Tumpik
#jungkook fic
lilyflowerguk · 2 days
Text
jungkook fic recs ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
some other jungkook fic recs
colour me in by @taegularities
alpha jeon by @pbandjk
sanguine by @caelesjjk
wicked by @adonis-koo
bad influence by @noteguk
an ode to a broken heart by @smoochkooks
cruel intentions by @explicit-tae
love to hate by @kpopfanfictrash
the lucky one (2) by @babystrcandy
our beloved summer by @moonbeamjin
all i want by @sxtaep
hell is empty by @aquagustd
stoic + redemption by @blue-jade
duty before love (2) by @blue-jade
yours, truly by @opaljm
please love me by @ahundredtimesover
inevitable by @ahundredtimesover
the love after by @ahundredtimesover
love lies by @kooktrash
boxer!gguk by @euphorajeon
concrete king by @bratkook
537 notes · View notes
citrustan · 3 days
Text
for what it's worth [1/3] (jjk)
Tumblr media
pairing: jeon jungkook x reader
genre: angst, fluff (this comes in a bit later), light smut, college student!reader x crush!jungkook
summary: you make an awful revelation about your crush of two years.
word count: 2.9k
warnings: none! except for the fact that this might read a teeny tiny bit creepy to some.
note: hello, here is me trying to give you this story before i scrap it because who knows? maybe some of you might not hate it! i need to edit it a little more but that happens later :) please tell me what you think! don't be silent! even if you think it's bad, i'd really love to know about it!
Tumblr media
“You know, this may sound delusional but I think he’s kind of into me.” You blush, hiding half of your blushing face behind your fingers. 
“Oh?” Jia smiles at you. 
“Yeah, I mean, I think so?” 
“What makes you say that?” Jia tilts her head, asking out of curiosity. 
“Well, during the whole ‘Antonio is homosexual’ discourse, he sided with me and he sat next to me for the third time this week--” You pause to take a sip out of your cranberry and lychee juice box, “And he drew in my journal. Roses and bunnies. There’s nothing he can’t do.”
Jia reached forward to play with your braided hair, “_____, is he, like, single?”
Anxiously biting at the paper straw that the café gave you, your response was immediate. 
“I think so. Nothing on his social media indicates that he’s, you know, not single. He barely posts!” you pout. “Jungkook’s so pretty, he could easily be a model. Super photogenic.”
“Hm, that’s true.” Jia bit her lip. “But what if he was dating someone? It would change things for you,” - “I mean, yeah sure, but I still think I want to confess when I have the chance to.” 
“Even if he wasn’t single? Isn’t that kind of an asshole move?” Jia snapped. 
Your eyes momentarily widen at her sudden outburst.
You grimace at her. “Um, yes. I wouldn’t-” you shrug, “if he has a girlfriend, I will not try anything, of course. But he doesn’t.”
Jia gave you a pointed look, “It was just hypothetical.”
“I know.” you pout.
It’s been a while since you first set your eyes on Jeon Jungkook. But never has the thought of him having a girlfriend ever crossed your mind. 
The first time you laid your eyes on Jungkook was at a mutual friend’s freshman mixer. You’d like to think you hit it off but couldn’t figure out how to proceed, with your schedules overlapping. Neither of you made the effort to switch around or make it work. So, you don’t feel too bad about it. You have never really crossed paths after that before he was out in the same class as you this semester. 
Most people know him as the secret weapon of the music theory and software development department. He’s easily the most beautiful man on campus but his smarts and personality somehow match up. You’re pretty sure if this was some shitty, unoriginal, K-drama, he could be the perfect second lead who never gets the girl he wants.
Naturally, after the night of the mixer, you couldn’t help but garner a small, minuscule, almost insignificant crush on the man; which has grown astronomically since then.
You can’t seem to understand what made Jia even ask you something like that. Unless---
“Why would you ask me that out of nowhere? Have you heard otherwise?” you suddenly interrogate her.
“What? No.” you hear her scoff, “I just realised we never discussed it before, ever.” 
She laughed it off while you stared at her, unconvinced. “I told you. Hypothetical.” she reminds you after taking note of your somewhat frazzled state.
Jia was usually never interested in anything you had to say about Jungkook.
Although, you’re able to catch on to some cues slowly. Jia gets annoyed when you blabber about Jungkook. It’s understandable though. You speak of him almost every single day. If Jia were to gush about someone to you, you couldn’t promise you’d receive it any better than she does.
Attempting to change the subject, you offer her a bite of your red velvet pastry, “I think they’ve stopped using the off-brand cream cheese.”
She opens her mouth, waiting for you to feed her.
You spoon a proper amount of cake to icing ratio and wave it in front of her nose.
“It does smell better,” She hums with a pleased expression on her face. “But, the overly sweet cake and bitter matcha was charming in its own way.”
An animated, pink, heart-shaped light bulb goes off in your head.
“Do you think Jungkook would like it if I brought him matcha or another drink? It’s a… you know, a gesture. Might put me on his radar.”
So much for wanting to stop discussing him.
You stare at her, eagerly waiting for her take on your little idea.
She snickered, but you swore it could be mistaken for a scoff, “Just leave him be.”
You quiet down but internally make a note to yourself to buy two cranberry lychee juice boxes instead of one tomorrow. Everyone likes cranberry, right? 
Recently, you’ve been finding Jia more irritable. Not just when you blab about some guy but even in general. You swore you could feel her distancing herself from you and that’s a chance you don’t want to take. 
Jia isn’t the only one on the receiving end of your love-foolish chatter. 
By now, you’ve discussed it with almost every friend of yours, excluding the mutual ones you share with Jungkook. Even the friends who don’t go to the same university as you know of your crush on Jungkook. Although, they’re more receptive to it than Jia. 
It’s embarrassing only if you really, really think about it. But, you generally brush the humiliation off as a secondary, less important issue.
Jia and your relationship started and ended right where it began--- at university. She’s your only friend in university with whom you share most of your classes, precisely six out of nine in total.
During your first year, you decided to stick together out of convenience, sharing a fashion designing and styling major and whatnot. It’s easier to latch onto each other when you’re expected to work in a group than find someone new and socialize at this level. The competition is pretty cutthroat, you wouldn’t want to risk working alongside someone you have no chemistry with. It’s too late for experimentation.
Jia, unlike you, lives off-campus and her bus arrives almost twenty minutes before your college shuttle that goes directly from the cafe to your dorm entrance. So, you accompany her to the bus station and wander off for a while.  
Remembering to run a small errand, you stop at a stationary store to buy ribbons and envelopes. Just in case.
It was a fifteen-minute walk to the store and back. You swing your fluffy, white bag and trot to your favourite place within a five-mile radius of your campus.
You liked to envision your relationships. It’s most certainly not healthy but Jungkook is just oh, so dreamy, you couldn’t help it even if you tried.
You stare off into the sky, daydreaming of your non-existent relationship with him.
You would write him love notes and letters frequently and decorate them with fresh, red, or pink lipstick stain kisses, maybe a few doodles and stickers as well. And when he’d buy you flowers, you’d do your best to dry them and preserve them so that you can look back at your relationship and swoon.
Maybe he’d take you to watch plays or concerts or maybe he’s the type to win you a stuffed toy at the carnival or to dress up for a theme party. And you could save the tickets and wristbands from those events.
You can’t even bear the thought of actually being able to go to a regular college party with him, being his date, the one who gets to dance on him, hold him and kiss him--- that’d disappoint quite a lot of people, you reckon. He is well-liked. A tiny bit private too. Maybe you could be his little secret. The thought of being his secret girlfriend turns you redder than a plum. Imagining yourself being his anything makes your heart pump blood twice as hard as the normal rate.
“Hey?”
Sigh.
“_____?”
Involuntarily, you respond to your name being called, “Huh?”
“Hey, you’re holding up the line.”
Your eyes focus on the familiar-faced cashier. An embarrassed giggle escapes your lips. You quietly apologised to the customers behind you.
“Joon. Hi, sorry. Spaced out.” you blush. As if he knows what you’re thinking about, he smiles fondly, “I don’t know if it’s cute or creepy that you think of him this often.”
Furrowing your brows, “It’s innocent! I’m not, like, harassing him or sexualizing him or anything.”
Namjoon scans your ribbons and the packet of off-white envelopes, “I’m only messing with you, cloud.”
You hum knowingly. “See you in class.”
You wave him off.
Cloud. It’s one of the nicknames lovingly given to you by your seniors, Namjoon and Yoongi. Yoongi says that you think miles ahead and higher than anyone else he knows and Namjoon agrees. But, you’ve always thought it was because you’ve got your head up in the clouds most of the time. It’s like a permanent state of consciousness. It is your only indulgence. Time goes by way too fast, you’re busy all the time. The only ‘escape’ is your silly little daydreams.
While people find your crush on Jungkook cute, sometimes you can’t help but put yourself in his shoes. 
You wouldn’t want someone like you crushing on you, so why would he? It’s one of the things that has stopped you from actually asking him out. Although, you’re nearing the end of the semester and the beginning of your winter break. Soon, you’ll have all the time in the world.
This time, you refuse to get too ahead of yourself and fantasize about your prementioned relationship. Perhaps, it’s ambitious or even egoistical to call it a premonition.   
You’re on your way back to the shuttle pick up point when you notice another oddly familiar figure. 
Jungkook!
You shake your nerves and walk as casually as you possibly can, to where he stood.
Secretly clearing your throat, you greet him with a shy smile, “Hi.”
When he doesn’t respond, you debate on shifting even closer, but that would be an awkward move and a serious invasion of his personal space. His dark hoodie seemed to interfere with his peripheral vision, too.
So, you tap him gently on the arm. His head swiftly faces yours, making you take a step or two back. “Hi,” you blankly stare at him.
Jungkook scrunches his brows, a little embarrassed that he doesn’t recognise you.
“Hey… how are you?” he recovers. “Good! A little cold.” you smile. 
It smelt like snow, but you wouldn’t want to creep him out with your odd senses.
Where did he know you from? He’s positive he has seen you before.
“Right, yeah. It smells like snow,” he responds.
That’s what you were going to say too!  
Your enthusiasm shows as you explain, “It does! I thought I’d scare you if I said something like that.”  
The corners of Jungkook’s eyes crinkle, complimenting the huge smile that adorned his face.
“I’m Jungkook. Or JK. What’s your name?”
Ow, you internally clench your heart.
Your face momentarily falls deep down into the ground, but you almost instantaneously pick it right back up.
The object of your secret affection doesn’t even know you. 
“_____.” you shyly brush your hair off your shoulder to your back, “We’re in literary theory studies with-” -  “Carmichael? Right! You’re Jia’s _____.” 
Whose what now? 
He nods, “I knew I saw your face before! I remember your elocution thing about Woolf. It left a mark on me!” He pats you on the back. Like you would a child. 
But, more importantly, Jia’s _____? You knew the girl had angelic looks and a godly personality, but- “Hey, is everything okay? I swear I meant it in the best way possible. I didn’t have much interest in literature, but ever since that speech, I’ve been focusing more on figuring out books by myself rather than depending on what the author tries to convey. It’s fun to be rebellious.” Jungkook elaborates when he sees your eyes dim.
You fail to register his compliments for a bit. A thousand thoughts are racing in your mind.
“_____?” Jungkook slightly bends his knees to get a better look at you.
“Mhm, right. Intentional fallacy.” you mutter. “I meant, thanks. I think?”
Although Jungkook’s a little confused, he nods anyway. “Yeah! I-”
Tilting your head to the side, you blurt, “How do you know Jia?”
Jungkook stares at you. 
“Sorry, I mean, I don’t know. She has never… mentioned you before?” you offer. 
“Oh. Well, I’m- Jia’s my girlfriend. She has talked about you a few times. Enough to know you’re good friends,” he blushes.
“Oh!” you squeak.
You clutched the bag of accessories tighter. You’re sure your nails have made little, crescent injunctions on your palm because of how tightly you gripped the handle.
“Yeah. She didn’t tell you it was me…?” Jungkook was starting to look worried.
“Huh? No, yeah.” You nervously laugh, “I must’ve glossed over it, I mean- you know.”
You’ve never stuttered so hard in your entire twenty years of living.
“Actually, yes, I believe she did talk about you. The- uh, the candles?” you suddenly, vaguely remembered Jia talking about making candles with an ‘almost boyfriend’ friend.
Talk about quick reflexes.
Just like that, Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief, “Oh, good! You looked like you were about to start crying. Because- well, she tells me about this girl with a creepy, schoolgirl crush on me or something. And for a hot second, I thought that’d be you.” 
You raised a brow. Way too many revelations are being made against your will. And your mind is empty.
“Yeah. I know it sounds strange, turns out I don’t even know this girl.” Jungkook looked down at his phone, “The bus is later than usual.”
It’s hard to make sense of everything. Why would he suddenly assume you were the girl even though you’re Jia’s friend? 
You press your lips together. “Do you think it’s creepy?”
“The- what?” He looks up from his phone, with his full attention on you.
“The girl. Who crushes on you or whatever.” You reiterate, “Do you find that creepy?”
Jungkook pauses. He tilted his head from side to side, deep in thought.
“Honestly?” He leans in closer to you and raises a brow, “Maybe a little. I mean, I don’t even know her. But, Jia does. They’re friends. Then again, maybe, creepy is an overstatement.”
You hum and stare at your feet. Sadness and cold do not go well together. This time, actual tears threaten to slide down your cheeks. You shift your weight from one foot to another.
“Why’d you ask?” Jungkook senses a shift in mood.
“Oh, just out of curiosity.” You flash him a small smile. It didn’t reach your eyes. Jungkook slowly nods and goes back to checking his phone for updates.
Part of you wants to admit to him that it was you because suddenly, Jia’s questions from earlier that day made sense. But then, you don’t want him to think of you as some creepy girl with a creepy crush. You weren’t creepy. People would’ve told you off if that were to be the case. They mostly encouraged you or at least didn’t stop you. With the exception of Jia, of course. Even then, she wasn’t entirely vocal about it.
Is it pity or sadism?
Was everyone hiding this from you? Did everyone but you know about it? You don’t believe that your and Jia’s friend, Sieun, would keep something like this from you if she knew. 
But then again, you never expected Jia to turn out to be so… sneaky.
Your sadness outweighs your embarrassment.
“Are you waiting for the shuttle?” he questions you with a raised brow. 
You open your mouth for a second or two before settling on nodding. 
“I don’t think the bus will get here anytime soon. It’s already snowed in on the fifth.” Jungkook turns the bright screen towards you. “We can Uber out of here before the snow sets in here. Unless you want to wait?”
“Sure,” you plainly reply. 
“Is that a yes to the waiting or?” Jungkook chuckled. 
“No. No more waiting. Uber’s good.” you softly spoke. 
“Great, I’m on it,” he affirms.
It’s still unsettling for you to have no natural, outward reaction to indirectly being called a creep by someone you admired for so long. Suddenly, your embarrassment skyrockets. 
You can’t comprehend your emotions; you feel like you’ve been punched in the throat with a stone brick. There are dead butterflies in your tummy--- moths. The wind feels colder, and you shudder.
You stare at the chipped nail polish on your thumb. 
A warm jacket suddenly dons on your shoulders. “You need it way more than I do.” Jungkook frowns, “Are you okay?”
You abruptly turn to him, thanking him gently for his jacket, “I was just cold.” 
You softly scoff, “You’re awfully kind.”
Jungkook pats you on the shoulder before he says, “Any friend of my girlfriend is a friend of mine! Plus, you’re cute.”
He’s really cheesy. Even though the single mention of Jia struck very thick, large needles in your tummy, you couldn’t help but smile at his words.
Au contraire to your expression, for the first time in a while, you’re not in the clouds but the complete opposite--- grounded, perhaps a more accurate term would be ‘devastated’. You’re absolutely, completely floored. Underground. Downright stumped. Confused. Definitely angry. 
You vowed to push your emotions away for the duration of your travel with Jungkook. 
Tumblr media
261 notes · View notes
btsgotjams27 · 3 days
Text
// All Grown Up ~ JJK | 14
Tumblr media
→ title: all grown up | series → pairing: jungkook x f!reader → word count: 41k+ → rating: R/18+ → genre/au: romance, fluff, angst, friends-to-lovers, humor, banter, smut, age gap, best friends little brother → warnings: noona kink, older woman, younger man, kissing, oral (m,f), unprotected intercourse, significant age gap (9 years), confident Jungkook, cocky Jungkook, bratty Jungkook, crappy mom, but overall Jungkook is the sweetest, most romantic boy who's fallen in love | warnings for each chapter will vary → summary: A family reunion brings back the young boy you grew up with. Though he wasn't the doe-eyed boy you once knew, he stood in front of you all grown up. → author's notes: I won't be updating this series on Tumblr. Please continue this series on AO3 or Wattpad. Links below. This fic is inspired by the k-drama, Something in the Rain. → author's notes 2: okay, so i do plan on editing the rest of this series! i just don't know when it'll be done.
Tumblr media
[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] prev | next ~ it'll never be the same
Tumblr media
→ chapter 14 ~ we can't do this | word count: 1.4k
When he got home, he excitedly called you to tell you the good news. Little did he know, you had already decided about your relationship and were heading to talk to Yuna. You saw his call and let it go to voicemail. You knocked quietly on Yuna's apartment door and held up a cute white scalloped box as she opened the door.
"I brought a peace offering."
Yuna recognized the cake box you brought, and her eyes lit up. "You're lucky I like cake."
She grabbed the cake and left the door open for you. At least she didn't slam the door in your face. You took it as a good sign. You walked in and pulled up a stool underneath her kitchen counter. The clinking of plates and forks was resounding loudly throughout the kitchen as the silence between the both of you grew. You swear the gulps you took could be heard from the next-door neighbor. Your eyes followed her as she furiously cut a slice of cake to put on the plate.
"Don't take it out on the cake."
"Should I take it out on you instead?" she said, half-jokingly threatening as she held up the knife.
"Okay--I get it. You're still upset." And Yuna had every right to be. You lied to your best friend and kissed her brother, amongst other things - but she didn't need to know that.
"Yeah, I'm upset. Wouldn't you be if you were in my position?" She roughly slid the slice of cake in your direction. You grabbed your fork and took a small bite of the heavily frosted rainbow cake. You looked over and saw Yuna using her fork to push around her slice.
"I can't remember the last time you were this upset at me."
She looked up and went on to eat her cake.
You cleared your throat, "I want to let you know that I'm not going to pursue whatever this is with Jungkook. I love and respect you and our friendship too much." It was a hard decision, but you'd rather not lose one of your closest friends, and for what? A relationship that probably wouldn't work out?
Yuna's mouth was full while trying to talk. "I already told him I was fine with it." She didn't look up from her cake, continuing to stuff her mouth.
Her response almost made you choke on nothing. "You did what?"
"Jungkook can do whatever he wants. I'm not his mom."
"And you're okay with that?" you asked wide-eyed. You were not expecting this when you came over today. Honestly, you were expecting her to scold you a bit more, maybe even get into a catfight, but in reality, her words would cut you more than her physical strength.
She shrugged. "I don't know yet."
You began chewing on your bottom lip, unsure what to do now. You had a plan and were ready to end everything with Jungkook.
"What are you going to do?" Yuna finally peered up from her cake, which was nearly finished.
"What do you think I should do? What do you want me to do? I'll do whatever you want." Your friendship was more important than a boy, even if it was Jungkook, even if he made you melt or gave you butterflies, which it had been a long time since someone had made you feel that way. But right now, your friendship is more important.
"I know you're going through a hard time right now, and you should sort out your feelings before breaking my brother's heart." The spite and tone in her voice told you that she wasn't okay seeing Jungkook with you, no matter what she said to him.
You silently scoffed. "Wow, that's not passive-aggressive at all. You're assuming I'll break Jungkook's heart."
Yuna set her fork down and crossed her arms. "I'm his sister, and it's my job to protect him."
You understood her position, and you'd probably do the same thing. "No, no. You're right in wanting to protect him. But what about me? Am I just going to be the bad guy in all of this?"
She stood there, unsure how to respond to everything, and you get it. You figured if this came out, it would be a little awkward between the two of you.
"Well...enjoy your cake. I'll see you if you still want to see me."
You reluctantly head towards the door, hoping that she will stop and tell you that she loves the idea of you and her little brother together and that if you guys ever got married, she would be your sister. But that was far from the truth. She let you go without saying anything else.
--
You were in front of your apartment complex and found Jungkook sitting on the steps with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He looked so sweet and boyfriend-like, and he immediately popped up to greet you.
"Hey! There you are."
You flashed a half smile as he pecked you on the cheek, and you slightly pulled away.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
"I just came back from Yuna's."
"Oh--I was just there this morning, and I have some good news! But why do you look so sad? Did something happen? Did she say something to you?"
Your lips were quivering, and tears started to form behind your eyes. Jungkook quickly put down the bouquet and cupped your face.
"Hey--hey–"
Streaks of tears began to fall gently down your cheeks and onto his hands. He wiped them as they came and pulled you into a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry, Jungkook. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry--I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
All you could do was apologize. Apologize for letting yourself get into this situation, apologize for letting yourself fall for him, and now apologize for breaking his heart.
He pulled away, rubbing your arms, then cupped your face again. "Don't apologize. You have nothing to apologize for," he said sweetly, leaving kisses on your cheeks, then he connected his lips with yours. You let him continue because you knew it would probably be the last time you could have him this way.
After being lost in the moment, you gathered yourself and tenderly pulled back from his lips. You longingly gazed into his twinkling doe eyes, trying to capture every last second you could before shattering his heart.
“Jungkook, we can't–”
He interrupted you. "Don't say it. Don't you dare say it."
"We can't do this, Kook. We can't be together."
There it was. You could hear Jungkook's heart shattering into a million pieces along with yours. Your heart began aching and throbbing, and you took it out and stomped on it repeatedly until nothing was left. He stood there speechless and trembling.
"We can make this work, and we haven't even had a chance to try," he said. His eyes were pleading with you, every ounce of him willing to do whatever it took to call you his.
You were trying to smile through your tears and sniffles. "I was naïve enough to think this could all work somehow," you chuckled, "I think I could have loved you, but we'll never know."
Jungkook was upset and frustrated that you weren't even willing to try. "I'm not giving up without a fight."
"Don't make this harder than it already is, Kook," you cried. You had already gone over every possible scenario, and it always ended up with you losing in the end.
"What did Yuna say to you?" he asked sternly, "If you don't tell me, I'll go and find out–"
He tried to walk away, but you pulled him back. "Kook--just let this go. Let me go. I'm not worth all this trouble."
"If you're not going to fight for us, then I will. You are worth all of this, and you're everything to me. Don't you understand that?" His eyes searched yours for answers, and he wondered if you wanted him as much as he wanted you.
"Kook, you don't even know me." It's true he didn't because you only let him see what you wanted him to see about your life. He didn't know about all the struggles you've had with your family, with U-jin, and with your health.
"Of course, I know you. I've known you my whole life, and I've been in love with you since I was eighteen."
You grimaced at his sudden reveal. He wasn't going to let you go so easily, was he? "Don't say that, Jungkook. Don't tell me things like that." How could he love you when you were a complete and utter mess?
"It's true. I love you and am deeply and irrevocably in love with you."
The ache in your heart was carving deeper into your soul. He can't be in love with you.
← previous chapter ~ the day he knew
→ next chapter ~ it'll never be the same
88 notes · View notes
jeonbunnie · 2 days
Text
heartbreak anniversary
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: reader x jeongguk
anon requested: “hello ♡ my request is an angst break up fic based on heartbreak anniversary with jeongguk please.”
genre: angst, fluff if u squint
content/warnings: flower shop!au, established relationship, unrequited love, breakups.
soundtrack: heartbreak anniversary — giveon
a/n: I had a lot of fun looking into the flower meanings on this one.I hope you enjoy it! (not beta’d).
word count: 2.4k
♪ Heartbreak anniversary, do you ever think of me? ♪
Tumblr media
You met Jeongguk in spring when the world was flush with pink, petals carrying in the wind, and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom.
It was your first week of college when everything was exciting and new and so scary to be off on your own. On the first day of class, you ran into him, erupting in a flurry of notes scattered throughout the air when you collided.
You were too nervous and deep into your first-day meltdown to see the meet-cute for what it was. But how could you not fall for him? After he helped you pick up your notes, he flashed you a dimpled smile to settle your nerves and then, in a gesture of sheer kindness, insisted on walking you to your class to be sure you were okay.
It was so easy to fall in love with Jeongguk. How could you not? With a face like that and a heart of gold, it seemed like you were fated.
He was your first everything. First kiss. First love. First time. And back then, it really felt like he’d be in your life forever.
You made long-term plans. After graduation, you’d move in together, finish up your graduate studies, get married and spend the rest of your lives together.
Although Jeongguk didn’t end up being in your life forever, he was only passing through.
He broke up with you in the fall, four years after that glorious first spring.
You only lasted a couple of months outside of college. It turned out that living together was all Jeongguk needed to realize he didn’t want forever. You never got to see him with the cherry blossoms ever again.
Now you hate spring. It reminded you of false hope and broken promises. All the plans you made together, so easily discarded, like the cherry blossoms that bloom only to scatter in the wind.
You hate fall, too. Because you can’t help but remember how the first of the leaves fell, sweeping across the park when Jeongguk took your hand and told you he wanted to end things.
“What are you saying?”
“I think we should take a break. “
“Take a break?” You asked through tears, “Or break up?”
“I just…. feel like I already have my whole life planned out. And it��s too much. It’s overwhelming. I can’t make any commitments right now; my heart’s just not in it.”
Jeongguk never said the words, but you knew what he really meant. You were too much. The look in his eye was enough to tell you that wherever his heart was, it wasn’t with you.
You remember how you felt on the walk home, cold and empty as the clouded gray sky above you. Ever since, gray skies only remind you of the day Jeongguk broke your heart.
It’d been a year since Jeongguk broke up with you. Almost two years to the day, a year, and seven months if you were counting (and you were).
You’re still not over him. You’ve been sulking in your apartment ever since the weather turned. Those cloudy, overcast fall days made you ache, and your breathing got just a little bit tighter.
Living in the same apartment you once shared was torture. Your days consisted of constant missing. You often lamented the space Jeongguk once took up: in your shared bed, wearing his oversized black t-shirt, staring at the box in the corner of your living room filled with the things he left behind (after a year, you should have returned them by now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it).
Mostly you sat with the terrible aching questions of unrequited love. How could he walk away from all the memories you built together? And did he think of you half as much as you thought of him?
Today especially, let yourself be a mopey, utterly pathetic mess. One minute you were on the couch whining to yourself about never finding love again. And then you forced yourself to snap out of it, dusted the crumbs off your shirt, and gave yourself a pep talk.
Jeongguk wasn’t the only one who could show you love. You could give yourself love, too. So instead of sitting around with a pint of ice cream, you got up, and went on a mission to your local florist: Spring Day Arrangements.
Okay, so you might have stolen the idea from some tik tok. But who cares? It got you out of the house, didn’t it?
Besides, the creator of the positive self-care page @loveyourself had a point. When was the last time you did something nice for yourself? When you thought about it, you really couldn’t remember. So you decided to treat yourself to one of your favorite bouquets.
The last time you received flowers, they were a gift from Jeongguk. Before you dated him, you used to buy yourself flowers all the time. So naturally, picking up your personal bouquet felt like a step in the right direction.
You took your time in the store, browsing around sunflowers, roses, and peonies before settling on the flower you always got: petunias.
The purple flowers always seemed sweet and dainty to you. You approached the florist, fully intending to ask for a bouquet of them, but stopped short upon seeing the slight grimace on his face.
“Is something wrong…” you glanced down at the gold-plated name tag on his apron. “Namjoon? Are they out of season?”
The man gave you a tentative smile, cheek dimpling with the effort. “Oh, it’s nothing like that. It’s just…those flowers have a negative connotation.”
You blinked in surprise. “Really? I always thought they symbolized hope.”
Namjooon hummed, wrinkling his nose a bit. “Mhmm… That’s true. However, they are mainly known to represent anger and resentment.”
Geez. And to think you intended to buy these as a gift to cheer yourself up.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to trouble you,” said Namjoon, reading the look on your face. “I just thought you might want to know if you were preparing a gift.”
You waved your hand. “It’s no trouble at all. I’m glad you told me, as I meant to buy the flowers for myself.”
You sighed, looking around the shop, eyes trailing for a suitable flower substitute, when your gaze landed on a sad bunch of confetti balloons. Across the front, the words’ Happy Anniversary!’ were printed cheerfully in primary colors, though the wilted spheres looked just as deflated as you felt inside.
“Those were the only flowers I wanted. But I guess I’m better off leaving here empty-handed, huh?”
“If you don’t mind, could I arrange something for you?”
You smiled at his kind offer. “I’d like that.”
“Anything you’d like in particular? Perhaps a color I can go by?”
You shook your head, “Surprise me.”
Namjoon smiled, mentioning that he’d be just a minute before disappearing in the back.
Alone, you tapped your fingers against the counter and then explored the lux flora. You admired daffodils, carnations, and lilies, tilting your face towards them, leaning in to breathe in their fragrance. When you heard the tinkling of the store bell, you paid it no mind, off in your own world. So it came as a surprise when you heard someone call your name.
“Y/n?”
You immediately freeze, dread creeping down your back. You anticipated this moment; you’d inevitably run into Jeongguk in this small college town but not here, in this little florist shop, on the anniversary of your break up.
The instinct to flee told you to duck behind the monstera plant next to you and hide, but it was too late; Jeongguk had already spotted you.
You sidestepped from around the flowers to face him even though, on the inside, you were panicking. This could not be happening.
Your heart was in your throat when, by the time, he stopped a few feet in front of you.
“Hi,” He breathed out, voice light and airy.
“Um, hi,” you croak out. You glance over Jeongguk’s signature black look, trying to focus on anything but those bright brown eyes that always made you melt.
“Wow…I-i didn’t expect to run into you here.”
That was an understatement. You wished you’d chosen something to wear other than your gray sweat set to run into your ex but at least you weren’t caught off guard in your PJs.
You picked at the bottom of your sweater. “Is running into me a good thing or a bad thing?”
“A good thing, really.”
Jeongguk’s voice was clear and even-toned. Still, it made you nervous to know you caught him by surprise.
Uncomfortable, you changed the subject. “What are you doing here?”
“Just picking up a gift,” he said, looking down.
It’s then that you realize he has a bouquet in his hands. Pretty red roses arranged in pastel wrapping paper.
“Oh,” you said.
A gift. Jeongguk said it so casually, like he was picking up groceries. But you know what those red roses meant.
He had a girlfriend.
Jeongguk looked down, long hair falling in his face as he lowered his eyes. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed, though it didn’t do much to soothe the pain in your heart.
“I should get going,” he said, looking to the side as he rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tick you knew all too well.
You nod, mumbling goodbye as you watch him hurriedly turn on his heel and stride toward the exit.
It dawns on you then that the person he bought those flowers for must be waiting for him. Maybe they were meeting on a date or spending a cozy night in; who knew? But the mental image of it, the mere thought of him devoted to another, shattered something in you—you couldn’t just watch him walk away. Not without an answer to the burning question that kept you up late at night.
“Jeongguk, wait!” You said, feet carrying you to the door.
Jeongguk halted in his tracks, one hand in the door as he looked back at you over his shoulder.
The words tumble from your mouth. “Did you ever really love me?”
Jeongguk’s eyes are wide, like a deer caught in headlights. “What?”
“I’m sorry I have to ask—I have to know,” you said. “Because I’m not okay. You ended us like it meant nothing like I meant nothing to you. And ever since, I’ve wondered, was any of it real?”
You spent months analyzing every aspect of your relationship, every last word, every message he sent, hoping to find proof that you hadn’t loved him in vain, but you couldn’t.
“Our breakup broke me, but you seem fine. You even moved on—and I don’t resent you for that, I don’t —I can’t understand how you walk away from me so easily,” you said, throat raw as you held back tears.
Jeongguk shook his head, a flurry of curls spiraling around his face. “How could you think that? Of course, I loved you.”
You don’t know if you should’ve felt relief or agony hearing the word ‘loved,’ but you listened to every word he said.
“It wasn’t easy,” said Jeongguk. He let go of the door and turned to face you. “Ending us was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was real. All of it was real.”
All tension leaves your body. Somehow, those were the words you needed to hear most. You needed to know that you weren’t alone in mourning your relationship.
“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wasn’t happy anymore.”
The words sound almost too good to be true. But when you saw Jeongguk’s eyes, soft and earnest, you knew he was telling the truth. You glance down at the bouquet in his hand, thinking of his new love.
“Are you happy now?”
Jeongguk nodded, lips curving into a small smile.
It takes all your strength to return that smile. “Then I’m happy for you.”
“You don’t have to say that—“
“I know,” you said. “But I mean it.”
And you did. Even though it pained you to know the truth, you’d be lying if you said you wanted Jeongguk to move on. You were still in love with him and probably always would be, but that didn’t mean you wanted him to be anywhere near as miserable as you.
And Jeongguk looked…happy. Even with the shock of seeing you, you could tell. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes were shiny and bright, and he had that look—the one he used to give you.
But this time, you knew the love there was for another.
“Someone like you deserves a lot of love,” you said. “I’m glad you’ve found it…even if I couldn’t be the one to give it to you.”
“Thanks…”
There’s nothing left to say now. All the words between you have been spoken. But a weight has been lifted, and there’s an easiness that you couldn’t feel before.
“It was really good to see you,” said Jeongguk, shifting on his feet. “Take care, (Y/n).”
“You too,” you whisper.
And though your heart ached to say those three little words—you don’t.
Instead, you watched the man you loved turn around and walk away from you again. The bell chimed again, signaling his departure, but Jeongguk hesitated at the door, his back facing you.
“I think about you all the time,” he confessed. “Especially in the spring.”
And then he was gone.
The silence that followed his absence was thick and heavy. You returned to the counter, lost in your thoughts. The minutes you spent in his company felt like hours, time so distorted you couldn’t help but startle at the next voice to grace your ears.
“Your arrangements ready,” said Namjoon, holding up one of the most stunning bouquets you’ve ever seen.
You gasped as he placed the blue and purple flowers in your hands. You gasped. “What are they?”
“Columbines, hydrangeas, and iris.”
“I hope they have a much better meaning than the petunias.”
Namjoon offered you a sympathetic smile. “I think these are much closer to the initial feeling you were going for.”
“They’re beautiful,” you said, still in awe of the delicate petals. How much do I owe you?”
“It’s on the house.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but Namjoon fixed you with a firm look that let you know there was no room to argue.
“It’s a gift.”
At his kindness, your eyes tear up. “Thank you,” you said, wiping quickly at your tears.
“You okay?” Asked Namjoon.
There’s a part of your heart that still feels a bit tender, but you can’t deny that a part of you was relieved at the little closure you found.
No,” you said, cradling the bouquet to your chest. “But I will be
53 notes · View notes
yoonivy · 20 hours
Text
nochu unsolved.
jeon jungkook x fem!reader
genre. cryptid hunting au, boyfriend!jk, smut, comedy, fluff.
Your boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, drags you out for a cryptid hunting adventure. It doesn’t go quite as planned…
warnings. thigh riding, dry humping, panty fetish, creampie, graveyard sex.
wc. 8k+
Tumblr media
Every year, it’s the same shit. October comes around and all of the sudden you think you’re brave enough to watch that scary movie that came out two months ago or play that new horror-survival video game that they’re advertising on the front page of Steam just because you wanted to get into the spirit of Halloween.
But you never learn – you are never brave enough.
Tonight, you realize that for the millionth time in your life as you clutch onto Nayoung’s arm while you’re hiding your facemask-covered face into the couch behind you because of another jump scare from the video game she was playing. On the other side of your roommate is her best friend Hoseok who was doing the same thing you were, except high-pitched screams were coming out of his mouth.
Nayoung is completely calm though, effortlessly shooting at the boss that just appeared without any aim assists while also stuffing her mouth with salt and vinegar chips. Even though it wasn’t even her idea to play The Evil Within 2, she was the one that got stuck with the controller in her hand after you tossed it to her when you chickened out at exactly 15 minutes into the game. She had told you and Hoseok that it was a bad idea and that you should just play the second episode of the new Life Is Strange instead but you both insisted that it won’t be that bad and the two of you will be fine. Obviously, you were both wrong because underneath the cute animal facemasks you were all wearing, you and Hoseok were pale with fright.
Through mouthfuls of chips, Nayoung mutters in mild irritation and with no hint of fear, “If this ghost bitch disappears on me again, I’m going to murder her bitch ass!”
“That’s the point of the game,” Hoseok reminds Nayoung, watching her play through a tiny slit between his fingers. As she grunts his way, he shouts, “NAYOUNG! WHY THE FUCK DO YOU NOT PICK UP EVERY ITEM YOU CAN?! BREAK THE MOTHER FUCKING CRATES! SEARCH EVERY DAMN DRAWER!”
“Is she still doing that? She fuels my anxiety every time she doesn’t collect the green goo!” You moan, still not looking at the TV.
“RIGHT?! SHE’S TRIGGERING MY OCD!”
“Oh my god! Are you two seriously backseat gaming right now?!” Nayoung screeches with disbelief, looking between the two of you, both still very much clutching onto her arms so tightly that it’s a wonder how blood was still circulating through them. “You guys can’t even look at the screen for two fucking seconds!”
“Y-yeah, we can!” Hoseok replies, then he leans forward to turn his head to look at you, the eye closest to the TV squeezed shut. “Right, Y/N?”
After an intake of air, you peel away from the couch to nod towards Hoseok. “Yeah!”
“Prove it, wussies,” Nayoung clucks as she makes the main character bust open doors to find the ghost Mama-looking monster instead of y’know, doing what any sane person would do, like hide and cower in a corner. “I bet you two $20 each that you can’t even look at the screen for at least 2 minutes without looking away or screaming.”
Hoseok snorts, “That’s the easiest $20 I’ve ever made…”
Nayoung laughs at his unusually high voice.
“Same here,” you agree with a weak chuckle.
“Hmm? Okay… Starting…” Nayoung trails off, shifting her mischievous eyes between the two of you as her character enters a new room. “NOW!” She cackles when you and Hoseok look towards the television screen and you realize how evil your roommate truly is because on the center of the screen was the creepy-ass ghost, turning around to look at the main character as she hums a spine-chilling tune.
You had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from whimpering, your eyes watering as she floats closer and closer towards the main character.
“Why aren’t you shooting it? Why aren’t you running away?” Hoseok asks as calmly as he could, voice trembling. He digs his nails unintentionally into Nayoung’s arm, making her hiss his way but he keeps asking more questions.
“Relax Hobs, she just wants to sing a duet with us!” Nayoung jokes while Hoseok keeps muttering, “Nay… What are you doing? Nay… She’s coming closer… Oh my god… Nay, oh my god, Nay… NAY!!”
You and Hoseok lose the bet quickly, screaming when the ghost appears in front of the camera in a blink of an eye, mouth wide to show off her long fangs covered with saliva, an ear-splitting banshee scream blaring out from the speakers. Then a second later, calm and collected Nayoung joins the scream fest as well when the front door suddenly opens - a tall, dark silhouette at the door as the light from the dorm hallway sheds inside the dark room.
As the figure lifts it’s arm up, you were all begging it to spare your lives. You were telling it to take the box of pizza on the kitchen counter and go, Nayoung was yelling how she’s too pretty to die, and Hoseok was telling it to take you and Nayoung instead of him.
Then the light inside the room turns on, revealing the menacing figure as just your sweet doe-eyed boyfriend with his finger on the switch. He looked so utterly confused with his brows furrowed and mouth parted.
While Nayoung and Hoseok bicker about what Hoseok said during his moment of fearing for his life, you brighten up and spring up from your spot on the floor.
“Jeon!” You happily cry as you run to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, face planting on his hard chest. With his own arm around you, he easily lifts you up so he could step inside the room further to close the door behind him.
“What are you weirdos doing?” Jungkook asks with a laugh as he scans his eyes around – from the funny facemasks, the food and drinks scattered around the floor, and the screaming a minute ago, it looks like the three of you were having a lot of fun.
“Playing the new Evil Within,” Nayoung informs him, and he perks up visibly, taking your hand to go closer to your two friends. Nayoung sighs as the game reloads the last save after the character died. “But we’re kind of stuck at the moment. This stupid ghost wench just won’t freaking die!”
On the screen, Nayoung makes the main character start running around again and Jungkook instantly recognizes the scene and says, “Oh, you’re not supposed to kill her at this part. I watched Taehyung do this last night.”
“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do?” Nayoung grumbles her question, kicking down another door while she blows away a strand of her red hair that has fallen over eyes during the earlier commotion.
“Can I try?” Jungkook asks as he holds out his hand for the controller. After Nayoung gives it to him, Jungkook expertly navigates around the abandoned building to find a drawer inside one of the hospital room. Inside was a key card, which he grabs and you all watch in awe as he runs to a hallway with a locked door needing that key card. He barely makes it out alive, hearing the sound of the ghost heavy breathing behind him getting closer and closer, but luckily he does and a cutscene starts up. As the room fills with applause from his awesomeness, Jungkook smugly shrugs and smirks. “Easy peasy.”
Hoseok says his ‘I told you so’s about checking every drawer and crates and annoying Nayoung in the process as she rolls her eyes to the high heavens, you pull Jungkook aside to the kitchen just a couple steps away.
“I thought you were studying tonight?” You ask him. A few hours ago, Jungkook had texted you that he will be at the library all weekend to study for his midterms next week.  
“I was… but I missed you,” Jungkook pouts, his hands on your hips and swaying you side to side. Squinting, you tilt your head because you don’t quite believe that’s the only reason he’s here.
“Alright… I have something very important to ask you…” Jungkook trails off as he holds onto your left hand and clutches it against his chest, his eyes wide and sparkling like the night sky, a soft smile on his kissable pink lips.
“Babe… Will you -” With his free hand, he reaches into his pocket and your stare follows every movement with a rapidly beating heart and a held breath. Wait… Is he going to propose?! Right now?! While you have a pig facemask on?!
“- go cryptid hunting with me tonight?” Jungkook proposes as he shows you a tweet on his phone:
Tumblr media
You let out a breath of laughter. You have to admit you were relieved but also somewhat a tiny bit disappointed. But still, you were in a great mood because you didn’t think you’ll be seeing him at all this weekend, and here he is now, waiting expectantly for your answer with that huge smile that wrinkles his face.
After watching the 15 seconds video about how Namjoon and Yoongi – two of the smartest students at your university who have this same odd interest as your boyfriend of 4 years – found clues of another cryptid in town and that they will be dropping hints of its location throughout the night, you swiftly nod your head at Jungkook as you sigh, “I guess I will. I know if I stay here, this night is just going to end with Hoseok passing out again.”
As if he couldn’t get any cuter, Jungkook pumps his fist triumphantly before leaning down to plant a big one on your lips. Surrounding you completely, Jungkook romantically dips you slightly while his tongue enters your mouth. Although you might not have the greatest breath at that moment – funghi pizza, salty chips, and sour patch kids aren’t exactly the best combination of taste – Jungkook passionately kisses you like his life depended on it. He only pulls away when Nayoung shouts for the two of you to get a room, but he murmurs against your lips, “I love you… My wittle piggy.”
Groaning, you turn away from him, peeling off your facemask. “You just ruined that moment, Jeon,” you tell him with a glare as he giggles. Then he pouts because he wants – no, he needs to hear you say it back. The two of you engage in a staring competition but it takes only a few seconds for you to give in with a playful roll of your eyes, “But I love you too.”
Tumblr media
Five hints have been released into the Twitterverse since you and Jungkook left your apartment 30 minutes ago.
Currently, you were inside Jungkook’s car, deciphering what the hints meant to the best of your abilities while he was inside the 7/11 he parked in front of to stock up on a few things for the night ahead. Hopefully he remembers to get everything the two of you needed because it’s probably going to be a long night.
This wasn’t your first cryptid hunting adventure with Jungkook. You’ve accompanied him to many of these excursions before. The first one was four years ago – a few months into dating him – and it was to find the elusive Big Foot during a camping trip with all your friends. You knew then that you must have really liked Jungkook to crawl and roll around on the ground like it was some spy movie to stealthily follow the creature he thought for sure was the hairy beast. In the end, it was just another fellow camper from the campground and you both went home that weekend with more than a dozen inflamed bite marks from the fire ants that inhabited the forest floors.
Another time that you went cryptid hunting with Jungkook was on the anniversary of your second year together. Jungkook surprised you with a trip to Emerald Lake Lodge in British Columbia, Canada as one of your gifts. You were so excited because it was your first trip alone together and the place was so amazing and beautiful. But you should have known that between the canoeing, sightseeing, great meals, relaxation and obviously mind-blowing sex, Jungkook had another reason for choosing that destination in particular. He had read in some subreddit that Nessie the Loch Ness Monster was seen swimming around there. You had to remind him that it can’t possibly be true because Nessie lived in Loch Ness, a lake in Scotland, hence the name. Jungkook played it off that he knew that (but it was obvious he did not) and so he started calling the Emerald Lake monster Bessie instead. Though finding Bessie was a bust, the trip was still both yours and Jungkook’s fondest memories.
There have been many more adventures and even though most (*cough* all *cough*) led to nowhere, you don’t regret any of it. In fact, you treasure all those strange - and a lot of the time, spontaneous - outings with Jungkook because you absolutely adore how excited your boyfriend gets at the possibility of finally seeing one of these mysterious creatures in the flesh. You also love how he’s not afraid to show you all these sides of him, and that in return, helped you open up to him too because before you met him, you usually didn’t like letting people in.
Because of Jungkook, you changed for the better and you just love him for everything that he is.
So that’s probably why you were out here right now, trying your hardest to pinpoint the location of an unknown and possibly terrifying monster despite being the second biggest scaredy-cat in the world after Hoseok.
Oh, the things you do for this boy…
Nayoung texts you while you’re waiting for Jungkook to return. She tells you not to die tonight because she doesn’t want to look for a roommate again and she adds a heart at the end. You text her back to worry about her dying love life more, and that she should finally tell Hoseok her feelings for him. You only get back an angry emoji from your lovely roommate.
As you chuckle to yourself, the backseat door opens and you jump with a yelp, startled enough to almost drop your phone. Looking behind you, you see that it was just Jungkook, dropping his big-ass, stuffed-to-the-fullest backpack onto the backseat. He grins when your eyes meet his. “Scared you, huh?”
You reach back to slap his arm. “Don’t do that, you jerk!”
Giggling, Jungkook shuts the back door and opens up the passenger door to get to you. After giving you a peck on the lips as a sorry, he asks, “So have you figured out where the location is?”
Shaking your head, you frown as you open up Twitter again. “Not yet. But I’m pretty sure it’s either at a cemetery or hospital…”
You show him the all the tweets Namjoon had written:
Tumblr media
“What…?” Jungkook sighs while rubbing his temples, brain hurting from all the tweets. “It’s like he’s just trying to tell everyone what a big nerd he is… Walking Dead and Elder Scrolls references? What is he doing? Everyone already knows he’s a nerd.”
“And what does that say about you that you caught all those references?” you ask with a cheeky smirk. Jungkook only replies with a playful glare before you both go back to racking your heads together to solve the clues. You also check the retweets and replies on the tweets and so far, everyone was as confused as the two of you but they also guessed that it was probably at a cemetery or an abandoned hospital.
“WAIT!” You were having a light bulb moment. “It’s an acrostic poem! LOOK!”
At the same time, you and Jungkook mumble together, “S… T… J… U… D…”
“ST JUDE’S!” you exclaim, both your fist in the air to celebrate.
“The cemetery!” Jungkook adds just as excitedly, hugging you tightly. In between peppering your face with kisses, Jungkook states, “Beautiful and intelligent… I really did hit the jackpot, didn’t I?”
Ego and heart swelling, you let Jungkook continue showing you his appreciation and adoration while you rub your nose against his.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Twenty minutes later, as you and Jungkook trudge around St. Jude’s cemetery, you were feeling everything but intelligent. You really wished you hadn’t figured out the tweets.
The cemetery was cold, it was dark, the ground was soggy and muddy from the rain earlier the day, and most of all, it was creepy as fuck.
The only reason you haven’t run out screaming yet was because your arms were wrapped tightly around one of Jungkook’s strong arms. His presence eased you enough to keep walking alongside him, though inside you’re a frightened mess.
While you were scared out of your mind, Jungkook glances around enthusiastically like a kid in a candy store. In his hand he had his Canon video camera, hoping to capture the creature on film.
What were you looking for anyway? Namjoon and Yoongi never specified…
Just as you ask this in your head, a new tweet from the Namjoon lights up your phone screen.
Tumblr media
“So apparently we’re trying to find a skinwalker,” you tell Jungkook and all of the sudden he stops at his track. Stopping as well, you don’t notice the way he tenses up as you ask, “What the heck is a skinwalker?”
Cursing under his breath, Jungkook hands you the camera so he can take off his huge and heavy backpack. Now you were worried, watching Jungkook bend down to the ground on one knee to rummage through his backpack. “Kook… Tell me…”
He smiles up at you when you flash your cellphone light on him to help him see the contents inside the bag. “Okay… so… do you remember Until Dawn?” Until Dawn? The video game that you watched Jungkook and Jimin play a few years ago, all through the slits between your fingers like earlier today?
“Yeah? But what does that have to—“ Oh… oh no… “Please don’t tell me they’re like those wendigos…” your whisper was barely audible against the sound of the harsh winds. Hugging yourself, not caring if the camera is capturing nothing but the material of your coat, you plead again, “Jungkook… please tell me they aren’t…”
“They aren’t!” Jungkook exclaims hurriedly, and you let out a sigh of relief. “They’re worse.”
“What?!” You choke out. “What do you mean they’re worse than a human turned flesh-eating monster with sharp nasty fangs and gangly long limbs?!”
“Well, skinwalkers are all that and more… They’re witches that used black magic making them turn evil and corrupted. They can shapeshift into any animal - most people have seen them as demonic goats. Their purpose in life is just to commit murder. Also, they don’t need to eat human flesh, but do it for fun,” Jungkook babbles, all too nonchalantly, while your mouth kept widening with every word he said.
“They eat… human flesh… for fun?” You repeat after him. When he nods like it’s no big deal, you smile tightly back, resigning yourself to your imminent deaths. “We’re dead…”
“Don’t worry! I have something that will protect us,” Jungkook says, finally taking out the thing he was looking for in the bag. At first, you couldn’t tell what it was until you shine the light on it. What the fuck… Is that—
“A GUN?! Since when do you have a gun?!” you screech quietly, eyes on the sleek, black gun in your boyfriend’s hand. Jeon Jungkook - pro-gun control - has a gun?! Maybe if you’re lucky, you were actually just passed out in your living after a particularly scary jump scare from the game and you are actually just dreaming right now.
“Since yesterday,” Then Jungkook winks at you, finger on the trigger and says ‘pew, pew’ as liquid squirts out of the gun. Laughing out loud, you should have known it was a water gun… But getting a whiff of the new smell in the air, your face twists in disgust – the contents in his gun is definitely not water.
Covering your nose so you won’t throw up, you question, “What is that horrid smell?”
“Like five bottles of Taehyung’s perfumes,” Jungkook shrugs, then he coughs and gags, sticking out his tongue before he hides his face into the crook of his arm.
“You mean… Five bottles of Taehyung’s beloved, designer perfumes?”
When he notices you squinting at him, Jungkook defends himself, “Hey! I’m doing him a favor! They all smell like ass! And it’s why he can’t get laid!”
“Maybe so…” But it’s Tom Ford, Hermès, Diptyque and Byredo’s ass that it smells like and it must have cost Taehyung a lot of money. Sighing, you make a mental note to repurchase the perfumes because if you and Jungkook make it out of this cemetery alive, Jungkook’s going to have another problem.
When Jungkook stands up from the ground, his knees were muddy and gross and so was the bottom of his bag that he hangs on his shoulders again. Frowning, you suggest, “You’re all dirty… Why don’t we just go home?”
“But… But…” Jungkook’s doe-eyes are wide and pleading.
“But what? You’re crazy that you want to stay here to look for a creature that wants to eat you alive with just a water gun filled with rancid-smelling perfumes to protect you!” you yell at him. You were contemplating on just leaving without him, bolting out and driving off. You’ll call Taehyung and Jimin of course, to pick up his dumb ass. But then he holds onto your hand and suddenly, you rethink your plans. Heading tilting to the sky, you squeeze your eyes shut, heading shaking as you chuckle. “And I’m even more insane for staying out here with you…”
A gorgeous smile spreads across Jungkook’s face but then a second later, he starts beatboxing.
“Wha… What are you doing?”
Taking the camera back from you, Jungkook records himself, “Y/N’s finding monster for this D.” He tilts the camera to the bottom half of him before recording his smirking face again, “Cryptid hunting and die for this D!”
“I hate you. So much,” you say between fits of laughter while Jungkook adds more verses to his little rap.
Jungkook joins you with the laughing, overjoyed that his dumb little joke made you happy and less tense than before. He loves seeing your smile and hearing your laugh. Truth be told, he was frightened as well, but being with you certainly took the edge off.    
That is until you both hear a noise, like someone or something stepping on a twig, and you both turn your heads towards it. There’s a shadowy figure in the distance, abnormally tall and lanky. It was hard to tell what it was, the air was quite murky, but it definitely doesn’t look human. It bends down and it seems to be feasting on something, and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming.
Then it snaps its head towards the two of you. Two pairs of eyes staring as it starts to growl.
Dropping the gun on the ground, Jungkook takes your hand instead and you both start running the opposite direction of the creature – unlucky for the two of you, it takes you further away from the entrance of the graveyard, where the car was parked.
As the two of you weave your way through the obstacles of graves and tombstones, the boggy ground didn’t hinder your hurried steps. You were running at a speed that you didn’t even know was possible for you, keeping up with Jungkook with no problem. It was probably the adrenaline and being scared shitless. You point ahead to a mausoleum and the two of you make a dash for it. Once inside, Jungkook shuts the door, pressing himself on it in case the thing tries to get inside.
Silence fills the pitch dark room as Jungkook had his ear against the door, listening for any movements outside. You should be catching your breath but you couldn’t breathe, too petrified to make any movement, to make any noise. It stays that way for a few minutes, then Jungkook sighs to break the stillness, declaring that it didn’t catch up to the two of you.
Jungkook flashes his phone light around the room, revealing a very small space with a marble tomb in the middle. While he walks around, filming the enclosed space, and lighting up all the candles on the ledge around the room he passes by; you call Nayoung.
She picks up after the third ring and you speak up before she could even say hello, “Nay, please help us, we’re at St. Jude’s cemetery and there’s a skinwalker here and—“
“What? Cemetery? Skin– You’re breaking up, Y/N!”
“St. Jude’s—“
“St. Wha—“
The line cuts off as you say Nayoung’s name again. Checking your phone, it was dead. All the tweeting and using it as a flashlight earlier had drained all its battery. Great, just great…
“Fuck… Jungkook, is your phone working? Mine’s out of battery.”
Jungkook nods, walking over to you to hand it over. You groan when you see that his phone did have the battery at ¾ charge but it wasn’t receiving any signal. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you hand it back to him. “No Signal. Your service provider sucks… Do you have a portable battery in that huge backpack of yours?”
“Mmm… maybe,” Jungkook hums, taking off his bag. Together, you both kneel on the ground to look through it, each taking out every item inside one by one onto the floor. Once the bag was empty, there was no portable battery charger to be found. Probably one of the most important items to have while cryptid hunting and yet, Jungkook didn’t bring it. Instead he packed unimportant items such as 3 bags of sour gummy worms, extra clothes, another bottle of Taehyung’s perfume to ‘reload’ his – now lost – water gun, a framed picture of his dog Miri, and –
“Please tell me why you brought two boxes—“ you hold up the items in question for emphasis, “— of condoms, instead of a portable battery?”
Jungkook grabs one out of your hand and points to the label, excitedly stating, “It’s new and it supposed to feel like there’s nothing there and —“ Jungkook gulps when you glare at him, weakly adding, “It’s not like I wanted to forget the battery. I was pretty sure I packed it, but I must have left it on Taehyung’s desk when I was filling up the water gun…” 
Standing up, Jungkook puts the camera down on the ledge and says, “I’ll just run out quickly to find a signal and I’ll make a few calls.”
Springing up as well, panic and anxiety doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling as you hold onto his arm to pull him back, “No! Don’t go out there!”
“Babe, I’ll be fine… I’ll only be out for a minute, that’s all,” Jungkook assures you as he takes your face with both his hands and stares into your eyes for an okay. Jungkook is stubborn, you know if you say no he’ll probably just do it later on anyways. If you don’t give him an answer right now, it’s just stalling the inevitable. Usually, it ends with a fight between the two of you, but you really don’t want to fight with him right now. So you nod, with a compromise, “But just outside the door. If you can’t get any signal, we could just wait until tomorrow morning…”
Smiling, he presses his mouth on yours and you kiss him like it was the last. Hopefully it wasn’t.
Then he pulls away to walk boldly towards the door, shoulders squared and head held high. Gripping the handle, Jungkook pulls but it doesn’t open.
“Well…Okay…hmm… ah… oh….” he grunts with every try, then he exclaims, “Okay yeah!” He looks back at you with a smile. “We’re stuck.”
“Oh…” You breathe in relief. Being trapped in a mausoleum is a bit creepy but at least Jungkook’s safe and with you. “Tomorrow it is then.”
Because of the flames from all the candles that Jungkook had lit up, the room was starting to get toastier. Jungkook sheds off his puffy black Puma jacket and lays it on the marble tomb, hopping up to sit on it. He pats the space next to him for you.
Isn’t it disrespectful to sit on a tomb? Jungkook notices your hesitation, eyebrow quirking up as he states, “Come on, I’m sure whoever is buried here wouldn’t want you to sit on the cold and dirty ground while a demonic creature is roaming around outside.”
Hearing demonic creature, you quickly jump up so you could embrace Jungkook. He chuckles as he tries to relax your trembling figure by running his hand through your hair. It was so comforting that your eyes slowly start to close, leaning your head into Jungkook’s calming presence.You only open your eyes again when you hear something dropping on the ground. Looking down, it was just Jungkook kicking off his shoes. He then stops combing through your hair to stand up.
“What are you doing!?” you question frantically, your eyes bulging as he starts pulling down his sweatpants.
Kicking away his sweatpants and now only wearing his tight grey boxer briefs on the bottom half of him, Jungkook grins your way with a shrug “I’m just getting comfortable. We’re probably sleeping here tonight, right?”
“Yeah, but—“
“My pants are all gross so I can’t lay down with it on. Plus, it’s getting really hot in here.” He climbs back up beside you and touches your coat, “You should at least take this off, babe.”
He was right, it was hot in there; you were sweating profusely underneath your olive green cocoon coat. Taking Jungkook’s advice, you peel off your coat and your boots and Jungkook watches with a grin as he lays down.
But you don’t stop there… Because although your jeans weren’t as dirty as his sweatpants – his knees were soaked from kneeling down earlier when he was trying to find the water gun -  the bottom of your jeans were streaked with mud from all the running and even that was uncomfortable.
Unbuttoning your jeans, you slide that off as well and stuff it inside Jungkook’s backpack before you settle down beside him, now only in your loose long-sleeve white t-shirt (well, it was actually Jungkook’s) and black cotton underwear.
Licking his lips, Jungkook stares brazenly at your legs which makes you stick out your tongue at him before you lay down and use his arm as a pillow. That only makes him giggle while he pulls you closer, loosely draping his other arm around your waist.
Cuddling inside a mausoleum on top of a tomb… Well this is not how you thought your night was going to end, though you can’t say it was terrible – even if there might be a flesh-eating creature outside. If you do die, this might an okay way to go.
Threading his fingers through your hair again, Jungkook starts softly singing a tune that you recognize easily, smiling into his neck.
It takes you back 7 years ago, when your best friend, Kim Jisoo, dragged you to a concert where her crush at the time was performing as the headliner of the EMO TRIBUTE BAND NIGHT, in his My Chemical Romance cover band. Before Do Kyungsoo’s MCR band came on, there was a band called Decaydance that performed first.
You hadn’t expected to get your breath taken away by the lead singer and guitarist on stage with the swooshy bangs, hair as dark as the eyeliner that rimmed his big, emotional eyes and the voice of an angel when you walked into that club that night. But when he started singing while gazing directly into your eyes like no one else was in the room, you were done for.
Where is your boy tonight?  I hope he is a gentleman. Maybe he won’t find out what I know: you were the last good thing about this part of town.
It was the same song Jungkook was singing at that moment because the cute emo guy eyeing you that night was��Jungkook.
Yes, Jungkook used to be in Fall Out Boy tribute band and yes, he used to be emo.
The first date the two of you ever went on was a Fall Out Boy concert when they came back from their hiatus in 2013, when both you and Jungkook started University. Though by that time, Jungkook wasn’t emo anymore. He was at that phase in an emo kid’s life when they transitioned into more of a hipster. It’s strange because it happened to Jisoo as well, and many other emo kids you knew during high school.
Now, Jungkook was neither emo or hipster, he was just… Jungkook.
Sweet, smart, a bit scatterbrained, quiet when sad, can pick up 4 of his friends at the same time with no problem, challenges you to ramen eating contests, loves to be showered with kisses all over his face, will watch with you your latest reality TV obsession even though it bores him to death, still plays Pokémon Go, buys you comfort food and sanitary products without any embarrassment whenever Aunt Flo comes around, white shirt enthusiast, and adores you with all of his heart Jungkook.
But obviously, he still enjoys pop punk music to the very core of his deep, dark soul.
For the next 10 minutes, Jungkook sings a medley of emo love songs for you consisting of I Caught Fire by The Used, Jamie All Over by Mayday Parade, I Must Be Dreaming by The Maine, On Your Side by A Rocket to the Moon, Still Into You by Paramore, Six Feet Under the Stars by All Time Low, My Beautiful Rescue by This Providence, Dark Blue by Jack’s Mannequin, Always by Panic! At the Disco, and ending with Cemetery Drive by My Chemical Romance.
It was amusing and endearing, you even sang along to some of the songs that you knew while you hold onto him like a koala, one of your leg draped over his. But then Jungkook goes crazy with the air drums during the last song, twisting and turning, his bare thigh rubbing against your clothed core. A jolt of pleasure strikes you, making you whimper and grasp Jungkook’s shirt. Jungkook doesn’t notice at first, still crooning to his heart’s content, but when he bucks his thigh slightly harder into you, that’s when he heard your soft moan. He instantly stops singing to look down at your lust-filled expression, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.
“Fuck…” he breathes out, tensing the muscle on his thigh as he moves it slightly to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things. He gets his answer when you circle your hips to meet his thigh for more pressure, your leg tightening around him. As he starts to harden at the sight, Jungkook smirks as he lifts you up. You squeal when he places you back down, your legs on either side of his body, your clothed pussy pressed against his hardened length.
Lacing his hands together behind his head, Jungkook commands with a smirk, “Keep going, sweetheart.”
Truth be told, as an ex-emo kid, graveyards were always a place that Jungkook had wanted to have sex in before he dies. Hell, the entire Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge album – one of his all-time favorites - was made for this occasion.
Though his girlfriend might not be as enthusiastic as he is.
“Oh god,” you moan when he bucks up teasingly, one of your hands covering your face. “This is so fucking wrong… We’re… on a dead guy’s grave…”
Watching you through half-lidded dilated and dark eyes, Jungkook states through his slight panting, “The guy’s name was P. King Thom. Of course he wants people to have sex on his grave.”
You thought Jungkook was only kidding until you look ahead to check the name engraved on the plaque on the wall. Sure enough, that was really his name. “Oh my god…” you giggle. “You’re right!”
“Then let’s give him a show… Shouldn’t we, sweetheart?” Jungkook asks suggestively as he pushes his underwear off, his hard length springing out and he lays it flat against his stomach. He hisses in delight when you sit back down, his cock in between your wet, covered lips. “W-we are taking refuge in his humble abode, after all”
“Yesss…” you sigh, pleased with how hard Jungkook was now gripping your hips as you grind up and down his length. While you kept that up, Jungkook large hands travel up your body, lifting up your shirt in the process, revealing your bare chest. Jungkook tsks in mock discontent, but really he was glad to have easier access to your cute, perky nubs. Both hands cupping your boobs, he pinches your both your hardened nipples as well.
“Kook…” Your needy, shaky mewls of his name fill his ears as you swivel your hips faster against him, a reaction to him pulling at your nipples. He feels you soaking through your underwear now, lubricating his length with your sweet juices.
Now that your panty was plenty wet, Jungkook lifts you up again. Licking your lips as your eyes stay on him, you slide them off slowly down your legs. Jungkook groans when he sees the dark patch of sticky arousal on the crotch of the panty, it makes him even crazier that he can only faintly smell your glorious scent. When you hand it over to him, Jungkook quickly presses it against his nose. You giggle, watching your boyfriend inhaling deeply with his eyes closed in bliss like some sort of drug addict.
It was only a few months ago that you found out about your boyfriend’s panty fetish when he shyly asked for the ones you were wearing before you left to go on a week-long girls trip with Jisoo and another old best friend of yours, Kim Jennie. Then throughout the trip, when you were alone, you would have video call sex with Jungkook and in all the sessions he would be gripping onto your panties or smelling it while he masturbated. It was strangely arousing for the both of you.
The longer you had on the underwear and the stronger the scent of you on them, the more Jungkook treasured it.
“You always smell so fucking good, babe,” Jungkook murmurs, still smelling the cotton. Straddling him once more, Jungkook drags a finger from the hand not holding the panties through your folds, “And always so fucking wet for me.”
You hum nodding while Jungkook twists slightly to his side to grab something from the floor. You stop him, both your hand on his chest to push him back down to lay on his back.
Eyes wide, Jungkook explains, “I was gonna get a con—“
You press a finger on his mouth to shut him up. You smirk, shaking your head, “If we die today, I want to at least finally feel you cumming inside me.”
Jungkook lets out a deep, guttural groan, his head tilting back, neck bared for you to lean down and press your mouth on it, sucking bruises. He’s already getting delirious at the thought of entering you bare, but you had to add to that by swirling your expert tongue on his skin. It’s just too much for him to handle, already wanting to fuck you rough and hard until you’re both seeing nothing but stars. “Babe, you’ll be the death of me. Are you sure?”
You sit up again, humming an mhm as you grab onto his cock, pressing his leaking tip against your entrance. You’re both gasping and groaning as you gradually slide down his length, your tight heat taking Jungkook to heaven. You lift yourself up until only his tip was inside you and then quickly drop back down, then you do that over and over again, each time Jungkook’s cock goes deeper inside you.
“Oh, Jeon…” you cry wantonly when his hands grasp your ass and he starts to thrust up, meeting you as you come down.
It was getting harder to keep yourself up, the pleasure making your bones feel like jelly, so you lean down to rest your forearms against his chest, but not without dragging his shirt up first. With your cheek on his chest and Jungkook pretty much doing all the work now with the swiveling of his hip as you ride him, you trace the dark ink of the artwork that littered his chest.
For the last three years, you were by Jungkook’s side while he kept adding more and more tattoo on his body.  You were there with him holding his hand when he got his first one done and all the way through his latest. By now, he has a full right sleeve, half of his left, and his chest piece.
Each one was his own design and drawing - except one.
You kiss the one over his heart, a tattoo of your favorite flower that he asked you to design.
At first, you weren’t sure when he requested it but now as you look at it, it’s a reminder of how much he loves you. He always has you on his heart and he wants you there.
And you could say the same about him.
You look up at Jungkook, fluttering your eyelash as you tell him, “I love you, Jungkook.”
He grins, flipping you over so now you were on your back, your legs wrapping securely around his waist. He kisses you, tongues swirling together, your arms around his neck to pull him closer.  When the two of you part, his pretty eyes stare down at you tenderly, “I love you too, Y/N.”
Then he starts to plunge harder and deeper into you, though his hips are snapping in a languid speed. Every excruciatingly slow drag of his veiny, throbbing member against your walls has you calling his name. The sounds of skin meeting skin, Jungkook’s grunting, and your moaning, all choked up and strangled, completely debauched, was echoing in the small room. Maybe it can even be heard from outside, but the monsters are completely forgotten as yours and Jungkook’s high was quickly approaches, scorching fire pooling down below.
Jungkook comes first, body jerking as he explodes inside of you. Hovering his mouth just above yours, his hot breath fans your face as he moans and pants through his last few strokes, each one filling you up with more of his cum. Once he’s empty, he slowly pulls out of you, shuddering from the sensitivity.
Something about seeing Jungkook’s cum overflowing out of your opening as his softened cock slides out does something to you. Then he presses his thumb on your swollen, sensitive clit and rubs until you were mewling out incoherent words, toes curling, and back arching.
“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it,” Jungkook praises while he helps you ride through your climax, though his voice was barely audible above the ringing in your ears. Time seems to slow as you tense in Jungkook’s arm, waves upon waves of pleasures hitting your entire body.
As you come down from your high, your walls tighten and pulse around nothing causing more of yours and Jungkook’s cum to spill out, trailing down to your ass and onto Jungkook’s coat. It was messy but goodness, it was hot.
You’re both giggling ‘I love you’s into each other mouths while Jungkook wipes up all the cum with your underwear that he was still holding. While he does that, you catch your breath, head lolling to the side - and that when you see the red-lit light from Jungkook’s camera.
Sitting up straight with your eyes wide in shock, you smack Jungkook’s shoulder with the back of your hand to grab his attention. “Has that been recording this whole time?!”
Jungkook follows your line of vision and gasps, jumping up to grab the camera from the ledge. He comes back to sit beside you, staring at the tiny screen, already rewinding back. “Shit… Apparently so…”
“Oh my god… we made a sex tape,” you whisper in disbelief, staring blankly ahead.
Jungkook stops rewinding and plays the recording. All of the sudden the room fills with the sound of moaning again and on the screen was when you were bouncing on Jungkook’s dick earlier. It was a lot for you to take in.
“Do I really sound like that?” You feebly ask, ears burning hot from embarrassment.
“Yes, and it’s the hottest sounds I’ve ever heard,” Jungkook comforts you with a kiss on your temple. You mumble a shy yet happy shut up, and the two of you continue to watch the footage. It wasn’t really that great, it was out of focus and the night vision option was still on so everything was tinted green. During the part where you start to come, there’s a strange noise sounding like a “Whoop Whoo!” but you both think it was just the wind blowing outside.
The recording ends and Jungkook shrugs with a smirk, stating sincerely, “I could jerk off to this.”
Your mouth falls but before you could respond, Jungkook’s phone starts to ring and he quickly finds it in the pocket of his coat and answers.
“Jimin! Hey!… You’re with Nayoung and Hoseok?… Yeah, we’re fine but we’re stuck inside a mausoleum at St. Jude’s Cemetery… Yeah, like really stuck… The door won’t budge… Okay, see you guys soon! Bring weapons!… Don’t call me an idiot, if you die because you didn’t bring any than you’re the idiot, stupid!… Sorry, sorry! I take it back, just come get us!… Bye, we love you guys too!”
When Jungkook hangs up, he smiles radiantly your way. “They’re on their way!”
Tumblr media
The rowdy calls from your friends and the pounding on the mausoleum door resound the room 30 minutes later.  You and Jungkook perk up from where the two of you were sitting on the tomb together, both fully dressed now and his backpack packed once again. It takes them a few minutes but finally, the door opens, revealing Nayoung, Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung.
Nayoung and Hoseok run in, both hugging you tightly and asking if you were alright. Jimin and Taehyung charge at Jungkook, the taller of the two locking Jungkook’s neck under his arms while the shorter ruffles Jungkook’s hair.
Then a huge St. Bernard dog comes barrelling inside as well, almost tackling Jungkook to the ground. It starts to lick Jungkook’s face and Jungkook happily pets it while a tall, lanky man enters the room.
“Ernest and little Dane helped us find you,” Jimin states, introducing the old man and the dog. He introduces himself as the graveyard groundskeeper.
“You two must be the ones who ran away earlier,” Ernest says with a laugh. “We could have found you earlier but the… err… strong perfume you were wearing really messed up Ol’ Dane’s sense of smell.”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Taehyung grumbles as he glares at a guilty, giggling Jungkook.
After thanking the groundskeeper and his lovable dog, the six of you walk back to the entrance of the graveyard, where the parking lot was. As both you and Jungkook were really exhausted, Hoseok and Nayoung suggest that they’ll take Jungkook’s car back while you two drive back with Taehyung and Jimin.
As they walk to Jungkook’s car together, Hoseok intertwines his fingers with Nayoung’s and you audibly gasp, looking at Jimin and Taehyung for an explanation. “When… What…?!”
“When we were looking for you, Hoseok finally told Nayoung he loves her because he thought he was going to die,” Taehyung erupts into giggles while he also stares at the new couple. “It was so adorable!”
“There was a lot of screaming involved,” Jimin winces and shudders, remembering how it went down. “Obviously only from Hoseok.”
Before she enters the driver’s seat, Nayoung looks back at you with a wink and mouths a thank you as all four of you standing by Taehyung’s car gives her a thumbs up. You’re ecstatic that this night went well for your friend as well.
Driving back home, Jimin looks back from the passenger to inform you and Jungkook, “By the way, the skinwalker was at St. Jude’s… you know, the abandoned hospital at the other side of the city. The Walking Dead hint and the ‘Underneath the Undertow’ meaning it was near a body of water should have clued you guys in…. But…”
“What are you trying to say, Jimin?” You pout, crossing your arms indignantly.
Jungkook shakes his head, pulling you closer into him and says, “Don’t mind him, sweetheart. I bet there was nothing th—“
“So many people said they saw it and that it almost killed Yoongi, but then Yoongi did that aerosol can and lighter trick and burnt it’s face the fuck up,” Taehyung cuts Jungkook off. Through the rearview mirror, he sees the way the younger’s mouth drops and he bobs his head as he affirms, “Honestly… True story, check Namjoon’s and Kim Seokjin’s snaps.”
“Everyone knows St. Jude’s hospital is full of evil spirits, why would you even try the cemetery?” Jimin sighs, head shaking in disappointment at Jungkook’s lack of cryptid hunting sense. He pulls up Namjoon’s masterlist of cryptids in your city that’s pinned on top of Namjoon’s twitter feed and mumbles, “I bet there aren’t even any cryptids at the cemetery…Oh, wait, there is!”
“What is it?!” Jungkook lunges forward to see the google document grid over Jimin’s shoulders.
Together they read but Jimin does it out loud, “There have been many reports of the ghost of Paul King Thom haunting the grounds of St. Jude’s Cemetery. It is said that this ghost likes to creep in during lovers’ passionate tryst in the graveyard and would holler a “Whoop Whoo” if he liked what he saw.”
“Who the fuck would have sex in a graveyard?!” Taehyung sticks out his tongue, disgusted at the thought. You pull back Jungkook to sit back down so you can hide your face into his chest, hoping that Taehyung doesn’t look back and notice your discomfort and mortification. Luckily, he was too busy keeping his eyes on the road.
“There has been a total of 35 reports given to us about this ghost,” Jimin reads the last line and grins at Taehyung. “So I guess… 35… times 2… 70… Maybe some are like threesomes and satanic orgies… so like 87 people?”
“Why 87?”
“I dunno, I like that number.”
While Taehyung and Jimin banter back and forth, Jungkook grins widely at you, body buzzing with excitement as he leans close to whisper, “A ghost watched us have sex!”
“Why are you so happy about that?” You whisper back, giggling. Only Jungkook would find a perverted, voyeur ghost something to be thrilled about.
“Because it’s exciting!”
As you blink at him, he continues, “I bet he’s the one that blocked the signal on my phone and got the door stuck! He liked how we had sex!”
“You’re strange, Jungkook,” you yawn, eyes gradually starting to shut, unable to keep them open anymore. “So… strange…”
“You love it,” Jungkook teasingly whispers as he rubs your arm.
“Mhm…” Was the last thing you hum before drifting to sleep.
Jungkook doesn’t know if Nessie, Big Foot, Skinwalkers, or perverted ghosts are real – that will probably remain unsolved.
But what he does know that for you he would curb stomp zombies and ghouls, walk through the flaming grounds of hell and back on his bare feet, and fist fight Satan himself just to keep you safe and in his arms.
Why?
As Jungkook fondly looks down at you, looking like an angel as you slumber peacefully in his arms, he smiles gently to himself thinking of one resounding thought:
Because he loves you.
That’s a question Jungkook knew the answer to the moment he kissed you that night of the very first date, and it’s the only answer that he knows will forever remain the same and solved.
53 notes · View notes
astralmono · 2 months
Note
Hello! I love your work, could I ask you a request about Jungkook strong/intimidating aura but soft towards the reader who is shy, inexperienced and shy?🥺it turns him on but at the same time he feel protective towards her innocence. I would love to read a smut interactions between this two 🥺✨
Tumblr media
Pairings: Jeongguk + Reader Word Count: 4.1k+ words Warnings: shy virgin oc gets it with her buff! soft dom! short haired! tattooed & pierced! boyfriend! koo, oc and jk are cat people in this universe, typical overprotective boyfriend, size kink, he also spits on your pu$y, protected sex, pwp
Note: not beta'd. im in a rush lol sorry.
Requests are always open.
Tumblr media
This was not how Jeongguk planned to spend his day off. What’s a buff, 5’10 guy, all inked and pierced doing in the middle of the baby aisle? Looking like a dilf? It felt as if he was entering every circle of hell of his own accord every time his brother, Seokjin, asks him to run for a diaper supply. 
He adores his nephew, that’s a fact, which is why he spoils him so much whenever he comes by. What he doesn’t like is his brother bulldozing through his already set plans for the day.
The day is bright and the weather is clear, but Jeongguk complaining to his brother over the phone is making it seem like it’s gloomy.
“Hyung, I don’t fucking get this shit,” his brows furrowed as he studies the packaging intently. “How am I supposed to know what to get?”
“The size is on the left…I think?” Seokjin nervously gulps, hoping his memory serves him correctly.
“There’s nothing here,” Jeongguk sighs as he returns the diaper back on the shelf.
It was now Seokjin’s brows turn to knit, “Wait, what were you holding?”
He squints his eyes at the item he just returned, “Uhh it’s Pampers?”
“Ah, we usually buy Huggies for Iseul,” Seokjin shrinks in his seat as soon as he hears his younger brother inhale sharply. “Sorry I forgot…again.”
“You could’ve told me that earlier!” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jeongguk threw his head back in frustration. “Okay, Huggies. What size?” 
“Size 4!” His elder brother’s enthusiasm made him pull his phone away from his ear. “While you’re at it, can you get me Frosted Flakes, too?”
“I don’t get paid enough for this shit. Goodbye,” he quickly ended the call, randomly throwing three packs of diapers in his cart, not even looking at it anymore.
Jeongguk turns his cart with little to no effort while whistling to ease his boredom as he makes his way to the next aisle. If his assumptions are correct, mostly based on his grocery shopping observations, this particular store doesn’t carry frosted flakes. But then again, it doesn’t hurt to try. 
“Frosted flakes…Frosted flakes…” Jeongguk mumbles as he scans every row for the cereal. When there was no sight of the blue box, he frowned. 
Jeongguk: There are no frosted fucking flakes [2:00 PM]
Seokjin Hyung: am sad ;-( [2:00 PM]
Jeongguk: You type like an idiot [2:00 PM]
Just as he was about to push his cart out of the breakfast aisle, a soft voice stopped him from doing so, “Excuse me? Can you help me reach the Lucky Charms?”
Looking over at his shoulder, he lifts a brow, “And why would I do that? Do I look like I work here?”
Your lips parted as you scanned him from head to toe. Somehow, you felt embarrassed that he assumed he was an employee when he’s wearing literally every black clothing there is to exist. A nice fit on his body, though, if you may add. 
“No, but I–uhm–you’re…taller than me,” feeling extra small and intimidated by his cold aura, you didn’t meet his gaze anymore. Instead, your eyes stayed glued to your feet, “Actually, it’s fine. I’ll just call the–”
He didn’t even give you enough time to finish your sentence. 
The next thing you know, his big body was blocking your vision as he reached for the cereal on the top shelf with ease. Jeongguk didn’t even need to tip his toes like you normally would and that was weirdly amusing for you.
“Here,” he hands you your box of cereal.
“Oh,” it took you a while to process what just happened so you blinked. Multiple times.
When your eyes slowly grew wide and your smile reached up to your eyes, Jeongguk could’ve sworn that love at first sight wasn’t an urban legend anymore. Like, who even bows at a full ninety degrees just for a mere cereal box? Definitely not him.
“Thank you so so much!” You waved the box to a dumbfounded Jeongguk who only nodded his head as you pushed your cart away. 
He just watched you walk away happily, maybe even trying to remember whatever tune you were humming as you walked away. 
Without breaking his gaze from where you once were, Jeongguk pulls his phone out and presses on his brother’s number like it was muscle memory, “Hyung, do you need anything this week?” 
“It’s all good, today was just a mishap,” Seokjin reassures. 
“Okay, how about next week? I can–uhh–run to the groceries or some shit,” he nervously asks, hoping his brother would never catch anything suspicious.
“I think we’re all good for now,” his brother says with conviction, but only because he doesn’t want to bother his younger brother for errands next time.
“You sure?” Jeongguk pushes.
“Yes, Jeongguk. I’m very sure,” Seokjin sighed. “...Are you flirting with the cashier again?”
“Fuck off, just wanted to help you while I buy cat food for Sage,” the tip of Jeongguk’s ears has now turned to red as he blatantly lied.
His elder brother snorted on the other line, knowing how much of a terrible liar his brother is, “Yeah right, you and your cat.”
“You’re full of shit,” Jeongguk once again ended the call before Seokjin could retort anything again. 
Maybe grocery shopping might be one of his new hobbies. 
Tumblr media
“Cooper?” You sniffed as you walked outside your building, softly calling out for your lost cat. 
It’s been 3 hours and you’re literally freezing outside, not giving up until you find your beloved pet. This isn’t the first time Cooper, your escape artist of a house pet, went out of your unit. The first time he got out, you found him at a nearby construction site because apparently, he thinks it’s a giant litter box for him to enjoy. The second was when he, for some weird reason, found himself stuck on the roof of your complex. How he got there, you wouldn’t ever know.
“Hey, Y/N! Oh– you’re crying,” your ever so cheerful neighbor, Jimin, stops in his tracks when he sees the tears pooling in your eyes. “Did Cooper get out again?”
You slowly nodded, lips quivering from trying to stop yourself from breaking down. Every time your cat goes for his so-called walk, you end up in tears. And every time he does, it’s always Jimin who always finds him and brings him back to your unit. 
“Say, if I do find him again – which I’m positive I will – I’ll be right by your door, alright?” He assures you with a smile. For some reason, everyone calls him the pet whisperer for always babysitting the neighbors’ pets, so all you can do is trust his words on that.
“T-thank you,” you mumbled under your breath with sadness. 
Jimin felt so bad looking at your state. Not when he’s so used to seeing you all full of spirit, “Why don’t you go up and make yourself something warm while waiting for him, hmm?”
And that you did. Only because the only choice you had was to patiently wait for your cat’s return.
Dragging your feet as you climbed the stairs, you were sure the rest of your neighbors could hear the lazy thud of your feet against the floor. 
With a head hung low and a slump on your shoulders, you tiredly sighed, wanting to reach your door so you could finally cry your worries out. A pair of feet waiting outside your unit is what made you raise your head. 
Leaning by your door is none other than your cereal hero from the other day, Jeongguk, who looks even scarier now than you last saw him. 
“God, fucking finally, you’re here,” the crease in his forehead quickly goes away when you can no longer hold back your tears. You covered your face from embarrassment and sobbed silently against your palms.
‘Should’ve bit my tongue there,' he thought. 
“I’m sorry,” he says with full remorse. “I can come back later when you’re feeling better.”
You slowly removed your hands from your face, wiping your tears with the back of your hands, “It’s…okay. I’m just having a bad day right now.” Hiccuping in between words and sobs, you still tried to form coherent sentences, “I–I couldn’t find my cat.”
“Cooper with the 9A tag?” Your brows rose at the mention of your pet AND your unit number. The look on your face says it all, “Yeah, I figured.”
“You–you found him!” Not gonna lie, there was a sense of relief that finally washed over you. At least Jimin doesn’t have to scour the chilly weather today.
Jeongguk scratched the back of his ear, clearing his throat nervously, “He–uhm–I–Why don’t you go inside for a while?”
Seeing his behavior as suspicious, you narrowed your eyes at him, “No. I wanna see Cooper now.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, but you can’t,” he says sternly.
‘Your devil’s spawn Cooper is fucking my Sage in the fire exit.’
“Why not? He’s my cat,” you retort.
Jeongguk’s brows knit together once again, slowly losing his temper over a mere house pet, “Are you rude or what? You just can’t see him right now. It’s not that hard to understand.”
You were so appalled with how he wasn’t making any sense right now. All you wanted was to have your cat home and snuggle with him after crying about him the whole day, “How is taking my own cat home rude? Do you have any common sense?”
“Do you have any common sense?” He mimicked the words with a mocking tone and a sarcastic chuckle. “I actually do. But do you have one? Because I’m sure as hell you wouldn’t like it if someone walks in on you mid fuck!”
Just as you were about to retort, he cuts you off, “Tell me your cat is spayed or I’ll go ape shit right now.” When you finally understood what he has been trying to tell you, your eyes widened. And when he finally got the hint your expression was giving, he rolled his eyes, “You’ve gotta be shitting me.” 
At this, you immediately shut up. There is nothing you want more in this world right now but to sink into the floor. Horrified would be such an understatement to describe the look on your face.
‘Oh, fuck. Did I offend her?’ Jeongguk mentally slaps his head.
He sighs, “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” 
You slowly nodded your head, “Uhm, it’s okay…I guess.”
And then awkward silence filled the space between the two of you.
You were shuffling side to side while looking down at your feet. On the other hand, Jeongguk looked around, arms crossed and still leaning against the wall, still thinking of ways he can strike another proper conversation with you without sounding forced.
Not bearing the unnecessary tension anymore, he chose to break the silence, “So, we need to talk about our setup.”
“I’m sorry but what setup?” You didn’t know what you were getting into and you’re more than confused at this point. 
“For child support.” Jeongguk massaged the bridge of his nose with eyes closed, obviously regretting that it had to be him to bear you this news, “Clearly your cat is a fuckboy.”
You blinked, “...Oh, You mean kittens!”
“Whatever floats your boat, but I demand child support,” he shrugged.
“Uhm, okay.” Squinting your eyes in confusion with your head slightly tilted to the side, you asked, “And we need to settle that once and for all, right?” 
He nodded, “Right.”
Not sure where to start with your part of the deal, you suggested your idea meekly, “I–uhh–can send cat food every month for the kittens?”
Jeongguk looked up, thought about the idea at first, then nodded with approval, “Fair enough. Sounds good to me.”
You sighed with relief when he took it into consideration. 
Feeling as though the help you’re extending wasn’t enough ‘child support’ yet, you timidly peeked at him through your lashes and honestly admitted what you’ve been thinking about, “Sorry, that’s all I could think of right now. I don’t know how else I could compensate for my cat’s–err–behavior.”
He didn’t say anything. Yet. He just looked at you which made you jolt in the discomfort of being under someone’s watch.
“We could go out and eat or some shit?” Jeongguk’s ears slowly turned red. 
‘Jeongguk, you airhead. You can’t ask her out like this!’ When your lips, yet again, parted, he wanted to take back what he said until you beat him to it.
“There’s a nice cafe down the street,” when you gave him a soft smile, that’s when he finally returned one, too.
Jeongguk in disbelief was such a rare sight to see, ‘Fucking sorcery.’
“I’m Y/N, by the way. Cooper from 9A’s mom,” you extend your hand politely while pointing at your unit number that’s on your door.
“Jeongguk from 9B, Sage’s peasant,” As he takes your hand, he notes how his are bigger compared to yours.
Tumblr media
A lot can happen in a year and the next thing you know, the so-called “child support'' turned to cat co-parenting, then turned to moving into the same unit. 
Who would’ve thought that the intimidating, seemingly offish Jeongguk is actually a sweetheart? Definitely not you.
If you asked Jeongguk to list down ten things he likes about you, he’ll give you fifty. If you asked him anything under the sun, he surely knows all the answers to it because he’s that smart. If you make your eyes round enough like that of a doe, he would literally do anything you ask of him – which says a lot because Jeon Jeongguk hates a lot of things but never you.
One of the many things he liked doing is watching you reach over cupboards with a sly smirk grazing on his face. A cocky smirk that he could proudly wear because stools aren't shit when you’re naturally born tall. He watches you struggle, and when he’s had enough worry to rile him to step in, wraps an arm protectively around your waist and reaches over with ease. Oh, how he adored stepping in whenever you struggled. It makes him feel needed.
On the contrary, his self-control and patience are put to the test whenever he stops himself from shoving his cock balls deep inside your cunt whenever you would grind on him just to get off. At least you graduated him from thigh riding, right? The sexy lingerie you’d occasionally wear isn't of much help either. 
God, his temper is awful whenever he’s edged but he always tries.
The farthest Jeongguk has gone with you is to eat you out and finger you with, much to his surprise, three digits. The farthest you’ve done with him is a basic handjob and a hesitant blowjob because you didn’t know if you were doing it correctly or not.
You appreciate how he would never force you to do something you’re not yet ready to do. Knowing how losing your virginity (even at a big age) is overwhelming, he’d rather take all his time warming you up than making you feel bad just to satisfy himself. 
One of the few stimulating positions you enjoyed doing with your boyfriend is assaulting your wet pussy while laying on his buff chest, preferably in front of a mirror because Jeongguk loves watching your facial expressions as you reach your high – just like now with your discarded lingerie sprawled across the floor.
“Wanna see you insert another finger in there, princess,” he whispers against your ear in a husky voice, not breaking his eye contact off of you through the mirror in front of your shared bed.
You squirm against his sweaty skin when the added digit hits a new sense of pleasure, “A-ah! Can you please do it for me?” Jeongguk could’ve sworn his cock twitched when you begged with puppy eyes but he shakes his head, making you whimper like a brat. “Your…your fingers feel better…than mine,” you utter breathlessly with a pout.
He chuckles, still not budging to take over or say anything. 
Knowing how much your boyfriend loves to hear your pleas just so you can cum, your other hand reaches over to his cock, stroking it at the perfect tempo just the way you know he likes it. Under your touch, he hissed at the sudden sensation.
“Koo?” You say almost in a whisper, still stroking his shaft, “I…I want you inside me.”
“Baby,” he warns under his breath.
“I want…I want it to be with you,” you admit shyly. “I-I can take all of you, y-you know?”
Feeling as though he’ll lose this time, he sighs and reaches for the drawers to grab a condom, “If it hurts tell me to stop, alright?” You don’t say anything back but he could feel your heart race, “Need your words, princess. Or else we’re cutting the fun short.”
Out of panic, you think you jumbled the words out of your mouth, “Ah–yes! I will, K-koobear.”
“Koobear,” he scoffed, then poked his tongue in his cheek, eyeing you intently at the use of the nickname while ripping the foil open. “It’s either you call me by my government name or baby, but preferably when I fuck you,” he explains further while rolling the condom down to his shaft.
“Why? I like calling you Koo and you’re as big as a–Oh!” Your words are immediately cut short when the tip of his cock slowly enters your core. 
“Do you want to stop?” He asks with worry.
Shaking your head, you threw your head back and rested against his chest, “N-no, just a switch in our positions, I think.”
“You think?” He scoffs. 
In one swift movement, well more like a blink of an eye, it was as if you were manhandled by him when he flips the position in a snap – it was now him hovering over your body that’s small compared to his. He towers over you, pinning both of your hands with one hand, and he smirks at this. If anything, he’s enjoying the very obvious size difference between you and him. You felt small, heck curling up would make you even tinier, but the feeling of enjoying it is bubbling in your stomach.
Jeongguk’s brows lifted as he parted your legs, seeing how wet you’d already been. It’s so fascinating to him how such a tiny cunt could be so slick, “Jesus Christ, you’re wet as hell.”
“Don’t say that,” you shyly mumbled while watching your boyfriend through your lashes.
“What? Getting shy already?” He teases as he leans down to your dripping cunt.
Jeongguk spreads your legs apart, tracing his nose along your slit that’s enough to send shivers down your spine. He sure knows what he’s doing, alright. He then spits in your pussy and watches his spit dripping along your slit, humming in approval when your hole sucked in his spit. 
“Mmm, now that’s a needy cunt,” an amused smirk graces his lips when he notices your goosebumps. “I promise you won’t regret this.”
Chuckling, you replied, “I don’t think there was ever a time that I regretted anything with you.”
Your boyfriend leans in closer as he aligns his hardened member in your entrance, “That’s so good to hear from you, princess.” Slowly, he enters inside you making you wince slightly, “God, you’re tight as fuck.”
You let out a soundless gasp, lips parted, and eyes pooling with tears from the mixed feeling of slight pain and pleasure. Jeongguk notices this and briefly stops when his whole length is finally inside you, “You good?”
“Y-yes, it just feels…so different,” you assured. 
“I’ll move now, alright?” His thumb runs across your cheeks soothingly as he slowly fucks you until you adjust to his size. Underneath him, you look so fragile, so helpless, yet so submissive to him. 
Your hands trailed down to where he was bulging under your skin, rubbing his embossed form while your eyes fluttered, “Y-you’re so big, Koo. So deep inside me.”
“I’ll let you adjust to my length, babe,” there was a tinge of amusement inside of him as he studies every reaction your body makes.
“It’s okay, I can take it,” you say with conviction this time, and that made him somewhat proud – you take all of his fat and big cock with no fuss.
“This pussy is made for me, huh?” Jeongguk picks up the pace this time only because he enjoys watching your tits bounce as he rocks your body. “Makes me wanna do crazy shit like have your name tattooed on my rib,” you gasped, scratching lines against his back.
“Please look at me,” he gently moves away the stray hairs that stuck on your sweaty face. “Wanna see how pretty my baby is.”
You slowly open your eyes with a lust-filled gaze and this is where he lost his shit. He rams inside of you faster and harder this time, making you arch your back at the newfound pleasure he was hitting. 
“What if I break this condom off and fill you with my cum?” Your pussy tightens at the idea of his cum overflowing out of your cunts because it couldn’t take how much he had spurted inside of you. “Fuck, you tightened. You like that don’t you?”
Obviously not thinking straight because your boyfriend was fucking your wits out, you nodded, “I– yes, want you to fuck me harder ‘til it breaks.” And so he did fuck you hard.
It was like a magic word that made him cum so fast and you the same.
He could feel your body trembling, your breathing still fast. He waited for a moment or two for himself to soften up so he could pull out gently. Your still slightly clenching hole almost pushing his dick out of yourself. Meanwhile, he discards the condom with no mess.
You whined at the empty feeling, and he hushed you gently, moving around so he was sitting up against his headboard, your body on his lap, head on his shoulder. His hand moved back and forth over your spine, the other keeping your body steadily against him. 
“You did so, so good baby.” He gently whispered between your breaths, still coming out a little faster than they should. “I was actually kind of worried you wouldn’t be able to take it. You impress me too much, you know that?” He said, making you giggle. 
You weren’t quite back yet, still bathing in your own afterglow, and he simply waited for you to calm down, slowly becoming aware of your surroundings again. Legs still shaking from losing your virginity, you noticed a pool of wetness in your sheets.
“The sheets are soiled,” you frowned.
Jeongguk clicked his tongue teasingly, “That’s not very nice of you, princess.”
“I’m sorry,” you peeked at him with a tired pout.
“It’s fine. It’s time to change it anyway,” he runs his finger against your back, making soothing circles that made you fall asleep instantly.
Tumblr media
Wearing short dresses while out in the park is one of the small joys you enjoy doing with your boyfriend. Not to mention that sitting on his lap is a plus…except he gets overprotective whenever your skirt riles up like now – one hand over your lap, serving as weights to the fluttering fabric.
Guess guard dog privilege is real when Jeongguk is your boyfriend.
Peeking at him, your brows rose at his creased forehead, "Why do you look like you're ready to fight?"
"Because I am," he says without blinking, though his eyes are following those who would spare you a glance.
You blinked in confusion, "...What?"
"Yes," he nodded with assertiveness. 
Ah, of course. Being overprotective. Such a Jeongguk thing to do.
There are days when you don’t understand what your boyfriend is doing, but you can’t deny the fact that he’s fun to be around. Like always, you shrug it all off, sit on his lap, and wrap your arms around his neck as you nuzzle against his skin – a sure way to make him smile from ear to ear.
“Baby, can you take one of those polaroid pictures in that lingerie?” He asks with lips against your hair. Jeongguk has a habit of kissing the side of your head just because he can.
At this, your lips part at the sudden request; he’s never asked this before, “Why?”
“Wanna keep it in my wallet,” he only shrugged when you blinked at his answer. “I’m romantic as fuck.”
6K notes · View notes
jungk0oksthighs · 3 months
Text
happy birthday loser; jjk x reader; 18+
Tumblr media
summary: after three years of simping over your roommate, you give him one hell of a birthday celebration. idiots to lovers pwp oneshot. literally zero plot
warnings: explicit smut, mutual thirsting, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, squirting, loud filthy (unprotected) sex. wrap before u tap
a/n: happy birthday jungkook! this is my first oneshot in 4+ years so be gentle w me please, usually i prefer to write series but i wanted to challenge myself and ofc write something special for everybody's favourite maknae's birthday. enjoy!
word count: 8k
On Thursdays you cook burgers for dinner.
But today isn’t just a regular Thursday.
It’s your roommates birthday, his twenty-fifth to be exact, so when you ventured to the grocery store last night you were sure to pick up the ingredients for his favourite meal in preparation for tonight. Samgyeopsal.
Pork belly is his favourite meat, you’ve been subjected to many a conversation about how tasty he finds it, how it’s the right balance of protein and fat, how it goes with anything, how he likes to wrap the succulent meat in lettuce leaves before submerging it into sauce and shoving it into his mouth.
It’s his favourite food without a shadow of a doubt. And so you’ve taken it upon yourself to cook it for him on his birthday. He is your favourite person after all, without a shadow of a doubt.
Jungkook moved in with you three years ago, at a very dark time in your life when you were wallowing in your post-breakup blues. You initially met the triple threat of tall, dark and handsome Jungkook at an open mic night when he struck up a conversation with you at the local bar.
As if being gorgeous isn’t enough, he’s a very talented singer and guitarist too, he and his grungy rock band like to play at bars and clubs on weekends. When he’s not busy at his nine to five as a software engineer, where he’s due to be leaving any minute now.
The more you got to know him you quickly realised he’s somewhat of a loser. Not a loser in the sense of having no friends and nothing significantly interesting about him – not in the slightest. Jungkook is a loser in the sense that he’s extremely introverted, painfully so, and lacks social skills.
He prefers to stay home after a gig, he doesn’t care for parties or girls or even much alcohol. He loves the quiet life, spending most evenings glued to his laptop to play videogames or sat beside you on the sofa binging something on Netflix. When he's not running his expert fingers over the nooks and crannies of his guitar.
Truthfully you’ve been kind of infatuated with him for a while now, he’s just so endearing and rib-shatteringly hilarious without even trying. It’s hard not to fall for him. His smile is earth-shatteringly perfect, his touch more so. You are but a woman after all, and a woman has needs and desires just like everybody else.
Jungkook being what you both need and desire daily.
At the time you met him a relationship was the last thing on your mind. Him moving into your spare bedroom was just a way to make up the rent and bill money your ex-boyfriend used to pay. But now you’re three years single save for the very occasional one night stand and Jungkook has never looked more appealing.
Maybe it’s the way he helps you reach snacks on the highest shelf when your tiptoes fail you. Perhaps it has a little something to do with the sweet melodies that flow from his pierced lips, flooding the apartment whenever he showers. It could be the fact he likes to ‘air-dry’ and parades around the place wearing nothing but a damp towel after said showers. Or it might have something to do with the way the supple skin beneath his big brown doe-eyes crinkles when he smiles.
But maybe, maybe, it’s because he’s everything you never realised you were looking for – until it quite literally showed up on your doorstep and moved in.
Okay so maybe you’re down bad for your roommate, but who in their right mind wouldn’t be? If you had to pick one word to describe Jungkook it would be… Perfect, handsome, funny, sweet, sentimental, ripped, gorgeous, talented. Any of those work just fine, it would be an insult to simply pick just one.
One of the many perks about living with Jungkook is that you’re both organised messy people, sure there’s some clutter here and there throughout the apartment but you both know damn sure what junk is where. Your personalities match, you don’t make the rules, they just do. All your friends say it, as do his friends. You'd be a show-stopping couple for sure.
It’s just that well… The man is somewhat emotionally constipated, can’t smell what’s right under his nose no matter how many hints you’ve given. Like a nose-blind lion on the prowl, there's a willing zebra right here, but he hasn't seemed to notice.
Wearing low-cut shirts at dinner, skirts that are a little too short, always making sure your makeup is clean and dewy looking even when wearing sweats. The innocent flirting that’s nowhere near innocent on your end. You shower him with compliments on the daily, being sure you don't appear too indifferent or nonchalant about it. You mean every compliment you've ever given him.
You like him, but you didn’t realise how frustrating that would prove to be giving his obliviousness.
But that all ends tonight.
You’re wearing a simple black slip dress, the smooth fabric ending just below the curve of your ass and the straps are so dainty that he’s bound to notice your exposed cleavage. Maybe even the lace trim of your sheer bra too, complete with a matching thong of course.
It’s not uncommon for you to get dressed up randomly, even before Jungkook moved in, you’ve always liked making an effort and looking pretty. It makes you feel good, confident even. You even went as far as to shave today, ensuring you're extra smooth, yknow just in case.
It's been a whole eleven months since you invited a guy back here, and the outcome was less than satisfying. Much like all your sexual endeavours, he got his and all you got was the ick. You haven’t seen the guy since.
It’s been a hot minute since Jungkook invited a girl back here too, maybe even over a year now. The way your roommate likes to saunter around half-dressed with long, messy brunette hair and a wicked smile has always affected you, made your mouth dry and your panties damp. Truthfully you don’t understand how a guy like that is single, well maybe it's because he doesn’t appear to have a radar for women, but you’re grateful nonetheless.
Black helium balloons fill your lounge, the big ‘25’ being the most obvious. You’ve spent the day mentally preparing for this, you want to show him how much you appreciate everything he does for you and celebrate his birthday properly. From him always prepping extra breakfast in the mornings just to make sure you’ve eaten, to his inked fingertips giving you back massages when you’ve hit the gym a little too hard. He’s usually the one to cook dinner most nights, so tonight you want to return the favour with a smile.
You’re just about to start prepping dinner when the unmistakable sound of his key in the door sends a rush of excitement through you. He’s home.
“Hey loser.” Jungkook’s voice is casual when he slips into the apartment, you’re too busy reapplying lip gloss to get a good look at him just yet.
“Good evening.” You chuckle, clamping the handheld mirror shut and sliding it into a kitchen draw.
You don’t know when it started, nor who started it. But the two of you like to use the term loser as a term of… almost endearment. It’s an inside joke between you both, friends and family members often gasp at the nickname you have for each other but for you? The word loser started to make your heart flutter and squeeze a long time ago. Finally you peer to the doorway and acknowledge him with a kind smile, one he’s reciprocating already.
“Happy birthday loser.”
As always he looks good enough to eat. His chiselled yet soft features, tanned skin, the little beauty mark nestled just beneath those very inviting lips of his. The muscles that threaten to tear through the fabric of his clothes. The tattoos that peak out from his sleeve cuffs. The piercings, his long dark hair that parts in the middle and frames those very handsome, genetic lottery winning features of his. You fight a teenage-like sigh, just looking at him is enough to make your heart race.
“What’s all this..?” His eyes scan the room as he shimmies out of his blazer, leaving him in a black shirt tucked into slacks of the same colour. His favourite colour is black, almost everything he owns is black, hence the fitting colour of the birthday decorations. “Are you making pork?” His angled chin tips in your direction, lazy footsteps bringing him closer.
“Mhm.” You nod, suppressing a grin, “You like pork belly, right? I thought it was your favourite.”
He’s nodding along to the sound of your voice, still smiling, “No I do, it is. It’s just we usually have burgers on a Thursday.”
“Ahh, but today isn’t just Thursday,” You remind him with a mischievous wink, “It’s your birthday, Thursday the 1st of September.”
“Congratulations you know how to read my drivers license.” Jungkook snorts when he props himself onto the kitchen countertop, next to your little workstation, “You look nice.”
“Thank you.”
“You didn’t have to do all this yknow.”
“I wanted to.” You hum, turning on the stove.
“But what if I already have plans to celebrate my birthday?” His pierced brow quirks, the silver barbel glimmering beneath the harsh kitchen lighting.
You tut, fighting the urge to roll your eyes when you glare at him and see his nose is already scrunched playfully, “Do you have plans?”
“Looks like I do now!” He claps, taking a beat before cocking his head to one side, his features softening upon watching you cook, “Thank you Y/N.”
Looking him dead in the eye you offer a genuine smile, “Anytime.”
“Would you be offended if I showered before we ate? The AC at work broke and this shirt feels sticky.” He sighs, cracking his neck.
“Why would I be offended?” A light puff of air rips from your nostrils when he fails to respond, his features blanketed with uncertainty and confusion. He really is emotionally constipated.
“No, I wouldn’t be offended loser. Go shower.” You’re giggling, shaking your head in disbelief, “It’ll be ready by the time you’re finished.”
“You’re the best!” He hops off the counter, making sure to spank your ass before skipping into the bathroom. “Happy birthday to me indeed.” He chuckles, winking in your direction before he closes the door behind him.
It’s always like this, the playful flirts and touches, but you crave something more. You want him to shove his tongue so far down your throat he could eat you out at the same time. You want to feel his tattooed hands to explore every square inch of your body while he fucks you into oblivion. The thought alone is enough to frustrate you.
Maybe you should just hop on top of him one night in front of the TV. Sometimes you do sit on his thighs, his ridiculously strong thighs, if there’s a lack of seating. You sigh dramatically, mentally debating whether the large sofa would fit through the window. If there’s nowhere to sit you’d have to sit on him. Problem solved. All you have to do is throw the fucking sofa out the window and pray he takes the hint. Easy enough.
The sizzling meat in the pan is interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening, revealing a cloud of steam and a shirtless Jungkook, tattoos and muscles displayed in all their glory. He’s wearing nothing but Calvin Klein boxer shorts, grey ones, that leave fuck all to the imagination.
“Forgot my towel.” He chuckles awkwardly, briefly heading into his bedroom to retrieve said towel. That damn white towel. What would he do if there were no towel? Walk around bare-ass with his dick on show? Maybe you could throw the towel out the window instead, it would be much easier than the sofa.
“You okay?” Jungkook’s presence startles you, he’s right next to you with furrowed brows and his stupidly muscular arms crossed over his chest, towel draped on his shoulder. “You zoned out again, thinking about anything good?” He’s laughing, wetting his lips between smiles.
Your gaze flickers to the bumps of his toned abdomen before settling on his face, he’s smiling brightly at you, seemingly unaware of the carnal desire you have to pin him to the kitchen floor and mount him right now.
“I’m fine, go get your shower.” You act indifferent, prompting a quiet, unconvinced ‘oookay’ from your roommate before he’s gone again.
You’re genuinely entertaining the idea of throwing out, no wait burning that sofa now, Jungkook’s thighs have always been way comfier anyway.
Interestingly enough the timing of his shower is perfect, you’re plating up dinner on the coffee table when he’s finished. Making sure to grab a bottle of soju from the cupboard, he’s not much of a drinker but you figure it is his birthday after all. Dragging two plump cushions from the sofa you’ve suddenly grown a strong hatred toward, you sit on one, leaving the other free for the birthday boy himself.
“Oh my god this smells great,” Jungkook comically inhales until his chest, his bare chest, is full of air. “Have you watched those 365 days movies? Someone at work recommended them to me earlier.” He says nonchalantly while sitting next to you, only wearing that damn white towel over his hips. The scent of his coconut bodywash clings to his beefy frame and floods your senses.
“The sex movies?” You laugh, handing him chopsticks all while trying to keep your gaze on his face. Somewhat a difficult challenge considering he's half naked. Again. “I’ve heard they’re really graphic with basically no plot, just steamy sex scenes, bad accents and a hot guy with tattoos.”
“Ah, you do like a man with tattoos.” He sniffs, fingertips lingering on yours while he grips the utensils, “Well since it’s my birthday I say we watch them. Seokjin at work said they're pretty good.”
“Okay,” You shrug, “But since when do you know about what kind of man I like?”
At this Jungkook grins, finding the remote and switching on Netflix, “You’ve only ever brought two guys back here since I moved in, both had tattoos. It’s a reasonable assumption to make.”
“Valid.” You’re nodding, beginning to tuck into the food, “I guess I do like men with tattoos, yeah.”
“Yeah?” He asks, gently elbowing your side. When you glance at him he’s smiling, wiggling his thick eyebrows animatedly while gesturing to his dark sleeve tattoo. “I’m a man with tattoos.”
“That you are.” You wink, praying to every higher power that one of these days he's going to acknowledge you're a woman. A woman with a vagina. A vagina that needs stuffing immediately.
“Shit Y/N this is amazing,” Jungkook’s frowning while he chews, a crystal clear sign that he’s enjoying the food you’ve made, “You should cook this more often, so much better than burgers. Fuck,” He moans, dark lashes dusting his face when he squeezes his eyes shut, “So good. So fucking good. Best birthday meal ever.”
This is how most of your nights together are spent, sat witching TV on the floor while eating dinner and enjoying each other’s company. You’re coming to the end of your meal when the first sex scene in the movie starts playing, well, okay not really. The characters aren’t having sex but she’s tied up to the bed watching someone else suck off the sexy guy with tattoos. Your brows are hiked up your forehead, eyes wide, this is not where you thought the plot was going.
“Would you ever do anything like that?” Your roommate asks with his last mouthful of food, watching the TV while running a hand through his damp long hair, “Maybe not the kidnapping part but would you ever wanna watch someone have sex?”
“Nah,” You shake your head, “Not for me. What about you?”
“For sure.” He affirms with a nod, still staring at the screen, “But I’d rather be watched than be the one watching. Especially if I was into the girl, I’m way too jealous for shit like that.”
Ignoring the way his response sends a shiver down your spine you swallow your food, “Aren’t you a little socially awkward to put yourself in that kind of situation? No offence.”
“None taken, I am an awkward guy,” He snorts, “But I don’t know, the idea of someone seeing me absolutely destroy someone kinda gets me going… I like the idea of being watched. Don’t you have anything like that?”
You gulp, “Like what?”
“Any kinks or fantasies.”
“I guess so… Doesn’t everybody?”
At this Jungkook takes it upon himself to pause the movie, giving you his full, undivided attention, “Tell me some.”
“Jungkook…” Your sigh shifts into an awkward giggle, truthfully he is your fantasy. And that towel doesn’t leave much to your imagination, if anything at all. But it doesn’t take you long to crumble, “Okay fine, what do you wanna know?”
“Where would you most like to have sex?” He’s smirking, hooded eyes boring into the depths of your soul, “Anywhere in the world, go.”
“Hmm… I don’t know actually, I’ve never thought about it. What about you?”
“My bed.”
You deadpan, a single brow quirked, “Your bed?”
“It’s comfy, it smells nice, and I can go to sleep after without worrying about getting home since I’m already here. Of course my bed is the number one choice.” He’s looking at you as though you’re stupid, as though his answer is obvious when he scoffs.
“Okay… that’s fair enough.”
Jungkook’s watching you closely, and you swear you see his vision drop to your chest for a millisecond before settling back on your eyes, “What would your ideal guy do to you in bed?”
Sucking in a breath of air you’re already nodding, “Easy. The ideal guy isn’t selfish and knows how to make me come, maybe even squirt. No guys ever made me do either. Your turn.”
“None of the guys you’ve slept with have made you come? What the fuck! Um-, okay…” He licks his teeth before making noises akin to car turning lights, emphasising his thoughts, “The ideal woman is bossy, not dominant but knows what she wants and tells me how to do it. I like vocal women, women who aren’t scared of their own voice. Plus the ideal can actually ride me, the amount of women that give up after four bounces is kinda disappointing.”
Suddenly your mouth feels very dry, prompting you to swallow nothing. Thankfully you’ve never heard Jungkook having sex, there’s been a couple of times you’ve heard heavy breathing and little whimpers from his bedroom but it’s always when he’s alone in there. Guys masturbate, it would be unreasonable to expect him not to do it when you’re home. Plus you’ve definitely gotten yourself off while he’s slept in the next room, you have zero room to talk.
“Really? Four bounces?” Your voice betrays you slightly, wavering with curiosity.
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong I don’t mind doing all the work, it’s just annoying when they talk a big game and put in minimal effort. Just be upfront about wanting me to be in charge, you know? I like being in charge it’s no big deal.”
You’re shaking your head, frowning with an uncertain smile, “Then what are you complaining about?”
At this the birthday boy sighs exasperatedly, as though you’re missing the point, “It’s just annoying isn’t it? When you think somethings gonna go a certain way and then it doesn’t…”
“Tell me about it.” You snort, pouring two shots of peach soju.
“Okay,” Jungkook takes the shot of soju, snapping his fingers excitedly, seemingly unphased by the bitter taste of alcohol, “Who do you wanna sleep with more than anyone in the world? Who’s your number one?”
Slinging back the soju, you bite the bullet with an devilish smirk.
“Hmmm… You.”
Stone cold regret washes over you when he looks through you, the same way he looks at people he’s not comfortable with yet. The exact same expression he gives strangers when he doesn’t understand why he’s been roped into their conversations. His pierced lips purse, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing from a thick swallow. Eyes animatedly round, shocked and astonished.
“Uhh…” He wets his lips before his eyes narrow, brows pinching, “I’m being serious Y/N…”
You nod, “Me too but never mind.” You sigh dramatically, pouring more shots.
“Stop fucking around with me!” He playfully pushes your shoulder, earning embarrassed laughter to bubble in the depths of your throat, “You can’t just say that to me out of nowhere!”
“Out of nowhere?” You repeat, frustrated, “Jungkook I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tried hitting on you and it just seems to go straight over your head.” You whine, lips forming a cute pout that he can’t stop staring at, “Anyway… Like I said, never mind. Forget I said anything. Who’s your number one?”
But Jungkook is too stunned to speak. He’s looking down at you as though you’ve just told him you want to marry him and have his babies. Surprised doesn’t cut it, nor does confused. It’s a deadly cocktail of the two mixed with a little nervousness tugging his usually sharp features up and wide.
“I-, what?” He blinks away his daydream, “Are you being serious? You actually wanna fuck me? I can’t tell. You know I’m bad with stuff like this. Spell it out for me loser.”
At this you shake your head, feeling deflated, “It doesn’t matter, honestly just forget I said anything, you don’t find me attractive so it’s not like it’s ever gonna—”
“Now you’re putting words in my mouth.”
An agitated exhale leaves you, your roommate still staring at you expectantly with a single brow quirked, “You don’t have to say it out loud Kook, it’s obvious.”
“Wow, you really don’t know me at all, do you?” His white teeth are bared in a dazzling panty-dropping grin, “Why do you think I’m sitting here in a towel Y/N? Just out of curiosity.”
“Cause you like to ‘air-dry’.” You mimic air quotes with a mocking tone, slugging back another shot of soju. He does the same.
Jungkook’s voice drops into something akin to seductive, biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a huge smile, “Actually, I thought that maybe if I walk round the place half naked all the time you’d take the hint eventually. You think when I moved in friendship was the only thing on my mind?” He’s laughing now, shaking his head in disbelief, baffled, tongue darting over his lips to wet them. “You think when I came up to you at the bar all I wanted was to be your friend?”
“W-what are you saying? That you are attracted to me?” Your heart races away in your chest, a lick of heat wetting your spine when your roommate tilts his head to one side, smirking.
“Ask me who my number one is.”
“Okay… I’ll humour you. Who’s your number one?” You’re blushing, unable to wipe the smile from your features when he sucks in a harsh breath of air, watching you closely.
His inked hand finds the nape of your neck, tugging your face closer, close enough that your noses bang together and you both giggle. “You are, loser.”
The next thing you know he’s kissing you, and you’re kissing him back.
Where most make out sessions begin soft and slow, gentle and uncertain while both parties attempt to figure out what the other likes – that’s far from what’s happening here. It’s heated, it’s messy and fuelled by years of pent up frustration and longing. His grip moves to your jaw where he pries it open, slipping his tongue into your mouth at that exact moment.
“Oh… Jungkook…” You mewl, smiling triumphantly against his mouth.
Fucking finally.
“You have,” He pulls back, lips kiss-swollen and stained with lip gloss, “No idea,” His hands sneakily find your hips, guiding your body until you’re straddling his towel-clad thighs, “How long,” He’s smirking, palming the fat of your ass when his lips find your in a hurry, “I’ve wanted to fuck you.”
“Well why didn’t you say anything then?!” You frown, sighing in bliss when your dress is being pushed up, pooling your abdomen that’s full of pork belly and butterflies. Giving enough leeway for Jungkook’s fingertips to slip into the waistband of your underwear.
He chuckles into the kiss, averting his mouth to pepper your jawline with lots more dainty little kisses, whispering, “The same reason you didn’t, I didn’t know you were into me like that.”
“Except I tried, multiple times…” You hum, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Palms explore Jungkook’s muscular back, every lump, bump, every inch of tanned bare flesh that you’ve seen simultaneously way too many times and not enough at all. “All the slutty outfits… The compliments, I’ve been pretty vocal about finding you attractive actually.” You’re grinning, fingertips toying with the long brunette hairs at the nape of his neck.
At this Jungkook sighs, lulling his head back to get a better look at your face. His eyes are blown dark with lust, his gaze hooded and intense. But it’s the breath-taking smile he wears that sends a rush of heat straight between your legs.
“I do like a woman who’s vocal about what she wants.” He winks, crushing his lips to yours once more, “So tell me what you want loser.”
“Want you.” You pout, elbows resting atop his broad shoulders when you brush the hair away from his face, physically incapable from breaking the string of messy kisses. He tastes like peaches and sin. “Want you to make me come.”
“Yeah?” He chuckles, ridding your body of the skimpy little dress that didn’t leave much to his imagination. “Wish you told me all this sooner, could’ve been blowing your back out daily by now.”
“Not my fault you can’t take a hint.” You snort, blood rushing to your cheeks when you see his hungry stare fixed to your almost bare body atop of his thighs.
He rolls his eyes, “You’re one to talk. Why do you think I put your snacks on the top shelf?”
“So you can help me reach them…?” You scoff, biting down on your lip, “So you look like a strong alpha man helping his poor defenceless vertically challenged roommate?”
“Nah,” He admits with throaty laughter, large palms exploring your curves and reaching round your back, until they’re unclasping your bra in one swift movement, “Like seeing your ass peek out the tiny little dresses you wear when you get on your tiptoes.”
Your mouth falls open in genuine shock, brows raised expectantly, “Jeon Jungkook!” You gasp, gripping his chin and angling it towards your lips, “Who knew you were such a fucking pervert?”
The man’s in a total daze, lost in your eyes with a bright smile, “You think that's perverted? You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Maybe this is a bad idea. Having wild, carnal, fringing-on-illegal sweaty hot passionate sex with your roommate. Maybe. But when your bare back hits his soft mattress with a ‘ooomf’ and he rids himself of that damn towel, you struggle to see past this moment right here, right now. Jungkook is naked, and it’s a glorious sight.
You’re grinning when he crawls up the bed, but to your surprise, no, rather to your excitement, he stops when his profile is faced with your underwear. Hooking his fingertips beneath your thong he smirks, gaze briefly meeting yours until he’s dragging your underwear beneath your ass and down your legs.
Being naked in front of Jungkook is something you’ve often thought about, it was the motivation behind your tactical shave earlier today, secretly praying this would happen. But now that you’re here, in his monochrome bedroom that smells of vanilla, on full display for the man you’ve been crushing on for so long. It all gets a little overwhelming.
“What are you doing?” He mumbles, thick brows pinched when you sheepishly shut your legs and stop him from seeing the whole show.
“I-, uh…” You swallow, clearing your throat, “It’s been a while…”
“And?”
“And I’m nervous.” You giggle, throwing your head back into his pillows.
At this he makes his way up to your face, knocking your legs apart with his knees to settle his weight between them. His strong arms hold his body in place, planted either side of your face. The way he’s peering down at you should be illegal, so smug yet there’s a glimmer of concern behind his sparkly eyes. It’s when he releases a breath of air against your face that his features soften into a faint smile, awestricken.
“I think you’re gorgeous Y/N, you don’t need to be nervous.”
“I haven’t had sex in almost a year…” You whisper, avoiding his gaze.
“And?” He repeats, chuckling mostly to himself, “Neither have I. And it didn’t stop you from using that noisy ass vibrator of yours the other night, did it?” Your eyes snap to his in a panic, he’s fully laughing now, the sound equal parts mischievous and salacious. “Walls are very thin…” He sniffs, tilting his chin to the wall his headboard rests on, backing onto your bedroom.
It’s after you sigh, beyond mortified that he heard such obscenities, that he sinks his lips to a sweet spot on your neck, sucking the flesh harsh enough to leave sensual bruises, “Let me make you feel good baby, I promise I’ll make you feel good… Don’t be nervous.” He murmurs, and you’re left breathless.
The pet name sends a rush of something strange over your body, you’re not used to him calling you anything other than loser. Maybe your name, but definitely not baby. You like it. While he’s working on making a total mess of your neck the familiar heat and lust comes back, stronger, deeper, and more determined.
“Jungkook… Please… W-want you to make me feel good.” You whisper, already in a daze.
It’s then that you feel him smirk against your skin, planting one final coy kiss to your lips before making his way down your body with one continuous lick that has your body aflame. His tongue never leaves you, travelling to your collarbones, your breasts. The flat wet muscle glides over your nipple and you gasp, brows furrowed in concentration.
“You’re so sensitive…” He hums, lapping up your nipple, taking it between his teeth and playfully sucking. Tiny whimpers and moans peep from your lips, along with the occasional gasp that has your roommate losing his goddamn mind. His tongue soon finds the other nipple, winning himself more of the same noises that are making his cock throb with anticipation already.
“So nobody’s ever made you come, huh?” He mumbles, “But you’re so fucking sensitive baby… Aren’t you?”
“Mhm…” You bite your lip, hands greedily smoothing over his bare shoulders. You want to feel his body, his entire body. You want it on top of you, next to you, underneath you, inside you. Perhaps it’s due to all the pent up frustration harboured toward him, but there’s a dull beat between your legs that you so desperately want him to listen to.
And then it hits you, Jungkook likes vocal women.
“Make me come please… Want you to make me come…” You moan, writhing around beneath him at the new found tingles all over your body. The cool air kisses your core when he spreads your thighs, sinking down the bed until he’s eye level with your bare pussy.
“Oh my god.”
His words win you to tug yourself up onto your elbows, a little curious. That’s when you find him staring at your vagina with pure astonishment. Lips ajar, brows hiked so far up his forehead that it’s wrinkled, a small surprised scoff hot against your flesh.
“What?” You frown, suddenly self-conscious, “What are you looking at?”
“What am I looking at?” He parrots, sighing with puffed out cheeks, “The prettiest pussy I’ve ever fucking seen, that’s what I’m looking at.”
“Oh.” You giggle, not knowing what to say.
You didn’t expect him to be so confident in the bedroom, so outspoken and complimentary. It’s no secret that he’s a very socially awkward man in the streets. Apparently a very different story to the personality he has between the sheets.
“You have the cutest little beauty mark…” He whispers, sinking his lips to your folds, “Right here.” He kisses you gently, and you feel like squealing. “Fuck, you’re addicting baby. Losing my mind down here.” He chuckles right before digging in.
He places a languid, drawn-out lick from your entrance to your clit, one so mind-numbingly slow that your toes curl against the sheets. He repeats this, once, twice, three, four, five times until he’s dipping his tongue between your folds with a whispered moan. It feels nice, feels good, but it's not enough.
“You plan on making me come any time soon, loser?” You playfully kick his shoulder, winning hot laughter against your centre.
It’s then that his arms hook under your thighs and he drags you closer to his waiting face, until his full lower-profile is smothered in your cunt. His chin, his multitalented lips, the soft bend of his nose, all of it. He playfully slaps your thighs and you take the hint, throwing your legs over those obnoxiously broad shoulders of his.
That’s when your guttural moan fills the air, when Jungkook starts lapping up your clit so expertly that you question whether the whole ‘shy, socially inept, cute boy’ persona he has going for him is just a façade.
He’s good at this. He’s fucking amazing at this. You’re gasping for air when he suckles on your clit, massaging the muscle with his tongue while it’s still being pulled between his lips. You groan, you hiss, you whimper. It feels indescribably fantastic, and there’s no way he’s not going to be able to get you off doing this.
“Holy shit, Jungkook.” You whine, hips pushing your core impossibly closer to his face. “Mmmph, oh—” Another long moan cuts you off, actually it’s more of a groan. A needy one at that.
His hooded stare flickers up to your face, watching your every move before him. “So sensitive.” He murmurs, sounding disbelieved.
Watching you wriggle and whimper for him only fuels his lust further. He takes it upon himself to push your legs onto your chest with one hand. Until your knees are to your breasts. You don’t complain at the new angle so he carries on, pulling away from your pussy for a second to spit on his fingers. Not that he thinks you’re going to need it, you're already drowning his sheets.
Unceremoniously he plunges two digits into you dripping walls, and you shriek.
“Jungkook, oh god, oh my god Jungkook…” You pant, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open.
It’s a second later when his mouth reattaches to your clit and you’re borderline sobbing. You feel so full, like an elastic band being stretched to it’s limits. You’re going to snap soon, you know it. There’s a heat building in your gut, one that comes in rhythmic waves that match your racing heart.
That’s when something odd swells inside your stomach, something new and exciting and overwhelming. Jungkook’s fingers aren’t fucking in and out of you like you’d expect them to be, they’re consistently inside you, curling upward and pressing against a spot that very few people, yourself included, have ever managed to discover.
“Jungkook seriously what the-, fuck!” You warn him, eyes flying open in utter disbelief.
“Mmm?” He chuckles, his response lost to the sounds of your pornographically wet pussy squelching and sloshing around his fingers.
“I’m-, oh my fucking god…” You’re whining, whimpering, shivering. “Feels so fucking good.”
At this he moans in response, sucking your clit harder, hitting that spot inside you even harder, faster. You inhale sharply, preparing yourself for the earth-shattering ecstasy that’s sure to crash down on your body any second now. But strangely enough it isn’t the hold of your clit between your roommates lips that pushes you over the edge, nor is it the thrilling curl of his finger.
You peer down at him, his brows furrowed deep with concentration, the same way they are when he eats something delicious. His face is spinning and twisting to each and every side to make sure he’s licking and sucking all your nerve endings. And that’s when his heavy eyes flicker up at your mess of a face.
Jungkook winks.
And you squirt everywhere.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god!” You groan, watching the man who you’ve been simping over for years giggle against your skin as though he hasn’t just made a catastrophic mistake.
Because now you’ve experienced this side of him, there’s absolutely no way you can go back to just being roommates.
He doesn’t fold, doesn’t stop, nor does he slow. No. He carries on. Sucking, finger-fucking, licking, moaning, curling those digits and slurping at your pussy until it happens again. And again. And again.
And again.
“P-please…” Your body jumps and jolts on the mattress, convulsing from oversensitivity, your back damp with sweat and heart beating so fast you fear it’s going to implode any second now. “I-, I can’t take another one…” You pant, hands flying to the hairs at his scalp where you try and pry him aware from your core.
He hums in agreement, nodding along with your words all while wearing a big, dumb grin. “Okay.”
You’re fucked. Head spinning, reeling, brain unresponsive. Limbs already aching, you’ve never come this many times in one sitting to date. Not even with that ‘noisy-ass’ vibrator of yours. The distant sound of laughter forces you to come back to reality, finding Jungkook laid next to you with shiny lips and a wicked smirk. His head resting on the bend of his elbow, his pierced brow quirked curiously.
“I’ll give you a minute...” He’s laughing, tongue toying with his silver lip ring. A moment later he shifts on the bed, until he’s laid on his back and his entwined hands are tucked behind his head. A content smile broadens his features, a smug one, one that gives you a devilish idea.
Adrenaline and the need to have his cock inside you courses your veins, along with a hint of arrogance. That’s what leads you to sitting up, mouth falling open when you catch sight of Jungkook’s huge cock, rock hard and waiting. Oh you’re about to give him the best birthday present in the world. He wants a woman that can ride him? Who can last longer than four bounces?
Challenge accepted.
Carefully, you throw your leg over his waist until you’re hovering over his muscular body. He really is huge, by every ridiculous definition of the word. Lazily, he opens his eyes before they grow wide with surprise at your current position.
“Oh?” He chuckles, hungrily exploring your naked body with his stare, as though he hasn’t been ogling it for the past however long you’ve been in here. “I’ll warn you now, if you’re any good at this I’m gonna have to take you on a date.”
“We’re going out on a date regardless.” You snort, gripping the base of his shaft, shit, he’s big, “Since you’re the only guy around here who knows how to make me come.”
“Suits me just fine loser, I'll take you on a date. If you're lucky I'll make you squirt again at the dinner table.” He grins, wetting his lips. “Let me rephrase then, if you ride me like you mean it I’ll take you on the best date of your life this weekend.”
“Deal.” You wink, chest swelling.
You pump his cock a few times before you sink yourself down onto it with a long, shaky moan.
“Holy shit… baby…” He pants, tugging at his own hair with furrowed brows.
Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut but you can just about make out them rolling back into his skull behind his lashes. It’s when you’re fully settled onto his cock that you bite your lip, picking yourself up only to slam down onto him with a loud wet smack. His doe-eyes snap open at lightening speed, a drawn-out grown rumbling his strong chest.
“Fuck!” He gasps, jaw slack and eyes wide.
You grin down at him triumphantly, clearly he didn’t know you were capable of making him feel just as good as he made you feel. You repeat the motion, harder. You do it again, and again, until Jungkook’s hissing and messily gripping your hips in a hurry.
“Y/N… What the fuck?!” He stifles a moan when he bites his lip, mesmerised by the way your pussy squeezes his cock each and every time you pull yourself up and drop back onto it. “Seriously what the fuck are you made of, oh my-, fuck—”
It’s at this moment you brace yourself on his chest with splayed hands, keeping your body steady before you ride him like your existence depends on it. Like there’s no tomorrow. Like you’re the only two people on earth. There’s a hot burn in your thighs but you don’t let up, bouncing on him consistently, pace never faltering.
He’s so big that you fear you’ll split open, but you welcome the underlining sting of being this stuffed. Obscene wet noises along with the sound of the bed squeaking in sync with your movements fill the air. Beneath you Jungkook is a moaning mess, he’s chewing on his lips as though that’ll stop the profanities and groans from escaping him – but it doesn’t.
“Baby… Oh we definitely-, oh shit-,” He hisses, hands snaking round to your ass cheeks where he squeezes them like they’re his favourite stress-balls, “We should’ve done this-, way-, waaaay sooner.” He moans again, head thrown back into his pillow.
You’re slamming down on him with force, so much intent behind your bounces that the crown of his cock hits your cervix each time without fail. The sight before you will be burned into your memory forever. Jeon Jungkook, panting, whimpering, trying his absolute best to keep it together all while you ride him to heaven and hell and back again.
“You like it when I ride this fat cock of yours?” You moan, usually you’re not one for dirty talk but you simply can’t help yourself. He looks… Feral. And it’s only spurring you on even more. “You’re so big Jungkook, fuck, feels so fucking good inside me…”
“You-, you’re…” He can’t get his words out, they’re dying in the back of his throat, lost to the ‘mmmphs’ and ‘ooohhhs’ he delivers every time you drop down on him. “Do I l-like it? Fuck. Best-, mmmph, best fucking pussy... Slow down baby, please.” He whines, the sound has your lower abdomen in utter turmoil, another orgasm threatening to ripple your body.
You do as he says, he is the birthday boy after all. Besides, there’s no way in hell this is going to be the only time you’ll ride him. Your evenings together are going to look a whole lot different from now on, that's for sure.
The speed of your ministrations slows, but the depth and force does not. You’re still fucking yourself on his hard length with so much purpose that you feel his knees buckling, thick thighs twitching beneath you.
“Baby, fuck…” He rasps, “Ohhh fuck! Mmmph…” It’s like he’s mesmerised, mouth hanging open and eyes incapable of looking anywhere but you. He's completely infatuated with the way you feel atop of him.
You feel a hand snake up to the nape of your neck before you’re being pulled toward his face, his lips smashing against yours in another series of messy, desperate kisses. Gritting your teeth when the white hot heat inside your walls threatens to snap, Jungkook feels your sopping walls clench around his girth and groans into your mouth.
“Again? Ohhh...” He hisses, trying his best to sound cocky but it’s less than convincing when he too is a whimpering mess. “You’re a fucking goddess Y/N-, ohhhh.” He pants, finding your hips with tattooed hands where he holds them in place.
It’s a moment later when he plants his feet flat against the mattress, bending his knees, showcasing his strength when he keeps you in one place above him. That’s when he fucks you hard, as though he’s punishing you for something. Thrusting in and out of you so violently that you’re blubbering into the crook of his neck.
“Fuck! Right there, right fucking there!” You cry out, voice almost lost to the brutal clapping noises of you being fucked ten ways to Sunday.
Each rut of his hips has you seeing stars, he feels so fucking good inside you. So deep. His pelvis is knocking against your swollen clit, be it intentional or accidental you'll never know - but it has you spiralling into insanity.
A long, vocal moan tears from your throat when you’re hit with another orgasm. You feel boneless, as though you’ve just discovered the real definition of pleasure. You’re so wet that he’s sliding in and out of you with ease now, the pulsing of you walls throwing him over his own edge until he thrusts into you one final time.
It's deeper, he's holding your hips in place, dragging them impossibly closer to his body when he fills you with his come. Breathless and sweaty.
“Baby… Oh my… god.” He chokes out between ragged breaths, and you can’t help but giggle into his skin.
Moments later you’re rolling off him, too weak to adjust the position you land in but you do throw a leg over his thighs with a smile. Heavy breathing and quiet chuckles bring you back down to earth, forcing you to gaze over at your roommate.
Jungkook’s already looking at you like he’s madly in love, as though you’ve just offered to do this every day with him for the rest of your lives. When you wet your lips and smirk you register his cock twitching against his abdomen, he really is shameless. And by the look on his face, he isn’t even close to being through with you.
"Best. Birthday. Ever." He pants, absolutely befuddled that he's just had sex, mind-blowingly, indescribable sex with his roommate, the same roommate he's been fawning over for a long time now.
You send him a wink before pulling his face to yours, there's no fucking way you're done with him either.
“Happy birthday loser.”
x
6K notes · View notes
taleasnewastime · 3 months
Text
What if I love you too much?
Tumblr media
Summary: Jungkook. It’s only a name you learn after your son kicks his ball over the fence. Before that you only knew him as the hot new neighbour who mows his lawn topless. And though you have no intention of getting to know him anymore than that, inevitably you do. You don’t necessarily fall, it’s too slow for that, but you definitely develop feelings you don’t intend to feel. Because you know men like him, and you know that whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably not feeling the same. All the same, however hard you try, you can’t help yourself.
Pairing: Jungkook x reader
Genre: fluff; angst; smut; single mum reader
Word count: 20.6k
Warnings: Single mum, small fights, explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), safe penetrative sex, reader thinks Jungkook is cheating/playing the field, angst, but also fluff, child gets injured (though not seriously), talks of cuts and a small amount of blood.
Additional Drabbles!
Authors Note: Happy Saturday! Hope you’re having a nice weekend so far :) 
Tumblr media
“Ask him to mow your lawn.”
“What? Rosie, why would I –”
“Because look at your lawn, Y/N,” she twists to look at you with a flat face before looking back out your front window with dreamy eyes. “And then look at him.”
You look at the man in question, every glistening, no-tee-shirt-on, tattooed sleeved, square inch of him. Ok, so maybe you get her point a little. Still, you’re not about agree with her.
“I can mow,” you defend yourself instead. “And my lawns not that bad.”
“But can you mow like him?”
“Anyone can mow like him. He’s literally just going up and down the grass.”
“Y/N. Please. Just look at that body.”
“I thought you wanted me to look at his mowing.”
You catch her rolling her eyes as you twist to sit properly on your sofa, no longer wanting to objectify your new neighbour. You don’t even know his name and yet you’re already ogling at the beads of sweat that roll down the many abs he’s sporting. The feminist in you is ashamed.
“Then ask for some sugar,” Rosie continues, still looking out the window. “Or bake him some cakes to properly welcome him to the street, or I don’t know ask him to look after Zac.”
“Oh yeah, because that’s the way to any man’s heart. Please can you look after my four-year-old child?”
“Alright,” Rosie huffs, finally giving in and twisting to sit by you. “I was just brainstorming.”
“Well, thanks but no thanks.”
You stand, try to focus on the reason you came into the room in the first place. Before you spotted your new neighbour mowing topless you were cleaning the mess Zac, your four-year-old son, had left before he bulldozed his way into the garden. You love your son: he’s cute, caring, behaves and will happily entertain himself when you’re busy, but he has so much energy that sometimes he’s like a little tornado. You’re always cleaning up in his leave.
“You need to introduce yourself at some point,” Rosie continues, her voice taking on a more innocent tone, but you still know her game.
“He’s my neighbour –”
“Exactly.”
“– I don’t talk to all my neighbours. We’ll probably just smile if we happen to get out our cars at the same time.”
Rosie heaves a sigh as if you’re being utterly unreasonable. “You’re impossible.”
“You make it sound like I haven’t been with a man since Henry,” you’re still cramming toys into the plastic box you keep hidden behind the sofa when you say the name of Zac’s dad so miss the annoyed look that crossed Rosie’s face.
“Remind me who again?”
You stand up straight, twist to frown at her. Really?
“And don’t say Cam. We all know that was just a glorified blow job.”
You heat, shake your head as your frown deepens. You tell her everything but sometimes wonder if you should leave certain details out.
“There was Paul,” you begin but are put off by the look Rosie gives you. Ok, maybe she’s right, Paul was the IT guy at work that took you on two dates, the furthest you got was a kiss on your doorstep. “Urm, ok, fine. Though, dating a man is still being with him. But fine, what about Aaron?”
“Arrogant Aaron. That’s one.”
You don’t comment on the nickname, though she may have a point, you have bigger things to think about, your brain churning through the last four years to find any semblance of a relationship that will get Rosie off your back.
“James. One night, but it was good.”
“We’re up to two,” she says in a tone that implies you’re not doing well and need to improve.
“Ryan,” you almost shout the name at her when it pops into your head.
“Was Ryan really after Zac?”
“Yep, I remember Zac waking up screaming right when he was about to –”
“Auntie Roo,” you’re cut off by said screaming child.
Your lips seal shut, you both go stiff, if Zac wasn’t four, you’d both look incredibly guilty. Luckily he isn’t old enough to question it. Instead he does a light jump up and down in front of Rosie, eyes wide and smile broad.
“Please can you play?” The words are a little slurred together in his rush to get them out, some of the letters still not properly forming so when you’re with strangers you have to interpret for him. Rosie is fluent in four-year-old speak and the sentence was clear enough for you both to understand.
“Shall we play out front?”
You shoot daggers at the top of her head. She only smiles.
“But, I wanna play with Baby Boe.”
“Fine,” Rosie says still chipper, she stands to her full height rolling her eyes at you. “There’s at least no mistaking he’s yours.”
You give her a sarcastic smile as she twists and follows your son into the garden, Zac babbling on about something unintelligible, Rosie humming along as if fully engaged. You watch them disappear before going back to the task at hand, shoving the last toys into the box you collapse onto the sofa, happy to have even a minute of quiet to yourself.
Closing your eyes you can hear Rosie and Zac playing house in the back garden with his toy dog, Baby Boe. But there’s also that mechanical sound from earlier. You try to ignore it, but now alone you find it hard. Sitting up straight you make sure you truly are alone before twisting and looking over the back of the sofa.
Your neighbour is still there, on the last strip of grass now. You watch as he finishes, stops the lawn mower and then sweeps a hand through his hair. It makes his abs stretch and his arms flex. It only entrances you more. Rosie is right, he’s hot as hell, but what she doesn’t realise is that you don’t need that in your life. Sex is great, and though you’ve only had a few ‘relationships’ since Zac, there have been enough for you to know that however big the payoff may be, it’s never big enough.
You guess you’ll just have to appreciate the view with this one.
Tumblr media
You feel sweaty and tired but unfortunately your son is a bundle of never-ending energy, so here you are kicking a ball around your garden in the baking sun with Zac.
He’s giggling as you half force a smile on your face. It’s not that you’re not having a good time, you love time with your son, it’s more that you’ve been kicking this same ball around for nearing half an hour now. Anytime you’ve suggested doing something else Zac has had a near meltdown. It’s better to play along with it sometimes.
Zac hits the ball towards you, trying to get it between the section of fence you pretend to defend. You leap the wrong way letting the ball hit the fence with a bang.
“And he scores!” You cheer.
Zac screams, hands in the air he does a little running celebration, one he’s done after scoring every goal so far. It still makes you smile.
“What does that make it now, Zac?”
“One million!”
You laugh, fetching the ball and lightly kicking it in his direction.
“Come on then, let’s make it one million and one.”
Zac continues to giggle and run around the garden a little before running at the ball. You can see it’s a bad idea before he even kicks it but are too late to say anything. Zac’s foot hits the ball and it goes shooting towards you. You duck, cover your face with your hands on instinct. But the ball goes over you and the fence.
There’s a beat of silence before Zac realises what he’s done.
“Oh dear,” you say gently, already trying to do damage control.
Zac looks from the top of the fence to your face, his eyes wide with shock.
“It’s ok, we have another ball,” you say.
“But I want my ball,” his eyes are welling up, his bottom lip pouting out.
You try not to sigh and make the situation worse. Instead you go over to the house and pick up one of the other balls. It looks exactly the same, yet Zac doesn’t look impressed.
“This is your ball, Zac,” you try to fill your voice with excitement rather than annoyance. “This one is just as fun. Look.”
You bounce it on the floor before softly kicking towards him. Even you’d admit you don’t do a very convincing job at showing how great the ball is and judging by Zac’s tearful frown, he hasn’t been sold on your pitch either.
“Ok,” you sigh, Zac still looking tearful. “We can go knock next door and ask for it back, but he may not be in and then we’re not allowed to just go around and get it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not our house, is it?”
“But it’s my ball.”
“Yes, but we still have to ask nicely for it back, don’t we?” You don’t wait for a response to that rhetorical question, just continue to plough on. “Come on then.”
You hold your hand out and are rewarded with a smaller one placed in it. You head to your side gate, trying and failing to think about what you’re about to do and who you’re about to meet. He’s just a man. Really nothing to stress about. But having Rosie’s words in your head makes it feel like meeting him is something it’s not.
“You have to ask him Zac. So, what do you say?”
There’s a second’s pause filled with the grinding of your gate on the pavement. You look down at Zac when you’re out front and can see his brain working a mile a minute trying to work out the answer to your question.
“You say: I accidentally kicked my ball into your garden. Please can I have it back?”
“I accidentally kick my ball. Please can I have it?” He messes up the pronunciation of accidentally, it’s cute.
“Kicked it into your garden,” you correct as you approach your neighbour’s door.
“I kicked my ball in your garden. Can I have it?”
“Please,” you remind him gently before looking down at him.
He whispers the word back at you, now stood in front of the man’s door he looks a little less sure about the situation. Still, however much you’re also dreading this you’re going to do. it You need to have the confidence for both of you.
You take a breath before looking up and pressing the doorbell. There’s silence as you wait, neither you nor Zac saying anything.
Then the door’s clicking and being pulled open and then there he is. On a slight step above you, you have to look up a little to take in the wide smile he’s showing you. He’s got on a large white t-shirt, baggy black trousers and yet, even though he’s completely covered compared to when you saw him mowing his lawn and the top is not giving you even a hint of what lies beneath, you still feel flustered by his presence.
“Hello,” he says, eyes flicking between you and Zac, smile on his lips but a question in his eyes.
“Hi,” you squeak back, voice too high. “I’m Y/N and this is Zac. We’re your neighbours and uh, Zac here wants to ask you something.”
Both your eyes go down to your little boy who’s now clinging to your leg. He looks up at you unsure, his eyes quickly going to the man and then back to you. Your heart melts.
“Come on Zac,” you say in a far softer tone, your hand going to brush the back of his head. “Can you remember what we said?”
He mutters something that you can’t make out, his lips hardly moving, his eyes on the ground. Still, you look at the man to see his reaction. You’re surprised when you find him leaning in and down towards your son as if to better pick up on what he’s saying. Your heart does something funny and you have to mentally slap yourself to refocus.
“You’ve got to speak a little louder baby.”
Zac addresses you when he says, “Please can I have my ball?”
Well, at least it was louder and he used the word please. But it’s no surprise when you look at the man and he’s looking at you nonplus.
“Zac accidentally kicked his ball into your garden. We were wondering if we could go get it back?”
“Please,” Zac pipes in and while you flush the man seems to light up from within, a mixture of amusement and utter joy at your son embarrassing you.
“Yes, that’s right Zac,” you manage to keep your voice steady. “Please can we have our ball back?”
“Of course,” the man replies, looking between you both. “Why don’t I open up the side gate and you can go find it Zac?”
You look at Zac and he looks back at you unsure what to reply. You give a little nod of your head for encouragement and are rewarded with him looking back at the man and repeating your gesture.
“Give me a sec then,” the man says, standing back straight. “I need to do the bolt from the other side. Why don’t you go wait for me over there?”
You both look to where he points, the gate in question. Zac, now less nervous around the man starts without you. Glancing back at the man to be met with another smile, you swallow before following Zac.
It only takes a second for the gate to grind open. The ally is much like yours, concrete slabs leading down the side of his house to the green of his garden. The man stood in your way bends to look at Zac.
“Why don’t you go run in and have a look? See if you can find your ball in all my long grass?”
This time he needs no encouragement from you. It seems the man has gained his trust in the few minutes you’ve been in his presence. You feel him slip away from you and then watch as he runs down the ally into the garden, leaving you and the man alone. You scramble for words to fill the silence to make it less awkward, hope it doesn’t take Zac long to come back to you.
“Sorry about this,” your eyes flick to the mans which are already on you. “I promise there’s not normally balls flying over the fence.”
“Doesn’t matter if they do,” he replies with a small smile.
Ok. That’s that topic exhausted then with no sign of Zac coming back.
“You enjoying the new house?”
He flicks his head to the side to look at the house in question as if to remember before looking back at you. “Yeah, it’s a great neighbourhood. House needs a lot of work, but I’ll get there.”
“Ah, yeah. I can’t imagine Lindsey and Ron having the same interior style as you.”
“You could say it’s a bit dated for me.”
You giggle, actually laugh at the words as if they’re some amazing joke. It’s more trying to picture this man, this big, buff, man with such a pretty smile living in a house that was previously occupied by two seventy years olds that you don’t think decorated since they moved in forty years ago.
You cut the laugh off short when you realise how odd you must look. The man’s smiling back at you, a different smile to any you’ve seen so far, one you’re sure is him questioning your sanity and who he’s living next to. You cough, shift your weight from foot to foot as you peak over his shoulder praying for Zac to hurry up.
“Well, you’ve certainly managed to tame the front garden.”
“Just the floral carpets to go then,” he smiles at you, his eyes glinting with what looks like a thousand lights.
“Well, if you need a hand with anything, I’m happy to help,” you regret the words as soon as they leave your lips. You really don’t need to get tied up with your neighbour. “Though I have no DIY knowledge, so would probably be no help.”
He doesn’t look put off by your obvious U-turn. “I’ll keep you in mind.”
And you’re screwed. Honestly, is that all it takes? A good-looking guy, some smiles at you and your son and a bit of kindness? Rosie is right, it’s been way too long if a simple smile turns you on.
“Mummy.”
And just like that it’s broken. You bite back the warning of being careful running down the cement paved ally with the ball in his hands. Instead, just smile at your beaming son.
“You found it. Good job. Now come on, I’m sure,” your words slope off, only just realising you have no idea what your neighbours name is.
You look up at him and he fills in your silence with his name, “Jungkook.”
“Right. I’m sure Jungkook has things to do,” you say to Zac. “What do we say now?”
Zac goes a little timid again, squeezing the ball to his chest. “Thank you,” he mumbles before twisting and running back to your house.
“Sorry,” you wince, turning back to Jungkook. “And thank you.”
“It was nothing.”
“Well, thanks anyway,” you grow awkward and decide now is the time to follow your sons lead. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
“I’m sure you will,” he smiles back at you.
Twisting you start walking back to your house, already trying to forget everything that just happened. When you’re safe in the walls of your house you pull your phone out and type out a message to Rosie.
This is why I didn’t want to meet my neighbour.
As usual, it only takes a few seconds for her response to come – you swear she’s attached to her phone.
Tell. Me. Everything.
Tumblr media
There’s a knock on your door. You leave Zac colouring on the kitchen table so you can go answer it. You feel relaxed until you see who’s there. Your whole body going taunt at the sight of Jungkook at your door. Mind flicking through the possible reasons for him to be here.
“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted me to mow your lawns?”
It takes you aback, you’re pretty sure you might even recoil a little from the seemingly simple question. It might take a second but you end up smiling, have to bite your lip to hide how amused you are. It’s half due to how nervous he looks on your doorstep, but more because of Rosie and your conversation from when you first saw him. He must take your beat of silence the wrong way if his increased twitchiness is anything to go by.
“I was just doing mine and thought yours needed doing,” he almost cuts himself off in his haste to clarify. “Not that it looks bad or anything. Just that it could do with a cut. Or more that it saves you the job. And as I was already out doing mine, I thought it would –”
You properly laugh now. Loud enough to cut Jungkook’s ramblings off. He looks like he’s about to throw the towel in and head home but you stop him with a wave of your hand.
“Sorry,” you continue to laugh. “It’s just … of course you can mow my lawn.”
There’s a beat and then Jungkook’s face is turning more serious, a hint of amusement in his eyes as his head cocks to the side. Oh, god. Maybe that sounded like too much of an innuendo. You stand up straight, the laughter dying on your lips.
“I just mean I won’t be offended.”
“Ok,” he says, positions swapped, him amused and you awkward. “Need anything else doing while I’m here?”
“Uh,” you look behind you into the house as if to check before looking back at him. His smile seems to have grown in those few seconds. “Nope. I think we’re all good.”
“Just the lawns then,” he grins, seeming to relax into his position in your door.
“Just the lawns,” you squeak. “Please.”
He nods but still lingers. How does someone go from a rambling nervous mess to this? Though you’ve passed each other coming and going, this is the first time the two of you have properly spoken since Zac kicked his ball over the fence. You wouldn’t have predicted it would go like this.
“Want me to do the back too?”
You almost choke. “If it’s no trouble?”
He shrugs. “As I’m here.”
“Ok,” you look behind you again, for an escape, for a reason to look away from those shining eyes and cocky smile. You’re pretty sure he’s one of these guys that realises the effect he has on people and enjoys it. “Want me to bring you out a coffee or something?”
“I’m good. I’ll just get on with it.”
“Ok, well, thank you.”
“No problem, Y/N.”
You close the door and resist the urge to collapse on the floor.
Tumblr media
“If you kick it too hard, you’re going to have to get it,” you warn as you do another light kick of the ball in Zac’s direction.
As if in spite of your words or maybe because it’s no fun not kicking the ball hard, Zac launches the ball in your direction. Still, you laugh as you manage to leap to the side and stop the ball before it goes off down the hill behind you.
“Maybe we should go and play in the back garden?”
“No,” Zac half screams the word. “There’s horrible fences there.”
He’s referencing the time he kicked the ball over the fence and then had to go collect it. Apparently it was such a jarring experience that he doesn’t like playing there anymore, though you would have thought being able to go in the neighbours garden would be exciting for him.
“Ok, then we have to kick a little softer.”
He follows your request a few times before once again deciding playing by your rules is boring. You let it go for a bit, giggling along with Zac as you leap and try and save each of his kicks. You do a few of your own rouge kicks just so he has to run a little and it gives you a minutes piece. Award for mum of the year over here.
You’re shouting something about how great one of Zac’s kicks is when you hear a door slam. You don’t think too much of it until you hear a voice shouting out.
“Already training for the Premier League?”
You look over to the voice and are met with a beaming Jungkook slowly walking towards you, baggy trousers and just as baggy a top blowing in the breeze. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him not smiling.
“I think we still have a way to go if that’s the aim,” you joke back, looking back at Zac just in time to see him kick a ball that goes miles to your right. Luckily, it’s not a missile like some of his others, but it still feels embarrassing having to jog after the ball with Jungkook now as an audience.
By the time you have the ball back in possession and are back to where you were once stood Jungkook is only meters away. Still smiling and you catch the end of him telling Zac what a great kick he just did. He goes shy, something you always find funny as he’s always a screaming ball of energy around you and other’s he knows, you love seeing this other side of him. Still, it means you need to hold the confidence for both of you.
“Is there room for one more?”
The question takes you off guard, even though he’s made the effort to walk the short distance to be stood here.
“Uh, sure,” you say then look at Zac. “That’s ok, isn’t it Zac?”
Zac doesn’t look sure but luckily he’s currently too shy to dispute you. You also don’t give him much time to disagree with you, lightly kick the ball in Zac’s direction before he can think.
He’s gentler when he kicks it back to you, his aim surprisingly good for once. You feel a small amount of pressure when you kick the ball to Jungkook, trying to include him. It feels like when you were once in school and were laughed at for throwing the rounders ball miles off the mark. It doesn’t go badly, though Jungkook has to step a little to his left to pick it up under his feet, he expertly flicks it between his feet and then knocks it on to Zac.
Zac looks mesmerised by the simple move that you’d never be able to replicate. You can see his nerves slowly cracking with a small smile going to his lips. He still kicks the ball to you, but as the game goes on and as you and Jungkook try to change the direction a few times, Zac finally completely lets loose.
He’s giggling and doing big kicks again. He’s laughing at Jungkook doing more little tricks with the ball before he kicks it on. And he even starts to shout little bits, imitating the words the Jungkook cries out, what a save, that was close, such a good touch.
Soon enough you’re out, you’ve lost your son to your neighbour and a football. Neither of them are kicking the ball anymore, their running at each other trying to do tackles. At least Jungkook seems to realise he’s playing a four-year-old and not someone his age, his tackles are light and he always kicks the ball a little too far and is a little too slow to pick it back up letting Zac get it.
“I’ll go get us some drinks,” you say to seemingly no one. But you don’t really care because your son looks so happy.
His laughs fill up the street as you make your way back to the house and when you look back you watch as Jungkook tackles him and lifts him up into the air, easily tossing him around in the sky making Zac laugh even harder.
You may take a little longer than necessary to make the drinks.
Tumblr media
You’re out-front playing with Zac again. Well, less playing and more sat on the curb watching Zac play. You’ve had a day at work, still need to cook yours and Zac’s dinner but you promised you’d come out and do something first. Given Zac is a ball of energy it’s better to let him get all of that out now, so he’ll go to sleep earlier. That’s always the aim anyway, sometimes it’s just not the reality.
The back garden apparently isn’t good enough for him now. After playing out front and Jungkook joining him on more than one occasion you think he secretly hopes that’s going to happen every time. He doesn’t outright ask for it, but you know your son and you can see the utter joy whenever he gets to play with your neighbour.
You watch Zac run around with one of his teddy’s, rambling on about how the dinosaur is going to get them so they have to go to the volcano.
Even if you’re not necessarily playing with Zac, you love this time spent with him. It’s always just been the two of you and though that’s been hard at times, there’s never been a moment you’ve truly regretted it. You thought you loved his dad, but that was nothing compared to what you feel for Zac.
The sound of a car pulls your attention from Zac. It’s rounding the corner onto your road, still far enough and going slow enough to not panic you, but you know Zac will be oblivious.
“Zac,” you shout, standing up. “Zac. There’s a car coming, you have to wait on that side of the road for it to pass.”
Zac looks over at you, wide-eyed as he takes in the information. You can’t deny that your heart swells a little at the fact he so obediently runs to the side of the road, even picks the side that’s closest which is opposite you.
You smile at him as the car gets closer but it stops before reaching you. You can see the confusion on Zac’s face about what he should do. The car’s stopped but it’s still so close, is he allowed to continue to play?
“It’s ok Zac,” you say just as the door to the car opens.
Zac runs along the pavement for a second, obviously still not entirely sure, but when the car door opens, he must deem that good enough to know the car’s not going to move again and runs out into the road.
You watch him for a second before glancing at who got out the car. You smile at the woman you’ve never seen before. Dressed in a nice skirt and top, you shouldn’t be surprised when she makes her way to your neighbour’s house. You look away as she goes up his drive and rings the bell; it’s none of your business who Jungkook chooses to spend his time with.
Zac obviously doesn’t feel the same.
“Jungkook,” your son shouts out the name, the k sound more like a g and the last one isn’t pronounced so it sounds more like Jun-goo then anything.
Still your neighbour looks over at the shout. His guest too. Now stood on the doorway, in the middle of greeting each other. Jungkook instantly smiles while it takes the woman a second longer. You just feel mortified.
“Zac, darling, I think he has a guest.”
“But I want to play.”
You glance over at your neighbour’s front door; both are still looking at you and though you’re sure they can hear your conversation they seem to be having their own more silent conversation. You feel hot when you look back at Zac. Though you shouldn’t feel embarrassed, you somehow do.
“He can’t play right now because –”
You’re cut off by a scream that sounds like the name Jungkook as Zac goes running in his direction. Truly mortified now you turn to jog after him, calling his name as you go. You manage to catch up to him as he reaches Jungkook’s lawn, place a hand on his shoulder to try and settle him.
“Zac,” you say firmly but as quietly as you can. Jungkook and the woman can definitely here you, you’re only a few meters away, but you’d rather they didn’t. “You don’t run away from me like that and you don’t cut me off when I’m telling you something.”
He looks wide-eyed up at you, lip pouted as if there are about to be water works soon. He’s at the age where everything he asks, he assumes he can get. No isn’t a word unless he’s saying it. And when you tell him anything other than yes, he gets stroppy. It’s a cute age, but it’s tough.
“I just want to play,” Zac mumbles.
You hold your hands out in a silent question that he accepts. Leaning down you pick him up under the arms. It’s more like lifting some weights at the gym then the baby you once had but settled onto your hip and arms cuddling your side make it all worth it. You’re about to speak words of comfort to him before apologising to Jungkook and his guest but a different voice changes that.
“It’s ok,” you look up to see Jungkook stepping towards you, the girl in his entry way looking at you over his shoulder. “I’d love to play with you too, Zac, but I can’t right now. Can I maybe play with you a different night?”
You feel Zac’s head nod against your chest where it’s lay. You run a soothing hand down his arm while you shoot Jungkook an apologetic look.
“You really don’t have to do –”
“No, I mean it. I love playing with Zac.”
You doubt the twenty something year old really enjoys playing with your four-year-old son. Especially as it has just become apparent he has a girlfriend. But the way he says it and the way he smiles; you can almost believe it.
“Well, we need to get in and cook dinner anyway don’t we, Zac.”
There’s another small nod against you and you look between Jungkook and the girl again. You feel so incredibly awkward, though Jungkook looks a little worried if anything.
“Sorry, for ruining the start of your evening,” you say to them both, twisting and carrying Zac back to your house before you can gain a reply. You’ll distract Zac with food. Your own embarrassment might be harder to hide.
Tumblr media
“Hey, let me help you with that.”
The weights that were your shopping bags are lifted out of your hands before you can protest. Soft, warm fingers run along yours to grasp the handles and then they’re gone. You turn to look at the man responsible.
“Jungkook, you really don’t have to,” but it’s like you’re talking to a wall, or more a back, as Jungkook has already turned and is heading to your front door.
“You get the others and it’ll be done in half the time,” he says over his shoulder.
You huff, still not exactly happy with the assumption you needed help, but you don’t audibly protest as you pick up the last remaining bag and follow Jungkook.
“You really don’t have to –”
“Just unlock the door,” Jungkook cuts you off, giving you a small smile and adding. “These bags are starting to get heavy.”
You roll your eyes as you do as asked, placing your bag on the floor before unlocking your front door and letting Jungkook in. He waits for you to come in before he follows you to the kitchen.
“You can just place them here,” you say before turning to look at him.
He’s all smiles again and you’re not sure why you’re so irked by the whole thing. You should be thanking him, but it’s more about what he’s slowly started to make you realise. Zac doesn’t have a man in his life and Jungkook creeping in even in these small ways has made you see how much that might be affecting him. Jungkook hasn’t done much, he’s played football out front with your son, he’s smiled and told him jokes in passing, he’s asked him a few simple questions about his life. And yet your son has lit up with every interaction.
It's ever since the incident the other day when Zac went running to him that got you thinking. You thought you were embarrassed because it looked like you couldn’t control your child, but since you’ve realised that it’s more because you’d started to get used to Jungkook in the same small ways as Zac and seeing him with a woman, presumably his girlfriend, made you realise that Jungkook probably doesn’t feel the same way. You’re just his neighbour and Zac’s just a cute kid. It’s not like you’re dating, or he owes you anything, but having had no help outside your family and Rosie since Zac was born has made even the small gestures massive.
You thought you were enough for Zac. You knew that you were possibly stopping him from experiencing something by staying single or not letting any of the men you’d dated briefly into Zac’s life, but you didn’t think it would matter. And yet so little from Jungkook has shown you how much it can mean.
You don’t mean to be rude or short with him, but these simple acts of kindness are starting to feel like an agenda. Like he’s out to prove that you’re not everything Zac needs.
You can make your son happy on your own. You can play ball with him and have fun and ask him questions about what he likes. You can carry bags into your house on your own; you’ve cooked and cleaned and worked and kept yours and Zac’s lives together longer than Jungkook’s been around. And yet Zac has never run to you the way he ran to Jungkook the other day.
“Zac not here today?”
“His Nan is looking after him.”
You can sense him looking down at you as you start to unpack your shopping. “That must be nice for them both.”
“Yep,” you say popping the p. “Certainly is.”
The silence elongates, tension rising in the gap. You can sense Jungkook watching you even though you don’t look at him as you start to unpack your food. You hear his feet shuffle on the lino floor and can see him leaning against the door frame out of the corner of your eye.
You should break it, should say something and stop being so childish, but you find you can’t, the longer it goes on the more it builds in your head. It’s as if every male that’s been in your life who hasn’t been interested in meeting Zac, everyone that you didn’t feel comfortable meeting Zac, every insecurity you had about stopping Zac from having the chance of a male figure in his life, has built up into Jungkook.
Still, you don’t ask him to leave, don’t say anything, just silently unpack as Jungkook watches you.
“Is everything alright?” It’s Jungkook that finally speaks.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You just seem a little upset is all.”
“I’m fine.”
“Ok. Let me clarify, you seem a little upset with me,” he pauses, when you don’t reply he carries on. “Have I done something to annoy you?”
“Nothing,” you say finally looking at him.
“Just tell me Y/N,” he looks a little pissed himself now and you realise how unfair you’re being. You can think all these things and build it up in your head and realise how stupid you’re being, but to take it out on Jungkook and then not explain why; that’s not fair.
“I just don’t appreciate you coming in and treating me like I can’t lift some shopping bags on my own is all.”
“I never said you couldn’t do it alone. I offered you help.”
“Yeah, ok, it’s fine. I’m overreacting,” you say in a tone to imply the opposite.
“No, come on. That’s not everything, what is it?”
You pause, wondering how much to tell him. “I’ve been looking after myself and Zac far longer than I’ve known you.”
“I know that.”
“So you can stop coming into our lives and being Mr Perfect,” you wave your hands at his whole person at the words.
He laughs, shaking his head. “Mr Perfect?”
“Carrying my shopping in and playing with Zac and acting like you have your whole life together and we don’t.”
“I really don’t know how you got that impression. My life isn’t together. And I enjoy playing with Zac and being around you, but if you’re uncomfortable with that then I can stop.”
You sigh, mentally slap yourself as you twist and pull a chair out. Plonking yourself down you run a hand down your face. When you make eye contact with Jungkook again his face still holds annoyance, but he looks a little softer now.
“Sorry,” you start, body slumping with the all the fight leaving you. “I’m being ridiculous. You don’t make me uncomfortable playing with Zac, I guess I just realised how much he’s grown to like you and yet I hardly know you.” You pause then add with a small smile. “Though you really do look like you have your whole life together.”
Your comment seems to be enough to break the tension. Jungkook chuckles again, this time looking more genuine. He takes the couple of steps to close the distance between you and pulls a chair out so he can sit.
“Well, the first thing I can tell you is I really do not have my life together,” he doesn’t speak as loudly now you’re sat with no background clattering and the wide smile he shoots you has you looking down at your lap to hide your smile. “And you know, maybe we should get to know each other better. We’re neighbours for one, but I honestly do love Zac and if it would make you feel more comfortable then I can do a whole DBS check.”
You look at him, smile wider on your face. He seems to relax at the look, less tense now you’re no longer being annoyed with him.
“You don’t have to do a DBS check,” you assure him. “I guess it’s just been a really long day and my insecurities got the better of me. Sorry.”
“Really?”
“What? Been a long day or are you struggling to believe I have insecurities?”
His eyebrow lifts and you swear his cheeks tint pink. “Well, both I guess.”
“I arrived at work to a snotty email from someone telling me how to do my job and then I didn’t have time to buy lunch so had to have one of the crappy cafeteria sandwiches. To top it all off I had to go food shopping, arguably one of the worst chores.”
Jungkook smiles, nods and waits. You’d kind of hoped you’d be able to sweep the whole insecurities bit under the rug. Guess Jungkook is taking the whole getting to know each other seriously.
“As for insecurities,” you begin, words elongated as you grow more awkward. “I mean doesn’t everyone have them? But, uh, yeah. I mean Zac’s dad has never been in his life and I’ve never properly dated anyone since having him, or at least never thought anyone was good enough to introduce him to. And I’ve always wondered if I’m somehow stopping him from having a second parent.”
Jungkook cocks his head to the side. A small movement as if he’s deep in thought at your comment. Before he can say anything though you let out a small laugh and try to move on.
“Anyway, at least I have lots of food in the house now.”
“Zac’s not missing out on anything.”
The smile dies on your lips. The words are so deadly seriously. Like he means every word. You feel yourself heating even though he’s probably just saying it because he thinks it’s what you want to hear.
“You’re an amazing mum, Y/N. Zac isn’t missing out on anything by just having one parent.”
“Thanks,” you continue to flush. “You really don’t have to say that, but thanks anyway.”
“I don’t have to say it. But I mean it.”
“Well, ok, thanks. Moving on,” you say. “Can I get you something to drink to fully apologise?”
“I wouldn’t say no to a tea.”
You nod, getting up to turn the kettle on. You’ve got an hour of your mum looking after Zac before you’ve got to pick him up. Time you were hoping to spend on tasks you actually need to get done around the house. You can’t retract your offer though and as you settle into easy conversation you find you don’t want to.
An hour passes easily with your neighbour. Laughing and drinking your teas you find you have more in common than you’d have guessed. He’s a similar age to you, took the house on next door because it was within budget, big and something he could easily do up. You normally find that people around your age feel so different in age, are at different stage in their lives as you have so much responsibility in looking after Zac and they’ve just got themselves. But Jungkook feels different. It’s still just him and you can tell by some of the things he says that he’s considering things in his life you couldn’t, but he’s bought a house, has committed to doing it up, has a steady job he wants to progress in. He’s settled. It’s small things but you find your respect towards him grows as well as the amount you like him.
An hour later, you leave him with a wave as you head to your car and he takes the short walk back to his house.
Tumblr media
“Oh, who’s that?”
You fight the urge to look as soon as the words leave Rosie’s mouth. You still don’t want to appear too keen around her. Though you and Jungkook have grown closer, there’s still nothing between you and you still don’t want her getting the wrong impression.
“Who’s who?” You ask, playing oblivious.
She waves you over, doesn’t even turn to look at you. She’s in much the same position as when you first spied Jungkook. Body leaning over the back of the sofa, face almost pressed against the glass of your front window. If anyone were to look at your house, her face would be front and centre and while you imagine you’d die at being caught watching your neighbours so plainly, you imagine Rosie wouldn’t care, she’d probably wave at them.
“Just come look. Some girl is going to Jungkook’s.”
“Oh right, that’s probably his girlfriend,” you say flatly, unbothered, though you still make your way over to where she’s sat to take a look yourself.
“He has a girlfriend?”
The question goes straight through you as you watch the girl in question walking up his drive. Ok, maybe it’s not his girlfriend because this girl has different coloured hair, her skin is slightly darker, she’s shorter, just as beautiful as the other girl you saw, but she is not the same person.
“Of course he has the hottest girlfriend.”
The words pang even though you shouldn’t care, you shouldn’t even be looking out the window at her, yet you find yourself leaning forward to get a better angle to try and see Jungkook’s front door. Is he there? How’s he going to greet her?
“That’s not his girlfriend,” you reply.
“What? He’s cheating on her?” Rosie’s interest peaks, if possible.
“No. I mean, I don’t know,” you try to explain, Rosie looking at you with a frown. “I don’t know if he has a girlfriend. Someone came to his house the other week and I just assumed, but that’s not her.”
Rosie hums, focus going back outside. “Well, that makes sense.”
“It does?”
“A man that hot does not just settle down. He’s a player.”
“Right,” you say flatly, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.
“And I mean, with a body like that, why wouldn’t he?”
“Careful not to get your drool on my window,” you say as you push yourself to stand, no longer interested in watching whatever’s happening out front.
You go back to whatever you were doing before, trying to get the image of the girl out of your mind. You shouldn’t care. But it only seems to add to everything in your mind, becomes another reason in your mind to not get too close to the man.
Tumblr media
“Who the hell talked me into this?” You mutter to yourself as you apply the last bit of lip gloss.
Stepping back, looking at yourself in the mirror, you have to admit you scrub up nice. When you make a bit of an effort you don’t look half bad.
You’ve not been on a proper date in a couple of months. Life has been busy and it’s not been top of your list of things to do, but when someone at work said they knew someone they thought you’d get on with you reluctantly said you’d meet them. Maybe not reluctant, you’re excited to date, to have a night out with someone that isn’t Rosie, to enjoy yourself. There’s just still niggles in your mind about the whole thing.
You’ve still got half an hour before you need to leave. Your taxi booked, completely dressed and ready to go, Zac in bed, all you need now is Rosie to turn up to baby sit for a few hours.
You’ve only managed to take a single breath to try and calm yourself and have a couple of sips of the glass of wine you decided to pour yourself when your phone rings. Rosie’s name pops up on your screen and you smile as you answer it.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to be late.”
“Uh, worse, possibly.”
You sit up straight, move your glass of wine so you don’t accidentally knock it. “What do you mean possibly?”
“Ok, definitely,” Rosie sounds nervous, and you’re not surprised given the desire to kill her right about now. “But, honestly, it’s unavoidable. My car’s died and I thought I could get a taxi but the quote I got was for £50 one way and I’m not saying you’re not worth it, but, on top of it all my mum called and she’s not feeling great and I just thought I’d see if you really need me or if someone else could possibly step in, just for tonight?”
You resist the urge to wipe a hand down your face or pull at your hair; you’d just spent ages so you could look like this. But it sounds like it doesn’t even matter, the date obviously wasn’t supposed to happen. You check the clock, it’s still twenty minutes until your taxi should arrive, still forty minutes until your date.
“I’ll cancel, it’s fine, go be with your mum.”
“What? No, don’t cancel.”
“What am I supposed to do instead?”
“Can’t your mum look after Zac instead?”
“She has book club tonight.”
“Your brother?” She says, her tone already implying she doesn’t hold much hope there.
“Away on business.”
“What about someone from work?”
“Rosie. Honestly, it’s fine.”
“Jungkook,” the name throws you so off you don’t respond immediately. “What about Jungkook?”
“I can’t ask my neighbour to look after my son.”
“Why? They seem to get on great and Zac will be asleep the whole time anyway.”
“He’s probably busy.”
“But you don’t know. You should go ask before you rule him out.”
You chew at the inside of your cheek, torn. You really don’t want to ask Jungkook, but Rosie makes a good point. She seems to cotton onto the weakness and pushes.
“Please, Y/N. I feel so guilty that you might have to cancel this date because of me. I’d ask Jungkook myself, but I don’t have his number. I could find him on Facebook though, just have to hope he sees the message in time but I’m –”
“Ok,” you blurt to stop her.
“Ok? You want me to message him?”
“No,” you sigh, not believing what you’re about to say. “I’ll go round and see if he’s free.”
You can almost see the beaming smile that Rosie is surely sporting. She doesn’t let you hang around on the phone for much longer now you’ve made the decision she wanted. A quick comment to let her know how it goes and a goodbye and she’s gone.
Your eyes flick to the clock as if it’s going to hold some sort of information that’ll help you out. It doesn’t. Just tells you what you already know; you have less than fifteen minutes till your taxi arrives.
Nerves at an all time high you decide the whole thing will only take five minutes either way so Zac is ok in bed. Leaving the door open, you make the short trip from your house to Jungkook’s.
Are you really doing this?
You can hear the noise of the doorbell going around the house. It seems you are doing it.
Sweat builds on your palms. Heat seems to leave your body while gathering in your face. Your throat feels so tight that you wonder if you’ll be able to get any words out if Jungkook answers. Seconds feel like minutes and then when you hear his footsteps approaching they seem to thunder.
The door swings open. You watch in silence as his face goes from curious, to eyes wide in recognition, to a steady sweep of your body. His eyes are still wide when they meet yours but there’s something else in them now as well as a slight flush to his cheeks.
You’re too nervous to take much notice.
“Hey,” you start, but begin talking too fast for Jungkook to say anything. “So, I know this is asking a lot and I want to say straight away that if you’re busy, or if you just don’t want to then please don’t feel like you have to say yes. But I have a date tonight, hence the outfit, and my childcare has cancelled on me and I was wondering, if you’re free, if you could maybe look after Zac? All you’d have to do it is just sit downstairs and listen out for if he wakes up. Again, it’s fine if you don’t want to.”
His cheeks are still pink but there’s a smile on his face now. You honestly have no idea what he’s going to say.
“Y/N, I honestly don’t mind looking after Zac while you go on your date.”
The shock, the relief, the surprise; whatever he see’s pass your face makes a low chuckle leave his lips.
“Do I need to bring anything with me?”
“Uh, no. Not unless there’s something you need?”
His smile is gentle and kind as he looks at you. “Let me just grab my keys so I can lock up.”
You wait the few seconds it takes for him to grab his keys and then watch as he locks his door. You still feel weird as you wait for him, still nervous just in a different way now.
It’s silent as you walk side by side back to your house. You feel unable to look at Jungkook, though you can feel him glancing at you.
“You look nice by the way.”
“Oh, thanks,” your nerves seem to give Jungkook confidence.
“Where’s your date?”
“Just at The Botanist.”
“That’ll be nice. Is it a first date or ..?”
“Yep, first date,” you say as you enter your house. “So, there’s drinks in the fridge and help yourself to any food you find.”
“You might regret saying that,” Jungkook jokes but you’re struggling to find much funny with your emotions all over the place at the moment.
“And I’ll give you my number if anything goes wrong. Like I said he shouldn’t wake up but if he does you can give him some hot milk or read him a book.”
“We’ll be fine, Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice is calm as he leans against the wall and watches you shuffle around the room. “If Zac wakes up, I’m sure I’ll cope. I’m sure I’ll be able to find anything I need and work the TV. My house is literally meters away and like you said I can just call you if I need.”
You still feel almost shaky. You trust Jungkook but it’s one thing to leave him playing with your son for ten minutes out front and wholly different to leave him home alone for a few hours. Still, you trust him and know he’ll be fine.
“Just go and enjoy your date,” Jungkook continues. “Are you nervous?”
“I – yeah,” you admit. “It’s my first date in a while.”
“Well, you really do look great. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Thanks, Jungkook,” you say softly, meaning it for so many different reasons.
“It’s fine. Now, go on, get out of here.”
You do one last sweep of the room, slip your shoes on at the door and the linger for a second. Jungkook’s already made himself at home on the sofa, smile still on his face as he watches you. Your hand pauses on the door. It still feels weird to be leaving. But you give Jungkook a nod and head out the door.
Tumblr media
Your key slips on the lock. You sway gently side to side. Closing your eyes, you take a long, slow breath. When you open your eyes, the world is still spinning.
You try the key again. Fingers fumble, it takes a second, but you manage to get the key where you need it. You turn the key, but it doesn’t go as far as you expect. Your hand goes to the handle, you pull down and tumble forward into your house.
Giggling you pull your key out of the door. Why did you think the door was locked? Of course it wasn’t locked.
You bite your lip as you right yourself and try not to slam the door closed. You need to be quiet, Zac’s asleep upstairs and you’d hate to be the reason for waking him up.
You make the mistake of trying to balance on one foot as you take your shoe off. It doesn’t last much longer than a second, you sway so hard that you have to throw your arm out to grab the wall so you don’t wipe out on the floor. You keep hold of the wall as you safely remove your shoes this time.
Shoving your bag on the table by your door you close your eyes for a second, take another breath and then will yourself to go get a glass of water before bed.
It takes you far longer than it should to realise you’re being watched. Are stumbling through your living room to your kitchen when you spot him and you jump in the air.
“Fuck,” you curse, clutching a hand to your heart. “Jungkook. What the hell?”
“Have you had a nice night?”
You huff, a noise that sounds half like a no and half like a yes. “It was ok.”
Jungkook laughs and moves on the sofa so he’s sat up straighter. “That sounds like a rave review.”
You close your eyes and throw your head back. Water forgotten you move towards Jungkook instead, plopping down on the sofa next to him. Your eyes feel heavy but you feel awake enough to talk to Jungkook for a while.
“It was good.”
“But?” Jungkook turns towards you as you lean your head back on the cushions.
“Just that it was just good.”
Jungkook hums and you turn your head on your neck to look at him. He’s closer than you thought but it doesn’t make you pull away from him, however much that wide smile makes your heart stutter.
“You must know what I mean.”
His head cocks to the side. “And why would that be?”
“Because you’re always going off on dates,” the alcohol is loosening your lips, you’d never say anything of this if you hadn’t drunk.
“How much have you had to drink?” He laughs.
“I don’t know,” you shrug. “It was two for one.”
“So that’s what made it a good night?”
You giggle, the noise escaping you with little to no warning. “No, the guy was nice too.”
“Was that opinion formed before or after the alcohol was consumed?”
This time you reach round and slap his arm as you laugh. It pushes you closer to him, the knee you have folded on the sofa pushing into his leg. Your hand lingers on his arm and he doesn’t push you away. You feel the heat coming off him and realise what you’re doing. You pull away and the heat transfers from your hand to your face.
“God, sorry, maybe I’m more drunk than I thought.”
You pull away, twist so you’re facing forward again. Now you think about it your head is really spinning. Looking after Zac tomorrow is going to be fun.
“Want me to get you some water?” Jungkook’s asking the question even as he stands to do just that.
You watch him walk away from you and disappear into the kitchen. He looks so at home.
You close your eyes again and rest your head against the back of the sofa. Water sounds good, maybe it’ll clear your head a little, because now you think about it, being drunk and loose lipped around Jungkook probably isn’t the best decision.
“Here you go.”
A pint of water is in front of you when you open your eyes. You sit up straighter, hold your hand out to take the glass and then down nearly half of it before taking sips from it instead. Jungkook is still stood in front of you, a small smile on his lips as he looks down at you.
“Better?” You nod at the question and Jungkook’s lip curls at the edge. “You ok to look after Zac like this?”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Ok,” he says with a small laugh, as if he doesn’t quite believe you. “I’ll leave you and Zac alone then.”
He only moves a little, is only standing up straighter, but the movement coupled with the words is enough for you to panic and reach out and grab his hand. Or more grab his wrist. And because he doesn’t move you can slip your fingers lower and land on their intended target.
“Wait. Don’t go.”
His smile has slipped now, his face flat as he stares down at you. He’s not gripping your hand back. You suddenly feel a lot more sober, feel like you’ve made a mistake.
“You’ve not told me how your night was yet,” you say in a much softer tone, your hand slipping out of his.
“I haven’t heard anything from Zac. I even went to look in his room to make sure he was actually there. He’s been fast asleep while I’ve watched trash TV all night.”
You nod, feel like you’re turning into a nodding dog at this point. But you don’t know what else to say. You’ve just asked him to stay and that short, closed sentence is clearly him telling you he’s heading home.
“Well, thanks so much for looking after him.”
“It was no trouble.”
You look up at him, wait for him to move, to leave you sat here alone. But he still doesn’t. It gives you enough confidence to keep talking, or maybe the silence is just eating too much into you that you feel a need to fill it.
“Do you want me to pay you?”
His eyebrows shoot up his head and you giggle, realising what he must be thinking and go on to clarify.
“I mean for babysitting.”
“Oh, no. I was only going to be sat next door doing the same thing anyway.”
“Right,” you swallow, mind whirling. “Well, I still feel a need to pay you back some way.”
“You really don’t need to do anything.”
“But you’ve done so much for me and Zac since moving in.”
“I’ve told you before I like playing with Zac.”
“And the mowing our grass?”
“It only makes sense when I’m already doing mine.”
“What if I want to pay you back?”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“Nothing?”
He pauses, his eyes dark as he looks down at you. The air seems to thicken and though you don’t know how, you know you’ve got him.
His eyes follow as you push yourself to stand up. He doesn’t move to give you space as you come toe to toe with him. His eyes flick around your face as yours remain steady on his. You don’t touch him straight away, but you get close enough that all you’d need to do is lean forward and you’d be against him.
The silence feels loud now, both of you holding your ground, the anticipation rising.
“Are you sure you want this?” He swallows his eyes flicking to your lips.
Subconsciously you sweep your tongue along your bottom lip and are rewarded with Jungkook unable to take his eyes off the movement.
If you were completely sober maybe you wouldn’t be so brash. If you hadn’t just been on a rubbish date, thinking about how much better it could be if only the person sat opposite you was the man currently stood in front of you, maybe you wouldn’t be this bold. If Jungkook hadn’t been so kind, so thoughtful, so good looking, maybe you wouldn’t be doing what you’re about to do, maybe you’d be thinking twice about what a mistake it could turn out to be.
You close the gap, move slowly to let Jungkook back away if he wants. But he doesn’t. When you’re close enough, he places his hands on your hips and pulls you into him.
He tastes salty, like crisps. His lips mould to yours the way your body moulds against his. Your back arches up into him, his hand goes to the small of your back and his tongue slips into your mouth.
“Are you sure about this?” Jungkook whispers again.
You don’t have time to answer, now you’ve kissed him, you want all of him. You twist both of you so that when you push yourself into him and he has to take a step back, his knees hit the sofa. His eyes are wide, full of surprise as he lowers himself backwards. You don’t let yourself be shocked, this is so unlike you, but honestly you don’t care or overthink it.
Placing a knee either side of Jungkook you straddle him, place your lips back on his as you grind down into him. His hands fall to your hips again, squeeze the flesh there every time you drag yourself over his length. You can feel him, all of him, hard and long, pushing up against his joggers and right into you.
You need him. Now.
All rational goes out the window as you push yourself up enough to try and push his trousers down. Before you can get very far, Jungkook’s hands are encompassing your wrists, stopping you. He doesn’t seem angry when you look at him, there’s only an amused smile on his lips.
“What’s the rush?”
“I –” you pause, it’s enough time for you to come back to reality and realise how desperate you must look right now. You plop yourself backwards, sit on Jungkook’s knees as his hands slip from your wrists to encompass your hands. “I don’t know. Sorry.”
He pulls your forward enough to kiss your lips. You can feel the smile is still there.
“Let me at least go get a condom,” he mumbles.
You let out an embarrassed huff of air, your face scrunching in mortification while Jungkook just chuckles. He moves his hands to your hips, pushes you up and then gently gets you to lay on the sofa while he stands. You look up at him, embarrassed, but still don’t want him to leave.
“I’ll only be a minute,” he says before disappearing from view.
You’re left in the silence of your own embarrassment. Lay on the sofa you keep replaying the last ten minutes over in your head. Sure, it was great, kissing Jungkook has definitely exceeded expectations so far. But what must he think of you? Pouncing on him after a failed date.
You place your hands over your face and let out a small groan, missing the noise of the front door quietly closing.
“Don’t tell me you carried on without me?”
You peel your hands off your face, look up surprised to see Jungkook back. Part of you honestly thought that was an excuse to up and run. But there he is, beaming down at you, small foil packet in hand.
“You still wanna?” His voice drifts off, unsure.
You’re still in shock. But a quick glance down shows that he isn’t lying. His trousers are still straining at the groin.
You look back at his face, suddenly feeling very hot. You nod. Jungkook smiles.
“Good,” he mutters before taking his top off. “Because you still owe me.”
You watch as he takes his trousers off, leaving him only in his boxers. And then he kneels before you. Hand on either knee, he twists you so that your feet hit the floor and you’re sat in front of him. As he toys with the hem of your dress, you dutifully lift your arms to let him know he can take it off.
His eyes are near black, focused purely on your chest and the light lace that is covering you, when your dress is on the floor.
“Were you hoping to go home with him?” His voice is as dark as his voice, a husky quality to it that has you clenching around nothing.
“No,” you say honestly, the word enough to have Jungkook drag his eyes up to yours. “I wore it to feel good.”
He nods. His eyes flicking back down to admire your body. You feel good, slightly self-conscious but you must admit that it feels nice to have Jungkook look at you with that much lust on his face.
His hands reach out, lightly run down your sides at the same rate as his eyes. He toys with your lacy pants for a second, eyes flicking up to yours before he starts to pull them down. You lift yourself up a little to help him and then they’re joining your dress on the floor.
Your breaths come out faster. Your head leaning back into your sofa as Jungkook places his hands on your knees and pushes them apart.
How is this happening?
You can’t believe this is happening.
You can’t pull your eyes away from the sight of Jungkook’s head moving towards you. You swear you’ve had a wet dream about it. And now it’s happening.
His tongue is just as delicate as his fingers as he swipes it through your folds. His hands hold firm on your knees as you try to clamp them together around his head. You can feel his smile as his lips go to your clit, his tongue drawing patterns of the bundles of nerves.
When he deems it safe to, one of his hands moves from your knee and with his lips still on your clit, he begins to push into your entrance.
Your hand flies to his head, pushing him further into you while fisting the strands of hair on his head. You moan at the ceiling and push your hips further into Jungkook.
It feels amazing. He feels amazing.
When he pushes another finger into you the coil in your stomach only grows tighter. You moan out again and then realise that the two of you aren’t alone in this house.
“We’ve got to be quiet. Zac’s upstairs,” your voice is breathy, almost husky.
There’s a mumbled noise against your skin, hopefully in recognition of what you’ve said. And despite your words it’s you that’s the noisiest. You can’t help it, however hard you try Jungkook’s lips around your clit and his fingers inside you make it impossible.
You can feel his lips turn into a smile when you let out a particularly loud noise. You wouldn’t care if it wasn’t for the fact that Jungkook pulls away from you. His fingers still in you, his face looking up at you with a certain smugness.
“How we going to get you to be quiet then?”
As if to prove his point you moan out when his fingers push deeply into you. He chuckles, you frown at him. Hands reaching up, you have to push yourself off the sofa a little to wrap them around his neck to pull him up off the floor and into you.
“Like this,” you say before attaching your lips to his.
This time when you moan out it’s swallowed by Jungkook’s mouth.
He expertly works you both sideways, fingers still in you as he manoeuvres you to lay down on the sofa with him hovering over you.
His hand doesn’t become enough. There’s pleasure there still, but you want more, you want all of him. He didn’t go all the way back to his for a condom for nothing.
Placing a hand on his shoulder you get him to pull away from you. “Where’s the condom?”
It takes a second for him to understand, but then he’s doing a scramble to find it. He finds it between the layers of your dress. As you tear it open, he pushes his boxers down. You try not to be intimidated by his size, because as he rolls down himself that’s all you can think.
He is fucking massive.
Jungkook looks smug when you look back at him, as if he’s seen where you were looking and read what you were thinking. You roll your eyes as you pull him back down to kiss you.
“Just shove it in already,” you mumble against his lips, earning a chuckle from him.
He reaches between your bodies, runs his tip through your folds and pushes just the tip inside you. You moan and arch up into him. It already feels like a lot.
“Sure you can handle it?” He jokes, confirming he knew what you were thinking earlier.
You think he probably has a point. But the desire to prove him wrong, or at least wipe the smug smile off his face, is larger. Wrapping your legs around him, you push him down deeper into you as you push your hips up. He must only move a couple of inches, but it’s enough. This time it’s him, not you, that lets a moan out and you don’t have to encourage him to sink the rest of the way in.
There’s a small pause in movement. Your breaths the only noise in the room. You realise you still have your bra on when you feel Jungkook’s chest move along yours. But then he’s placing his lips against yours and delicately kissing you. Softly and slowly, he begins to move.
It’s not the rough, heavy sex you’d imagined. He doesn’t toss you around, or man handle you. He’s slow as he pulls out and though there’s power behind each thrust in, it’s still not rough. A thought flicks through your mind, it’s more like making love than having sex. The thought there one second and then gone when Jungkook thrusts back into you.
It feels good. His lips still on yours, his thrusts building up that feeling inside you, the small moans he keeps letting out only driving you closer to oblivion.
It doesn’t take long. It’s no surprise. Even if his body didn’t look the way it did, his cock is big enough that he wouldn’t need to have much skill to make anyone feel good. But, as if to make it completely unfair, he knows what he’s doing, knows exactly how fast to go, exactly how deep to push into you, knows where to touch and where to kiss to drive you completely insane.
When you come, you come hard. You become a mess in his arms. He swallows every one of your moans as he thrusts a couple more times and then you feel him twitching in you, his own moans rumbling through his chest.
Still inside you, he rolls you so you can lay side by side. You should go to the loo, should put some clothes on or something. But when Jungkook reaches up to pull a blanket off the back of the sofa over the top of you, you find it hard to even keep your eyes open.
Tumblr media
You were hoping Jungkook would be gone before Zac woke up, but when you hear the small feet thundering down the stairs all you can think is how happy you are you both have clothes on.
Zac jumps off the last three steps, a habit you tried to stop early but probably only encouraged him. He runs nearly as far as the kitchen before he realises there’s someone other than you sat on the sofa. He’s too surprised to say anything straight away, his eyes wide as they stare straight at Jungkook.
“Have you brushed your teeth?” You draw his eyes to you. He pauses then with a guilty look nods. “Have you?” You get another less delayed nod. “Come here then.”
He doesn’t move, he knows he’s been caught out. You raise an eyebrow at him and he tries his hardest to hide his smile but fails.
“Go and clean your teeth and I’ll make you breakfast. What do you want?”
His eyes flick to Jungkook before settling back on you. “Why’s Jungkook here?”
Your heart stops before starting at a more rapid pace. “He just slept here last night.”
“You had a sleepover?” He looks hurt as if you purposefully left him out.
“No, well, yes, but it was nothing Zac.” You can feel the way Jungkook tenses next to you, and you know if you were to look at him, he’d be stifling a laugh. “Just go brush your teeth.”
He pauses a second longer, eyes continue to flicking between you but one look at your stern face has him moving back to the stairs.
“And what do you want for breakfast?” You shout after him.
“A ham sandwich, crisps and sausage roll.”
“That’s lunch,” you shout but don’t get a response.
Zac fully out of view now, Jungkook lets out his laugh. When you turn to point your frown at him, you’re met with his face a lot closer than you’d thought. Without much thought he leans in and places his lips against yours. When you stiffen and try to look over your shoulder to double check you really are alone, Jungkook’s hand goes to your head to stop you.
“It’s fine,” he whispers before pressing one last kiss on your lips and drawing away.
You remain stiff even as Jungkook removes himself to a safe distance. It’s just that you’re not used to this. Sure, the morning after stuff is awkward but it’s more that Jungkook looks so relaxed in what should be an incredibly awkward situation.
“You going to go make that ham sandwich?” He smiles at you.
“You going to head off?” You counter.
He raises an eyebrow. “Do I not also get breakfast?”
“Do you want breakfast.”
“Uh, yeah?” He chuckles as if it’s obvious.
You could ask him to leave you guess, but after a moments pause you figure there’s really no reason. Your main worry was Zac seeing him here, but that’s happened now anyway. There really isn’t any reason to force him to leave.
Standing up, you head to the kitchen, Jungkook following in your wake.
“Scrambled eggs on toast?” You ask, already getting the ingredients out, heading to the counter with them.
Jungkook comes up behind you when you’re cracking one of the eggs. His body presses into your back and he leans round to place his head on your shoulder so he can watch what you’re doing. When you twist to ask what he’s doing he only sees it as an opportunity to kiss you.
“Jungkook?” You ask, pulling away.
“What?” He chuckles, staying where he is.
“Zac could walk in any second.”
“I’ll hear him coming down the stairs, it’s fine.”
You’re not as sure and while it’s one thing for Zac to see Jungkook here early, it’s wholly different for him to see him all over you like this. Jungkook seems to get the idea and with a smile and another quick kiss he peels himself off you.
You would never have thought Jungkook the clingy type. But then you wouldn’t have guessed he’d have been so soft with you last night too, so maybe you just have to realise all your assumptions about the man are probably wrong.
Feeling flustered you focus back on your eggs. And when you hear Zac’s feet running down the stairs you realise how unprepared you are for this breakfast.
“Have you washed your hands?” You say over your shoulder.
“What’s Jungkook doing here?”
“I’ve already told you that. Have you washed your hands?”
One glance over your shoulder tells you enough. They’re the words you say before every meal and every time you get the same guilty look. Before you can tell him to go and wash them though, Jungkook’s speaking.
“I haven’t done mine either. Maybe you could show me where the sink is?”
You catch the small nod Zac does before he’s zooming off. Eyes still on the door you miss the fact that Jungkook walks over to you before following Zac and can only freeze when he presses a light kiss to your cheek.
“See, I’ve got this,” he says cockily before disappearing after Zac.
You remain frozen for a few more seconds before realising the eggs are catching and you still need to butter the toast.
Though you’ve managed the whole, looking after a toddler while also doing one hundred other things, it’s not wasted on you how much of a help Jungkook is. He occupies the time it takes for you to get breakfast ready and then helps Zac lay the table for you. He keeps up an easy conversation over the food. And then, when you start to clear up he easily takes Zac out of the way and entertains him for a bit before coming back to help you.
They’re small things, stuff you wouldn’t have even picked up on before Zac was around. But you can’t deny that his easy smiles, coupled with watching him wipe down the table really gets you going. You really are a mum.
Tumblr media
“Oh shit,” you moan, body creeping up the bed.
Jungkook only grunts in return, his hands tightening on your hips to stop you from moving away from him. With the way he’s slamming himself into you, it doesn’t help and you continue to move up the bed.
He slows to a stop, leaning down into you so his chest is against you, face above yours and cock fully in you. His hair is slightly damp from all the effort he’s put in. You’d feel slightly bad if it weren’t for the fact he’s been making you feel extremely good and that he looks incredibly hot with damp hair. He also doesn’t seem to be complaining about the fact you’ve just been laying on your back the entire time.
“Mum’s going to be round soon with Zac,” you manage to get the words out just before he presses his lips to yours.
Slipping his tongue into your mouth, he moves his hips in the same slow but deep rhythm. You try to grind your hips up into his, deepening how far he goes into you with every thrust.
“We’ve got time,” Jungkook mutters back, his lips moving from your mouth to press around your face. “I just need you a different way if I’m going to come any time soon.”
“Mhumm?” You moan, eyes closed, head tilted back to let Jungkook have access to your neck. “How’d you want me?”
He hums, teeth nibbling a little bit of skin as his hips push a final time into you. “On your hands and knees.”
He looks up at you, trying to gage your reaction but when you clench around him, he gets the idea. You hum a little when he pulls out and when he’s given you enough space you turn onto your front. Wait patiently, exactly how Jungkook wants you.
His hand runs down the arch of your back, stopping only to feel the globe of your ass. He lets out a satisfied hum before you feel his cock tapping you.
You arch back and up into him and you hear a little satisfied chuckle as his hand moves to your hip. He keeps you where you are as he runs his tip through your folds.
“I’m not going to last long when I get in you,” he warns.
“Neither.”
“Ok,” he breaths, stopping when he’s at your entrance.
His hands tighten on your hips and he lets out a low whine as he pushes into you. He feels so different from this angle, somehow bigger than he felt before. The first few thrusts are slow, you both are getting used to the feel of it. But when you fall onto your elbows, half exhaustion, half because your hands were starting to ache, he hits a particular spot in you that has you moaning into the sheets.
“Oh yeah?” Jungkook asks and you can only let out a gurgled noise in response.
It’s enough. His thrusts grow faster and every time they hit that spot. His balls slap against you, only adding more pleasure. The whole thing is enough to do as you both warned. You come first, hard and out of nowhere. And the feeling of you clamping down is enough to get Jungkook to follow close behind.
Collapsing on your front, Jungkook pulls out of you and gets rid of the condom before lying next to you.
“I should really sort myself out before mum gets here,” you say, though don’t move.
“We’ve got time.”
“Yeah, no offense, but you also need to be gone before she gets here.”
He chuckles, the noise causing a smile to appear on your lips. “I’ll jump the fence if I need to. Stop worrying.”
You roll onto your side and Jungkook flops his head so he can look at you.
“She’ll be able to smell that you’ve been here,” you say and Jungkook grimaces as if weirded out by the comment. “I know. But nothing gets past her.”
Jungkook rolls onto his side. “Well, I can stay and meet her if you want?”
You don’t know why the thought terrifies you so much, but it does. You don’t even know why Jungkook’s offering, but he seems so sincere about it, as if it’s a perfectly normal thing to offer. Surely, it’s too early to be thinking about meeting each other’s parents?
“I can just say you need help putting some shelves up.”
“She’ll make some comment about that being an innuendo,” you roll onto your back.
“Well come on then,” you feel the bed dip and move and when you look back over at Jungkook he’s already standing. “Let me at least help you clean up the evidence.”
There’s a wide smile on his face as he starts to pull on the clothes you all but threw on the floor earlier. He doesn’t look bothered by any of this and while you worried this was only about the sex for him, with all the little things he’s doing, he’s slowly convincing you that maybe it’s not.
“But you better hurry,” he teases when you continue to lay staring at him. “She’s going to be here any minute.”
He does a poor imitation of your voice and when you throw a pillow at him he only chuckles as he catches it. It hits you square in the face when he tosses it back. By the time you’re sat up and moving Jungkook is already out of the room and beginning to tackle the mess you’ve been putting off.
Tumblr media
You continue to sleep together whenever you can find the time without Zac being around. But when there isn’t any, Jungkook is still there.
He plays with Zac outside so you can have some peace while you prepare dinner. He washes the dishes up when he occasionally stays for food so you can go and get Zac ready for bed. He buys you bunches of flowers and little boxes of chocolates. He does things around the house, mows the lawn, stops the cupboard squeaking and makes it so the shower doesn’t leak water out of one side.
He seeps into your life in every way and though you’re cautious, you completely let him in.
You convince yourself it’s nothing serious, mainly because you never discuss what the two of you are. But it’s fun and you live in the moment, enjoy the sex as well as the help you’re getting around the house.
However, you look at it though, you know you’re doing what you said you wouldn’t. You’re letting Jungkook in. Not just into your life, but into Zac’s too. Somehow you can’t seem to feel bad about it.
Tumblr media
You don’t notice him until you round your car to check that Zac is strapped in. It’s barely 7am, not a time you’re used to seeing Jungkook but the movement at his door has you glancing up. You do a double take as you come to a stop by Zac’s door.
There’s a girl looking like she’s just stepped out of his house, she’s close enough to Jungkook to look like they’re about to embrace or make out or maybe both. He’s stood just in his pants looking down at her, you’re too far away and the girl is blocking your view to work out the expression on his face. Or maybe it’s the cool feel of embarrassment that stops you looking too hard.
Still, you can’t pull your eyes away from the scene. As the girl is talking and Jungkook is listening, neither notice you staring.
It’s not the same girl you’ve noticed at his before, no, this is someone you’ve never seen. You’re not sure if that makes it better or worse. What you do know, is how big an idiot you are. Because of course while you were growing to like him, while you were letting him further into your life, he only saw what you had as something else, a bit of fun, a convenience.
It’s your own fault for not talking to him about it. Your own fault for reading into it more than you should have. You’d known who Jungkook was, what he was like, the sort of man he was and yet you’d still been blinded by his words and smiles. You stupidly thought that you were different. One of those stupid girls that thought you’d be the one to change him.
And there he is, after a night with someone else and he doesn’t even care that he’s flaunting it on his front doorstep.
“Mummy, why aren’t you trapping me?”
Zac speaks loudly enough to not just draw your attention but your neighbours too. You catch Jungkook’s eyes dart towards you just before you twist to your son. You don’t correct his wording, you just want to be out of this situation, don’t want your embarrassment to be witnessed by anyone else.
You duck down to Zac’s level and pull the belt over him and his car chair. Satisfied he’s strapped in you stand. Your traitorous eyes can’t help but flick to your neighbour’s door, however hard your brain is screaming not to look.
The girl is a step further away from the door now, her head looking between you and Jungkook. Jungkook’s gaze is firmly on you. It looks like he’s about to open his mouth and shout something at you. That or take off in a run in your direction.
Springing into action, blood coursing through you, you leap into the drivers seat, buckle yourself in and take off in reverse.
You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you start down the road. Though you know nothing is going to happen there’s thoughts of Jungkook opening your door or banging on your window. None of that happens. When you flick your eyes in the rear-view mirror, he’s not even left his doorstep.
Your heart falls into the bottom of your stomach.
Tumblr media
“I know what I saw Rosie.”
“Well talk me through it one more time.”
You sigh, look down at the tea in your hands before flicking your eyes to your son. Zac is still playing with the little girl who approached him fifteen minutes ago and is happily getting bossed around in a game with her. It’s sweet to see the bundle of energy that is your son be so placid sometimes. It’s also great to be at one of your favourite coffee shops, kids play area and all with your best friend moments after the most embarrassing time of your life. Though you don’t want to relive every detail of what happened in the car before coming here, it’s kind of nice to hash it out with Rosie.
“There was a girl, all dressed up as if she’d had to put on the clothes she was out in last night, stood on Jungkook’s doorstep while he stood basically naked saying goodbye.”
Rosie hums, her head bobbing up and down in thought. “Yep. I’ve got to admit I’m struggling to see any good angles.”
“That’s because there are no good angles,” you whine.
“Well, I’m guessing the nearly naked bit was good.”
The glare you shoot at her has her sitting straighter in her chair, her hands almost raising in defence.
“Yep. Agreed. Definitely one of the worst bits. Ok.”
You sigh, eyes flicking once again to Zac.
“And what the hell am I supposed to tell Zac?” It’s the first time you’ve thought about it, because although this is your issues, it’s also going to affect Zac. “I can just ignore Jungkook, but Zac will still ask questions and while I’d dive away from him in public Zac won’t do the same.”
“Right,” Rosie says with the air of a woman with no children, therefore lacking all understanding of your predicament. “Well, my first thoughts in all of this, and please don’t kill me when I say this. But, why don’t you talk to Jungkook first?”
“Why would I do that?” You ask flatly.
“Because you clearly have no idea what you were looking at this morning.”
“What gave you that impression? I’ve very obviously stated just how much I saw.”
“Yes, and while I admit it didn’t look great, neither of us can fully explain it. The only person who can happens to live only a short trip from your house.”
“Not going to happen,” you say, taking a sip of your tea and looking away from her. It does nothing to convince her to change the topic.
“You’re both adults. Maybe what you thought you saw wasn’t exactly what it was,” when you continue to not look convinced, she sighs. “Fine, give him a piece of your mind, walk away from him and avoid him like the plague. But what if you’re building this up to be something it really isn’t?”
“I know Jungkook, and I know what that was.”
“From what you’ve told me about him, I really don’t believe it for a second.”
Your ice-cold glare does nothing, she just levels her gaze right back at you. In the end it’s you who give in first.
“I’m not going around to his only to have what I already know laid out so plainly for me. You don’t understand how mortifying it was this morning.”
Rosie’s eyes turn softer, a glint of pity seeping into them. When she speaks her tone is softer and her body starts to lean in towards you.
“I get it. But I also get the impression that Jungkook would never do that to you or Zac.”
The mention of your son’s name makes your heart pound. You look over at him, he looks so happy sat on the floor piling blocks high with the little girl. It makes your heart hurt to imagine him asking after Jungkook and you having to tell him that he can’t see him anymore. The laughs and giggles that always came out of him when Jungkook is around. The manly figure in his life gone like that. This is why you didn’t want to get close to him. This is why you didn’t want anything to happen. Because although you’re hurting right now, you know it’ll feel nothing in comparison to breaking it to your son.
“Will you just think about it at least?” Rosie asks, dragging your eyes back to her.
You sigh and then nod. “I’ll think about it.”
Tumblr media
You think about it all of two seconds and know you will never be knocking on Jungkook’s door, nor will you be hanging around outside long enough for him to catch you. No, you will be doing exactly as Rosie suggested and avoiding him like the plague.
This is why you never wanted to get involved with him. Because you knew what would happen in the end, you knew what type of man he was. And why you may have accepted that in the past, gone with the man for a bit of fun. Now, things have changed, it’s not just you that you have to think about.
You spend the time alone thinking it through. The more time you have, the more certain you are. Jungkook was a mistake. But now you know that you can move on as best you can. He doesn’t want you, that’s fine, you can accept that and do your best to pick up whatever pieces of Zac that break.
Surprisingly, for nearly a week, it works.
Unsurprisingly, when there’s an unexpected knock at your door Saturday evening when Zac is in bed, it’s Jungkook.
You know it’s going to be him before you open the door, or at least have a strong feeling it is. Your face is already set in a grimace, so luckily it’s not a delivery man or an unsuspecting stranger. You open the door enough for Jungkook to see you, but only enough that your body is blocking any view inside.
“Hey.”
You raise an eyebrow at the word. Has he really come here after a week and the first word he says is hey? You can almost see the cold sweat breaking out across his forehead, but to his credit Jungkook remains calm.
“So, I was thinking it’s been a while since we last saw each other and I was wondering how you are?”
“Are you shitting me right now?”
You have half a mind to slam the door in his face and as if reading that thought Jungkook sticks a hand out and props it on the door. He doesn’t push it open, he doesn’t apply any pressure, he just rests it there so he can stop you closing him out.
“Can I come in so we can talk about this?”
“What’s there to talk about?”
It’s Jungkook’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Given this reaction, there is clearly lots to talk about Y/N.”
“And if I don’t want to talk?”
He closes his eyes. You’re not sure if he’s praying or taking a second to calm himself down. Either way, when he opens them and looks at you, they seem darker, more intense, like he has more purpose now.
“Right, if you want to do it here, let’s do it here,” he says and doesn’t give you time to interrupt. “I know you saw me last week with Clare. I know what it looked like and I know what you thought. Maybe I’ve been utterly shit in not coming sooner but I wanted to give you space to figure things out on your own; I realise now that was a mistake.”
You’re so thrown by the last comment you don’t speak in the small pause. Should you be offended? Jungkook carries on, as if satisfied you’re listening to him.
“Clare is an ex of sorts, and she came over early, before I had chance to get dressed, and that’s what you saw. Nothing else. Nothing more.”
You don’t know how to feel. You don’t know whether to believe him. Because although he sounds like he’s telling the truth, he also sounds like he really wants you to believe him and for whatever reason you’re not sure why he’d cared so much about what you think.
“You always answer the door in your pants?”
It’s clearly not the words he was hoping for, but he still gives you an answer. “When I’ve just woken up, yes.”
“And she didn’t stay the night?”
The question, although spoken with a little less bite, a little less certainty, seems to be more what Jungkook was expecting. Though you’ve given him little reason to relax, his shoulders look less tense, his weight leans forwards so the door creaks open a touch. You try to hold your ground as your traitorous heart pounds in your chest.
“No one has stayed the night since I’ve been with you.”
Your eyes flick around his face trying to read the truth there. You can’t spot the lie, though you still don’t fully believe it.
“She didn’t even come inside,” he carries on. “In fact, she was at my door all of ten minutes before she left. If you hadn’t driven off, you would have seen that.”
“Ok.”
“Ok?” He frowns. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Yes. You’ve explained, so, ok.”
Jungkook remains, frown between his eyes, hand still on your door. And you stare right back at him, feet planted, door not swinging open.
“I don’t understand,” he admits, voice soft.
“Right, because you expected me to jump back into your arms?” The silence tells you the answer you already knew. This man’s ego is way too big. “I guess I just realised who you are and why we don’t work together. What happened between us was a mistake and I’m sorry if you’ve been pushing girls aside for whatever reason, but you don’t have to anymore.”
Jungkook continues to look confused. It only makes you drive the message home a little stronger.
“We were never going to work. You’re you and I’m me and while we had fun, that’s all it was ever going to be. I guess I just remembered who you are and why I can’t afford to have you around me and Zac.”
Jungkook’s hand slips from the door and the look of hurt on his face almost makes you regret the words. But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re not sure what he was coming here to say, that he wanted to carry on sleeping with you for a bit longer? That you were convenient living next door and he didn’t want to give that up just yet? Aren’t the words you just said what he would have been telling you weeks down the line when you and your son were no doubt in too deep?
No. It was better you told him how it was now. It was better you ripped off the plaster. It was better you ended this now before Jungkook broke your heart. Because although you’re hurting now, although you want to drag him inside and let his explanation be enough, you know that it’ll only be worse later.
Jungkook’s hand now free from your door you see your chance.
“I’ll still see you around though,” the words feel bitter as they leave your lips and your tone lacks any conviction. “I’m still happy to lend you sugar like any other neighbour.”
Jungkook doesn’t speak, his eyes focused on something in the near distance, he looks like he’s trying to solve a puzzle or an over complex maths equation.
You swallow as his eyes finally move to yours. The frown is still there but they look dark and not in the same way they did earlier. No, the look in them now makes your stomach coil. He looks like he’s figured something out. You can’t tell if that’s a good or a bad thing.
You don’t give yourself long enough to figure it out. You need to be out of this situation. You need Jungkook off your doorstep. You need to make sure he doesn’t say anything to change you’re easily swayed mind.
“I’ll see you around,” you squeak and then you slam the door closed in his face.
You lean into the door as your chest rises and falls. You did it, though you doubted yourself, you told him what you’d been thinking the last week, that although you didn’t really want him out of your life, it was better he was out of it.
You don’t hear his footsteps. You don’t see his shadow move away from your door. You remain leaning on your door for a minute after closing it but you’re unaware of Jungkook leaving either. Heart in your throat, you twist and walk away, hoping that’s the last you hear from the man but knowing it won’t be.
Tumblr media
It starts with flowers. A big bloom that gets delivered first thing in the morning. They get shoved in your hands and the woman is walking away before you can tell them they must have got the wrong address. Your names on the card though, and when you prize it open you know who they’re from even though it’s got no signature.
You never let me finish. Let me take you out for dinner?
You bite the inside of your cheek, send a glare at your neighbour’s brick wall.
You still put them in water. You still cut their stems and arrange them and then place the large vase on your countertop. It would be a waste to throw them away. But you don’t attempt to reply to the question on the card. That, you throw away.
It takes Jungkook a few hours to text you, chasing for an answer.
Jungkook: Did you get my flowers?
Y/N: They’re yours? I thought they must have come to the wrong house.
Jungkook: Is that why you put them in that pretty vase and up on display? What did you think about the note that came with it?
Y/N: It’s in the bin where it belongs.
Jungkook: Let me take you out for dinner.
Y/N: I’m busy.
Jungkook: I never even gave you a date or time.
Y/N: I struggle getting a babysitter for Zac as it is.
Jungkook: Then let me cook for you. He can sleep while we talk.
Y/N: I really am busy Jungkook.
Jungkook: Think about it. I just want to talk.
Sure, you think, I’ll think about it. The same length of time you thought about whether you’d go and talk to him before. All of two seconds.
No, you’re not going to have dinner with him. You don’t particularly want to talk to him ever again.
Maybe it’s childish given he’s your neighbour. What he did wasn’t awful, it’s more that you know if you give him even an inch then he’ll take a mile and you’ll just let him back in. You liked having him around, you liked the help, you liked being able to talk to someone your age, you liked someone looking after you. But it’s not just about you.
You’re bound to see him around and that doesn’t mean you won’t give him a neighbourly hello and nod. That will be it. No opening up about your life. No asking to babysit. No late night drinks. No kissing on the sofa. No anything more.
You can’t even think about it. You may be pretending to be hard and over it, but Jungkook had successfully wormed his way into your life and if it wasn’t for Zac, you’d more than happily curl up in your bed and mope for a few days.
You’ve successfully been played. And it feels shit.
“Mummy,” you look over at Zac. “You’ve been sat of that sofa forever.”
He never fails to put a smile on your face. And just like you were thinking before, he successfully gets you out of your slump. You could sulk all you want in private, but with Zac around you have to set an example.
Tumblr media
You don’t go to Jungkook’s for dinner, instead make some half-arsed excuse as to why you can’t go. He must know you’re still pushing him away and at least this time he lets you. You get a simple reply to your text rejecting his invitation. No offers to rearranged. No accusations or callouts for your excuse. No attempt to carry on the conversation. Just an understanding message.
You’re not sure why but you feel a little disappointed. Even though it’s what you were hoping for.
It doesn’t take long for the next attack to come. This time it’s not flowers or offers of dinners but is instead small acts of kindness. Your lawn mowed without having to ask. Your bins emptied and cleaned. Your car cleaned. All things Jungkook’s done in the past and if you didn’t know him you’d find slightly creepy, but instead find endearing.
You hate that you feel that way.
His texts don’t start immediately. But when they start, they come in steady streams. There’s no pressure in any of them and while you hardly reply to any of them, they’re still said in the same tone, sweet and light. They all say pretty much the same thing, that he wants to meet to talk. But you’re not ready and you don’t want to. No matter what he says it won’t change who he is and it won’t change the fact that you’ll like slip again and you can’t afford to be with someone like that.
You see him in passing, him leaving while you’re arriving home. Again, he never pressures you into talking but always smile and waves at you.
You start to feel a little awkward. You know what he’s doing, guilt tripping you into giving in; you just don’t understand why he’s doing it. Surely he should have given up by now, surely if you’re just someone to sleep with this isn’t worth it.
Tumblr media
You’re sat on your front garden watching Zac cycle around when you hear his front door open. You don’t look his way, but you tense with expectation. Zac hasn’t noticed Jungkook yet, he’s still happily going in the circle you’d allowed him to, from pavement pausing to checking the silent road for a car, crossing to the other side and going around. He’s babbling about something, shouting about being chased by a dinosaur as he whizzes around.
There are three footsteps before they go silent. And you prepare for whatever he’s about to say.
It’s been close to two weeks now and while he’s been doing small but thoughtful gestures, you have successfully put off talking to him. You’ve passed him in the street a couple of time, but every time have managed with a nod and a hello, the greeting you’d wished was normal for the two of you.
He doesn’t say anything this time though, just stands wherever it is he’s stopped. You fight the urge to look at him, foot tapping on the floor as you fight to keep your eyes on Zac.
Your restrain is only so strong. When you look over your shoulder he’s already staring right at you.
Your heart stutters. Your foot stops it’s tapping. He doesn’t look angry or sad, in fact there’s a small smile on his lips. His attire is much the same as you always see, an oversize shirt with sleeves that go to his elbow, letting you see his arm full of tattoos and skinny black jeans. He’s stood on his side of the drive; you can’t even accuse him of trespassing. The only thing you could possibly tell him is that he’s being creepy. But even that would be a lie.
“Hey,” his smile widens now you’re looking at him.
You don’t reply, can barely manage a smile. Every time before now you’ve been on your way in or out. You had an excuse for a quick escape. Now, sat on your front garden, you feel trapped.
“You alright?”
And yet, Jungkook still isn’t pushing you. However big a dick he’s been or might be, he’s never forced you to speak to him. Maybe you’re the one being a bigger dick. Maybe speaking to him won’t be as bad as you think. Maybe you’ll actually like whatever it is he wants to tell you.
Just as you open your mouth to reply, Zac beats you to it.
“Jungkook!”
You wince at the name screamed across the street. It’s not the volume that causes your reaction but the pure joy in which the name is said.
You’re still focused on Jungkook’s face, trying to conceal your reaction as he looks over at Zac with a wider smile when you hear it.
A crash. Metal scraping along tarmac. Silence for a second and then a scream, the noise so much louder than the name he shouted mere seconds ago.
Eyes wide, heart pounding, your head whips away from Jungkook in the direction of the noise. Zac must have turned too soon, distracted by the sight of Jungkook he’d lost control of his bike and left the pavement too soon, only to crash and fall off the curb.
You shoot to your feet, your focus solely on your crying son who has a bike now on top of him and is calling out for you. Time seems to slow. Your feet don’t move fast enough. Zac is too far away. And even though you run faster than you ever have, you still don’t make it before Jungkook. He’s pulling the bike off your son, trying to sooth him when you get there.
You swallow the tightness in your throat, the fear creeping up your chest, as you look at your scraped up son.
“Mummy,” he wails, eyes landing on you, tears streaming down his face as blood oozes in the cuts on his palms and knees.
You reach out for him, but again, Jungkook is too fast. He lifts Zac into his arms as if he weighs nothing and then he's ever so carefully handing him over.
“It’s ok, baby,” you hold him to your chest, hand soothing his head. “You’re ok. It’s just a little cut.”
But it’s more than that. It’s the shock of the accident, it’s more than a little cut and for you, it’s the fear that it could have been a lot worse. What if a car was coming down the road when it happened? What if he’d landed differently? What if he’d hit his head? You shouldn’t have been so focused on Jungkook. You shouldn’t have let Zac cycle around all on his own, he’s still so young. You should have –
“Come on,” a warm, steady hand squeezes your shoulder. “Let’s get you two inside and cleaned up.”
You look at Jungkook, your own tears welling in your eyes. As if sensing your rising panic, Jungkook’s expression changes and the hand on your shoulder moves to your lower back. He adds a small amount of pressure and is steering you in the direction of your house.
You let him guide you. Your feet, your body, everything but Zac in your arms and Jungkook’s hand on your back cease to exist. Mind racing about what you need to do you don’t realise Jungkook’s led you into your living room until his hand leaves your back. Eyes snapping to his already retreating body, he says nothing.
Panic still rooted in you; it takes you a second to react.
You need to calm Zac down. You need to clean his wounds. You need wipes, plasters and a blanket and hot bottle of milk. You need to –
“You need to calm down,” Jungkook says lightly as he comes back. “You can’t help anyone in this state.”
Hand back on your shoulder he guides you once again, this time until the back of your knees hit the sofa and then you’re sat. You look over Zac’s shoulder to see Jungkook kneeling before you, supplies in his arms. He has a hard look on his face, one that tells you to pull yourself together. You give him a small nod as you twist Zac around to face Jungkook, his arms tighten around your neck and your heart breaks a little.
“We’re ok, aren’t we Zac?” Jungkook says lightly. “Let’s have a look at that cut.”
You swallow as you watch Jungkook’s hand and eyes go to Zac’s cut knee. He waits a second and then lets out a loud, exaggerated gasp. Zac’s head pulls out of the crook in your neck to look at Jungkook and his wide eyes. Tears are still falling down his face, but the reaction has stopped the sobs.
“Oh Zac,” Jungkook says in another dramatic tone. You know he’s joking, you just worry that Zac doesn’t know that and Jungkook’s going to do the opposite of what he’s hoping. “I think you might survive. You know why?”
Zac’s little head shakes and you can only watch as Jungkook completely takes control of the situation.
“Because you’re being so brave. I mean look at you, I don’t know anyone braver,” Jungkook’s eyes dart up to you, a small smile now playing on his face at whatever look he’s seen on your face. “Don’t you agree, mummy?”
It takes you a second, mind scrambled, but you squeeze your hands on Zac’s shoulders. “So brave.”
“See,” Jungkook says. “Now, shall we have a look at cleaning you up? You have to be extra brave for me though, and if you promise me you will, then maybe after we can have some chocolate ice cream.”
Zac head nods and Jungkook smiles widely at him. You watch as Jungkook mutters how amazing your son is being while he cleans him up, he even makes him giggle at one point.
You stroke your hand over his head and try not to let your mind spiral. Jungkook is being so good and while you have no doubt that he would never let anything that may be happening between you get between him and Zac, it’s something wholly different to see. You’re not sure what you would have done had he not been there. And while you could pin some of the blame on him, not a single part of you wants to.
You’ve treated him like crap. Ignored him when all he wanted to do was talk. And yet he’s still here, acting as if everything is ok. That doesn’t seem like something the guy you’ve been imagining in your head would do. You’ve been way too harsh.
When Zac’s all cleaned up, you do as promised. While you help him change into cleaner, less cut, clothes, Jungkook finds him some ice cream. By the time he’s all tucked up watching Moana, there’s a bit more life in his face.
You don’t say anything as you leave him to it and head to the kitchen, and you don’t say anything when Jungkook follows you. Silently you flick the kettle and pull two mugs towards you.
“Can we talk?”
It’s what he’s been asking for days, in that same unexpecting tone. You’re in no doubt that if you said you didn’t want to talk, however hard Jungkook may find that, he’d still respect your wishes.
You make him wait a little longer now. Put a tea bag in each mug before pouring the just boiled water over them. When you twist Jungkook’s leaning against your counter, the portrait of indifference, though his eyes tell a different story as they bore into you.
“What do you want to say Jungkook?” You still have to force the words out.
He seems to relax while tense all at the same time. He takes a step towards you and looks as if he’d take another before thinking better and stopping. It’s as if now, finally given the chance, he’s not quite sure what to say. Or maybe he just doesn’t know where to start.
“I’ve already been through the whole what you saw wasn’t what it looked like thing. But you never let me carry on,” he pauses, as if expecting you to stop him again now. When you don’t, he carries on. “The reason I wanted to clear things up is because I don’t want you thinking of me that way or thinking that I was for some reason using you or Zac. I really like you Y/N. It wasn’t just a fling for me, I thought you got that?”
Clearly you didn’t. You’d hoped, sure, but the minute there was even the smallest of hints to say any different, you’d jumped on it. Jungkook seems to read that even though you don’t say anything.
“Why is that so hard for you to believe?”
You shrug feeling awkward, but Jungkook waits for you to say it verbally. “Well, because I’m me and I have a son and a really messy life.”
Jungkook’s lips twitches at the edges. “You know I love Zac too, right?”
“Playing in the street is something wholly different to going out with his mum.”
“You make it sound like I’m a kid too,” he laughs. “But of course I get that.”
“He’s not always happy and playful.”
“I think we just established that.”
“Yeah, but he’s hard work and needy and rowdy.”
“Where’s the downside here?”
“Jungkook,” you warn but he just laughs and takes another step towards you, now close enough to grasp your hands and lift them between your bodies.
“I honestly get it. You two are a package deal. That doesn’t put me off.”
You struggle, look at your hands laced together. You don’t pull away from him, but you also don’t fall into his arms. Something is still hold you back.
“What is it?” Jungkook encourages.
You take a breath and then look up into his eyes. “What if you don’t always feel that way? What if one day you decide it is too hard and isn’t worth it and just leave?”
He detangles one of his hands with yours so he can reach up to cup your cheek. His eyes look so soft now, though his features look hard and set with whatever thoughts he’s thinking.
“I would never just leave you two,” he says, thumb moving over your jaw. “Listen, I can’t promise anything about the future, maybe we won’t work and if we don’t I wouldn’t just up and leave you and Zac – I live next door, I wouldn’t be able to get very far,” he tries to lighten the mood and when you let out a small laugh, he looks happy that he succeeded. “But what if we did work? What if this is it? What if we’re meant to be together? Won’t you at least give it a try?”
You can see the hope swimming in his eyes, can see the desire and the truth behind every word he’s spoken. He really means it. He wants to be with you and he doesn’t care that you’re a single mum with an over enthusiastic child, that hasn’t put him off.
And you know he’s right. You’re pushing him away on what if’s and though you may not work out, should that be enough to stop you from having happiness in the here and now?
Jungkook patiently waits the few seconds for you to mull it over, but really you’ve been a sucker all along. You wouldn’t have been able to deny him for much longer, no matter what happened.
“Ok,” you finally say and watch as Jungkook’s whole face lights up.
“Ok?” He repeats, unbelieving.
You giggle and before you can confirm it a second time his lips are on you. Hard and heavy and a whole lot of teeth, it’s not the sexiest kiss you’ve ever had but it’s definitely in your top five, even given the fact it only lasts a second.
Jungkook stays close, his hand still on your jaw, his nose nearly brushing yours, a wide toothy grin on his lips.
“Can I take you out for that meal now then?”
You can’t supress your smile even as you roll your eyes. “I’ll look for a babysitter.”
“No,” he stops you. “I want Zac to come too.”
Your heart stutters, breath caught in your chest. It’s the three of you now and Jungkook already knows how important that is to you.
You lean in to kiss him again before mumbling against his lips. “Ok.”
5K notes · View notes
jjungxkook-backup · 2 months
Text
blackout | jjk
Tumblr media
⇥ 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💕 
5K notes · View notes
monimonimoon · 3 months
Text
Thirteen Rounds
Pairing: Boxer!Jungkook x f!reader
Summary: JK's boxing coach tells him he can't come for four weeks before his title fight. Ah, four weeks isn't that long, right? ... Right?
Genre: this is pwp, straight-up [don't look at the word count, please god, it really is just that many words of smut]; established relationship
Word count: .. 13.2k (I told you not to look!!)
Content: oral sex (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex, masturbation (f.), orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, sex toys, uh implied come eating? (It's not mentioned but he comes in her then eats her out sooooo it's happening 😂), cutesy nickname (look, if it were anyone but me writing this, i'd need a warning for it, too, 'cause if you're not familiar with the names of popular British biscuits, ya about to be!! and is it cringe? perhaps, maybe, i accept that but I am also UNREPENTANT about it, so you've been warned)
BLAME: Time to apportion some blame for this. Firstly, ofc, @btsgotjams27 for starting this.
Secondly, @sunshinerainbowsbts for putting it on my dash and bringing it to my attention
Thirdly, unfortunately, it's me, for deciding to do it
A/N: OK, I need to say that I do not know anything about boxing. I had to message my Extremely Offline older sister to ask her questions and then tell her I was writing a story about a boxer so fucking prayer circle for me that she never brings it up again!!!!! Canelo Alvarez is a real super middleweight boxer and JK is taller than him but that's as far as I looked into him.
ANYWAY ENJOY!!!
FOUR WEEKS TO GO
Jungkook walks slowly, very slowly, down the corridor to the door of your apartment. He does not want to go through it. He really doesn’t want to have to tell you what he’s about to.
Four weeks no sex.
That’s what Coach said. No sex, no masturbation, orgasms 100% completely verboten. He knows this is not going to go down well with you. From the very start of your relationship, you have never gone that long without sex. Jungkook isn’t sure he’ll be able to make it; he’s not sure if you will be either. A tiny part of him worries what it might do to your relationship – you’re stronger than that, aren’t you? This won’t hurt your relationship, will it? You’ve been together for years now, four weeks without sex can’t change anything… Right? Jungkook knows in his heart of hearts that it’s right but the thought of four weeks without you is so unutterably awful that he also can’t believe it won’t change things.
He flops face-first onto the sofa next to you and squirms immediately as you rake a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Absolutely none of that from now on.
“You ok?” you ask and he can’t answer because the answer is no and he’s not going to be for another four weeks, another 29 days in fact. He mumbles nothing into the sofa.
“Just tired? Training hard today?”
Training wasn’t hard, especially. This conversation we’re about to have is hard, Jungkook thinks. Keeping his face shoved into the sofa cushion, he breaks the news.
“Jungkook,” slight impatience in your voice now. “I cannot understand you when you talk into the sofa; what’s going on?”
He lifts his head slightly but can’t bring himself to look at you.
“Coach says we can’t have sex until the fight.”
“WHAT?”
“We can’t have sex until the fight,” he repeats, quietly, miserably.
He clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, still not daring to look at you.
“But that’s four weeks away! Four weeks!”
“I know!”
He takes your hand and kisses it, leaning up on his elbows. He rests his head on your thigh, bumping it gently as if he were hitting it against a brick wall. He mumbles under his breath, as close as he ever got to invective against his Coach (whom he nevertheless trusts and respects deeply). You’re being quieter than he expected you to be and it makes him nervous. He expected outraged protestations, reasoned arguments, begging and pleading. But you’re sitting and thinking.
“Why?” you ask. “What’s it for?”
“He says it’ll improve my focus, power, and aggression if I don’t come between now and then…”
You hum in response and he risks a peek at your face. You’re smirking and something about it makes his stomach drop.
“So… You can’t come, but I can do whatever I want, hm?”
He hadn’t considered that. Of course, that makes sense; you’re not wrong, but Jungkook realises this with absolute horror. Not being able to fuck you for four weeks was going to be bad enough as it is, but four weeks of getting you off without a single second of relief for him? He feels sick.
“Noooo! Baby, please. Please, you have to do this with me.”
It’s not his usual role, but he is not above begging. You shake your head.
“No way; four weeks is a long time and I’m not fighting anyone.”
“I know it’s a long time! That’s why we have to do it together!”
“On the contrary, my sweet, little biscuit, the whole point is that we don’t do it together, isn’t it?”
You lean down and kiss his nose but it is of no comfort. He’s pouting now, both furious and devastated at this turn of events. When you start running your hands through his hair again and his dick twitches, he groans; this will kill him, he thinks. Stone cold dead, this is going to kill him. He holds your hand tight and looks at you, finally, dead in the eye, eyes wide and pleading, his absolute best puppy dog.
“Please,” he begs. “Please.”
“Why don’t we have one last night?” you suggest and Jungkook groans because he knows that tone. “You can start tomorrow. One night won’t make a difference, surely?”
You slide down the sofa until your faces are almost level and Jungkook is about to rest his head where your thigh was, but discovers your breast in its place. He holds still. This is his first test and, while you might have a point, he’s got rules to follow and he can’t break now, not at the very first hurdle. He’s got better self-control than that, hasn’t he?
“Hm?” you continue. “Start tomorrow… Come on, Kookie, please.”
He wants to say yes, of course he does, but if he’s going to last four weeks, he’s going to have to practise saying no.
You slide off the sofa onto your knees on the floor and he eyes you carefully. You’re dangerous and you know it. When you trail your fingers down his spine and kiss the back of his neck, he shivers.
“I want you so badly,” you whisper in his ear and he groans. You slip your hand underneath his T-shirt and he’s sticky with sweat. “I didn’t have you yesterday and now we have to go four weeks? Kookie, I can’t take it… Be good to me, Jungkook, please.”
He loves it when you beg. Hearing his name in your mouth all high and whiny, tremulous with need and desire. If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. Goosebumps follow your hand on his back and he shivers, groaning into the sofa, fists clenched again.
“My love, stop it, please. We can’t.” His voice is weak and he can’t believe how weak he’s feeling; if you persist might longer, he genuinely feels he might snap and he’s ashamed that his self-control is apparently all but non-existent. He must do better.
“But I’m so wet already.”
Fuck. He snaps. He kneels up and looks at you, your innocent, little face, a devil in disguise. If you’re just playing with him, just teasing, you’re going to be in big trouble.
“Get up,” he commands, slapping the sofa. You obey without hesitation and he grabs you by the legs, pulling so you’re falling onto your back. He tells him yourself you were lying, of course you won’t be wet; you’re just teasing him and he’ll tell you off and ask you to take this seriously and it’ll all be fine. Then he yanks down your trousers and your underwear.
“FUCK.”
He brings his hands to his face and rubs.
“Fuck, I thought you were lying just to tease me, but fuck, you really are.”
You are. Looking at you is almost painful; he’s desperate to touch you. You’re right there in front of him, legs spread, and all he has to do is touch you. But he can’t. If he starts, he won’t be able to stop. He shuffles back away from you slightly, hands moving to reach you and then pulling back. He swears again.
When you spread your legs wider and shuffle yourself down closer to him, he has to stand. He has to do something with his hands: clenching at his sides, on his hips, on his head, over his face. He’s pacing, too, unable to look at you once again. It would be all too easy to take his own trousers off, let his dick out of its cloth prison and fuck you into the sofa. He has to bite down on his knuckles to stop himself doing just that.
“Kookie,” you coo. “Aren’t you going to touch me? I need you… No one touches me like you do.”
Jungkook is open-mouthed and he has to turn away. He growls, deep in his throat, and gently places his fists on the kitchen counter, when what he really wants to do is smash straight through it. His whole body is tense, fighting itself in an agony of indecision. He needs you to stop; he’s sure you won’t. Not when you’re having this effect on him. He should’ve seen it coming. He knew you wouldn’t take the news well; for some reason, he didn’t expect you to immediately be so defiant. You were always so pliant and obedient for him. But then, this isn’t really his rule and you and his coach didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye.
He freezes when he hears the unmistakeable squelch of you plunging your fingers in your wet heat. Then you moan. Then you whimper.
“Jungkook, please.”
He can barely control his breathing as he stands, still with his back to you, unable to block the sound of you from his ears. He should be the one drawing those moans from you; he should be the reason your breathing is hitched.
He decides quickly that you have a point. He can’t come but that doesn’t mean he can’t do anything he likes. He crosses the space to the sofa in three large steps and forces your hand away from you. He doesn’t see the expression on your face as you look up; he’s too busy staring at his next meal. He squeezes your thighs hard and lowers his mouth to you.
“Fuck, yes,” you breathe and it goes straight to his dick.
He moans loudly as he licks from your core to your clit, drinking you in. He licks through your folds, not wanting to miss a drop. He swirls his tongue around your clit before sealing his lips and sucking hard; you grab at his hair and he flicks his eyes to you but your head is tipped back, your back arching off the sofa. He pulls your thighs, bringing you even closer, smothering him, burying him but if he can’t breathe, he doesn’t notice. He notices the pitch of your whines tilt; he notices your breath come quicker; he notices your thighs twitching under his hands; he notices you tugging harder and harder at his hair. He watches you as he works, alternately swirling his tongue across your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking, until you’re screaming, your body writhing, shuddering under the waves of your orgasm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swears repeatedly, almost sure he hears you saying the same, but he can’t move his mouth from your lips; all that fresh arousal dripping from you has his name on it.
You squirm and bring your legs together, your feet pushing against his shoulders and he relents, shifting backwards but still gripping your thighs tight.
“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you but fuck, I fucking love your cunt.”
His hands move higher, his thumbs spreading your lips, running up and down, the slick noises they make like music to his ears. He whines as he drops his head to your thigh with a heavy sigh. He squeezes his eyes tight shut for a moment, trying not to lose all control even as his cock aches in his pants, desperate for you.
While he’s trying to keep it together, you extricate yourself from his grip and sink onto the floor. While he’s off-guard, you spread his legs and slot yourself between them. It’s only when his dick jumps as you slide your hands up his thighs that he realises what is happening. He leaps up and away from you in one, quick, fluid motion.
“No, no, no,” he mutters, hands tangling in his hair, twisting his T-shirt, gripping the kitchen counter, anything to stop them wandering to the bulge in his trousers. He’s painfully hard now, twitching with almost no provocation; his restraint is hanging by a thread.
“Jungkook,” you call for him, still kneeling on the floor. “Kookie, come here, let me help you.”
He growls and takes a deep breath. If he even looks at you right now, he knows he’ll snap.
“I’m going to shower.”
He has to get out, get away from you, anywhere will do.
“You better not wank in there!” you call after him. “Or I’m going to be really upset!”
He chuckles bitterly; as if he would ever choose his hand over your sweet mouth. He strips quickly and steps into the shower, turning the temperature as low as it’ll go and the power on full blast. He gasps as a strong stream of icy water hits him; he shudders and shivers and forces himself to stand still. He’s panting and his skin turns red under the blast but he can’t move, not until he’s flaccid, not until he’s stopped thinking about your beautiful pussy and your soft, hot mouth and no-! Enough of this. He calls to mind all his least favourite things, conjuring up the worst images he can, disgusting, horrible, anything. He just has to stop thinking about you.
When he’s finally showered and clean and soft, he leaves the bathroom. It’s not late, but you’re already sitting up in bed, naked as you always are, and he groans, trying to avoid looking at you.
“Hey now, that’s not fair,” you tell him, sulking with an exaggerated pout as he takes the towel from his waist and rubs it over his hair.
He almost chokes on his indignation.
“Not fair? Me not being fair? And what do you call that, out there? Is that fair, huh? And this?” He gestures to you, chest on display, arms just slightly squeezing your breasts together, as if you think he won’t be able to tell. “Is this fair?”
Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, he sits next to you on the bed; he simply will not survive the next four weeks if he can’t get you on-side. He has to stop you reaching out to touch his cheek; he’s only just been able to lose his erection, he’s not sure he can manage another.
“I’m serious, y/n, I cannot do this.”
He’s not sure he can look at you anymore. The thought of spending a whole night next to your naked form, your soft skin pressed against him… He can’t. He can’t even think it without feeling a stir in his groin.
“I can’t do this. I’m going to sleep in the spare room.”
Never in his life has he been more grateful to have one. He’d sleep on the sofa or the floor if he had to, but, if he’s doing all this to improve his fighting, he needs to keep his sleep up, too.
“Jungkook! Don’t leave me!”
When he risks a look at you, you’re wide-eyed and open-mouthed, dismayed. He doesn’t ever want to be the cause of that face; his heart aches. Maybe this would affect your relationship after all. He returns to sit on the edge of the bed and takes your hand. He kisses your palm.
“I can’t- I… I can’t even look at you, right now, without wanting to jump you.” He says quietly, sadly. “I just-“
“I can put some clothes on?”
Your hopeful face squeezes his heart and he wishes that would be enough.
“No, baby, thank you but we both know that isn’t going to help. I know what’s under there.”
“So, we’re not even going to be able to sleep together for the next four weeks?”
“No, we will, I promise. I just… Right now, I just need to get away from you.”
He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood, but fails. He misses you already.
“Can I at least kiss you goodnight?”
Jungkook isn’t sure. He’s not sure the one thread of sanity he’s clinging to will last, but he has to give you something.
“Of course, you can,” he answers, with only a little hesitation. “But please… Be nice…”
You take his face in his hands and he shivers. You kiss him once, firmly, and then again, softly, sighing against his mouth. He wants to wrap his arms around you and kiss you again, wants to melt into your mouth and roll your tongue with his. Then he feels temptation in his groin and has to pull away.
“Night night, my little custard cream.”
“Night night, my love.”
He leaves, and shuts himself in the spare room, wondering just how on earth either of you will make it through the next 29 days.
THREE WEEKS TO GO
Jungkook isn’t home so you’re taking the opportunity for a little Me Time (courtesy of your favourite rabbit). It’s been a week since the last time you came (courtesy of Jungkook) and you’re on edge. You feel a little guilty for the way you behaved, but you’ve been good this week in penance, even though you’re already missing him terribly.
At night, when he wraps himself around you, his hard chest against your back, his strong arms holding you tight, you feel a steady pulse in your core. You want desperately to shift, just push your hips back a little, bring his hand to cup your breast, do something to address your need of him. It’s worse than usual because, of course, you always want most what you can’t have. Isn’t that a universal truth? Last night, you even wished he would go and sleep in the spare room again; having him so close to you, knowing that you can’t touch him like you wanted to was beginning to get unbearable.
Hence, Me Time.
Jungkook is out and not due back soon so you have plenty of time to take things slow. Or at least, that’s what you intend. You take a nice, long, hot bath; apply your favourite body lotion: a rich, thick, cocoa butter that makes you feel expensive; you potter around the apartment for a while in your sexiest lingerie – there’s no one to see you, but it makes you feel sexy anyway. You think about Jungkook. You think about his hair, too short for your preference at the moment; you like it a little longer, a little wavier, giving you plenty to grab onto at the nape of his neck just as at the crown; you like it when it flops into his face and he pushes it back; you like when he lets you plait it and style it, just for the two of you, just for fun.
You think about his beautiful, brown eyes: huge and wide, bright and shining, so open and innocent. You think about the way he looks at you sometimes, like you’re his entire world, like he’s looking at the most beautiful, peaceful sight he’s ever seen. You think about the way he looks at you at other times: like you’re prey; like he’s calculating exactly the right way to destroy you; his eyes dark, black, piercing; eyes that silently command and will be obeyed.
You think about his mouth: his soft, pink lips and two straight rows of perfect white teeth; you think about his mouth on yours, the unyielding pressure of his lip ring, the hard bite of his teeth on your bottom lip, his soft, wet tongue rolling against yours; his soft, wet tongue swirling around your nipple; his soft, wet tongue licking through your folds, flicking across your clit, his lips tight around you as he sucks. You think about his long fingers, their reach; his strong hands and how they direct and control you, pinning you down and lifting you up.
You think about his cock, the prettiest you’d ever seen (though you weren’t surprised, given the rest of him); in perfect proportion, neither too long nor too thick, a slight, gentle curve, smooth but for one thick vein running the length of it. It makes your mouth water just to think of it; your pussy throbs, missing it and you settle on the bed. You can feel the crotch of your underwear is already sticky and your heart is already thumping but you’re still telling yourself that you’re going to take this slowly, because you have plenty of time.
You discard your bra, teasing your nipples beneath it, twisting at the barbells that run through each of them, remembering the way Jungkook had reacted the first time he saw them, as if it were Christmas morning and they were a brand-new puppy and a skateboard. You slip a hand down behind the waistline of your knickers and exhale sharply as you spread your juices across your clit. You’re aching now, with desire, with frustration but you take deep breaths to calm yourself down. You let your fingers work slowly, gently, dipping down between your lips to your entrance, exploring your folds, teasing and tapping your clit. It was almost like stepping into a bath: enveloped in warmth as blood rushed to the surface of your skin, cocooned in pleasure as it radiates outwards from your core to the tips of your toes. Goosebumps spread as a shiver rushes down your spine.
Then you get out your rabbit and the lube and shuffle out of your underwear. You coat the toy with lube, wipe your hand against yourself and turn it on, letting it rest against you for a moment, cycling through the settings until you reach your favourite. You think, not for the first time, as you slip it inside you, smoothly, easily, how much you wish you had one of these moulded from Jungkook’s cock. He thought you were joking the first time you said it, but you weren’t then and aren’t now. You want to be able to have him inside you even when he wasn’t around – or at times like this when he is around but isn’t allowed inside you. Nothing compares to him and while this toy might get the job done, it will never be the same.
The little rabbit ears press intently against your clit as you angle it inside you and start to rock your hips, working out a long, soft moan. You tip your head back and close your eyes, focusing on the coiling pressure in your abdomen. You cycle to another setting – higher, faster, more insistent now – and whimper with every breath as your climax comes closer.
“God, I’ve missed that noise.”
You sit up with a jolt to see Jungkook at the bedroom door, eyes roving hungrily over your naked body.
“Jungkook,” you gasp. “What are you doing here? I thought you had plans.”
He shrugs.
“Changed ’em... Though I might be sorry I did.”
“I thought you were going to be out... But since you’re here...”
You beckon him to the bed as you switch off the toy. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a sigh as he approaches you on the bed. You’re surprised; you thought he would refuse, hold back, protest even a little. Maybe this would be easier than you thought.
He looks at the rabbit, appraising.
“How does it compare, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a smirk just ghosting over his lips.
“It doesn’t, Kookie.” You flop backwards onto the mattress again. “Nothing compares to you.”
“Let me help you.”
You sigh with relief, waiting to hear his trousers unzip or the shuffle of cloth as he undresses but it doesn’t come. Instead, you hear the quiet whirring of vibration as Jungkook turns the rabbit back on. He chooses a different setting – short, intense pulses – and slips the toy back inside you, pushing the ears hard into your clit, forcing a choked moan from your throat.
“Jungkook... Kookie, no. I want you.”
The look on his face is fierce but softens when he looks into your eyes. He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear.
“You know you can’t have me now, baby. Stop playing dirty.”
He takes a hand and pushes low on your stomach as he rocks the toy inside you and changes the setting: insistent, hard vibration that almost sets your teeth chattering.
“Fuck,” you whisper as your walls start to clench and all your muscles tighten and you’re whimpering, mewling, seconds from climax, your breath catching in your throat. You’re a band stretched to its limits and just as you’re about to snap, Jungkook pulls the toy from you and sits back on the bed, not touching you.
“Wh-.. I...”
You look at him, dazed and confused, as he stands up and takes the toy with him out of the room.
“Where are you going?” you call after him, your voice weak and strangled.
You’re itching with frustration and impatience and when he returns, only a minute later, you turn to him, outraged. He’s empty-handed and he sits on the edge of the bed next to you and tucks your hair behind your ear sweetly.
“What are you doing?” you ask, still breathless, heart still pounding in your chest.
He leans closer to you, resting on his forearm on your chest, lightly crushing you beneath his weight as he takes your hand in his and directs it to his crotch, where you can feel his dick, semi-hard under his trousers.
“I’m showing you how hard this is,” he whispers menacingly in your ear. “You’re still not playing fair, little miss.”
He stands and walks out of the room, looking back over his shoulder at you.
“If I don’t get to come, you don’t get to come!” he calls.
You give a little, angry shriek and throw a pillow at him, which misses by miles, and you storm out after him.
“I did not sign up for that!” you shout, giving him a shove.
He grins at you and raises his eyebrows.
“What’s mine is yours, baby.”
“No way! No way! You know the second you leave, I can just make myself come.”
“That’s true,” he admits as he checks his watch, “but I’m not leaving again tonight.”
Furious now, you move closer to him, your hands on his hips. You lick your lips and move a hand between you, palming his erection. His eyes flutter closed.
“Two can play at this game, Jeon,” you hiss, sliding your hand between his trousers and his boxers, running your finger up his turgid length.
“Don’t call me Jeon.”
“Isn’t it your name?”
He tips his head back and bites his lip as you finally breach his boxers, wrapping your fingers around him, squeezing lightly.
“You only call me Jeon when you’re pissed,” he chokes out.
“Yeah, I’m fucking pissed.”
His head tips forward again and he looks at you as you sink to your knees, pulling his clothes down with him. You see him swallow hard.
“Not sure you thought this through, did you?” you ask, swiping your tongue across his head, tasting the tang of his pre-cum. “Here you are, all hard and ready for me...”
You take a hand through your lips, sweeping up your arousal and spreading it on the head of his dick.
“And me all ready for you...”
You wrap your lips around him and take him until he hits your throat, looking up at him through your lashes, then you come up and pause, just holding him in your mouth, your tongue running back and forth across the underside. Jungkook grunts and his eyelids flutter closed. You can see his fists clenching on either of him.
“Y/n...” he groans, quiet and strangled.
“Mm?” you hum, not taking him from your mouth, and you notice the muscle in his jaw jump as he clenches. “You started this,” you remind him, as you trail sloppy, wet kisses down the length of his hot, smooth cock. “I was going to be nice to you, but you had to go and spoil it.” You run your tongue flat across his balls as your hand continues to pump his shaft and he moans.
“Fuck, I miss you,” he whines, his voice high and tight as you run your tongue back to his head, enveloping him in your mouth once again. “God, fuck.”
You hollow your cheeks and suck, your hand and mouth moving as one. Jungkook’s fist moves to your hair, gripping tight, not directing you, just to have something to hold on to. As you push lower, tipping your head to take him into your throat, he jerks.
“No, no, no, stop! Stop.”
He pushes you back by the shoulders and stands, his breathing ragged, looking up at the ceiling and blinking hard. You let him stand there, recovering; you stay kneeling at his feet.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, each more aggressive than the last. He pulls his boxers and his trousers back on and looks at you, eyes wild. “No.”
“Kookie... Please.”
You pout up at him, put your hands on his thighs, and shuffle just an inch closer.
“No. Fuck, no, I can’t. I can’t.” He looks at you, alternately desperate and resolved and then shakes his head. “Baby, god, I want to. You know I want to. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
His hand is in your hair again, gently pulling you upwards, pulling you closer. He kisses your cheek and your lips, each little peck lasting a little longer than the last, until he just barely parts his mouth and you grab his bottom lip in your teeth. He moans and pulls away.
“No, no, no, no,” he whispers. “I can’t.” He swallows hard and looks skyward again, praying for strength. Then he repeats his no before stalking off into the spare room, cursing under his breath.
You sigh, more frustrated than ever, and, having spotted your stolen sex toy on the bathroom counter, you go back to finish what you started.
TWO WEEKS TO GO
Jungkook is sleeping in the spare room again. He says it’s because you’re not to be trusted, but what he means is that he isn’t to be trusted. He could barely trust himself around you before, but two weeks into the ban, he can’t risk taking any chances. Especially not with the way you’ve been behaving.
Apparently, so you tell him, there’s very little evidence to suggest that sex before a sporting event has as negative effect on performance.
“I even read,” you say, not for the first time, “that not having sex for a while lowers your testosterone so it’s not just that having sex isn’t bad, it might even be good! Don’t you want that?”
He’s trying to block you out. You’ve already told him this and he’s already told you that he’s doing as he’s told. He focuses on the TV, trying to get invested in the storyline, trying to care about the characters while you pester him relentlessly. He has to grit his teeth together and breathe carefully.
“Don’t ignore me, my little hobnob.”
You always pull out that biscuit when you think he needs to lighten up. He tries not to grin, not very successfully, because it’s such a ridiculous name – who calls a biscuit that, really? Then you slip your hands around his waist and rest your chin on his shoulder.
“I miss you,” you say, kissing his shoulder and rubbing his back.
He sighs, dropping his head, carefully trying to revel in your touch without giving in too far.
“I miss you too, love. Just two more weeks.”
You sigh, aggravated, and sit back.
“Yeah, two more weeks; we’re only halfway through. We have to do all of this all over again. Is that really what you want?”
“No, of course it’s not!”
Of course, he doesn’t want it. What he wants is to pin you down and eat you out ’til you’re screaming and then he wants to fuck you like his life depends on it, spend himself on you so hard he literally can’t move. What he wants is the opposite of this. Why can’t you understand that?
He turns to you, shifting his body around and reaches for your hands.
“Of course, it’s not what I want. I want you all the time. Why do you think I’m sleeping in the spare room again? I can barely stand sitting with you like this; every part of me is screaming at me to just take yo-“
“Then do it! Do it! I’m telling you, the science is on our side!”
He has to take a deep breath; he knows you may well be right. And he doesn’t like the thought of doing all this for no reason, for, if the article you read is right, the possibility that he’s actually less strong, less powerful in the ring, but he’s on a path and he has to stick to it.
“I’m doing what Coach says,” he tells you, sounding more resolved than he is. “I hired him for a reason and he’s already said he can notice a difference. This fight is so important and I have to follow him to the letter. I am sorry. I am…”
He is what?
He puffs out his cheeks and sighs. He doesn’t know what to say. There aren’t words for this or, if there are, he doesn’t know them. He leans forward and grabs the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. He knows he shouldn’t, knows how dangerous this is, but he misses you so much and he’s so upset and you’re so upset and he has to do something.
You scoot forward and sit yourself in his lap. His heart hammers in his chest, anxiety or desire or a heady mix of both, he’s not sure but his mind is slipping away from him and he’s not sure he cares anymore. He wraps his arms around you as his tongue finds yours. You’ve hardly had this much of each other over the last week and he’s ravenous. You moan into his mouth as he sucks on your tongue and he feels a stirring in his crotch. He can feel you, just above him, and he wants to push you down, roll your hips over his, but he daren’t; he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop himself if you do.
He's breathless with the need of you and it catches in his throat as you grind into him. He moans and bites hard at your bottom lip; you keep going, kissing him hard so that he can’t speak.
Jungkook gathers up his strength and pulls back, holding you tight in place so you can’t chase after him. He’s breathing heavily and his hand trembles as he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear.
“Y/n…” He doesn’t know if it’s a plea or a warning; he doesn’t have any more words to follow. There isn’t anything he can say or do that will make this situation anything other than torture. Nothing will make you feel better than being fucked by him, fucked hard, nothing more and nothing less. He knows because he feels the same. He’s almost dizzy with desire; he’s giddy but clinging with desperation to the last remnants of his self-control. There’s a tiny voice at the back of his head proud of him for having come this far, but he can’t listen to it because we all know what comes before a fall and he can’t afford a fall like this.
It's the title. It’ll be his first title. This win will put him on the map. This win will establish him as a real, professional boxer, one to beat; this will be, he hopes, the first of many belts, many titles. His coach has real faith in him, he believes he can make it to world champion if he works hard enough. And Jungkook wants it. He wants to work; he wants to win. And now, he has to win. Losing is not an option. And once he has won, once this is over – in two, long, painful weeks – it’ll have all been worth it and he’ll be able to have you six ways from Sunday, every day of the week.
“Please don’t stop,” you whimper and the open, desperate pleading of your glistening eyes goes straight to his dick. “Please, please.”
He’s had to resist your pleading before; he’s even enjoyed resisting your cries and pleas, but that’s when he’s been in control; that’s when he’s been ramping up to wrecking you once, twice, three times, as many times as you can take. This is ramping up to nothing and your pleading only makes him feel broken.
You bring your face to his again and he can’t back away. You kiss him with urgency, running your hands over his body beneath his T-shirt, teasing his nipples until he’s fully hard, straining against his boxers, pressing against your crotch. You strip off your own top and Jungkook’s resolve crumbles. He dips his head, lifting you slightly from his lap to kiss your breasts, to flick his tongue over your nipples and swirl them in his mouth, one at a time, until they’re tight and hard. He bites hungrily and you mewl above him, whining his name. It’s like heaven to him and he can’t believe he hasn’t had this for two weeks; the two weeks stretching out in front of you are paling, forgotten in some faraway corner of his mind.
He's kidding himself that he can last a little longer with you lifted up like this, your hips no longer grinding your core into him. He keeps his mouth occupied at your chest and squeezes your glutes in his hands, then slipping them into the wide legs of your shorts. When he pulls your underwear to the side with one hand, and slips the fingers of his other hand into your warm, waiting slip, he sighs with satisfaction. You’re tight and soft and so, so wet.
You take his face in your hands and pull him back to your mouth. The kiss is all tongue and heavy breathing, messy and far from pretty but you’re each so desperate for the other that nothing else matters. You kiss his cheek and his jaw and bite down on his earlobe, whining breathily as he presses insistently against your front wall, each curl of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge. He slips his other hand behind your underwear and spreads your slick over your clit, rubbing insistently, knowing you’re getting close. He can tell by the sounds you’re making, sounds he’d work out of you every day of his life if he could.
“God, Kookie, baby, yes.”
You plant your lips on his neck, muffling your whines and whimpers as the heat builds inside you. Jungkook groans, shivering as you suck on his neck, as your cunt clenches his fingers tight, as your legs shake on either side of him. He doesn’t stop, can’t stop even when you’re tugging his hair, even when you’re squirming, even when you’re screaming his name. He’s far away now, lost in the bliss of your velvet heat. He’s insistent and you’re so sensitive that he pulls another orgasm from you with a cry and a shudder that takes your whole body. He’s so focused on you as a way of distracting himself from his own intense, aching desire. He’s painfully hard; he can feel the spreading circle of pre-cum on his boxers; he’s not entirely sure he won’t come even if you don’t touch him.
Then you flop against him, spent, and your hand grazes his crotch and he jerks violently.
“Fuck!” he gasps and tears prick in his eyes. He can’t look at you; he stares far away, out of the window, trying to stop his dick throbbing, trying to slow his heartrate, trying without success to calm himself.
“Kookie,” you whimper, your voice shaky. “Let me-“
“No,” he whispers, no strength in his voice, no strength anywhere in his body except his stiff, swollen cock. He closes his eyes and he can feel a tear trickle down his cheek, followed by your lips as you kiss it away. He flinches at the contact and whimpers when you stroke his hair.
“I can help you,” you whisper but he doesn’t hear you.
He’s lost, his mind strangled with desperate desire. His brain is whirring, swimming, floating away from him; his fingers tingle and shake and his heart thumps erratically in his chest. He’s never been this excruciatingly turned on before and knowing that he can’t see it through is heart-breaking.
You move your hand towards the waistband of his trousers and he grabs your wrist. He’s gripping so tightly, he’s sure it’ll hurt, but he can’t be gentle now.
“Don’t-,” he starts but his words are swallowed by a sob.
You press your forehead against his and he can’t stop the whimper as you kiss him, so light, so soft. He holds your face in his hands, barely even really touching, trying not to tangle them in your hair and pull you closer. You stay like that, just looking at each other for a minute or more, his eyes never leaving yours. He knows he needs to calm down, knows he should be calming down now that you’re still but his breathing doesn’t settle and he can hear the thump of his heart and the roar of his blood in his ears.
“Baby,” he says eventually, his voice croaky and hoarse. He has to do something and it has to be something drastic. He needs a shock to the system, a full reset. “I need-… I need you to get something for me.” And he needs you to get it because he’s not sure he can walk, not sure he can move at all.
“Anything.”
“Ice. And water.”
“Huh?”
“Ice and water; I need a big, big glass- a jug of iced water please.” His voice wobbles at the end and he’s trying so hard to regulate his breathing, trying so hard not to feel the pulsing in his underwear.
“Ok…”
You shift on his lap but he can’t let you go. His fingers twine in your hair and you have to pry them out to allow you to get up.
With the relief of you off him, the air around him clears and he jumps up, taking off his T-shirt and pushing his trousers to the floor. Once again needing to do something with his hands while he waits for you, he holds them out to the side, not daring to let them anywhere near his erection, fists clenching and unclenching. He feels like he might really be on the edge of a heart attack or an aneurysm. He feels abnormal, like nothing he’s ever felt before. He could keel over.
He can hear you, the ice clinking in the glass and he taps his feet, impatient. When you hand it over, he takes it with both hands and up-ends it all over himself.
“Jungkook!” you cry, as water splashes all over the floor and the sofa and the coffee table, but it sounds distant, the shock of the water temporarily sending him far away. He’s gasping and shivering and blinking hard, then screwing his eyes tight.
“I need you to go,” he tell you, still unable to look at you.
“Go where?”
“Anywhere, baby, literally anywhere,” his voice is still wobbling, his teeth chattering. “If we’re still in the same room in five seconds, I think I’m going to die. Come or die, either way, I don’t know but please, please just go.”
“Ok, I’m going, I’m going.”
He can barely hear you; he scrubs his hands over his face, swearing over and over and over again, begging the universe to let him calm down, to make these next two weeks go as quickly as they possibly can.
ONE WEEK TO GO
Jungkook hasn’t taken any more risks since that night. And he has also told you, almost every day since, to behave yourself, to stop doing that; he’s asked if you’re trying to kill him and the truth is: yes. You’re sick of it now; it takes almost nothing to get you hot: just the thought of him, randomly popping into your head as you’re trying to send emails at work, and you’re getting wet. You can’t sleep anymore. He’s still in the spare room but you lie in your bed, thinking about him lying in the other bed, and you can’t help yourself. You make yourself come again and again but it’s never enough. You can’t believe that he’s not only managed to ruin all other men for you but also your own damn self. You know how to push all your buttons but it’s not the same when it’s you doing it, it's not the same without Jungkook between your thighs.
You know there’s only a week to go, but it’s too long and you’re too frustrated and you’re reaching your boiling point. So, you do what any other sane person would do: naked protest. You stop wearing clothes in the house entirely, getting dressed only to go out and stripping as soon as the front door shuts behind you. When you first walk into the kitchen as Jungkook is eating breakfast, he chokes on his cereal and you have to slap him on the back; you feel his eyes following you as you make yourself a cup of tea and some porridge.
Now he’s just ignoring you. He’s doing his best to stay out of any room you are in, but that’s fine. It’s a small apartment and you’ve hidden his noise-cancelling headphones, so you know he can hear you when you moan and whine, wanton and gratuitous, as you do your best to fix your frustration.
He still hasn’t broken. You’re impressed, honestly. You didn’t think that he would be able to hold out this long and, as aggravated as you are, as deeply, unutterably frustrated as you are, you can’t help but admire his self-control. Unable to be in the same room as you, he texts you and tells you that his trainer is impressed with his performance and is confident about the fight; he believes he can win. He had fucking better win is what you think, but you text back something a little more supportive.
Six days before the fight and Jungkook is in the shower. You’re at a loose end, so you decide to join him. You thank the lord that he didn’t lock the door; he’s got his back to you and doesn’t notice you there until your hands are on his waist. He cries out in surprise and goes to turn around but you hold him still, kissing his shoulder and his back and the nape of his neck. You run your hands up his abs, grab his fulsome pecs, and peeking around his shoulder, you’re delighted to see he’s already hard.
“Were you about to masturbate in this shower?” you ask him, only half-serious.
“No,” he groans. “This is how badly I want you, y/n. Why are you making this so hard?”
You giggle at his choice of words and he growls deep in his throat. He turns around and cages you in against the screen with his hands either side of you.
“In six days,” he tells you, his voice low, face serious, eyes pinning you to the spot. “In six days, I am going to fucking destroy you. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight for a week; I’m going to fill you up so completely, my cum never stops dripping out of you; I’m going to make you scream so loud, our neighbours want to call the police; I’m going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you again, then I’m going to fuck you some more and I’m still not going to be done. I’m going to take this cock,” he says, grabbing it at the base and hissing hard through his teeth as he does, “and I’m going to wreck your pretty little throat and your pretty little pussy, is that what you want?”
You can only nod, mute with desire, as you can feel arousal drip down your legs and you shiver, despite the warm, steamy atmosphere. Jungkook nudges his nose against yours, eyes still black as pitch, and he whispers in your ear.
“In six days.”
Then he leans back and stands back under the stream of water.
“Now get the fuck out.”
You’re so overwhelmed, you just do as he says and he follows behind you, shutting the door – and locking it – as soon as you’ve crossed the threshold. You blink hard and, as you come to your senses, you feel too many things at once: hot, frustrated, desperate, livid, heartbroken, a little bit intimidated, a lot excited, and over and above everything else, impatient.
Jungkook stands in the shower, turning the water icy again. He’s shaking, trembling all over, and before he can get himself under control, he’s sobbing. Hands against the tiles, shivering with cold and shuddering through ragged breaths, he drops his head and cries. Cries because he’s so frustrated, because he misses you so much, because he’s so tired, because he hates disappointing you, because he’s anxious, because he’s not sleeping well at night without you, because a tiny, paranoid thought niggles at him that this is going to make you leave him, because he can’t live without you and if he didn’t know it before, he knows it now.
He cries under the cold water for so long that it stops feeling cold against his skin and when he finally steps out of the shower, his skin is livid red and icy to the touch.
He goes to stay at a friend’s house that night.
“Look, I love you so much and I miss you so much that I can’t be around you,” reads his text. “Just thinking about you makes me want to die a seriously Little Death. The fight will be over soon; just six more days and I promise, I’ll give you everything you want and more. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please, please, please wait for me.”
“I love you, too, my little Bourbon,” you reply. “But I might never forgive you for this.”
“I promise, I’ll make you forgive AND forget, just wait ’til Saturday.”
He stares at his phone, wishing the messages said something different. He knows you’re joking, thinks you’re joking, hopes you’re joking, at least a little bit.
He sends a string of different kiss emojis and you toss your phone down beside you. Considering your small arsenal of sex toys without hope, you pick one at random, knowing even before you’ve started that it’s not even going to touch the sides of your desire. Your need for Jungkook has become a yawning chasm that stretches further than the eye can see; and it is a need for Jungkook specifically. For one mad moment a few days ago, you had considered the possibility of going out and getting fucked by someone else, but the second you thought it, it repulsed you: you don’t need a dick, you need his dick; you need his mouth; you need his hands. You need him, no one and nothing else. Accept no imitations. Which is really rather a pain right now.
You try to focus on your body, on the pleasure building there, the pleasant thrum in your core as you work with the vibrator in your folds and against your clit. You try to think about nothing, removing Jungkook from the equation, just emptying your mind and focusing on the physical sensations of your body.
It doesn’t work and you get so frustrated that you throw the vibrator in the bin and then, that not being enough, scoop up the others and chuck them in there, too. What’s the point of them, you think to yourself bitterly.
These had better be the fastest six days of your life or you aren’t sure you’ll survive.
FIGHT NIGHT
It was finally here. Jungkook had been working towards this for months, years, for his whole life in a way. It was both the pinnacle of his career and the first step of what he hoped would be a very long journey to the top. The final fight in his bid to be The Ring’s Super Middleweight champion: his opponent, Saul ‘Canelo’ Alvarez. Jungkook has him on reach and height, and he’s also lighter, which he thinks will be to his advantage. Canelo might be a slugger, but that’s where Jungkook excels. People think that his lightness is a disadvantage, that he doesn’t have the strength to throw hard enough punches, that he’s weak, that he’s Amir Khan. But he’s better than that. He’s agile and yes, slighter than other super middleweights, but he’s also strong and he’s also powerful and there’s nothing like seeing the surprise in his opponent’s face when he got his first punch in and they realised that for themselves. Of course, now he’s getting better known, he’s losing that element of surprise but it’s hardly the only thing he’s got in his keep.
But he’s not thinking about that. Today, just like all the other days this week, he’s thinking about you. His coach keeps telling him that he’s strong, that he seems focused, that he seems strong, but Jungkook isn’t entirely convinced. All he can think about is you; his mind is already beyond the fight and he’s anxious that this is going to be his undoing, that he’s going to have survived these past four weeks only to be so keyed up and desperate in the ring that he loses.
He wishes he could see you, just for five minutes, but you’ve been banned from his presence on fight days. You’re also banned from the gym on training days. Jungkook agrees with Coach that that’s probably for the best but it doesn’t mean he likes it. You are a distraction, there’s no denying it, but today, he really feels like he needs it. He needs you. Even an ounce, even a drop of you will do.
He pulls out his phone and dials your number.
“Kookie! Are you ok?” You sound concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”
“We never speak on fight days; I thought something might be wrong.”
Jungkook sighs and leans his head back against the wall.
“Something is wrong: I miss you.”
“Jungkook! Don’t scare me like that!”
He laughs and knows he was right to call you; just hearing your voice is like a balm to his fraying nerves. He already feels more relaxed.
“I’m sorry, love,” he replies. “I just wanted to hear your voice; we haven’t spoken this week.”
“I know and whose fault is that?”
“I know, I know, it’s mine, but I can’t wait to see you. Even if I lose this fight, as long as I’ve got you, I’m good, I’m a winner.”
“Hey now, you’re not going to lose, my little oat and raisin cook-”
“You don’t like that flavour cookie, do you?”
“Well, I don’t, no, but I thought I’d go with the least sexy flavour, in respect of how easy it is to get a ‘rise’ out of you at the moment.”
He snorts, appreciative of the weird, little effort.
“I think you’re right: raisins are not sexy but cookies are sexy biscuits, aren’t they? By default? Sexier than normal biscuits, right?”
“So you’re saying we need a raisin biscuit that isn’t a cookie.”
“Yeah.
“Garibaldi?”
Jungkook laughs.
“I don’t even know what that is, love, but sure, it doesn’t sound sexy.”
“Ok, then, I know you’re not going to lose, my little garibaldi.”
He laughs again and tells you that his coach has said the same thing (“… not in the same words”). He wishes he could stay on the phone with you longer; having barely spoken to you this week, he misses your voice, your presence, your conversation, just as much if not more than he misses your body. He sees his coach crossing the room, approaching him and he rings off reluctantly, but relieved he got even a minute with you before tonight.
He’s pacing in the dressing room; it’s almost time. He considered asking you not to come to this one; he’s not sure that he’ll be able to focus knowing you’re so much as in the room. The usual rule is that you’re allowed to attend but you have to sit somewhere in the back, somewhere he won’t be able to see you; he’s not sure if that’ll be enough tonight. Coach is talking to him, trying to hype him up, but he can’t hear a word. He just knows he needs to end this fight as soon as he possibly can and that means not going out there all guns blazing like a reckless thug in a bar fight; it means taking a step back (and he physically does it, takes one step back), taking a deep breath, and remembering the strategy, remembering the training. He’s ready for this (“You’re ready for this, JK,” Coach cries); he’s going to destroy Canelo (“You’re going to smash it, mate; you’re going to destroy him!”); and then he’s going to destroy you and himself in that order.
Canelo seems thrown off by Jungkook at the start: his size, maybe, his strength, his Southpaw stance despite being right-handed, Jungkook can’t be sure, but he wins the first round decisively and it’s exactly how he needs it to go: he likes to be the underdog but he likes an early lead. Spite and competitiveness can get you surprisingly far in life. He was right that Canelo is heavy and Jungkook is able to run rings around him; he thinks he might genuinely be able to get this wrapped up early, if he can just manage to hit him hard enough.
That turns out to be an ambitious goal and, halfway through, he’s slightly down on points. He’s frustrated; he can’t quite work out why his punches aren’t landing. Are they really not connecting? It certainly doesn’t feel like it. Are the judges just not seeing them? He’s not sure what he can do about that. He spits out the water Coach squirted in his mouth and he’s nodding at his advice. As he stands to get ready for the seventh round, his eyes roam the crowd, not looking for anything, just looking. Then his stomach flips. He sees you.
You’re sitting in your seat, anxious and uncomfortable. It always makes you anxious to see him fight, even though you know he’s trained for this and he’s as safe as anyone else would be in the same situation, but you flinch every time Canelo lands a punch. Jungkook hasn’t lost a fight all year and you’re surprised to see him losing – even if not by many points. You hadn’t really considered the possibility of him losing, because he doesn’t. He’s Jungkook. He’s the Baby Assassin of Busan. He doesn’t lose.
But things go from bad to worse. The next rounds see Jungkook falter, making uncharacteristic mistakes and misjudgements that cost him points. As the bell rings at the end of the tenth round, you can see the frustration in Jungkook’s face from here. Your stomach twists; you know how much this fight means to him and how upset he’ll be if he loses. You try to rouse yourself; it’s not over ’til it’s over. There are two rounds to go and he’s not so far behind he can’t make it up. There’s still a chance.
When Jungkook stands for the eleventh round, you see him scanning the crowd in your direction. You panic, should you hide? Duck? Cover your face? Too late; his eyes find yours and the second stretches into eternity, just you and him, before he’s tapped by the ref and he turns away. You shouldn’t have come. You’re a distraction. You’re going to make it worse.
Jungkook is going to lose.
The bell rings and Jungkook feels sprightly, buoyed, suddenly less tired than he had done in the last round. He dances energetically around the ring, keeping Canelo moving, keeping him throwing punches and missing, throwing more punches and missing again and again. You’re on the edge of your seat; this is the Jungkook you know. All at once, he lands three punches on Canelo and leaps back out of his retaliatory reach. Then he settles in a bit closer and lets Canelo land a couple on him; this… isn’t the Jungkook you know. You can’t work out what he’s doing; you’ve not seen him do this before. You turn to the clock, watching the seconds of the round tick by. Thirty seconds left. You check the points. Jungkook still behind.
This is more like it, Jungkook thinks. He can end it. He knows he can. He just has to let Canelo let his guard down a little more, tire him out a little further. Jungkook is not letting this get to twelve rounds. It won’t happen. Not on his watch.
You’re so focused on the screen: the points, the time, that you miss what causes the crowd to suddenly surge and scream. Canelo is standing with the referee in front of him, looking a little dazed. The ref lets them continue and the round commences again. Before Canelo has even blinked, Jungkook has hit him with a left hook that you know he put all his weight into. Canelo falls to the mat and doesn’t get back up. The ref starts counting. The crowd count with him.
“8… 9… 10!”
The ref waves a wide cross in front of him; the commentator declares it a knockout; and the crowd is screaming. Jungkook’s arms are in the air, his coach lumbering into the ring to envelope him in a hug, along with everyone else, it seems, the ring suddenly full of people. You lose sight of Jungkook. You’re on your feet, straining to see over the heads of the people in front of you, who are doing the very same thing. Tiny red fists emerge from the mêlée and it’s him; you exhale a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. You’re desperate to get to him. It’s over. The fight’s finally over. And he won. By knockout after a hard fight. This is absolutely the best outcome, better even than you’d hoped for. You bet he’s on cloud nine and you can’t wait to join him there.
Jungkook is buzzing. He’s done it. It’s finally over. And that means there’s only one thing on his mind. He can’t focus, is barely there as they hand him his belt, as he lifts it above his head to show the screaming crowd. People are congratulating him, slapping his back, rubbing his hair; at some point, someone takes his hands and rips off his gloves – he’s not sure where they end up. The fight was televised and a man with a microphone approaches him. He tries hard to focus on the questions, answering as quickly as he can and then the presenter asks just what he’s going to do now he’s won his first Super Middleweight title.
“Well,” he answers, “I haven’t come in four weeks so I’m going to go find my girl and fuck her in the dressing room ’til neither of us can walk straight!”
He points right at you, flicks a peace sign to the crowd and jogs back the way he entered 45 long minutes ago.
He keeps jogging all the way to the dressing room, stopping for precisely nobody. Coach tries to grab his attention, tries to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs him off. Wild horses can’t keep him from you now.
He swings open the dressing room, for a moment disappointed that you’re not there before him, but, of course you wouldn’t be. He’ll have to wait; it’s been four weeks, he can cope with another four minutes. Probably. He paces back and forth, back and forth; he chugs half a bottle of water; he almost wipes the sweat off his body, dries his hair, but then he remembers how much you like him dirty like this. Just the thought of you has got him hard already. He palms himself through his shorts and immediately has to stop himself; to come before you’ve even got in the door is unthinkable, unforgivable.
The door opens and there you are.
“Fucking finally.”
Jungkook slams his hands either side of your head, leaning down over you, sweat still dripping from his hair. He lowers one hand slowly to lock the door, his dark eyes never leaving yours, and then returns it next to your head.
“Did you have to wear fucking jeans?” he asks, laughing lightly. Of course, she’d wear jeans, he thinks, fucking tease. “Couldn’t find a dress? A skirt?”
“Sorry,” you answer, and you’re already breathless.
Jungkook kisses you, pressing his whole body against you and you sigh; god how you’ve missed this. He turns you around with one knock of his hand on your hip and he unbuttons your jeans impatiently. He shoves them roughly down your legs and you step out of them and your shoes at the same time.
“Oh baby, I don’t care. All I care about is finally getting to fuck you like you deserve. Please tell me you’re wet already. I don’t think I can wait a second longer.”
He’s usually more considerate; he would usually take his time. But this is not a usual situation. You laugh.
“Kookie, I’ve been wet for weeks, just hurry the fuck up, would you?”
He doesn’t need telling twice. He strips off his shorts and boxers and as he presses the head of his cock against your entrance, and it twitches, he gasps.
“Shit.”
He takes a few breaths, tries to steady himself. He kisses your neck, buying himself some time. He’s on a hair trigger and he’s not entirely convinced he won’t blow his load in one thrust.
“Just so you know,” he tells you, figuring there’s nothing else for it. “I’m going to last about ten seconds right now, but I promise, I’ll be ready to go again. I swear this won’t be it.”
“Just fuck me, please, Kookie. I’ll take ten seconds over none.”
Your whole body shudders as he presses into you for the first time in four weeks. You both moan low and Jungkook pauses at the bottom. You can feel him breathing heavily against your skin and he takes your trapezius in his teeth, taking a generous bite and not letting go as he drags himself backwards before thrusting in again. Your walls are spasming already; you’re so tight and he’s stretching you just right, filling you up like you’ve not been filled for 29 long days.
Ten seconds, as it happens, was an over-estimation. The way you grip him, the way he can feel your walls fluttering against him; you’re so hot and wet and tight and it’s been so long and he’s so sensitive. He lasts for all of a handful of thrusts before he’s groaning and shooting hot, white ropes of cum into you.
“Fuck, shit, sorry, baby, fuck!”
You can’t help but laugh as you turn around, keeping your legs tight together. He grins sheepishly at you and runs a hand through his sweaty hair.
“I’m sorry, love, I did tell you.” He rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve missed you so much.”
His hands meet across your lower back and he pulls you close for a kiss.
“I’ve missed you, too, Kookie,” you mumble against his lips, half your words eaten up by Jungkook’s mouth. You feel his tongue against your lower lip and you open up for him, sliding your tongue over his as he licks into your mouth. God, even this you’ve missed. You’ve barely even seen him in the last week, let alone got close to him, let alone touched him, let alone kissed him, even chastely. It’s overwhelming now to have him so close to you, all over you. You never want him any further away.
He moves his hands lower and lifts you up under your bum, carrying you to the sofa, where he strips you of your top and bralet – the black, lacy one you know he likes. You almost pout that he takes no notice of it but he catches you eye and grins.
“I notice, I know, I love you, thank you, but god, I don’t want a stitch on you right now. Nothing is better than you like this.” He stretches his hands out over your naked body and climbs over you. He ducks again, swallowing your next moan as he pinches at your nipple.
His mouth is everywhere, burning wherever it touches. You’re sweating and breathless and you think you won’t last much longer than ten seconds either when he finally touches you. Your cunt is quivering in anticipation, your clit throbbing a hard pulse, its echoes shuddering through you. Your back arches as Jungkook moves lower, his mouth on one nipple and then the next and then lower and lower still. He crawls off the sofa onto his knees and pulls you around, legs dangling from the edge. He spreads your thighs wide and takes a moment, looking down at your soaking wet pussy through half-lidded eyes. He licks his lips and clicks his neck from one side to the next before fixing you with a mischievous grin.
“If you even think about teasing me,” you gasp out. “I will fucking murder you.”
He laughs and kisses your inner thigh.
“You over-estimate my self-control, my love. I’m at my fucking limit.”
He is. He isn’t even close to finished with you. His cock is already stirring again as he dives straight in, licking a broad stripe from core to clit and moaning lasciviously as he does. You’re already so sensitive, whining and whimpering as he sucks and slurps at you, his face buried so far into the crux of your thighs, you don’t know if he can breathe. Almost immediately, you’re cresting, arching off the sofa, thighs clamping together on Jungkook’s head as a streak of hot pleasure surges through you and fresh arousal gushes over his face.
He brings his hands to your thighs and forces them apart without breaking contact with your cunt. He doesn’t stop, no matter how you squirm; you can’t catch your breath to tell him you’re over-stimulated, to beg him to stop, to give you a second’s break. A scream breaks in your throat as he pushes three fingers inside you and you’re seeing stars. He finally takes his mouth from you and breathes heavily against you, his breath sending sprinkles of goosebumps across your skin. He curls his fingers inside you and then tips your hips just slightly, suddenly hitting the perfect spot. You’re incoherent, animal, as you moan and whimper, stuttering to another orgasm under his ministrations.
You don’t have to find a way to ask him to remove his fingers as the waves of your orgasm roll through you but just as you are about to breathe a sigh of relief, his mouth is back on you. He’s gentle this time, more patient. He kisses your lips, licks through your folds slowly, moaning, his brows knitting together because it’s been so long since he’s tasted you and there’s nothing he’d ever rather eat. He buries his tongue in your hole, bumping your clit with his nose; if it were anyone else, it might be accidental, but you know Jungkook knows your body perfectly and knows exactly what he's doing. You’re raw, over-wrought, dehydrated. Your vision swims and your voice gets stuck in your throat, able only to gasp and stutter, not even able to scream his name out loud as you scream it in your head. Your hands tremble, one pushing back the hair on your head, the other finding its way to Jungkook’s hair, tangling there as if you could even dream of giving him direction right now.
His eyes flick to yours and they’re black, pupils dilated, lids fluttering quickly to a close again as he moans, vibrating lips sealing around your screamingly sensitive clit. Your hand pulls sharply at his hair, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. You feel like every atom in your body has been electrified, every touch, every movement – yours or his – sending sparks straight to your core, where they’re churned up into a tight ball. Like the death of a star, your body collapses in on itself, contracting and tightening as you are reduced to little more than a silent scream, and then explodes, a supernova of ecstasy exploding within you, scattering bits of you all over the room.
When you open your eyes, you can see stars wherever you look, which isn’t far because you can’t find it within you to move a single muscle.
“You ok, my love?”
Jungkook’s face swims into view, a dopey grin on his sticky, wet face. He looks drunk or high or both. He pushes the hair off your face, your flushed cheeks, fucked-out, dilated pupils staring straight at him; he thinks you look high or drunk or both. He kisses you so you can taste yourself on his lips and you’re suddenly hungry again.
“Kookie.” Your voice is hoarse and low, still strangled with need.
Jungkook hums against your mouth as he lifts you up, pressing your back into the back of the sofa.
“Kookie.”
You manage to grab his face between your palms and hold him still, giving you a chance to focus on him, see him properly.
“Tell me what you need,” he says, as eager to please and energetic as a new puppy and you have no idea how. He should be tired; he knows he’s going to crash hard, but right now, there’s adrenaline surging through him like there’s no tomorrow. He’s wired; he’s excited; he feels almost manic with love and lust and he’s so high, he can’t see the ground. He feels like he could go all night and he’s certainly going to try.
“I need you inside me, right now, right this second. Please, please, please.”
You aren’t exactly unaccustomed to begging but nothing will stop the stream of ‘please’s tumbling from your mouth. Nothing, that is, except the head of Jungkook’s perfect cock in your folds, waiting, teasing at your entrance.
He’s lifted you again, setting you on the arm of the sofa, him kneeling on the cushions; with nothing to rest against, you cling to him tight as your breath catches in your throat. He watches closely as he pushes into the tight, wet slip of your cunt, watching himself disappear into you. You want to make a joke about lasting another ten seconds but you don’t have the energy, the capacity, the mental agility to make it; you just about manage to cry his name as starts to thrust, smooth and slow at first, but soon, quicker, harder, accompanied by quiet growls and grunts as he grips you tight. You really do feel drunk, giddy, hysterical as he’s finally, finally back where he belongs. You feel tears prick in your eyes at the relief of it, the pressure, the pleasure.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispers. “Shit, I can’t wait to fill you up, stuff you fucking full. Can you take it, baby?”
He’s relieved he hasn’t come again already, though he knows he could. He’s holding back because he’s still so close to the edge. If he isn’t careful, he’s going to lose it again.
“I can take it,” you reply, voice high and tight. “Give it to me, Kookie- fuck.”
He grabs the hair at the back of your head and pulls it back, exposing your neck so he can kiss you, lick you, bite you there, moaning against your skin as you whimper and stutter.
“Kookie, shit, please. I need you to fuck me forever. God, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
“Never,” he grunts. “Shit, won’t stop. I’m yours, baby.”
“Only mine.”
“Only yours.”
You press your lips to his clavicle, then lick a bead of sweat travelling down his throat. Jungkook moves faster still, his grip on you painfully tight as he threatens your cervix with every thrust. You’re so sensitive, you’re at an almost constant spasm around him; your limbs still heavy and weak, tingling like they’re both going numb and coming back to life. You simultaneously want this to last forever and feel like you’ll die if a single extra ounce of pleasure is put on you. Then Jungkook sucks at that one spot on your neck that makes you melt and you swear, voice wavering and breaking.
“Give me one more, baby,” he demands, so low you almost don’t hear it.
“I don’t have it,” you whimper.
“Yes, you do, c’mon, y/n.”
And he slips a hand between you, never letting his pace falter.
“Jesus, fuck!”
He touches you gently, but it’s enough to have reality slipping from view, your vision burning white, your blood roaring, screaming in your ears as you cum again. You hold him tight, your nails digging into his back, your teeth hard on the delicate flesh of his neck. It rolls through you, knocking your breath from your lungs, and once it’s passed, you’re trembling, shaking.
Jungkook is holding his breath, straining to last to fuck you through your orgasm; you’re so tight around him it’s like his brain loses signal, just a siren wailing an emergency. No thoughts, no words, when you collapse against him, he exhales, and releases into you with a long, high-pitched sigh.
He lies back onto the sofa, taking you with him.
“That was more than ten seconds, right?” he asks, breathless.
You laugh and pat his shoulder.
“Well done, little jammy dodger; I’m proud of you.”
“For lasting more than ten seconds or winning the title?”
“What title?”
The question leaves your lips before your brain has engaged and Jungkook laughs, first a little and then a lot, so much that you can’t help but laugh with him, can’t help but laugh until you’re crying, your abs hurting, you’re silent in your mirth, breathless and voiceless and hysterical.
When you finally stop, you bring your face level to his. He still has tears of laughter in his eyes and streaking his cheeks. You wipe them away with your thumb and he turns his head to kiss your palm.
“Both, I guess?” you answer.
He grins and shakes his head.
“I almost lost. I thought I was going to fucking lose,” he tells you. “That second half, I-…”
“What happened?”
“I saw you. I saw you in the crowd and I almost fucking came right then and there.” He laughs, though it was anything but funny at the time. “I couldn’t concentrate on the fight; all I could think about was trying not to get a fucking boner. Shit what a stupid fucking idea it was not having sex for four we-”
“I fucking told you!”
“I know, I know. I will never not listen to you ever again for the rest of my life, I swear. God.”
“No more sex bans?”
“No more sex bans. I am never, ever not having sex with you again.”
“Good.”
You lift yourself onto your elbows on his chest and kiss him first on the lips, then the jaw and neck and anywhere within reach.
“Speaking of never not having sex… Are you ready to go again?”
6K notes · View notes
jjungxkook · 1 month
Text
blackout | jjk
Tumblr media
⇥ 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💕
3K notes · View notes
taegularities · 7 months
Text
not my fault | jjk (m)
Tumblr media
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
Tumblr media
MASTERLIST | WIPS
Tumblr media
“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.
Tumblr media
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.
Tumblr media
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.
Tumblr media
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.”
Tumblr media
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?”
Tumblr media
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.
Tumblr media
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
7K notes · View notes
mapofthesea · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
jungkook x afab!reader
non idol!au, domestic jungkook
genre: smut and fluff
word count: 3k
summary: After your midday nap ends in a nightmare, you seek Jungkook for comfort.
warnings: talk of a bad dream (some discussion of it but nothing crazy), needy Jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, face sitting, oral (f receiving), lots of love for readers tits, body appreciation in general, they're in love, handjob, some teasing/begging, jk is whiny but still in charge, dirty talk, unprotected sex in an established relationship (this is fiction, please don’t do this irl), jk cums inside, aftercare 
an: This came to me in a dream again and I woke up far too early to write the outline. As always, I do not proof read (because I am lazy and spend enough time proof reading my college assignments) so if there’s any typos I apologize. This includes mature content and is for 18+ audiences ONLY, so if you are underage or uncomfortable with this content, please don’t read it. Enjoy!
A shiver wracks down your spine, hair standing at attention underneath the warmth of your thick sherpa sweatshirt. The remnants of your dark nightmare leave you confused, even as a gentle mid-day sun streams into your bedroom and the pleasant chirping of birds faintly greets you. Your head spins and your mouth is dry, but you ignore both of those feelings as you rush out of bed. 
Flashes of the nightmare seem to stick to you, even with the sunny disposition of the day. The feeling of hopelessness and loss stings you in the short walk down the hallway into Jungkook’s office, where you had left him when you went to bed. The door is ajar, and the breath you exhale as you open it is punched right back out of you when you find the room empty. 
Anxiety simmers within you, promoted by the way you had just dreamed about not being able to reach your beloved boyfriend. The only thing you can think to do is rush down the stairs clumsily, narrowly avoiding banging your elbow off of the railing as you fly into the living room. Jungkook is there, sitting on the couch facing away from you, mindlessly tapping through his phone. 
A sigh of relief falls from your lips as you latch yourself around him from behind the couch. He startles at your touch and turns until he’s sideways, level with your chest as he peers up at you. 
His hair is endearingly mussed, a few errant pieces poking up at the crown. His big eyes twinkle at you, irises searching your own when he sees the stricken look on your face.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Of course he immediately noticed something was wrong. You can only imagine how crazy you look fresh out of a nap and a subsequent panic. 
“Just a bad dream.” You offer, running your hands down the steady plane of his back, enjoying the tangible proof of him being alive and well. Jungkook makes a low keening noise at your attention, nuzzling into the soft fabric of your sweatshirt so far that you almost don't hear his muffled words. 
“Wanna talk about it?” You finally make out his words, and the thought of rehashing the dream brings tears to your eyes. Your breath hitches a little as he settles his head on your chest. His weight is grounding, and the fact that you can smell his intoxicating mix of shampoo and cologne gives you enough power to choke out the details. 
“You needed help, and you kept calling for me, and I couldn’t get to you.” You sniffle and he whines, winding his hands around your back to hold you impossibly closer. “And you just kept yelling my name and I couldn’t find you, and I thought that you were...” the word stalls in your throat but he understands, nodding against your chest. One of your hands slides to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart and the constant rise and fall of his breath. “I just needed to know you’re still here.”
“I’m okay, I promise. I’m right here.” His hands are steady on your waist, nose nuzzling endearingly into the space just under your breasts. His actions make you shiver for a completely different reason, and a shuddering breath punches out of you. 
“Need me to prove it?” His voice takes on a teasing lilt that makes your stomach flip and you hum your affirmation. Jungkook moves deliberately, nuzzling his face against your covered cleavage. Even through the layers of clothing you can feel your nipples harden, begging for him to give them more attention. He mouths at your tits through the fabric, playfully biting at the flesh there just enough to make you gasp. 
“Fuckin’ sweatshirt,” he groans, looking up at you with well practiced puppy eyes. He knows he doesn't need them, that you would do basically anything he asked you right now, but he loves to see the way your face softens at his expression. 
“Please take it off, baby. I wanna see your pretty tits. Wanna have ‘em in my mouth.” The genuine desperation in his voice is nothing new but it still makes your brain short circuit a bit as you scramble to pull the sweatshirt off. As soon as the fabric hits the floor Jungkook’s hands push your t-shirt up over your chest, holding it up around your collarbones with one hand as he dives into your tits.
He has no shame in lapping at you, leaving trails of translucent spit around your nipples as you keen. Jungkook sighs happily as his free hand gropes what he can't fit in his mouth, which he’s using to leave a sinful pattern of bite marks all over you. He makes a particularly pointed mark inches away from your nipple that has your knees buckling. He chuckles a breath of air across your already sensitive nipple and your hands grip greedily into the back of the couch for support. 
The way his head looks at it bobs between your breasts makes you dizzy, not to mention the deft movements of his tongue and hand sending sparks straight to your core. 
“Taste so fucking good baby, as always. Shit. I love these fucking tits.” He licks a bold stripe across your right nipple before capturing it between his lips and you pitch forward into his touch. Your hands move too, desperate to feel something other than the plush of your couch under them. 
Jungkook is so wrapped up in you that he doesn't notice your hands have moved until you’re palming his cock through his lounge shorts. He groans and nips at the swell of your breast in retaliation. 
The feeling of him readily hardening under your touch makes you moan, head tipped back as you trace the familiar length through the fabric. 
“Wanna touch you, Jungkook, please.” Your eyes water with tears and he coos at you, stroking his thumb underneath your eye to collect some tears. 
“Fuck, yeah, baby. Take my cock out while I suck these pretty tits.” His voice is barely more than a whine, but you feel confidence surge through you at the idea that you’re the one to make him this way. With no underwear on, it’s easy for you to get his cock out of the confines of his shorts. The weight and size of him is familiar and almost welcoming as you begin to stroke him the way you know he likes. You savor the feeling of his prominent veins as his cock jumps in your touch. His breath stutters against your chest in tiny puffs, giving away just how badly his resolve was slipping as you work your thumb over the head. 
“Fucking shit, you have to stop,” his hands fall away from you, head tipping back as you stroke him particularly hard. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. 
You decide to ignore his words but only manage to stroke him a few more times before he pushes your hands off of him with a growl. His eyes are dark with lust, hungrily racing over your figure that’s back to being covered with your t-shirt. Your chest heaves as he tips his head toward the empty space on the couch, and even without words you know what he wants. 
You settle into the couch and seconds later Jungkook is over you. You can see the way he’s pushed his hair off of his forehead, and the sexy crease of his eyebrows as he appraises you. 
“Stupid shirt,” he mumbles as he helps you take it off, mumbling endearingly as it gets stuck on his hands while he tries to get it onto the floor. His own follows shortly after, and it doesn't take long before he’s hovering above you completely bare. 
His cock stands at attention against his toned stomach and you reach for it, hoping he takes some pity and lets you return the favor of amazing foreplay. 
“No,” he grunts as you make contact with him. A shy smile splits his face when he notices your pout and his demeanor softens despite the situation. Jungkook brings his face inches away from your own and smiles. 
“You know I haven't even kissed you since you came down here? How awful of me.” 
“Hmmm, worst boyfriend award pending,” you tease. He smiles again and his nose wrinkles adorably, teeth poking out in the most endearing way. Your stomach flips at his beauty, how lucky you are to have him. 
“Fuck, just kiss me, please,” you breathe, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to feel his lips on your own. You keep a steady hold on the back of his neck as you kiss, clashing teeth as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your hips buck involuntarily at his touch and his hands find a place at them, holding with a bruising grip. He disconnects from the kiss, planting one on your chin as your chest heaves with desire. 
“My sweet girl, all worried about me in your dream, hm?” The way he’s able to change his demeanor so quickly during sex is something you love about him, and your head spins as he falls back into a more dominant personality. His fingers tease into the waistband of your bottoms, dancing along the delicate skin of your hips. 
“Y-yeah,” you squeak out. Jungkook takes mercy on you and slides your bottoms down, leaving you bare to his gaze and touch. 
“Wanna make you feel better now.” He sits up, surprisingly, and your eyes zero in on the way his cock bobs with the movement. His legs fold and unfold as he moves, and you’re confused until you realize he's laid himself down on the extended sectional of the couch. 
“C’mere baby. Want you up here.” You obey mindlessly, crawling over him so that you’re on top now. Assuming he wants you to ride him, you position yourself just above his hips, hands planted on his firm chest. An incredulous laugh punches out of him as he reaches down for you, pulling you further up his chest until you’re-
“Jungkook, no.” You gasp, in disbelief of what you now realize he’s implying. His hands splay on your thighs and his eyes sparkle. 
“Uh uh, no fighting me. We both know how much you love sitting on my face, so get up here. Wanna have you in my mouth.” 
Your stomach contracts because you know he’s right, but there’s a nagging voice in the back of your head. 
“Kook, I just had a dream that you..died, and I don’t wanna hurt you.” Jungkook grunts at your worry, pinching at the meat of your thigh. 
“Baby, I’ll be just fine. Plus, if I’m gonna go, I would love for it to be while I’m buried in your sweet little pussy.” 
His candor sends a new wave of arousal through you, and you know he’s right, so you nod and shuffle your hips up to him. 
“Love you so much, Kook.” He smiles at your words and promptly wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you exactly where he wanted you. His tongue immediately splits open your pussy lips as his fingers flex into your skin and hold you in place. You can feel his nose pressing against your clit, rubbing the nerves in a way that makes your eyes roll. He makes short work of licking up every bit of arousal you'd already produced, but there’s no shortage of more as he endeavors to attach his lips around your clit and suck. 
Your thighs shake around his head and you can heard his satisfied moans against your pussy. You feel like every nerve inside your body is on fire, conducted by the way his tongue knows the perfect places to devour. Your orgasm builds exponentially when he licks messy circles around your clit, the sloppy sounds of his spit mixing with your juices hurdling you closer to your end. Your toes curl as he groans again, vibrations going right to your core and coaxing your orgasm out of you. You gasp, unable to stop the tightening of your thighs around his head as you cum. 
Forever the champ of eating you out, Jungkook continues to lap up your orgasm until you’re genuinely worried you might be hurting him and scoot back off of him. He lets you go reluctantly, staring up at you as you go. 
His face is covered in the sheen of your cum, and his eyes are so wide and admiring that you almost want to cry. 
“You're so hot, baby. Perfect little pussy.” He sits up and captures you in his arms, uncaring of the way your weeping pussy gushes against him. 
You kiss him, and all you can taste is you, but you still feel so pleasantly high from cumming that you can’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. As your senses come back you feel his cock beneath you, and despite having just cum, you feel voracious for him to be inside of you. Jungkook kisses the soft spot under your ear and sighs at the contact of your throbbing pussy on him. 
“If you're ready I am, baby. Need to cum in you,” the strain in his voice is obvious and so sexy, the evidence of just how much you affect him. 
You can’t resist kissing him again, sharing the flavor between your tongues as he lays you back down. Although you haven't said anything, he knows your legs are far too tired to do anything but lay down and take it, and he’s more than happy to adjust for that. 
He strokes his cock a few times, spreading his precum down his shaft in a way that has your mouth watering. Your legs fall open easily, never one to deny him or delay your shared pleasure. Jungkook moans appreciatively at the gesture, running his fingers down your slit before slipping two in. 
You writhe at the unexpected contact, sensitive to his touch after cumming so hard on his tongue. Although you understand and appreciate his concern of making sure you're ready for his cock, you feel more than prepared for him after your first orgasm. 
“Please don't fucking tease me right now, I need you.” Jungkook arches a brow at your desperate plea, a shit eating grin sprouting as his fingers stall. 
“You need me that bad, huh? Don’ even need me to stretch out your little pussy?” He knows you can handle him, but the idea of making you admit it has his cock jumping again. 
Your face flames with misplaced embarrassment, knowing exactly what he wants you to admit to. 
“Y-you don’ need to because I came so hard, I-I’m wet enough.” You stutter it out and his smirk widens, proud of himself for making you admit it. 
“My dirty little baby.” He steals another kiss as he guides the tip of his cock to you, running it over your clit until he can't take it anymore. Jungkook presses in slowly and you can see his pretty eyes roll back as he feels your walls envelope him. 
Despite how wet you were, the sheer size of his cock means there’s always a stretch, but you work through it quickly, squeezing your walls around him once he has fully sunk into you. A string of praises falls from your lips as he thrusts into you, barely holding back. His hands squeeze the flesh of your waist as he fucks you, eyes bored onto the place where you connect. 
It’s all you can do to keep from squirming off of the couch in pleasure as he fucks into you with a practiced precision, finding the perfect angle and speed and using it to his advantage to work you up quickly. The sight of him over you is something you never want to be without: lower lip captured between his teeth, hair slicked back with sweat, chest heaving with his effort as his thrusts rock you up the couch cushions. 
When he finally unlatches his bottom lip from between his teeth, he makes the prettiest moans you’ve ever heard, interlaced with praises that make your own chest heave. 
“Shit, you feel so good, my baby. My girl made for me, perfect little pussy that’s just for me.” His hands shake noticeably as he moves them; one to press down over your stomach and keep you in place, the other finding it’s place over your clit. You can tell he’s close when you feel his cock twitch inside of you, and he doubles his efforts by circling your clit with two fingers at a speed that would make your wrist ache. Your hands scramble to grab onto his arms, leaving crescent marks behind where your nails dig into his skin. 
“Right t-there, Kook.” Your eyes roll and all words abandon you as your orgasm rushes in, churning your stomach in knots of pleasure as you moan Jungkook’s name. 
“Got you, baby. Right behind you.” He cums seconds after you, giving short thrusts to pump his cum as far into you as possible. You enjoy the come-down together, gripping each other closely as the world returns. You still feel a bit like your head is underwater when Jungkook gets the energy to pull out of you, but you take his hand when he offers it. One trip to the bathroom later, you’re back where you began your afternoon. 
This time Jungkook’s toned body is backing your own, fingers playing with the hair that splays around you on the sheets. 
“Feeling better?” He asks. You nod, turning to face him. Neither of you bother putting clothes back on before crawling into bed, and you press your bare chest against his own. 
“Good.” He grins and gives you a sweet kiss. “Next time you have a bad dream you let me know.” 
You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You gonna solve every bad dream with a good fuck for the rest of our lives?” 
Jungkook laughs in the way he only does around you and your heart blooms. 
“Sure, if that’s what it takes. Anything for you.” 
3K notes · View notes
btsgotjams27 · 2 months
Text
busted ~ jjk | drabble
Tumblr media
→ title: busted
→ pairing: biker!jungkook x f!reader
→ word count: 851
→ rating: m/18+
→ genre/au: fluff, light smut (?) | slice of life, parents, married
→ warnings: language, jungkook is having a quarter-life crisis, mentions deceased parent (jungkook’s), they have two small children, jokes about cheating, kissing, groping, fingering, breeding kink(?), reader is turned on by jungkook’s outfit, allusions to sex
→ a/n: i can't believe jungkook is giving us writers such good content. ily bby. i apologize to @bngtnbrat & @gguksflowers b/c i didn't give you what you actually wanted LOL. i got lazy and didn't want to write smut. don't hate me.
Tumblr media
"And where did you come from?" You asked, eyeing your husband from head to toe. "And what are you wearing?"
Jungkook jumped back, doe eyes widened, clutching his chest when you turned on the entryway light. "Holy shit, babe–you scared me." He was dressed in black, not unusual for him - but it wasn't his everyday outfit. He donned a moto-style canvas jacket, skinny jeans, and boots.
You stood there with a deadpan expression, arms crossed, waiting for him to answer. You wanted to see how he'd get out of this one.
He looked at his outfit, confused about why you were fussing over it. He was trying to play it cool and keep his seventeen thousand dollar Harley Davidson purchase a secret. "Why aren't you asleep?" He deflected, evading your questions, and he would never hear the end of it now.
You took a step closer to him, squinting at the orange letters etched in his jacket. "Why does it say Harley Davidson on there?" You already knew what Jungkook was up to, but you needed him to verbalize it.
The low rumbling of a motorcycle could be heard from outside when you checked in on your baby boys. Wondering who the hell bought a bike in your neighborhood. Was it your obnoxious neighbor, Taehyung? Did he finally bite the bullet and make the purchase?
When you peeked through the blinds, a person on an all-black motorcycle was sitting in your driveway. Someone must be at the wrong house, you thought. They pulled off the matte black helmet, lightly ruffling their long, dark, wavy locks - revealing it was not a random stranger but your husband. 
Jungkook gently pushed himself off the bike and glanced at the darkened house in front of him. You quickly stepped away from the window, hoping he didn't see you. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and a deep sigh escaped. You told yourself that you wouldn't blow up on him.
Jungkook shrugged. "Just a jacket I bought," he said casually, brushing past you and setting down his backpack.
"Huh--" you turned to him. "Where's your helmet?"
Busted.
He stopped dead in his tracks, beating himself up because you caught him red-handed. Jungkook slowly turned to face you, guilt written all over his face. He knew he couldn't lie anymore. Scratching his temple while dodging your gaze, he muttered, "It's hidden in the bushes."
Taehyung left for the weekend and forgot to give Jungkook the code to his garage. That's where he's been storing his new purchase.
When the two of you started dating, he expressed that owning a motorcycle was a dream of his, but with getting married and having two small children under the age of five - it became a pipe dream. A van was more plausible, not a motorcycle. So Jungkook never brought it up again until his mother passed away. Then there was endless talk about buying his dream bike because life was too short to not buy things that made you happy.
It's not that you didn't want him to have one, you wanted him to have everything he could ever want, but again, the two of you were responsible for little humans now.
"Is that why you've been going out late at night? To ride your bike? Thought you were cheating on me." You were relieved when you discovered it was a bike, not another woman.
He lightly chuckled, holding his arms out for you, bringing you flush against his chest. "I could never cheat on you, baby. You're the only one I want, the only one I'd want to carry my babies," he grinned, peering down at you.
"Kook–don't," you whined when he groped your fleshy cheeks under your oversized shirt. "The kids are sleeping." He was shameless, really, and wanted to fuck you anytime, anywhere.
Was this his way of apologizing for the bike? Fucking you into oblivion?
He connected his mouth to yours, letting his warm tongue find yours. He smiled when he pulled away, causing you to whimper. "Then you gotta be quiet, don't you?"
You broke away from his embrace, playfully hitting him in the chest. "We need to talk about this, you know?" You grumbled, "You're not gonna get away with this."
He chuckled, leaning in and trailing kisses across your jaw, tugging you closer into his frame. "Not gonna get away with what? My bike or you?"
You mewled when his hand found its way into your underwear, lightly touching your already sensitive bud. "Your... bike," you stuttered, eyes fluttering shut at his touch. Jungkook's never been shy regarding affection; he'd always give you hugs and kisses, even with the kids around.
"Can we talk about it later?" He asked, giving open-mouth kisses along your neck, gripping your waist, pressing you against his hardened length.
You had to admit, you liked him in this outfit. Who knew you'd be so turned on by a stupid motorcycle jacket and skinny jeans? God--you're easy.
Jungkook started removing his jacket, but your hands stopped him. "This--stays on." He flashed a shit-eating grin. "Everything stays on." 
3K notes · View notes
venusiangguk · 6 months
Text
the art of yearning- pt 1 | jjk (m)
Tumblr media
>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc
>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst
>>word count: 15.7k 
>>warnings: dom jk, sub oc, age gap, taekook heart to heart, a lot of self-directed negative thoughts from nari’s father </3, jaykay being a dumb man 😕, jaykay needing everything spelled out for him 🙄, tae to the rescue <3, hobi for comedic relief bc jfc 😭 the YEARNING, guilty jerk sesh lets goooo, lots of memories n fantasies <3, omg slight hinting at jk’s subby era!!, 1 finish followed by many regrets n thoughts ~~
>>notes: part 1 of 2 <3 this part is the post-fight happenings from jk’s pov! i split it up bc as we can see it’s already quite long 🥲 pls dont be mad at me <3 i hope u guys are able to understand jk’s reasoning n thought process a lil more after this !! 
this is part of my dilf jk series that can be found on my masterlist
>>summary: jungkook wants you as much as he misses you.
It’s a bit colder than the last time he was here. The air a bit chillier, the wind a little sharper. It’s admittedly been a while. A month, maybe a touch less. Jeongguk hasn’t really been keeping track. 
 Circumstances, like the weather, differ from the last time he was here as well. 
 It shouldn’t still feel like it’s as big of a deal as it does. It shouldn’t still be pressing so heavy on him, and it definitely shouldn’t cross his mind as often as it does when he deliberately does his best not to think about it. About you.
 You said you would think about things, but Jeongguk never said the same. So he truly does not understand why he just cannot keep you out of his head.
 When it’s his week with Nari, it’s not as bad– the thought of you isn’t so nonstop. Her terrible two’s, which really aren’t that terrible, keep him busy. 
 Constantly trying to keep up with her, or running around his home trying to find that damn narwhal that she always seems to misplace, even though he feels like she always has it in her tiny hands. She’s taken it with her everywhere since you got it for her. And there you are again. On his mind, clouding his thoughts. 
 Constantly redoing her pigtails that she yanks out. It’s a new, maybe slightly terrible, habit that she’s picked up. And they’re still always lopsided despite the numerous times you tried to show him how to make them symmetrical. You said something about tugging gently on the tiny sprouts until they were where he wanted them so– There he goes.
 Constantly closing and reclosing the baby gate she’s learned to open in the gym whenever he tries to clear his head by getting a workout in. Exercising does help a small amount when he’s not interrupted by his daughter. And when he doesn’t think about how the smudged handprints on the mirror got there. The ones that he has still yet to clean. Those instances are a bit gross but they aren’t exactly his fault. He doesn’t actively think about you then;  he’s reminded.
 A lot of things seem to remind him of you. 
 Work also keeps him occupied for the most part. Until it doesn’t. 
 Visions of you on your front, against his desk, with your hands cuffed behind your back, interrupt him during his video conferences. The metal part of his chair has scratches on it from where the same cuffs rubbed against it, metal on metal, as he struggled against their hold with you on top of him– his suits get caught on the ridges, the material getting snagged on the raised, uneven metal. Just like you get caught on the ridges of his brain, the memory of you getting snagged on his conscience.
 Jeongguk feels so guilty when he lets his mind wander to you like that.
 But that’s not even the worst of it. It’s even harder when Nari is at Dasom’s. 
 That’s when it really hits him– how intertwined you had become in his life. 
 You’re not there anymore, but you’re still everywhere. 
 You’re in the kitchen when he wakes up to make his morning coffee. In his shirt with sleepy eyes and a hopeless smile on your face as you laugh embarrassed. Telling him in your slightly scratchy morning voice that you had wanted to surprise him with his americano, but you couldn’t figure out the ‘fancy, high-tech’ coffee machine. 
 He can’t even remember how many times he showed you how to work it. You were able to figure out the blender eventually, but the Jura he splurged on seemed to have been a lost cause.
 You’re in his closet when he picks out his clothes; you’re picking out some of his to wear as your own, too. You’re in the articles of clothing you left behind, still taking up space in his dresser just as much as you’re still taking up space in his mind. 
 You’re on the couch with him when he settles down after work, fidgeting because you were never able to sit still for very long. Going back and forth between having your feet tucked underneath you, and outstretched on the recliner. Between having your head in your hand, and in his lap. 
 Jeongguk will say that he’s able to get through a series, a movie, a documentary– much faster, and he’s able to remember the premise a lot better now that he doesn’t have you constantly asking him questions about the plot. Questions you would have found the answer to eventually if you would have just watched. An annoying, yet cute and endearing tendency of yours that he misses more than he thought he would and more than he probably should.
 You’re in the garden too. In the flowers, the colors of the petals match the color of your nails that week. You’re in the grass, resting atop a blanket, head pillowed on your arms, just watching him as he tends to the weeds. You’re in the sun that beats down on his back because it feels warm, exactly like you did.
 A brisk breeze blows Jeongguk out of his thoughts and back to the present. He’s met with the familiar door in front of him. He’s apprehensive as he brings his hand up to knock.
 It opens before he even gets a chance to rap his knuckles against the wood, and he’s face to face with an overly excited, loud person.
 “Hello, my good…” Hoseok’s bright smile drops and his brows pinch in confusion, “singular bitch?” His tone is puzzled as he looks at Jeongguk and then over his shoulder like he’s searching for someone. “Where’s __?”
 Jeongguk sighs quietly, knowing that the questions were inevitably going to come. He RSVP’d you coming with him to Friendsgiving a bit prematurely, even before he asked you, just figuring it would be a given that you would agree and want to join. You were supposed to go with him and–
 He feels a teeny, tiny hand squeeze at his pinky, trying to get his attention. Nari’s eyes are big and round as she looks up at him. Her orange, leaf-shaped hair bow is about to fall out as she babbles a mostly decipherable version of your name, and Jeongguk’s heart chips a little in his chest. Her speech is getting better every day, even if she still babbles in broken phrases. Even if a lot of her words are still hard to pick up on and talking is her last resort. After you left, your name became one of the few words she could say clearly.
 He gives her a gentle, sad smile and shakes his head softly. “Not today, boba.”
 Nari seems mostly unbothered, used to that answer by now, her attention going to the rings on her dad’s fingers. She doesn’t ask about you as much anymore. Only when she’s reminded of you, like just now when Hoseok said your name or that time Jeongguk caved and looked through his photos with her tucked into his side while he thought she was preoccupied with her show on the tv. Maybe you’re starting to fade away in her little baby brain.
 Jeongguk’s attention goes back to his friend, who is standing with a tense smile on his face. “Thanks for that,” he says with a pointed look, walking through the threshold with full hands. 
 Hoseok throws his palms up. “Well how was I supposed to know you and __,” he mouths your name silently, “broke up? You don’t ever even reply to the groupchat anymore.”
 “That is because I have the groupchat muted. Also, we didn’t break up. We were never together,” Jeongguk says matter-of-factly, plucking the bow from Nari’s hair and trying to fix it and put it back in with one hand. He taps the little, lop-sided sprout and says, “Go on, say ‘hi’ to Uncle Hobi.”
 Nari smiles, the tulle bottom of her poofy dress bouncing, her teeny mary janes clicking with each step as she toddles over to her uncle. She extends her pudgy arms, one of her hands holding her narwhal.
 Hoseok crouches, picking up the baby. “Oh my goodness! Look at all those 2-year-old teeth!” His eyes drop to the plush she’s holding by the horn, “And what is th-” 
 Jeongguk interrupts him, shaking his head and making a loud, scolding, AH sound. And when their eyes meet, Hoseok’s are wide and confused, and Jeongguk’s are trying to convey ‘do not’.
 “Okay!” Hoseok carries on swiftly, the same stiff smile still on his face, “Let’s get Daddy to drop off that pie he’s holding, and then you can go see all your cousins and aunties and other less important uncles, hmm?” he coos to Nari, turning to walk towards Namjoon’s kitchen.
 “Jes!” she spouts, nodding in a rather professional manner like the plan is exactly perfect and like they should get right to business. She points towards where she knows the kitchen is with 3 of her baby fingers.
 Jeongguk follows suit smiling softly at his daughter while he simultaneously readies himself to face the onslaught of questions. The ones about where you are, what happened, and who did what. Whose fault it is. If he’s reached out;  if you have. If he regrets it; if he misses you. The sooner he gets that over with, the sooner he can have a glass of wine. Or two.
 Hoseok has other plans, sitting Nari’s butt on the marble countertop, next to the pie that Jeongguk sets down. When Jeongguk looks at him ready to take their leave, Hoseok is looking at the dessert.
 “What the hell is that, JK?”
 Jeongguk’s mouth drops open, before he sniffs, offended. “I made it from scratch and I worked very hard on it and you’re very rude.” He glances at the pie that’s under scrutiny, and will admit (to himself) that it’s not particularly… pretty. But it’s still edible. Probably.
 His friend makes a disgusted face that he doesn’t even try to hide. “Why didn’t you just buy one like we normally do?”
 The whole group rotates what they bring every year, and yes, everyone aside from Yoongi and Taehyung’s wife all provided a store-bought pie when it was their turn. Jeongguk shrugs.
  “You can grill. You can’t bake. You know this,” Hoseok reminds.
 When Jeongguk just stays quiet, Hoseok groans, rolling his eyes. Nari mimes him like a little parrot, her groan tinted with laughter like she thinks she’s the funniest thing in the world. Jeongguk agrees.
 “Don’t tell me–” Hoseok starts.
 “I just didn’t want to go to the grocery store,” Jeongguk interrupts, his voice huffy, even though he tries to sound nonchalant. Like it was completely normal for him to avoid the grocery store he’s been going to regularly for years.
 “Jeongguk,” the elder gripes, “what the fuck is going on?”
 Hoseok whispers the swear word as if that will prevent Nari from hearing it when she’s sat right in front of him and Jeongguk scowls, grabbing his toddler. He’s turning to walk away and talking over his shoulder. “She can still hear it even if you whisper it.”
 Quick footsteps catch up to Jeongguk before they fall into step with him. “Have you just been eating takeaway for–” Hoseok pauses, “however long it’s been? Don’t you care about your spawn’s health?”
 “Don’t call her that and of course, I haven’t,” Jeongguk replies, disgruntled. “I’ve been getting groceries delivered… Yoongi left us some food a couple of times too.”
 “Thank god for Yoongi,” Hoseok says with a roll of his eyes. “Have you been getting them from that place with the ridiculous delivery fee?”
 Jeongguk stays silent once again, adjusting Nari on his hip. Only a couple more feet until they reach the backyard and he can be free from Hoseok’s pestering. 
 “You know just because you have a lot of money and can spend it on stupid things, doesn’t mean you should,” Hoseok says in a rather bored tone before adding, “Also you could have literally gotten a pie delivered.” 
 Jeongguk pauses when they reach the sliding glass door, turning to look at the other. “First of all I tried, they’ve been sold out since Tuesday. Second of all, can we please just drop it? At least for right now?” he asks, a bit quieter. “I’ll tell you later, I just–” He tapers off at the end, his lips pursing.
 Hoseok softens, as he reads Jeongguk. He notes how tired he looks, his eyes dark underneath. The kind of sad twinge the younger’s voice has taken. How his shoulders sag a bit like something’s been weighing him down. And then Hoseok simply gives a nod and a small, slightly apologetic smile. 
 His hand comes to Jeongguk’s shoulder and he squeezes a few times, hoping the gesture comes off reassuring. “You know I’m just messing with you. And that I only ask because I care. Tell us when you want.”
 It’s then that Jeongguk’s reminded why they all have been friends for so long, and why he’s so grateful for them. 
 Although he’s had the groupchat muted, he’s glanced at it. He saw everyone still including him in the conversations even though he never replied. 
 Saw the individual texts from them too. 
 Jimin’s telling him that Solmi misses Nari and that they should have a playdate. Volunteering to host said playdate, to watch the girls for a little while, to let Jeongguk have a break if he needs it. 
 The ‘just checking in on you’ texts from Joon. Simple yet heartfelt messages that were a little too soft to read without his eyes stinging. 
 The offers from Jin and Hoseok to be his workout partners– the ones given despite the fact that everyone knows the older two have done their best to avoid joining Jeongguk at the gym since he picked up his relatively new and exceedingly intense boxing workouts. 
 Yoongi’s straightforward messages. Merely short notes; just quiet reminders that told Jeongguk a lot more than to remember to bring in the food Yoongi left by the door, to be quick so the bugs don’t get to it. I’ll take care of you, but remember to take care of yourself too.
 Taehyung’s ‘wyd’ texts, followed by a game invite on the Xbox that Jeongguk’s been playing more often than he’d liked to admit. He never pushed when Jeongguk declined, even though he could see him online.
 Hoseok opens the sliding glass door for them, and everyone’s heads turn to look. And it would be funny, the way that everyone’s smiles turn a little confused. If said smiles didn’t precede inquiries.
 “Where’s __?” 
 Jeongguk loves his friends, but it’s going to be a long night.
 ~~~
 The fancy outdoor patio lamps on Namjoon’s deck double as heaters and keep Jeongguk from shivering in the late autumn air as he sips that glass of wine he promised himself. A red that’s a hint more bitter than what he usually likes, but it seems fitting. 
 Maybe he’s a bit dramatic. And maybe he’s wallowing. 
 But he blames it on the alcohol. Doesn’t acknowledge that he’s been down, off, for a while. About a month, maybe a touch less.
 He moves his gaze from the red he’s absently swirling in his glass to the house, peering in from the outside. Sees all the kids playing in the living room, some of the adults on the couch by the fire, some in the kitchen still picking at the leftovers that Namjoon’s fiancée is trying to put away. That’s a recent development that came as no surprise, and Jeongguk’s happy for Namjoon and Hyesoo, but he wishes he could be happier. 
 One of Taehyung’s twins has Nari on their back, her hands gripping tightly in the floppy mop of hair on the boy's head. Jeongguk smiles softly to himself when he sees her mouth open and her eyes turn into tiny, little half-moons as she laughs. He closes his own briefly, tries to hear her baby giggles in his head. When he opens them again, his view is cut off by the twins’ dad.
 The bottle in Taehyung’s hand is full and the same kind that’s in the glass Jeongguk’s been nursing. He's holding another for himself as well. He stays quiet for a while as he stands behind the seat across from Jeongguk.
 “We’re gonna pull names for Secret Santa soon,” Taehyung eventually states.
 Jeongguk inhales deeply before blowing out like he’s readying himself to be around the rest of the gang again. His breath makes the few out-of-place strands of hair that have fallen across his forehead flutter, his hairstyle now messy from his hands running through it one too many times. Then he nods. “Alright. Should probably head inside then.”
 Taehyung mirrors his nod with a contemplative look. “Or we could just chat for a while. Make the kids practice patience for once.”
 “We could,” Jeongguk agrees easily, a barely-there grin on his lips. Maybe because he doesn’t want to go inside. Maybe because he knows his friend will quote-unquote, make him talk about what happened. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t think talking through everything would help alleviate some of the ache.
 The older boy looks like he gets himself comfortable, taking a seat and pulling the cork from the bottle. He tops off Jeongguk’s glass and while he’s filling his own he says, “Why’d you end things with her?”
 Jeongguk falters briefly, the wine glass pausing right before it reaches his lips. “You don’t know it was me that cut it off.”
 He gets a shrug in response. “I suppose. But if we’re going off track records, it’s you that has a bad one.” Taehyung snickers when Jeongguk scowls at him.
 Jeongguk clicks his tongue as he takes another, bigger sip. “Fair, I guess…” he amends, but doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he just sighs. “I don’t know. She’s too young. Or maybe I’m too old. Maybe the places that we’re at in life are just too different.” He doesn’t say it, but he thinks that he may be too far ahead and that he’s not sure if you would have been able to catch up because that’s just the way that time works. “Either way, it doesn’t matter.”
 “Did she somehow get younger since the barbeque? Because it didn’t seem like it bothered you then?” Taehyung asks with a chuckle before adding, “Also, 7 years isn’t even that big of an age difference. I think the thing that might make you feel like it’s a bigger deal than it is, is the fact that there is such a drastic difference in your careers… ” 
 He ponders quietly for a second before he decides to tack on, “Which is okay, you’re allowed to be cautious about that kind of stuff. If I made as much as you, I would too,” Taehyung puts a humble hand to his chest, a soft laugh falling from his lips. The hand he raises is modest because he does very well for himself, right on par with Jeongguk and they both know it. “But I also hope you know that it’s normal for her to not know what she wants to do at her age. Not everyone is like you and Dasom were.”
 The way Jeongguk’s cheeks turn to a faint hue of pink at the mention of the barbeque is an involuntary reaction, and he presses his eyes shut to try and fight off the wave of embarrassment. But little snapshot memories of you play against his lids like a montage– you in the water talking with Jin’s wife, at the edge of the pool with aioli on your bottom lip. In the chair next to him with Nari sleeping in your lap, in the bathroom with flushed cheeks, and him between legs. In his hands, in his arms, in his heart. 
 He revels in it, lets himself miss you for just a moment. 
 “___ met her by the way. Dasom, I mean. That was the– catalyst? The thing that got the ball rolling, I guess?” Jeongguk states softly, like he’s not sure if he chose the right words. He’s trying for an air of nonchalance, his eyes flicking downcast as his tattooed fingers toy with the stem of his glass. 
 “And that never really bothered me surprisingly. Like her job…” he adds with a half-hearted shrug. “But you’re right. It’s okay that she doesn’t know what she wants to do career-wise yet…” He watches a droplet of condensation run down the curve of the glass until it drops, the moisture making the wood of the table a few shades darker.
 “But that was just another factor. The not knowing that came with her being so much younger. I think she thought that she knew what she wanted. Thought that she wanted to be with me.” He shrugs again, a small, slightly sad smile on his face. 
 “I’m not sure she knew what being with a divorced father would actually entail, or that she would have still wanted it if she did. I couldn’t let her trap herself, no matter how much I wanted her to stay. It would have just led to resentment and regret. And I wouldn’t have been able to handle her hating me.” He glances at Taehyung briefly before he looks away. “We just had a wake-up call, I guess. A bit of a reality check.” 
 Taehyung winces sympathetically. “I can see how your current girlfriend meeting your baby mama could make things a smidge tense, and cause you to really think things over, maybe take a break… But enough for you to completely end things?”
 Jeongguk doesn’t bother correcting Taehyung. Just shakes his head. “It was always going to…” He pauses, thinks to himself quietly. End doesn’t feel like the right word because you and him never really began. “Stop…” he settles on saying. “If it wasn’t Nari’s mom, it would have been something else, you know? The wake-up call would have come eventually. And sooner is better than later.”
 “Wait back up…” Taehyung’s eyes roam like he’s trying to make sense of what Jeongguk is saying and his previous statement is just now registering. “But she said she wanted to be with you?” he clarifies.
 Jeongguk nods, takes a sip of wine.
 “And you wanted to be with her?”
 Jeongguk gives another, more stilted nod. “I mean, yeah…? But like I said, it just wouldn’t have worked –for a number of reasons– and we had a wake-up call.”
 “Okay,” Taehyung shuts his eyes and shakes his head along with his hands, trying to shush his friend. “Forget about this alleged wake-up call and your reasons for like two seconds,” he says.
 Jeongguk sits quietly across from him.
 “So you’re telling me she blatantly said she wanted to be with you–” He places one hand on the table, palm up before continuing. “–and that you wanted to be with her–” He places his other hand on top of his first, interlocking his fingers as if he’s putting two and two together. “–but you ended things, basically made her decision for her–” He jerks his hands apart dramatically, with an explosive gesture. “–because you think she doesn’t know what she wants?”
 A brief lull in the conversation ensues. 
 “Among other things,” Jeongguk quips eventually with pinched brows. He feels a bit small like he’s being scolded.
 Taehyung’s head tilts back, and he takes a deep breath before speaking in a very parent-esque tone like he’s trying to explain something to a child. “Jeongguk, you cannot do that. You have got to let people make their own decisions.”
 Jeongguk does not appreciate the intonation and he shows as much by narrowing his eyes. 
 “So ___ met your ex, who probably manipulated the situation to her liking,” Jeongguk opens his mouth to defend the mother of his child –it’s a habit at this point– but Taehyung cuts him off with a raised hand and a roll of his eyes. “The woman literally twists and manhandles situations for a living, please save your ‘Dasom’s not a bad person, she’s not a bad mom’ lecture.” 
 Taehyung’s known Dasom for a long time and while he’s never really been her biggest fan, even he will acknowledge that part of her, the part that’s calculating and crafty with words, is a skill just as much as it’s a flaw. It always instilled an unsettled, almost disturbed, awe in him when he caught glimpses of how she was able to spin things to get her way and gain control over situations. It made her an incredible lawyer; it allowed her to excel in her field and advance her career incredibly fast. 
 And he’s well aware that Dasom has a right, to some extent as Nari’s mother, to question who Jeongguk brings around their daughter. But he also knows she can be dramatic, calculative, and quite cruel at times. He doesn’t doubt that seeing someone new in her old home with her ex-husband put her on the defensive… Made her lash out, blow things out of proportion, and use that skill of hers to put thoughts into Jeongguk’s head, and potentially yours too, to attain the upper hand again. 
 In all honesty, when Taehyung looks at it from an unbiased, objective point of view… He’s not sure he can even blame Jeongguk’s ex. Even if he is harsh for the simple fact that he’s Jeongguk’s best friend and does think that Dasom likely exaggerated the points of whatever she said– it’s not hard to gather that the entire situation was shit all around, and everyone involved was caught off guard. 
 The natural tension that comes with unexpected and unfamiliar situations probably caused everyone to act in ways they typically wouldn’t. Words harsher, actions meaner, outcomes more drastic. The damage done to all parties by all parties was most likely unintentional, albeit extreme. 
 But he says what he says, and promptly carries on with his point. “So she met your lawyer ex, and you told her she doesn’t know what she wants…” Taehyung finishes as if he’s keeping a mental tab of everything that went wrong. “And then ___ just… left?”
 “It was slightly more intense and painful and complicated than that,” Jeongguk replies in a defensive tone, “but essentially I guess? I mean I told her I wasn’t going to let her stay so what else was she going to do? I didn’t really give her much of a choice.”
 Taehyung’s face falls, and he chooses to ignore how easily the words fall from Jeongguk’s lips; almost like they don’t fully register.  “Please tell me you didn’t actually say that to her. That you ‘wouldn’t let her stay’.” 
 Jeongguk stays silent once more, a miffed expression overtaking his features this time.
 “Jesus, Gguk.” Taehyung pinches the bridge of his nose, looks like he’s in actual pain because of Jeongguk’s actions. “Have you talked to her since?” 
 The younger one deflates, his irritation transitions quickly and smoothly to dejection. “Kinda. She left in the middle of the night really upset… like crying. And we– she was probably tired… Then add the stress of Dasom showing up–” 
 He winces to himself, remembering the state you were in. He wasn’t much better off, but still, he feels bad because– “I knew all of that and I still let her leave. Obviously? Right? Because I was the one that told her to go?” He looks confused, like he’s trying to make sense of his past actions and what he was feeling at that moment because it doesn't quite make sense now. 
 “Anyway, I got really worried and I impulsively texted her, asking if she made it home safe…” After a tense pause, he tacks on: “She didn’t reply.” Like it’s an afterthought.
 “And neither would I if someone said the things you said to her, to me,” Taehyung says with a flat stare.
 “Who’s side are you on?” The questioned reply sounds whiny, maybe slightly begging.
 “Yours!” Taehyung exclaims, “We are all Team Jeongguk except Jeongguk.”
 The notes of the conversation have been a bit melancholic for obvious reasons, but it’s more or less remained easy to manage. However, as Jeongguk holds Taehyung’s stare for a few long moments he feels a wonted, recognizable ache begin to stop up his voice. He looks away with a shake of his head. “You don’t get it. You don’t know everything that happened, or how it felt to get rid of her when she was–”
 Cutting himself off is a consequence of the lump in his throat. That familiar, ordinarily tender ache growing until he can’t get around it anymore. 
 “Then tell me,” Taehyung stresses, adding a pleading edge to his words. “Explain to me what happened, describe how it felt to cut her out. When she was what? Spell it out for me,” he requests. 
 Sure he wants to know, but he’s mainly trying to keep Jeongguk talking. Trying to get him to work through the false narratives he has in his head for why he ended things with you, while he explains them to him.
 Jeongguk’s brooding; ruminating as he tries to sort his thoughts. Surface level– they're easy, simple questions when he thinks about them easily and simply. When he contemplates them in superficial ways. 
 What happened? He cut you out.  
 How did it feel to cut you out? It hurt. 
 What were you to him that made it hurt when he cut you out? The basic, most elementary explanation would be that you were someone he cared about and someone he wanted to keep. 
 It's simple enough to explain, easy enough to understand when he describes it superficially.
 But when he digs deeper, thoroughly reflects– it’s not as easy. It’s quite the contrary. 
 Because with depth comes intricacies that are so weighted and hold so much gravity that it makes them too difficult and complex to explain. They are too personal and intimate and special to describe to someone who just isn’t privy. 
 Jeongguk couldn’t even figure it out. Even he wasn’t able to grasp, couldn’t comprehend, wasn’t able to figure out a way to make you and him simple; him and you easy enough to just work. 
 And if he couldn’t understand it– he’s not convinced he’ll be able to break it down and simplify it enough to elucidate it to someone who doesn’t know you as he did, someone who didn’t get to experience you the way he got to. 
 Because it’s all so much bigger than ‘cutting’ and ‘hurting’ and ‘caring’ and ‘wanting’.
 Jeongguk gives Taehyung the plainest, most straightforward explanation that he can muster. “It hurt to cut her out because I cared about her and I wanted her. But I had to.”
 “If you wanted her, why didn’t you let yourself have her?” Taehyung asks, his voice inquisitively puzzled and laced with empathetic pity.  “Why did you have to?” 
 “It was never supposed to be serious,” Jeongguk snaps, his voice vexed and short, like he’s irritated that he has to explain because it should be obvious. “We were never supposed to get as involved or like– as invested as we did. That wasn’t part of the plan–”
 Taehyung retaliates and makes his voice sharp to match. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Jeongguk. Was the divorce not enough for you to realize that plans don’t mean shit? Was that not enough for you to see that even literal years of planning won’t keep something from falling apart?”
 The shift in the atmosphere could be felt even as he was still speaking. Now that he’s done and it's quiet, the tension is palpable and Taehyung knows he’s so incredibly close to overstepping. He can tell Jeongguk is trying to keep himself calm. The younger has his hands curled into tight fists and he does that tick– the one where he subtly jerks his head to the side, jutting his jaw out firmly. But still, Taehyung continues, although he treads a bit more carefully this time. 
 His voice is quiet and he’s talking at a slower pace than normal like he’s trying to ease Jeongguk into his next point. “Was having a baby to save your marriage part of your plan?”
 It’s not a laugh; the sound that leaves his lips can’t be classified as that– but Jeongguk barks out something. Maybe a scoff? A cackle? Taehyung can’t be sure, but it's an irate, sarcastic, scary thing that lets him know that Jeongguk is fuming, just shy of being absolutely done with him and his shit.
 “Tae, I promise you that if you do not think before you open your fucking mouth again–”
 Taehyung winces and raises his hands in both surrender and defense like he’s trying to placate Jeongguk while also trying to protect himself. “Please– just let me finish?”
 Jeongguk says nothing– the lividity coloring his features is telling enough. And Taehyung should probably do the same: Say nothing and heed the verbal and gestural warnings. Should probably read the room. 
 Naturally, he does not. Instead, choosing to tentatively continue.
 “Was having a baby to save your marriage part of your plan? No. It wasn’t. But!” Taehyung rushes the words out, using the conjunction as a way to let Jeongguk know that he still has more to say and a chance to redeem himself.
  “But– it also didn’t ruin anything. Something happening that isn’t part of the original plan, doesn’t automatically mean the new outcome is going to end up bad.” Taehyung watches Jeongguk’s scowl intensify, but he also sees how his clenched fists lose some of the tension, the veins and tendons becoming more subtle under his tattooed skin. 
 “You ended up with the best thing that’s ever happened to you because things didn’t go according to plan,” Taehyung reiterates, his voice soft, yet stern. 
 There’s a decent lull in the flow of the conversation; enough time for Jeongguk to speak up. Taehyung decides to continue when he doesn’t. 
 “Make all the plans you want, Jeongguk. But you will never be able to plan for everything. It’s impossible because there’s no way for you to know what’s going to happen.” He gives him another chance to say something, but Jeongguk’s lips are pressed in a stubborn line and his jaw is clenched. 
 Taehyung begins again, “You can make all the plans you want but most, if not all, of them, aren’t going to go the way you thought they would or the way you thought you wanted. They’re going to deviate in some way or another because you were planning for something uncertain and constantly changing.”
 “There’s a chance that some of the outcomes will be bad, and that they will hurt so fucking bad. It could end up being the worst thing that ever happens to you. And I get being scared of that. I get why you want to plan, and why you have this ‘one or the other/all or nothing/black and white' mindset. I know it feels safer and like you have more control,” Taehyung sympathizes. 
 “But you have to acknowledge that there’s also a chance that an unplanned outcome can be better than an intended one. It could be the best thing that ever happens to you. It could be a ‘Nari’ outcome.” Taehyung tries for an encouraging smile. “___ might be one of those ‘plans’ that don’t go the way you mean for it to but end up resulting in something better. But you won’t ever know if you don’t let go of some of that control and just let things happen.”
 The sentiment Jeongguk is left with is a bruising, taxing one. It’s making his throat tight and swallowing Taehyung’s notions, a chore. He’s blinking back heavy, angry tears, because he knows that what his friend is saying makes sense. He also knows that it doesn’t really change much of anything because he already let you go.
 “I know that I can’t control everything and that I can’t predict every single outcome,” Jeongguk starts, “But I have to think about things long-term. If I can prevent certain things from occurring, or even encourage some, by planning… Then I have to at least make an effort to. For Nari’s sake.”
 “Well obviously you think long-term about the big picture,” Taehyung agrees. He’s a father too, after all. “But you have to be willing to compromise and adapt along the way. It doesn’t have to be completely all or nothing or as extreme as you think it does. You can change your mind as things happen. Choices aren’t contracts. You can have a change of heart and you can change the quote-unquote, plan.”
 Jeongguk feels his stomach drop at the last part of Taehyung’s statement, feels a little sick actually– so he bypasses it completely, acts like he doesn’t hear it. Instead, he says, “I didn’t do that with ___. Looking back, it feels like I didn’t think about anything long term when I was with her.”
 Taehyung looks at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
 “It was like everything was only as big as her. I only thought ahead when I was thinking about the next time I would see her. I stopped planning and being responsible and I started overlooking what should have been important and–” Jeongguk’s mouth opens and closes a few times like he’s trying to find the words but he ends up just shaking his head, his voice quiet when he goes with, “It was like I wanted her so badly that I got consumed by her because everything felt so good and I was so happy… I didn’t think about anything else. Didn’t think about Nari, I didn’t think about __… I didn’t even think about my future self.”
 Jeongguk’s elbows find their place on the table and he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, before scrubbing his hands down his face, tired and defeated looking when he glances up again. “I forgot that I had priorities like–  I have a baby, a tiny person that is directly dependent on me for everything. I– I can’t just do that.” 
 “Also, I was being so selfish the whole time,” he transitions in an almost panicky tone. He’s rambling, ranting perhaps, with a self-directed, humorless laugh, “And it was so easy to be that way and get lost in her because of how she was. She was so good, Tae. Like carefree, and sweet, and so giving. She made everything so–” 
 His words get cut short. Caught on his heart that’s ballooning; swelling so big in his chest. Filling his pleural cavity with this contrite guilt that’s so sharp it cuts through his brain fog and he becomes so miserably aware of the fact that maybe it was so easy for him to be so selfish –so thoughtless– with you was due to you being so ready and so willing to give him everything– without asking for anything in return. 
 He didn’t have to give to get –and he didn’t mean to, he didn’t do it consciously– but he ended up just taking and taking and taking. 
 The epiphanic dawning makes it sound raw, almost choked when he gets out, “–just so much better and easier.”
 “Gguk–” Taehyung tries.
 “God I was so fucking selfish– like so careless with her,” he repeats. Sounds kind of shocked, surprised with himself. “Like– I knew I had no intention of keeping her. Even if I ended up wanting to, I knew. I always knew I wouldn’t let myself have her like that. And still,” He stresses the word and squeezes his eyes shut and just barely shakes his head, “I still intertwined our lives together so seamlessly and I still–” 
 The atmosphere is heavy and there’s an air of disappointment cloaking Jeongguk’s thoughts and admissions. It’s undeniable that the chagrin is self-directed; displeased with himself not only because of how irresponsible he feels he was –with you and his daughter– but also because of how he’s let the whole situation deplete him. How he let himself get so fixated that he’s only just now recognizing, or maybe admitting, his faults. How he allowed the situation to evolve into something so much bigger and heavier than it should have; exhausting him. 
 Taehyung, who finishes off his glass of wine during the pregnant pause, looks across the table and holds Jeongguk’s gaze for a fleeting moment before he’s shrugging. His tone is listless, lackadaisical as he says, “I don’t think you were being selfish. You said it yourself: You were happy with her. She was happy with you.”
 Jeongguk sits there, flabbergasted and at a loss for words. It feels like he’s falling apart, maybe close to dying even– yet across from him his best friend looks almost bored? Maybe not bored, but stoically calm? Aloof? 
 And Jeongguk knows he’s being sensitive and dramatic and he knows it’s not Taehyung that’s becoming hyperconscious of his past mistakes, but aloof isn’t exactly the reaction he expected after more or less having a breakdown. Jeongguk takes a moment, gathers himself just to become confused again when he catches up to Taehyung’s words. 
 He asks his friend if he means what he said about not thinking that Jeongguk was selfish. Can’t fathom how Taehyung couldn’t see the selfishness of his actions, how he can find him blameless in the situation; when he, himself feels his self-interest was blatant.
 “Based on what you told me, I think you portrayed a lot of…” The older one pauses, eyes looking skyward like he’s searching for the right word. It kind of seems like he’s settling, trying to soften the blow, when he says “...unbecoming qualities.” 
 His shoulders slump at Taehyung’s words, but Jeongguk now deems that he doesn’t need to know how his friend can find him blameless because his friend simply doesn’t. 
 Not that Jeongguk can blame him. 
 “But I don’t think selfishness was one of them because I don't think it’s selfish to prioritize happiness,” he states. “It’s the universal pursuit– everyone wants it…” He squints at Jeongguk, his expression mildly captious. “If anything I think you were more selfish when you ended things.”
 A soft, unbelieving scoff leaves Jeongguk's lips before he can stop it. He recovers by shaking his head. His fingers extend, and he waves his hands around a little like he’s frustrated. “I ended it for her. So she could be free–”
 “So you wanted her to be ‘free’,” Taehyung wiggles his fingers, air-quoting. “but not the kind of ‘free’ where she’s ‘free’ to make her own decisions?”
 “I–” Jeongguk’s mouth snaps shut. He flounders a little before he gives up and settles into a malcontent frown.
 “Do you see what I’m getting at?” Taehyung asks, his tone slightly parental again. Sounds mostly patient, if not, just edging on short.
 Jeongguk’s reply is headstrong silence.
 “You completely snubbed her and overlooked what she wanted to do what you wanted because you thought it was selfless and the right thing–”
 “I didn’t want to–”
 “But you must have?” Taehyung says, his palms open and gesturing in front of him like the proof is plain to see, like it’s right there on the empty table between them. He’s tried to stay patient, keep that calm tolerance. But he’s just over how dreadfully dense his friend is being. His tone is no longer just edging on short– Taehyung’s past that. It’s almost malicious and instigative when he snaps, “Because if you didn’t want to, Jeongguk, then why did you do it?” 
 Jeongguk’s nostrils flare slightly as he tries to not lash out as he counters, “I already told you–”
 “Yeah, you told me a whole bunch of bullshit excuses for not trying.”
 An offended, indignant gasp is the only comeback Jeongguk can give before Taehyung is ranting again, talking over him.
 “Okay,” His gestures go from exasperated to pacifying as he bares his palms to Jeongguk, almost like he’s surrendering. He’s not, of course, but he’ll admit that was a bit harsh. “As I said earlier, I get it. Like yeah. I get being hesitant, I get being scared. I get you feeling guilty for the way that things played out. Those are all totally valid feelings; ways to… act?” 
 Taehyung thinks, then grins when he comes up with a better word. “Those are all valid ways to behave in this situation.” He nods to himself as if he’s his audience and he’s encouraging himself because he’s giving the best speech known to man. 
 “But some emotions and behaviors are not valid in this situation. Entitlement, for one. It’s my opinion that you must have been emoting this quite generously considering how you were acting like it was your right to disregard her. Her feelings, her choices, her wants,” Taehyung points to a finger every time he lists something of yours that Jeongguk overlooked, and Jeongguk shirks in on himself a little more each time. In his head, he sniffs, turns his nose up at Taehyung’s opinion.
 “Self-righteousness. You know a lot. You may even know more, and better than her about certain things, but not all things. You don’t know everything. Jeongguk does not know what __ wants. Jeongguk does not know what is best for ___. Jeongguk may have an opinion on it, but only ___ knows that. What you think is right, isn’t always what is right. Consider what you were coming off as. As a pretentious, arrogant, self-righteous ass. And for what?”
 When Jeongguk parts his lips to speak, to at least try and defend himself, because jesus fucking christ, Taehyung interrupts him. 
 “For nothing. You’re not the standard.”
 “Alright–”
 “Pusillanimity.”
 Jeongguk purses his lips and allows himself to be talked over, once again, as he shifts feebly in his seat. Wonders when Taehyung's vocabulary became so extensive and mean.  
 “You’re allowed to feel scared, but you’re not allowed to behave like a pussy about it–”
 “I resent that–”
 “–as you should,” Taehyung says without missing a beat, smoothly transitioning back to what he was saying. “You’re being a coward, Gguk. Like point-blank. Taking the easy way out and pushing her away because you’re too afraid to take a risk. Because you don’t have the courage to choose her and try.” His expression is sad, dressed with muted disappointment, maybe a glimmer of pity. “And I guarantee that when you chose easy instead of choosing her– it hurt her. She’s the one you were trying to take care of, but she’s the one you ended up hurting. And you hurt yourself.”
 Taehyung can see how much self-inflicted pain Jeongguk brought on himself when he hurt you. He’s sure it hurt him in the moment too, but retrospectively, it’s written so transparently on Jeongguk’s face. Brows are pinched, mouth slightly parted, shallow exhales puffing out like Taehyung’s words knocked the wind out of him and he’s trying to catch his breath again.
 He shakes his head helplessly, whispers, “I didn’t mean to.”
 “I know you didn’t, and I think she probably knows that too,” Taehyung consoles. 
 He considers leaving it at that, not wanting to come off more lecture-y than he already has. Feels a little bad about being so hard on the younger, too. But he also feels like Jeongguk has so thoroughly convinced himself that he did the right thing. That Jeongguk has done such a good job of gaslighting himself, that he daftly believes ending things with you was for the best. That ending wasn’t just the only conclusion, but it was an unavoidable conclusion. 
 Taehyung wonders if maybe Jeongguk is the one that needs things broken down and spelled out for him to get that he could have done things differently. That if he made alternate choices, there could have been an alternate ending where he didn’t break his own heart. 
 “Jeongguk, you’re a such great dad to Nari. She’s never going to doubt how much you care or how important she is to you because loving her is the thing you're best at,” Taehyung waits just a second before he adds in a gentle voice, “But you’re not just a really great dad, and you’re allowed to prioritize and love other things… other people.”
 Jeongguk starts to shake his head, an argument on the tip of his tongue. Ready to tell Taehyung that of course he’s allowed to love other things and other people. He knows this.
 That wasn’t the issue with you. He knew that with time the desire he had for you likely would have blossomed into something more. If he chose to– he probably could have loved you. Could have kept you for himself, selfishly, just as he wanted to. He could have indulged in you, could have let himself be smothered in everything that came with you. He could have loved you eagerly, and he knows he could have loved you so perfectly. 
 Maybe. 
 With time, probably.
 If he was just a touch more greedy than he is, he might have allowed himself.
 The issue with you was that he got so immersed in and preoccupied with you that he lost sight of everything else. Let himself get distracted and act in ways that, as a father, he just couldn’t. So while he could have allowed himself to love you, he couldn’t allow himself to become irresponsible. He tells Taehyung as much. 
 “Gguk, that’s just what happens when you find something new to care about. It’s exciting and it feels good,” Taehyung explains gently, “You fuck up and end up making a few mistakes because you’re a little caught up and preoccupied. Your priorities get skewed because there’s something else that’s becoming important to you too, and you haven’t learned how to manage it.” 
 “And yeah, you might get selfish and a little consumed. Immersed. But that’s normal, not irresponsible, and you have to cut yourself some slack while you figure out how to make time for it and work it into your life.”
 There’s a glassiness gleaming in Jeongguk’s eyes, heavy tears welling until there’s just too many. The drops trek freely despite his efforts to keep them in, his cheeks sticky and salty, his nose runny and red, and his shoulders shaking as he attempts to stay collected. 
 It’s quiet and he stutters a little as he gets out, “I-it didn’t feel like this with D–” A deep, guilty shame makes it hard to get her name out.
 Jeongguk doesn’t even try to finish, persisting with, “I’m just s-scared I’m gonna fuck up again, like I did w-” A watery, frustrated groan cuts him off and he puts his hands over his face when he can’t finish his sentence again because of his cries. Like I did with Dasom. Like I’ve already done, and am still doing with you. 
 “Gguk,” Taehyung laughs, trying to lighten the mood, “There’s an adjustment period and it’ll take a bit of trial and error, but you’ll find a new balance.”
 “___ can be important to you at the same time that Nari is important to you at the same time that Dasom is important to you at the same time that you’re important to you. Caring about one thing doesn’t mean that you suddenly begin caring about another thing less. You just care about them in different ways.”
 Jeongguk is trying to compose himself, keeps taking those deep, slightly hiccupy, self-soothing breaths. Holding them in, before blowing them out harshly. Taehyung knows Jeongguk’s almost at his breaking point but he only has a bit left to say.
 “Maybe ___ didn’t know all of the stuff that comes with being with someone who has a kid, and an ex, and a past. Maybe she didn’t fully know what she wanted because of that. But you know what you should have done instead of pushing her away?” he asks gently, “You should have explained it to her. Told her the bad and the good. Because of course, it’s a lot; it’s really, really tough. But it’s also so rewarding, and a privilege.”
 Jeongguk is growing weepier with each passing minute, but he gives a sorry, sapped nod just to show Taehyung he’s listening. 
 “After explaining it to her, you should have given her time to think about it, weigh the pros and cons. You should have waited for her to make her own choice. Then you should have considered what would’ve been best for both of you, what would make you both happiest. From there, you should have decided on the next step together. And then you should have tried.”
 His leg is bouncing under the table and he twists one of the few rings on his fingers. He’s trying to keep his composure but the more Taehyung explains things to him, the more regretfully obtuse Jeongguk feels. 
 Because he very well might be all the things Taehyung said he was– but he is a good version of them. He swears it. And he knows it doesn’t really make sense; that it’s almost impossible to be a good type of entitled and self-righteous. That it’s not believable that his cowardly and pusillanimous actions came from a good place. But to him– they did. He knows what his intentions were, and he knows that they were so pure. That he did what he did because he cared about you. 
 Admitting he was scared, acknowledging that the fear he felt was pure cowardice, is the least he can do. 
 But in his defense, he just didn’t want to learn what it was to have you, just to end up losing you. He didn’t want to discover how it felt to be loved by you, only for that feeling to get replaced with your resentment. He didn’t want to wholly understand the bliss of you being with him when you were there and present, only to forget it once he came to understand the ache of you leaving; when you were gone. 
 Now, however, he sees that he fucked up. Can see how narrow-minded he was. How his actions, no matter the intent, didn’t come across the way he wanted. That the outcome didn’t go as he planned. 
 He’s able to recognize that if a plan can stray and an outcome can change– there can be infinite endings. Good ones, bad ones. Realizes that if pain is possible, so is bliss. Understands that sadness and happiness go hand in hand and that if there’s a chance for one, there’s a chance for the other. 
 It’s kind of black and white, all or nothing, one or the other in its own way. In a way that Jeongguk hasn’t fully grasped yet, but in a way that he wants to try and learn.
 The consequences of his actions and mistakes can be felt physically. It’s a visceral ache, an apologetic longing, an emptiness within him– and it seems like it never goes away. Like there’s this void inside of him that can’t be filled. Like an essential piece of him is lost and has gone missing, leaving a hollow vacancy behind his ribs until he finds it again. 
 He knows it’s melodramatic; that things end between people that care about each other, that they get over it, and that they move on. It happens all the time. Every single day. He knows– because he cared about Dasom, wanted her– and still, he watched his marriage fall apart right in front of him. 
 Jeongguk’s never compared you to her or her to you, and he doesn’t start now. But, he does liken the want; tries to differentiate between the way he wanted her and the way he wants you. 
 Because it’s the same feeling. Want. 
 But it’s distressing; so confusing because he can’t wrap his head around the same fucking feeling not feeling the fucking same. 
 It almost instills an anxious uncertainty within him; causes him to question himself a little because he believed he had a good understanding of what it is to want, of how it feels to desire. An understanding of what comes with all the feelings that are akin, too.​​ What it feels like to lust after, to crave, to yearn for, to long for, to wish for.
 But apparently, he doesn’t.
 Maybe never did.
 Because it seems that the only thing he’s sure of now, when it comes to want, is that wanting Dasom didn’t feel like wanting you does. With you –the want, the desire, the yearning– it’s so different.
 Come to think of it, Jeongguk wouldn’t be surprised if that novel distinction played a part in his hesitance; that it had something to do with why he pushed you away, why he chose to never let himself have you. 
 Somehow, you turned feelings he thought he truly understood into feelings that had a sense of ambiguity to them. Feelings that he was suddenly so unaccustomed to that they seemed almost alien –in that anxiety-riddled self-doubting way– because it felt like he had no experience with them, had no idea how to even begin to approach the different that was you. 
 Taehyung told him he was being a coward. And Jeongguk admitted that yes; he was being a coward. Internally confessed that he was scared to lose you. But as things are falling into place, finally clicking for him, he thinks that the cowardice might have also stemmed from a fear of having you because he didn’t know how to. 
 Because while you were fresh and exciting –making Jeongguk so brash and so eager– that newness subsequently made you so unlike what he was comfortable with and sure about –simultaneously making Jeongguk so reluctant and so scared. 
 Only because different is new and it’s strange and it can seem alienating. Different is simply unfamiliar and anything unfamiliar is always a little, maybe a lot scary. Naturally intimidating and unnerving. 
 He comes to the conclusion that it’s not a comparison. The want. It can’t be, really, because he has nothing to compare it to. He’s never known an appetency as unique as the one he has for you. 
 The varying wants he’s come across during his life and relationships can’t be compared, but they can be different. And they so clearly are, that Jeongguk’s inability to make sense of it is almost embarrassing. His friend telling him that it’s possible for him to care about things in different ways comes to the forefront of his mind. 
 “You can… want things… differently?” 
 Jeongguk feels stupid, so thickheaded because he’s asking for assurance and clarification about concepts that are supposed to be common sense. He wonders when he let his way of thinking get so off-kilter and how many preventable fuck-ups he’s made because of it.
 “Obviously and most definitely.”
 The sheer amount of thinking he’s had to do, and the inordinate number of thoughts he’s had to comb through are taunting him with a headache. Dull pounding edging at his psyche; his mental and emotional capacity almost running on empty. Yet, he’s not sure he could shut his mind off even if he wanted to. 
 He’s on the cusp of it. So close to putting the pieces together. On the brink of figuring out the riddle of you and him that seemed cruelly unsolvable; like a sick joke with no punchline.
 Jeongguk knows that he wanted Dasom. He knows what they had was good, fulfilling, and comfortable in its own way. But in that same breath, he knows that while it may have been good, it was never blissful; that it may have been fulfilling, but it never made him feel full; that even though it may have been comfortable, it never felt warm. He doesn’t regret it, but he doesn’t miss it either. He doesn’t want it anymore; hasn’t for what seems like ages.
 When it came to wanting you– Jeongguk didn’t know until he learned. 
 Of course, he knew that what you had was good. What he didn’t know was the extent of how good. Only when he determined that it was so good that it was sublime and unlike any mirth he’d known before, to a degree that he’d never felt before– only then did he learn that what he had with you was bliss. 
 He knew it was fulfilling. That being with you gave him what he needed. Scratched the itch, fed the hunger, served the purpose that a ‘fun and casual’ fling was meant to. But he didn’t know being with someone could be so abundantly and satisfyingly rewarding; until he learned that the fulfillment could reach excess; that he could become so full of you that he was overflowing. 
 He knew it was comfortable– what you had with him. But he didn’t know being with someone could be so serenely content, dreamily domestic– that it could make the comfort become something he could physically feel. Not until he learned that you were the embodiment of comfort; that when he touched you, what he was looking for became tangible. That when he touched you, he was touching the warmth that lived inside of you. 
 He didn’t know humans could be homes until he learned that sensations could be envied. 
 He didn’t know he would regret it; didn’t know he would miss you so much. He didn’t know that the different, unfamiliar, scary want would turn into this habitual, heartsick, delicate yearning.
 Jeongguk didn’t know anything until he learned.
 And he’s learned that he wants to try.
 ~~~
 A rough, choked sound sputters from his throat when he feels a few heavy thumps on his back.
 “There, there,” a voice consoles lazily.
 Jeongguk promptly breaking down and melting into a puddle of tears after admitting he fucked up and wants to try and get you back is enough for a tipsy Taehyung to move from his place across the table to the unoccupied one to the right of the younger. 
 He’s able to peer inside now, his back no longer to the house, and he sees Jimin. He looks a little worried, a wrinkle between his brows as his eyes flit between Taehyung and Jeongguk, who’s got his head down as he cries into his folded arms atop the table. 
 He shoos Jimin, and now Yoongi with a knocked out Solmi on his hip, away with a dismissive flick of his wrist, giving them a look that says: I’ve got this.
 With fingers digging into the sides of Jeongguk’s neck, in a supposed to be soothing way, Taehyung asks, “So what’s the plan, Gguk? Whatcha gonna do to get her back?”
 Another weeping sob is the response he gets.
 He nods to himself. “Right.”
 It’s quiet for a small blip of time before Jeongguk whines, “She never answered my text. She could be dead for all I know, like she could have gotten into a crash or something and it would be all my fault and–”
 “Have you seriously not looked her up to check on her?”
 “–she doesn’t have Facebook– and I would just have to live with that. And I would deserve to live with it. The guilt–”
 “Of course, she doesn’t have Facebook. She’s not ancient,” Taehyung explains with a roll of his eyes as he pulls out his phone from his pocket, “She probably uses Instagram or something. How do you spell her name?”
 Jeongguk’s perked up, his red eyes and splotchy face now curiously peeking over Taehyung’s arm. He quietly spells your name out loud and watches as the letters appear one by one in the search bar. A few profiles get tapped through before Jeongguk’s small, sharp inhale lets Taehyung know he found the right one. He willingly hands over the mobile.
 The account is public, but Jeongguk’s not sure if that’s better or worse as he takes in what your feed consists of. There’s an assortment of things; pictures of yourself, some with your roommates, a few scenery ones to break up the monotony. One or two of the small succulent he gave you.
 There are also some of him. Of Nari.
 He finds his thumb moving on its own, tapping on a photo of tiny hands with tiny painted nails.
 “Don’t accidentally double-tap; that likes the pic and we’re using Iseul’s account.”
 Jeongguk chuckles. “Why do you let your 8-year-olds have phones and social media?” he asks, turning to look at Taehyun