit of force that reminds you of the strength behind his muscles that you know he would never use on you but the idea that he could make your strength and size kinks come alive. Your hand now transverses over to your throat and you wrap your slim fingers around it, your long nails lightly scraping against the delicate flesh, relishing in the hold but sighing in frustration that your small weak hands can’t apply the pressure that you actually want. 
You’re single because the males you keep finding have no idea how to treat a woman in a way that makes her feel safe even when she wants to be utterly destroyed. A lot of it is based on trust and respect. The shitheads you meet? You wouldn’t even trust them to walk you home at night without angling for a kiss you don’t want to give. 
Abandoning the hand from your throat, you instead press your front side against the marble walls of the shower, pretending that it’s your lover who’s got you clinging to the damp stone and that his hands are dipping over your hips before going lower, wrapping themselves around your thighs in a way that has his thumbs pressing into the clefts of your asscheeks as he spreads them apart and the water from the shower flows into the puckering hole that is revealed. You hate the concept of anal sex but as one of your hands busy themselves in the front, plucking at your clit and fluttering across your folds as you tease yourself to the brink without any insertion, the other hand is working on your tight asshole, your thumb pressing onto it, flirting by only letting the tip of your thumb in before pulling away.
What you would do to have a big heavy cock stroke your ass, painting it with its precum, taunting the sensitive hole hidden between by pressing against it but not entering. Or for you to be on your tiptoes with your legs parted so that his cock could slide underneath, thrusting against the petaled furls of your pussy until he plunged into it from behind while you’re trapped between his warm slick body, his hard abdominal muscles and chest pressing against your back, and the cool marble, your nipples turning into stiffened peaks that are begging to be touched but finding no purchase against the slippery walls. It would feel almost claustrophobic, like you can’t move due to his delicious weight and like the only part of you that could move was your pussy, its walls clenching around him and clinging to him every time he slammed into you. 
With three fingers inside you, you can almost pretend that it’s real. Though, you know that at any moment you can move away since there's nothing actually trapping you into the position that you are in. You can’t finish though, your mind is your own mental prison, too cynical and realistic for its own good. You find yourself reaching up for the removable shower head and pulling it down. Your hand frantically clicks on the controls, increasing the water pressure. You debate if you want to do this standing up but you know that you will lose the feeling in your legs the second your explosive orgasm hits after being edged for so long. Thus, you slide down to a sitting position in your shower, your back against the wall, your legs folded up and spread apart as you position the showerhead right at your cunt, knowing that your clit will be getting the maximum pressure possible. 
You emerge from your shower ten minutes later with your legs feeling so jelly-like you have to grip at the walls to make it back to the sink to finish up your skincare routine and return the products that you had taken with you into the shower back to their original homes. 
When you feel squeaky clean and refreshed, bundled up in your favorite pajamas, a beige plaid set you had gotten as a white elephant present so they are very roomy and swamp your body, you finally deal with your wet work clothes properly and put them for a cycle in the dryer. You’ll likely have to deal with your Chinese Laundry peep toe pumps as well so that the leather doesn’t dry weirdly and make them crack in places but, that’s a concern for you in the future.
With a towel wrapped high around your head in a way that might end up giving you a receding hairline, if you don’t stop using that method to dry your hair soon, you step back into the main part of your apartment. Your eyes quickly go to the coffee table where it appears that your best friend had dropped something off while you were away at work.
There’s a bouquet of pink and white peonies that you immediately fix up in a vase with the proper amount of water, a square box covered in black matte wrapping paper with art deco style gold designs embedded into it, and lastly, a wine bottle in a gorgeous black and gold gift bag that compliments the wrapping on the box and has a matching envelope pinned to it. Before you sit back down on the plush comfort of your oat colored cloud sofa, you rip the envelope off from how it’s been stapled to the gift bag so that you can tear open the flap and get to the card inside. Reclining back, you narrow your eyes to read, having forgotten to grab your glasses from your bedroom dresser and having already taken off your contacts for the day:
Happy Birthday my darling Y/N! I hope that your 25th birthday is the most beautiful one to come so far! Wishing you nothing but blessings and good fortune on this beautiful day! Your present this year is one that surprised me as well but when I saw it, I was drawn to it instantly and the thought that it might be perfect for you abruptly flooded my mind! Can’t wait to hear your opinion on it!
Love, Safi
P.S. Don’t waste this wine by keeping it for a better day! Live in the now by cracking it open today and enjoying a birthday toast because today is just as important as whatever future occasion you’re trying to justify would be a better opportunity to enjoy the wine! (save the Sephora gift card for a rainy day though lol)
You laugh self-indulgently and look back inside the envelope where there is indeed a black $100 Sephora gift card before putting them all aside. You suppose you should listen to Safi’s advice even though today has not been a great birthday by any stretch of the words since it will be nice for you to unwind with a glass of wine. Pulling the bottle out you can see that it is a bottle of rosé, Gerard Bertrand Cote des Rosé to be precise, and the glassware is magnificent with the bottom of the bottle being designed in the shape of a rose with all its petals. 
The box lies unopened for now even if it’s your main present. You have too much of a one track mind and you immediately want to crack open the alcohol to let loose and make yourself forget about your day for just a little bit. You head for the kitchen cabinets and reach for the first drinking vessel you can grab, not too picky when it’s almost 11pm and you have to wake up at 6 in the morning. Perhaps Safi didn’t want you to drink the alcohol out of a coffee mug, in your most comfy sleepwear and a towel wrapped around your head, but it’s the best you can do at the moment. 
You nestle the bottle in the crook of your right arm, holding the mug in the same hand while grabbing the box with your left and taking all three objects out with you to the balcony. It takes you a little finagling to manage opening the sliding door but you soon make your way out where a light breeze brushes against your body comfortingly. Placing everything on the table you have outside, you head back in once more to grab your corkscrew from where it was misplaced in the junk drawer.
It’s not long before you’re back outside, sitting down and admiring the rainfall, which you are now able to appreciate since you are no longer soaking in it. It’s more of a light drizzle now and most of the clouds have dissipated, leaving only the thinnest types of stratus and stratocumulus clouds. In the heart of the city it’s impossible to make out any stars in the night sky due to the pollution and lights but you enjoy looking at the moon as you sip from your mug and let the rosé, which somehow managed to stay chilly all this time, slide down your throat. 
Your attention finally goes to the box and you carefully unwrap it, though you know that it will be unlikely that you will reuse the wrapping paper unless you take up scrapbooking again. Inside is a simple black colored cardboard gift box, and once you remove the top, you find yourself looking at a gorgeous antique looking hanji lamp though you know better than to think that Safi dropped money on an authentic Silla era lantern. You can’t even begin to imagine how much that would cost. Even still, as you turn over the rectangular structure in your hands, you find yourself musing that you would never dare to light the magnificent ornament. It was going to remain a purely decorative piece whose design and history you would appreciate from its place on one of your shelves. 
You find yourself holding it up to your face to get a closer look at all four paper sides of the wooden structure, squinting to make out the images painted on them though it’s difficult because you had forgotten to turn on your string lights and the moon is only a crescent, not providing much of a glow, so you are practically bathed in darkness. 
You scrunch up your forehead thinking of how nice it would be if you had better lighting, No sooner does the thought come across your mind, do you find yourself suddenly bathed in a luminous glow as a shooting star hurls across the inky black sky, painting it with a white blue streak of light. You have never in all of your years seen a shooting star flying across the sky so close to you and you immediately snap your eyes closed. You were never one to waste your time on wishes but maybe in between it being 11:11pm, the shooting star, and the fact that you have not made a birthday wish yet, one of them will work to make your desire come to fruition. It can’t hurt to try right? Maybe finally your deepest yearnings will come to life. 
Little do you realize, that as you make your wish, a little light is cast from the inside of the hanji lamp, warming it up with a small soft candle glow before it flickers out at the end of your wish. When you finally open your eyes and look down, of course you see nothing. That hope you had quickly vanishes as your cynicism returns and you find yourself painfully laughing in a self-flagellating way. You down the last of the wine in the mug and stand up, picking up all your things and getting ready for bed. 
Little do you know, you’ve just wildly changed the course of your life.
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While you’re asleep, a slow cloud of golden shimmery smoke begins to seep out from the lamp you placed on your dresser before sinking into bed and burrowing yourself under a mountain of blankets. 
A man emerges when the gold mist seems to have finally fully trickled out, building himself up from the cloud, becoming humanoid and corporeal. He is bare from the chest up, a golden chain around his hips marking the thing that holds him captive to the lamp and trapped under its control. His lower half is wearing loose baji brown trousers, the lower half of a hanbok that is the fashion of the Silla dynasty. It’s embroidered jeogori that’s a shiny silky white with gold embroidery is somewhere back in the lantern but he’s too lazy to get it now. Those are the clothes that he was entrapped in, so those are the clothes he is stuck in whenever he is kept inside the lamp. No one could blame him for whiling away his time in the vessel by choosing to slumber instead of waiting for himself to be let out again. 
Besides, as his gaze flickers over your modern style bedroom and he makes out a pile of clothing on top of a chair, he distinctly gets the feeling that he is no longer in the Joseon era, which was the last time he had been let out. Jungkook had gotten trapped in the lamp and turned into a genie when he was about 24, on the eve of his 25th birthday around 2,000 years ago, and has been paying for his mistake and the punishment that followed it ever since. In between that time and now though, he’s been let out of the lantern sporadically, over the centuries, every time it fell into the hands of someone who understood its power and wanted to make use of his abilities. 
But right now, his mistress is asleep and he is free, so he finds himself leaving the apartment, in search of what fashion and culture must be like in this weird modern time. He can’t escape her permanently, not when she has one wish left and his lamp in her possession, but he is free to wander while she’s not using him. It’s a little harder to define when and when she isn’t using him because of her second wish but since she’s unconscious right now it’s obvious that she cannot be requiring his presence currently. 
With nary but a thought, he’s suddenly on the streets in front of her apartment. He has no idea where he is; could this truly be Korea? Just because it’s past midnight doesn’t mean that the city is any less alive. He almost gets run over by a car, it’s impossible for him to get hurt given what he is, but his presence, with his feet over the line that separates the two lanes, spooks a driver who yells out a barrage of hateful language before manueving his gray SUV and driving around Jungkook’s body. Some of the comments are about a shirtless madman wandering the roads which makes Jungkook wince and even more impatient to get a change of clothes. They were not spoken in Korean which he won’t realize until later since he is gifted with omnilingual abilities that make him able to understand any and every language that exists or comes into being.
He wanders all the way to the shopping district where all the words are definitely not in Korean but using his mythical powers he’s readily able to translate them, understanding every language instantaneously. Whatever clothes he sees on the mannequins that he likes, he imagines them on himself and thus builds an entire wardrobe this way. His powers of manifestation come in handy giving him clothes that are perfectly tailored to fit his muscular frame which is paired with not only bulging biceps, broad shoulders, and thick thighs but a narrow waist too. He vastly prefers this power to his ability to make anything he wants be in his possession. Why not just make his own more perfect version than the store sizes of a men’s medium and large? Those cookie cutter sizes only account for his muscles but hide the rest of his body away under their expansive lengths of fabric. 
After his clothing shopping spree he sends all his creations back to his mistress’s home with a snap of his fingers and then begins his prowl for food. Genies don’t need sustenance and they can’t gain weight, though they can change their appearances if they wanted, but Jungkook loved food from his time as a human and he regularly uses his powers to let himself enjoy its taste, when he is out of his lamp, even though he can never make himself feel full.
His wanderings take him to a Korean restaurant that is open until dawn, and since food is the one thing he hates creating, he instead magicks himself the currency of this country, in this day and age, and bows to the ajumma who is working inside the establishment. He gets a table for one and orders a giant set of tteokbokki that has the maximum amount of heat allowed along with extra fish cakes and cheese, as well as three different kinds of Korean fried chicken: honey garlic, sweet and spicy, and barbeque, which are all flavors he has never heard of before, and finishes off with a clay pot of kimchi soondubu jiggae, a kimchi soft tofu stew. He only buys one beer knowing that the ajumma would get concerned over his tolerance if he had a dozen glasses.
When he’s done with all the food, he finds himself wistfully pining for the time when he was human and would have been truly able to not only enjoy but also appreciate this bountiful feast. After all, he had been born into a family of laborers, it’s why he had been able to grow so strong through hard manual work.
He finally returns to the apartment, but his work is not over. Unlike his mistress who can sleep blissfully having no idea what she had just done, Jungkook has long hours ahead of him to make her wish come to life in a way that seems believable and that she readily buys into by the time she wakes up. It’s not the hardest desire or demand he has ever had to complete but it will use a lot of his power, more than he’s used lately. And though he’s got an unexpendable amount of magic, he’s out of practice.
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When you rouse the next morning, you can instantly tell that something is different and it immediately makes your hackles rise up. It’s more than just the smell of fried eggs, apple sausages, and maple syrup permeating the air of the apartment, making its way from the kitchen into the bedroom, though you know that you live alone and have no one to cook you such an amazing spread to wake up to. 
The air feels different, like the energy of the universe had shifted somehow. None of that makes any sense and yet somehow it also does. You don’t know what you mean when you think that but there is no other way that you can put this sense of unease into words. When you open your eyes and look across the room you see a male lounging against the wall wearing a street style look with black and gray FILA joggers and windbreaker covering the length of his long modelesque body; there’s a black bucket hat hiding his blond locks. 
You let out a loud scream immediately, terrified out of your wits, and instantly pull your comforter up to your chin even if you had gone to sleep in a pair of pajamas that covered you as though you were a nun. The male narrows his eyes at the shrill sound but the look is quickly shuttered away when a small pleasant smile takes over his face instead. 
He walks closer to you and murmurs, his doe eyes shining with the twinkle of stars from a million galaxies, “Are you okay, jagiya? I’m sorry for surprising you with breakfast this morning but I missed you. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday since I didn’t get the chance yesterday.”
“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” you yelp, tightening your comforter even closer around your body, wrapping yourself up like a human burrito.
“Your lover, Jeon Jungkook,” the male calmly states, his eyes peering at you, not losing their shine as he looks at you like you had grown another head and are the crazy one amongst the two of you.
“I don’t have a lover named Jeon Jungkook,” you contradict, narrowing your eyes into slits full of suspicion. And if you did, you didn’t think you would call him your lover. Perhaps, your man, your boyfriend, or even your fwb though you weren’t really the type to dabble in such meaningless romps of pleasure, but not lover.
“Are you sure about that,” he silkily purrs, using his tattoo adorned hand to gesture to your gallery wall. 
Your eyes follow its path and you’re horrified to see the most adorable couple pictures, most of which appear to have been professionally photographed though some are cutely caught candids, of you and this ‘Jungkook’ together, staring into each other’s eyes lovingly while holding each other in an embrace that speaks volumes about passion and affection. 
“Would you like to check your phone,” suggests the male as well, his blond locks playing peekaboo with his bucket hat as his head turns towards your nightstand and he nods at the iPhone that had been charging on top of it. 
You instantly grab the device, unplugging it from the white charging cord and clutching it possessively to your chest before you finally work up the nerve to see what exactly he means. You swipe down to look at your lockscreen and it’s a live photo of Jungkook squishing his face into the side of your’s, rubbing the tip of his nose into the apple of your cheek softly. Mortified, you use facial recognition to gain further access into your phone and what you see leaves you even more bewildered. Your home screen is the most aesthetic that you’ve seen it: organized by using the IOS 15 feature. It’s blush pink and cream and the background image is a digitally manipulated picture of you and Jungkook looking into the bay from your perches on a bridge at the bottom of the image as the sky melts into a creamy pink color that's been altered to match the theme of your phone. 
At this point, you’re nervously holding onto your disbelief, so it’s with trepidation that you go into your camera roll to find hundreds upon hundreds of photos of Jungkook in an assortment of scenarios, from cute date night pics with you to dozens almost identical selfies where he’s trying out a variety of facial expressions from the same angle and in the same outfits to then even the embarrassing kinds that look like you took them on the down low when you thought he wasn’t looking. None of this makes any sense. But he looks so cute and kissable. You almost want to cry helplessly at the insanity of this all. What if he was your boyfriend? Life would be so much easier then.
You leap out of bed to go out to the front of the apartment and it’s even more confusing because there’s half a dozen pairs of chunky sneakers and boots with spiked soles that look like fashionable and weaponized soccer cleats on the shoe rack that’s by the front door— all belonging to designer brands and looking slightly threatening. It is clear that those shoes belong to a male, most likely this male, and they are all neatly organized to one side while your shoes, the shoes that you remember, are off to the other end. 
“This makes no sense,” you whine, rubbing your forehead frantically. Is this what hyperrealistic nightmares feel like? It seems as though you’ve been transported to the Twilight Zone in your opinion, and you just want to desperately get out.
“Would you like to call your mother and ask her about me?” Jungkook, his voice a smooth cadence as he unhelpfully directs the suggestion to your back. He had evidently followed you out back here. 
“What?”
“Your mother? We FaceTime her all the time. She’s really been pushing for me to pop the question for the last couple of months. Despite what she thinks, it’s really not that covert,” he scoffs, his lips flaring out into a pout. You note with bemusement that there is a small mole underneath the plush of his strawberry colored lower lip. How dare he have a mole in such a perfect location? Now your mind would never know peace until you dragged his lower lip between yours and sucked on that tiny chocolate chip. It’s actually deranged how your mind continuously chooses to flit between lust and rationality. 
“Jungkook?” Your voice takes on a shrill sound, “How long have we been dating?”
“As long as you want it to be.”
That doesn’t make any sense.
“Jungkook, please don’t mess around with me! How long have we been dating?” you demand more urgently. You are halfway to a full-blown panic attack and you need to calm down but nothing seems to be placating you about this entire situation.
The male walks around to step in front of you and then faces you head on. He keeps his hands to himself, crossing them while making sure that his fingers are folded and tucking into his armpits. He bends a little to look you in the eyes since he’s much taller, to peer carefully into your eyes that are slightly blown out from your constant state of shock and bewilderment. “Why didn’t it work?” he wonders.
“HAVE YOU BEEN GASLIGHTING ME?!”
“Well, not intentionally,” he muses, tapping a finger to his lip. God, even his hands are perfect. Each digit is long and tipped with neatly cut and perfectly clean fingernails. And they’re shiny too like he uses some type of cuticle oil. Not to mention how he’s got sexily protruding veins wrapping along the back of his hand and down to his wrist and arm.“I thought you’d be in on it. Could it be that it didn’t work on you even though it worked on everyone else in your life because you made the wish? My magic probably assumed that you didn’t need convincing since after all, this was what you wanted.”
Things make even less sense after his explanation even though Jungkook probably thought he was being helpful by providing it. Your eyes are narrowed in disbelief as you perturbedly shake your head.
“What are you talking about?” you hesitantly ask. You’re nervous because you’ve moved on from the idea that this is a hyperrealistic bad dream to the conspiracy theory that you have a crazy stalker who somehow figured out how to almost seamlessly integrate himself into your life and that he’s more than just the ordinary type of psychopath; this one seems like he’s the delusional type that thinks he has otherworldly powers. Wouldn’t that be just your luck: Jungkook is the first man you’ve been attracted to in months but he didn’t approach you like a normal person who wanted to pursue something.
Jungkook’s mouth takes on a pursed shape as he narrows his eyes at you, deep in thought; the coral red lips are scrunched together with the upper one flaring out. You can see the chocolatey brown mole right below them again and you are suddenly hit with the urge to kiss his lips until the frown is smoothed out.
“Do you have any idea what you even did last night?” he barks, his tone entirely too accusatory for your liking. One would think you had cheated on your imaginary boyfriend the evening before. He takes off his bucket hat in frustration and runs a hand through his blond locks, ruffling them. His jerky hand movements bring attention not only to the length of tattoos that encompass his arm but also its muscular veininess that had held you previously enraptured. You blink, you need to get dicked down soon. You wanted to give into Stockholm Syndrome way too easily for this man. Don’t do it, Y/N, no matter how hot Jungkook is, it’s scary that he’s in your house right now.
You rack your brain but come up woefully short. “I went to bed with only rosé as my dinner?” you hedge. You don’t think it’s that big of a deal although it’s definitely unadvisable to do. 
The male huffs, raising his right hand up before he snaps the fingers on that hand. A paper lantern appears, landing perfectly on his palm. Your eyebrows both raise because you recognize it immediately; it’s the lamp Safi had gifted you as your birthday present. 
“You made a wish for the perfect beau,” Jungkook explains patiently, “I made your wish come to life.”
“Can’t you undo it?” you push urgently. Why are you entertaining this mad man? Magic isn’t real, Y/N!
He excitedly quirks an eyebrow of his own, smirking as he takes in your look of bemusement. “Is that another wish?” he asks.
“No!” you swiftly interrupt. If you are in the Twilight Zone somehow, you need to be smart with how you navigate within this nightmare, at least until you figure out a way to wake yourself up.
“You only have one left, anyways,” he sasses tapping his plumper lower lip with his pointer and middle fingers, you’ve already noticed it’s a habit, rolling his big doe eyes, “I could kind of undo the effects of the wish by making its time constraint shorter so that it stops in the next five minutes but in my opinion, that’s just another wasted wish. So if I were you,” he says with a shrug, “personally I’d go along with it for the next ten days. We wouldn’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable but I would still be playing the role of the doting attentive paramour.”
You blink at him, your mind still sluggish from your wine hangover and terrible bout of sleep. “I only have one wish left?”
“Not the smartest of my mistresses or masters by a long stretch,” Jungkook agrees, teasing you, scrunching his nose to peer at you cutely. 
You gasp loudly, obviously affronted. Not the handsome weirdo calling you dumb. 
“Do I get three?” you question. Your mind is working on overtime today and it’s still taking you too long to understand things. You’d like to tell this Jungkook character that you graduated from the top university in the nation and have two degrees but you don’t think that he would believe you if you bragged and let that tidbit slip. 
“You do,” he nods, unhelpful as ever.
It kind of makes sense; you assume the purpose of genies is to manipulate their rulers into making all of their wishes as quickly as possible.
“Oh, you want me to tell you what your two used wishes were. Humans really are weak, aren’t they? Is your mind normally supposed to be so foggy after drinking so much?” He calls you out directly and you gasp; you suppose that genies don’t have manners. Or at least this one doesn’t, you glare at Jungkook’s untactfulness.
“I know one of them was to have you here,” as your boyfriend, you finish off in your head, too unnerved to say it out loud just in case that makes it more true, “but what was the one before it?”
“Oh! You wanted there to be light.” Fiat lux, look at you, and you thought you weren’t philosophical. 
You blink again. Nope, that doesn’t follow. You would never be so profound. What would a wish like that even mean to a genie? An increase in intelligence? For there to be less ignorant people in the world? Ah. Wait. You do vaguely remember thinking that it would be so nice if you had more light to see the markings on the lantern. But—
“I made my wish for a man on a shooting star,” you retort as a counterargument, trying to wheedle out of Jungkook’s covenant so that you’ll have an additional wish to add to your arsenal.
“Nice try,” snorts Jungkook. He’s probably listened to a thousand arguments by a thousand masters that have all tried to bargain and reason with him trying to manipulate him and exploit him for more wishes, “But I made that appear in the night sky. It was not fated to be there that night until I materialized it. It wasn’t real so it didn’t have the powers of a normal shooting star.”
“So shooting stars actually work?” 
He shrugs, “Sometimes. Wishes depend on the caster. Theoretically you can make a wish on a shooting star, a wishing well, your birthday, on a deity, etc. But you can rarely succeed at having a wish granted, much less by using the same method twice. And most people, if they’re lucky, only get to have one wish come true in their lifetime. It’s much more common for there to be no successful ones. Aren’t you lucky to have woken me up from my slumber,” he snarks, “you got three.”
“I made a birthday wish,” you faintly mutter rather dispiritedly.
He hears you anyways, “I don’t think it worked. Why not try again next year?” 
You ignore the snarkiness of his suggestion, “So you’re really my boyfriend for the next ten days.”
He nods. You squint at him, you still haven’t put your contacts on for the day and your glasses remain forgotten in your bedroom. 
“Can I ask you to do things? Like a girlfriend asks her boyfriend? Or does that count as a wish.”
“You can ask me anything. Whether or not I do anything is entirely up to me. I suppose I will be more courteous and mindful of your requests since I am playing the part of the perfect significant other. As long as it’s related to this wish, I will try my best to make it come to fruition for you. For example, if you wanted me to take you out for dinner on the rooftop of a skyscraper I probably would. If you wanted me to buy you a bunch of gifts or fill your rooms with flowers, I could do that too.”
“Why is it only ten days? I didn’t wish for ten days,” you inquire.
Jungkook smiles at you sheepishly, showing the first sign of less than suaveness. “As far as mistresses go, you’re not a selfish one but would you believe me if I told you that in the past only terrible people used to be able to draw me out of my lamp and make demands of me? As the years went by I added rules: only three wishes, no wishes have permanent effects, and only those pure of heart can awaken me, just to name a few.”
“Oh.” You don’t know what else to say.
“In ten days, your life will go back to normal. And even though you will always remember this, it will become more and more dreamlike and disconnected from reality as time goes on. One day you might even come to the decision that you had made me up and that I was a figment of your imagination. No one can hold onto the idea that this was all real for too long.”
“So for this week, everyone in my life is convinced we’ve been together for a while but next week they won’t even have known I had a boyfriend?” you conclude.
“You’ll wake up on the eleventh morning like time hasn’t passed at all; it’ll be like it’s today all over again but without me in all those pictures that stand as proof of a shared, albeit fake, history,” Jungkook confirms.
“But what will happen to you?” you worry. 
“I’ll be sticking around unless you make your third wish before then.” He looks at you hopefully but you snort in retort. “When you make the third wish, I’ll go back into the lamp and it will disappear from your life before the process starts all over for me. I’ll probably be sleeping until I’m let out again.”
“I wasn’t the one who found you,” you frown. “My best friend gave it to me as a birthday present.”
Jungkook's eyes widen marginally but you don’t catch how the genie appears momentarily unnerved, he shrugs it off to you, feigning nonchalance, “That doesn’t really matter because you were the one that was able to let the lamp open.”
You hum but say nothing. You’re distracted by the magnificent bounty of breakfast food that Jungkook has arranged on your tiny square table for four, not that you ever had to use all four of the place settings at the same time. You make your way to the dining area, edging away from Jungkook and the conversation, but as expected, the male trails after you like a lost puppy. 
“Do you have any plans for how our day should progress, mistress?”
“Please stop calling me that,” you blush hotly. You are the subbiest sub ever so it’s discomforting to hear you being referred to in such a manner even if it’s not in a sexual context.
“What would you like to be called instead?” Jungkook inquires, altruistically.
“Let’s just stick to my name for now,” you mutter, placing two fried eggs on your plate before going for the waffles. Jungkook should be glad you’re such a benevolent holder of the lamp, he says you’re pure of heart but you don’t know about all that, all you do know is, you won’t make Jungkook’s life any harder than it needs to be for the next ten days.
A light smirk paints Jungkook’s lips as he takes the seat opposite to you. “We can make our way to pet names and terms of endearment as the days progress.”
You choke, coughing and sputtering as a square of waffle gets lodged in your throat. But as your eyes water up, widening from pain and surprise, Jungkook smoothly waves his hand in a flippant manner in your direction and the waffle disappears immediately.
Gasping for air you ask, “Does this mean that when you’re finally gone I’ll be going back to choking and die a painful death?”
Jungkook scoffs, “Only the wishes I make come true for my masters have limits to them. And it’s a recent development I made to curb their usually evil desires. I’m very powerful. Everything I do has permanent effects. It’s why I’m locked up any time I don’t have an owner.”
You blink, gobsmacked. Somehow his arrogance is terribly sexy and it makes your pussy throb. 
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On the first day, following breakfast, Jungkook makes the two of you disappear and reappear in Malta for an island vacation and date. You’re in a panic, claiming that you can’t be in a foreign country without any identification, money, or clothes. But the male just rolls his eyes at your antics and reminds you just who exactly has been cast to play the role of your picture perfect boyfriend. 
You side-eye him now. He is walking slightly ahead of you to the left so that there is space left for you to walk beside him if you want to catch up but you can’t make up your mind if you want to. His blond hair is trapped under yet another black bucket hat which makes you wonder if he hates the pale color of his locks and he’s wearing a black Hawaiian shirt with white hibiscuses creating an artfully arranged pattern. His black board shorts have a 5 inch inseam and you’re wondering how it is that this thousands-of-years old mythical being dresses like an emo alt boy. Not that you know what two out of those three words mean. You assume it’s like a vibe from what the gen z college students that appear in your office tell you. Jungkook looks just like them. 
You’ve been wheedling Jungkook to reveal details about his own life but the individual has managed to remain tight-lipped thus far. He runs ahead to a street vendor to excitedly buy you a sandwich. The round leavened bread has a filling of potatoes, capers, tomatoes, and mozzarella. He hands you one of the diagonally cut slices before bringing the other half to his mouth.
You hold it in your hand bemusedly, at a loss of what to do with it. You had quite literally finished the meal he had prepared for you half an hour ago. Side-eyeing him once again, this time enviously, you sigh; you can’t eat like he does because unlike him you do not have magical powers and if he continues to feed you like this, you’ll gain 30 pounds by the end of the 10 days. And you could ask him to keep you from gaining weight but that would probably count as a third wish instead of being an extension of his boyfriendly duties.
“Are you ready to see our lodgings?” he asks, a droplet of olive oil, that the sandwich had practically been doused in, glistening on his perfectly coral colored Cupid’s bow.
You give him a look that wordlessly states ‘lead the way,’ and follow him as your walk takes the two of you before a two story condo located on the waterfront. 
“Can I ask you a question,” you start off.
Jungkook interrupts you immediately, knowing just where your head was going, “I did not make the apartment appear out of midair. It was conveniently empty and I planted a thought in the owner’s head that he had rented it to us.”
Okay first of all, that was not what you were going to ask. “Are you going to pay him?” you demand self-righteously.
“Why?” Jungkook deadpans, “The timeline will be reset soon enough.”
“I was actually going to ask you,” you tread carefully, though apparently not delicately enough because the male’s hackles start to rise and his gaze turns into one that is more filled with suspicion and distrust. You plow ahead anyways and repeat, “I wanted to ask you why you were going along with this.”
“Because it is your wish.” He says it with such simplicity, his face as expressionless as his tone.
You sigh frustratedly, “Yes but—am I making you uncomfortable? You don’t have to pretend to be my lover. I have to admit I wasn’t thinking that this would happen when I made that wish.”
“So, did you have a male in mind then?” Jungkook’s expression turns even more grim as he shutters away his emotions. His large dark brown eyes are impassive for the first time since you’ve met him and you’re starting to miss the shine of those doelike lenses.
“Well, no. But, if I wanted my fake boyfriend to be Kim Namjoon, could you do that?”
“Who is Kim Namjoon?” He sounds so affronted, unable to believe that you could prefer anyone to him. Huh. You had the feeling that Jungkook was a cocky self-aggrandizing genie but you hadn’t realized how much until now.
“My celebrity crush.”
“What is a ‘celebrity’?”
You stare at him blankly, “So you weren’t out in the twentieth century either, huh?” 
When he frowns at you, those cute lips of his curving down, you hurriedly tack on, “It doesn’t matter, anyways. I just asked because, well— We don’t have to be ‘lovers,’” you quote Jungkook from earlier on in the day. “What if we just hung out as friends for the next ten days?”
“I would like that,” admitted Jungkook. “Although I’m not sure if that actually fulfills your wish.”
“Why not?” you pout. “What was the explicit wording of my wish, anyways?”
Jungkook looks away without answering you and then wordlessly marches towards the front door of the condo, expecting you to follow. 
The inside of the two storied structure is very rustic but clean. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of clutter, which you appreciate, but you wouldn’t call it minimalistic. It had a beachy European vibe to it with furniture pieces that had probably seen their prime in design in the late 90s. You actually like the old school feel of the place; it makes it feel more authentic. The place has about four bedrooms but Jungkook tells you that the two rooms the two of you will be sharing are right next to each other. 
When you walk into the place where you’ll be sleeping tonight, you are met by the sight of a white painted metal bed frame that has a lot of curlicues making up the headboard. The bedding looks comfy and clean which is always nice and the box springs and mattress look relatively new, providing a nice height and plumpness to your bed. There’s a massive pile of shopping bags and boxes stacked against the wall and you can only wonder if your attractive genie companion had gone into the trouble of making sure you would have a variety of clothes and necessities on this trip.
As you fiddle through the tissue paper hiding the contents of a bright orange Louis Vuitton bag, you are puzzled how Jungkook is both on top of and out of the loop when it comes to the 21st century. The male is on top of fashion but not famous people and you wonder what else he knows or is woefully oblivious about. You put on a cute russet brown bikini set that looks gorgeous on your honeyed skin; there is a large gold hoop connecting the two halves of your top as well as two matching hoops on the sides of your hips. You are currently pulling on a pair of Louis Vuitton shorts with cute pockets that are lined with a gold colored zipper and are almost the exact same shade of brown as your swimming suit but covered by the familiar and iconic pattern of interlocking LV’s with flowers in white, teal, orange, and light brown, just about having buckled in the cute strappy belt that comes with it when your door is unceremoniously thrust open. 
You stand, jaw slackened in surprise, as Jungkook walks into the room looking so colorful that you blink to make sure it’s actually him. His hair is now the pinkish red color of cherries and he's wearing a yellow T-shirt that has an opened shirt that looks like a white baseball tee over it, though the fabric is more airy and lightweight; the sleeves of his yellow top are tucked into the sleeves of the white one. He’s wearing navy blue swimming trunks and you love that he turned out to be the type of male that sticks to 5-7 inch inseams rather than wearing shorts that go down super low and cover his knees like you know so many men in your acquaintance to do. It baffles you; don’t they realize how ugly it makes their outfits look? 
Jungkook snaps his fingers to make a pair of black Ray-Bans with gold frames cover your eyes to match the ones tucked into his soft red hair and you notice the multitude of beaded bracelets adorning his wrist. 
“I haven’t gone to the beach in years,” you proclaim excitedly. 
Now that you two have settled that he’s a genie and you’re his mistress who gets to call all the shots, there is a sense of calm over the two of you and this wayward situation that you’ve thrusted the two of you into. He’s not acting the role of your boyfriend. He’s just someone you’re on vacation with and it makes it so much easier to relax when you keep that in mind. 
You eagerly reach out to grab his large hand in your much smaller one to tug him along with you, back outside of the condominium so that you two could eventually make your way to the beachfront. The male gives in easily, he engulfs his hand with yours and you can feel its warm heat cupping you comfortably. You give him a happy smile and proceed to pull him along with you which is much easier said than done because Jungkook finds it hilarious to drag his feet and stand his ground on the gravelly cobblestone streets so that he can laugh at your feeble attempts at strength as you try to move him. 
Jungkook is bored at the beach. You scowl at him. He’s being a party pooper, acting like a black hole that’s bringing down your excitement and sucking it all in. He has no idea how to relax. You had told him as much when he sighed as he sat down next to you in the little area you made him create for the two of you. There’s a cute blanket for the two of you to lie on and an umbrella if you no longer want to be in the sun. You even got him to materialize some books for you (you just had to tell him the author and title) but from the looks of his displeased frown when he discovered that nearly all of the books have raunchy covers, Jungkook’s not thrilled about your little omission. 
You glower at him. The blanket is massive with enough space for the two of you, yet Jungkook sits so close beside you that you’re almost halfway to the sand as you hover near the edge of the cloth. You slip your shorts off and put it on one of the beach chairs next to the two of you before flopping down again. You turn your body around so that you are facing the beach as you lie on your stomach, your elbows propping you up so you can read the third book of the Bridgertons series. 
“God, Jungkook,” you goad, “If you’re not going to do anything, can you apply my sunscreen on me?” It’s in the little tote you have with you.
Jungkook scrunches up his face as he scrutinizes you from behind the lenses of his matching black sunglasses. You had to put yours back on your head because you couldn’t read anything with how dark they made the page appear. “Why don’t you put sunscreen on me first?” 
“Jungkook, you don’t need sunscreen!” you whine. “You’re a genie. You don’t have to worry about the dangers of skin cancer and UV rays.”
“It’s amazing how often I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he muses as he huffs at you, going into your bag to pull out the sunscreen.
Perhaps because he’s unused to applying sunscreen on, you doubted the Joseon era (which was the last time he had been out) Koreans did because you were pretty sure it was invented in the early 1940s, he squirts what feels like half the bottle on your back. You screech at the cold aqueous feeling of the liquid as it trails down your figure approaching the barriers of your cute bikini top. 
“Jungkook!” you yelp. “Untie my clothes! It’s going to ruin them and leave ugly chalky marks on the fabric, you asshole! And you’re supposed to blend it into my skin so there’s no white cast.”
Jungkook places his hand against your back, cupping the deliquescent lotion and trapping it beneath his massive palm. One handedly, he undoes the tie to your brown string bikini, leaving your back bare as the cloth protects your minimal modesty in the front only. Ignoring what you had said about getting your bottoms ruined, he doesn't remove them, though you have no idea why. There’s not anyone near you on this long stretch of the coast. Instead, he just tugs it halfway down your ass. 
He moves his body so that his knees are straddling you on either side but since he’s lightly perched on your thighs, your uncovered ass is mere centimeters away from his crotch and when he moves to make sure that his hands are covering every inch of your revealed body with the sun block, you swear you can feel something large poking you at times.
His touch is feather light as his fingertips ghost along your back making you arch into him. His finger traces along your spine, making you keen lightly as you bite down on your lower lip to keep him from hearing you. His palms knead at the knots in your body as you still at the sensations he is pulling from your body. He’s being perfectly respectful, his hands stay on the length of your back, not moving under to canvas your breasts or slip down your hips or drift along the plump curve of your ass, yet somehow you are still mindless under his dexterous palms. 
Your eyelashes flutter closed, your eyes no longer able to focus on Benedict Bridgerton’s love story, as Jungkook massages the white cream into your skin with his strong hands. The male pulls his lip between his bunny teeth as he frowns when he hears your attempts to conceal the sounds that he is coaxing out of you. 
“Jungkook,” you pant out nervously, fearing how much further this can go if you don’t put a wise stop to it now. 
“Hmm?”
“I can do my legs,” you suggest. 
“Ah okay, Y/N,” he agrees. “But do you really want to spend the whole day reading that?” 
His face is twisted into a grimace as he glares at the upside down book you half opened to hold its place. 
“What do you want to do?” you ask getting up from the blanket and grabbing the bottle of sunscreen before squirting some on your hands to go over all the areas Jungkook hadn’t gotten around to.
“Do you want to go scuba diving?”
“Have you ever gone scuba diving?” 
“Of course not,” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “But I’ll try everything once.”
He whisks you two away to the Maltese island of Comino once you’re ready to call it quits at the beach. When you’re finally with the group of people who are getting ready to scuba dive with the instructor, suiting up and paying attention to the directions so they’re safe as they start to explore the reefs, lagoons, and underwater caves, you start to panic.
“Jungkook,” you mumble, edging closer to him and tiptoeing so you can whisper into his ear. The male turns his head to look at you, moving closer and instantly stooping down so you can easily state your piece. “Jungkook, I don’t feel comfortable scuba diving.”
“I’ll keep you safe, Y/N.” God, did you wish for the perfect boyfriend or what? Maybe drunk off her ass Y/N had something going for her. Even before, you had been tempted to make things get sexual as he was running those powerful hands over your pliant body, but you had managed to barely control yourself and keep yourself from shoving Jungkook down on the sand to climb over his body. It had been so nice of him to do that for you, very boyfriend, or as Jungkook would probably say, lover-like.
“Yes, I know,” you pause, deep in thought, before you continue, “but I don’t want you to limit your enjoyment because you’re so busy looking over me, trying to keep me from accidentally killing or maiming myself. Can we like do something a little more tame... like snorkeling? I don’t want to go so deep into the water.”
He gives into you easily, it doesn’t even take him a second to think about what you’re asking from him, and he readily transports the two of you onto a boat where a snorkeling class has already began to put on their masks and flippers before they make their ways to the edge of the boat to jump off. 
After watching the humans struggle putting on the equipment for ten or even fifteen minutes each, Jungkook decides it’ll just be easier if he does it for you so you don’t have to worry about if anything was worn improperly or unsafely.
He thinks you look adorable with the giant clear goggles; your long mane of hair squishes to your skull where the straps of the mask are pressing into your head and the lenses magnify your eyes making them look cute albeit a little bug-like. He quietly commands you to stop fiddling around with the snorkel; he knows you’re worried but he doesn’t want you to mess around with the pipe and accidentally disconnect what Jungkook had correctly set up for you. You’re waddling a bit in your large black and indigo flippers, attempting to pull your shorts off and get the holes through your suddenly enormous feet. You trip and Jungkook catches you, holding you against his bare chest because he had gotten rid of his clothes as well so he would only be in his swimming trunks.
“You okay?” he softly inquires, keeping you trapped within the heat of his comforting embrace. 
You can only squeak your reply, distracted about how his massive palms are so warm and almost entirely encapsulate your waist as he holds you up against him. There is something cool and metallic digging into your skin and your hand brushes against it. Was Jungkook wearing a waist chain? The male flinches away from your hold, stepping back instantly. 
“No need to worry about the jump or the water being too cold,” Jungkook murmurs, blatantly ignoring whatever had happened seconds ago, “I’ve got you.”
And in a flash, the two of you are underwater, surrounded by so much clean liquid that you can enjoy the greenish blue hue of the ocean and yet make out everything with such clarity. 
You frown when you notice that though Jungkook put on flippers he didn’t have a mask covering his face and making him look as distorted and ugly as you felt. It was so unfair; you have to look unattractive so you can breathe and not die submerged in the sea but Jungkook looks like a model with the water lifting his red locks and making them swirl around his head. Though he doesn’t want your eyes to focus on his waist, your gaze is immediately drawn to it, shifting their focus from the clean cut muscled edges of his eight pack, just barely able to make out the gold band that sits snugly around his bronzed skin, kept in place by the minimal flare to his hips, due to how your vision is slightly warped and distorted by your goggles. 
Jungkook reaches out to grab your hand, his long fingers wrapping themselves around your delicate wrist and he gently pulls you towards him, his lengthy legs swiftly flapping along as he propels his body around the water, taking you on his guided tour for one. Swimming side by side with Jungkook, you follow him deeper into the half submerged caves of St. Maria, your eyes taking in the mesmerizing schools of snappers and sea bream swimming around, ducking in and out of view when they travel around sandbars. You flinch into yourself, pulling away from Jungkook when you see a moray eel but the male just giggles, air bubbles releasing from his mouth as his chortles continue, his red hair a darkened burgundy cloud around his ears. He softly tugs you back to him and pursues on with the two of yours sea adventure. 
You gasp and clap excitedly when you see several cuttlefish and even a sand colored octopus, eagerly pointing it out to Jungkook, who only smiles when he notices your hand slip out of his again and then swims closer to the octopus to ooh and aah over it. Eventually, the snorkeling guide asks for everyone to come back onto the boat so that they can direct it over to a ship wreckage where you all will be allowed to go back into the sea to get a closer glimpse at the German minesweeper. 
The rusting boat is a little deeper than expected and you find yourself hesitantly waddling your legs in the water to keep yourself in the same unmoving position, while the rest of your class energetically flaps their legs to swim towards the ship, swimming further into the depths of the Maltese sea. Jungkook looks back at you from where he had gone to follow the crowd, his lips jutting out as he purses his lips, deep in contemplation. 
His eyes narrow as he looks at you consideringly though you’re absentminded in your persisting fear and have not become aware of his gaze in your direction yet. He smoothly paddles back to you, holding you with his warm palm pressed against the small of your back. You look up at him and shiver. 
Do you want me to help you? You know I wouldn't let you drown or have anything bad happen to you? You purposefully screw and unscrew your eyes shut, trying to make sense that this powerful genie possesses the ability to broadcast his thoughts into your mind because the two of you can’t speak in water. He probably has a more equipt way of dealing with that too but was choosing to exert less energy.
You nod brusquely and the male transports the two of you right by the wreckage where the rest of the class are enthusiastically swimming around and admiring the ruins of the World War II ship. Jungkook gently presses on your lower back pushing you forward to encourage you to explore the minesweeper on your own but you back up pressing yourself into his front, not even leaving an inch of space in between you. 
He looks down at you indulgently, tucking one of your wildly floating locks of hair behind your ear, as his hand moves away, it caresses the side of your cheek, making its way down. As you let out a longing sigh, he grips the underside of your jaw, tilting your chin up so he can remove the mouthpiece to your snorkel before he swoops down to capture your lips with his.
You’ve been yearning for his kiss since the moment you woke up and found your eyes enraptured by those pillowy coral colored lips, and Jungkook does not disappoint. They taste like mint chapstick and coffee as he hauls your body against his, one of his brawny arms locking you into his hold while the other works its way up while he winds his fingers through the drenched locks of your hair. As you continuously gasp in between every short kiss he slots over your lips, your hands travel across his broad shoulders and impressive back where you can feel flexing bundles of muscles beneath your fingertips. 
Tiring of the small abrupt pecks, Jungkook pulls you up, your legs instinctually wrapping around his hips as you meet him for a more impassioned kiss. You enthusiastically part your mouth, welcoming him and his tongue licks its way into that wet cavern, twining around your tongue as you both fight for control. You’re weak to the way that his lips mold against yours with its firm pressure, fitting against you perfectly. As you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tight, Jungkook moves his hands to cup your ass, fitting you more perfectly against him. He gropes your butt fervently as your fingers snake themselves into his luscious locks. 
You can feel his curious wandering hands roving across the planes of your body as you lean deeper into the kisses, gasping when Jungkook releases you to let you catch your breath. But even then, your lips are still attached to his as he busies himself with nibbling on your plump bottom lip, not wanting to waste a single second. His fingers find themselves into the hidden space between your cheeks, gripping on them softly to spread them more apart and then he runs his index finger across the seam, traveling from your clenching asshole to your fluttering core. Your pussy gushes more and more with his every pass over it, not that he can tell with you both underwater. But surely he can sense that your clit is becoming more sensitive and engorged with the minimal simulation, eager for more. His fingernail catches on that little bud his next pass over and you moan loudly against his lips before accidentally biting down on the lower one impassionately. 
When the two of you break apart, he leans his forehead against your nape, licking over his bitten lip tasting the faint flavor of iron and sea salt. It stings a little, if he wants to be completely honest. But with a simple burst of his powers, the pain is gone and since Jungkook already has his face pressing against your neck, he uses the opportunity to dart his tongue into the shallow pools of your collar bones, lapping at them softly, his tongue moving across your throat to manipulate whines and keens out of you. Even as he does this, his focus is split and he finds himself nudging your copper colored bikini bottom to the side as he reveals your pussy folds to one of his questing hands. 
Jungkook grows daring as he nudges at your pussy with nimble fingers, thumbing your clit and pressing down hard enough to make you wail. His fingers dart across the furled petals leading to your throbbing core and he ghosts those appendages, letting you feel the sudden sensation of fullness before it’s swiftly gone like you imagined it. You’re writhing in his arms, sound travels differently in the ocean but he selfishly doesn’t want anyone to see your eyes rolling backwards as your mouth opens wide in an ahegao type expression. 
A red flush covers your tanned skin, travelling from your décolletage to your throat and Jungkook finds himself capturing your chin in his firm grasp. His thumb swipes at your lips repeatedly until you finally part them so he can shove it inside all whilst jutting two fingers in and out of your cunt deliciously. You gag around the appendage, saliva trailing down your lips and painting the sides of your mouth as you struggle to acclimate your body to the brutal and hectic pace of how he thrusts his fingers in and out your folds. 
With Jungkook’s promise to keep you safe, you don’t have to worry about sputtering and choking on salty sea water, instead you’re doing so on his thick fingers which are a pale and slim imitation to how his cock will feel in your mouth. With your focus so frayed and with him dead set on making you go mindless with lust, Jungkook turns his focus to his mouth, nipping his way down the neglected column of your throat, until he gets to your cleavage. Jungkook chooses to bite down on that golden circle connecting the two halves of your skimpy bikini, pulling at it with his bunny teeth before letting go again to have the swimwear bounce against your skin, stimulating your nipples and making them harden into beads. He kisses and tongues your breasts through the moisture resistant fabric, growling in frustration at its thickness that inhibits his abilities to inflame you even further. He nabs it between the hold of his clenched teeth and tugs, pulling at your top until only one cup is left maintaining your precarious modesty. 
With one of your breasts free from the cloth, Jungkook wastes no time to wrap his lips around it’s stiffened tip. His agile tongue swirls itself around, laving the hardened bud, and he gently nibbles at it, making you reflexively nip at his thumb. He has you wrapped around him both figuratively and literally, and he divides his attention, never forgetting to incite your pulsating pussy with forceful pumps of his appendages as he sucks on your breasts and lets you suck on the fingers to his other hand. There’s something about gagging on Jungkook’s tatted digits that has you raggedly inhaling through your nose and falling apart at the seams at all the attention your body is under. 
When you finally cum, you sag against him; your top is halfway down your abdomen and one of its straps is dangling by your elbow. Your eyes are still blown out from lust but you’ve calmed down somewhat though you're desperately trying to catch your breath, counting on Jungkook’s inexhaustible strength to hold you up beside him. You seem to be completely unaware of your surroundings and how the other snorkelers swim closer to the two of you since you are both breathless and a little disoriented from the heated kisses, and more, that followed.
Fortunately for your unsettled self, the male isn’t standing idle as you are, trying to make sense of your surroundings. He fixes your bottom so that it no longer digs into your soft curves and repositions it so that your pussy is completely covered. You float in the water and let him manhandle you like you’re his pretty doll, letting him secure up your bikini so your breasts are no longer exposed. He even reties it in the back for you before he puts your snorkel back onto your mouth. But as he does so, he bites on his lower lip, sucking his cheeks in as his eyes hold a glimmer of something that he’s trying to hide from you.
You irately raise your eyebrows at him as he finally lets out the laughter he had been holding in, in the form of a breathy chuckle. Sorry, it’s nothing, his thoughts are once again intruding your mind, it’s just I forgot you were wearing your cute goggles, that’s all!
Immediately you are still as mortification takes over your body, a frown adorning your features. And just like that, the moment is broken and you are no longer under his spell. 
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In the afternoon, you two walk around the beachfront of where your condo lies, tired after scuba diving and wanting to engage in some low level, minimal effort tourism. Well, you’re tired; Jungkook has a boundless expanse of energy. He’s like an excitable puppy who takes on everything he sees as if it’s his first life although you know it’s not. But you suppose, if you were kept in a prison regularly for upwards of hundreds of years without any idea when your next chance at freedom was, you too would make the most of every opportunity that presented itself to you. 
Jungkook claps every time you pick up something that suits you and immediately buys it for you, flitting between acting the role of a supportive best friend and a sexy sugar daddy, but you’re into it, enraptured by the duality that suits him, giving him a cute glow to his dark brown doe eyes. After you end up with too many souvenir bracelets and little knick knacks, even a little pouch to hold your phone and money, though you aren’t likely to call anyone or need to spend any money during the next ten days, you cut Jungkook off from getting you anything more. You beg off for a chance to relax, maybe even take a midday nap which isn’t something you’ve done since you were in high school, before getting ready to go to the night time date that Jungkook promises will be even more spectacular. 
It’s about 6pm, and you’re all glammed up for your date with Jungkook. He’s taking his job of wooing you super seriously. You dimly wonder whether all genies are as competitive as Jungkook, striving for a 100% satisfaction guaranteed (which he certainly had done in the turquoise water earlier in the day). You had asked him about it during one of the rounds to the small kiosks around the open air bazaar, if you got to fill out a customer service report at the end of this entire experience. The male had narrowed his eyes at you, a slandered look of affront taking over his face as he wound up his arms together tightly and pointedly stalked away from you.
He seems to have mellowed out however. You could have sworn you heard him singing lightly as he went around his room, immersed in his tasks, talking to inanimate objects like the Disney character that he was. However Jungkook is a little bit petty, and had decided to withhold the location of your date tonight from you which left you with no idea of what dress code to aim for. 
You think you did pretty well, all things considered.
Your thick locks have been washed to get rid of all the salt that clung to them after your snorkeling excursion and you have it slicked back into a sleek half up half down hairdo that doesn't have a single hair out of place. Meanwhile, your makeup features smokey eyes and dark currant colored lips since you wanted your glam look to have an edge to it. 
Your outfit is made out of the contents of the packages and shopping bags that Jungkook had lined the wall of your room with, earlier in the day. You’re wearing a skin clinging Versace mini dress with a plunging neckline that barely covers your ass and is covered in glittery burgundy colored sequins. It makes your rack look fabulous which is only being held up with some nude bra pads, sticky tape, and sheer pleas for divine intervention. Meanwhile, your ass looks scrumptious and perky like you just got a BBL on this Maltese vacation. There are long strappy black Saint Laurent heels wrapping around your legs and lengthening the limbs making you look like an Amazonian queen. Gold Harry Winston hoops adorn your ears with a slim gold chain from the brand dipping into your cleavage while an assortment of rings from Chanel and Cartier adorn your fingers and offset the gold love bracelet banging against your left wrist. To put it simply, you look like a Goddamn fucking catch. 
After making sure that every detail to your look is perfect as you gaze into the full length mirror in your room and attempt tugging on the skirt of the Versace dress one more time, you leave your room to knock on the door to Jungkook’s room that is right beside it. 
The male opens it instantly, almost like he was waiting for you to knock and his jaw slackens a little as he takes in the full, lethal, image of you in your micro mini, with the tumbling dark locks of hair falling over your shoulder and your legs looking like they would look perfect over his shoulders with the strappy sandals still on, their thin stiletto heels digging into his back as he pounded you into blissful nirvana.
Like always, you remain oblivious to Jungkook’s ravenous and coveting glances. Mostly, it’s because you are similarly distracted. His hair is no longer cherry red or the blond that you think is its default; rather, Jungkook has long cobalt colored locks that get darker towards the roots framing his face suavely. He stands in front of you looking gloriously tall as he wears a slightly loose fit dark colored blazer that reveals a white tucked in shirt underneath and black cargo joggers to soften the formal look to his outfit. His black Prada Chelsea boots make him tower over you with their giant imposing soles. He has a few earrings in and a silver chain hanging from his neck that makes you wonder if it will clink against your nude body if the night ends with another bout of heated sexual exploration. When he offers you his hand, you notice that he has a few bands adorning his fingers as well. 
You allow yourself to get pulled into his embrace. He tucks you against his chest, your bare back hitting the soft cotton of his T-shirt, the fabric is so thin that you can easily feel the heat of his body and more importantly, every hard ridge of muscle. The waist chain is there too and you have figured out that it is probably what keeps Jungkook bound under the lamp’s control. No wonder he hates it.  
His arm is securely pressed against your waist, squeezing you lightly. He’s in a good mood and you are too. You’ll just ignore the fact that he’s an immortal and that he’s not actually yours. You two can play pretend for nine more days. While you sigh and your eyes softly shutter shut in contentment, he dips his chin into the hollow of your collarbone before he whisks the two of you away to the dinner that he had planned for the two of you.
You blink in confusion as you take in the new sight. 
The sky is turning purplish blue in the evening and from the looks of it Jungkook has just taken you to an empty construction site. There’s nothing but excavators, front loaders, and a bulldozer in your vicinity. The skeletal metal outline of a partially made building explains the presence of the class 8 vehicles. 
You gingerly step out of Jungkook’s hold, walking a full ten feet away before turning back towards him. Your head is cocked and your freezing fingers are gripping your hips as you place your hands on them. “Can you kill your master?” you whisper yell back at him hesitantly, “Is that allowed?”
Jungkook rolls his eyes before he scoffs, “No, it isn’t. Not that I would want to,” he side eyes you, “yet, anyway.” 
He says it lightly as a joke, obviously, but you let out a dry laugh of, “Ha. Ha. Ha,” to match his heinous sounding cackles as you glare back at him, full of indignation as you hold your ground, extremely nonplussed. 
“Get over here, will you?” he hisses, “Our date isn’t even here; it’s over there.” 
He points to a crane on the left and you squint in the direction, still baffled. “I don’t get it.”
Jungkook sighs with displeasurement before he transports in front of you and grabs you by the waist again. Within seconds you are transported to what appears to be a dinner table attached to a crane and Jungkook has already gotten you seat belted and safely harnessed into your seat. And to your even greater surprise, his comfy blazer is covering your arms, enveloping your body and keeping you warm as Jungkook’s discernible scent of delicate florals and rich sandalwood overwhelm your senses. 
He sits next to you because the table is long and rectangular and this is the only way to be close to each other. You have to twist your body to the left to face him but you don’t find yourself minding when you notice that there is a lovely grin on his kissable mouth and a lock of dark blue hair falling into his face that he doesn’t move away. The waiters as well as the safety instructors of this sky high restaurant suddenly reappear, from wherever it was that they were hiding, to bustle around the two of you, breaking the spell you had been under, hypnotized by Jeon fucking Jungkook. 
They fill up your wine glasses with a 1967 Burgundy and water, placing two baskets between the two of you that hold a variety of French breads. Jungkook gazes into your eyes from beside you, his palm pressed against his cheek. “Anything you want to try?”
You blink, flustered, as you take on the brunt of the heat from those glowing chocolatey orbs. You don’t think you have ever been in such close proximity to Jungkook while under such a thorough perusal. Your eyes immediately slide down and you focus your attention onto the menu that had been placed before you. Almost all of it is in French. 
You happily hum when you notice there is seafood, choosing to order the Moules-frites, mussels on a shallot and white wine sauce with shoestring fried potatoes. You murmur your request to Jungkook and he calls the waiter over to tell him your desire for seafood. Perhaps inspired by you, he orders salmon en papillote with beurre blanc, sauce vierge and sauteed asparagus. It sounds fancy but it’s just salmon wrapped in parchment paper that Jungook cuts open in front of you with a side of tomatoes dressed with vinaigrette, the French white butter sauce and asparagus. 
The two of you dig into your meals vigorously and you almost forget that you’re on a date as you sigh after every bite of the scrumptious meal that brings tears to your eyes over how amazing it tastes. 
Jungkook chuckles softly next to you, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so happy.” There is almost a wistful tone to his remark.
You lick a drop of the white wine sauce off your lip before tapping your mouth with a cream colored cloth napkin. “Well, you’ve only known me for about a day,” you tease. “But I love food.”
“I do too,” admits Jungkook. You knew that. You had spent more time around food and eating today than you did over most weekends that you had off. And it was always so much food. If anything, you would’ve been surprised if he had said he hated eating and that it was just a necessary task he had to partake in to continue to be alive like some of the gym bros you knew. This time the wistfulness of his tone is more evident and you easily catch it in his words. 
“You can’t enjoy food?” you inquire, sharply. You’re aghast. You could never imagine living such an abhorrent half-life. This was primarily one of the reasons that you were anti-Edward during the Twilight craze of the 2010s. You would never give up on the pleasures that came from eating to exchange it for a life of drinking only blood for sustenance.
“I don’t need to eat food to survive,” admits Jungkook forlornly, “I can’t enjoy it at all; it's just mastication for me. Like I’m chewing on sawdust covered in spices. But I still do it. It’s the only way to remind me of my humanity. And it looks so good. I can smell it but it tastes like nothing much and I can’t savor it at all.”
You quirk an eyebrow silently. This was the first hint you had gotten into Jungkook’s person. He used to be human once upon a time. You don’t want to rock the boat so you don���t hedge for more details. 
“That’s horrible,” you cry out instead, visibly livid on his behalf. “Would it help if I ate for the both of us?” 
He laughs again and pushes his salmon towards you, “Only because I know how much you adore seafood. You won’t be able to get the wine or dessert away from me though,” he warns. 
You just grin at him and he returns a lopsided one at you, his eyes crinkle at the corners softening his gaze as his dimples make an appearance for the first time. You gawk at him, mesmerized by his gorgeous features. He’s so handsome. You wonder if he was this handsome before he was a genie or if being a genie amped up his attractiveness so you would fall under his lure like a siren with her prey. Nah, with your luck Jungkook was probably born looking like Adonis. 
You two eat in comfortable company, the conversation ebbing and flowing freely. You tell Jungkook about your job as an admissions counselor and the terrible guilt you feel when you can’t help one of your students accomplish their dreams of graduating from one of the best four year universities in the nation. Jungkook oohs and aahs while also making sounds of dismay at the appropriate moments. He’s a great listener; he’s super involved in the conversation and makes you feel important as though what you’re sharing deserves to get heard. You’re not sure how much of it is an act he’s putting on for your benefit to fulfill your wish and how much of it is him going above and beyond, but you greatly appreciate it. Today might just be the best day of your life. You’ve been treated like a queen the entire time. 
In exchange for sharing your little anecdotes you beg Jungkook to share something with you to keep the repartee going. With a groan he gives into you, and animatedly chats to you about the time he had a vampiress find his lamp.
You gasp loudly, “Vampires aren’t real Jungkook!” you can’t stop laughing. It’s a good thing you weren’t chewing because you would have spit out your fancy dinner all over the pristine white table cloth.
He wags his eyebrows at you with a cocky smirk painting his lips, “Oh? Are you sure? I mean I’m a genie, Y/N. It would make sense for there to be other magical beings besides me. I wasn’t born into existence as a genie, I was created.”
“Yeah,” you murmur softly, is this your moment to ask Jungkook how it had all begun? “Jungkook, I—”
 “Monsieur, mademoiselle,” one of the servers had returned with your desserts in tow, intruding on your conversation, “crème brulée à la lavande.”
He places two leaf shaped cream colored ramekins in front of the pair of you. You hum in astonishment as you take in the delectable looking lavender infused crème brulée with the browned sugar crust and the decorative buds of lavender on top. It smells faintly floral and you just know that when you taste it, your tongue is going to be in heaven, tasting the delicate yet complex layers to the dish.
Jungkook smirks at you cockily before he spoons up a sizable scoop of the crème and pulls it into his mouth, his lips pursing around the utensil until he sucks off all the dessert on the ladeled part. He hums his pleasure as his tongue rolls around in his mouth, sucking in the taste of the rich cream and the sweet sugar that is roped through it. His eyelids turn heavy and you have to suck in a breath when you realize this is probably what Jungkook would look like if he ate you out and was savoring the taste of your juices on his velvety lush tongue. 
You’re flustered but you can’t let him have the upperhand. You pick up the little dessert spoon and tap on the sugar crust, cracking it softly before you carefully scoop some of the confection onto your utensil, making sure to get both the hardened sugar and the smooth cream underneath.
You moan around it as you close your mouth with the first bite. You’re in heaven, you’re not sure you have ever had anything that was quite as rich or decadent as this before in your life. The velvety texture of the crème brulée swamps your tongue while the sugar melts into it from the heat of your warm, lush mouth. Your senses are heightened as you can taste every single ingredient that has gone into the dish and you inhale sharply before letting out another soft moan of satisfaction.
You wrap your lips around the spoon as you twirl your tongue around it to make sure you’ve gotten every last bit of the dessert off of it before you release from your mouth with a light pop. There’s a gossamer thread of spit connecting your lip to the spoon so you quickly dart your tongue out to break it. The male next to you shudders lightly, his breath hitches raggedly as he glares at you with hard eyes that have gone dark from the heat of his debauched desires. 
“Y/N,” he warns, groaning lightly, his tongue nearly poking a hole through his cheek in his irritation.
“Hmm?” you reply with faux innocence, determined to play with fire tonight. You don’t want to get burned tonight, oh no, you want much much more than that. You want to get consumed by the flames that have Jungkook within their hold.
You continue to eat up your crème brulée slowly, savoring each and every carefully scooped spoonful. Your tongue rolls in your mouth after each bite as you try to lick up all of the cream from the crevices before you go in for the next spoon. You’re not playing up your reactions by any means; it’s so delicious and rich, meant to be relished. And Jungkook is, figuratively, eating up all of the noises slipping between your plump sugar covered lips. His jaw is tight, lips thinned into a harsh line as he heatedly glares at you.
“It seems to me like you want something else to draw out those little pathetic sounds from your throat,” Jungkook grates, “until, perhaps, they are full blown moans of ecstasy.”
You still when you feel his long sinuous fingers gripping into the soft flesh of your exposed thigh. His palm is feverishly hot against your skin and Jungkook takes advantage of the fact that you’re wearing a mini dress to push your thighs apart and slip his hand in between. 
“Ju-Jungkook,” you stammer, letting your spoon clank against the ramekin where there’s still more than half of the dessert left. Your hands go to where his is cupping your cunt through the diaphanous black mesh thong you’re wearing from Agent Provocateur, you pull at his arm and attempt to take it off but you’re unable to shake the grip he has on you as his fingers stroke lines against the seam to your cunt through the thin, ineffective barrier of your panties. The pad of his index finger runs its path up and down until your pussy lips feel swollen, the folds sensitive and inflamed, as you slowly wet the mesh material until it’s practically invisible from how drenched it becomes. 
“What are you doing?” he hisses, his tone both gruff and lethal. “Get your hands off of me.” 
Your insides warm as you get aroused from his harshness and you let your hands fall off from where they were still attempting to pull him away. You already had a flush from the wine earlier heating your skin but now the blood crawls up your chest and rushes to your cheeks for a different reason.
“Don’t you have a dessert to eat, Y/N?” Jungkook mocks, pausing his fingers’ wickedly dexterous pursuit.
“I-I,” you stutter, “Y-y-yes, Jungkook.”
Your body was turned 90 degrees so that you could face him but when he raises an eyebrow that means ‘Get on with it,’ you instantly turn back around to properly face the dinner table and pick up your spoon from the ramekin with a shaking hand. You scoop up some of the dessert into your mouth and nervously close your lips around it, hyper aware of everything that is happening around you, on the tether hooks as you wait with bated breath for Jungkook’s next move.
He pinches your clit, invoking a squeal to slip out of your mouth as your walls flutter around nothing, clenching in dismay. “Why so silent, Y/N? Aren’t you enjoying your dessert? I think I’m going to feast on you though.”
“Mmpfh,” you moan behind clenched teeth, hurriedly swallowing down the velvety cream and spooning up another bite to place into your mouth, “It’s so good, Jungkook,” you gasp breathlessly.
“Good,” Jungkook grunts into your ear, he’s halfway out his chair, his body stretching over the small distance between your seats. His chest is digging into your shoulder and he has an arm, the one whose digits aren’t currently focused on stroking you into madness, wrapped around your back so that he can slip it around the front and hold your neck in it’s grip, squeezing it lightly in warning. Your breath catches in your throat and you gulp, able to feel every cold curve of each individual metal ring on his fingers lightly pressing into your skin. 
“You want to keep eating, Y/N?” Jungkook murmurs, hot breath tickling your ear as his lips brush against it before he pulls your delicate lobe between his teeth. 
“N-No!” you protest.
“Oh?” He quips. His voice has gone low and raspy, the tenor of his tone licking flames in the pit of your stomach, causing your nerves to tingle from anticipation, “Got something else in mind for dessert, princess?”
You pause hesitantly. The words are stuck in your throat.
“Go on, Y/N, tell me what my bratty spoiled princess really wants for dessert,” Jungkook growls, removing his long nimble fingers from the wet heat of your cunt when you don’t answer him.
Your hands immediately fly down, pressing down on his to keep it trapped between your warm palms and your waxed, bare mons. “You, Jungkook. You,” you wail, “I want you for dessert.”
“I thought so,” murmurs the genie silkily. He removes his hand from your throat, his thumb rubbing circles into the delicate flesh before his fingers move away to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. He unwinds his arm from around you, choosing to grip your chin, tilting your mouth up before meeting your lips in a fervent messy embrace.
It’s more desperate than sensual, a frantic clashing of lips as your tongues tangle with each other and your teeth almost knock against each other from the brutal force of the kisses. Jungkook drags your plump lower lip into his mouth, his teeth lightly nipping on it while he sucks until it feels raw and battered. His hand is tangled into your hair and he’s gripping on those locks tightly to maneuver your head in the exact position he wants. You ignore the pain erupting from your scalp as your palms freely roam the length of his upper body, slipping under the thin cotton T-shirt he had on to rake your long acrylic nails against his warm, muscled back. Your fingers travel up to his broad shoulders, gripping them under his shirt until you leave little crescent indentations from your nails on his flesh.
Jungkook shifts his lips from yours as he leaves you gulping for air, struggling to catch your breath. “My fucking selfish princess has bitten off more than she can chew on her quest to feast on everything she possibly can,” he murmurs, his hot breath fans over your cheek before he softly nips on the plumpest part of it. When you gasp at the sting, his tongue immediately darts out to soothe the pain as he licks up the side of your face messily. “Baby, you made a deal with the devil for these wishes,” he rumbles.
Your dress barely covers your chest which hectically heaves as Jungkook trails suctioning, bruising kisses down the length of your throat on the path to your breasts. The shimmery wine red cloth is barely hanging on to you as your hardening nipples struggle to keep them in position acting as the only thing holding them in place. The slippery cloth has almost fallen down several times, and you are millimeters away from suddenly exposing your entire upper half to the birds that are flying around as you sit on your sky high dinner date.
Jungkook’s strong agile fingers pull at the fabric as his mouth finds the large exposed expanse of cleavage available to him. He gently presses his lips on your soft warm skin before he parts them to leave hard open mouthed kisses on your breasts. When he’s finally able to get a strong enough purchase on the dress that he can pull it down to your waist, he deftly plucks the nude silicon pads off and flings them into the night sky before wrapping his lips against one of your hardened peaks.
His fingers are strumming at its twin while Jungkook sucks and sucks at your nipple like he thinks that he can get it to leak if he tries hard enough. That thought makes you still. An impregnation kink? You had never thought of it before but the thought of Jungkook fucking you with the sole purpose of breeding you and making you round and luminous as you carry his children, your breasts large and your curves plumper and softer than before has your heart beating loudly and erratically in your chest.
“Hey,” he complains when he notices you've gotten sidetracked in your thoughts. He bites down on your furled bud to draw back your attention, “Where did you go? Someone’s getting greedy. Do you need more, princess? Do you need me to do more so you’ll pay attention to me?”
“I,” you stammer. But Jungkook ignores you, he uses both of his hands to maneuver your skin clinging dress over your hips and then he tucks two fingers into the thin ribboned band of your underwear, pulling it away from your heated skin until the delicate mesh falls apart from his use of force, getting ripped straight off of your cunt. His jaw absentmindedly falls open a little as takes in the sight of your glistening pussy folds. 
“Oh, baby, you’re so pretty,” he murmurs. 
He plunges his middle finger in, going deep within your core as he curls it up, pumping within you so furiously that you can hear loud squelching sounds coming from your gushing pussy.
“Jung-Jungkook,” you whine. You need more. You need to be stuffed. “Jungkook, I can take more!” The last word comes out as a scream when he suddenly thrusts his ring finger and pinky inside you too. All three digits are assailing your insides, your core tightens around them, clenching hard but it doesn’t stop his intensity as he makes a complete mess of your pussy, wetness gushing out and dripping on your seat, trailing down your parted thighs. 
He has the side of his face pressed against your chest, your stiffened tips poking harshly into his right cheek as he glances downwards at the wreckage he’s created from the fruits of his labor. Your head is bent with your chin tucked on top of his crop of dark cyan hair, your long tumbling locks of hair falling forward to hide your expression as Jungkook makes you lose your mind underneath him.
“Your clit is so swollen, sweet girl, do you want me to rub it?” He asks, turning towards your breasts, rubbing his face into them, his nose tickling the valley between them. 
“Yes, Jungkook,” you urge breathlessly, “Please.”
His thumb and forefinger pinches that little sensitive bead, rolling it in between them before rubbing it side to side in a rapid, furious pace. “Or maybe it’s still not enough,” Jungkook wonders, “Do you want my head buried between those thighs as you ride your way to release or do you want my cock pounding you into submission, baby?”
Your mouth is hanging open, you can barely think, let alone put together a string of words that will have Jungkook satisfied with your reply. “Jungkook,” you pant, “I need—”
“Monsieur Jeon?” the waiter inquires after returning.
You still immediately, your head bending even further to conceal your body with your hair though you are already covered by Jungkook’s body on top of yours.
“Yes, Pierre,” Jungkook murmurs, not moving his face away from the comfort of your breasts. You hadn’t even realized that had been the name of your server.
“If you and mademoiselle are done with your dinners we can take you back to the ground.”
“Yes, thank you, Pierre. We would appreciate that.”
“I will go inform the team,” Pierre acquises, “Would you like for me to get more wine as we make our way down?”
“I think we are fine for now,” assures Jungkook. 
When the staff finally leaves you push Jungkook off of you, straightening up your dress, pulling it over your breasts and tugging it down to cover your bottom again. 
Jungkook merely smirks, purring, “You’re changing your tune so soon, princess? I take it you don’t want for things to continue when we’re on the ground then?”
You stiffly cross your arms over your chest, using them as supports under your breasts to hold onto the dress and keep it from slipping down and making you expose yourself to all of the sky high restaurant’s crew since Jungkook had gotten rid of your bra pads.
“Did you have to do that?” you demand.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, princess,” Jungkook fibs.
You roll your eyes, “It’s not enough that every time we do something it’s in public but you’ve started to destroy my underwear too.”
“Oh relax, Y/N,” Jungkook coaxes, “Your rack is spectacular and will be doing a more than great job of holding up your dress. You have nothing to worry about. And even if you did ever expose yourself to anyone you didn’t want to, I would just erase their memories for you.”
“My hero,” you simper sarcastically, tugging on his right ear.
The male narrows his eyes at you, consideringly. His front teeth nip at his bottom lip and you know that you’ve gotten yourself in trouble again as Jungkook thinks up ways to get back at you during the descent of the restaurant. 
When you are finally back touching solid ground, you are able to messily untangle yourself from the harnesses that kept you secured to your seat. You almost fall flat on the ground when you gingerly step off the platform you two had been eating on, towards the cracked pavement of the empty lot. Your legs had turned into jelly during their time up in the air, it’s a combination of vertigo and your legs still being shaky from having you edged to an orgasm that was woefully stolen away from you.
Jungkook immediately catches you in his arms, peering down at you softly before coming to a decision. He lowers himself, bending down to wrap his arms around your back and thighs more securely, before picking you up in a bridal carry. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him after hesitantly locking your arms around his thick neck.
“So,” he hedges, moving his face forward so that he can nudge at your plump cheeks with his nose. “Should the night end here princess?” he asks, “Or do you want the fun to continue when we get back home?”
“Yes, please,” you quietly beg.
Jungkook gently brushes his lips against your forehead before escorting the two of you home in a whirlwind cloud of gold dust before you two suddenly reappear in the hallway in front of the two of your rooms.
“Are we sleeping in different rooms tonight?” Jungkook inquires, just to check that your mind hasn’t changed within the last two minutes.
“Take me to your bed,” you softly urge the genie as you upturn your face, your nose nudging against the thin scar across his left cheek. He swiftly traipses forward, his long legs reaching his door in one effortless stride. 
His room is similar to yours except his bed is bigger, you notice with envy, and his furniture appears to be made of black colored iron unlike the white painted pieces in your room. He sets you down in front of him as he goes to close the door.
“Jungkook, babe,” you call out to his back. He raises an eyebrow as he turns to face you again. “Can you help me with my zipper? It’s a little hard for me to get it down.”
The slim invisible zipper to your deep burgundy shimmery dress is located right on the topmost part of your ass since it’s a mostly backless piece. Jungkook crowds you from behind, his massive frame enveloping yours as his long deft fingers go to zip you down. You shudder as his knuckles brush against the warm sensitive skin of your back, each touch sending a lighting bolt of attraction shooting up your spine while causing arousal to pool between your thighs. When the zipper is halfway down, resting on the swell of your ass, you step out of his hold. 
You turn around to face him as you pull down on the thin straps of the dress, letting them hang around your elbows as your bust works overtime to keep the dress up. With a twisted smirk painting your plush lips, you shimmy out of the glittery wine colored fabric, letting it pool around your Saint Laurent encased feet before stepping out of the circle of clothing lying on the ground. You lithely stalk towards Jungkook, your hair a sexy mess around your shoulders, curling into your breasts and brushing against your nipples as you make your way to the genie, completely nude since he had gotten rid of all of your underwear a while back.
Jungkook’s eyes softly shutter close as you finally reach him, his eyelids fluttering as he raggedly takes in a deep breath. You look utterly divine wearing only gold jewelry and your long strappy black heels that make your sun kissed limbs look miles long. You wrap your arms around his thick neck, pressing your heaving breasts against his hard pectoral muscles, “Jungkook?”
His hands grip onto your hips pulling your smooth crotch against his clothed one as he backs the two of you into the door. His hard pulsating cock is pressed against your slit and it makes you whimper when you shift and the zipper to his pants hits your clit. He secures his arms across your ass, pushing you up into his hold, making your toes tip because even in your heels you’re unable to be face to face with him. The man is sexily and inconveniently tall. Balancing all of your weight on your toes and Jungkook’s arms, you stretch so that your face is aligned with his and you can comfortably kiss him. Your teeth grab for his plump lower lip and pull it between yours so you can suck on that lush flesh, agitating it so it becomes red, wet, and swollen.
A subtle growl starts low in Jungkook’s chest as he pushes your body even further up and as you lose your footing you tangle a leg around Jungkook’s hips. His other hand moves up to roughly capture your jaw in its hold, locking you in position as he aggressively meets your lips back. His kisses are greedy and all-consuming; Jungkook kisses you like he’s a starving man and you are his first meal in a long time. His hand, the one that's gently hanging by your ass, starts to knead the supple flesh and your breath catches in your throat as you let out a choked gasp. His fingers are right by your puckered sensitive hole and you’re reminded of the fantasy you had had the night before he came into your life. Of a man touching and stroking you there in that forbidden orifice and working you up. 
Meanwhile, his mouth is busy; his tongue is prodding its way past your lips, slipping in and licking a torrid path in the lush cavern of your mouth. It’s agile and long, and the strong wet muscle twirls with your own, easily taking control of your mouth. The sounds slipping out of both of your lips as you continuously meet each other for more and more impassioned kisses are obscene; they’re loud wet sounds of fervent hunger that grow more frantic as the kisses persist.
Your core is clenching around nothing and it has you rutting against Jungkook’s crotch like a bitch in heat, leaving a dark damp patch on the black fabric of his dressy joggers. Jungkook stops stroking and squeezing your ass to pull your other leg around his hips until your stiletto heels are digging into his butt and you are wrapped entirely around his body like a koala. He backs away from the door, his lips breaking apart from yours so he can look where he is walking and carrying you. You are still kissing him though; your lips have trailed down to kiss and bite along his jaw and neck, you even let yourself suck on his Adam’s apple which has him gulping and your lips stretching into a smirk against the flushed smooth flesh  of his throat, as you can feel every movement underneath the delicate skin.
He carefully drops you onto the bed, taking precaution not to fall over with you and crush you underneath his weight. You stare up at him, wide-eyed as your lips part with hunger and surprise at the change in position. His large doe eyes have gone black with lust, becoming heavy lidded as they travel up the entire length of your body with lazy glances. 
He steps in between your parted legs, his hands curling around your soft meaty thighs, dimpling into them with the pressure from his fingertips. “Let me eat you out?” he asks huskily, his tenor sounding ragged and raspy.
“Please,” you beg with wide eyes shining with lust. Your legs part even more to let Jungkook see just how wet your folds are.
He sinks to his knees before you, holding down on your thighs as he lowers himself to the ground. He places a flurry of light open mouth kisses against your soft thighs as he nudges them apart and pulls you forward so that your ass hangs off the bed and he can throw your legs over his shoulders. Your Saint Laurent encased limbs spasm against his back and the pointed heels dig into his white T-shirt making him grunt as he falls forward a little. 
You let out a pained whine when you notice Jungkook manages to catch himself right before he faceplants onto your cunt. He slowly lowers his face, nose tenderly nudging at your slit before he purses his lips and kisses at your folds. He gently mouths at the petals of oversensitive and swollen flesh, softly lapping at the juices that cling to them. You let out a shrill, frenzied moan when he flattens his tongue against your core, licking long and hot fat stripes down the opening. Your fingers snake into his damp indigo colored locks, drenched from his sweat, scratching your acrylic nails against his scalp as you attempt to push him down further into your crotch. 
He slides his hands up your warm thighs making your muscles contract at the sensation before he grabs onto your hips, guiding their motion with his grip. He lets you rock against his mouth frantically, opening his jaw wide as your juices that he’s unable to capture drip down his chin. You wail, letting out a desperate sob as he buries his face deeper into your cunt licking and slurping like a man maddened from lust. His nose juts against your swollen inflamed clit as his teeth clamp down lightly on your folds and pull at them gently, making you convulse and twitch as you mindlessly shove your pussy against him. 
“Is this good, sweet girl,” he murmurs huskily, “Is this what you wanted?”
He brushes his plush lips over your clit, teasing you, tempting you until he has your laser focus drawn to what he is doing. It’s then that he starts working on that hyper responsive bundle of nerves, teasing that little bead with flicks of his tongue, hard focused snaps of his wet muscle against the overworked bud. He’s giving you everything; his mouth wrapping around your clit, his lips gently pressing against it in faux respite, his teeth nipping it to draw out cries, and his tongue manipulating it to make you turn feral. He’s got you in the palm of his hand and it makes him realize that he’s been neglecting you in perhaps the most important way.
“Is,” his tongue jabs into your core, “This,” his teeth clamp down on your clit, inducing tears to spring from your eyes, “Good,” he slurps at your arousal noisily, repeating the question.
You frantically nod in his direction before you realize he can't see your expression with his face shoved into your pussy. “Ye-Yes,” you choke out, clearing your throat that's gone rough from the constant stream of screaming that Jungkook’s been able to pull from your lips. You think it subsides him but then he tilts his head in a calculating way that’s got you freezing against him.
He pulls away to draw your attention back to his face, you glance at him with glazed over eyes that are confused yet frustrated. Staring right at you with sleepy, hooded lids, he holds your gaze as he runs his index finger up and down your fluttering core, gathering up your juices on top of his finger, using the transparent ropes of arousal to coat his finger, lubricating it before he plunges it into you. 
“Jungkook,” your legs spasm over his shoulders as you accidentally hit his back with one of your high heels. “I’m gonna c— I’m gonna COME! I can’t— I can’t take much more of THIS!” Your hips raise up from the bed as you squirm, fucking his finger into you since he hasn’t started moving it yet. 
He stares at you consideringly, “Fuck my fingers Y/N,” he raspily commands, “Fuck yourself to completion.”
You still, momentarily unnerved but Jungkook uses his thumb to flick the nail of his middle finger against your clit, which not only pulls out an embarrassing keen from your mouth but also spurs you into action, rocking your hips in fluid motions as your core takes in the entire length of his index finger.
You whine in frustration, complaining, “Jungkook, this isn’t enough!”
“I’d say make it enough,” the male responds, “If I hadn’t been tempting you all night long. Consider yourself lucky, princess.” And with that Jungkook shoves three more fingers in you, pumping them into you impressively faster and harder than he had ever teased you before, almost inserting half his hand, a centimeter into his palm as well, into the cunt he stretched out during dinner. It’s a good thing he thought to do that since you would be struggling when he finally took you. 
Your vision turns white as your eyes almost roll backwards and your teeth chatter, knocking into each other due to the violent intensity at which Jungkook was impaling your pussy with his fingers. Your thighs quake uncontrollably as you’re finally pushed to the brink. With your voice crescendoing into a needlessly long and cacophonously loud scream, you reach an earth shattering climax, slumping down onto the bed, your legs twitching absentmindedly.  
The male gets off of his knees, the bottom half of his face is still glistening with the remnants of your arousal. He stretches, his broad shoulders getting rolled back, before he one-handedly pulls off his fitted white tee in a decidedly sexy manner. Your eyes immediately shift to his bare upper half when you hear the clink of metal and you find yourself staring at, for the first time, his golden waist chain. The gossamer strands of metal are wrapped around his thin, sun bronzed waist, practically blinding you with the shine from their yellow color that glitters as it moves with every flow and shift of Jungkook’s body. 
Jungkook doesn’t let the chain hold your attention for too long, immediately distracting you as he unbuttons and undoes the fly on his dark cargo joggers. He lets the fabric hang loose around his hips as he palms his massive shaft though the black cotton of his Balenciaga boxer briefs. He rubs the bulbous tip of his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear as he toes off his imposing spiky heeled Chelsea boots. Once the shoes are off, he gently tugs on his pants, letting them pool around his ankles and stepping out of them.
He walks towards you almost nude except for the briefs that cling to his muscley thick thighs and show how pronounced his dick is as it struggles to pop out from behind the band. There is a cocky smirk painting his lovely coral colored Cupid’s bow and his nicely shaped eyebrows quirk in challenge as he steps in your direction. You groan in impatience and need as he stands in front of you, legs spread hips’ length apart. A light chuckle sounds from behind the plush lip he’s biting hard as he pushes down on the black elastic band of the underwear and his massive cock, which you have only felt against you but never seen before this moment, bounces out from the confines. He’s larger than you dreamed he could be, and you know better than to assume that Jungkook, fiercely competitive and authentic as he is, would increase the size with magic. 
Your hips are already subconsciously gyrating against the air as you take him in with a slackened jaw and numbly hanging open mouth. It’s girthy and twitching lightly, slightly bouncing as it stands proud free from the confines of pants and underwear. The mushroom tip is swollen and flushed a dark berry red. The thick protruding vein you wanna nibble on, runs along the underside of the cock and is more pronounced, becoming easier for you to see, when he holds up the shaft to rub at its bulbous head to work precum out of it, make the white viscous liquid bead from the tip. 
His cock is fucking pretty, and you want to suck on it, but a quick glance at the male reveals that he’s too impatient to let you do that now and just wants you to take him in. You can’t blame him after he’s gotten you off about half a dozen times over the course of the day without having blown off some steam himself. 
The tattoos along his arm seem to pop against his sun kissed skin as he strokes his cock which swells at the stimulation. “Ready princess?” he asks quietly.
“Please.” You beg a repetition of the one word that always finds its way easily to your lips when Jungkook is working you up. 
He guides his cock to your gushing slit, brushing the mushroom head against your folds, rubbing it into them causing his precum and your arousal to combine and mix. He slaps his head against your clit a few times before he deems you sufficiently drenched and ready to take him in. He slowly presses the round tip into your folds, hunting for your opening, his veiny hand guiding his shaft’s path. Slowly it breaches you, causing your mouth to fall open as a sex crazed look takes over your features. You moan a long, wanton sound at the intrusion, even though Jungkook took his time preparing you, it’s been more than a year since you’ve fucked anyone. With one hand still directing his cock, he uses the other to grab your hip to gently lift it up so he can palm the small of your back and push you up towards him.
You meet him eagerly, squirming as you help him get you up, throwing your arms over his shoulders and holding onto his neck with a deathgrip. He slowly moves the hand from your back to run along your hip and then your thigh so that he can wrap your curvy leg around his hip. Pulling your leg up had another advantage as well, now he can more easily enter you and he slams into you, impaling you with his cock until he is fully sheathed and your waxed bare mons meet the nicely groomed dark patch of hair on his pubic bone, your pelvises flush against each other. 
You can feel the ridges of his shaft sliding along your walls as they clench around him, letting you feel every bump and vein. “A-Ah,” you stutter as a mewl slips from your panting lips. “Jung—JUNGKOOK,” you cry out as his cock twitches within you and the tip just barely hits that elusive g-spot.
“Fuck,” he grunts before a guttural moan breaks out of him. 
“God, princess. This is what you wanted all along didn’t you. The entire day you’ve been teasing me. Tempting me with those fucking sly smiles and suggestive looks. You didn’t want a fucking considerate boyfriend you wanted a rude libertine to blow your back out. Isn’t that right—princess,” he hisses through his clenched teeth.
You’re unable to answer him as he quickens the pace, slipping in and out of you furiously, taking his cock almost entirely out with only his fat tip in you before thrusting manically again, pounding into your pelvis, battering up your insides and making you turn into a boneless pile of goo.
You’re practically drooling at this point while your eyes are shiny from the tears that come from his frantic impaling as he jackhammers into you. Your mouth is hanging open and he smacks the ass cheeks he’s been gripping onto this entire time when you don’t give him a reply.
“This.” Smack. “Is.” Smack. “What.” Smack. “You.” Smack. “Wanted.” Smack. “Isn’t it, princess?” he growls, ending off with one last smack.
“Yes, Jungkook!” you sob, “This is what I wanted!” You’re inconsolable as he continues with the frenzied onslaught of sex. 
He hauls you up even further, he had one arm hugging your lower back as the other focused on keeping your thigh firmly locked around his waist and then you’re bouncing on his cock in midair, the metal of his waist chain poking into the soft skin of your tummy every time the two of you met into the middle. It’s a good thing he’s helping you stay attached to him because with the way he is bending you over, making your back arch as he attacks your breasts and neck with impassioned bites and kisses, you would have fallen right off of him without the extra support.
He makes his way up to your mouth, peppering your skin with sucking kisses before finally reaching it and wildly attacking your lips with his in a messy frenzy of teeth and tongue. After what seems like long interminable moments, he finally releases your lips with a wet pop. There’s still a string of saliva connecting the two of you that breaks when he parts open his mouth and whispers sweetly against yours, “That’s all you had to say, princess.”
He picks up the pace as he buries his face into your neck, dead set on leaving a bruising hickey that will remain for several days. You press your lips against his crown, his blue hair tickling your nostrils as you attempt to silence your cries against his scalp. His hold on you tightens like he never wants to let you go, keeping your sweaty body clinging to his, his biceps flexing as he grips onto you and jackhammers uncontrollably, losing all signs of rhyme or rhythm, just knowing that he wants to be buried in your heat forever.
“Say you want this,” he demands. “Say you want ME!” The last word is punctuated by a brutal thrust that hits your g-spot perfectly and has you crying into his hair. 
“I want you,” you sob, “God, I need you Jungkook.” Your breasts are heaving against his hard pecs, your nipples dragging along the smooth solid planes of his chest as you struggle to get your words out.
If you could have seen Jungkook’s eyes at that moment, you would have seen how they turned reddish black, the color of molten lava as a look of pure possessiveness took over his features. But since you can’t see his face, you’re unaware of how your genie is falling for you just as easily as you are falling for him. 
The loud sounds of his balls hitting your skin resound through the bedroom and Jungkook never lets down on the pace. He fucks you into submission as you hang off of him, jellylike with no control over your spasming limbs. Jungkook takes your well timed bout of flexibility to maneuver your legs off of his thighs to hang off his elbows as he wraps his arms around your knees and has them circle behind you. This new height and shift in position has his hip rolls drag his cock through your folds in a more enticing manner, working up your engorged clit with every pounding. You almost forget that he’s no longer hitting your g-spot as you shriek loudly, your poor clit sobbing at the new brutal onslaught of stimulation. 
“Jungkook,” you keen, “God, Jungkook. I don’t know how much further I can go.”
“I’m sure you’ll keep up,” he hums meanly, as he pistons his hips again and again. You’re writhing against him, barely able to roll your hips to meet his every thrust anymore. You feel like you just ran a marathon and you’re approaching the last yard. The end is near and you can sense it with how overheated your body becomes and how you wince and whimper at every move Jungkook makes, able to feel every drag of his magnificent cock through your core down to what feels like the cellular level. Your walls keep clenching onto him tighter and tighter as well, reluctant to release him from their hold and he finds himself putting in even more effort into every snap of his hips.
“You’re almost there aren’t you, sweet girl,” he mumbles against your throat, biting harshly along the delicate skin under your jaw and pulling at it with his front teeth. You can only let out a wordless amalgamation of sounds erupt from your throat as you moan. 
“Let me take you there, princess,” he mutters, “I’ll be your guide, darling.” He bucks into you one last time and he’s almost done it. He’s sent you there to that precipice. You’re hanging on the high but you need to come down. All it takes is one pinch from his clever fingers to your bruised clit as he bites down on your shoulder and you’re there, screaming as you hit your release, gushing around him like a broken sprinkler while Jungkook soothes the abused flesh with soft kitten licks from his tongue, his cool saliva covering the tender area like a balm. 
As you hang of his body, your head sagging against his chest, arms no longer bothering to hold onto his neck, the male lets a faint smile grace his lips, holding you up with his impressive strength, gently rocking his cock into your drenched folds a couple more passes over before he explodes inside of you, painting your walls with his hot viscous ropes of white cum. 
You’re practically asleep in his arms when he’s struggling to pull his shaft out of your fluttering folds that still want to keep it sheathed in their slick embrace, warming his cock with their heat, but he persists, gently dragging it out. The amount of cum that flows out from between your thighs after that is almost obscene. 
Jungkook looks back at his bed before glancing at the mess the two of you have created and decides that the best thing to do right now would be to magically make the liquid disappear before also cleaning you two up like you two had come straight out of a shower. Once your skin is glowing and clean, he gently lays your body down on the right side of his bed, carefully making sure that your head is correctly positioned on the fluffy pillow before covering up your nudity with the silk comforter. 
He walks over to the other side and slips easily into bed, facing the ceiling as he reclines next to you, pondering something. He seems to finally come to a decision and the lights flicker off, swamping the room in darkness, as he turns over to face you and drags your body into his so that your ass is pressed against his front. Throwing an arm and a leg over your form that is loose-limbed in slumber, the male comfortably spoons you before he plunges into sleep as well. 
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This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - Non Commercial - No Derivatives 4.0 International License
©OPALJM 2021
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jjungxkook · 1 month
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blackout (pt2) | jjk
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⇥ pairing: roommate/best friend!jungkook x reader
⇥ genre: best friends to lovers, roommate and college au, angst, fluff, crack, smut
⇥ rating: 18+
⇥ warnings: suddenly there’s angst?, lovesick for your BFF🤒, yearning pining longing all of it, swearing, jealousy, sexual content, like riding, kook with his Big Dick, protected sex, emotions.., spanks, clit slapping, tattoo obsession, a lot of kissing and calling her (his) pretty (girl) :(, dom jk, dorky jokes, ass n tiddie love<3, bit of biting, oral (f. rec.), so much care n attention :(, grinding, teasing, riding, impatient koo being roughhh, did i say kissing🥺, degradation (just once or twice), cum swallowing...; the ending...
⇥ wc: 16.4k
⇥ author’s notes: i don’t even know what to say except i am sorry :) :) this broke me a bit tho, and i already cannot wait for the next update</3 alllsoo, if you haven’t read blackout pt1 yet, i’d strongly advise to do so in order to understand pt2!
⇥ summary: You really didn’t think that the promise of letting your tension out on each other tonight would backfire like this.
pt1 || pt2 || pt3
Not yet.
You know as well as Jungkook that it’s not time to leave yet. Which might be the reason why his fingers are still reluctant to back away. Blazing hot wherever they touch you. The flame burns its way right into your veins.
Why are you here again? In his bed, haunted by his scent on every square inch of his sheets; so intense that the fragrance will be imprinted in your memory for the rest of the day. Things happened yesterday, again – but how did you land here in the first place?
Was it yet another excuse to save up money? To use one room’s warm light instead of two’s. Or were you watching something? Most importantly, does it matter?
Because the answer won’t affect your situation. Nothing will, will it? He told you.
All that happened won’t change anything, right? Between us?
Of course not. Except, it changed your every conscious thought of every moment of your days.
Because I’m… I’m sorry if it makes things weird.
He apologized. And you assured he was right with his assumption. That yes, things would remain the same.
This very confirmation of yours makes him continue.
Continue to explore your skin. To jumble up your emotions. To twist and turn every piece of hope you find when he touches you.
Stupidly enough, your headstrong nature falters whenever he so much but looks at you, so you let him do all the cruel, intoxicating things he does to you.
Like now as you wrap your hands around his already crumpled up shirt. Sighing when his palm pushes through the layers separating the warmth of his skin and the flesh of your ass. He brushes along the curve, squeezing the mounds lightly yet enough for you to react.
He lands a gentle peck on your jaw. Then, his hot breath draws an invisible line along your neck, his lips stopping over a vein to press one wet kiss against it. Another content sigh paired with a quiet hum airs out of you.
“We should leave,” you whisper.
You don’t want to. There’s zero desire in you to leave for anything. But at the same time, you want to see how he reacts to your suggestion.
He voices a tiny, low, lazy groan. The sound catapults you back to the first moment of today, sleep broken early when you felt his body shift next to you.
He wasn’t holding you anymore the way he had last night, instead lying on his stomach with his loose fists next to his head. His usually sharp face looked puffy and round, soft cheeks and pouty lips bringing back the school boy you used to know.
Strange how things seem to change so fast when in actuality, years have passed.
“They won’t miss us there… They can just start,” Jungkook argues. “Just a lil bit.”
Both of you usually keep your Fridays lax and unplanned; spontaneity rules the end of the week, class and stress free, not busy until libraries and exams call.
Today, you’re scheduled for a peer group study session. You could rain check the little meet so easily – if mid-terms weren’t sneaking closer faster than you’d like.
He doesn’t care as much about those today. He keeps wanting just a lil bit. But a lil bit is always more than he promises.
Hellbent on luring your thoughts onto a different path, he pinches your cheek between his fingers. He aligns his gaze with you and then asks, “You noticed how eco friendly we’ve been these days?”
Yeah. Gas is expensive these days, so he doesn’t use his car as much as he would before. Your shower time has shortened, saving water, not least of all because you’ve begun jumping into it together.
And of course the thing with electricity.
Candles are pivotal life saviors. But it seems that lazing around, busying wandering fingers with each other’s bodies and eliminating any desire to watch TV plays an insane role in saving your ass, too. Who would’ve thought?
“Because you can never keep your hands off me,” you half joke, half moan out, distracted by the hand under your shirt.
“Hey, if that’s what you want, I can totally back away.” The touch of his fingertips is featherlight on the underside of your tits, but your body responds immediately. “But I don’t think it is.”
At least not when it’s him. If it was someone ordinary towering over you, someone from a different realm than Jeon Jungkook, it might not affect you that hard.
But it is him. Dangerously real, existing at the same time as you, yearning for nobody but you. Unbelievable.
Your breath hitches when he pinches your nipple between two fingers. To him, the only thing worse than actually seeing you naked might be the visible comfort you showcase around him.
Like, by walking around in shorts that reveal part of your ass. Or by cuddling into him fully without a bra on, challenging not only his blurry mind but the little guy downtown, too.
He thinks he melts in your palms like wax, slowly but surely, feeble in your presence. What he doesn’t know is that the wax burns and sticks to your skin, and you’re next to him, constantly and patiently enduring the pain.
But despite the steadiness you portray on the outside, in truth you–
“Of course I don’t,” you tell him, watching his touch retreat to take off the dark red shirt.
The beat of your heart stops when you watch his hourglass figure float above you, the slim waist splitting your soul in half. His shoulders look so pretty, bare like that, golden and strong, much like the melanin chest shimmering in the fall sunlight.
Goosebumps arise when he leans in, lifting you and your shirt softly. He hisses when you fall back onto your back, fascinated by the slight bounce of your tits, and you feel like a fool when you whisper, “It’s just… I am weak for you.”
Settling between your legs, his body descends. His torso touches your perked nipples featherlightly, eyes trained on you and amused when you don’t waste a second to plant your hands on his back.
He either doesn’t take you seriously or is too afraid to take you seriously, because his next words are nothing less than another joke introducing a soft banter. “Only when I’m naked, though.”
But you don’t fall for his teases today. If you can’t straight-forwardly unveil your feelings yet, you will at least hint to them. “That’s not true.”
“Really? But you keep bickering with me.”
His words are airy and light. Like they weigh as much as a dissolving cloud, followed by the equally weightless kiss when he wraps his lips around your nipple. His mouth touches your tits and his tongue draws slow, gentle circles around your sensitive nub.
The hand covered in ink sneaks to your throat. His eyes are closed, his hums deep, fingers absentmindedly settling around your neck without applying any kind of pressure. You don’t know how much of his actions are intentional, but the constant brush of his thumb along your jaw feels like an outrageous strategy to numb your mind.
“Why…” You breathe. You swallow, and you bet he feels it. “Why can’t you keep a c-convo going for just… Two seconds?”
Jungkook laughs as he makes his way down, lightly nibbling and kissing your tits damp. His ministrations are a little more impatient now. A bit faster, littering a dozen smooches above your ribs and to your sides.
“I’ll talk to you later,” he whispers, licking between your breasts. “I’m busy conversing with my girls right now.”
Ridiculous. That he can make you laugh even now.
For some odd reason you can’t fathom, it looks utterly hot how the blanket he draped over himself keeps slipping. Down his firm shoulder blades, revealing his smooth, beautiful skin. His chest feels warm against your body.
Focusing on his hardening bicep proves difficult, considering he still has a hand wrapped around your neck like a scarf. You can barely look down at him as he raises your head, pushing at the underside of your jaw, kissing your crown tattoo.
And just as you’re about to joke about his obsession with your tattoo, he speaks up first.
“We should get matching tattoos one day.”
Your gaze falls from your ceiling back to him when his hand vanishes from your neck, trailing down your collarbones and skimming your mounds. He caresses your stomach as he keeps crawling down, eyes fixated on the royal symbol decorating your skin.
“Where did that come from?” You wonder, but he only shrugs.
“Dunno, I’ve been… Thinking. For some reason I always thought you’re scared of needles, but you know. If you’re not…”
In the chill of the season, you should be freezing in just your underwear, but laying next to Jungkook all night means enjoying the warmth of a heater for free. You only really feel the presence of fall when he curls his digits around your panties, getting rid of them within ten seconds.
Once you’re in his favorite state, fully exposed to his greedy eyes, you dare to respond, taking the moment before the storm. “Because I didn’t wanna get a blood test done like what, a decade ago? Weak deduction, Sherlock.”
“Don’t be a brat with me,” he warns, delivering a soft but effective slap to your clit. You squirm and moan quietly, and he tilts his head. “Or be one. Gives me some room to play.” You whisper a shut up before he answers your question. “But yeah, might be. Also thought you didn’t like tattoos, because you don’t comment much on mine. Like ever.”
“...What?”
“I’ve been literally haunted by yours. Dreamed of it two days ago,” Jungkook tells you, extra dramatic, breathing against your cunt on purpose. You don’t know if he wants you to laugh or beg. “But you don’t seem to care about mine.”
He graces your clit with a two-second french kiss as his hands push your thighs apart, and you call out his name under a shaky breath. His focus doesn’t falter, the red string of the conversation still intact.
“And because you never look at them when I run around sleeveless.”
What, does he do that on purpose? Is that his motif, the reason he owns sleeveless shirts? So you can ogle at him, boost his ego? Or… Or is that just what he’s used to from other girls?
Fuck, are you shattering his ego? He probably thinks you’re not interested at all.
But that’s not quite the truth. No, the reality is that–
“I don’t look at you because I find them so fucking hot,” you confess, managing a full, stutter-free sentence right before he licks a line between your folds.
“Ah. That’s the reason?” Shit, he needs to stop stopping. He can’t leave your limbs twitching just to say yet another dangerous thing. “Fair. Can’t look at you for too long either, and it’s just a tiny, damn crown.”
He’s lying. Because once he starts staring, he can’t avert his eyes anymore. Never.
“What tattoo… Would you want us to get?”
Gripping your thighs, he places your legs on his shoulders, the very place you haven’t stopped eyeing since he took off his shirt. Maybe he knows.
His palm rubs your leg tenderly, then wanders to your pelvis to tap on it in thought as he says, “A little heart with my initials right over your chest. No one except me and you would know who it’s about.”
Or everyone might know.
Not that you go around presenting your boobs to the world, but in theory, all your friends and family members would realize immediately. It’d be no surprise to them – doesn’t change that his suggestion knocks the breath out of your lungs, though.
As if he knows.
“Fuck you,” is the first thing your mind conjures, too careful to admit that his name is already tattooed all over your body. He just can’t see it.
His throaty laugh falls between you, but it subsides soon when he’s done waiting. He pushes his tongue into your entrance immediately, starting to shove it in and back repeatedly in the most pleasant yet mind boggling tempo. Mind boggling less because he’s fast; more because of the opposite.
Only Jungkook knows how to tear you apart while remaining ever so gentle.
But today, your patience runs as thin as his. You see his eagerness when he salivates a little too much around your cunt, digging his nails deep into your legs. Then recognize it when he lifts his head sooner than usual, trying to make sure you’re feeling okay as he always does.
But you take the moment to lift your body, even though his grip attempts to fight you, pulling at your legs to bring you down flat on your back. You shake your head, placing your hands on his face and pulling him up.
“No,” you mumble when his body sneaks back up, his face right above yours.
“What’s wrong?” He asks. Worry and slight guilt–whatever the reason for it might be–are apparent in his eyes.
“Nothing,” you tell him. Or at least you think it’s nothing. You’re trying really hard to ignore the ache in your lower belly, yearning for his closeness, too restless for any kind of foreplay, no matter how attentive. “I just want you. Now…”
Care – you see it when he swallows, wet, glossy lips parting. Thick eyebrows furrow in insecurity, and he brings his hand behind your ear, into your hair. “Do you… Do you feel okay?”
It’s his version of asking whether you’re ready. Loosely translates to, “Have I done enough, do you want more?”
You wonder whether he always looks at girls like that. Like he worries about them. Like they’re the center of his focus, not just in the most intimate of moments, but throughout the day.
Because that’s what you’re seeing in his eyes right now.
This is so bad.
“I do,” you say, nodding. “If I don’t, we can stop.”
“Of course. Yeah, I promise.”
You smile at him, your cheeks glowing. There’s so much joy in your eyes that you can literally feel it, and you hope it makes his heart combust the way yours does when he beams at you.
Pushing at his chest, you change the position, lifting your body to force him onto his back. He obliges quietly, never looking away from you. Still sporting his shorts, you watch the bulge strain the fabric and decide to end his and his clothes’ misery.
With his shorts and underwear landing close to where your panties already reside, you observe the slight twitch of his rock hard cock. Drooling, you lick your lower lip, straddling him with a careful hand on his balls.
“Where’s the condom?” You ask.
Now that you’re the one towering over him, delight fills every single fiber of your body. His chest falls and rises somewhat fast, fingers cautiously gliding along the curve of your ass.
It takes him a moment to register your question, hooded eyes lost. But then he blinks, nodding toward the bedside cabinet. You know exactly where his condoms are, but you fucking love how the soothing calmness in your voice hypnotizes him every… Damn… Time.
You shift up the bed, letting your soaked pussy fall on his hardening balls. Purposely, you rub against his delicate parts, allowing yourself to feel the hardness of his cock as you stretch toward the cabinet. You open the drawer slowly, a hand engulfing his length to rub lightly.
“The fuck is this you’re doing?” Jungkook asks through a soft snicker, landing a painless but echoing slap to your ass.
“Getting the condom?”
Your innocent eyes are deceiving. He almost falls for the purity in them before your smirk breaks the illusion.
“Bitch–” He jokes, shaking his head. “Alright. Just you wait.”
“Phew. What a scary guy.”
The clench of his jaw that accompanies his lopsided smile is enough of a warning. But he can’t scare you off – you love a good challenge and you know what it always leads to. You’d be stupid to not want your pussy battered by him.
“Are those new?” You ask once you’ve taken out a package.
“Mhm,” he confirms. “Extra lubricated.”
“But still XL or whatever the box said.”
“Well…”
The tone of his voice is proud. And honestly, he should be; no matter how much you love to tease him, the skills that pound you into the mattress every time are no damn joke.
You stop him mid sentence when you wrap your fingers around his cock firmer, pumping him slowly until his eyes roll into the back of his head. The grip on your waist weakens as you rip the foil of the condom with your teeth, still rubbing your pussy against his balls.
“Stop,” he murmurs, and you listen immediately, though not without a satisfied smile. “You gotta s-stop these things if you want me to still fuck you, babe… Can’t do this every time…”
Wouldn’t be the first time he came in your fist. You wouldn’t be opposed to it much either, but today, you don’t have much time to bask in his reactions and then wait through the refractory period.
“Sorry,” you say, and he laughs with his eyes still closed.
He looks so gentle. So frail, ready to succumb to you if you just let him. Unfortunately, you like drowning in and under him just as much.
Fiddling with the condom, you pull it over his cock, still plagued by imaginary pictures of him fucking you raw. Perhaps one day.
You shift back, lean in and bring your lips close to the tip of his shaft, gathering spit to land a blob of it on his dick. You use your fingers to spread it along the truly lubricated condom, and once he’s smacked your ass again, keenness in his action, you finally laugh and align your ready pussy.
“What’s going on with us today?” You ask, breathing between the syllables as you let yourself fall. He doesn’t have an answer ready – instead, he shakes his head again.
You let his cock penetrate your walls bit by bit. A grimace spreads on your face when he fills you to the brink, thick and big enough to surprise you every single time. It will take you a long time to get used to this – you hope things don’t stop before you can.
“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, lifting his arm to touch the side of your neck. “Hurts?”
“No, just… Feels new every time, you know?”
It burns for a moment as you let him pierce through you, adjusting to how he feels inside you. You balance your weight by placing your hands on his chest, and he grabs your wrists as his eyes observe your expressions.
Your eyebrows nearly kiss as you sink further, bottoming out. You move your hips, catching your breath. He looks down to where your bodies collide in a burning hot fire, and tries to manage at least one full sentence.
“How’re we gonna act later like… Like I can actually ever keep my hands off you?”
“You could just… Not?” You suggest, fully aware that’s not going to happen.
In truth, you don’t want to think much about how his friends know nothing about the hushed affair that’s been going on for weeks. Not because Jungkook’s embarrassed of you, but because you guys aren’t official, and he cares neither about rumors nor about unnecessary teases.
He doesn’t need to tell you that for you to know.
You do wonder, too, how the afternoon will play out. It’s just a stupid study group, so nothing much can go wrong. Despite your teeny tiny awkwardness among people you barely know, you don’t think keeping your touches for yourself will be a bigger challenge than your academic readings.
“Ohhh, fuck, I’m gonna– collect all the tension,” he tells you when you lift your hips and fall back onto his cock. “And let it out tonight, ‘k?”
“I’ll be mad if you don’t, Jeon.”
His member glides into you with such ease that it’s almost embarrassing. You just know that sex has never felt this way to you, and you know that he knows.
Your reactions aren’t something you can feign.
You make sure to drop your ass against his legs with a delicious slap – his obsession with your ass, or your body at that, is nothing he jokes about anymore. So when his hands land back on their favorite place, squeezing the flesh of your mounds, you’re not surprised.
“Pumpkin,” he lovingly whispers, even though his words suggest the ultimate opposite. “Can you go faster?”
“Faster?”
You brush your fingers along his chest, thumb painting a circle around his nipple. Then, you brush your touch down his abs, feeling the warmth of your skin before you lift your fingers to bring them to your tits.
Digging your knees into the mattress, you adjust your position, making yourself comfortable before you increase your pace. Hands keep your tits in place as you tease his eyes with relentless nipples pinches, darting out your tongue to the corner of your lips as you begin bouncing up and down.
“Ohhh, babe, y’know exactly what you’re do-ng to me, fuck.”
The broken sentence of his shatters your insides. The ambiguity of it, the tone he says it in, the rigid breathing that accompanies it. You want to keep it replaying in your mind over and over, never hearing anything else ever again.
“Jungkook–” You call out over the wet, sinful sound of your sex.
You move your body up high and down deep, forward and backward. His nails scar your ass as he helps your ministrations. You wish you could see the image of your pussy fucking on his slick cock just once. Perhaps, if he’s ever up to it, you might throw in the idea of a mirror or something…
The moan of his name forces his hands from your butt to the small of your back, suddenly pushing you down to his face that you grip immediately. His temple is glistening in a sheen of sweat under your thumb, and your movements slow down as you attach your lips to his.
But he doesn’t allow a pause as he wraps his arms around your body tight, holding you in place as his hips start snapping against yours hard. Loud. Pounding you into oblivion.
You nearly shriek into his mouth, lips parted as your tongues still touch. His head lifts just a little in an attempt to prolong the kiss, but the way he drills you doesn’t allow you the focus needed to meet his lips again.
So he parts from your mouth, letting your eyes roll back. Engulfs you in a kinda-embrace as you stifle your mewls against his shoulder. But he’s having none of it, shrugging to make your face emerge, forcing you to let every single sound into the open.
Your breath hitches, your eyes damp and your sounds desperate.
“Hey,” he mumbles next to your ear, digits in your hair. Then, he’s pulling your head up to look at you, realizing your chin is quivering a little. “Are we good? Too much?”
“No, I– oh my God…” You draw your lips closer to his, breathing against them. His jaw rests in your hand, sharp and cutting. “No. I’m okay.”
There’s something pleasant about the tears you hold back when overwhelmed. The fact that you keep going for him, endlessly hungry for each of his touches… That you let him do anything he wants to do to you.
Testing the waters–boosting his ego–he relaxes his movements. Much, as he understands, to your demise.
“What are you doing?!” You exclaim, frustration transparent in your craving voice.
“What am I doing?” 
Fuck, he’s turned back cocky. You hate him. And you hate that this is absolutely not true.
“Slowing down, you–”
He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, only shaking his head as he teases, “You’re needier today, aren’t you?”
Your energy is slowly dwindling. That the day has just started, already rendering you exhausted is unbelievable to you. Dropping your head again, you press your cheek against the pillow next to his face. Moaning as he fucks you gently; throbbing cock meeting a pulsating pussy, and he’s far from done with you.
He kisses the tip of your nose as you hold onto his hair, and tell him, “I’m not needier than you.”
“Bullshit…”
Both your words are whispers. You don’t think either of you realizes what exactly you’re saying, because the penetration down below robs your sanity.
“You started all this…” You argue. “Even though– we need to leave.”
“It’s not my fault.” His voice is so tender. His hand on your back so delicate, and he keeps kissing your shoulder, your arm, your hair. The filth in his statements is clear, but he mutters them like love confessions. “Your damn shirt was so thin it was basically see-through… Can’t flash your… Your nipples and don’t expect me to…”
“And h-here I thought you were an ass guy,” you joke, and he lets out a breathy laugh. Your own snicker dies as he connects your hips; the curved cock digs in just right. “Like that, Kook…”
“That was before you and your tits.”
You voice a sweet, quiet gasp, the way you always do when you’re close. But that can’t be the end – he doesn’t want this to end. Something snaps him out of a trance, stopping his movements altogether.
“Get on your back,” he suddenly orders, a hand at the back of your neck. You flinch when a sudden slap lands semi-hard on your already probably scarred ass.
You’re not sure what shifted in the air, and though he’s robbed you of your orgasm one too many times this morning alone, you don’t argue. With a slight, telling whine, you draw a deep breath, doing as told as you find yourself staring at the ceiling.
It’s a strange feeling, losing the fullness, feeling this emptiness. It’s like the lack of his touch leaves your soul aching for reprieve, too.
The mattress creaks as he shifts into position. Strong hands wander up your thigh and to your waist, pulling your body down and your head away from the bed’s headboard.
He fists his cock, knees drawing closer and parting your legs. Bringing the tip close to your entrance, he slides it up and down your slit. Just once, he dips in for the briefest moment, watching you hold your breath, but then pulls out again.
Rubs the rubber against your clit. Then taps the solidly hard shaft against it, setting your nerves on scorching hot fire, and when you don’t expect it for another minute or two, his entire dick pushes into you in one fell swoop.
“Holy sh– that was so unfair,” you cry out, immediately grabbing onto his arms, their hands at each side of your body.
He throws his hair out of his face, freeing his forehead. Then, he leans in low, his kiss an inch out of your reach. You chase his lips, but he backs away, smirking before his thrusts wipe the jokester-expression out of his face.
It feels so ridiculously heavenly, you can barely breathe. You cup his face in your hands, greedy for his mouth, but instead you shut your eyes. Pressing your lips together to withhold your possibly awkward sounds.
Which exhausts the man above you once more.
A hand travels to the back of your head, grabbing a patch of your hair. You gasp at the sudden pull, lifting your head with his movement and opening your blurry eyes. And what you see is irritation between furrowed eyebrows, a clenched jaw and a sweat droplet trailing down the side of his face.
“Stop muffling your sounds,” he hisses, gritting his teeth. You don’t know whether it’s annoyance or the feeling of your contracting cunt that’s keeping him on the edge like this. “How many times do I need to tell you that?”
A pound follows as punishment and you whine the way he wants you to. You throw your head to the side, choking up when he lets your hair go and wraps his fingers around your neck. “I’m sorry, Kook–”
“Lemme hear, 'k?” He whispers the last word, another hard plunge making you cry out. “I don’t care about neighbors or whatever.”
He pushes in balls deep, remains there for a moment. Circles his hips and then fuels your craze.
“Do you– d’you like me like that?” He groans. “Want me to be pissed like that?” Biting your lower lip, he watches the unfaltering pleasure in your eyes… Godfuckingdamn, you’re so pretty to him. “‘Cuz you’re fucking drenching my dick like a proper slut.”
His theory proves true when you squirm in his grip, agitated and out of your mind. “Jungkook, please…”
“Please what?”
You move your head to the side, letting your hand fall to press your fist against your mouth. “I’m cumm–”
“Look at me,” he interrupts. His voice is so close to your ear, intimidatingly hot. “Look at me first, Pumpkin, goddamn–”
“Jungkook…”
When your misty gazes meet, your eyes are wetter than before. Melting into a puddle, his eyebrows relax, and when he finally, finally, presses a kiss onto your lips, pelvis rubbing against your clit, you let go in waves.
Both of you are panting with failing lungs, and you feel your unshed tears water your eyelashes when you slam your eyes close. The orgasm shakes up your body, numbing the legs wrapped around his waist.
“My baby…” He whispers, pushing a thumb between your lips to open your mouth. Your stagnant breathing is like a symphony to his ears.
You call his name again, quieter this time. Sounding so fucking adorable, no matter the amount of indecency your moans carry.
“God, you’re cute,” Jungkook says, connecting your foreheads. Closing his eyes, he inhales through his nose. “Are you okay?”
“I feel good,” you assure. “I feel amazing with you.”
“I’m glad.”
“Thank you…” You wrap him in a hug, pulling his burning chest against your body. “For caring.”
“Don’t think I care for anyone… More.” All you can do is nod, even though every voice in your head is screaming. “Beautiful little girl.”
You’re not so little anymore. But to him, you’ll always be the curious, wide-eyed kid he befriended many years ago. The barely-there age difference doesn’t matter to him, because you’ve always been his little Pumpkin, and for him, this might not even change at eighty.
He captures his lower lip between his teeth, and tiny dimples appear on his cheeks. You run your thumb along them, feeling them relax, smiling when he does.
“You’re so pretty, you know?”
The very first time you were hot. This time, you’re pretty. Maybe you’re imagining the change in sentiment – it’s all your hoping, optimistic self can hold onto.
But then his fingers brush back your hair just to proceed to hold your face… His eyes are too loving to not assume the most promising outcome. Somehow, this is too much to endure after all.
“Don’t look at me like that…” You beg, immediately regretting when he lifts his eyebrows.
“Huh?”
Like you feel the same as I do.
“Like your heart’s melting for me.”
You don’t think it’s the answer he expected. Because the orbs in his hooded eyes expand, certainly more affectionate and starry than before. “It might be,” is all he says.
It’s way too much… You need a distraction before you spiral. And when it arrives in the form of his unsteady shakes and gasped breathing, you take the opportunity by its throat. “Can you…”
He chuckles, his mask cracking. He knows what you’ll say.
“Can you cum in my mouth?”
Jungkook clicks his tongue, cock still deep between your recovering walls. It twitches inside you, your cunt aching as you wind down from your high. He holds you like a fragile glass doll, his words painfully soft. “Will you ever let me cum inside you?”
Because in all those weeks this shit has been going on, you don’t think you’ve permitted him such a thing a single time. But…
“When you allow yourself to fuck me without that… That rubber bullshit. I wanna–” You hold tight when he delivers another sharp thrust. “I wanna feel you cum.”
His expressions change again. When he speaks again, he sounds only half genuine. “Maybe one day.”
And then, he’s already pulling out, pushing down your body by your chest when you attempt to lift up. Bringing a hand to the back of your neck, he pulls up your head a little, tugging off the condom to throw it to the side, and cages your head in between his knees.
“Open up,” he commands, cock in his hand knocking at your lower lip.
You take him in until you gag, still surprised at the sheer size, and then hollow your cheeks as he begins his ending movements. It doesn’t take him long anyway. The built up tension, the hardness of his balls, the staggering motions and the pace he sets to deepthroat your mouth don’t stall the orgasm.
Hot ropes of his seed shoot into the back of your throat. You gag again, eyes watering, and swallow every little bit he held back this morning. His fingers brush your cheeks as he drains himself out, and he only notices the chaos on the bed and in your hair when he pulls out at last.
He looks down at you, moving his face close to peck your head; and when you realize the further delay in today’s plans, you lift your arms and plead, “Clean me up?”
The smile he graces you with is vibrant and soft. Doting as he pulls you up and his thumb wipes at your lips.
“Let’s do some more for the environment and shit.” He nods toward the door. “Shower.”
The study session isn’t necessarily something you looked forward to this week. The members of the tiny circle are basically strangers to you, familiar faces that you can’t assign personality traits to yet.
It’s odd how disconnected you feel from them, considering that Jin and Taehyung are Jungkook’s newest yet closest pals. Jin is already a victim of his master’s degree, nose-deep and drowning, but Taehyung has sworn to organize postgrad semesters together with Jungkook, despite the uncertainty of what subjects they’ll be choosing.
The dark and vast world of college frightens them.
At least Jungkook knows that it’ll be something vastly different from the stuff you deal with now – sociology has some deeply scarring classes in its curriculum, so you can’t blame him.
Once you’ve freshened up and gotten over the lingering ache between your legs, you hold onto the emotional support Jungkook’s bicep delivers. Multiple times, you attempt to suggest changing the location, sitting in a corner of the library or a beloved café.
You tell him you haven’t been feeling your best these days, taken over by academic worries, and that you’re afraid that, on top of everything, you might embarrass yourself in front of the strangers that his friends are. On top of all the distress (though you never tell him he’s part of it).
But Jungkook waves your ideas off immediately, loyal to the plans he made, reassuring. “I promise it’s helpful. Those guys are smart, they know how to motivate.” He shrugs. “Studying with them helped me, so I think it’ll be good for you, too.”
Not that you’re not absolutely fine with studying on your own, sitting at your desk in the faint, warm light of your lamp. But you suppose trying out new things won’t kill you.
You realize that he wasn’t playing when you arrive. Jin and Taehyung are kind, and in some sense, incredibly bold, open and loud, too. Taehyung a bit less, much like Jungkook, while Jin’s personality compliments your roommate’s perfectly, like the Yin to his Yang.
No wonder he can never stop talking about the man.
Sitting on the bench-table-combination at campus in the still shining sun, you look around. The leaves are slowly floating down from trees in spirals, indicating the start of a new season when the sky doesn’t. It’s a pleasant day to spend some time outside – you might enjoy it after all.
“And you’re… Basically just here to help us out? Like, to tutor us?” You ask curiously, leaning forward to meet Jin’s eyes.
“More like,” he begins, laughing. He looks at you through the dark, permed hair covering half his eyes. “Reminiscing about a time when stuff was easier. Doing a master’s in sociology sucks.” Scrunching his nose, he lifts his shoulders, folding his arms in front of his chest. “But helping out people in need feels great too, I guess.”
You’re not people in need, but you’ll let him have it. His own humor pleases him, fills him with satisfaction. He doesn’t care if anyone around him bursts into laughter at his jokes – he’s happy with himself, and you’re no one to interrupt his joy.
“But if you need help with statistics, you can ask me,” he then adds, and Taehyung shakes his head next to him.
“I’m the expert for that, thank you very much,” Jungkook says, nudging your elbow from the side, because you are a math ace, too.
Your focus is well balanced today, shifting from conversations to studying, from stupid jokes to trying to understand the academic papers’ content. But whenever his touches collide with yours, you tense.
It’s probably something about his warmth. About how his fingers comfort you even when the occasional wind tickles your skin cold.
And he’s touchy.
Not in a lewd sense, but proving your theory that he can’t keep his hands to himself anyway. He likes to feel you under his fingertips. Enjoys how you take a breath when the back of his hand accidentally–or not?–hits your knee or thigh under the table.
“We’re talking way too much,” you scold half an hour later. “We won’t internalize anything like that.”
“And then those two will complain about being hungry and we’ll have to leave anyways,” Taehyung agrees, nodding affirmatively.
“No!” Seokjin defends. “I brought ridged chips. And trail mix. I also–”
“You say that everytime–”
Jungkook sighs next to you, scribbling something onto the papers he printed out. The side view of his face is intriguing and dashing – his whole appearance keeps distracting you when it really shouldn’t.
But are you to blame?
He’s wearing this serene, brown and season-fitting houndstooth coat of his. The gentle wind is blowing the tresses into his face. Lower lip jutted out, the faded scar you’ve kissed a dozen times – integral parts of him.
Perhaps sociology really is hard enough for him to blend out his surroundings. But once your eyes flicker between his mouth, the hand holding the pen and the boys too often, he finally lifts his stare to yours. He catches you red handed, though he doesn’t seem surprised at all. Instead, he raises his lips to a smile, blinking slowly.
Looks at you the same way he did this morning; as though no one exists around him.
You know that everyone is fading in your periphery.
Lost in thought, he parts his lips, breathing in as if to say something. The sunlit side of his face soaks in the last bit of today’s warmth before the clouds cover the star whole, and you immediately shiver when the cool gust blows.
Whatever sneaks to the front of his mind crawls back again, though. Because compared to the fall, the upcoming conversation feels more freezing, and the melting gems in Jungkook’s eyes can’t save you from the discomfort.
“Hey, just so you know,” Taehyung’s voice, deep and promising, breaks your moment. “We invited Hayun, but she’s late for some reason. I thought we could surprise you, actua–”
Pause.
Hayun. 
The harmless two-syllable-name, mentioned almost casually, causes a brief error in your brain.
She, as opposed to Jin or Taehyung, is someone you’ve heard and seen of plenty. No matter how many moans Jungkook has coaxed out of numerous women–how many he’s drawn out of you–Hayun has always been off limits.
Why?
Because he’s had an everlasting crush on her since the second year of college. You thought it subsided, thought that over time, he forgot about her or whatever her persona consists of. There were doubts, like when he saw her on campus – when he stopped for a moment to look before continuing as though nothing happened.
But… Still?
If anything’s an indication for the still present longing, then it’s his friend’s statement. Because they haven’t been friends for long – for them to know about Hayun means that he spoke about her pretty recently.
Hayun doesn’t even play hard to get or anything; in truth, she’s open and friendly, you know this much. But he’s always hesitated to approach her, and you don’t know why. Maybe because real emotions require real effort.
Which doesn’t support your overbearing thoughts. Or the fact that you were an easy hook up on a manually induced blackout-night. Not requiring actual effort.
No. That’s just your interpretation. Stop it.
Swallowing, you relicabricate your thoughts and focus on his reaction.
Usually–meaning ages ago when it happened last–he becomes a nervous mess when someone mentions her name. Starts cursing, licking his dry, plush lips, frustrated when his friends don’t warn him before trying to set him up with her. Until now, their strategies never worked anyway.
Today, things feel different. Not just the way Taehyung’s smirk seems to foreshadow something you hope won’t come true. But even Jungkook’s response, physical at first.
He tenses like you do. You feel it, his shoulders against yours, but most of all see it from the side of your eye. His back has straightened, and you notice that he’s looking at you, like he’s gauging your reaction.
But you play it off – don’t look up from your papers, suddenly immersed again and gripping the cold banana shake in front of you that you paid way too much for. You navigate the straw to your lips silently, shallowly sipping as you listen.
“Really?” Jungkook finally asks.
“Yeah, thought you might like it,” Taehyung answers; you hear the proud smile in his words more than you see it. Jin is just as focused on their conversation, not noticing your dropping mood.
“It’s been pretty long since I saw her,” Jungkook says. “I don’t even know what she’s been up to.”
“You can ask her. Cuz,” Jin waits, then speaks louder. “Speaking of the devil!”
Your heart hammers in your throat, right above your vocal cords, when you look up.
She’s sporting a fall dress, dark red and knee length, black stockings underneath and fingers wrapped around her bag. Half of her healthy mane falls over her shoulder, tucked behind her ears. She looks vibrant and gorgeous; you shrink in your seat.
Jungkook’s expressions still don’t light up as much as you anticipated; a slight solace in this somewhat frigid moment. But what he does do is keep his eyes fixated on her. Like you.
“Who was talking about me?” She asks with a squint of her eyes. She takes a seat next to Taehyung, across Jungkook. Looking into the round, she smiles and says, “Hi.”
You wonder how they came to invite her before you realize that she seems kind of close to the other two boys. “Who’s ever not talking about you?” Jin asks, one proof for the familiarity.
“Shut up, Jin,” she answers; another piece of evidence.
“Where were you?”
“Ahhh, just,” she rubs under her eye, looking worn out. “Had some issues at the student’s office. One of the boys I tutor never pays me on time, so I withdrew from the tutor’s program.”
“And what’s with the office?” Jungkook asks, leaning forward the way you did before for Jin.
She looks at him like she’s just noticing him here. But her gaze isn’t nonchalant or bored; her pupils glitter, like they’re delighted he’s talking to her. “They wouldn’t let me, because I promised to be of help for at least half a year and whatever, and I’ve been here for uh… Just five months.”
She rolls her eyes in annoyance, pausing. Taehyung furrows his eyebrows, a disbelieving grimace on his handsome face. “Seriously?”
“Yup, can you fucking believe this? But no worries, I solved it. Told them I don’t have any time anymore, and that it’d be their fault if I failed my classes.” She presses her lips into a thin line, nodding before she speaks on. “Well, they said they’ll see what they can do.”
“Aren’t you intimidating,” Jin remarks.
Hayun shrugs her shoulders in pride, taking out the books you recognize. Statistics of course, Jungkook’s field of expertise. She skims through the pages, some highlighted and filled with notes, others vastly empty. Under the table, she crosses her legs, and when you feel Jungkook flinch next to you again, she apologizes timidly for hitting his shin.
“It’s okay,” he mumbles back with a gentle smile; all of a sudden, she looks shy, brushing back her dark hair.
Jungkook struggles a bit with his focus from that moment on, seemingly done for today. When you look at him, he doesn’t seem like he can concentrate, staring at a word for way too long – you’re anxious to ask what he was thinking about once she’s gone, even though you can imagine why the focus dwindled.
It’s okay. It’s you he goes home with, isn’t he? You whose legs he buried his head between this morning.
You despise those selfish, unhealthy thoughts. Women should be empowering each other, not be envious; but you can’t help the sting in your chest. You hate it, hate it, hate it.
“C’mon,” Taehyung exclaims when Jin starts humming a melody. Apparently noticing as well as you that Jungkook hasn’t moved a paragraph. “Try as hard as y’all do when you calculate angles for soccer and shit.”
Right. They’re always there for soccer training, too.
“You guys still do that?” Hayun sounds excited when she shoots the question, planting a hand on Taehyung’s arm, covered by a beige sweater.
“Of course, yeah,” he answers.
“Woah? Then tell me when you go again.” Ah fuck. You’re not liking this. “I’ll make sure to cheer you on.”
Of course. You honestly didn’t even know she’s been there before at all.
Breaking out of his silent bubble, Jungkook wiggles his pen between his fingers and says, “That’s sweet of you. We’ll gladly have you there.” To boost his ego, you think. He likes it when girls scream from him. He averts his gaze to look at her book, using the moment efficiently. “Are you stuck on statistics?”
There it goes…
“Yeah,” she looks down; her curtain bangs graze her cheeks in such a sickeningly gorgeous way. “I guess so.”
But then–
Jungkook, surprisingly, takes an entirely different route from what you expected, his elbow tapping against yours and his head nodding toward you. “Oh, she’s pretty good a–”
Not that Jin cares, though. Unwarrantedly wingman-ing.
“Jungkook aces every exam on that. He could help you and get his focus back.” His voice is taunting, but you know his intentions aren’t to mock Jungkook… The opposite.
She looks at Jungkook and says, “If you don’t mind?”
Jungkook’s slightly forlorn puppy eyes flit to you innocently, and you calm your expressions, lifting your eyebrows in question. As if to say, Hm? What’s up?
So he tells her that no, of course he doesn’t mind. Stands and leaves your side, rounding the table and ordering Jin to give up his seat for a moment so Taehyung and Hayun can scoot over. By the time he’s seated himself next to her, you can barely think.
They start their thing immediately and keep leaning in as the explanations progress. Your thoughts race, entirely forgetting that it was you he was kissing in utter fervency just hours ago.
Whenever they look up to speak to each other, their faces are too fucking close. At one point, you think they’re zeroing in on each others’ lips, but then continue to tackle the mathematical problem at hand.
Jin next to you can’t distract you enough, even though his conversations are, as you come to understand, more flirting than talking, directed at you. “Anything you need help with?”
“I think I’m okay so far,” you lie, talking over the heartbeat drumming in your ears. But when he insists, pouting, you take a deep breath and give in. “Alright. This bit.”
You point to a random task, and he exclaims a delighted vocal. Without hesitation, he dives into what you already know; when he looks at you, you think that he is definitely looking at your lips.
“You know, you should join our study group more often. You’re fun,” Jin interrupts in the middle of his explanation, and you smile.
“I’m barely talking.”
“But,” he argues, his voice so sweet you almost let him distract you. “When you do, you’re great.”
How motivating that at least one of them thinks you’re worth the attention. Not semi-popular, pretty and outdated crushes, but you. Even if Jin’s intention might potentially not go farther than wanting to unzip your pants.
“Thank you,” you tell him with a laugh.
For a second, your eyes brush over Hayun and Jungkook, allowing an ephemeral, barely there peek. And in this very second, you catch him looking fleetingly; he blinks, then smiles, and eventually looks away.
A moment later, she laughs about an epiphany, finally understanding the concept in her textbook, and he grants her a delighted grin. It shatters your heart, but you keep yourself whole on the outside.
Because when he was naked over you today, suffocating you in his arms and synchronizing his moans with yours, he was looking at you like that, too.
You take another deep breath.
Jin starts saying something. You ready your shrinking brain to concentrate on just his voice, but when the split study session gets interrupted by vibrations of a phone, all ears perk up.
Heads lift – Hayun’s notification tone is loud. Taehyung slams a large hand against the table, suddenly enthusiastic. “Ha! Take out five bucks for the no-phone-jar!”
The frozen environment comes to life when Jin and Jungkook chuckle. Even your own mouth lifts to a soft smile, somehow a little, little bit endeared by Hayun’s confusion. 
“The what now?” She asks; Taehyung is ready to explain.
“Whoever’s phone chimes first has to pay up. We’re just friends with each other, so there was no way we’d lose. But you…”
“I didn’t even know about this.” She looks into the round, desperate eyes seeking help, but you stare back, grinning in apology. “Also, five bucks are a fuckton, shut up.”
Taehyung clicks his tongue as if he’s admonishing her, but she’s already too busy to notice. She glances at her phone, tapping a few times, and mumbles something.
You put your arms up on the table, on top of your readings and exercises and ask, “What’s wrong?”
She groans in annoyance, rolling her eyes at the device. “I was supposed to go to the library to return some books, but I rushed over here instead. So I couldn’t go, but today’s the deadline.”
“Oh, then go!” Jin encourages. You hate to nod along, eager to watch her walk away as if it could change anything or make today’s happenings undone. “It’s okay, we’ll be here.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll pay the fee for today, it’s fine.”
“That’s ridiculous,” you push. “You still have like 45 minutes. Just go and get it done!”
She looks to and fro, taking in the calm expressions of the men and you. “I don’t really wanna leave or go alone, though.”
And ever the wingmen, Jin and Taehyung add their two cents. “Jungkook can go with you. He’s done for today anyways, and we’re,” Jin points between Taehyung, himself and you, “just warming up.”
A ridiculous excuse if you’ve ever heard one. And anyway, you couldn’t be done with today more than you already are. You sigh.
Jungkook is hesitant at first, but her pure gaze is an absolutely convincing enabler. Puppy eyes look into his puppy eyes, and she assures, “It’s okay. Just if you want to.”
Your chest burns green. You hate the boys for not shutting up. Hate yourself for feeling what you feel. Watching a roommate, a childhood friend, walk away shouldn’t hurt or turn your heart into a bleeding mess.
The dull ache is agonizing and holds a hint of teenage drama. The pain that comes when freshly in love, experiencing a crack in those purple, golden, pink and vibrant feelings. When the light of the world dims a little.
Just this time, you’re adults, trapped at the same place, the same apartment. You’re stuck with him; in fact, you have been since he talked to you first so many years ago. There’s no easy way out of this.
But then you think that drowning in overthinking is unsolicited. They have just stood up, nodded kindly, left like ten seconds ago. There’s nothing behind their actions, but you’re still holding onto the easiest outcome, hoping you’ll realize tonight that your worries were for nothing after all.
But what upsets you the most is that this hurt is and was inevitable anyway. One day, your fling will break; one day, your feelings might numb you. One day, he might move on and fall for someone who’s not you, sleep with someone who’s not you eventually.
And then you’ll feel the same things that you do right now – what if today is just the damn beginning, a quiet warning?
If you’re turning a molehill into a mountain already, what about everything that will happen?
Another deep breath. Harder now that he’s not in front of you. What have you gotten yourself into?
The library is around five minutes from here, so they might be back in fifteen. No biggie, nothing happens in that time. You keep studying, trying to digress, but still a tense mess. Ten minutes pass, then fifteen, then twenty.
Forty-five minutes later, the library should technically be closed already.
And an hour later, they’re still not back.
“Damn,” Jin whispers, finally exhausted enough to not drill your head with explanations anymore. “He must’ve scored.”
For the love of God. You like him and Taehyung, but you really cannot fuck with their remarks anymore. You’re tired.
Secretly, you send a message, but Jungkook doesn’t respond. He’s a bad texter in general, but he always texts you back immediately. Another five minutes later, you sigh. “I’m getting worried.”
“It’s nothing,” Taehyung, however, promises. But he calls him anyway – no response. “I guess we should just be happy for them.”
Jin agrees with a hum, proud of his young friend until he notices your visible stiffness. “Are you okay?” He puts a hand on your shoulder, waking you up a little.
“Yeah.”
“Wanna stop studying? If you want, we can go to a café and I’ll buy you something nice.”
You know it’s an invitation to a date, so you decline. Even though it’s exactly what you proposed to Jungkook hours ago. Along with your suggestion to go to a library. Just what he’s doing right now – supposedly, even after closing time… Even though he promised he wouldn’t leave you alone with people you barely know.
Unfortunately, you’re not the most social person. Not exactly shy, but you have your introverted sides, even if you don’t show them to loved ones. Meeting new people can be stressful, and you were just lucky that Jin and Taehyung turned out to be pleasant to a certain degree.
That’s why… He promised…
Anger and irritation mix with your dull mood, and you look at a random spot on the table. You apologize to Jin and add, “I’m sorry, it’s just… Jungkook promised we’d go home together.”
Jin and Taehyung wait. Look at each other. A silent conversation unfolds before Taehyung leans in and puts a hand on yours. “Are you guys doing okay?”
You and Jungkook? Are you?
“I don’t know,” you tell him with a shrug.
“What’s going on?”
You blow a raspberry, shaking your head in response. I don’t know, your gesture says again. You think they understand without you talking much, because Jin hums in the next moment.
“I’m sorry…” Again, he looks at Taehyung, and you glance between them. Both their eyes are apologetic. “We didn’t know. If we had…”
What then? They’d made Jungkook fall in love with you?
When not even you could?
“It’s okay. It’s whatever, actually,” you say, feigning calmness. “Emotions and physical intimacy don’t always have to align, right?”
For a second, confusion befalls their faces before they get it. The thing Jungkook didn’t tell them about the two of you yet – the ridiculous affair going on for weeks now.
“Right…” Taehyung mutters.
“Thank you, though. For studying with me and all.”
You take a stand. Gather your things. Wish them a pleasant weekend and tell them you hope you’ll see them again soon. It’s a lie, because they’ll keep seeing you as the girl who’s in love with her best friend, and you don’t need pity.
And anyway. Why care when Jungkook is apparently doing more than okay?
Keeping his hands off you wasn’t so hard after all.
Tiptoeing through the darkness has become a habit of yours.
You can’t recall if it’s thanks to your late night moans, the utter lack and need of light; light is a waste of energy and money when you’re wrapped in the arms of a man you keep falling for harder. 
Right now, you don’t need the brightness either; your curtains are shut. It feels a little redundant and doesn’t quite match the silent back and forth rocking of your heart. It’s like darkness makes you think better – and in all honesty, maybe you shouldn’t be thinking or overthinking at all, but your mind is a masochist as much as your body.
You guess tonight the cause of the missing light is not his hypnotizing touch. Or his words, dipped in honey and molten caramel.
Hours later, and he’s still not home. The faint brightness of the sky still guides you through your living room, but soon, you’ll have to adjust to the darkness when the sun goes down – and he will still not be back.
You look over to the door, still slightly ajar and unmoving, as it was when you entered the living room this late afternoon.
Your knuckles pale as you curl your fingers to tight fists, and when your nails dig into your palms too painfully, you release your skin and grab your phone from under your thigh. Even though it’s still too warm for October, the thin blanket – that for once does not carry his scent – provides a bit of comfort. You pull it closer to your chin.
Ringing a few times, someone picks up with a suspicious hint in their voice. You want to mock, the way you always do, but bickering is definitely not your number one priority tonight.
“Hey,” you greet. “Am I disturbing you?”
Your sister uh-uhs; her yawn reveals her constant love for her bedroom. She’s a homebody as much as you used to be before you started drafting “Things I Need to Do Before I Die/Turn 30” bucket lists.
Then again, her fatigue might be well justified, considering that she’s already married, managing a house and an incredibly sweet infant. Everything is quiet in the background, though, so right now must be one of those glorious, peaceful moments she always yearns for.
“You’re not,” she says. “But this is a little unusual. You don’t call that much anymore, and definitely not that randomly.”
“That hurts.”
She laughs and then sighs, opting for her first ice-breaking question. Ever-constant since you were kids, “Have you eaten yet?”
“Yeah. A little.”
“Doesn’t sound like that’s enough.”
“Uh, yeah, I’ll get more later.”
A brief silence follows, and then you ask, “So, how’s everything going?”
It’s an awkward question – not necessarily part of a standard conversation between the two of you. You usually have random topics to tackle, but today, the drop of your heart and her obvious wariness don’t seem to set the mood for a sisterly chat.
“I go shopping for the little one way too much,” she admits. “Bought her a dress and an apron today. I think she likes the dress, because she won’t let me take it off, but she hates the apron.”
“You spend money on stuff she won’t care about in two days–”
“Yeah, isn’t it funny? Babies are exhausting.”
“She’s sleeping in her dress tonight?”
“Oh, she’s not sleeping. God, wouldn’t that be such a nice concept?” She laughs, and you can imagine the soft way she shakes her head, eyes rolling back with a gentle smile. You miss her a lot right now. “No, she’s downstairs and watching Winx Club with her Dad.”
You blow a raspberry, containing your sudden giggle before it ebbs down. “He’s watching Winx Club with her?”
“She loves it. And apparently, so does he.”
The dim giggle that somehow gets stuck in your throat indicates more than you want to allow. You think she notices, but you are grateful when she doesn’t address it… directly. Her answer does seem a bit telling to you still.
“Where’s Jungkook? You guys didn’t go out today?”
The mention of his name hurts less than the familiarity she says it with. It makes you realize once again how large his role has become in your life throughout the decades. How he’s grown not only to your best friend, but to someone your people know and appreciate.
They undoubtedly view him as not only a part of your everyday life, but part of you as a whole, too. The familiarity reminds you of summer days, of drowsy afternoons after school when he’d come and visit, scavenge your kitchen like it was his second home.
Your house where you’d both get scolded together, where his childish giggles would echo even after he left. Those ear to ear grins would be reserved for you – he was too shy and too introverted to flash them in front of the overbearing, overwhelming class.
“I think he’s out with friends,” you mumble back, and your voice fails you in just the way you wanted to avoid.
Your childhood feels like a different reality to you. When you’d still fiddle with cassettes and video cameras. Something about the nostalgic bitterness hurts.
You breathe in deeply, and your sister’s voice drops. “Aren’t you bored?”
“No…”
No, you’re not. You’re too busy thinking.
She sighs again and calls your name, firmly, as she did when you lied about your first failed exam. Or when you sprained your ankle after she warned you to not overdo skateboarding.
“Is everything alright?” She finally wants to know, and you think you feel your body drop to your basement.
“Yeah.”
“What is it?”
No point in lying again. If anyone, she might understand your stupid, dumb, totally high-school-ish lovesickness. She’s seen your lowest lows – another one won’t scare her off.
So you’re point blank.
“I think I’m falling in love with him.”
You don’t need to say a name. No syllable of his existence is necessary to make your confession burn everything inside your body. Saying it out loud pains you in an entirely new way – makes it so incredibly clear how deeply rooted your affection is, and how his isn’t.
In all honesty, you imagine it’s not really a surprise to her. But she doesn’t ridicule you or sing-song how she knew; instead, she hums. “What happened?”
“So much,” you say, holding back your chokes. “A lot happened. Like, things that shouldn’t happen between friends, you know? Or, like… Things that shouldn’t classify us as friends anymore.”
“Okay…” She waits, and you use the moment to draw another breath, swallowing hard. A fist presses against a spot under your chest. “Do you wanna tell him, baby?”
“I don’t know,” you confess, biting into your cheek. “I don’t know if I can.”
“But. You do realize that he adores y–”
“That’s not the problem!” You interrupt. “He’s shown me more than enough of that…”
His touches, his eyes, his words – they were more than enough to show that he cares. You’re an anchor for him, an important other half that he grew used to until you became a firm molecule of himself. Kind of belonging to him the way best friends of an eternity do.
Your sister waits for you to continue – there’s no question she can ask that you won’t answer yourself in a minute, she knows. And as you know that she knows, you speak on. “We went to a study group today, his crush joined, he left with her and he hasn’t come back since.”
So annoying that your thoughts have to fall off your tongue in the form of actual words. So annoying.
“We’ve been sleeping together for weeks–”
“Hey,” she interrupts when your voice grows louder, a little more frantic. “What’s the deal between you? Did he ever say he wants to stay friends? Or is it just you two struggling with communication?”
“He kind of said he doesn’t want anything between us to change, and he… He looked scared when he said it.”
There’s an urge in you to defend yourself, and to talk him down to feel better about yourself. But as soon as you feel the desire, you feel regret, too – because you never tried, right?
You never denied his answer, never told him that intimacy with him meant everything to you. That you still think of the way his breath fell hot against your wet shoulder under your equally hot shower.
“That’s a standard move after the adrenaline ebbs down.”
Your sister’s argument is followed by an odd echo, and you press your phone closer to your ears, shutting your eyes to hold onto the hope. “What does that mean?”
“Well… It’s like. He sleeps with you, perhaps has some hidden feelings for you, too, but then realizes he needs to say some fucked up shit like that, so you don’t mentally run away the next morning.” She rambles down the possibility faster than your mind can comprehend. “He wants to preserve the emotional connection in your relationship. Breaking it would suck.”
Does what she’s saying make any sense? You’re not sure, because it sounds too far from anything that could actually be in your platonically established relationship with him.
“I’m not saying I’m absolutely right,” she immediately argues, urgency in her voice. “But he seems easy to talk to, and I don’t think a conversation would cause too much harm.”
A conversation? No fucking way.
“You know, that’s what everyone says, and then one gets rejected and the friendship breaks and like, I can’t really afford moving out and–” Your ear sighs in relief when the rough press of your device vanishes, and you look at the time and three notifications; none relating to him. “He hasn’t even called or anything. And he promised we’d come home together.”
“But he even calls you when he’s drunk somewhere.”
“Yeah… Yeah, that’s my point.”
“No. I mean, he calls you every single time. Not doing it once doesn’t mean much when he’s done it every other time he wasn’t home, or surrounded by a hundred other people who’d keep him busy.”
She’d know.
She was there once, weeks ago, visiting you when she witnessed Jungkook’s endless yabbering; it didn’t die down until he cut the line to call a cab. The TV show you’d prepared for your and your sister’s night together went down the drain, because drunk-as-all-hell-Jungkook needed all the care his best friend could provide.
She didn’t mind – she watched from the sidelines, endeared by the ever blossoming friendship that held him and you together.
You think that was the ultimate shift that threw you off the cliff’s edge, when you’d realized for the very first time what you truly felt for him. The conversation on the phone. The moment he arrived back home. The smile and everything that happened before the night ended.
You remember.
Showered and provided with food, you tucked the drowsy man in; he was conscious enough to ask, “What did I say when I called?”
Yeah. You remember. And you don’t think you’ll ever forget, even though you knew even back then he wasn’t going to remember the next day.
“You just called to say that–” You smiled, and your eyes dropped to where his fingers wrapped around your palm loosely, holding you with more fondness tonight than usual. “That…”
You leaned in, brushing his hair back and clearing the path to his ear. He smiled and backed away an inch when your breath tickled his skin, and you whispered a minute worth of a summary before you straightened your back again.
“I said all that?” He asked, perplexed, barely believing he was capable of more than endless banter.
“You did…”
“Okay. I meant it then. I can feel that I meant it for sure,” he blabbered, nodding as his eyelids sunk. He tightened his grip around your hand, thankful that you were talking him to sleep, and brought your knuckles to his cheek. Addressing your older sibling, he spoke, “Dunno if she can hear me, but tell her she has the best baby-sister-pumpkin-brat ever.”
A peculiar night. A stark contrast to today.
You snap out of the fleeting, blissful memory when your sister’s soothing voice breaks through to you, prodding again. “And you remember what he said when he went skiing with some of his other friends years ago? When he called?”
God, that was ages ago. You didn’t live together back then.
“That he should’ve taken me with him,” you recall.
That your stupid pumpkin hugs are warmer than the stupid fireplace.
“And his first outing alone after you moved in together? His cousin’s karaoke party.”
You hesitate. “That he was leaving earlier and bringing me some snacks from there.”
“And why did he do that again?”
“Because he knew I hadn’t eaten yet.”
It’s an interview. One that brings back the ache of lost days, when you didn’t know what he was providing for you to cherish before it was over. You wish he’d just at least send a message now.
Something about his lasting absence mixes your sadness with light anger. Anger toward him, but mostly toward yourself for falling so deep.
Your sister doesn’t back down; in fact, she sounds like she’s warming up, scouring through the pages of a mental notebook that lists every of your and his core moments. “What about the time be–”
“I got it…” You tell her with the click of a tongue, though you can’t hide the slight chuckle that interrupts your burning irritation.
“Yeah,” she says firmly. “He could’ve been wetting his dick somewhere, but he ran home to you, because it’s you he cares about the most.”
“He did get his dick wet a few times.” Ugh. There it is again, the unwarranted fury that you’re sure you’ll carry to the moment he comes back home. “Brought home girls other times, too.”
“Aren’t those the times you’d be asleep and wake up to missed calls from him?”
Shit. Okay.
She’s definitely keeping tabs on your relationship with him, documenting everything for a moment like this, when she’d be able to conveniently rattle down all arguments as to why he might be irrevocably in love with you. Big question mark.
Reminiscing about the moments she mentions, you curse at the dependence he’s developed toward you. Swearing at the way you’ve gotten used to him. If you hadn’t – if you’d listened to your friends’ vehement prophecies that you’d fall for him one day – you might not have found yourself in this very situation.
Maybe it’s a flaw the both of you sport. To rely on each other too much; to showcase utter independence and strength unless the topic and affection shift to each other.
And maybe it’s even a flaw to let your sister’s words get to you; to let the tender sparks of hope light your veins along your body. Up to your neck and your jaw where his lips have been carving his name for weeks now.
Hope and vexation keep clashing – forming an explosion that’s followed by another round of silence.
Once your sister bids you goodbye, the silence continues until Jungkook arrives at your place way after dinner time.
Only today, you ate alone, feeding the hunger and thirst that the overthinking caused. You don’t think he’s eaten yet. His lazy, slow steps and sunken face reveal that much – he always looks exhausted like that when he’s starving.
But instead of making a beeline to the kitchen, he lets his backpack fall near the living room door, immediately stepping to where you lay on the couch. He takes a seat at your feet with a quiet groan, placing a hand on your shin with a sigh.
“What?” You ask, decoding his stare as a hidden question.
“Jin and Tae gave me an earful.”
Oh. Shit. What if they…
“What did they say?” You ask, keeping your voice steady. As unbothered as you can muster. You want to find out about your potentially common feelings, but you can’t break right away.
He deserves to see you pissed.
His head drops and he rubs his forehead and eyes in fatigue. “Just that I should’ve brought you home. And I guess they’re right, so–”
“It’s okay,” you say with a laugh. One that you can’t help but let out with a slight mock. “I know where we live. I hope you enjoyed yourself, though.”
The biggest idiot in the world could probably tell that you don’t mean anything you’re saying. So rightfully, Jungkook looks taken aback, blinking. “What’s going on? Even those two seemed kinda pissed.”
Ironic. Wasn’t it them setting Jungkook and Hayun up in the first place?
You choose to withhold your answer, and he tries again as he calls your name. “Hey.”
Nothing.
“I’m trying to talk to you,” he prods again. “What’s up, Pumpkin?”
Even if you decided to speak up now, there’s hesitation in the back of your mind. One that doesn’t allow you just yet to lay your feelings open. If he’s this clueless, you might just embarrass yourself.
And you’re in absolutely no mood to explain yourself. You can’t burst into tears again – and anyway, as someone who promised to stay by your side, he should probably figure it out himself.
You choose silence.
When none of his attempts succeed, he looks to the dark screen of the TV. He sucks his lip in between his teeth, thinking about something you can’t figure out. And when nothing pops up, he gives up with yet another sigh, stands to trudge to his room and shuts the door behind him.
You guess he’s just changing, because two minutes later, he walks out in pajamas. Another shirt you crumpled up a few days ago; it reminds you of a lewd and coarse night. The memory isn’t as euphoric anymore.
Languidly, sparing you just a brief look, he walks past you and to the kitchen. You listen as the fridge opens and dishes clatter. Hear the sounds of the microwave, the way he downs two glasses of tap water.
All this time, you’re tense. You can barely focus on what your book contains, the letters in it blurry. You let his evening preparations fade into background noise, and only snap out of your reverie when you hear him ask, “Do you want some, too?”
He’s standing in the middle of the room, his favorite bowl in his hands. You guess his meal consists of rice or some improvised dish, because the scent doesn’t remind you of your own dinner. He knows you’re fond of his spontaneous cooking skills… But tonight, you can’t find the strength to say yes to his presence.
“No. Thank you.”
“Have you eaten?”
He shifts, standing around awkwardly. When you nod, he does, too. “Okay. Good.”
And then he’s gone again.
After that, he doesn’t speak a word to you all night. You don’t bother to approach him either, sulking and drowning in your stupid misery. From afar, you hear the sounds of his laptop keyboard and of some paper, and you assume he’s using the rest of the day to study more instead of going out again.
Probably not feeling it, either.
You think you manage a chapter or two, somehow skimming through the pages until you realize that you’re not enjoying the book. You close the novel, dropping it onto the table and yourself further down the couch.
Before you know it, you’ve dozed off – before you know it, you feel a soothing blanket fall over you. Soft like snow. You open your eyes and see a figure hover above you, leaning in carefully, and you nuzzle into the warm, sweet scent of the blanket.
It’s his, not yours. And he’s standing there, in the nearly full darkness. There’s a flickering golden shimmer in the room – he’s lit the Jasmine scented candle on the coffee table, calming you in your sleep when you worry too much.
He backs away slowly when you move, whispering although there’s no one else in this apartment to disturb. “I was gonna wake you up to get you to your room, but…” You can’t focus much yet, but you know he’s pausing to swallow. “You seemed fast asleep, so…”
“I don’t think I was. Just in a half-half state… But thank you,” you tell him so quietly he can barely hear.
You wait. Looking around, but your eyes can’t focus on the digital clock. “What time is it?”
“Almost two in the morning.”
“Why’re you awake?”
You’re still too drowsy to realize what his silhouette is doing, but you imagine he has his hands in the pockets of his joggers. Shrugging. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Studying?”
“No.” He hesitates and hums. “I mean, yeah, I tried earlier, but I couldn’t really memorize anything. So I tried to sleep.”
The constant repetition of trying is concerning. Jungkook falls asleep quickly – the rare nights he turned and tossed were ones that occurred during deeply troubled times.
“What’s up?” You ask.
“Nothing. I guess I wasn’t tired enough.”
His voice moves from above you to next to you. Closer as he sits down on the couch again, dry sounds of hands rubbing mixing with your question. “But you don’t seem okay, so… What’s up?”
Jungkook doesn’t speak for what feels like several minutes, even though not more than ten seconds could have passed. He keeps on rubbing his hands, breathing out. You adjust to the darkness a little, your vision clearer.
You shift to sit up a little, tired of the steady darkness. You see his pout, the very slight sadness and insecurity in his eyes, averting your gaze soon enough.
“You’re mad at me,” he mumbles.
Of course he knows. He always does.
“I’m–”
“Don’t deny it, though, please,” he interrupts. “I know you well enough.”
He nods slowly, sucking in his lower lip again. Still not looking at you, he fidgets with his fingers. He cracks one of his tatted digits, but stops when he remembers how much you hate the sound.
“Okay. I won’t,” you tell him, leaning back again. “I’m mad at you, but…” You close your eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“But we always talk. That’s our thing.”
There are a lot of things you consider your thing. A myriad of gestures you believed yours: Secret habits, silent routines or deeply rooted care showing in big and small things.
The bottled up emotions you’ve been suppressing since teenagehood catch up with you, and suddenly, you’re burning inside. Regretting what you say the moment it slips out. “Not abandoning each other for a hook up is our thing, too. Or was at least.”
Cue, bambi eyes. Confusion laced, squinting, head tilting. “What?”
“You know what I mean…”
Or maybe he doesn’t. Given the fact that he was gone for hours, you thought it’d be obvious – and still, it takes him a scratch of his ears and a defeated sigh from you until he shakes his head. “It’s about Hayun, isn’t it?”
Is it such a hard thing to figure out?
You know this man. You’re sure he understood his mistake the moment he came back to the study table, devoid of you, and found his friends barking at him. He must be pretending, and you don’t understand why – perhaps because it’s easier to brush issues aside instead of explaining them.
“Jungkook…”
Your voice comes out more desperate than you intended; and his words of defense fall out of him more piqued than you expected. Maybe he had the same talk with Jin and Taehyung. Can still not grasp why this conversation of mutual annoyance is even happening.
“No, I–” He stops your sentence, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t get it.”
For a second, you’re not sure what to say. Because you’re confused. There was guilt in his eyes when he came home, when he tried to speak to you, and when he sat down a minute ago. Now, there’s exasperation.
As if he feels bad that he hurt you somehow, but can simultaneously not figure out what catastrophic misdeed he did.
You think briefly, and then respond, “Me neither. It’s a stupid thing to be hung up on.” Which is true. You don’t own him; you don’t claim him, there should be no expectations. But. “But I just– still wish you’d kept your promise.”
“What promise?”
“You were supposed to stay, because I barely know these two.”
Your cheeks are heating up, the blanket suddenly too warm. You make an attempt to calm your tone, blinking, because he doesn’t deserve the harshness you brought upon yourself. You continue quieter.
“And yeah, I said I know where we live, but you were supposed to come home with me.”
Acting like you’re the heartbroken girlfriend who waded home through the rain, entirely without her deceiving, immoral boyfriend on her side is wrong. So much is wrong about this situation, and you hate how much it lacks actual logic. Or sense.
Jungkook’s back straightens, broad shoulders lifting a little as he delivers more fiery arguments. “You were talking to them just fine. And you wouldn’t stop looking at Jin anyways, so what’s the problem?”
So he noticed? The apparent flirting between his friend and you. Did it bother him?
“It would’ve just been nice if you hadn’t let yourself distract so easily,” you say, unable to stop the fight from emerging. You’re caught in the same hot fire as him and it will leave nothing but guilt and regret once it burns out. “I know you like sleeping with pretty girls, but… This was the first time you left for one.”
“This has nothing to do with me sleeping with people.”
“I just–” He voices a silent nah in between, mumbles something else, and it irritates the hell out of you. “Listen, I just don’t want to be another fling among so many, I’m your best friend!”
No. No, this is not going as planned. The both of you have always been too chill with each other to be trapped in angry moods and words. This isn’t normal between you…
“What the fuck. That doesn’t make any sense, you’re just pulling this out of your ass now!” Jungkook snaps, his laugh intimidating. “I haven’t– this is…”
In his irritation, he struggles with words. Sounds unsure somehow, like he wants to be angry, but like you caught some of the truth still. Like he can’t deny that you’re another hook up he’ll forget about one day.
So you ask, “Do you insist on protection with me, because you’ve been sleeping with other girls, too?”
You must admit that it’s a brave question. It only dawns on you a moment later that the answer might crush you. But instead he shakes his head firmly. “No. No, that’s not it. And you’d know if it was.”
That’s not it, but something is. The conversation is jumping back and forth too much, but you’ve grown courageous and let out the thoughts that have been haunting you for days.
“But you have a reason.”
He must. For the insecurity in his eyes when you claim you’re on the pill. Or when he brushes off your suggestions to slide in bare fast.
But to your chagrin, he dodges your question and says something else instead. “I don’t know what you think happened today, but it didn’t go this far.”
“Not this far?”
“No, seriously stop–”
“But something did happen? Did you kiss or–” You stop talking when he rubs his face with his hands, groaning into them. When he tangles the fingers of both hands and presses them against his mouth, you see the growing anger in his usually gentle eyes. “I actually… I don’t need to know.”
He swallows, still looking at you with hooded eyes. Waiting for something, presumably to calm down, and then he clicks his tongue and speaks again. “Is it really just about sex? Or whatever the hell you’re thinking of.”
There’s something about the calmness in his voice that changes the atmosphere. Not necessarily because the volume of the conversation has dropped so low all of a sudden.
Maybe it’s the fact that he’s still sitting here, trying to solve a problem when he could easily run off to his room and leave you heartbroken in the darkness. That he’s trying to keep himself composed, ready to talk things out.
So you take a deep breath, too. You rewind to the afternoon, replay the moments, feeling again what hit you hours ago. And then, you give the convo another try.
“No… I wish it was. It’s about how humiliated I felt today. About how you just dropped me after I told you how shitty I was feeling these days.”
Humiliating that even your friends know about my feelings for you now while you left with another girl, you almost say.
It’s not a tactic to guilt-trip him. It’s one genuine reason for your mood, along with all the others that you cannot blame him for. In fact, you’ve been feeling shitty because the ambiguity of your relationship is fucking with you – and that’s not entirely his fault.
That you wanted to soothe those worries with his presence was always destined to be your doom anyway.
But his actions still didn’t feel good…
“It’s not like you or me or us to do such a thing to each other. So on top of all the stress, it just hurt, Jungkook.”
The room goes quiet. Lit in dim hues, the expression on his face falls and the pout returns, eyes bigger now. He looks down to the hands that dropped to his lap, and you think he swallows.
“I’m sorry,” is what he then murmurs.
“It’s… It’s fine.”
“No. It really isn’t.”
Despite your disappointment, you feel a sting somewhere deep in your heart. There’s something about Jungkook’s guilt that is sharply painful.
Because he usually isn’t one to hurt people. He’s sweet and gentle, a pure soul despite his occasionally crude or teasing remarks. Caring and soft – so you guess, him realizing he made a mistake hits hard, not only him, but you, too.
When you start pulling your legs in slowly, he uses the movement to lift the blanket off your feet. He pushes your legs away slightly, but enough to force you to fold them, putting yourself in a proper sitting position until you’re facing the TV.
Shifting closer, he drapes the blanket over his body, surprising you when he stretches out an arm to sneak it behind you. You understand that he’s trying to hug you when it’s too late, and still stubborn and sad, you attempt to resist his touch.
His fingers press into your shoulders, hands gently pushing your resistant digits off his chest. Overwhelmed by feelings, you don’t realize the dampness in your eyes until you sniffle, stop fighting and hear him ask, “May I?” He wraps his digits around yours, hidden under the blanket. “Please.”
Another sniff. Your fingers are entwined. He leads your palm and arm along his tummy and chest, making you wrap your limb around his torso until you’re in a half hug. Pulls you close until your ear rests against his heartbeat; the hand on your shoulder wanders to your waist.
He embraces you tight, and when he speaks again, you laugh. “Hug me harder.”
Because it’s something he does and says every single time you feel down. Joking around, forcing you to almost asphyxiate him until he’s playfully groaning. It’s an effective remedy for you, and it belongs to you. To him… To the both of you.
A gesture so tender is bound to tie your throat. The tears don’t quite escape, but your voice is shaky. Suddenly, the expected guilt washes over you. You were mean to your best friend as much as he was to you, even if unintentionally. And knowing this hurts.
“I’m sorry… I hate letting stuff out on you, and I– I know it’s not okay now, but it will be later, and I shouldn’t hav–”
Words tumble out of you like a waterfall, despite the cracks in your voice, but Jungkook squeezes your body once and shuts you up with a shhh. “You’re not allowed to apologize, Pumpkin. I was a douchebag, and honestly, it’d even be okay if you wanted to punch me.”
He leans back, looking down to your nose and eyelashes. And when you stare back, he lifts his jaw, tilting his head. “Here. Do it, I deserve it.”
“No,” you tell him with a chuckle, pushing his face farther away.
His laughter vibrates against your face when you place your cheek on his chest again. He feels warm, comforting; like the man you love, but also like your best friend. You want to wrap your legs around him and melt into him. Cry a tear or two.
And he makes it worse.
“You know I adore you, right? That you mean the world to me,” he says.
He doesn’t mean it the way you want him to. But he means it nevertheless.
“Yeah,” you confirm. “I do.”
“I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. You know I wouldn’t, I mean you… You’re my girl, you know?” Another dim jab directly to your chest. You sigh. “I don’t fucking know what I’d do without you. Those fights, they feel… Crappy.”
“I know.” You shrug your shoulders. “You’re just… We’re just idiots sometimes.”
“Yeah. And I was the biggest jerk today, and I’m sorry. Okay, Pumpkin?” He taps against your waist, then puts the same hand on your arm and rubs it gently. “I’ll do anything to prove it, too. Get a pumpkin tattoo for you.”
No matter how much your affection for him hurts, it makes you smile along with his words, too. You bury your face in his cotton shirt, resisting to kiss the spot over his heart. “You don’t need to.”
He imitates your sigh, and his shoulders drop, like he’s giving into the sudden peace that followed the storm. Your body doesn’t succumb to said peace or exhaustion, your muscles still tense – until his lazy lips roam your hair. Breathing against your scalp, coming down to kiss your temple.
His touch lingers there, a gesture to show tender affection, now that the harsh words have subsided. And still, your mind wanders from his adoration for you back to the loneliness of tonight. You lift your face and turn it, watching the flicker of the candle.
“Do you still have a crush on her?” You then ask.
To your relief, he doesn’t act or stay oblivious to what you’re referring to, and for a moment you think it’d be better if he did. If he was caught up in the moment with you enough to blend out any other hers.
Instead, he throws a question back. “Why are you asking that?”
“I’m just… curious.”
Behind your back, you feel him shrug. He procrastinates as if the answer is hidden somewhere in the depths of his brain. And your assumption proves right, because, “I don’t know. I think she’s attractive, but–”
His tone is hesitant. You don’t think he necessarily minds the topic, but that might be because it doesn’t evoke in him as much as you imagined. Even if he did share a kiss or whatever with her, his but suggests that he doesn’t dwell in thoughts about her.
“But I don’t think it was ever a full blown crush. It’s whatever, you know?” He responds.
“What’s a… A full blown crush to you?”
“Like. A sense of devotion,” he tells you. You might be imagining it, but you think his arm tightens around you. “It feels a bit like a virus. Takes over most of your thoughts, keeps you occupied…”
A pause, as though he’s speaking from his heart; collecting his emotions. His words sound real.
“This almost unbearable feeling of yearning that hurts a little.”
Jungkook always told you he likes the yearning. The subtle heartbreak and the bittersweet experience that love brings. Despite his jokester personality, Jungkook hides a big pink cloud behind his chest, and it’s filled with daydreams. Romanticizes the world a bit.
“And I don’t feel any of that with her,” he adds, breathing out the sentence softly.
“So…”
“I don't care about her that much if that’s what you mean. I don’t have super bad butterflies in my tummy or want to spend every second with her.” Which is what your pining consists of, you realize. “And… I know I sucked today, but I wouldn’t… I dunno, prefer being with her than with you or any other good friend on any other day.”
Apart from whatever happened today, you guess he’s not wrong. The conversation with your sister proved this much – he prefers being with you, like he preferred your presence instead of a campus party’s buzz.
You look up at him. He’s done talking, and you’re done asking about Hayun. It’s quiet, his eyes dropping; he’s close to you and your stare continues wordlessly. You actually think your eyes are saying a lot already – looking at him drives you crazy, and you can only hide so much.
But despite your silence, he realizes that you’re keeping something veiled; so he nods slowly, as if to encourage you to speak your mind. And you, led by his gentle gaze, take the chance in a moment of courage.
“Can you kiss me?”
You don’t think he expected it. But he doesn’t sound taken aback, yet gives back a question with a hum. “Hm?”
“I…” You swallow, blinking. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I want that right now, but I do.” It makes no sense whatsoever; he might even catch the sentiments in your eyes. But still. “Kiss me.”
He keeps looking at you. If he’s feeling proud of his effect on you, he doesn’t show it – instead, he looks somehow pained. The ache doesn’t only hide in his eyes, but then manifests in the tips of his fingers, brushing back your hair.
Silently, he lets the warmth of his palm rest on your heated cheek. His thumb wipes under your eyes, catching invisible tears, his focus on your lips.
And then, he leans in slowly and locks his mouth with yours. The touch electrifies you and freezes the blood in your veins. You’re mesmerized and confused about how perfectly his mouth fits yours, like two parts of one heart.
He kisses you delicately, tilts his head, then breaks the kiss to angle his face to the other side. His arm holds you close and wrapped in him, his hand flat between your shoulder blades. The fingers of his other hand settle under your ear, pushing you back unconsciously until you’re lying on the couch.
Despite the mixing of senses and touches, you still perceive all of his actions, and he only wipes that sanity away when his tongue catches yours.
When you gasp into his mouth, he grips your thigh, settling between your legs. You let your fingers sneak under his shirt, touching his warm back, and now it’s his turn to sigh and let go. To drift back to look at you for a moment, breathing not as steady anymore.
He searches for something in your eyes; you focus on the yellow-orange light on his face.
Funny how the lack of light caused the crack in your relationship in the first place; funny how the darkness seems to expand in your heart every time you remember he’s not yours.
Even if it feels like it right now.
His erratic exhales calm down once he draws a deep breath. You interpret the shaky inhale the way you want to – that it means he’s asking himself whether you’re real. This time, it looks like he’s feeling the same, but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say anything.
Only comes back to kiss you again, parting your lips, hands on your cheeks and in your hair. For the first time, you think he tastes different, but you don’t care. You let him kiss you; you let him touch you; you let him hug you close once he’s done, bringing your hand to his face to peck your knuckles.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers one last time, and when he goes entirely still, you think he knows. About every single thing in your heart.
The bitter truth?
You’re too selfish to ask if you’re right. Would rather lie here in silence, watch his reflection in the blank screen of the TV, eyes open as he watches you, too.
Another bitter truth:
If he lifted his head to press his lips against yours once more, bringing in further hurt, you’d let him again. Even if it doesn’t exceed physical lust for him; even if you can still smell an unknown perfume on him, extending the pain.
pt1 || pt2 || pt3 masterlist
author’s notes: !!! what do we think, do we like it?! i was so nervous about posting this tbh, so i rlly rlly hope you guys enjoyed it! please do let me know what you think and support it, it means alot!!
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taegularities · 4 months
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stars behind waves | jjk (m)
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Summary: With a decade’s distance between Jungkook and you, your paths cross on the same island you deemed your second home years ago. And you realise once again – the ocean can never compare to the twinkle in his starry eyes.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: estranged best friends to lovers, vacation/beach!au; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: so so much yearning and pining, gentle fuckboy jk cos i’ve no control over myself, a bit of jealousy, the first kiss, arguments/fighting, unresolved issues, heartbreak, angry confessions; explicit sexual content: making out, asking for permission, dom & big dick jk, handjob in the shower, oral (m. & f. receiving), some clit slapping, some biting, squirting, jk loves her tits... and her ass even more, fingering, protected sex, soft and rough sex, body worship !!, jk is SUCHHH a goner, he comes on her ass, aftercare, praises; so many emotions; lmk if i forgot smth! ➳ wc: 22.7k ➳ a/n: here we gooo !! @missgeniality​​ & @voiceswithoutlips​​ my angel betas, as usual, i’d be lost without you 😔  i’m really happy with how this one came out, so i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did writing it !! as always, don’t forget to drop a message in my inbox – it makes my day <33
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➳ listen to the SBW playlist for the full experience 💙  
TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs 
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There is a long lost beach somewhere at the end of the world.
It belongs to a blooming, floating island, pleasant and hot. Wildlife chirps hidden behind trees, calm and welcoming. There are waterfalls that must be somewhere in the middle of the island – you’re not quite certain anymore, since your memory of the place has weakened over time.
You do remember the sun that descended there, though – you always used to say it wasn’t the same as the one you admired at home, watching from your garden.
Jungkook would always reprimand you, tut at you, throw tiny little shells at your bare thighs until you, furied and irritated, abandoned him at the beach. He would stay there until the moon rose from the east, and you would watch him from afar.
He never walked away before you came back and sat down with him again, brushing away your prior fight to resume your conversation as though nothing happened. Your parents tended to observe your constant banter and the quiet apologies that followed; they called you tender and strange kids, and you guess you couldn’t quite disagree.
But to your defence, you weren’t the only child uttering peculiar things.
Jungkook loved to indulge in a world that defied science and nature’s rules. He liked to bend and twist images in his head, paint them new and refine them as he pleased. The bubbly, doe-eyed boy would explain to you that stars became closer the more you neared the horizon.
He had this detailed opinion that the flicker shining above the ocean was nice and all, but that it couldn’t compare to the burning stars behind the sea. The sky is infinitely nearer the further you swim, he used to tell you, the idea firmly attached to his guileless heart.
And this heart – it was bigger than the universe, too big to fit into that small body.
Because he enjoyed your smile; made sure to keep it plastered to your face.
One time, he pointed to the horizon and told you that there’d come a summer when he’d be big, old and strong enough to wade through the waves. Arrive at the edge, the big Behind of the ocean, and that he would dive back to you and bring you a handful of stars.
You were eight back then.
It was one of the first summers your families spent together, on an island that was a lot quieter back then, with only a tiny society living and breathing there. It housed a few cottages you’d rent to enjoy the beach for a few weeks.
And for a long time, it truly was a long lost beach for you, at the very end of the world, because the drive from your home to the island’s nearest town took ages. Then, you would step onto a ship that would bring you to the island, and even though it took just an hour or two for you to get there, it felt like you’d travelled for days.
Like you were travelling to a foreign world.
It was its very own world.
Now, there is a teeny tiny airport at the back of the island. You’ve come to realise that this place is not the end of the world, but the end of your country. And it’s not a lost beach either, but one you’ve turned into a stranger yourself.
You’d spend seething hot days on cruises with your parents, dig holes in the sand with your cousins or build castles with Jungkook. Stroll along the shore, throw each other into the water, grow up together and fall in love slowly, but surely.
That place… you don’t recognise it anymore.
You’re not even sure how you landed here. Maybe for the sake of nostalgia, weak to saudade. You’ve journeyed most of the world – or at least seen the places written all over your little travel diary.
That you’d ever go full circle and come back here, to watch the other sun go down and to let the new colours of dusk flatter your sight – you didn’t really expect it.
The ice in your cocktail has already melted. You don’t mind, though. You’re too busy looking around the resort that the island has become, hearing conversations between tourists that you sometimes understand and sometimes don’t.
Your cousin Seokjin, his fiancée and said fiancée’s best friend dragged your workaholic ass to vacation almost forcefully. The only demand you had in return was that you wanted to be able to decide where to go.
Seokjin has always been a fan of this place – just as long as you. So to say he was over the moon might be an understatement. But your beloved cousin was also the first person in your circle who blacked out before anyone else.
The first thing he did was empty his stomach of everything he ate on the plane. His fiancée Chae is currently “quarantining” with him in their hotel room, rubbing her darling’s back as though he has suffered a hospital-ripe illness.
In truth, Seokjin just doesn’t know which meals and drinks to mix. And he’s scared of flying. And he can’t handle eating in a moving vehicle.
He’s not truly sick – he’s just an idiot.
Chae’s friend Seoyeon, who you’ve met plenty of times and who excused herself to the bathroom, comes back with newfound energy and unwavering elegance. She puffs out a breath as she takes a seat on the bar stool next to you, praising, “The bathrooms are impeccably clean here.”
“They better be,” you respond, tapping your glass, “we paid a shit ton for this vacation.”
“I’m gonna be working my whole life to not feel guilty anymore.”
“This life and probably the next one, too.”
She smiles, her