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#then i watched it again and went: WAIT A FCKIN MOMENT SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT
akai-anna · 24 days
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please, tell me i'm not the only one who is obsessed over kaito chilling there and making friends with seagulls
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1kook · 3 years
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viki & hickeys
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the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)
SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG
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NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks
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Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 
There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 
Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 
“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”
Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”
The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 
You’re not so sure. 
It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 
Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 
“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”
You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”
She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”
At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 
You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 
“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 
Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 
Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 
Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 
So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 
And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”
You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 
Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 
To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 
Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 
On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 
(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)
“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 
Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 
“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”
You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 
There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 
Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  
“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 
He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 
But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 
Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”
You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”
His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 
“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 
Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 
Oh, you loved this man. 
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Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 
He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 
It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 
But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 
One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 
It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 
“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 
As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 
It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 
“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 
The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 
Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 
As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 
A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 
Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 
Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”
You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 
“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 
That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 
Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.
You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 
If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 
“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”
He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”
You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 
Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 
“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 
He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 
“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 
He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 
Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 
“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 
It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 
“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“
“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 
“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 
Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 
You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 
Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 
He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 
Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 
Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 
You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 
Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 
“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 
A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 
You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”
Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 
Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 
It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 
He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 
The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 
“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 
But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”
A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”
It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“
He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”
You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 
Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”
You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 
You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 
Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 
He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 
Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”
“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 
Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 
“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”
The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 
There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 
You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 
Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”
You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”
“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”
The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”
Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 
On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 
Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”
You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 
Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 
“I thought he was cool before.” 
He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 
In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 
You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 
Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 
You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 
He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”
“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 
Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 
You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“
“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 
His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 
It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 
Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 
He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 
Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 
(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 
Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 
(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 
You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”
The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 
But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 
“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 
“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 
Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 
The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 
He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 
“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”
He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 
Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 
It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 
Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 
He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 
Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“
“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 
He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 
“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”
Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 
You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 
Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 
“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”
Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 
“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 
Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”
“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 
At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 
You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 
Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 
Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 
He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”
Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—
Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 
You whimper. “That hurt.” 
“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”
Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 
Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 
Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 
Of course. 
You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 
It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 
And you’re all too ready to act on it. 
Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 
But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 
“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 
Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 
The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 
As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 
Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 
With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 
Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 
“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 
He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 
“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 
“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 
He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 
The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 
It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 
“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 
Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 
His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 
Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.
He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.
Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.
He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 
The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 
Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 
Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 
He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”
The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 
Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 
For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 
He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”
You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 
“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”
A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”
The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—
Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 
He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 
Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”
You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 
Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”
It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 
His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 
Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”
And it’s true. 
You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 
You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.
Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”
Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 
Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“
Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.
You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 
He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 
“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”
“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 
It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 
Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 
“I kinda do—“
“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.
His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 
“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”
You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 
“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 
“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 
Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 
“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 
You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.
Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.
You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 
It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 
Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 
You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 
Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 
“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 
“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.
And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”
Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.
What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.
“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 
(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)
Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 
With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 
“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 
“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 
You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”
Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 
Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 
“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 
“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 
You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 
“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”
The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 
Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 
“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”
Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 
“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 
The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”
You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 
Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.
“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 
He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 
“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”
You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.
That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 
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epilogue
Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 
He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 
Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 
“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 
“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“
“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 
“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”
The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 
There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 
All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”
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epi-epilogue
The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 
You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 
“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 
“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 
And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 
“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”
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Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
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dreamii-yume · 3 years
Note
When you said しし (shishi) I thought about a piss kink... Mainly because I used to say 'shishi' instead of pee when I was younger
LOL I FORGOT TO ADD THE THIRD SHI—
ALSO— WHY does my brain work better ideas once there’s that one questionable kink in an ask (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾I don’t even know if this was a crumb idea or— aaaaa
Ruggie is just that skillful guy who knows a lot about what he’s doing, doesn’t matter what it is, he’ll learn and master it soon enough.
The act of distraction by talking about topics that he knew you would be interested in, that’s also a piece of cake. His voice and seemingly genuine interest in the conversation had you so lost that you didn’t even notice how constantly he kept pouring drinks in your cup. Just as you would finish a glass, he’d rile the conversation towards himself and muses as he saw your eyes sparkled, before you know it, there’s a new batch of drink in your cup once again. He had to stop himself from chuckling out loud every time you would cluelessly down one glass, excited of how this outcome can do for you. Soon enough though, you started reacting as the liquid you consume began building up inside you and visibly froze in your spot.
Ruggie glanced down to see you fidgeting with your thighs squishing against each other, that blush on your face made you look hot and cute at the same time. You were trying to find an opportunity to excuse yourself in the midst of Ruggie’s words, not wanting to seem rude to cut him off mid-sentence. Being the little shit that he is, he purposely prolonged his point of the conversation, observing how you were more focus on keeping your bladder in control rather than actually listening to him now. When he finally finished talking, you hastily stood up from your seat the moment he breaths in, giving him a shaky smile and excusing yourself to the toilet. It was so funny how you didn’t even wait for his answer and just dashed away, Ruggie wonders if you even know where the bathroom is here in Savanaclaw but he guessed that was the least of your worries at that point.
Of course, like the little lost bunny that you are, frantically searched without a plan with Ruggie just watching you from behind. You look like you’re on the verge of tears, closing your eyes from time to time as a way to control your shaking legs. He noticed how you purposely avoided asking for guidance, probably because you didn’t have enough willpower to stomach in the nervousness and your impatient bladder at the same time, but surprisingly, you went and tap a Savanaclaw dorm member’s shoulder for instructions. Now, this made Ruggie tensed up since being a Savanaclaw dorm member himself, he knew their responses would either be as aggressive as he’d imagine, or reasonably rational. Luckily, with your pitiful appearance alone, the Savanaclaw dorm member just instead back down and pointed to the designated bathroom you were looking for.
This made Ruggie sigh, relieved yet disappointed at the same time since his little enjoyment of watching you struggle like a new-born fawn is reaching its end. However, as he trails after your dashing figure, one little fun yet cruel idea came to mind and he isn’t quite sure whether to be disgusted with himself or to praise himself for it. But if he was going to commit in such morbid kind of enjoyment then might as well just partake in it to the fullest, right?
Reaching the toilets filled with different stalls, you found yourself sighing a breath of relief since no one seemed to be around, too distracted by the party going on outside. You walked over to one stall and open it, revealing a perfectly clean toilet and you almost saw it as your bright savior at that moment. However, once you were actually ready to step in inside, a hand snaked its way around your shoulder, startling half of your soul out of you. Your heart began beating so fast once again that you thought your bladder had given out from that shock.
“Hey there, (Y/N)~” His playful voice rang out and you immediately recognized him, the arm began wrapping itself around your neck this time, preventing you from moving away any further. “Fancy seeing you here~”
“R-Ruggie-senpai…” You whimpered out, tears on the side of your eyes as the sight of the toilet in front of you had only urged the temptation of your bladder to just burst. “P-Please let go, I-I need to-“
“Mm-hm! I know, why else would you be here then?” He said in a mocking way, yet is making no actual efforts to comply with what you requested. Instead, you squeaked as his other hand moved up your thigh, brushing his fingertips so gently to create goosebumps along the way. “I just…kinda want to help you out, y’know?”
“Eh!?” You widened your eyes, gasping as his hand reached your clothed flower and started rubbing against it.
“…Oh, you’re already a little wet down here…” Ruggie said, blinking as he rubbed circles around the wet patch of your underwear before smirking right back at you. ”I wonder if you just couldn’t hold yourself longer? You’re such a baby, aren’t you~?”
“N-No, I- Aah…!” You tried protesting and struggling out of his hold, yet he already has your head in an inescapable arm lock and resisting could more or less choke you. He slipped his hand inside, his cold hands making you squeak from a single touch and tried to close your thighs to deny access. “R-Ruggie-senpai…!”
You whined, but Ruggie only hummed in fascination as his fingers rubbed up and down your slit, gathering your slick juices. You tried struggling forward, but that only got you in a more awkward bending position, which oddly worked on his favor. You gasped a shaky breath as his fingers began experimenting on your folds, occasionally pulling on your labia apart and stimulating your insides. The pressure inside you increases and you could only widen your eyes at it, especially when one of his fingers had slipped inside of you as a test. “You’re soaking up, and reallyclenching down on my finger, (Y/N)…Can’t take it anymore?”
You began to sob, mostly out of embarrassment as your nails dug on his arm around your neck, airy moans unconsciously coming out of your mouth as he began to pump in and out of you. You tried your hardest not to burst at that moment, too ashamed to do it in a position and place like this when there was a ready-to-use toilet in front of you, but it was getting more and more difficult at every second. But try as you may though, you couldn’t really control some small streaks of urine to come out of you, especially as he added another finger in. With thrusts that was getting faster and deeper, teasing your bladder out of its constricted binds to just let every dirty liquid you have to just flow in a messy impact. You heard Ruggie chuckling from behind your ears, likely really enjoying his little play and how it was affecting you.
Then, as the cold surface of his thumb came in contact with your sensitive clit, that’s when the last bit of your persistence suddenly crumbles away. Your voice cracked at how sudden the action was and your walls close in on his fingers the tightest it ever had. “Aah!” You exclaimed as a little rub on your nub was all it took for you to break down just like that.
In the midst of his brutal finger-fucking, a surge of liquid came bursting out of you, the relief of your bladder finally being released from the insane pressure had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Streaks of yellowish liquid trailed down your thighs and stained your panties in an instant, squirting out messily on the floor as your legs shook. “Ah, there it goes!” Ruggie exclaimed but still lodged his fingers deep inside of you, as if curious to see how it flows out like this. It took a good five seconds for you to calm down on your high, there was so many emotions that came out of you; The relief, the pleasure, and soon, the humiliation, but most notably, the sudden exhaustion.
“Alright~ That’s a job well-done, (Y/N)~” Ruggie praised as he adjusted his hold on you as your legs were practically dying at this point. He pulled his fingers out that made you flinch and groan at the same time, and the next thing you knew, you were being hoisted up to the toilet. Sitting there listlessly, you finally saw your Hyena senior grinning smugly at you from ear to ear as if feigning innocence with that signature laugh of his. He looked down at your soaked panties and breath out. “Well, I can’t just leave you here like this, so be a good girl and wait for me inside this stall, okay?”
You groaned in response, not knowing what to actually say or even having enough energy to say anything at all. However, you squeaked as you noticed Ruggie was slowly slipping your ruined underwear off your legs and panicked. “You probably don’t need this anymore, right? I’ll bring you something else to wear so, just sit here and be pretty little thing that you are like always.” He said as he stood up, casually waving your panties around, causing more heat to spread in your face.
Of course, Ruggie noticed such thing and just grinned at your reaction, it’s really fun to mess with you like this. He stepped out of the stall and as he was about to close the door, he stopped and gave you one last look. “Oh, by the way-“ He called out, showing your piss-stained panties tangled on his fingers once again before chuckling. “This counts as a gift, right? Thanks, (Y/N)~”
Then, he finally closes the door, leaving you to contemplate on what the hell just happened.
Now I just need Jack to complete the “Helping-Darling-Pee” series and the Savanaclaw Watersports™ Event would be completed- Seriously, HOW did I end up doing this lol Yume's not even an extreme piss kink fan wtf ─=≡Σ((( つ><)つ Happy fckin Birthday, Ruggie lol
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ehstarwar · 4 years
Text
flesh stays no farther reason (3/6)
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Absent his post, their lives would have never collided. Rey had no place in his life.
And yet… he kept talking to her. Kept asking for more time. How do you tell someone that their attention is killing you while simultaneously being the only thing keeping you alive?
-
Five times Ben looks for Rey and the one time she finds him.
-
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 6.5K
Read on AO3
ur lying
I’m not, actually.
u have to be bc if ur not lying then i can never fuck u again
Okay, then I’m lying.
you don’t read any fanfic?? like ever?
Why bring yourself more pain?
um fanfic TAKES AWAY the pain
i stg the only reason i still watch Galaxy Battles is bc
the fanfic authors are so fckin good
Rey smiles at her phone for what feels like the thousandth time that day. Plutt’s already yelled at her twice about being on her phone in front of customers, but, no one is in the shop right now and Plutt went home. There’s only 10 minutes to close, so Rey keeps herself occupied with closing procedures and tries not to get too worked up about her and Ben’s conversation.
In the two days since they last saw each other, they hadn’t stopped talking. They talked all day about inane things or cute pets that she saw on her way to work or societal issues and if Ben had the technology to rig the election so the orange ball of racism would be decidedly removed from office. Not yet, he’d said, but believe me, I’m trying.  
Their latest discourse about Galaxy Battles had started when Rey admitted to creeping on his other Reddit post, including one of how the original trilogy would forever be superior to either the prequel or sequel trilogy. He was wrong of course, but somehow Rey berating his views of the evil emperors return from the grave had devolved into a discussion on Ben’s fan fic reading, or lack thereof.
imma send you some links to some works you
HAVE to read
honestly they changed the way i view
galaxy battles
but you HAVE to kudos and comment on them
after you read them
its fanfic etiquette
While that does sound fun, I can think of something
slightly more useful to do with my time.
um actually u can’t
but enlighten me anyways
See you again?
I’m off work for the next 36 hours if you’re free.
Rey stopped dead in her tracks.
Yes, her heart screamed, go to Ben!
No, her brain declared, you’ve already gone too far with him.
For someone she’d only met twice, Ben was occupying a lot of her thoughts recently. Everything Ben had done thus far in no way indicated that he was going to ghost Rey. Except, of course, the posting on reddit to find someone to fuck sans feelings. Which was hard the second time and would be damn near impossible the third.
If she met up with Ben, they would have sex. It was the very base nature of their relationship. Not that he would want it to be called a relationship at all. He would be sweet and fuck her so well, not even her wildest fantasy would hold up. He would buy her food and let her sleep in a comfy bed. Then, when their time was up, he would go work at his high paying job and schmoozing with the Coursant elite and she would go back to work at an Auto shop that was listed as a laundromat in the yellow pages.
Absent his post, their lives would have never collided. Rey had no place in his life.
And yet… he kept talking to her. Kept asking for more time. How do you tell someone that their attention is killing you while simultaneously being the only thing keeping you alive?
Don’t do it, her brain whispered again. Protect yourself from the hurt; it’s what you’re good at.
But something about Ben made it very hard for Rey to listen to reason.
sure, i’m free.
-
Ben is a foot taller than anyone else on the sidewalk. He glowers over everybody else, most people giving him a wide berth of space. He’s frowning down at his phone, typing so furiously that Rey is almost too scared to say anything.
“Ben?” She hazards, after a moment. Ben’s head instantly snaps up, and the frown dissipates. It’s replaced by a soft half-smile that makes something flutter in Rey.
“Rey,” He says, looking at her, up and down. Last time, Rey had chosen not to change when coming from work, this time she did not have that luxury. Even if the pair of overalls she was currently sporting were slightly newer than that pair, it was still a potato sack in comparison to Ben’s designer suit.
“Sorry… I, uh, didn’t expect to be doing much after work,” Rey says sheepishly. Ben looks confused, so she clarifies. “I would’ve changed, but…”
“I think you look perfect,” he simply states. She gulps. After a terse minute, Rey rolls her eyes and playfully slaps his arm, hoping to move on from this with some self-deprecation; a superpower of hers.
“Oh whatever. So, should we head to the hotel, or did you have something else in mind?” She asks.
“I’ve made the mistake of not feeding you beforehand twice now, it’s not an error I’m willing to make again. I thought we could have dinner first before.” Ben gestures to the restaurant on the other side of the street. The windows are blacked out, and the valet is wearing gloves. The hostess stand alone looks like it cost the same as a year’s worth of Rey’s rent.
“That’s a lovely idea, but… I can’t go in there.”
“Do you not like their menu? I could have the chef prepare something better, if you-”
“You really don’t see why I can’t go in there?” Rey asks, flabbergasted.
“No,” Ben simply states.
Rey has attempted, her entire life, to make as little of a scene as possible. Some may confuse this for timidness or meekness, but Rey knows better. Her ability to go though life making the least trouble possible for herself is one of the only reasons she’s been able to make it this far. It’s not shyness or second-hand embarrassment that holds her back (god knows she’s faced that enough in her life); it’s the desire to go on living life without creating trouble. Ben, it seems, does not understand that.
“Ben, regardless how you feel I look, the people in the restaurant will balk if they see someone like me, looking like this, walk into a restaurant that serves one dish that is more expensive than my apartment. I can’t go in there.”
“Why do you do that?” Ben asks, looking terse and unhappy. “First at the hotel, now here. You act like you don’t belong somewhere.”
“I don’t belong here.”
“You do. You’re here, so you belong here.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It could be, if you wanted it to.”
Rey sighs. This isn’t a conversation she’s willing to have with him, certainly not on the sidewalk during rush hour on a Thursday, and there’s a sinking feeling in her gut that Ben will not drop this without creative thinking on Rey’s part.
She scratches the back of her neck, looking anywhere but Ben. He’s stare at her, waiting for her to respond, giving her his undivided attention. It heats her cheeks.
“You know, I actually had a restaurant I was really looking forward to eating at for dinner; why don’t we just go there instead? If you really want to eat your… fancy food stuff, I can just meet you back at the hotel.” Ben’s frown falls slightly, replaced with a  look of neutrality, and Rey represses a sigh of relief.
“I don’t care about eating there, Rey, I want to eat with you.”
“Okay, then Waffle House it is.”
-
It was comical how large Ben looked inside. The harsh, bright lighting made his hair look shinier than Rey had ever seen it, and he barely even fit in the small booth covered in yellow linoleum. When he grabs a laminated menu off the rack, Rey chuckles.
“Is it safe to assume you’ve never been to a waffle house before?” She asks, head cocked sideways. He shoots her a dirty look.
“I’m not entirely uncluttered, you know. I frequented the local waffle house plenty of times in undergrad.” Ben holds up the large plastic card in front of his face.
“If that were true, you wouldn’t need to look at the menu.” Rey pulls the menu down to the table and gives him a sweet smile. He softens at that.
“In my defense, it’s been a while,” He shrugs.
“Well, nothings changed. I’m pretty sure these were the same menus they used in the eighties.”
Ben inspects the menu carefully before putting it down. A older server comes over, giving them drinks (an orange juice for them both, Ben begrudges), and taking their order before leaving them. For the first time since she’s met Ben, the silence is uncomfortable.
“How was your day?” He asks after a moment. Rey is still looking at her chipped fingernail polish when she answers.
“Fine… long, I guess. It was my ninth day in a row,” She tells him. His gaze darkens.
“That’s criminal.”
She shrugs. “I get the next two days off so, it’s not totally unexpected. How was you day?”
“Busy. My bosses boss is visiting in a few weeks, so the office is in a state of chaos.”
“And yet you somehow stumbled upon 36 hours off?”
“An imposition from HR. I’ve accumulated enough sick leave to last a few lifetimes. When my boss got the memo, he sent me home. Told me to rest up for the weeks ahead.”
“Someone who’s accrued that much sick leave must have worked a lot more than nine days straight,” She taunts. “That’s criminal.” Ben rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitch.
Another moment of silence passes, making Rey squirm in her seat.
“I think I need to apologize, for earlier,” She says. Ben looks confused. “It was sweet of you to ask me out to dinner in your limited time off. I should’ve reacted… better.”
One of his large hands reaches the short distance across the table to grip hers. Her hands are dwarfed by his, so she stares down at them instead of looking up at him.
“I’m sorry, too. I can be… callous when it comes to others feelings. I should’ve warned you instead of thinking you’d blithely go along with my plans.” When Rey finally looks up, Ben is looking at her with the sweetest and softest expression.
Okay, her brain concedes, this is nice.
“I do have to admit,” he continues after a minute, “my intentions are not entirely virtuous.”
“I certainly hope not,” Rey grins, “because neither are mine.”
-
He brings her to a different hotel this time. Something much more modern and cool. None of the employees are wearing outfits too ostentatious, but Rey has a sneaking suspicion that the level of service is probably the same. The valet seems to be expecting them, despite Ben having made no calls during or after their meal, and hands Ben the keys to the room.
Only when they’re in the elevator, away from prying eyes, does Rey mention anything.
“Why the change of venue?” She asks.
“The views from here are better. You can see the skyline much more clearly from our floor,” Ben tells her. Rey scoffs.
“Plan on spending a ton of time looking out the window, are we?”
Ben quirks a brow down at her. His eyes turn predatory and Rey can feel her cunt throb. He slowly backs her into the wall of the elevator, pressing his front flush with hers, arms going out to cage her in.
“I think it’ll be a nice view for you when I fuck you against the window.”
Heat licks up her spine. His face is only a few centimeters away from her, but he keeps his lips to himself. He traces the side of her jaw with his nose, letting his lips skim across her skin, but never stopping.
“You told me once… that I deserved a bed…” her voice is unsteady when she uses it. Ben pulls back slightly, and brings his wrist up to check his watch.
“We still have about 34 hours left,” He replaces his hand and looks back down at Rey, “I think we can fit a few places in.”
His lips have only just brushed hers when the elevator chimes that they’re on their floor.
-
“You like this,” He whispers in the shell of her ear. “Being held up, open for any and all to see…” His cock drags inside her once again and Rey gasps. The glass is cold against her hand, and she can see her breath fogging up the window. Ben tightens his grip on her hips as he slowly pulls out of her again, making her whine.
“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that, baby.” He says, pressing a wet kiss to the top of her shoulder.
“Please, daddy…” Her hands clutch at the glass. “Faster… please,” She begs. She’s rewarded with a few quick thrusts. Her head lulls back, making him kiss at her throat.
“Good girl… asking so nicely,” He murmurs. Rey can feel a twitch of an orgasm approaching her.
“Gonna… make me… come, daddy…” She breaths. Ben snakes a hand downwards, until it finds her clit. He rubs her with soft strokes, flaming the fire within her. She tries to grind down on his hand, but Ben thrust into her harshly again keeping her where she it.
“Come on, baby…” he mumbles, “come all over me… above everyone…” His thrust move in time with the strokes on her clit, and the air in her lungs is sucked out as she tumbles into an orgasm. She’s boneless as he works her through it, still stroking her and pounding into her. She can feel the control slipping from his hands, the movements becoming erratic.
Rey can feel his muscles straining against her over-heated skin. Their bodies are sweaty, only adding to the sound of wet skin slapping against each other. It feels like she’s floating when coming down from her high. Ben grips her tighter as he begins to come, putting fresh bruises in her skin with his fingertips.
His mouth finds the back of her neck, and she can feel his teeth clenched as he comes. He grunts into her skin as his cock twitches within her; she can already feel the warmth of his come seeping downwards. Ben holds her hips flush with his as he continues to pump her full of him. He puts one hand on the font of her lower abdomen, and instinctively, she places her hand over his.
“I can feel myself… like this,” he says, mouth still against her neck. “I can feel myself inside of you… fuck…” he whispers. She strokes the back of his hand with her thumb as Ben regains his breath; trying to comfort him for reasons she didn’t understand.
His breath is hot against her neck, but she loves it. Love the feeling of him alive and hot against her. It fills her with a fuzzy feeling she’s unused to.
-
“Do you think that’s enough?” He asks, dryly. Rey ignored his comment and continued filling the ridiculously large tub with even more bubbles. The bottom of the tub is hard beneath her knees as she waddles her way over to the faucet, pouring the remaining soap underneath, filling the air with lavender.
Ben sits on the other side, arms stretched out of the tub, one knee just above the surface of the bubbles. Even though his comment was sarcastic, the expression on his face is soft. It makes Rey want to melt.
When she finishes adding every soap that was on the counter to the boiling hot water, she scoots herself in between his open legs. Her back leans onto his chest, head cradled on his shoulder, while his arms come down to wrap around her midsection, hands resting on her thighs.
“I don’t get to take baths like this. I think it’s only fair I add whatever soap I want to,” She says, once she’s comfortable. Ben only hums in response. He traces his nose on her wet hairline, lips brushing her skin every so often. If the plastic of the tub weren’t so hard on her ass, Rey would’ve fallen asleep.
After their tryst on the window, Ben had ushered her into the bathroom to clean her up. Ben notices as soon a her eyes landed on the tub that took up a solid quarter of the room, and silently obliged to bathe with her.
Ben’s hands begin massaging her thighs, so she does the same. Her hands seek him out, and land on the thick, corded, muscular tops of his thighs, hands tickled by the sparse hair there.
“Mmmm…” She mumbles, while feeling him up, “I want to ride your thighs later.” She feels him smile against her skin.
“Okay,” He says, voice low. She feels it rumble from his chest and sinks further into him. She can feel his cock, already half-hard again, against the small of her back, but Ben does nothing to indicate that he wants to move any time soon, so she ignores it.
His hands come up to caress her torso, fingers brushing just on the underside of her breast as they work in a rhythmic pattern. Her skin feels hyper-sensitive everywhere he’s touching her; against her back, his hands on her torso, his legs against hers. She wonders, idly, if he’s as unused to this kind of intimacy as she is. It’s not a secret that the two of them need to physically feel each other whenever they’re together. Rey is curious if this is one of the few ways he experiences intimacy, as it is for her.
“Ben?” She asks. He hmm’s against her, nose still tracing the side of her face. “You don’t… do this… with other people, do you? I don’t think you do, but… I’m curious.”
To his credit, Ben doesn’t really falter in his movements. There is a slight pause as soon as the words escape out of her mouth, but he resumes so quickly, Rey isn’t even sure the hesitation happened.
“Would you be jealous if I said yes?” He asks.
Her entire body stiffens. The water, hot against her skin, suddenly feels like ice.
“I don’t,” Ben says quickly, clearly attuned to the change in her demeanor. She relaxes again, but keeps slightly on edge.
“Why not?” She prods further, “It’s not like there’s anything holding you back.”
She feels him sigh beside her. His hands suddenly wrap around her hips, twisting her until she’s facing him and seated in his lap. The steam from the bath has formed sweat all over his skin, so he’s practically glowing in the yellow light. He looks like a greek god; full of imperfections that suit him perfectly. Her mouth goes dry at the sight.
“Do you want me to have… this, with anyone else?” He questions. Rey has to bite her lip from screaming absolutely fucking not!
“Does it matter what I think?” She counters. His eyes narrow at her.
“It does to me.”
Rey softens. Her hands come up to trace the features of his face, down to the hard planes of his chest that peak above the water.
“We’re treading in dangerous water, Ben,” She says before looking up at him. He smirks lightly.
“I think there’s a little too much soap in here, but I hardly think that makes it unsafe,” He jokes, playfully looking around the tub. She splashes him with soapy water, giggling in his lap. He holds her tighter, then bringer her closers to him to kiss her.
Kissing him is many things at one; it’s hot and sweet, promising yet daunting, full of emotion that words can’t convey, but above all, it feels so, so good. The kind of goodness that Rey has searched for in every person and yet to find. It’s terrifying, but she does it anyway.
They make out for a while, hands roaming over pruny bodies, until he’s fully hard again and Rey is wet enough to sink right onto him. They both loose their breath at the sensation, lips still touching but not quite kissing. After a minute, she begins to move, working herself up and down onto him in an unhurried pace. It makes the stretch of him even more pronounced and hot.
His hands guid her hips, and she complies, moving in any direction he so chooses. They only break from each others mouth to kiss at different part of skin; both going for the neck. She leave bites and bruises and he does the same. I hope they’re purple and huge, she thinks; I hope they last forever.
After a while, he whines into her mouth, needy and desperate.
“There is nothing… like coming in you… take me so well… such a good girl…”
She grind down harder on him, liking this desperate, pleading thing hie’s become.
“Wanna make you… full of me… mark you with… my come… would you let me? Let me- fuck- let me fill you… over and over… until you’re mine? Would you?”
She nods against him, telling him “Yes… yes… I’m yours.”
-
“I have tomorrow off, too. I don’t know if I mentioned that,” She tells him once they’re dry and in bed. She didn’t exactly plan for this, so she has no clothes of her own to change into, but Ben seems more than happy to let her snag his white undershirt from earlier. With no panties, of course.
“You did,” he mumbles against her stomach. She’s lying on her back with Ben’s head on her stomach, kissing her skin through the fabric. Rey had one hand brushing though his silky hair, the other holding her phone up as she text Rose.
hey, I won’t be home tonight, Ben called me again
i don’t think i’ll be home tomorrow either, but i’ll
keep u posted
are u sure its healthy to be spending this much
time with him?
wasn’t it supposed to be a one night stand?
yeah but the sex is good so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
why don’t u invite Finn over since u have
the place to urself??
don’t try and divert. I’m worried about u
I don’t want u to get hurt, regardless if
the dick too bomb
Rey doesn’t respond. She doesn’t know how to. She wants to accuse Rose of having a secret mic into Rey’s inner most thought and using them against her, but even she knows that’s crazy. Instead, she puts her phone down and luxuriates in the weighted blanket that is Ben.
They’ve been asleep for hours, but it’s still dark out. Rey is secretly thankful for the stormy weather outside, like it gives her an excuse to stay in this bubble with Ben. He’s still snoring softly, head buried between her shoulder and neck. She thinks of their second conversation when he told her he lean’s towards domination. Defiantly a switch, she thinks. Ben has wrapped himself around her, practically suffocating her with his embrace.
Rey loves it.
-
His face is buried in her cunt. So much so that she’s worried he’ll never resurface. He licks with sure, hard strokes, noes rubbing at her clit. It’s a cataclysmic rush of sensations that has her mewling and writing above him. She can see from the corner of her eye, him bucking his hips into the mattress beneath them. And she’s fucking jealous of it. A mattress.
“Ben…” She whines, high pitched and needy, no real message to convey, just liking the way his name feels rolling off her tongue. He grunts against her and sucks her clit.
Her hands tug his hair, trying not to be too rough, but knowing that he liked to be pushed a bit. His teeth graze her labia as a warning, but she pays it no mind. Rey tries to wedge a leg under him, so that she can feel the hardness between his legs and maybe even give him some relief. Ben obliges, using a hand to guide her leg under him, so that his cock brushes against the back side of her calf when he thrusts.
The threat of orgasm is imminent, marching towards her quickly and not giving her time to even breath. Her fingers find the shell of his ear, and Rey remembers how endearing she found it when they got red after sex. Her thumb caress his ears, hands covering them.
Ben looses his mind.
His bucking becomes more wild and his tongue more sure. Rey is stung into her orgasm when his teeth gently nip at her clit, either purposefully or not, and she can feel the hot come from Ben coat her leg.
It’s an overwhelming rush of sensations.
His come spurting out onto her skin and the sheets, his face now sopping with her juices, one of his hands holding her stomach down, the other holding her leg so that he can empty himself on her.
He’s gasping against her as his body shudders. She feels the last few gentle twitches of his cock against her calf before he stops moving and basically melts on top of her.
“Sorry… it was- my ears are- it was so good…” he says, still breathless. Rey makes an experimental stroke of her thumb along the shell of his ear once more, causing Ben to whine but not asking her to stop. She wonders how quickly he could come again, maybe just like this, but decides to save that hypothesis for a later date.
Instead, she holds him as he weakly climbs up to be closer to her.
-
Rey groans when she rolls over to an empty bed. Her stomach drops and suddenly her whole body is alert, immediately shaking off any remnant of sleep. She sits up quickly, panic running down her spine, mouth already open and dry with fear.
Thankfully, she spots Ben right away.
He’s sitting at the desk, typing on a computer, face illuminated only by the light from the screen. He looks so focused and Rey hesitates for a moment, considering weather or not to disturb him from his work. Screw it, she thinks, I only have him for a few more hours; his work can wait.
She gets up on unsteady legs, taking a moment to peak from behind the blinds. It look early out, even in the grey pouring rain. She slowly makes her way over to Ben, who still hasn’t noticed that she’s awake. She shuffles her feet, trying to make more noise as not to scare him before placing her hand on his shoulder.
Ben’s back straightens, and he looks up to Rey, who is pulling his rolling chair back and climbing into his lap with no resistance from him. He’s naked still, she notes, and so is she. She straddles his lap and brings her hands to his biceps. His mouth seeks hers out instantly, pressing wet kisses against her lips.
“Why are you… not… in bed?” She questions between kisses, trying to to sound too petulant. Judging by his chuckle, she’s clearly failed.
“I had some work to wrap up,” He tells her, hands now roaming her bare back. She glances at the clock, flashing a bright 6:43.
“You still have… 24 hours of… your weekend left… no work,” She says, sighing into his mouth. He pulls back, and her mouth instinctively goes to chase it, but stops when she sees him slightly smiling at her.
“You were asleep; I figured I could multitask. After all, you’ll need your strength for everything I have planned for today,” Ben tells her, voice going low. Rey surpasses a shiver.
“Plans?” She questions. He nods. “Care to enlighten me on these plans?”
“Well, you mentioned something about riding my thigh earlier, and I figured if you’re going to ride that, my face might feel left out so we should add that to the list,” Ben says, making Rey chuckle. “Then my cock might feel neglected also, so you should probably ride that at some point too. And I did have a dream about what my come might look like on your tits, so, I think today would be a good day to find out.”
Rey throws her head back laughing and Ben adjusts his hold on her, squeezing her tighter to him.
“So, as you can see, you’ll need your strength if we’re going to get through all of that today, Ms. Niima,” He taunts. Rey brushes some hair behind his ears, fingers purposefully ghosting them and making him shudder.
“That sounds like an excellent plan, Mr. Solo. What should we start with first?” She questions, already feeling his cock twitch where it rests between the two of them.
“Anything you want, Ms. Niima; I’m yours for the taking.”
Rey considers him for a moment, even though she’s already made up her mind. She squirms in his lap before settling her self firmly on one of his tree-trunk legs and begins grinding down. Her cunt is still puffy and slightly sore from all their… activities, but the feeling of his muscles beneath her is too delicious to pass up. She grinds her self until she is slick and wet against him. Ben drops his head to her shoulder, breathing deeply. She thinks of how much his words affect her when he’s the one talking, so she decides to give it a try.
“One of the first things I noticed about you… was your thighs,” She starts. “They’re so fucking strong, even in your pants. I didn’t know how to ask for it, that first night. But I couldn’t get it out of my head.”
Ben’s hands go to grope her ass, squeezing, as he breaths heavily against her sternum. His thigh is covered in her now, and she moves with a sicking wet sound that fills the room.
“I tried everything, after that. I humped pillows, tried to get off on the edge of my bed, even considered buying a sex doll just to recreate what your thigh would feel like,” She admits, voice becoming breathless as her movements pick up. Ben’s cock is red and twitching now, leaving a drop of precome on his stomach where it bumps against. Rey works faster now, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder, no doubt leaving red slits in their wake.
“I thought about messaging you every night, trying to come up with some eloquent way to beg you to ride your thigh into oblivion. Even if it’s all you would give me; I wanted you dripping in my come like I’m covered in yours.”
“Rey,” he warns. She can feel herself approaching orgasm, so she readjust her hips to get her clit to hit his skin with every stroke. She gasps and feels Ben’s teeth on her neck.
“Want you… to wear my come… all day… soak it into your skin…so it stays,” She moans out, finding it harder to speak the closer she gets.
“Yes… yes, please…” Rey hears him beg. She can feel his cock so hard against her, but he’s brought no relief to himself in the form of his hand. She resist the urge to grab him and jerk him off, deciding it’ll be much more satisfying to see him come without her even touching it.
She moves quicker now, searching for that peak, and finds it so fast it scares her. Her orgasm wreaks through her body, sizzling down her spine and making her cunt clench and drip onto his thigh. Her hand goes to grip it, holding Ben’s thigh someone even closer between her, and letting her juices flow onto him. Ben comes too, with a cry into her skin. His cock twitches desperately as the white fluid spurts out of him, coming up to coat her abdomen. A rouge stripe of come lands on his shoulder where it’s bent to lean down onto her, and she licks it up without hesitation.
They sit together, not moving for a moment, catching their breath. Ben breaths heavily onto her skin as she licks up the sweat beads that have formed on the side of his throat. She whispers sweet endearment of good boy and thank you for coming for me. She uses a hand to trace up his spine to the back of his head, feeling Ben become putty in her embrace.
It’s a power trip unlike anything she’s experienced before.
Rey doesn’t tell him then, but she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they will be doing that again.
-
“Tell me what your childhood was like.”
She doesn’t know why she asks him. They had been silent for a while, but the conversation preceding the question had nothing to do with that topic. But still, the words bubble and spill out of her without a chance for Rey to begin them in.
She’s lying on top of Ben, listening to the soft thudding of his heartbeat, while some old Galaxy Battles that just happened to be on TV is playing. His hands a tracing her spine, occasionally dipping lower to kneed at her ass. His hands have stoped, midway down her back, but resume quickly.
“It was… loud,” He says, prompting Rey to push herself up to stare at him. “My mother is… popular, you could say. There was always something going on at our house. Meetings that turned into dinners that turned into parties that turned into more meetings. There was always so many people around that I didn’t know. But my father…” Ben trails off for a moment. “He didn’t like it either. So he’d leave for weeks at a time. Sometimes I think my mother didn’t even notice. God knows she didn’t notice me.” Something bitter traces his voice so Rey hums against his skin. “I was… not considered much, when I was with them. An extra bag they needed to pack whenever they went away.
Rey nuzzles her face into his chest, wanting to skin within his skin and give his heart a hug.
“I left home when I was 18 and didn’t speak to either of my parents for 10 years. The only reason I even started speaking with my mother again is because…” Ben takes a moment, and Rey lets him. “My father died.”
Rey doesn’t breath, unwilling to even move slightly and disturb whatever trace Ben seemed to be in.
“I was the first person my mother called to tell. That had never happened before. It was… strange.” She feels Ben shift beneath her, but his eyes still remain closed. “Our relationship is still awful, but we talk more now. Mostly her berating me for my career choices or asking for grandchildren, but… it’s talking.”
Rey hugs him. Squeezes him so tightly she’s worried he’ll bruise, but Ben doesn’t seem to mind.
“I’m an orphan,” She offers, after a moment. “My parents dropped me off at a fire station when I was two. Or… they think I was two. All they left was a piece of paper that said ‘Rey.’ Supposedly the state searched for my parents for a while, trying to track them down, but I’m not really sure that’s true. I was sent to Jakku when I was five and I grew up in a junkyard there. That’s why I’m a mechanic. I learned how to spot parts that were salvageable since I was a pre-teen. It’s the only thing I was ever good at.”
Her quiet admission hangs heavy in the air.
Slowly, she feel’s Ben roll them over so that he’s above her and her back is on the bed. His eyes are sad when they look down at her, and suddenly Rey realizes her eyes have tears in them too. Ben kisses away her tears, lips soft against her skin.
“You’re good at so much, Rey. More than even I know. So, so good. Don’t ever say that again, please.”
Ben’s plea pierces her heart with such a sharp precision, it feels like she’s been shot.
All at once, every fear that Rey had before meeting Ben comes rushing back. The feeling both of them were trying to avoid, crash around her like an avalanche, and Rey is stuck in the cold, hard ice. Somehow Rey knows that this was meant to happen. That she was meant to be on that Reddit page and refresh just in time to see his post and meet him in that fancy bar and fuck him in that gaudy room and do everything they’ve done together.
Ben kisses her as she realizes that there will be no soft break from this. That wherever this ends will hurt. It’ll break her even. But, even scarier than that, Rey is more than willing to let Ben do that.
-
“Don’t leave.”
It’s morning. Almost 7. The sun is just starting to peak behind the curtains. The bed is warm where they’ve laid and fucked and made love and held each other all night. The sound of a cart being placed outside of their door is the only besides the fan and their breathing. His hair tickles her face. His arms have wrapped around her so tightly she’s not sure she’ll ever break from his embrace.
“Don’t leave,” She whispers again.
He’s still snoring. He can’t hear her. She says it again anyway.
“Don’t leave me.”
-
The bacon is still hot by when Ben pulls the breakfast cart in. It’s full of wonderful looking food that Rey would gladly devour on any other day. But she can only bring herself to nibble at the fatty bacon that drips grease down her hand.
Ben is all but ready to go, his suit jacket hanging on the other side of his chair and shoes still waiting by the door. He’s go Rey in his lap and hands digging into the cup of greek yoghurt. He hasn’t stopped touching her since they’ve woken up. They showed together, he ate her out, she brought him off with her hand, they had to re-shower, and now they were enjoying a quiet breakfast. Her hair was still wet and dripping into his discarded bathrobe. She refused to wear her own, and Ben had happy obliged when she asked to put his on after he took it off.
He kisses her neck sometimes and she tries to take inconspicuous sniffs of his hair.
It’s nice outside, if a bit hot. Ben has to be at work in an hour. Rey still has today off. He’s got a busy few weeks ahead. She’s got the same monotonous tasks ahead of her for the foreseeable future. He offered to extend the room reservation so that she could keep it tonight. She declined. He extended it anyways.
She’s met him three times. They’ve talked about some of the deepest trauma any person can go through. They’ve argued about fan fiction. Ben is incredibly wealthy. Rey can’t afford her water bill this month.
Ben leaves her with multiple incessant kisses, each sweeter than the last. He tells her he’ll call, but maybe not for a while. He makes her promise to call if she needs anything at all. He kisses her again for good measure. Then her shoulder her forearms and her hands. Rey doesn’t cry until the door is closed.
She’s falling in love with him. (If she isn’t already.)
It fucking hurts.
-
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kisspoutylips · 7 years
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WINGST TOUR IN JAKARTA
Hello, maybe this is my first ever post after I shift my acc to BTS trash feed. First of all, thank you for all of bts writers, especially smut writers, I've been involved with BTS from AFF actually and my tumblr became BTS feed because of my need of BTS smut, lol. Okay sorry for the bad english.   Actually, I want to share my FIRST EVER experience of attending Kpop concert and I need to be proud of it because it's BTS CONCERT WINGS TOUR TRILOGY IN JAKARTA!!! ALL HAIL BTS. 
It's a very great great great experience to attend the WINGS TOUR TRILOGY concert, like I finally can be in a same hall with them, breath the same air with them, i'm crying lyk a baby there lyk i don't know. The struggle i've been faced since the promotor announced the ticket, my struggle for being a miserable person for about a month because i don't have enough money after i pay for the ticket, albeit i still can afford food thou, lol.  Lyk after one month of despair i can finally see them with my own eyes lyk, really, i couldn't even named these feelings i still have inside my heart and head and just WOW, WOW!!! I LOVE THEM I will write my experience about the concert.  From the beginning, the promotor rarely active in social media to inform us about the concert, lyk, the price list was announced about one month before the concert, though the tickets still sold out, and there were still a problem about them who can't buy the ticket and was being trick to buy ticket with expensive price, about 3 times from normal price. Many people have been trick because of it.  And for me, it was just a miracle that i can buy the ticket with normal price, eventough the ticket i get is not the one i want. I got purple ticket instead of blue, the one with free seat.  After that, one month just like being drag so fast till suddenly it's already the exchange ticket day! I'm grateful that i buy the ticket from another website, not from the active website on social media, because it was a fast exchange ticket ever!!! Lyk, i'm only wait for about 30 minutes and then, Voila! I've got the ticket!!!  Lyk, it really is a great day for me, and i even have a friend with the same section that only a middle high student who already being an ARMY from 2014! She is still an primary school student when she became an ARMY!!!  Back to the topic, the day, Friday was a great day, except when me and my friend went to the airport to meet them, BTS. Fans was being tricked by the announcement because in the end BTS were going through VIP to get to their hotel. The Airport was really a chaos, many fans pushing each other like they were all want to see BTS with their own eyes but me and my friend be lyk, “Okay, we should behave don’t do the same this like those kids downstairs”. I was already tired as hell that i feel really mad with myself, lyk how could I be so stupid, but in the end i convinced myself that, "It's fine, it's just my first ever experience"  And then!!!! D-DAY!!!! me and my friend were going to the hall at 9.30 in the morning, and the concert begin at 6.30 in the evening, HAHA, what a long time right, the time really move so fast that i don't even know it's already evening when the promotor told us to make a queue based on our queue number, and i really grateful that i came at 9.30. The wait is long but it's worth it because I can really see them with my own eyes, even though in a 50 meters distance i think? Or is it 100? Dunno. When we were waiting the promotor staff are kind and there was this one funny person that shout our number, “1-200 move to front and the rest munduuuur” it’s retreat in Indonesia, and the way she speaks was like Dory when she speak to the whale, to Destiny, LOL, we kept mimicking her, because she was so funny. The crowd was really huge lyk, we sing along for almost of the song they sing for us. Lyk, we sing along about 25 songs, and my throat kind of sore as I write this. Not just that, in the time we wait for the concert to begin, the promotor made us watch some MV that the time the song begin we start to sing along,  And when the concert begin with NOT TODAY, ALL OF PEOPLE ALMOST SCREAM that my ear turn a lil bit deaf. THE OPENING WAS JUST, KYA KYA KYA, NOT TODAY!! KYA KYA KYA, I can't hear them right, but I keep sing a long with a poor korean, lol.  After that, the song next is Am I Wrong!! Great song! I love that, and when the Baepsae and Dope comin, the Hall was explode with, KYA KYA BAEPSAE!! KYA KYA CHORO!! ALL OF THE HALL SING A LONG WELL if I'm not wrong, AM I WRONG?? Lol  The member introduction is a lil bit kya kya moment i could even hear them clearly, it's just "damn, why my ear is lyk this" when i can't hear them clearly. After that, they sing their own solo that I came awestruck again because Jongkook was so good, and my friend told me that his shirt is wet and it lyk, urrggghhh!!! I DON'T EVEN SEE IT!!! I WANNA SEE WET KOOKI!! All I see was just white Kooki and damn those legs dance movement was soooo sooo legit!!!  But I can see Jimin a lil bit cleary with Lie, it's all red and DAMN! those sexy blindfold scene thou, i really love them. And there is something up there that brought above Jimin but i can't see cleary at the moment but HE IS MANTAP, We were keep singing a long with him.  I REALLY WANT TO SEE MY MAS AGUS AKA MIN YOONGI AKA SUGA AKA AUGUST D when he sing First Love, i really love his low crunchy voice lyk, can i kiss your throat for making those voice, i have this soft spot about low barithon voice, i can tell you, and thougt i wanna cry when i hear this song but i can't clearly remember if i cry or not, lol, sorry my love, but I LOVE YOUR VCR, LYK REALLY, and I love your perform eventhou i can't clearly see you :( but i love you trust me, thank you for bringin' another mas agus to send me home last night :)))  And then LOST!!! I LOVE THIS SONG!!! THEIR PERFORMANCE, KOOKI, TAE, CHIM CHIM AND JIN IN RED WAS SOOOOOO BEAUTIFUL!!! If i could borrow those authornim word, it's etheral, another awestruck, *wink* their voice is just really resemble with their voice in their album lyk, THEY ARE REALLY GREAT, I TELL YA! And i love the dance too, eventhou, once more, i couldn't remember it clearly,  Then the SAVE ME AND I NEED YOU WAS... The Indonesian ARMY have this project, i don't know the meaning of the words but they lift the posters up when BTS sing Save Me, and J-Hope notice this!!! He take one of ARMY poster and kiss it on screen at the encore part!!! Lyk, KYA KYA KYA!!! HOW ARE YOU FEELIN GIRL AFTER THAT!!!  And when I Need You part, the ARMY should sing something to commemorate the HYYH 2 years anniversary but i guess it failed? Or what? I don't know...  After this it's REFLECTION AND STIGMA PERFORMANCE AND I COULD TELL YOU THAT NIGHT NAMJOON REALLY STEAL MY HEART I'M SORRY MIN YOONGI I STILL LOVE YOU BUT NAMJOON WAS SO GREAT HANDSOME THAT NIGHT THAT I CAN'T EVEN STOP TO STARE AT HIM!!!! AND THE "WE LOVE YOU" WAS SO PURE I CRY :( we love you Namjoon, I love you, thanks for being the leader, thank God for bringing him to this world and by the way, we are on the same age, :))) nevermind  And THE STIGMA TAEHYUNG VOICE WAS SOOOO SOOO GREAT, JEBAL :( I LOVE HIS VOICE lyk really, the act was good, all their act was great during perform if i can tell you this, they got their own style but still they are good as f**k!!!  MAMA IS GOOD!!! But i couldn't see the VCR well because people keep recording with their phone i can barely see his vcr, his baby photo live :( but it's great and JUNG HO SOEK YOU WRECK MY FRIEND BIAS LIST!!! HAHA and i think he look evin good in black hair, because before, he is so bright for me lyk really shining but now, he is just lyk real people and i like him, and i love you all!!!!  AWAKE!!! I CRY REALLY HARD WHEN JIN SING THIS SONG!!! I even can recall how my lips trembling when I sing along to this song, the all hall sing along so well that i got a goosebumps, and i want to cry again as i write this Awake part. Jin's voice is just so miracle i could tell you people. Because other post lyk only describe their real appearance like body built or handsomeness but i want to tell you this guis, THEIR VOICE IS FCKIN AWESOME!!! Lyk there is no different from their recorded songs!!! I can guarantee it!!!  Chyper part 4 is BOMBING THE HALL!!! I REALLY LOVE THIS PART OF CHYPER!!! Kim Namjoon with his sunglasses, Hobi with his... What, i forgot sorry hehehe, but those bang bang on the screen was cool!!! and Min YOONGI!! HOLY MIN YOONGI!! I CAN'T FORGET YOUR FCK YOU AND YOU!!! I love youuu!!!!  And FIRE REALLY BURN THE HALL UP!!!! ARMY SING ALONG REALLY LOUD I WAS SCREAMING FIRE MY THROAT HURT BUT FCK IT I LOVE THIS SONG!!! BTS! BTS! BTS! BTS!!  Then they sing N.O, No More Dream, Boy In Luv, Danger, Run, War of Hormone, in mix lyk the hall was crazy many people sing along, but i just can't do anything, because i forget the lyrics, tee hee. But it was great!!! And I love it when they sing 21 Century Girl, I love their dance!!! "Oh my lady!!! Put your hands up!!! I love their dance!  After that, my friend got hysterical while Hoseok sing Boy Meets Evil, I only shake my body a lil bit, as I got a lil bit tired,  And... When the Pittanunnmul began I suddenly realize it was already the end, i sing this song but i feel a lil sad, and i want to cry lyk really want to cry but i hold it.  When the VCR and Wings began, i don't even remember what happen, and then the member start to talk in Indonesia and they are really fluent i was really shook that they can speak Indonesian clearly, eventhou Yoongi still has his dialect but I really love them speak in Indonesian because it feels like they are one of us, lyk, they could be with us, and I feel really close with them...  There were convetty if i'm not forget when the Wings part begin, as I remember there were 3 times the convetty appear, on 2!3, Spring Day, and maybe Wings? I forgot but the convetty was really beautiful, really, i'm cryin :)))   And we arrived at 2!3! And i couldn’t hold my tears any longer, not that i'm not crying start from their solo stage, but it really make me cry because we sang our sang project to tell how we love Bangtan and my tears keep fallin, sorry for my sentimentil heart, but I really love this song lyk i love Bangtan and l really love them, all 7 of them.  And when Spring Day began, i couldn't even cry anymore i was awestruck that i don't do anything i was just keep watching people i don't even see the screen until the "Oooo oooo oooo" part, at the end, i was cryin, the encore was so good, the Bangtan was so cute, and they were all.... What can i say, really behave lyk themselves i saw in youtube, video, or whatever, lyk they are really theirselves, i'm proud of them for being human, people, and i still can't forgot them till now.  But there is just one thing i've really disapointed. My phone, my holy phone. THERE IS NO STORAGE THERE THAT I COULDN'T SAVE MANY VIDEOS I WANT TO CRY!!! Lyk because of these fuckin phone i can't concentrate myself to watch them, i lost some great moment because i don't pay attention to the screen or BTS, i wanna cry again. Lyk when the VCR about Hobi is playing, when Jin blow the kiss, and many more, i don't even realize that Yoongi is going to our section, but it's not because my phone it's just because i really awestruck seeing him on the screen that he is actually came near to my section i want to cry. Then there is a girl in front of me that always took the video with her phone that i can't even looking to the screen freely. She blocked up my vision!!!! Huhu i wanna cry, and because of my height, i'm only 148 cm, so little right, i HAVE TO stand in my toe like a ballerina, lyk, really, it's the most tire thing from the beginning of concert.  But, overall the concert was fine, though i can't even remember them right, what's wrong with my brain? Hm, but deep inside my heart, i swear, if there will be another concert i will watch them in the closest section, f**k money, i can make them with my own, i will get the chance to make an eye contact with them and make a baby (?) LOL  And for the promotor, IME INDONESIA, thank you so much for bringin' BTS to Indonesia, and thanks for your hospitality that i could watch them almost near, they are so close yet so far, and a lil bit suggestion for your next concert please make the audio louder next time lyk with just only the audio i can feel my heart beat fast. I was longing to hear their voice through my ear, but all i can hear is some fans screamin lyk some possessed girl.  Thank you for the concert and see you, BTS in another occasion 
PS. 
I love you Min Yoongi, but Kim Namjoon steal my heart last night, and even Jin and Jimin has a great eyebrow lyk really!!! They have a great eyebrow! Also J-Hope YOU ARE SO HANDSOME WITH THOSE BLACK HAIR OF YOURS lyk, you are good, yet sexy, yet great, and so on. Kim Taehyung and Joon Jungkook? YOU GUYS AWESOME and sexy and thanks for the wink at the encore Tae, could i kiss your eyes after this? AND THANK YOU JUNGKOOK FOR BRINGING THOSE DERP FACE POSTER I'M LAUGHING lyk they are so cute, i want to see them up close, hope i could see you another year, and Jin, i'm waiting to see your blowkiss up close yeah, and Jimin, don't be shy, you are as handsome as ever lyk YOU REALLY ARE, KKEPPJJANG!!! MANTAP!! EDAN!! I LOVE YOU BTS 
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