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javiscigarette · 5 months

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Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help.

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp.

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time”

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort.

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face.

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out.

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily.

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea.

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself.

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back.

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm.

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod.

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt.

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing.

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body.

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek.

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.”

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment.

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way”

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.”

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again.

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.”

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile.

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists.

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt.

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing.

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly.

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer.

“I sure do.”

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can.

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath.

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit.

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him.

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now.

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically.

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge.

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth.

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again.

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him.

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless.

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him.

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans.

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick.

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

6K notes · View notes

neil-gaiman · 9 months

Note

HELLO MR GAIMAN MY SCHOOL IS HAVING A CAREERS TALK AND I AM MEANT TO ASK SOMEONE ABOUT THEIR CAREER.

UNFORTUNATELY, EVERYONE I KNOW IS A DOCTOR (WELL NOT REALLY UNFORTUNATELY, BUT IN THE GRAND SCOPE OF CAREER FAIR THINGS. I WANT TO PRESENT A JOB THAT WOULD INSPIRE THOSE WHO ARE INVESTED IN WRITING AND DIFFER FROM OTHERS). WOULD YOU PLEASE MIND ANSWERING THESE QUESTIONS FOR ME? THANK YOU SO MUCH, KING. YOU ARE AMAZING AND I ADMIRE YOUR WORK GREATLY.

(I WOULD GOOGLE THIS INFO BUT APPARENTLY I'M MEANT TO ASK YOU THIS YOURSELF.)

What is your job title?

Do you work for a company? If so, which one?

What does your job involve on a daily basis?

Do you have qualifications directly related to this job?

What has been your career path?

Did you do A levels at school? If so, were they directly relevant to your career path?

Did you go to university? If so, what did you study? Was your degree relevant to your current job?

Any tips to those unsure about their own career paths?

Thank you so so much !!!!!! You are an icon and I must thank you for writing the graveyard book, which helped my imagination as a kid a lot, and also in general. You are wonderful !!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you once more <3

What is your job title? Author and (currently on strike) showrunner. Also, Professor in the Arts at Bard College.

Do you work for a company? If so, which one? As a showrunner I work for Amazon Prime and Netflix, as an Author I work for myself and companies publish what I write. As a professor for Bard College.

What does your job involve on a daily basis? Writing. Right now, being on strike.

Do you have qualifications directly related to this job? Nope.

What has been your career path? Freelance journalist, to writer of books and comics and television and films. Since 2017 I've been showrunner of Good Omens as well.

Did you do A levels at school? If so, were they directly relevant to your career path? I never did.

Did you go to university? If so, what did you study? Was your degree relevant to your current job? I didn't.

Any tips to those unsure about their own career paths? Have an idea of what you want to do and keep heading towards that goal.

4K notes · View notes

berryhobii · 1 month

Text

Baby Mama Drama(jjk x reader)

Pairing: BabyDaddy!Jeon Jungkook x BabyMama!Female!Reader

Word Count: 3.2K+

Warnings: reader and Jungkook coparent, they have a daughter who is mentioned but doesn’t appear in the story, reader and Jungkook technically aren’t together but they still love each other and fool around🥴, reader irritates the hell out of JK but he can’t stay mad at them, reader is definitely a little toxic, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), oral(m and f receiving), 69 position, the sloppiest of top, face riding, fingering, reverse cowgirl, reader rides like a pro, missionary, reader has a tattoo🤭, reader is also dragging that wagon, reader also also has that certified WAP, reader is flexible, squirting, unprotected s*x(don’t do this and then turn into this couple), creampie, dirty talk, one face slap, multiple ass slaps like seriously JK is obsessed with reader’s badonk a donk, a little degradation and a dash of dumbification

A/N: I’M BACK EVERYONE!🥳for anyone who didn’t read my last post, my tumblr was suspended for a little while so that’s why I wasn’t posting. Anyway, it’s over so I’m back to work. This is a piece inspired by @joonberriess and their Sleazy!JK storyline. Shoutout to them. I love everything about the way they write JK and reader so definitely check them out if you haven’t already! Their stories make me want a sleazy baby daddy who can’t leave me the hell alone but I know I’ll never be able to handle that in real life so fictional is good enough for me!🤣this fic is just kind of a reverse of theirs where I made reader a sleazy and jealous baby mama. I know this kind of behavior is a stereotype among the black community but I am in no way condoning it. It’s just fiction and meant to be entertaining. Anyway, please let me know what you guys think as I am always open to criticism and please look forward to my upcoming posts! Much love and thanks for reading 🤎🤎🤎

“So, do you have any kids?”

Taking a sip of his drink, Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, one. A daughter. You?”

“Two. Their father is an absolute nightmare though. Thank goodness we have a court order. I can’t even be in the same room as him without wanting to pull all my hair out.” She bitterly laughed with a shake off her head, tossing the rest of her drink back. “What about you? Is your child’s mother a monster?”

Jungkook titled his head, a strained chuckle leaving him. “Um, well she’s…..something.”

The woman hummed. “I get it. A real bitch, huh? I hate women like that. Ones who can’t let their baby daddy’s go and are somehow always around. So annoying. Like don’t you have something better to do?”

“Yeah and I do it 4 times a week in my Queen sized bed.”

Jungkook stiffened at the sound of that familiar voice. There was only one person he knew that spoke that crassly to strangers.

The scent of your perfume and the smell of the mousse you used on your braids invaded his space and solidified that shit was about to go downhill.

The woman, who’s name he don’t think he ever caught, made a noise of surprise once you appeared before her. Your body stood right between her and Jungkook, forcing her to step back a little. Arms crossed over your chest and hip cocked out to the side, your eyes roamed up and down this woman’s body in a scrutinizing manner.

“And who are you?”

Leaning back a little, you plopped yourself right on Jungkook’s lap.

Looking her up and down once more, you answered simply with a big smile, “I’m unimpressed. Nice to meet you.”

Ignoring you for a moment, the woman looked around you to make eye contact with Jungkook who was shooting her a look that screamed, “please walk away!” She didn’t really understand what was going on. Who were you and why did you walk into their conversation on 10 like that? It was one thing to interrupt a conversation but to be that disrespectful to someone you didn’t even know? That didn’t go down well in her book.

Copying your previous stance, the woman replied, “Well I’m unimpressed with your attitude. Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”

“No but she taught me to how to wrap a bitch’s hair around my wrist and keep swinging until my arm gets tired.” Your smile was sugary sweet but your words cut deep like knives. The woman was stunned. No one has ever spoken to her this way and it was a rude awakening. She didn’t even know how to respond.

Not wanting to see you demonstrate your mother’s teachings, Jungkook quickly stood to his feet. “Well, we should really be going. It was nice meeting you. Let’s go.” He grabbed your arms to start pushing you away from the woman.

“No it wasn’t!” You called out, both of you leaving the shocked woman by herself.

Once you two had made it outside, Jungkook’s frustration boiled over.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why is it everytime I meet someone, you show up and scare them off? We aren’t together anymore. Is it not getting through your head? Like what the hell-“

His rant was flying right over your head because all you could focus on was how unbelievably sexy he looked today. How dare he walk outside like that? And he was going to waste all of that on some random stranger in a bar? Yeah right. Not as long as you had a say about it.

Your greedy eyes trailed from the top of his head to those bulging veins in his neck and down to his soft cock that was pressing against his jeans. Whew, just imaging that monster had your panties sticking to you. It was so big and warm and when he was giving you back shots…..

“Are you listening to me?”

You blinked a few times, your eyes slowing raising until they met the searing glare of your baby daddy.

“Uh yeah. Something about airline prices. So what are you doing tonight?”

Jungkook couldn’t fucking believe you. God you pissed him off to no end but he always had a way of letting off some steam.

“Let’s go. Now.”

“Yes sir.” You purred with that mischievous glint in your eye. Jungkook’s own eye twitched at the implications behind your tone but he decided to ignore it in favor of turning around to begin walking to his car, you hot on his heels and a Cheshire like grin on your face because you were getting what you wanted.

The drive back to his place was quiet, as was the ride up the elevator and the living room as he moved to sit down. He didn’t even raise his eyes to look at you once since you got in the car. Although you could see right through his petty act.

Flopping down on the couch next to him, your head leaning against your hand, you said, “come on, baby. You’re not still mad at me, are you? I said I’m sorry.”

No answer.

Moving closer to him, your hand trailed over his chest and up to his face to turn his head to face you, lips just centimeters apart. This wouldn’t be the first time you were on the receiving end of his heated glare and it certainly wouldn’t be the last but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on.

“What do I have to say for you to forgive me? I hate when you’re mad at me, baby.”

“Then stop doing shit that pisses me off and I won’t be.” He fired back, that low tone of his sending shocks down your spine.

“I’m sorry. Now let me make it up to you.” He could pick up on that sultry voice anywhere and those bedroom eyes you were currently shooting him was a dead giveaway as well.

He rolled his eyes. “You need to stop expecting dick everytime you come over here. It’s not gonna fix anything.”

Gasping dramatically, you moved back a little to hold a hand to your chest in faux offense. “You wound me, tater tot. I came here with pure intentions to apologize to you. Can a woman not apologize to her baby daddy without him thinking she has an ulterior motive?”

An unimpressed look crossed Jungkook’s face from your dramatics and from that stupid pet name you gave him all those years ago.

“Whatever.” He mumbled. “Fine. I accept your apology. Just don’t do it again.” A warning that fell on deaf ears because yeah, you’d definitely do it again if needed but for now, you’d bask in his forgiveness.

“Thank you, baby. You know I only want to make you happy.”

“You do,” he whispered, those doe eyes lifting to connect with yours.

Your lips met, your hands pushing Jungkook back against the arm of the couch to climb into his lap. He went willingly, melting into your touch and the feeling of your plump lips. His own hands traveled up your thighs to squeeze at the plushness of your ass, his grip forcing your covered cunt to rub against his growing erection.

His grunts mixed with your low hum of pleasure as you grinded against one another but Jungkook could only tolerate about a minute of that before he started getting impatient.

Groaning against your lips, he struggled out a, “fuck. Sit it on already.”

The sounds of your giggles made him pause, eyes cracking open and his eyebrow raising because what the hell was so funny?

“Oh nothing.” You said as if reading his mind. “I just remember a very certain someone saying not to expect dick everytime I come here yet that same person is telling me to sit on his dick. How the tables have turned.”

Rolling his eyes yet again, Jungkook suddenly heaved himself up, forcing you backwards. Your giggles increased, the contagion of your amusement finally breaking him and stretching a full blown smile across his face.

“You’re so goofy.”

“Then do something about it, Mickey.”

In a show of strength that turned your panties from a pool into a water park, Jungkook heaved you over his shoulder, hand coming down on the fat of your ass.

“I’ll do something about it alright.”

Once you made it to the bedroom, Jungkook tossed you down onto the bed and was about to climb on top of you but you were a little quicker. Grabbing his arm, you pulled him down until he was flat on his back with you straddling his waist—his hard cock pressed right against your clothed cunt, just waiting to be released.

Leaning down, you captured him in another kiss while he captured your ass in his grip.

“Damn I love this ass….” He murmured into your lip lock which made you giggle.

After deeming him throughly kissed, you sat up to take in his flushed face and reddened lips. Perfect.

“Forgive me yet?”

He hummed, fingers playing with the hem of your top. “Maybe after you take this off.”

Ever so compliant, you gripped both sides of your shirt and pulled it over your head to reveal your bare breasts to Jungkook. His eyes could have popped out of his head, the groan he let out a mixture of arousal and slight irritation.

“You’re not wearing a bra?”

Shrugging one shoulder, you simply answered, “I knew I was coming here. What’s the point? Do you want to know if I’m wearing underwear?” That cheeky smile answered the question for him and it only sunk him further into the already unhealthy infatuation he had with you.

Gripping your ass, he roughly grinded your cunt down on his erection. The friction made both of you gasp, the air starting to feel electric as desperation began eating at both of you.

It didn’t take long for both of you to undress each other. Jungkook helped you wiggle out of those tiny shorts you wore, letting out a curse as a little drip of sticky arousal snapped back against your inner thigh. Sitting up, he grabbed the back of his shirt to pull it over his head and toss it somewhere in the room. Now you could feast your eyes on the hard planes of his body and trace your fingers those intricate tattoos that marked up his skin.

Leaning down once again, you trailed kisses from that sweet spot on his neck, down his chest and over his abs until you reached your destination. Your eyes never left his as you began your descent, hands tugging at the waistband of his jeans to pull them down and Jungkook helped kick them off. You licked your lips at the sight of Jungkook’s hard cock slapping against his abs once you freed it from the confines of his pants . He could see that hungry look in your eye, smirking as he took hold of his erection and began lightly pumping it; a motion that drove you fucking crazy was watching him stroke himself. It just did something to you.

“You want it, bug?” He teased to which you nodded frantically.

“Yes, baby. Give it to me.” Opening your mouth, you held your tongue out to lick at it, Jungkook hissing at the contact. He slapped it against your wet muscle a few times before letting the tip slip in your mouth. You immediately wrapped your lips around it, suckling at it like a desperate whore. Which you were but only for him. No one else could make you act like this.

You replaced his hand with your own, licking and spitting all over his cock to lubricate it. Taking him down your throat, you began bobbing your head up and down, making sure to twist your wrist just the way he liked it.

Jungkook let out a series of low moans, curses, and the tiniest of whines everytime you went down. One hand gripped at the ponytail you put your braids up in and one hand behind his head, he let you take the lead. You knew just how he liked it, just the way to flick your wrist and tighten your throat to throw him over the edge in minutes.

Coming off him with a wet cough, you continued to stroke his cock, your spit soaking your own hand but that only helped the glide. Your hazy and hungry eyes stared right into his, your chin and mouth soaked in saliva. “I love this cock so fucking much.” You gasped before taking it back down your throat and bobbing your head.

Tossing his head back, Jungkook let out a strangled moan, forcing your head down. You let him, of course, relaxing your throat so he could fuck up into your mouth.

“Come sit on my face, baby. Right fucking now.” He demanded.

Pulling off him a little, you maneuvered your body until your pussy was right over his face—69 style. He gripped both of your ass cheeks in his palms, pulling you down until he could suck your neglected clit into his mouth.

You let out a sharp gasp around his cock, finally getting some type of relief. Sucking his cock made you a different type of horny and he could see that with the way your cunt was dripping.

His mouth and tongue started going crazy, ravenous as he alternated between sucking and licking, making sure to dip his tongue in your opening every once in a while. His hands continued to slap and grip at your ass, one wandering sometimes to pull your slippery lips apart so he could really get in there.

His hand trailed down from your ass to your tight opening, squeezing a finger into your spasming walls. He located that sweet spot with practiced ease, slipping in another finger in beside it and stretching your snug cunt open. The squelching of your walls was like music to his ears, adding to the salacious ‘gluck gluck’ noises your throat was making as you swallowed his cock.

Since you were horny on your way here, it didn’t take long for that feeling to start burning hot in your belly.

You pulled off his cock but continued to stroke him, your cheek resting against his thigh as high pitched moans left your lips.

Jungkook flattened his tongue, his grip on your ass guiding you to rut against his face. The fat of your ass almost suffocated him but Jungkook couldn’t imagine going out any other way. He hooked his fingers right into your gspot, your eyes rolling back and head hanging low as you used him for your pleasure.

“Oh yes! Oh yes, daddy! You’re gonna make me cum!” Lifting your head, you took his cock back into your mouth, burying it all the way to the hilt in your throat. Jungkook’s hips jumped, him groaning against your clit, the vibrations sending shocks right through you.

A few swallows around his cock and a few more jabs to that spot inside of you and both of you were cumming. Your body tensed, hips rutting faster against his face to ride it out. He thrusted his hips up once, twice, three times before letting out a drawn out moan as he pumped his release down your waiting throat. Your body shivered as buzzing pleasure raced down your back and to your toes. You don’t think you’ve had an orgasm like that since…….three days ago when Jungkook ate you out in his car after he had to pick you up because you forgot to get gas.

Amazing car head aside, the party wasn’t over yet.

“Sit on it, bug. Hurry.” Jungkook rushed you, tapping your ass a few times, his breath labored and tone dripping with desperation.

Good thing you were just as eager because you crawled forward on your weak knees until he was lined up with your entrance. Reaching between your legs, you held his wet cock steady as you slid down on it. Jungkook’s hands held your ass cheeks apart to watch, eyes blurring slightly as your hot, tight, and gushing walls wrapped around him. You weren’t faring much better, your head knocking back as his thick cock stretched you to your limits. It didn’t matter how many times you had taken his cock, the pure g i r t h always knocked the breath out of you. This is why you couldn’t leave him alone, his cock was just too fucking good. You’d be damned if you ever let someone else take it from you.

Once you were settled to the hilt, your body leaned all the way forward to rest between his legs and you began bouncing your ass on his cock.

Jungkook was mesmerized by how your fat ass rippled and moved against his pelvis. At this moment, he didn’t give a damn how many women you threatened or how much you pissed him off; just the sight of your ass and the feeling of your juicy cunt wrapped around him was enough to make him remember another reason why he couldn’t let you the hell go. He loved your pussy too much. And if that wasn’t enough, the sight of that tiny ‘♡JK’ tatted on your left ass cheek certainly let him know.

Jungkook’s hands came down to slap repeatedly on your bouncing ass. “Faster baby. Fuck, this ass is so good!” The seat of your ass was wet from a combination of spit and cum, the wet slapping noises filling the space. Your moans were in competition with the clapping of your ass, your cheek pressed against the sheets and your nails digging into his calves.

“Ahhh! This cock is so b-big,” you whine, “love it so much…..right there….! Oohhhh-ohhhh fuck!”

Lifting up a little and adjusting your knees to a better position, you began throwing yourself down on his cock, the head brushing against every spot you had and sending you reeling. You’d come all the way up until just the tip was inside before slamming back down, the bed shaking underneath the force. Jungkook’s toes curled, your cunt gripping him tighter than a vice.

He was about 98% sure his soul left his body, eyes rolling and head knocking back against the pillows as his lungs struggled for air.

Not able to hold it anymore, Jungkook was quickly flipping your positions. Now it was your turn to be on your back, your legs spread in a wide V shape, his cologne invading your senses and his lips covering yours. He was everywhere, all over you. Your skin was on fire from his touch, sweat soaking your back and air becoming sparse as he kissed away what little oxygen you had left. You were obsessed with him. He was yours as you were his. Nothing would ever change that.

His cock buried itself back into your walls, a deep moan of pleasure getting caught in your throat once he began jackhammering into you. Your hands gripped the bottom of your feet, keeping them apart so he could continue to plow into your soft spot. His hips moved like a well oiled machine, making noisy contact with your ass with every thrust.

Your mouth dropped open, “oh my…..fffucking g-god…!” Tears welled up in your eyes as blinding pleasure spread over every nerve in your body.

Jungkook grunted, his own pleasure peaking at the sight of your fucked out face.

“Yeah? You about to cum? Are you gonna what the fuck I say and stop acting so fucking jealous? Huh?” Drool dripped down the sides of your mouth as you tried to form sentences but hurried ‘yes yes yes’ were the only words you could manage. “How many times do I have to fuck you before you get that through your thick head? I only want you. Fuck you push my fucking buttons but I know it’s just because you want me to fill up this tight cunt, isn’t that right?” A slap came across your cheek, orgasm crashing into your body without warning from the sudden strike.

Jungkook could feel wetness soaking his pelvis and cock, jaw tightening as he began moving even harder—the headboard knocking into the wall so hard that he doesn’t think he’ll get his security deposit back for this place.

“Juicy fucking cunt squirting all over me. Mhmmmm….I’m gonna fill this pussy up. You want that? Want me to send you home with my cum running down your legs?”

Your ears were ringing, his dirty talk propelling you right into another endless orgasm, your toes curling in the air as blissful overstimulation began to take over.

Jungkook wasn’t far behind, a few more thrusts and he was burying himself deep in your sopping cunt. His cock throbbed inside you, the thickness pressing right into your abused gspot. Your hands released your feet to scramble against his back, sharp acrylics digging into his skin and making him hiss in slight pain.

“Ohhhhhh shittttttt….fuck baby,” He groaned out as he pumped creamy ropes inside your clenching pussy, your spasming walls sucking him in and milking him for everything he was worth.

Both of you collapsed from exhaustion, Jungkook’s face planting itself in your breasts and your legs falling weakly to the bed with a light thump. Only the sounds of your heavy breathing filled the room, both of your hearts beating wildly as you two came down.

“So am I forgiven?” You asked as you two soaked in the tub, the scent of an apple scented bath bomb wafting around the room.

Jungkook was behind you, head leaned back against the wall as he tried not to fall asleep. “I guess so. Just stop doing that, okay? It’s so embarrassing.”

“Deal.”

A beat of silence washed over the room, just the sound of water lapping against the sides of the tub filling the space.

“One more time.” You suddenly said.

“Huh?”

“You asked me how many times do you have to fuck me before I get it through my thick head to stop being jealous. I think one more will do the trick.”

Jungkook let out a chuckle, opening his eyes only to find your beautiful irises staring back at him with that playful and lustful glint.

“You’re impossible.” He scoffed with an endearing shake of his head.

“But you love me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

#bts #bts x black reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook

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eevees-hobbies · 18 days

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How the Hashira sleep with you and your 9-month-old between you

Author's Note: I was up at 2 AM last night writing in my notes app because this idea struck me. This is my first time writing headcanons, but as always, I’m inspired by some of the fantastic ideas of other content creators!

Content Warning: You have a child with your partner, and they sleep in bed with you. There is also a brief mention of breastfeeding. This will not be for you if you’re sensitive to those things. This is pure fluff.

How the Hashira sleep with you and your 9-month-old between you

Contains: Rengoku, Uzui, Iguro, Shinazugawa & Tomioka

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyo was meant for this. There’s no reality in which Kyojuro doesn’t want to be a father to as many kids as you’re willing to give him. His arm is always wrapped around you both—having you and the baby in the same room as you all sleep, being able to provide comfort, body heat, and a sense of protection, brings him so much joy.

Kyojuro wakes up periodically during the night to look at you both as you sleep. He will also pay extra attention to checking on your child, placing a large hand on their small frame and feeling the rise and fall of their chest; he’ll smile to himself—his child is happy, healthy, and safe.

Rengoku is also great at soothing the baby when they wake up: “Shhh, little one. Let’s let mommy sleep.”

Nine times out of ten, he’ll be able to put your baby back down to sleep. The one time he can’t, the child will need to be fed, and Rengoku swells with pride as he watches you nurse them.

Once you’re done nursing, he’ll quickly run to get you some water and a small snack because he knows it takes a lot of energy to breastfeed.

“You’re a good mother,” he says as he strokes your hair, looking over your shoulder at your milk-drunk child. “I can’t wait to do this again and again.”

Tengen Uzui

Tengen is annoyed when you place the child next to you—you didn’t even ask him! You explain that it’s easier for night feedings, and the baby sleeps better between you both. He admits it’s true, and the change drastically improved his own sleep.

But Tengen HATES giving up the level of intimacy he had with you and many times ponders if kicking the baby out would be the obvious solution. With venom in your tone, you assure him there’s no need to bother his pretty little head with such ridiculous thoughts. He is aghast, but admittedly, he likes that you’re protective of their child, even against him.

Eventually, the child moves to their room, and Tengen has you all back to himself during the night! And, oh, has he missed it.

Obanai Iguro

Obanai really wishes he could get his bed back and is grumpy at first as despite his small stature, he takes up a LOT of space when sleeping.

But his heart melts as your child always curls up against him, seeking his father’s warmth and comfort. He’ll stare down at them, still unable to believe he contributed to something so beautiful and perfect.

He’ll plant a kiss on his child’s small tuft of black hair and then on the crown of your head, his arm snaking around his child, and holding your hand while you sleep quietly. So yeah, he’ll start off annoyed, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When you suggest moving the child out of your shared room, Obanai is taken aback.

“Let’s not be too hasty! They sleep so well with us.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi grew up sleeping in the same room as his family, so he isn’t surprised or put out that the baby sleeps between you both.

He’d never admit it, but he feels a lot less anxiety at the thought of something happening to you and your child when you’re all sleeping together.

Sure, sometimes he’ll wake up with a baby foot in his mouth or get woken up by a sleepy yet firm baby smack to his face, but he’ll grumble lovingly and drift back off to sleep, finding comfort in the fact that his family is safe and sound.

Sometimes, Sanemi has to pull the baby off you at night when it spreads its limbs over your face.

“Hey, get back here!”

Giyu Tomioka

Giyu is not a fan of a baby sleeping in his bed and will likely never be. He misses cuddling with you, holding your hand as you sleep, and waking up as the little or big spoon to your duo.

It’s hard to be a spoon in a trio—he feels more like a fork.

He’s an amazing father, though, and leads the nighttime routine of bath time, bedtime stories, and gently rocking the small baby in his arms.

Eventually, he’ll rearrange the futons so that you’re between the baby and himself, which is his way of getting to spoon you again. Clever!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro smut #headcanon #tengen uzui #obanai iguro #kny reader insert #sanemi shinazugawa #giyuu tomioka #fluff #kny fluff #sw fanfic

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scalingsvt8thusiast · 2 months

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Wait for your love (angst)

summary: you wait in silence, waiting for wonwoo to finally love you

inspired by Ariana Grande's We Can't be Friends (AKA Wait for your love)

a/n: I wrote this in a fever dream, some suggestive themes but nothing much apart from that. It's a 2 part fic. so look out for part 2 I guess :D

I didn’t think you’d understand me

You remembered the first interaction you had with Wonwoo. You had asked him for help with some maths question back in high school.

“I don’t think that’s the right answer…” You whispered, watching him flush red as he rummaged through his pencil case clumsily looking for his eraser.

“My maths isn’t very good!” He cried, erasing the answer that was so far off.

“Oh! How about we try this!” You stuck your tongue out as you worked on the question using another method.

The both of you flipped to the back of the book to check the answer. You remembered the look of awe Wonwoo gave you when your answer was right.

Wonwoo was the quiet kid, the one who sat at the last row of class, always looking out the window, not paying attention in class. He wasn’t a star student or an athlete so on the popularity scale he was basically non-existent. You weren’t far off either. Pigtails and braces meant you weren’t much higher than him on that god-forsaken scale. But that’s what brought the two of you together.

After that first interaction, you started warming up to your quiet seatmate. You joined him in the cafeteria, asked him out on study dates, even dragging him to his first hangout. You liked to think that he just accepted his fate, the two of you were destined to be friends.

Somewhere along the line of your friendship, you started developing feelings for the scrawny boy. You couldn’t pin point exactly when or what caused your infatuation. You just remembered realising his facial features were so sharp, his shoulders were so broad and his hands were so large and warm. Was it when your hands met in the popcorn tub during the Star Wars reruns at your local cinema? Was it when you stared too deeply into his eyes during a round of cards? Was it when he picked you up and ran a whole lap around the park to prove a point?

You couldn’t remember. But it felt like you had been liking him for the longest time.

I’ll wait for your love

Everything changed after graduation.

The break before university was due to start, you had gone off to stay with relatives in Paris while Wonwoo had gone off to stay with his brother in Seoul. The two of you were scheduled to attend the same universities, even scheduled to live together. It was only natural considering how long you two had been friends. He would arrive from Seoul first and you were due to arrive 2 weeks after, just in time for the first day of school.

You were thoroughly surprised by the boy man who greeted you at the front door.

“Wonwoo?” You said, blinking rapidly.

Where was the scrawny, skinny boy you were familiar with? Who replaced him with this tall, handsome and extremely well built man?

“Y/n!” Wonwoo beamed at you, immediately helping you with your bags.

You were momentarily taken aback by his voice. His high pitched, nasally voice had developed into a deep baritone.

“How was Seoul?” You had managed to croak out, still dumb struck by the massive change your best friend went through.

“Great. I actually met quite a few friends in the same uni.” Wonwoo’s eyes held an excited glint.

You hummed, wondering how your anti-social and shy friend had managed to become a social butterfly.

You should have known that was the first sign of the inevitable downfall of your friendship.

Throughout the next few weeks, you were busy trying to get settled into your new life while Wonwoo was busy partying his life away. He would leave each night and return at wee hours of morning.

You remembered the first time you went to pick him up.

“Y/n,” He drawled over the phone.

You turned to check the clock, it was 4AM. “Wonwoo?”

“Can you come-,” A loud cheer erupted in the background. “Can you come get me?”

“Oh, ok!” You said, pushing your blanket aside. “Text me the add-,”

He hung up.

DING

You received the location from him.

Trying to look as presentable as possible, you hopped into your car. Driving to your best friend with Google Maps as guidance.

You arrived at the party, expecting Wonwoo to be waiting for you by the road, ready to leave. But he was nowhere to be found. Wonwoo wasn’t waiting for you in front of the house, he wasn’t even standing with the groups of people near the front door.

You tried his phone again but you were sent straight to voicemail. You jumped out of the car and went into the house. You tried your best to push through the multitudes of drunk people, looking for your best friend. Finally you found him, playing beer pong and boy, did he suck.

“Won?” You said, coming up next to him.

“Y/N!” He shouted, throwing his arms around you, dragging you into his chest for a hug.

“Won, let’s go.” You coaxed, your nose crinkled from the strong stench of alcohol.

“Everybody!” Wonwoo bellowed, “This is my friend! Y/N!”

You were horrified as everybody turned to look at you. You gave an awkward smile and squeezed his arm.

“Wonwoo, let’s go, please.” You begged, you had a class in 2 hours and you wanted to get home in time for at least 1 more hour of sleep.

“But y/n, you just got here!” Wonwoo whined, he pouted.

“Oh God, Woo, please.” You implored, biting your lip. You weren’t comfortable, you didn’t know anybody here and you had an overgrown child hanging onto you.

“Okay,” Wonwoo quipped. “But only because you asked nicely.”

That was how you managed to get your housemate home.

Wonwoo never apologised. He didn’t speak to you the whole week, he kept himself shut in his room while you went about your day. You tried knocking on his door, offering some food you had made but he never responded.

After that incident, you noticed that he would do it more often. He would call you at odd hours of the morning, asking you to come pick him up, flirt with you then subsequently pass out on the couch.

You found yourself getting hopeful. You deluded yourself into thinking that Wonwoo was doing this because you were the only person he trusted. You just had to wait a little longer for him to realise his feelings for you. You just had to wait.

“Y/n, I love you soooo much,” Wonwoo slurred, you had slung one of his arms around your shoulder, walking him to your car.

“Won, please.” You said, trying your best not to be effected by his empty words. You pushed him against the car while you fumbled for your car keys.

Suddenly you felt your world spin, when it stopped you were face to face with your best friend. Wonwoo had flipped you over, your back now pressed against the car, his arms to your sides, caging you. His face was a whole ten centimetres away from yours. You could feel his breath on your face, your heart beat rapidly rising, one of your hands gripping his bicep to keep yourself steady.

“Y/n, you’re so pretty.” He muttered, he placed a hand on your cheek. His eyes were on your lips. His tongue licking his own.

“You’re drunk.” You whispered, you used all your strength to push against his chest.

He didn’t move. Next thing you know, his lips were on yours.

That was how you lost your first kiss to your best friend.

You cling to your papers and pens, wait until you like me again

After that kiss (wherein he subsequently passed out on you), Wonwoo seemed to avoid you even more.

He no longer called you when he needed a ride home, instead his friends would send him home. You had met 3 of his friends: Mingyu, Vernon and Seungcheol. They each seemed to take turns dragging Wonwoo’s drunk ass into the house. Surprisingly they would all be sober each time. Which made you wonder if Wonwoo just had a habit of calling random people to send him home.

“Y/n?” Wonwoo’s voice came.

You shot up from the dining table, you had just been busy revising for your upcoming tutorial. Wonwoo never spoke to you, so this was a shock.

“I was wondering,” He cleared his throat, “could you help me with this?”

You blinked, he was holding a few pieces of paper.

“Sure!” You chirped, a little too cheerily.

Of course you would help your best friend. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t spoke to you in months. It didn’t matter that he had ignored you when you tried to wave at him on campus. It didn’t matter that he pretended not to know you among his new friends.

Wonwoo was your best friend, so you were going to bury your feelings and help him.

“Thanks.” He smiled.

That smile that made your stomach do a summersault. That smile that threw you back to your teenage years, when he would smile at you and only you.

It became a routine. He only spoke to you when he needed help with work. Even though you weren’t in the same course as him, you found yourself studying up on what he needed, just so you could help him.

You found yourself staying up late, studying for both your finals as well as his finals. Just so when he came home the next day from some party, you could help him.

You helped him because that was the only chance you had to speak to him.

You helped him because that was the only time he showed you any attention.

You helped him because you loved him.

Just wanna let this story die

Wonwoo brought a girl home.

It was 4AM in the morning, you were cramming for your exams the next day after looking through Wonwoo’s materials for his tutorial the day after. You could literally feel your head overheating with all the knowledge you were shoving into your brain. You stood up, deciding to stretch out your unused muscles when you heard the front door open. It was opened with so much force that the door banged onto the wall, causing you to jump.

“Wony!!!” You heard a voice, it wasn’t that low voice you so loved from your house mate. It was a high pitched squeal which you were sure your house mate could not have produced.

A yelp could be heard followed by loud shushes.

You pushed your door open a smidge, peeking out into the hallway.

You blood ran cold.

Right by the front door was Wonwoo, making out with a girl.

You could feel a lump growing in your throat as you shut your door. You closed your eyes, trying your best to erase the sight. The image of your best friend’s lust-ladened eyes, arms encircled around another girl, lips on hers was burnt forever your memory.

You felt yourself crumple against the floor. Your stared blankly into space for what felt like hours. The pit in your stomach grew with every second that passed. When you finally found the energy, you crawled over to your bed. Tears seeped from the corner of your eyes as you buried your face into your pillow. Trying to muffle the loud moans and groans coming from the other room. You brought a hand to your mouth, trying not to make a sound as you cried yourself to sleep.

So for now it’s only me, and maybe that’s all I need

“He’s a fucking asshole.” Chan cursed.

You smiled weakly at your friend. The two of you sat in a booth at Chan’s favourite bar. You didn’t drink but he did. Chan had forced you out after you refused to leave your room for weeks.

“He knows you have feelings for him.” Chan hissed. “There’s no fucking way he doesn’t.”

You shrugged. After much pestering, you had finally relayed everything to Chan. Everything. From when you first met Wonwoo to when he brought a girl home.

“I thought I would wai-,” You voice came out as a whisper, ashamed.

“Please don’t tell me. Wait?” Chan finished for you, tilting his glass of beer towards you.

“Yup.” You said with a sigh.

“Why wait for someone like him? Why wait for someone who doesn’t even care about you?” Chan said, sounding angrier and angrier by the second.

His question stung. Deep down, you didn’t want to admit it, but you knew Wonwoo didn’t care about you. You knew he was just using you, keeping you around only because you made his life convenient.

“Move out.” Chan demanded.

“What?” You blurted, “Chan, I can’t just move out!”

“Yes you can.” Chan pointed to himself. “Move in with me, I have a spare room!”

“But what about Wonwoo?”

“What about that asshole?” Chan rolled his eyes.

“I can’t just leave him like that.” You said, exasperated. You weren’t about to leave your best friend alone.

“Why not?” Chan argued. “You think he won’t do the same to you? He’ll drop you the first chance he gets, y/n.”

You felt tears well up in your eyes. You loved Chan but there were times when he was too blunt.

“Chan, please.” You whispered, tears started rolling down your eyes.

“Ok, I’m sorry.” Chan immediately panicked. “I’m sorry I said that.”

He moved to sit next to you, rubbing your back as you sobbed into your bowl of fries.

You moved out the next day, without so much as a goodbye to your childhood friend.

a/n2: not very good at writing, quality is absolute crap imo considering i wrote this in under an hour. anything you guys think I should improve in lmk!

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latetaektalk · 9 months

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love to hate you | jjk [vii]

“when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.”

— genre: sexual themes, angst, fluff, fratboy! AU, fake dating! AU, college! AU, rich kid! AU, enemies to lovers! AU

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: 17.966

— warnings: swearing/cursing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, no communication skills whatsoever

— playlist: to be added

— a/n: after almost two years of no update its done. it would be a lie to say that i was always one hundred percent sure this was gonna see the light of day but its finally here, and im so so so happy to just put it out there and give it to you guys. @koocycle has listened to me bitch abt this one so much so thanks to her, also for kinda inspiring me to get back into tumblr.com and writing !! enjoy!! and once again, this is inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han!

“You’re really showing your wealth, you know?” you said as Jungkook slid into the driver’s seat, shutting out the cold air. He raised a brow, handing you the bag for you to hold onto, shivering slightly from the cold, his neck exposed to the harsh wind.

“How so?”

The engine sputtered to life as he slotted in the keys, his phone mounted to the dashboard, showing him the way. You pulled out the one-hundred-dollar expensive wine bottle from the bag, scrutinising it. Some of the glitter from the red ribbon the salesman had wrapped around it in an effort to be more festive and fitting today’s occasion peeled off.

“This is too much.”

“Yeah, I know, the bow’s tacky but I couldn’t stop Kangjoon from-”

“No, I mean the hundred bucks you dropped on it. It shows your wealth,” you repeated, scrunching your nose. “Also, didn’t know you were on a first name basis with the salesman.”

You let the bottle slip back into its bag, scared Jungkook was going to make a sharp stop and cause you to drop and waste the bottle. God knows you didn’t have one hundred bucks casually lying around like him—even though you were sure Jungkook wouldn’t make you replace it and would definitely just buy it again himself.

“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t like Kangjoon? He’s a great man, very competent.” And just as you were about to tell him that Kangjoon scammed him, Jungkook continued, “Also isn’t that the whole reason why you’re dating me? My wealth?”

He said it with a grin, turning to you as he let a family of four pass, receiving a thankful hand raise from both of the parents as they ushered their young children across the street. And even though he meant it purely as a joke, his smile and tone indicating as much, his words made you scrunch your face like you’d been stung by a bee.

“It’s so unnecessary. We wouldn’t know the difference between this and supermarket wine, and Chae literally said not to bring anything. She’s gonna scold you, you know?”

If it had gone your way, you’d have gotten the second cheapest bottle of semi-fancy alcohol they had and called it a day but Jungkook swiped his card before you could intervene, ever so easily charmed. Well, actually if it had gone your way at all, you wouldn’t have brought anything to begin with. Chaeyoung hated it if her guests brought anything anyway.

“Gotta impress your friends, don’t I? Can’t have them not like me,” he argued, and you rolled your eyes.

“First of all, no, you don’t-”

“You don’t want your friends to like your boyfriend?” Jungkook gasped, staring at you with his mouth agape and eyes wide as you came to a stop in front of a red light. You shook your head.

“No, can I speak?” you sighed, frowning as Jungkook laughed, clearly getting his kick out of annoying you. “My friends already like you, and you know that. We’re driving to Ji’s and Chae’s place now for a Christmas party. One that you were explicitly invited to. So I don’t believe you for a second when you say that you got this wine to impress them. Also, Chae said not to bring anything. You just like spending money.”

Jungkook pursed his lips, trying and failing to hide a grin. “Do I now?”

“Am I not exhibit A?”

He gave you a look as if to say touché.

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” he admitted. “But just so you know, I gladly spent my money on that wine if it means I’ll impress your friends and make them like me more. And I’m even more than happy to spend it on you, cabbage.”

He looked at you by the end of his words, flashing you a grin. A grin that made him look so pretty and adorable, that would have made your knees buckle if you hadn’t been sitting, that wrapped your heart into his grip even tighter. A grin that made you wonder if a parachute would be enough to stop your fall for him, or if you were simply doomed for this fate, for the bone crushing landing.

You turned your head to the window, glad to see you had made it to Jisoo’s and Chaeyoung’s place.

“I think you’re just happy to have an excuse to spend your money,” you mumble, pretending to busy yourself with the straps of the bag.

“Sure—” There was a shrug, and you should have prepared yourself for the worst, should know better by now that Jungkook couldn’t just agree with you and leave you in peace. “—or you’re just the love of my life, cabbage, and what’s mine is yours.”

The words remained casual on Jungkook’s tongue, easy as ever. And they remained difficult and frown-inducing for you.

“You’re-!”

A laugh bubbled up from Jungkook’s upon your silence, and though you were trying your deepest and most desperate to resist, your heart skipped a beat. It was fatal, cardiologists would say. How deeply you’d fallen, it was fatal. Your heart couldn’t be saved.

And as if he hadn’t said the most impossible thing ever, Jungkook pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine, a grin plastered on his lips.

“Alright, let’s-”

You yanked the door open, stepping (of course) in a puddle. With a groan and wince, you slammed the door shut. Your breath came out white and cloudy, December coming into its full swing. The weather had been harsher than ever—wind dragging on your skin until it was painful and tense, air cold enough to dry out your throat and mouth, every window coloured a milky white, and clouds hanging far and wide in the sky for every hour of the day. The urge to crawl back into the oh so warm car was strong. The urge to run away from Jungkook however was just that much stronger.

The bottle bumped your hip bone as you rushed towards Jisoo’s and Chaeyoung’s apartment building. You didn’t turn around as Jungkook called after you to wait with a laugh, fumbling to unhook his phone from the dashboard.

You reached the glass front door rather quickly, a handprint smudged across it that hadn’t been there last time. You cringed, but couldn’t think about it too much, worrying a lot more about the diminishing distance between Jungkook and you as you waited for one of your friends to open the stupid door for you. You knew for a fact they were already there, spotting Hoseok’s car parked on the side of the street. If he was there, Jimin was too, always catching a ride with him.

“Do you really think you can outrun me?” Jungkook called out, just a dozen steps behind you.

You pulled on the front door as if it made a difference, pressing the bell repeatedly. He slowed his walk, burying his hands into his pockets. All so very smug. Your features twisted into a frown.

“You’re so slow. You always run from me as if I won’t catch up with you in two-”

For once fate seemed to be on your side, the buzzer cutting through the air. The door almost hit you in the face when you yanked it open. You slammed it back shut again, just right in front of Jungkook’s nose. He pulled on the handle. The lock had clicked in. You watched his features twist as he realised he was too slow. His lips pressed together, curling inwards as he watched the biggest and proudest grin spread on yours.

“What were you saying? About me being too slow?” you said. A smile tucked on the corners of his mouth as he shook his head at you.

“Open up.”

He knocked on the glass, right in front of your nose.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

You put your hand to your ear, tilting your head.

“Just open up.”

“You gotta speak louder. I really can’t hear you with this door between-”

“Cabbage, you better open the door for me now, or I’m gonna make you regret it,” Jungkook said, narrowing his eyes, tongue poking in his cheek. And even though you were certain it was an empty threat—how was he going to make you regret it?—, you contemplated for just a second if maybe you should listen and open the door.

“I’m gonna count to three.”

You scoffed. Were you a kid? And even more so, what was Jungkook going to do to you? Were you going to cave because of an empty threat?

“Please do,” you smiled, eliciting one from Jungkook himself.

“Three.”

He raised a brow.

“Two.”

You folded your arms in front of your chest.

“One.”

A moment passed.

Nothing happened.

“Alright, fine,” Jungkook said before dramatically ringing the bell. And even though you rolled your eyes, you did inch back. He was going to chase you, that one was for sure.

The moment the buzzer rang, you took off. Jungkook let out a laugh.

“Now, you run?” he taunted, pulling the door open, his steps echoing through the hallway. You took two stairs at a time, yelping when you realised that Jungkook was hot on your tail. Maybe you should have run earlier. Or maybe you should have opened the door for him. But who were you, letting a guy threaten you? No less Jungkook of all people, that idiot.

You made it up the flight of stairs faster than you ever had, your lungs lit on fire. The front door already stood ajar for you. You could distantly hear Chaeyoung call out for Jisoo- A hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you back. Jungkook stood right in front of you, chest bumping into you, the biggest grin on his lips.

Shit.

“Gotcha.”

Your face soured.

“Oh, h-how are you?” you coughed with a smile, and he chuckled, never taking his eyes off of you even as he grabbed the bag from your hands and placed it down. You had completely forgotten about it. “Don’t look at me like this. T-that’s not fun.”

“Neither was having the door slammed in my face.”

You backed into the wall. Turns out being tough was a lot more difficult when there wasn’t a door to shield you and Jungkook was actually in front of you, just centimetres from your face and staring at you like you were his favourite thing in this entire world. His hand sneaked around your waist, slipping underneath your sweater, fingers grazing the small of your back. His touch was light and delicate, teasing in all the right ways. It was cold too, making you arch and almost wince. And it was all too much—a tingle spreading across your back, rushing straight to your heart.

“Any last words before I make you regret it?” Jungkook hummed, and you should snort and laugh because he should sound ridiculous. But somehow, his words made you tense, the mere thought making your head spin in rounds and rounds. You bit on your tongue, silencing any sound that might just want to crawl up your throat.

You shouldn’t let Jungkook be this close to you. You needed distance for your sanity. But you couldn’t bring it over your heart to push him away. You didn’t have it in you. Not when there was very much a part of you that wanted to find out what Jungkook exactly meant.

He drank you up with his eyes, gaze dark and full of something hazy. Full of something you couldn’t pinpoint. But you loved it, you did. Maybe a little too much even. You loved the way it made your heart thump and rumble in your chest, made you forget that this was too much and far and dangerous, that Jungkook and you should keep your distance because in just a few weeks all of this would be over and you’d go your merry ways. But right now, with your back against the wall and Jungkook caging you in, thrill and excitement rushing through every single one of your cells, you couldn’t stop. You didn’t think you ever could.

“Got nothing to say now, cabbage?”

And when you still wouldn’t respond, he smiled. His face inched closer to yours, his nose brushing yours. Your fingers itched to hold onto something, onto him, curling and uncurling in the air. Because you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. But you did, hands gripping his sweater as if you were lost in the sea and he was all you had to cling to.

You closed your eyes, anticipating and waiting for Jungkook to kiss you, your breath stuck in your chest. Any time now. It was going to happen-

“Oh my God, please don’t do this in my hallway.”

You whipped your head around, your heart dropping to the floor. Jisoo stood in the doorway, face twisted in utter disgust.

“Please, anywhere but my fucking hallway. That's all I’m gonna be able to think about. Seeing the two of you eating each other’s faces.”

There was even clearer disgust in her voice.

Oh God.

“Hello, Ji,” Jungkook smiled, and you expected him to back away from you, but he gave you no distance. He wasn’t even the slightest embarrassed, if anything you sensed the slightest annoyance swinging with his words.

“Please step away from her, Kook,” Jisoo asked, gesturing for him to move backwards. But he wasn’t all too eager to follow, staying cemented right in front of you, hands still around your waist. He paused to think.

“I’ve got a really expensive bottle of wine.” He pointed to the bag. “I’ll give it to you in exchange for five more minutes.”

“Oh, you brought something? Chae’s gonna kill you,” Jisoo laughed before changing her tune, tilting her head to the side. “But how expensive are we talking?”

“Like one hundred bucks.”

You stared holes into Jungkook, mouth agape. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Were you not right here too? Did you become air? It was like you were cattle being sold off.

“Oh,” Jisoo gasped before shrugging. “Okay, deal-”

“Yeah, no way,” you laughed before doing what you should have done earlier—you pushed Jungkook away, making him tumble backwards a little. You stepped around him.

“But, Y/N, it’s one hundred-”

“Ji!” you gasped, making her laugh and reach out for you. She wrapped her arms around your neck, giggling as she did.

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I would never,” she told you, and you raised a brow at her. “Right, Kook?”

“Yeah, we were just kidding.”

“I don’t- hey! I can see you two exchanging looks!” you gasped, neither of the two even trying to be subtle. “Do you think I’m blind?”

“Ha, funny, I think-” Jisoo cleared her throat. “—I think Chae is calling for me? Oh my God, do you hear that? Yes, I’m on my way, Chae!”

And as if she hadn’t just stabbed you in the back, she slipped inside. But not without grabbing the bag and thanking Jungkook for it. You rolled your eyes, turning to head inside when he cleared his throat.

Jungkook was staring at you with his brows raised, clearly expecting… something.

“What?” you barked. He gave you a smile before stretching out his hand. You groaned. “Seriously? We have to get inside-”

But he waved his hand around, not budging. Rolling your eyes and with a long exhale, you took his hand into yours.

“You’re a child-”

Jungkook pulled you towards him, shutting you up with a kiss. One hand cupped your cheek and the other rested on the small of your back, pushing you into him. The kiss was tender and soft, gentle and light. And still, it was enough to have your heart thumping louder and harder in your chest than ever before. You asked yourself if Jungkook could feel it at all. That heart of yours that was oh so tight in his grip. That heart of yours that was bleeding in your chest. That heart of yours already ached at the thought of this all ending in just a few weeks.

It was a lovely kiss, a devastatingly lovely kiss.

And when Jungkook pulled away, his eyes so full and beautiful, you felt gutted and empty. Because this meant nothing to him. This meant nothing at all. You looked away. Jungkook laughed, pulling you flush to his side, all too unaware.

“Let’s go?”

You nodded slightly.

Jimin was first to greet you, leaping up from the couch and pulling you into a hug. “You made it!”

“Took you long enough,” Taehyung mumbled, sipping on his beer, earning himself a look from Namjoon that he simply ignored. “We could hear you two yelling around in the hallway.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Tae,” Jungkook laughed, and the older one frowned at him.

“It’s December 10th.”

“In other words, it’s almost-”

“No, it’s not-”

Hoseok greeted you with a hug, ignoring Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s bickering because otherwise he would never get to say hello to you. “Looking good.”

“Thanks.” You stared at his sweater. “That’s one really ugly Christmas sweater.”

He laughed, thanking you. Seokjin and Namjoon were next to give you a quick hug, followed by Jennie and Yoongi, exchanging a few words with each of them. Taehyung and you stared at each other for a few seconds, neither of you saying anything. And though he tried to hide it, a smile formed on his lips. A smile you could only return. You blamed it on the holidays. They made you especially sappy and sentimental.

You were first to reach out. Taehyung reciprocated the hug. It was a little awkward and short and one-armed. It was more than anyone could ask of you. Jungkook nodded in both amazement and approval when you caught his eyes for a split second, and you just scrunched your nose at him.

“So how-”

You tuned out Seokjin, taking a minute to admire the decoration around you instead. Chaeyoung (because Jisoo wasn’t particularly all too fond of Christmas, but did put up with all of it because Chaeyoung very much was) always outdid herself every holiday season: red little fuzzy stockings hanging off shelves and cupboard knobs, cinnamon-scented candles lit up all throughout the place, miniature Santa and reindeer figurines sitting on every surface alongside bowls of chocolates and peppermints with fake snow underneath. There was even a small fake Christmas tree crammed into the corner of their living room with colourful baubles (some of which Jimin had gifted and had pictures of you all printed on them) and equally colourful fairy lights hanging on it. And of course, Michael Bublé was on heavy rotation, his voice carried throughout the home.

“Where’s Chae?” you asked Jisoo when she came up next to you, both of you standing in front of the Christmas tree.

“Oh, you know-”

“Ah, great, you guys finally made it as well,” Chaeyoung exhaled, coming out from the kitchen, and seeing Jungkook and you among the other guests. There was a slight edge accompanying her words, and you doubted for no second that her nerves were running high from having to host tonight and needing all of this to turn out perfect. (Even if she chose this fate upon herself.) Her updo was falling apart, strands sticking out in the wrong places. Still, she looked pretty. Especially with her reindeer apron tied around her waist. She had had it since middle school, and seeing it brought back all kinds of memories. You couldn’t help but grin, Jisoo and you exchanging looks. And when your gaze met Chaeoyung’s, she knew. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“Yeah, I know,” she mumbled, speaking to you too only and confusing the others in the process. Jisoo and you snickered.

“Anyway—” Chaeyoyung waved her hand around, “—I’ve got some unfortunate news. Dinner isn’t ready. I’ll need at least another thirty minutes. Hope you guys didn’t come too hungry.”

“Do you need help with anything?” Jungkook asked, already getting up from the couch. Yoongi raised his hand, silently extending the offer as well. Jennie nodded, clearly willing to get her hands dirty too.

“Yeah, anything we can do to help you?” Taehyung asked, making an effort to get up too, but Chaeyoung was quick to shake her head.

“No, I don’t need help,” she mumbled, clearing her throat. “I just wanted to inform you guys. You all would help if you guys just busied yourself and didn’t come into the kitchen.”

And before anyone could insist on their help, Chaeyoung disappeared back inside the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t we-?”

“If you wanna stay on her good side, don’t take a single step into the kitchen. Don’t even breathe in that direction, or think about helping her,” Jisoo explained, and Jungkook looked at you as if to ask if this was exaggerated at all.

“Yeah, Chae’s… very peculiar with that kind of stuff.”

“But there are so many of us. Is she really gonna do all of it on her own?” Jennie asked, but Hoseok waved her off.

“Trust me, she is and she will. Chae gets super stressed, but she also loves to host. If you don’t let her, she’ll be in a bad mood for ages. It’s better to just let her do her own thing.”

“And if it actually gets too much, she’ll come out and ask for help at one point. Trust me,” Jimin added.

“You think? I’m not so sure about that one,” Jisoo snorted and moved over to grab a handful of chocolates. Almost instinctively, she placed a hand on Jennie’s shoulder, and for a moment, you wondered if Jungkook and you ever looked this natural and comfortable with each other. If you looked as much as a couple as Jisoo and Jennie did. “When has she ever asked for help?”

“There’s no way she can do all of this on her own,” Taehyung said, frowning.

“You don’t know Chae.”

“Maybe. But it seems humanly impossible to pull off this entire thing without asking for at least some help.”

Jisoo raised her brow at Taehyung, pausing a moment. “Oh, do you wanna bet?” Her mouth pulled into a grin at the mere prospect of making some easy money. “Ten bucks?”

Hoseok and you exchanged glances over their heads. This was very much typical of Jisoo.

“Don’t bet with her, Tae. She’s a scammer,” Jimin said, pushing Jisoo’s hand away as she waited for him to shake it.

“I won’t,” Taehyung laughed, taking a sip from his beer. “You know I don’t do-”

The ear-shattering sound of a pan clashing with the kitchen tiles emerged from the kitchen, followed up with a few loud curses and an “It’s fine!”. You cringed when something else you couldn’t identify fell to the floor a second later, eliciting even more curses. Almost instinctively, you turned to Jisoo, nudging her. Because as much as she was right that it was a bad idea to go help Chaeyoung, it would actually be worse not to go in right now when everything seemed to go off the rails.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. My cue to jump in,” she grumbled, begrudgingly making her way to the kitchen, knowing already she would have to endure Chaeyoung’s snappy attitude. She squeezed Jennie’s hand in goodbye.

“See, she’s getting help,” Taehyung said to no one in particular and righteously took a sip from his beer. Jungkook applauded him sarcastically, and you were about to say something when-

“Oh, this is cute!” Seokjin gasped, coming up to you. You followed his gaze to the bauble he was admiring. It had an old picture of you and your friends on it, faces curving around the porcelain. “How old are you guys there?”

You pursed your lips. “That’s probably senior year? So like seventeen maybe? Eighteen?”

“What are you guys doing- oh my God, you guys look so young.” Namjoon hooked an arm around Seokijn’s shoulder, marvelling at your younger selves. “Look at that one!”

He pointed out one with just Jisoo, Chaeyoung and you on it. It was one of the first pictures you three had taken together. All three of you still stuck in middle school. You couldn’t decide whether to be embarrassed or nostalgic.

“Is that Ji? Her hair, oh my God!” Seokjin laughed, pointing out the blunt bob Jisoo used to rock.

“Don’t be mean!” And yet, Namjoon laughed too.

“You’re lucky Ji can’t hear you right now because she’d kill you,” you said. “But actually, you should see some of Seok’s old pictures. He looks so different-”

A hand snaked around your waist. You tensed. But you relaxed a second later when you realised who it was. You peeked over your shoulder just to check and smiled when you turned out to be right. He placed his chin on your shoulder.

“Hello,” Jungkook whispered, and you squirmed, his breath tickling your ear. He was so close to you, too close. You could practically feel his heart beating behind yours.

“Hey,” you returned, a bit breathless and pitchy. You cleared your throat.

“What are you guys doing?”

“Oh, uh, nothing really,” you mumbled, waving your hand around.

Jungkook frowned, but didn’t ask any further. “Okay, well, I wanted to get you something to drink. You think I can go into the kitchen without getting murdered?”

“Yeah, you’re fine. Ji’s there too,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to meet his gaze. He was already looking at you, eyes big and so full and a smile on his lips.

“Okay, then do you want anything in particular?”

You shook your head. “Uh, no, whatever is fine.”

“Whatever it is.”

But rather than just leave to get you said drink, Jungkook lingered, not moving away from you just yet. You raised a brow at him, making him smile. As if he could read your mind, he loosened his grip around your waist, but not before pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Getting you that drink,” he smiled, backing away.

You touched a hand to where he had kissed you, gripping, feeling hot all of a sudden. It was stupid, you were stupid.

“Jesus.”

And albeit, it was quiet and muttered under his breath, you heard it very clearly. You looked at Seokjin, eyes big as he stared back at you with a grin on his lips. There was a fondness in his eyes, a look you always saw on Jimin’s face. Namjoon wore it too.

“What?” you asked when the expression wouldn’t disappear.

“It’s just-”

He sighed and shook his head.

“What?” you repeated, but Seokjin wouldn’t continue.

“You guys are just cute,” Namjoon supplied.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, shaking your head.

“You guys are exactly like Jin and Mina used to be,” Yoongi said, coming up next to you, having witnessed the entire exchange from his spot on the couch.

“What?” you laughed, shaking your head over and over again. “I have no idea what-”

“Don’t deny it, Y/N,” Namjoon laughed and looked at you.

“It’s gross really,” Yoongi scoffed, taking a sip from his beer. “How smitten he is for you. How happy and—” He shuddered for the drama of it all but wore a smile on his lips. “—stupidly in love you two are.”

Wait, what?

“It’s cute,” Seokjin corrected, and you stared at him with stunned silence.

“Is it though?”

“Don’t be like that, Yoongs. When have you ever seen Kook this happy before?”

The question, though not directed at you at all, made you freeze. And when you looked at Yoongi and he made no effort to disagree, you froze.

“You make him really happy,” Namjoon said with a smile and tilted his head when you didn’t speak or react at all, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “You know that, right?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, crashing down on you and compressing your lungs. Because, no, you didn’t. You didn’t think about it ever, and why would you? It never seemed possible to you because it simply wasn’t possible you made Jungkook happy. You didn’t have that power over him.

Was this really how you looked like to others—two people who were in love and happy? It sounded ridiculous to you, impossible. So much so, you just had to shake your head and wave your hand around as if the words loomed in front of you and had to be physically dismissed. Your heart banged in your ribcage, loud and far too heavy.

“You guys are exaggerating!” you chuckled, voice wavering the slightest bit. “This has nothing to do with me- Finals are over and it’s Christmas, so obviously-”

A single look from them was all it took to silence you. They didn’t have to say a word for you to know what they were collectively thinking.

“Y/N, don’t be ridiculous,” Seokjin said.

“For god’s sake, just look at that boy,” Yoongi laughed, pointing behind you, and your gaze followed his hand. Right then Jungkook came back with two drinks, one for you and one for him.

He seemed surprised, stilling as he saw that you were all looking at him. But he recovered, mouth pulling into a big smile. Your eyes met his. You would have missed it if you hadn’t looked so close and paid attention to every little thing he did. But you saw it, the tiny smile he offered you, and only you. It was like a little secret. Just for you and him to know and share and see.

Did you really make him happy?

“Why are you guys staring at me like that?” Jungkook laughed, coming to a stop in front of you and handing you your drink. You took it passively, and purely from the warmth, you knew it was your favourite, green tea. “Are you guys talking shit about me?”

“Oh, yeah, you know just the usual shit talking we do about you,” Namjoon snorted.

“Mhm, the usual stuff. How you always-”

Seokjin’s voice faded away when Jungkook moved closer to you, his arm already lifting to sneak around your middle. But you couldn’t do this. Not now.

“Sorry, I gotta pee,” you mumbled, wringing out of Jungkook’s grasp, his fingers just barely brushing your skin. You didn’t know who you interrupted, but you offered them all an apologetic look but you never quite looked at Jungkook. Your exit seemed natural enough though, you thought. No one made an effort to stop you.

Some of your drink spilt over when you put it down on the coffee table too quickly, and you even almost bumped into Hoseok, but rather than apologise properly and clean up your mess, you hurried into the bathroom.

The moment the lock clicked shut behind you, you let yourself crumble, knees giving in. If only just a little.

Oh God.

It wasn’t very environmentally friendly, not very Save the Turtles! kind of behaviour of you at all as you just let the water run and run into the sink and down the drain. You didn’t even wash your hands or face, just needing something to fill the silence as you sat on the edge of the bathtub and let yourself calm down.

You felt ridiculous. You truly did. Insane and crazy even. The behaviour you were exhibiting was probably therapist worthy. The panic. For what? And why? It was behaviour you never imagined yourself exhibiting. No less because of Jeon Jungkook. But here you were, playing his pretend girlfriend for money so he could win a bet. And you got all of your friends involved even! You should have really thought this through-

“Cabbage?”

And somehow, both dread and warmth crept up with his voice. You closed your eyes, thinking for a second to shut off the tap. It seemed just a little too exhausting to do that.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good?”

“Yeah.”

It was quiet for a few seconds.

“Can I come in?”

“I’m peeing, Jeon.”

A lie. He knew. You knew.

“Fine, come in.”

When you wouldn’t move, Jungkook gave the door handle a try, surprised to see you hadn’t locked it. You had forgotten, and so he did it for you instead. The moment he saw you sitting on the edge of the bathtub with the tap carelessly running, he stopped, features folding into something nice, pleasant, empathetic.

“Stop,” you groaned, rolling your eyes and turning away from him, shutting off the tap as if that minimised how sad you had to look right now.

Jungkook chuckled, burying his hands into his pants, carefully walking towards you. He sat down next to you, knee pressed against yours. Neither of you pulled away. There was a part of you that should tell him to give you space, but you couldn’t. If anything, you turned a little to him.

“How are you always running off into the bathroom when you feel bad? It’s so obvious,” he mumbled, pinching your nose.

“Ow, stop!” you hissed, swatting his hand aside.

He gave you a look, shaking his head, and you pouted like a child would. It made him chuckle, and you tensed when Jungkook put his head on yours, too tall to lean against your shoulder comfortably, his eyes falling shut.

“What did they say?” Jungkook asked, breaking the silence after a while.

“What?”

“Joon and the others. What did they say to make you run off like that?”

You pressed your lips together, disliking that you were so easy to read.

“Who sent you?” you snorted, wanting to figure out which of your friends just earned themselves a plus point.

“No one.”

“What?” you blinked, and looked at him, but he kept his eyes closed. “So you-”

“No one sent me. I just… wanted to make sure you were fine myself.”

And hearing that was somehow utterly awful. Because it meant Jungkook cared. At least to some degree, at least enough to want to check on you. It meant that he was able to read you so easily, that he really knew you.

“Now, what did they say? You can tell me. I’ll talk to them for you. Or I won’t if you don’t want me-”

You shook your head, sighing. “Nothing. They said nothing.”

It was true. Because none of what Namjoon, Seokjin, and Yoongi said was worth running off. It wasn’t insulting, or hurtful.

“Are you sure? Seriously, you can just tell me. I’d talk to-”

“I’m serious,” you interrupted, not even wanting to hear how far Jungkook would go for you. “They said nothing. I just had to pee.” You shrugged. “And I just needed a moment to breathe. It’s nothing. I promise.”

Jungkook sat up, glancing at you with his mouth pursed and eyes narrowed. “So just a moment to breathe?”

Your hand almost came up to cup his cheek, the urge to brush over the little scar on his cheekbone tempting you. It was difficult to resist when he was looking at you like that. There was this need, to plant your lips against his. Kiss him and assure him. But you didn’t let yourself. You turned your head to the other side, curling your hand around the cool porcelain of the bathtub until the skin stretched thin over your knuckles and almost hurt. Just anything but Jungkook and his stupidly pretty face.

“Just a moment to breathe,” you mumbled.

Jungkook hummed, straightening up. He let his head hang for a few seconds before lifting it up again and turning to you.

“Is it fine if I stay with you then?”

It was a delicate question, an honest question, a devastating heartbreaking question. Because of course, he could. Of course! He could do anything, as long as he remained by your side. And that realisation, albeit not entirely new to you (you were aware of it to some degree all along), was mortifying.

You closed your eyes, a knot forming in your throat. There was nothing for you to say, a silence stretching between you. A silence Jungkook took as a “yes”, and when his hand gripped yours, it was sealed for you. You didn’t pull away, put your head on his shoulder. What would be the use of resisting? What good would it do? What would it change? Nothing.

So you enjoyed it instead, the moment between him and you. For as long as you could. For now.

“We should probably get back out,” you mumbled when you heard the laughter get louder in the living room.

“Probably.”

And yet, neither of you moved. A few more moments passed. It was the next bound of laughter that ripped you out.

“We should-”

“I think it’s time-”

You both stopped, nodding, knowing. Jungkook was first to get up, groaning like an old man before turning to you and offering you his hand. With one loud sigh, you took it, allowing him to pull you up. You shared a look and a smile.

It felt like you were walking into another world when you stepped outside, still holding hands. Before it was just Jungkook and you. Now it was everyone else too. And almost as if you had said that exact thought out loud, everyone looked at you as you walked back in. You stopped, the same way Jungkook had when he had returned and found you all staring at him. You frowned, the grin spreading on Jimin’s and Jisoo’s (When had she made it back?) faces worrying you. Jungkook seemed as clueless as you.

“What?”

No one said anything for a second.

“Can I?” Jisoo asked, pleading with everyone else, and you narrowed your eyes. She was giddy, and her being giddy was never a good sign, especially for you. Most times it meant you’d be miserable.

“Do the honours,” Jimin said, gesturing for her to ahead.

Jisoo leaned back, grinning from ear to ear. She seemed to stretch the moment thin, take her sweet time to reveal to you what exactly entertained her so much. Jennie shook her head next to her, but she wore a smile on her lips, amused.

You kept close to Jungkook, almost instinctively. As if he could protect you. His hand brushed the small of your back, soothing. Taehyung’s irritating snicker grabbed your attention for a second, but before you could frown at him for it, Jisoo spoke,

“Look up.”

Fuck. You should have figured.

“Ah,” Jungkook laughed upon seeing the mistletoe above your heads.

“You guys are funny,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “And very cute for thinking that we are gonna do-”

“You have to!” Jimin interjected, leaning forward and pointing at the two of you. “It’s the law. The rules of the game.”

You frowned, and the lines deepened even more when you saw everyone from Namjoon, Seokjin and Jennie to Taehyung, Hoseok, Yoongi and Jisoo nodding along. Of course, they found pleasure in your misery.

“It’s bad luck if you don’t,” Hoseok reminded you of the stupid rules, and you could have thrown something at him. How was no one on your side?

“That’s… made up.”

“Well, if you wanna risk the bad luck, be my guest,” Hoseok chuckled, shrugging, and you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, please, no one believes that!”

But you were met with no ounce of support from anyone. You turned to Jungkook, expecting that he was equally as ticked off as you. But he seemed perfectly fine, his features not even slightly twisted into anything resembling irritation. If anything, he was smiling a little when you met his eyes.

“I don’t know, I’m never one to tempt fate,” he said, and you couldn’t quite decide how to react. Jungkook reached for your hand again, playing with your fingers. “Why risk the bad luck? Also, it’s not like we have never kissed in front of them.” He grinned. “Remember how you jumped me and-”

“Oh my God, I didn’t jump you!” Your voice leapt up a few pitches too high and remained there when your friends began to laugh.

“Now that’s a lie. You practically threw yourself at-”

“Jeon!”

Jungkook cackled, and you could have strangled him right then and there. Your friends laughed too, and you would have snapped at them if your cheeks didn’t warm to an uncomfortable degree. To the point the blood boiled in your ears, so much so you didn’t even hear Namjoon’s holler about how it was just a kiss!

It wasn’t completely lost on you that it was stupid to be embarrassed, considering how boldly you had claimed Jungkook as yours in front of a room of strangers just a few weeks ago. Especially considering that all of your friends had a slight alcohol level going on anyway already and were most definitely moving on the second the kiss happened. But it was different. At the Halloween party, you were positively buzzed, your vision blurry and fuzzy. But more importantly, you were jealous to the point of turning green. It seemed so much more intimate to kiss Jungkook in front of everyone now. And so very vulnerable because you wanted to so much. Kiss him. You always did these days, yearned to. That desire scared you, was mortifying in more ways than you could describe, particularly in this moment because what if they could all sense it? What if Jungkook realised it all of a sudden? That you really wanted this? That your entire heart ached for him?

And as if you had the fear written all over your face, Jungkook reached for you, tugging on your elbow and turning you back to him. He gave you a smile, his head tilted to the side. A few strands slipped out of his perfectly messy hair, and a soft shadow covered half his face. Right then, he seemed all so delicate to you, so good, so precious. It was instant, your heartbeat dwindled into something calmer and wilder at the same time. Somehow, it seemed almost easy and much more difficult to kiss him and pretend it didn’t dig daggers into your heart. None of it made sense, the effect he had on you, but you supposed a lot of things hadn’t made sense in your life since Jungkook’s first appearance.

“It’s just a kiss, cabbage,” he mumbled, shrugging.

It was. It was just a kiss, to your friends, to him. It was nothing, a small price you had to pay to entertain your friends. It was fun and simple. It was just unfortunate that it was so much more to you.

You held your breath when Jungkook placed a hand on your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, gentle and soothing. He was doing everything right, and yet, you could have thrown up right then and there. Jimin gasped and squeaked as Jungkook inched closer to you, Jisoo grasping onto his arm because oh my God, they were going to kiss! All while you were desperately, almost frantically, fisting Jungkook’s shirt, as if you would float away otherwise and it was the only thing keeping you on the ground.

And Jungkook kissed you all too delicately.

To the point, you could have believed him. That you meant something to him, that he might just be in love with you. It was horrible, to be kissed like that. You weren’t sure if this was how it felt like, to be in love and to be loved. You hoped it wasn’t.

You pulled him closer to you, deepened the kiss, allowed him in. For just a while, you told yourself. Just until you found the strength in you to resist him, until you deemed your own well-being more important than these fleeting highs with Jungkook.

“Alright, dinner’s- oh.”

Chaeyoung stopped right before she could bump into you, and you quickly pulled away. But Jungkook kept holding you, not letting go of you. Chaeyoung placed her hands on her hips and shot Jimin and Jisoo a long look.

“Ah, who of you idiots did this?”

“Why do you assume it was-”

“So it was you,” Chaeyoung said, interrupting Jimin and shaking her head. “Take it off. Dinner’s ready.”

Jisoo slapped his shoulder, laughing, clearly enjoying seeing him getting reprimanded by Chaeyoung. Jimin rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how Chaeyoung was no fun but he followed her orders, getting up and reaching for the bundle above your heads. You backed away-actually you jumped. It made Jimin pause and narrow his eyes, his mouth lifting into a smile when he saw the opportunity.

“Oh, what if I hold it over you-”

“No, don’t even!” you hissed, pushing Jimin away from you and seeking refuge behind Chaeyoung.

“Oh, it’s just one more kiss, Y/N!” Jimin taunted, following you. You shrieked, moving further from him, irritated by the constant laughter spilling from his throat. He was enjoying this too much. Too much!

“Fuck off!”

“Don’t be like-”

“I’m serious, stop!”

“It’s fun-”

“Okay, no, enough,” Jungkook said, stepping in and swiftly taking the mistletoe from Jimin. He slapped him with it lightly, eliciting a gasp from Jimin. “No more chasing my girlfriend with mistletoe, okay? Or you can do your physics assignments on your own.”

Rubbing his cheek, almost convinced he was allergic to mistletoe now, Jimin gasped as if Jungkook had just declared an end to their friendship. “Kook! How could you say that?”

“Stop chasing my girlfriend then.”

“Oh my God, fine, I won’t,” Jimin groaned, pouting. “You’re so lame.”

When he reached for the mistletoe, Jungkook hesitated, looking over to you and even though you preferred him not to hold it in his hands again, you knew Jimin would get even more offended if Jungkook withheld the bundle from him. So you gave him a nod.

“Okay, alright, dinner’s getting cold,” Chaeyoung said, clapping her hands together when Jimin was back in possession of his mistletoe. “So how about we take this party into the kitchen, yeah?”

Like you had said he would, Jungkook got an earful from Chaeyoung when she noticed the expensive bottle of wine suddenly appear on the dinner table because how dare you bring something when I clearly said not to? And on top of that such an expensive bottle too. Do you shit money? Somebody needs to teach you how to manage your finances. Rather than come to his help, you left Jungkook to fend for himself which earned you puppy eyes from him, but hadn’t you told him better? Surprisingly however he managed to convince her to open the bottle anyway. You were sure she’d get him to return it, or at least take it home again. Jungkook could be very compelling. But you knew that already.

“If the teaching thing doesn’t work out—” Namjoon had his mouth stuffed as he spoke, and you caught Yoongi cringing next to him. “—I think you should become a cook, Chae.”

She smiled sheepishly, waving him off. “Oh, please. My mom’s cooking is so much better.”

“I don’t know if I believe you,” he laughed. “This is seriously so good.”

Hoseok shoved a big bite into his mouth, a drop of sauce splashing onto the table. Chaeyoung smiled and wiped it off for him. He thanked her.

“It’s the best food on Earth. I’d die for it,” Jimin sighed, a little too loud and dramatic, his mouth full with food, giving you all a glimpse into what his stomach must look like. His cheeks were tinted a slight pink, the red wine slowly flushing him through. “Like that one Gordon Ramsey meme? Where you know—” He sat up, changing his voice in a failed attempt to mimic the British celebrity chef. “—he’s like ‘Finally some good fucking food.’ or whatever. That’s how I always feel when I eat Chae.”

For a second, there was silence. Jungkook and you looked at each other with big eyes, a hint of a smile on your lips because it was obvious that Jimin hadn’t realised what he had said, blabbering on and on without a second thought.

“Maybe you should calm it on the alcohol,” Seokjin mumbled, pushing Jimin’s glass away from him. But it had the opposite effect, making him reach for it instead and down the entire contents of his glass in one quick go.

“Never!”

“You mean… her food. When you eat her food, you could cry, right?” Taehyung clarified, and Jimin looked at him with big eyes.

“Oh, yes of course! What else would I mean?” he laughed, loud and boisterous. “Chae’s all yours, Seok. Don’t worry. I’m not your competition.”

Chaeyoung almost choked on the wine, and Hoseok turned a few shades redder.

“Someone get this idiot some water,” Yoongi snorted, and Namjoon already got up.

You turned your gaze to Jisoo when she leaned into you, taking the chaos as a chance to just talk to you, her hand grabbing yours.

“How’s the scarf going by the way? Are your loops now clean?” she whispered, careful to keep her voice low. You glanced towards Jungkook, but he was busy trying to convince Jimin to drink a few sips from the water at least. And though he hadn’t heard a word, you glared at Jisoo, shaking your head.

“Not with him around,” you hissed, and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, look at him. He’s not paying us attention. I wanna know. I’m invested now, especially because you always called me a grandma for knitting. How’s it going?” she asked, and you knew it was best to just quickly answer her because she wasn’t dropping this.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it now. It’s almost done-”

“What are you guys whispering about?” Jennie asked, leaning in, eyes wandering between Jisoo and you.

“Y/N’s knitting a scarf for her boyfriend for Christmas.”

“Ji!”

Your features couldn’t decide whether or not to contort in embarrassment or fear Jungkook had overheard this time. It’d ruin your surprise. You were in luck though because he wasn’t paying your conversation any mind.

“Oh, that’s cute!” Jennie squealed. “I only thought Ji knits. I didn’t know you knit too, Y/N.”

“I-”

“She doesn’t. She just sews a little,” Jisoo said, beating you to it. She leaned towards Jennie as if she was telling her a secret and didn’t want you to hear, but she deliberately kept eye contact with you and didn’t even lower her voice, her lips curling up. “She learned how to knit for her stupid little boyfriend. She asked me so many questions and bought so much yarn too. It was so annoying-”

You kicked Jisoo in the shin, shutting her up. She sharply sucked in her breath, hands flying to her leg, mouth agape in a silent screech.

“You’re talking too much,” you hissed, not remorseful at all even as she rubbed her shin. Jennie laughed.

“That’s really cute of you though, Y/N,” she said, smiling at you. “I like the idea. He’s gonna love it.”

“It’s just a scarf,” Jisoo mumbled, rolling her eyes, words dipping into an astonishing amount of immaturity. “It’s not that cute. I could knit you a better scarf-”

“Stop bragging. It’s different. You’ve always knit. Y/N made an effort to learn how to for Kook.”

“I’d learn how to do something new for you.”

“So do.”

“What? Like I won’t?”

You took that as your cue to exit the conversation, glancing over to Jungkook instead. He hadn’t noticed your conversation at all. In fact, he was stuffing his mouth full. Some extra sauce decorated the corner of his mouth in his haste. Without missing a beat, you wiped it off with your thumb before cleaning it on his napkin. He turned to you, eyes as big as a reindeer caught in headlights. It hit you only then as he stared at you and you stared at him, what you had done. How intimate the nature of the gesture had been. You might as well have ripped out your heart and told him to keep it. It would have been the same.

“Did… you just-”

“Oh, the wine is actually so good!” Jisoo sighed, putting down her glass, and right now you were very glad she sat next to you. “I think that’s the best wine I’ve ever had.”

Jungkook’s eyes darted between her and you. He was thinking, contemplating if he’d engage with Jisoo in a conversation, or tease you until you were just about ready to be swallowed by a hole. Maybe it was the way you wouldn’t even look in his direction and kept your gaze trained on Jisoo, or maybe because he was planning on bringing it up another time, but in the end, he decided to spare you.

“I’m happy to hear you like it,” he grinned before jabbing you in the side. You flinched, grabbing his hand before he could do it again. “See, and you said they wouldn’t taste the difference.”

“She doesn’t,” you grumbled, brows creased together.

“She’s just saying that because she knows how expensive it is,” Taehyung said, and for once you agreed. Jisoo rolled her eyes at him, mumbling something about not wanting to argue with an idiot and picking a piece of lint off of Jennie’s shoulder instead.

Jungkook shrugged. “Whatever. She likes it, so worth every penny.”

You were about to let go of his hand, feeling any kind of contact was a step too much, a step into a very wrong and dangerous direction. But Junkook interlaced his fingers with yours, holding it firm, thumb brushing over the back of your hand. For a second, you contemplated pulling away because this was too much, too close. You didn’t, not finding the strength in you to do it.

“Actually, I haven’t learned half of my mom’s cooking. She always makes this amazing pork belly stew for every Christmas. If you love this, you’ll love that,” Chaeyoung said, pulling you into their conversation that seemed to have circled back to her cooking.

“Are you gonna go back home for Christmas? Because I’ll go with you if so. That stew sounds amazing,” Yoongi said.

“Oh my God, if you are, please take me with you too because this is so good,” Jennie sighed dreamily, making Chaeyoung laugh.

“Excuse me, what about our Christmas plans?” Jisoo gasped with faux upset, and immediately Hoseok, Chaeyoung, Jimin and you exchanged glances.

Moving fast, Hoseok mouthed and you nodded. You had no idea. At the same time, it seemed to work for them.

“Oh, can’t we just drop by for dinner really quickly for some food?” Jennie tried, pursing her lips into a pout, but Jisoo just clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Good food is all it takes, huh?”

Jennie laughed.

“Is everyone going home for Christmas?” Namjoon asked, wiping his mouth before grabbing his glass of wine, holding it up to his lips, speaking into it. “I know Kook is for sure.”

Jungkook nodded. “Got me there.”

And even without looking at him, you knew he was smiling and more than excited to go back home. He squeezed your hand, and you could tell he did so unconsciously. You squeezed back, happy for him that he was happy.

“Oh, right, I’ve been meaning to ask!” Jimin gasped, turning rather dramatically towards you. You blinked, unsure of what was about to spill from his lips.

“Is it true that you’re going back home with Kook, Y/N?”

What?

Everyone turned to you, Chaeyoung raising her brow at you because were you? You stared back at her, mouth opened and closing because no, right? You weren’t, or were you? Your eyes lifted to Jungkook, and he had that same look on his face. Neither of you knew what to say or do. This wasn’t something you had discussed. And why would you have? It’d be ridiculous to assume that you’d be going back home with Jungkook to meet his parents for Christmas.

“Uh-?”

“I’m just asking because Kook’s parents have been asking me if I knew if he’s actually gonna bring you,” Jimin continued, shrugging. And maybe you would have focused on how much you wanted to strangle him right now and needed him to shut up if your mind wasn’t reeling from the fact that Jungkook seemed to have not only told his parents about your existence but also that you would be spending Christmas with them.

What?

“Okay, yeah, no, wait,” Jungkook interjected, a clear panic in his voice, turning fully to you. “I can explain.”

You blankly stared at him, unable to even make a single sound. He dug a hand through his hair, looking even more panicked the longer you said nothing.

“So, uh, my brother saw my posts and stories online and might have told my parents… that I’m dating you. And so they’ve been really curious and asking about you a lot, and it was a little annoying, so I just told them that I might bring you around for Christmas to shut them up. But—” He held out his hand as if to get ahead of you saying anything. “—I didn’t promise them anything. I just said it to get them off my back, you know?”

You continued staring at him, unsure of how to react or what to say because well, you hadn’t thought that either of your parents were ever going to get involved in any shape or form. You hadn’t even played with the idea of telling your parents. And why would you? All of this was fake! A ruse, so Jungkook could win his stupid bet!

“It wasn’t planned, or anything, okay? I wasn’t going to tell them about you-”

“You weren’t?” Jimin blurted out, brows pinching together. He seemed to have lost all ability to read the room, just a glass or two of wine enough to dull his brain. “Ow-!”

He glared at Taehyung, rubbing his arm. It still wasn’t enough to shut him up however.

“What was that for? I’m just saying I’m a little surprised that Jungkook, the definition of a mama’s and papa’s boy, was planning on keeping his girlfriend a secret when he hasn’t shut up about Y/N for months-”

“No, wait it’s not like that,” Jungkook quickly scrambled, gesturing wildly. “It’s just that my parents, you know, can get a little much. And, I don’t know-”

His sentence didn’t find an end, and Jimin seemed to just take that as a sign to go on,

“Didn’t Narae meet-”

“Okay, how about you finish your food, huh?” Taehyung interrupted, taking Jimin’s fork and picking up a big piece of meat before shoving it into his mouth. Namjoon and Seokjin exchanged glances, cringing. Yoongi lowered his head, and Jennie slid down on her seat. Chaeyoung looked at you with big empathetic eyes and Jisoo even gave your hand a squeeze.

If there was anything genuine between you, this would have been devastating. Luckily, there wasn’t. So it couldn’t hurt. And yet, your heart felt like it was bleeding in your chest, a dagger shoved in, a dagger with Jungkook’s name. He was staring holes into you, but you couldn’t look at him, settling on the edge of the table instead. You weren’t hurt. You weren’t hurt that Narae with her perfect smile and manicured nails and beautiful hair and glossy lips got to meet his parents and you didn’t. It didn’t bother you at all! That was what you told yourself at least. Because you couldn’t possibly be hurt. Not when your relationship was transactional and just an act. And yet, to your misery, you were hurt, deeply. You hated it, how you weren’t all that unbothered as you wanted and more importantly, should be.

You were pulled out of your thoughts though when you saw the glare Hoseok was looking at Jungkook with. It dawned on you how awful all of it had to sound to your friends then. Narae, who never even was Jungkook’s official girlfriend, got to meet his parents, but you, who was officially (at least to them) his girlfriend, he not only didn’t want to introduce to them but also planned on keeping a secret?

“Oh my God, you guys!” you laughed, loud and light, like it was all so very dumb and stupid. With a big swoop, you grabbed Jungkook’s hand on the table, hoping no one saw the shake in your fingers. Everyone looked at you.

“You’re misunderstanding. We had agreed from the beginning that we should take it a little slower, and not tell everyone immediately. I knew he wasn’t going to tell his parents. I told him not to.” You put on your most convincing smile, swallowing the knot in your throat, hoping desperately it was enough. Everyone was looking at you, and you looked right back at them, at everyone except for Jungkook. Your vision almost blurred, hazy at the edges, feeling your composure threaten to slip.

“It’s nothing.”

There was a slight shake in your voice, the tiniest of a waver. You couldn’t tell if your friends noticed, their faces unreadable to you. A moment of silence stretched across the room, the food long forgotten about. In the end, it was slightly tipsy Jimin, the one who started it all, to break the awkwardness.

“Okay, well, do I text them… yes or-?”

You wondered if Jimin was this stupid, or trying to put you through hell on purpose. His question made Taehyung next to him sigh and shake his head, lips pressed together as he stared daggers into the older one.

“What?” Jimin whispered, offended. Maybe you should have taken the wine from him sooner.

You looked at Jungkook finally. He didn’t seem to have an answer at all, his eyes big and wide like a child’s. There was something in them that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It almost seemed like he wanted you to agree, say yes, of course, you’d meet his parents. You had to be imagining it. As quickly as it had come, you squashed the thought.

It was up to you. The decision was in your hands. Everyone was waiting for your answer. Jungkook would have to go with whatever you were saying, whether or not he liked it.

A lot of it was probably spite, spite that Narae met them already and you hadn’t. And how would it look if you weren’t there when Jungkook inevitably made a post about being back home with his family and you weren’t there in the pictures? What would Narae think? You could already see a backhanded Instagram story in front of your eyes, how there was trouble in paradise. It was something you wouldn’t put past her at all, seeing as she had done so before, posting just an hour after Jungkook celebrated your one month anniversary about how cringe some couples could be. Anyone doubting your relationship might just lead to Taehyung doubting your relationship and then to Jungkook losing his bet and all of this would have been for nothing. That couldn’t happen, right? You had to do something against it!

“They probably won’t stop bothering you until you tell them yes, right?”

You tried your hardest to sound casual, nonchalant, chill as some might say. This was no big deal, you told yourself.

It wasn’t what Jungkook had expected. He thought you’d give some roundabout answer that in the end summarised that you needed to keep things slow and easy. But you agreed. You were going to meet his parents. He searched for something in your features, anything to tell him how you genuinely felt about it. He was trying to read you, but it was like he had the wrong dictionary.

“If that’s alright with you-” Maybe it was to hit the nail on the head, finish it off, you couldn’t say. But the urge was strong right then, just once to say it. “—babe?”

You turned to him and looked at him almost confidently. It was both your face and the pet name, but Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh. Of course, now you were going to call him babe. A grin spread across his lips.

“Okay, yeah.” He held your hand firmer and tighter. “I’d be more than happy for you to meet my parents. They’d be thrilled.”

He was a great liar. It sounded oh so very genuine.

You squeezed his hand and turned to Jimin. “I guess you can text them I’m going.”

“I think that was it,” Jungkook said, handing you the last few dirty plates.

“Alright,” you hummed, moving around some of the dishes to make some more space in the dishwasher.

“Oh,” Chaeyoung exclaimed in surprise upon seeing Jungkook standing there with you, “you can head out first. I’ll help Y/N.”

She wore a smile on her lips, but you knew better.

“It’s fine. I’ll just help-”

“No, really, get out,” Chaeyoung interrupted, slipping just the slightest bit and you gave Jungkook a look, almost reaching out for his hand and giving it a squeeze. She was curt, too curt. It surprised him, clearly. “I’m the host. I’ll clean up. Join the others in the living room.”

You offered him a nod, and with that Jungkook slipped out, receiving a more genuine smile and a quiet thank you from Chaeyoung on the way out because she knew he was more than confused by her just now. Before he even had the chance to turn to ask whether or not he should close the door, she did herself. You knew to prepare yourself, putting the stack of dishes aside. She folded her arms in front of her stomach.

This was an interrogation.

In another world (read: in a detective TV show), there’d be a metal table between you and you’d be handcuffed to it. A clock would decorate the blank walls, ticking away in the background, and the air would be chilly and humid, stifling almost. Chaeyoung would dramatically slide pictures across to you, and they would be incriminating ones, blurry but clearly depicting you in the middle of whatever crime you were accused of. She would point at them and tell you how you had one chance to tell her the truth.

“How are you?”

Just the question almost made you laugh. It was heartwarming. You knew exactly what she was trying to get out of you—if it hurt you at all that Narae had met Jungkook’s parents and he had seemingly wanted to keep you a secret. You dried your hands on the kitchen towel.

“I’m fine, thanks. How are you-”

“Are you lying?”

She took this very seriously, her face not even holding a hint of a smile. Again, in another world she’d stare you down, gaze cold and unwavering, and ask if you wanted to try again.

“Do I look like I am lying?”

You were lying about all of it, about most things concerning Jungkook and you these days. But you couldn’t say that. You couldn’t admit that the entire conversation during dinner hurt you to the degree it did, to a degree you would rather not admit, that it hurt at all to begin with. Because being hurt implied you had some sort of right to be, implied Jungkook owed you… something. And that was just not true.

Chaeyoung paused, sizing you up. It was hard to figure out what conclusion she came to, her eyes narrowed and sharp. She opened her mouth, but right then, someone announced themselves with a knock on the door. Without waiting, they poked their head in, and it could realistically only be one person.

“What did she say?” Jisoo asked.

Were you air today?

“Says she’s fine,” Chaeyoung said, wrinkling her nose.

“You don’t believe her?” Jisoo slipped inside and slowly closed the door, making sure beforehand though that no one was in earshot. Chaeyoung scrutinised you for another moment before coming to her conclusion with a long sigh.

“No, I do.” She paused before looking at you. “You know I’d- we’d rip him into pieces for you, right?”

You had no doubt for a second they would. Actually, all of your friends would, but Chaeyoung and Jisoo would be the first ones to throw a punch.

“I do, and I love you guys for it,” you say, smiling genuinely because God, you did love your friends so much. “But you don’t have to because I’m fine. And like I said, we had talked about it. You know how I am. Parents aren’t my thing.”

“Well, for that you just agreed to go meet them,” Jisoo mumbled, scrunching her nose, and you swallowed. Maybe it was hearing it from someone else, or maybe it was because you were no longer sitting around the dinner table with everyone expectedly staring at you and awaiting for an explanation, but it finally hit you. What exactly you had agreed to. Once your mind wasn’t clouded with the thought of Narae, you realised that oh my God, you were meeting Jungkook’s parents.

It was funny how quickly things could change. How just a few minutes ago, you didn’t worry about it at all, only thinking of Narae and her stupid perfect grin and the fact she had met them, and now you were worried because what would they say about you? Would they like you? What if they were like Jaehwa’s parents and-

“Now, don’t make that face,” Chaeyoung interrupted, putting a hand on your shoulder, noticing your spiral. “They’re gonna like you.”

“Yeah, you don’t have anything to worry about at all, Y/N,” Jisoo reassured. “If anything, they should be on their best behaviour. Because if not…”

And like the amazing friend she was, Jisoo started punching the air, showing you her swift moves that she would put on Jungkook’s parents.

“Can’t you see? They say one wrong thing, and it’d be over for them. Ji would do these weird punches and knock them right out,” Chaeyoung said. “It’s gonna be fine. Has to.”

“Also, with the way Jungkook acts with you, let’s be honest he’s head over heels for you,” Jisoo argued, putting an arm around you. “I can see him standing up for you.”

“Yeah, I hate to give a man any credit, but he would.”

“And again, if he doesn’t…” Jisoo didn’t finish her sentence, instead showing you her oh so brilliant and not wobbly but actually super fatal kick.

They both turned to you, and you slowly nodded. Maybe they were right. You didn’t necessarily think Jungkook would stand up for you, not because you didn’t believe he would but because you didn’t even let yourself go there. If you did, if you assumed he would do something like that for you, you’d be having expectations for him and you had no right to. But you knew that Chaeyoung and Jisoo would be there for you, and it was a comforting thought. That was enough. Your friends were enough. And maybe, you just liked to believe them too—that it would all somehow turn out just fine.

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumbled.

“It’s gonna be fine!” Chaeyoung repeated, squeezing your shoulder.

Before you could dwell on it any further, a knock on the kitchen door interrupted you.

“Yeah?” Jisoo said, and a moment later, Hoseok stuck his head in, offering an apologetic smile because he obviously knew what was going on in here.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Jimin asked for you, Chae,” he said, sounding unsure. He clearly hadn’t gotten a reason as to why he was supposed to call for Chaeyoung. She frowned and seemed less than willing to go, but you saw this as a great opportunity to put an end to this conversation and move on. Ignoring the fact you were going to meet Jungkook’s parents wasn’t going to solve the issue, but right now your brain felt mushy and drained. Too much of today’s focus had been on you, you couldn’t do it any longer.

“Let’s just all go,” you said. “We’ve been here for too long anyway.”

Jisoo agreed, mumbling something about how she couldn’t leave Jennie alone with all of the guys outside any longer, not in good conscience at least. She helped you put the last few plates into the dishwasher, and hooked her arm with yours as you made your way back into the living room, her head resting on your shoulder.

“Did he say what he wanted?” Chaeyoung asked Hoseok, the two walking behind you.

“Probably something stupid.”

And indeed it was.

Because the moment Jisoo and you had made it past the doorstep, Jimin jumped up and pointed at Chaeyoung and Hoseok. The two froze, all eyes on them, and when you turned to look, you found them in the same fate as Jungkook and you had been in earlier.

“Oh, Jimin,” you chuckled, shaking your head. He beamed with pride, chest out and a grin bigger than his entire face.

“We aren’t-” Chaeyoung couldn’t even finish her sentence, sputtering for words. “No! This is… stupid!”

“You have to. Otherwise, it’s bad luck,” Jungkook grinned. “That’s what you said, right, Seok?”

Hoseok looked positively ready to strangle him, but you couldn’t have been prouder of him right now. Even though Jimin was the one to orchestrate this, it felt like sweet revenge to get back at Hoseok. And really, you were helping him and Chaeyoung. Maybe today was the day finally something would happen.

“Seok and I aren’t- we aren’t-”

“It’s just a kiss!” Seokjin said, and you nodded. Because as much as you felt for them, having been in their position, you knew Chaeyoung wouldn’t have come to your rescue. She might have disapproved, but she would have definitely enjoyed the show and let it go on until you kissed.

“Just do a quick peck,” Taehyung suggested, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek to demonstrate. The older one wiped his cheek and shook his head, but there was clear amusement tugging on the corners of his mouth too. You laughed at the absurdity of it all, especially when you caught the embarrassed looks on Chaeyoung’s and Hoseok’s faces.

“Also if you hadn’t walked in together like I had predicted you obviously would, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” Jimin said, and Hoseok let out a noise that could only be described as a weak and mangled attempt at faux upset. “You guys are so clearly in love with each other anyway, just kiss!”

“Oh my God,” Chaeyoung let out a scoff, but it sounded pitchy and panicked, “seriously? H-how many times do we have to tell you guys that we are just really good friends? Just like Jimin and Y/N!”

“Don’t be ridiculous here, Chae,” you laughed. “Jimin and I are just friends, but you two? Oh, please.”

“There was an attempt, huh?”

Chaeyoung glared at Jisoo, her cheeks gaining a deeper shade of red with every passing second. In a last ditch attempt, she turned to Hoseok, hoping for some backup from him.

“Tell them-”

This time when her sentence got lodged in her throat, it was for a very different reason. Because Hoseok was looking at her like he was ready to risk it all in front of everybody. Like he was ready to just say it, do something. And Chaeyoung knew, freezing to a statue.

Jisoo and you looked at each other, gasping. Her nails dug into your arm and you held onto her just as strongly. Your breath hitched in your throat as Hoseok placed a hand on Chaeyoung’s cheek, pausing and hesitating for a moment, as if he waited for her to reject him before ultimately kissing her. And instantly, she pulled him closer.

It was like a scene out of every 2000s romantic comedy, the finale of the third act, what you had all been waiting up to. It was a scene to swoon and die for.

A sense of joy you had rarely felt overtook you, a rush. You began shaking Jisoo, mouth split into a grin. As much as you had wanted and actually still wanted to strangle Jimin tonight for bringing that stupid mistletoe, you were just about ready to kiss him (platonically and only figuratively of course).

“See!” Jimin laughed, pointing at Hoseok and Chaeyoung, both of them flushed red to the tips of their ears. But they were smiling too. This had been good.

“I can’t believe that this is how you guys get together,” Jisoo laughed, Chaeyoung and Hoseok looking at each other, his arm wrapped around her middle. They laughed, shrugging.

Jimin proudly pointed at himself, beaming brighter than a Christmas tree. “All my doing.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi laughed, trying and failing to kick him in the knee. And though his attempt wasn’t successful, it earned him a thank you! from Chaeyoung. Jimin looked over to Namjoon for some kind of help, but he simply shrugged. He scoffed when he saw Seokjin squeeze Yoongi’s shoulder, mumbling something about how he was just jealous.

“I mean… neither did I,” Hoseok chuckled, seeming still completely out of it, unbelieving.

“Thought about it a lot, huh?” Taehyung asked, grinning, and for a moment, you could see Hoseok struggling to answer, decide whether or not he wanted to admit the blatant truth, confess that he’d been imagining this more times than he should have. In the end, he cared less about saving face and looking cool, and much more about who he had his arm wrapped around, finally.

“Yeah, always.”

And just like that, Chaeyoung pulled him down for another kiss. The sight warmed Jisoo’s heart because she turned to Jennie, reaching out for her. With a slight tug, she was at Jennie’s side. You laughed, shaking your head, just to catch Jungkook looking at you. For a moment, you didn’t quite know what to do even though you weren’t the one caught staring. The same couldn’t be said about Jungkook. He didn’t seem to care at all, eyes not holding an ounce of uncertainty. It was obvious that he was much more confident and comfortable with being seen by you. Something you still weren’t at this point, not entirely at least, not right in this very moment, or… actually ever.

Jungkook didn’t say anything as he stretched his hand out. You hesitated, if just for a second. Because maybe you shouldn’t. Not when your heart was beating the way it was. And yet, you did take it, did let him pull you close and hold you and press his lips to the top of your head.

“You don’t have to meet them if you don’t want to.”

He whispered it, spoke in a soft and warm voice. His words floated to your ears, and you knew. You didn’t have to do anything ever actually. Not for him at least. He expected nothing from you. You closed your eyes, and listened to his heartbeat in his chest. Strong and firm. It was the opposite of yours. Yours was a mess, thumping and skipping beats.

“I will.”

Jungkook smiled as bright as the sun, pressing another kiss to your head. You could feel the excitement rushing through his fingertips, his arm tightening around you. You didn’t know the reason for it, his excitement. It didn’t make sense why he would be, you weren’t his girlfriend after all. You refused to think about it, preferring the bliss of ignorance.

God, you loved him so much. You did. You loved Jungkook to an indescribable amount. And God, was it time to stop all of this.

The video had been playing for less than twenty seconds when the call came in, your phone lighting up beside you. You paused your laptop, his name taking up your entire phone screen. And though Jungkook and you had begun calling each other more frequently now, spending at least once a week on the phone together, you were confused when you glanced at the time. But you accepted the call, sliding your thumb over the glass. Some ruffling met your ears before finally, he came through.

“Hi.”

For some reason, there was a smile on your lips.

“What do you want?” you laughed, glancing at the time in the upper left corner of your phone. 01:24. “It’s late. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Could say the same about you,” Jungkook argued, and you rolled your eyes, scoffing slightly, already sensing where this was going. You leaned back into your couch, looking at the ceiling with renewed interest.

“I’m not tired.”

“Neither am I.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then neither do I.”

“Well, you had a full day of classes today, so you must be at least a little tired,” you shot back, and a beat of silence passed. For a moment, it seemed like you came out victorious.

“You know my schedule?”

The question hung in front of you, and you were glad that this was just a call. Because you could see it, his stupid face. The proud smile on his lips, the grin that adorned it. He would inch closer to you, push you to answer, and you would cave and crumble terribly.

“... no.”

And Jungkook began laughing almost immediately, his voice booming through your phone. You cringed, biting your tongue.

“I’m going to hang up.”

“No, no, no, don’t,” he said, still laughing however. “I’m sorry.”

His apology didn’t sound an ounce sincere, but you were never going to actually hang up. A comfortable silence passed, and you could have stayed on the phone forever.

“Oh, have you watched the newest video I sent you yet?”

“You mean the two hour long video essay about the phenomenal music scoring of Avatar?” you hummed, glancing over to your laptop to see the screen dark already. “Yeah, I was about to watch it when you called.”

Somehow, you could hear his smile forming on his lips. “You should watch it.”

“Yeah, I will,” you said, sighing and rolling your eyes.

There was silence for another few seconds.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, and you could tell he was genuinely curious. You blinked, having completely forgotten what you had been up to until he called. You looked at the ball of yarn sitting in your lap, your attempt at a scarf hanging between the two knitting needles. But you couldn’t tell him, it would ruin the surprise.

And so, you returned the question instead. “What are you doing?”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

Jungkook sighed. “You’re very fun to talk to sometimes, you know?”

You laughed, not missing the irony in his voice. “Thanks. You are too.”

“Just tell me,” he said, and you frowned at his poor attempt to get you to talk.

“Why don’t you tell me first?”

He let out a small scoff, and you could picture his face perfectly. The way his tongue would be digging into his cheek and his eyes rolling back because God, you were frustrating sometimes! But there would be an undeniable smile on his lips. There always was.

“Alright,” Jungkook said, and you raised your brows. “I’m outside.”

You frowned. “Where are you going? At this hour?”

“Why don’t you guess?”

“Just tell me.”

He paused, hesitated. Somehow, you could hear his grin turn bigger.

“How about you look outside and see for yourself instead?”

Your heart sank in your chest, something strange taking hold of you. You moved without a thought, almost knocking over one of your pothos sitting on your window sill when you pulled the curtain aside. The glass was cool to touch, but you pressed your entire hand against it, just to feel something steady. Because right now, you felt the opposite of it, heart jumping to your throat and beating there like it was bound to fall out. Because there was no way that he was here right now! This wasn’t a cheesy romcom! But you also knew that he wouldn’t lie to you.

And he didn’t.

There he was, standing on the sidewalk, in front of your building, phone pressed to his ear, head in his neck, mouth in a grin and waving up to you.

You opened and closed your mouth several times, scoffing in the end and shaking your head.

“You’re so… stupid, Jeon.”

Jungkook laughed, “Well, that’s been established before.”

“You’re such a ridiculous stupid little man, Jeon!” you went on, pressing a hand to your forehead and squeezing your eyes closed for a moment. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, is it a crime now to drop by your girlfriend’s home when you miss her?”

The words rolled off his tongue with a certain confidence and ease. Two things you rarely ever had, even less around Jungkook. It always seemed so very fragile and dangerous, to be so open and vulnerable. You couldn’t snap back, tell him how ridiculous he was because you had just seen each other two days ago at the Christmas party. Hell, you had been spending almost every day with each other—either on the phone or in person driving to Seo’s bakery to pick up your needed batch of cookies or watching Avatar until you both could recite every line. And yet here he was, telling you that he missed you, so much so that he needed to see you in the middle of the night, at 1:42.

Right then, it became blatantly obvious to you—that Jungkook and you had crudely blown the lines you had established beforehand, agreed to contractually, into absolute smithereens, that you two had made new ones, dangerous ones, ones that resembled an actual relationship, and that, even worse, you had not only never talked about it but gotten used to the new rules, comfortable.

And even with that realisation lingering in your mind with big glaring bright red flags hissed high above and every possible alarm blaring in the air, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Jungkook that this was wrong, that he should go home. You should, it would spare your sanity. But your heart had only grown bigger and fonder of him. And it was horrible because you knew even more time with him, alone, in your own four walls, was the worst thing you could do. There would be nowhere for you to go, run off to. But you couldn’t send him home. Because really, you didn’t want to. Because it did excite you. That he was here. That he had gotten up, changed, and made his way to you. That the cold hadn’t even been enough to stop him.

“Now, open up. It’s freezing. My hands and feet are already blue,” he told you, adding a dramatic shiver to his words.

You paused, frowned, searched and didn’t see it anywhere. It clicked with you. You hadn’t heard the engine or turn signal during the entirety of your call.

“Did you- did you walk here? Why didn’t you take your car?”

“Felt like it.”

“You’re so stupid, oh my God,” you groaned, rolling your eyes as you repeatedly pressed the buzzer to open the front door for him. “Never ever do that again. It’s freezing outside!”

Jungkook responded with a laugh. It echoed on the walls of your empty lobby, reverberating through the phone. “Alright, I won’t. I promise.”

“Also, shouldn’t you be writing that stupid paper about Newton or Einstein or whatever?”

“It’s not about either of them, but I still have a bit of time until the deadline,” he explained, and you heard him walk up the stairs. “Thanks for remembering though.”

You pressed your lips together. “What if I was sleeping?”

“But you aren’t.” He sounded so incredibly smug and proud. You could have punched him. “Also, I know you, cabbage. You’d rather die than go to bed at a reasonable time.”

And somehow, that admission embarrassed you. It did. Terribly. Because he did, he did know you oh so well.

You left the front door ajar for him, waiting there with your hands folded in front of you, fingers picking on each other, as you listened to his steps grow closer and louder. His hand was the first thing you saw, reaching and touching the doorknob, and then it was suddenly just all of him. In front of you. He smiled at your sight, and you knew you looked more embarrassed and unsure than ever before. You were relieved you still hadn’t changed the lightbulb that had burned through all those months ago, allowing the dark to obscure you from him, a soft shadow across your face.

Jungkook shrugged off his coat, hanging it on the hook behind the front door and revealing his maroon knit sweater and black pants to you. When he looked at you again, his gaze softened.

“Hi, cabbage.” His cheeks and nose were brutally red from the wind, but he seemed as happy as ever. “I made you something.”

You noticed the metal lunchbox in his hands only when he pushed it towards you, and when you took it, it was still warm. Like whatever he had prepared, he had packed up the minute it was done and came straight to you.

“What did you make?” you asked, and you knew he wouldn’t tell you, waiting for you to open the lunchbox instead and discover for yourself. You peeled open the lid just a little, revealing a small corner when the smell hit you. Your eyes shot to Jungkook, and he looked both sheepish and proud.

“You didn’t.”

A gasp, your features melting. He wrinkled his nose, turned his head to the side.

“I was gonna go get some from Seo’s Bakery, but they- did you know they’re on Christmas break?”

You nodded, eyes unable to take off of him, blabbering, “Yeah, of course. They always are. Every Christmas. Have always been.”

Jungkook made a gesture towards you, shrugging. “Well, so I thought- I don’t know. I’d make you some instead. You gotta fuel your addiction somehow, right?”

There was no denying how many sweet gestures Jungkook had made ever since you’d been doing this (whatever one might classify this as). The amount of flowers and cookies he’d showered you with. The amount of smiles and laughs he’d pulled from you. The amount of love he’d shown you, even if it wasn’t real.

You put the lunchbox aside, needing to return the gesture at least once. Leaning over your couch, you grabbed the half-finished scarf you’d made for him. You wanted to show him, reciprocate some of the affection and love. But in your haste, you forgot the ball of yarn the scarf was connected to.

“Oh, fuck.”

Like a roll of paper, it unfurled, and though it would be annoying to roll it all up again, you shoved the scarf into Jungkook’s face, uncaring.

“It’s not finished- or particularly well done. But- I made that… for you,” you hesitated, a lump lodged in your throat. “I also just chose a random colour- if you don’t like red, I could definitely change it, you know. It’s not even done-”

He took it from your hands, silencing you. Your brows knit together as you watched him admire the intricate and detailed rows of red yarn. And then, he wrapped it around his neck even though the scarf was still attached to the ball of yarn and the knitting needles were poking into his neck.

“Wait, no,” you laughed, already reaching to take it off. “You don’t have to wear it or anything- Like I said, it’s not even done. I still have to-”

Jungkook took hold of your hands. Your eyes met his. He smiled at you.

“You’re so cute, cabbage,” he told you, his gaze so full and soft. And you melted right then and there, your face lit up like a fire. Melted even more so when Jungkook kissed you and pressed his forehead against yours. “I love it, cabbage. Thank you so much.”

“Really?” you said it softly, delicately, anxiously.

As if it was a proper way of responding, Jungkook took your hand and placed it on his chest. You could feel it then, under your palm and fingertips, through the fabric of his sweater, his heart.

“Really.”

And you let yourself believe him a little.

You don’t know how. It was blurry to you, all of it, but somehow, his head ended up in your lap with your fingers threading through his hair and your back pressed to the side of your bed. You both shared the batch of cookies while you finished a few more rows for the scarf before ultimately calling it, putting it to the side, promising him you’d finish it as soon as possible. Instead, a bottle of supermarket wine found its way into your hands, the glasses always filled with the red liquid. Neither of you said much. And really, there simply wasn’t a need to, the minutes ticking by as the night went on and on. An intimacy lay between you, an intimacy most would never know, an intimacy that could only come from the strange nature of your relationship.

“What?” you said, almost laughing, sure you had to have misheard him.

“I’m serious. I really like it here,” Jungkook repeated. “I like your home, a lot.”

Your mouth opened and closed before you shook your head and laughed. “But why?”

To you, there wasn’t much to like about your home here. If anything there was more to dislike than like. It was too cramped, too small. The furniture was old and shabby and the lights didn’t even work properly. On bad days, it would get either unbearably freezing or hot in here. And on particularly bad days where your luck had run out, the water would run cold and the electricity cut out. There wasn’t much to love here, except for your big bed and pothos you had on your window sill.

“I feel like I get to see another side of you,” Jungkook told you, shrugging and wrinkling his nose. “You seem much more relaxed at home.”

You frowned. “Where else should I be relaxed if not at home?”

He rolled his eyes at your comment, shaking his head. “No, I just mean… you don’t seem on guard at home.”

“I’m on guard?”

There was a pause. He looked at you for a long time, eyes wandering across your entire face.

“Yeah, sometimes.” He wrinkled his forehead a little. “I think you used to be more on guard, or at least you were around me.” There was another pause, another beat, another moment of suspense. “Wouldn’t you say you’ve opened up to me more since you let me in here for the first time?”

The question stumped you. Because did everything really change then? You couldn’t say. To a certain degree, Jungkook was right. Things had drastically shifted between him and you. Before you would have never been in this position—on the floor together, in your home, his head in your lap and your hands combing through his hair as you shared cookies and wine. But before you would have talked about it, established rules and laws and all kinds of conditions, and gone through every possibility. Now though, the two of you had gotten awfully comfortable with just simply not.

“Why? Because I slept with you?” you quipped, knowing already even in your slightly tipsy state that it wasn’t that.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said, sighing. You wrinkled your nose and looked to the ceiling for a few moments, leaning your head back.

“Should I be on guard?”

“Around me?” Jungkook said, shaking his head. “No, never. I’m an honest boy.”

You laughed, even more so when you looked at him and he was grinning proudly into your face, standing by his cheesy words. “You make me want to kick you out.”

“Please don’t,” he said, offering you puppy eyes and snuggling even closer to you. “I wouldn’t know what to do if you did.”

He winced when you tugged on his hair, slightly away from you. “You’re annoying.”

Jungkook laughed, and you went back to silence for a while.

“Are you ever going to tell me what Joon and the others said to you that made you run into the bathroom the other day?”

It was probably the alcohol, all the time you had spent together, sitting there on the cold floor. Your mind wasn’t the clearest anymore, and neither was his.

“They just told me how whipped you are for me. How deeply and madly you’re in love with me,” you snorted, teasingly inching closer to his face with each word before pulling away.

He smiled a little, clearly expecting worse. “Really? They said that?”

“I know.” You took two big sips, downing more than half of what was in the glass, not wanting to lose that fuzzy feeling in your veins. “It’s funny, right?”

You snorted, knowing exactly what he was thinking—That was ridiculous!

“But true.”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. But he said it softly. So softly in fact you looked at him to check that you hadn’t made it up. When his mouth widened into a grin, you scoffed.

“Oh, shut up.”

“It’s true. I do. I am.”

It sounded so very ironic to your ears. You shook your head and scoffed. “Is that what you told Narae too?”

Her mention from your lips surprised Jungkook, his eyes growing a little wider. You were equally as taken aback. But it was true. Because you did think about it sometimes if he did and said the same things to Narae. If everything you experienced with him had been experienced before, just with someone else, someone with a perfect smile and perfect parents.

“You don’t know me at all, Y/N,” Jungkook mumbled, and it sounded accusatory.

Your heart dropped in your chest. It felt like you were shot, the hurt instant. You looked away, teeth sinking into your tongue. But he wasn’t off. You didn’t know Jungkook very well. Why should you though? Not like he and you were anything meaningful, like you shared anything truthful. And it was so very embarrassing, so very embarrassing that you felt hurt at all.

Jungkook seemed to surprise himself with his words, seemed not to mean it like that because he was scrambling the very next second, lifting up from your lap and pleading for you to look his way.

“No, no, no, I-I don’t mean it like that,” he said, voice a little higher than usual, reaching for your hand, squeezing. There’s a desperation in his voice, a panic swinging with it that he might have just ruined a perfectly fine conversation.

“You just seem to,” he hesitated, “have this very weird and funny idea of me in your head. I-I never told Narae anything like that. You’re the first one.”

You looked at him. There was a deep crease between his brows, and he went on when you wouldn’t say anything.

“You’re the only one who’s ever made me do these weird things, you know?” He added a chuckle, but there wasn’t much humour to it at all. You tried to smile for him, feeling this conversation was taking a rather serious turn. It was in dire need of some lightness.

“I make you do weird things?” you mumbled, slightly shaking your head, looking away. “I don’t think I’m capable of that.”

“Do you really think I’d try to bake cookies for anyone else in the middle of the night? Or walk to their home at night, not knowing if they’re even actually home because I wanted to surprise them? Or send every Avatar video essay I come across? Do you really think I’d want to dress up with anyone else in a couple’s costume than you?”

You couldn’t find the right response then, your lips pressing together. It was difficult for you to say whether or not you believed him. Because you didn’t think you did, not genuinely at least, not deep down. You never really did with Jungkook, believe him. Because you never let yourself go there, not fully. In the back of your mind, you knew that this was ending, only started because of a stupid little meaningless bet, that your relationship whichever form it had morphed to had no real genuine basis.

“Do you really think I’d tell anyone else I-”

You shoved a cookie into his mouth, silencing him. Your gaze turned sideways, it was easier to speak for you then. If you looked at Jungkook, you wouldn’t be able to say anything.

“Alright, I got it, Jeon. Now, eat your cookie and shut up,” you chuckled, and your words were accompanied with a lightness, a lightness you forced out of yourself and hoped was enough to quiet Jungkook. He stared at you, eyes big, before ultimately letting out a chuckle himself when he saw you smile at him. He held onto your hand, squeezing it.

“If I wasn’t too lazy to reach for my phone, I’d take a picture of you right now,” he told you with his mouth stuffed, matching your tone, keeping it light and fun. It was amazing, how both of you simply moved on. He broke off a piece and held it to your mouth. You took it from his fingertips, letting him feed you. The sugar melted on your tongue. “Really thought you had learned your lesson, you know? That you were less judgemental now.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, still chewing. He laughed when you rolled your eyes.

For a few minutes, neither of you said anything. It seemed like the moment had resolved as easily as it had come up. You took a few sips from your glass, filling it back up when you emptied it, and Jungkook shared the last bite of the cookie with you, holding the piece in front of your lips and allowing you to pull it from his fingertips. And when he kept his fingers in front of your mouth, you pressed a quick kiss to them. He smiled and took your hand into his again, fingers interlacing.

“You’re so weird,” you said, the corners of your eyes creasing when you smiled.

Jungkook returned it, opened his mouth to retort something clever and funny, but it was like the fire died in him, as if he simply couldn’t let the moment from before slide as easily as you both had hoped and tried for it to. He reached for it again, pulling it back on shore. His face changed, morphed into something else. You couldn’t pinpoint his exact expression, but your stomach churned. For a second, you felt this brief need to cry.

“You—” He hesitated, afraid to ask because he knew you didn’t want him to and he shouldn’t but he needed to ask. “—believe me, right?”

And somehow that question carried the entire weight of the earth because you suffocated underneath it in an instant. There seemed to be so much. It didn’t make sense, there shouldn’t be any deeper meaning behind his question. After all, he and you weren’t anything! And yet, he looked at you as if you were. When you wouldn’t respond, looked away instead, Jungkook let out a chuckle. But it sounded empty and dry, and you knew you had hurt him.

“I’m sorry.”

There was a sadness to your words, and he noticed. It was the same kind of sadness he heard colouring your words when you had told him about Jaehwa and the heartbreak that had come with him. And he knew then not to take it to heart, your inability to believe him.

“I’m sorry. I want to- It’s just-”

There was desperation, hurt, frustration. You buried your face into your hands, eyes closing. It’s just hard sometimes! I don’t really believe anyone really, you wanted to say. But you didn’t. The admission felt too much, too hard to bring over your lips, too honest. You couldn’t do it.

Jungkook didn’t say anything, and you waited for him to take all of his things and go. The front door would click shut and with that, you would have ruined it, all of it, the past few months. But it didn’t happen. You didn’t hear his steps moving away from you, or the front door opening. Instead, Jungkook cupped your face with both of his hands, a smile on his lips when you finally looked at him.

“It’s fine.”

And you wished it felt like that to you. Fine. But you hadn’t felt quite fine for a while now. Not since your heart began filling up every time you looked at him.

“Is it?”

His gaze softened, melted like the first layer of snow in the early morning hours. His thumb brushed over your cheekbones, and his touch was so very warm and comforting. You closed your eyes, and he pressed his lips to yours. It did feel fine right then when he kissed you. He held you firmly and strongly, he wasn’t going to let go. Even if you might not believe him and had your doubts. Your hands curled around his shirt, and you were the one to pull it off of him. Because you needed that right now, something simple.

“Are you sure-”

You silenced him, removing your shirt. He looked at you for another second before kissing you again. You moved up from the floor to your bed. His lips pressed to every inch of your skin, slow and delicately. Your breathing flattened, soft whimpers emerging from your throat when his hands wandered, brushed the inside of your thighs. Jungkook was everywhere, holding and gripping and squeezing and kissing. It made your chest swell, and for a second, you thought you needed a second heart. Another one to hold it all in. All the feelings brewing inside you, all of your feelings for him. It was too much to bear for your one singular heart.

He held you, stayed close. He never allowed any space between him and you, never allowed you to think he’d get up and leave. And you never let him slip away from you, not tonight, caging him in. One day he would, you were certain of it, convinced. The contract was running up with each day, but right now, he was here, closer than ever.

And in the high of it all, your breaths mixed with his, the air smelling of sweat and lust, your faces flushed and bodies sticky, there were words lying between him and you. In fact, there was so much, it felt heavy. You hoped, in vain, he would let it slide, quietly.

“Y/N, I-”

Jungkook stopped when you shook your head, pleading. You knew the ending of his sentence, he had told you it many times before. And right now, the thought of hearing it, hurt you more than it ever had before.

“I-”

But he stopped again when you closed your eyes and pressed your lips to his in response, hands cupping his face. He hesitated at first before kissing you back, hoping you’d understand either way. That he wanted this. That he wanted you. You didn’t say it, but Jungkook knew not to cross that line, not right now. As if him not saying it would prevent the inevitable heartbreak you’d be going through in just a few weeks, would change anything. As if you didn’t already love him more than you could comprehend. As if loving him didn’t hurt you.

→ thanks for reading !! if you have any thoughts, id love to hear it!

#jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook implied smut #bts x reader

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syoounn · 24 days

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•Synopsis: Questioning them, "Will u still love me when im no longer young and beautiful?"

● Characters: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma.

● Inspired by Lana Del Ray's song "Young and Beautiful "

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Dazai

He chuckles softly, rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling and think, one arm behind his head as the other arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Hm? Course I will.”

He turns his head to look at you as his hand gently squeezes your hip.

"How so?" You asked.

“It’s pretty much impossible not to love you, Bella.."

Dazai chuckles again at the question, lifting the hand that’s behind his head to gently pinch your cheek, a light grin crossing his features.

“Because you’re damn perfect. Why wouldn’t I love you? I’m an idiot if I ever stop loving you.”

He huffed quietly, rolling over onto his side to pull you flush against him again, squeezing your thighs in adoration.

“Besides, you’ll always be the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Even when you’re old and wrinkly.” He grinned again, pinching your cheek again as he chuckled. “My pretty, pretty Belladonna.”

“Now, quit blabbering and kiss me already.” He murmured softly, his eyes trailing down to your lips, watching how they shine faintly in the dim light of the room from the moisture.

“Or...how about I show you just how much I love you.. hmm?"

hums at your comment, nipping your neck again. His fingers make their way down your torso, tracing your body with a loving touch. He pauses as he reaches just above your belt, pulling away and meeting your gaze.

“How rough do you want it?” He whispers while he is smirking, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. You were left flustered and thrown a pillow on his face.

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Chuuya

"Huh?

“No longer beautiful? Hah, don't try and tease me with impossible situations, Doll. That’ll never happen.”

Chuuya teased you back. He gently pushed you down to lay on your back. He climbed over you with that same signature smirk on his lips, gazing down at you. He placed a kiss on your cheek before pulling back.

“You, beautiful, Doll. Have always been and always will be the most beautiful thing in the world to me. So there’s no possible way that I could ever stop lovin’ you.”

Chuuya pulls you into his lap and presses his forehead against yours.

“Because no matter how shitty you might look, you’ll always be my beloved. I’d love you even if you were bald and toothless with how wrinkly your skin is.” He teased you, pinching your cheek. “Ya could lose all your limbs, and I’d still adore you as much.”

You chuckled. "Really.. you think I'd looked shitty?"

“Heh, you’d probably still look gorgeous to me even if you could scare away a rat’s tail with your looks.” Chuuya gently pushed you down on the mattress, pinning you between him and the bed.

“So stop asking and thinkin’ about bullsh*t questions like that. You should already know that I’m crazy ‘bout you, dollface.”

"Hmm, how crazy?" You asked.

“Mm, I’d do anythin’ for you, Doll. Give you whatever you want, get you whatever you desire, go t’the ends of the Earth for you.”

He nuzzled into your neck, softly placing more kisses to your skin, his arms tightening around you.

“I’d kill for you, ‘specially if anyone hurt you. I’d ruin anyone’s life in an instant if it meant keepin’ this smile on your face.”

"No killing!" you said.

Chuuya rolled his eyes as he pulled back to look you in the face, his smirk softening to an affectionate smile at the sight of your expression. He reached up to gently cup your cheek again, his thumb rubbing over the skin.

“I was gettin’ dramatic for effect, Doll. I promise I’ll only fight ‘em, no killin’.”

He teased you as he placed a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose, his tone playful as you could still hear the affection behind his words. Therefore, he sounds like he wasn't kidding about that.

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Fyodor

His eyes flicker with something akin to surprise as he gazes at you. There's amusement in the slight curl of his lips.

"How strange, dear. You wish to know if I'll still love you once your beauty fades? Hm."

He laughs softly, and it sounds like chimes. He gives you a meaningful smile and shakes his head almost pityingly.

"Myshka, you're my wife. I took an oath to honour you and our marriage, as God intended. I have no need for some pretty girl I could spend some time with for a brief moment." He gives your hair a gentle tug. "You should know by now that I will always love you."

"Though you may become withered as you age, you may also come to become wiser. In my eyes, intelligence and wit are infinitely more endearing than mere beauty, my dear. However..." He falls silent. His eyes narrow into thin slits while a smirk stretches his lips. "Do not doubt my loyalty for a second, my dear. I am quite possessive of what is my own."

"Oh. And make no mistake, dear. You have been mine since the moment you confessed your feelings. I do not intend to give you up for any other being, no matter their worth."

"Ah.. you still remember that.." You said shyly.

"Indeed. How could I forget?" A teasing smile pulls the corners of his lips into a slight smirk. "Your trembling hands and words stumbling over each other as you confessed your feelings—it was truly adorable."

"So, my dear, why do you ask me such questions? Are you experiencing doubts, perhaps?" He lifts a finely manicured brow, a playful edge to his low voice as he tilts his head to the side.

"I was just curious.."

I see. He hums. His fingers come to run over your cheek before he places his palm against it. His skin feels a bit cold against your warm flesh. Once more, he remains silent for a moment. The dark eyes, looking into yours, seem to sparkle as the corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk.

"There's no need to worry, my love. I'll love you until we're both buried in the ground, my sweet rose. Nothing will change my affection for you. No matter your age, you'll be beautiful to me."

"Though, I must admit, a child of yours and mine would be the most beautiful creature in this world." A thin smile pulls his lips apart as he tilts his head towards yours, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I wonder how it would be, to see you, oh, so pregnant with my child. Hm."

"Ch-..Child?!" You said surprised.

His smile widens. An amused huff of laughter escapes him, his breath fanning across your lips. "Oh, Myshka. Don't act so surprised. Did you think I married you with the idea of never having offspring?"

"Now, my sweet flower, tell me..." he begins, his voice dropping to a low murmur once more. "Do you truly think I would waste your beauty and fertile body until you reach your older age?"

He shakes his head. The smirk on his lips turns almost smug.

"Of course not, darling."

"Your body was made to bear children for your husband. So... are you not excited, my love?" He laughs lowly, his breath tickling your skin. "I have always been told I had many..." He hesitates, his mouth curving into an amused little smile as fire flickers in his eyes. "...adventurous traits."

He then slowly guides your way to both your shared bedroom, still shocked about what Fyodor just said. Good luck handling him tonight.

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Nikolai

"Why, silly girl. I love you as my wife, not as a pretty bird for me to put into a golden cage." Nikolai pulls you into his embrace, gently nuzzling against the top of your head, and you can feel warm breath ghost against your skin as he speaks. “I’ll love you forever and always even when you get wrinklier than an old lemon~”

"Old lemon?" you said, confused.

Nikolai giggles.

“Ah, just a silly little metaphor~”

“But my point is~ I’ll still love you even if you no longer look young and beautiful.”

He cups your cheek in his hand and places a kiss on your lips.

"How can you be so sure.." You said blushing slightly at the sudden kiss.

Nikolai presses his forehead against yours, tilting his head slightly.

“Because you are the love of my life - my darling wife. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be a lot less sane than I am now~” He places another soft kiss on your lips.

"You're always sane!" you said.

He chuckles at that remark and pokes your forehead.

“Now, don’t get smart with me~”

“I may not stay sane if my darling wife keeps making little jabs at me…” He says in a jokingly threatening tone and flashes a grin.

He giggles before tackling you to the couch and pinning your hands above your head with his own.

“Or I may just have to get payback~”

He says, before starting to kiss you all over your face rapidly.

Nikolai laughs as he continues his “revenge”, planting kisses all over your face and giggling as he does. He gives your cheek one last final peck before speaking up again, his tone still playful.

“How about that~? Are you sorry now, hm?”

Nikolai’s hair drapes over his face like a curtain as he looks down at you, a smile still present on his face.

“But really, I love you- You’ll always be beautiful to me. Now, what makes you worry so much if I’ll still love you when you’re old, hmm-?”

"I just got curious.."

“How cute.”

He says playfully, as he takes a few strands of your hair and starts twirling it around his fingers.

“But don’t worry, love, we’ll grow old together, and I’ll still think that you’re beautiful, okay~?”

Nikolai pauses and sits up from being on top of you. His hair had become messier, and it draped over his face. He looks slightly more serious than his usual self and starts talking again.

“If you ever start to feel old or not beautiful, just look over at me, okay? Look at how beautiful I’ll still be, and you’ll still feel young and beautiful!”

He does a couple of dramatic gestures and throws a fit of giggles after his comment.

"As long as you remain mine, I shall keep adoring you. Forever." He said sounded serious and possessive way. Looks like he won't be planning to let you go... forever.

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Sigma

Sigma let out a soft chuckle as he heard these word, he leaned his head forward and then placed a gentle kiss on the side of your head before speaking in his soft, loving tone.

“You’ll always be beautiful in my eyes. You will always be the person that I love the most. So, of course, my love, my feelings for you would never change, no matter what.”

He let out a gentle sigh as he hugged you just a bit tightly, not wanting to let go yet.

“I shall love you no matter what, even when you’re no longer young and beautiful as you say.”

He thought about how much he absolutely loved spoiling you when it suddenly came to him a plan.

“Would you do me the honour of a date at my casino?” He asked as he took a hand up to cup your cheek gently, his thumb stroking over your cheek gently, and his grey eyes stared into yours with love and adoration.

"Hmm.. why suddenly?" you asked curiously.

He gave a small smile as he placed his hand gently on your chin and stroked over your lower lip with his thumb slowly and softly.

“Because you’re adorable, and I just want to pamper you. My love, what’s better than having a nice date at a casino with the best owner of them all to take care of you?”

His grey eyes glistened with a light shine as his heart beat faster just at the thought of showering your adorable self with love.

He quickly cleared his throat as he tried to calm himself down a bit. He was getting too lovey-dovey.

“You could wear that necklace I got you last time. It would look so lovely on your delicate neck.”

He chuckled as he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips before pulling back, his thumb still gently stroking your lips as he listened to his rapidly beating heart. His face flushed lightly as he smiled at you and looked into your eyes.

“I’ll book out the entire casino, darling, so it’s just us. After all, no one deserves to be spoiled like you do. My love.”

He said as he reached out and began stroking over your hair gently.

"Sigma.." you said in a tearful expression, feeling happy and loved.

Sigma’s eyes widened slightly upon seeing his partner get teary-eyed at his words. He moved his free hand to gently wipe away those tears and then gave you a gentle reassuring smile. “Ah.. My love….did I say something wrong?” He asked with some worry in his tone while rubbing his free hand along your back to soothe you.

"No... i love you..." you said smiling.

Sigma’s heart flutters upon his partner, saying those three words. He held you close against his chest as he placed a kiss on top of your head. “I love you too, my dear, more than words could ever express…”

He added in a soft tone before holding your hand gently, rubbing his thumb over it in a soothing manner to calm you down. “There’s no need to cry, my love, we’ll stay together forever. You’re perfect in every sense of the word, and nothing could ever make me love you less.” Sigma said in a reassuring tone while giving you a soft kiss.

As then, both of you have a romantic date tonight.

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#bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd fluff #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #sigma x reader #dazai x reader #nikolai x reader #bsd x female reader

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frannyzooey · 2 months

Text

Down the Hall

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Tags: Explicit, age gap because you know what I'm about (Frankie is your mom’s boyfriend, he is in his 40s, you are in your mid-20s)

A/N: Yea….so this is dedicated to @intheorangebedroom who inspired this entire idea and to @whatsnewalycat whose beautiful brain and writing inspired me as well. Thank you to @astroboots for cheering me on, to @bageldaddy for the super in depth beta and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed by "does this hit" worries — your minds are golden and I am so happy you support this utter filth. Ily ❤️

He thought that dating someone his own age would ground him, steady him. Not that he ever paid much attention to the age of the women he dated, but he thought with someone who had their own shit figured out, he might be inspired to do the same.

Unmoored and unattached since he joined the army in his twenties, he was pushing forty now and craved some kind of routine. Living alone gave him too much time for thinking, too many hours spent inside his own head. He knew that living like that for too long could lead to bad decisions and thought he might hold himself to a higher standard when he saw how they held themselves to one.

He met her at a bar – the most cliche of meeting places, but for good reason. She was out with friends after work and from the start, he was attracted to the way she smiled with her whole mouth. Everything about her seemed sensuous and fun, so inviting that he found himself drawn in and when he asked if he could take the seat next to her, he matched her smile with one of his own.

When she invited him home that night, he buried himself deep while feasting on that generous mouth.

He stayed that night, and then one night became twice a week, became three – and before he knew it, his lease was up on his apartment and he moved in. It was nice to come home to someone after work. To know that someone was there, wondering how his day went. To have a warm body curled up next to him in bed.

She was so independent, so driven. A corporate job that required her to dress in slippery blouses and pretty skirts with heels; the same he loved to strip from her when she came home all stressed out the way she did sometimes. And she had a kid – a daughter – already in college somewhere on the east coast, but that didn’t bother him. Dating in his forties meant people already had their own histories, and he was no exception.

Sometimes after she fell asleep and he had time alone to think, he still felt something that itched beneath his skin. Something that pulled at him from within, something that remained unsettled. He told himself that it was just an adjustment period after so many years of being unattached, and shoved those feelings deep down inside of him, determined to ignore them until he taught himself a new way to live.

Her breathing deep and steady beside him, he told himself that she was good for him.

That was what counted.

He was all for it when she told him her daughter was coming home to stay the summer between semesters. He liked the idea of having another person in the house – another distraction, another responsibility to take him out of his own head.

He worked odd hours, and during his off days, Frankie took up the task of preparing her daughter’s old room. Light pink walls, a creamy bedspread dotted with delicate flowers: his mind supplied an automatic image of the little girl that lined the hallway in frames. He knew she was older than that now, but the way her mom talked about her, he couldn’t help imagining a little kid.

Tasked with picking her up from the airport the day she arrived, he had just stepped out of the shower when he heard the doorbell. Frowning, he tugged a shirt over his damp curls, and opened the door.

Jesus Christ. Speechless, he stared at the prettiest woman he’d ever seen.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” you apologized, tugging a heavy bag higher up on your shoulder. “I got in early and thought an Uber would be faster.”

He stood there for a moment, just staring, his mouth slightly parted in confusion. And then he saw it: the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lush mouth. The resemblance stamped across your delicate features.

“I couldn’t find my key.” You stood there, looking uneasy on your own doorstep. “You must be Frankie. Or is it Francisco? My mom said you’d be here. It’s nice to meet you.”

At the rounded sound of his full name coming from your mouth, his gaze snapped back to meet your eyes while you hung there, clearly waiting for him to say something. His body was slow to catch up with his brain, the little girl his mind supplied was gone, replaced by the vision that stood in front of him. Still young and fresh-faced, but grown nonetheless and so, so fucking beautiful.

When you gestured towards the house behind him, he finally shook himself from the initial shock.

“Shit,” he apologized, stepping back out of your way. “Yea, it’s Frankie. Nice to meet you.” You gave him a half smile, and when you stepped inside, he reached for your bag. “Here, let me grab that.”

His hand dragging through his curls, he stood in the entryway and watched you make yourself at home: your shoes immediately kicked off on the doormat, your jacket hung neatly next to his own like it had always belonged there.

“Do you know when my mom gets home?”

He cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the length of your legs underneath the hem of your shorts. “Uh, she said probably around six? That’s when she usually gets home.”

You nodded, holding your hand out for your bag and for a split second, he wondered if he should bring it upstairs for you. It would be the polite thing to do, but the idea of entering your room now felt like overstepping. You weren’t a kid, you didn’t need him like that. The boundaries had suddenly blurred and shifted, and he whisked away the image of you settling into your bedroom just as fast as it popped into his head.

When you grabbed the bag from him, he felt relief.

It was easy to avoid you for the afternoon while you got settled. Instead, he mowed the lawn, prepared dinner, all the while with his ears attuned to the sound of you walking around above him. He felt on edge, anxious. The excitement he thought he would feel with someone else in the house had turned into unease.

He made himself an outsider, even more so when your mom came home. Not wanting to intrude on your time together, he stayed in the kitchen to cook dinner for the two of you and delivered it to the living room, placing your plates on the coffee table.

“Thank you, baby, that’s so nice.” Your mother scooted forward, tilting her chin up towards him in a silent request for a kiss.

Granting it to her, he felt her familiar hold slip around the back of his neck to keep him in place for a moment, keenly aware of the way you were right there. For a split second while his lips were still on hers, he glanced up at you and it was clear that he caught you watching by the way you hastily looked away the second he met your eyes.

He fucked her hard that night, his hand over her mouth so you wouldn’t hear.

She was gone in the morning when he made his way downstairs, and he was pleasantly surprised to find coffee already in the pot.

“I made extra,” you said, from your perch on the chair at the table. Sleep shorts high on your thighs, an oversized tee shirt covering your top half. The way it engulfed you made you look younger than you were.

He looked away, busying himself with pouring a cup.

“I drink a lot, so I made a lot,” you explained with shy self-deprecation.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, sitting down at the table. “Got any plans for today? Or for the summer, I guess?”

Wading the tentative waters of getting to know someone, he watched your fingers play with the edge of the paper.

“Just relax for a bit, I think? Catch up with some old friends? No plan really. I just didn’t want to hang out on a deserted campus.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.”

And so began the morning routine you would both share for the next few weeks. Hesitant and quiet around each other in the beginning, sliding into something normal fairly fast. Your mother was early to rise and early to bed, but he had never been and neither were you.

He joined you in the late morning at the kitchen table, the curve of your soft cheek highlighted in the slant of light through the window. On the couch at night, a different kind of illumination from the light of the TV, yet hitting your cheek just the same. Your things scattered around the living room, your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom, your clothes mixed with his in the wash.

Your proximity was what he blamed for the constant thoughts he had about you.

Every morning he admired how rumpled you looked, how sleepy and soft and inviting. It was endearing, but soon other thoughts edged out the more innocent ones: thoughts about your legs wrapped around his waist, your slender fingers wrapped around something other than a coffee cup.

The want he felt for you pooled in various places inside him: his brain, his chest, between his thighs. It spilled down the shower drain and spilled hot across his stomach.

It flooded your mother’s mouth, and she was none the wiser.

Afterwards, she tucked her face into the meat of his shoulder, pressing a kiss against the skin there. Sated and content, she curled herself around him. “Let’s do something this weekend together. Actually make use of that pool we have for once.”

A barbecue. She’d been talking about having one for a while.

“We’ve been working so hard. I feel like I barely even see you, honey.”

Something akin to guilt tugged at him, thinking of the shifts he had been picking up in an effort to avoid you. Your eyes, your smile, your stupid sleep shorts.

He hummed his agreement and she kissed him in thanks, her breaths eventually evening out as she fell asleep.

Frankie lay awake, the image of your closed bedroom door stuck in his mind.

–

“Jesus Christ,” you murmured as you watched Frankie climb out of the pool.

Broad, bare shoulders, tanned swathes of skin, cute little dimples just above his ass. Water ran down over his tanned skin, the thin material of his swim shorts stuck to his ass and when he turned around to grab a towel off a nearby chair, you were glad for your sunglasses.

Fuck me.

The material of his shorts molded to every inch of his thick cock, the shape clearly outlined. Oblivious, he ran the towel over his curls, over his shoulders and arms, down his torso – and when his hand gingerly pulled the material away from his crotch, you memorized the swirl of dark hair that surrounded his navel and led down.

“Can you help me with the grill, honey?”

Your mom’s voice pulled your attention away from him.

Her boyfriend, you reminded yourself. Frankie was her boyfriend.

“Yea,” he called back, chucking his towel on the chair. “Be right there. Let me put a shirt on.”

The shirt he shrugged over his head was the same one you folded that morning. The material was threadbare and super soft, the muscles of his back shifting underneath the thin fabric as he sauntered over to the grill. You knew the way it felt in your hands, and at the thought of his body heat through the material, you pressed your thighs together.

The afternoon sun bathed you in warmth, but it was nothing compared to the heat that pooled inside your bottoms as you continued to watch him from your recline by the pool. His brown curls glinted in the sun, his throat bobbing with a swallow when your mother brought him a beer.

When his eyes flashed over to you, you finally looked away.

You saw those deep, doleful brown eyes in your sleep.

You felt them on you all the time: in the dark living room during family movie time, your mother curled up against his side. In the kitchen after dinner, when you loaded the dishwasher while he put away the food. In the mornings, when you pretended to read the paper while he snuck hooded peeks at you and drank you in.

Startled by his handsomeness from the very first time you laid eyes on him, your crush only grew with every passing day spent in his company. He was so thoughtful, so attentive and kind, but it was something else buried within his gaze that drew you in.

A barely restrained want that shone clear on his face every time he looked at you. A need simmering under the surface, you saw the way he fought it.

You thought about him constantly: imagined him crowding you against the counter in the kitchen, saw him pulling back the shower curtain to join you, pretended your fingers were his in your bed at night.

Born out of your own need, you pushed him. Played with the limits of his self control, desperate for him to make a move. No action overt enough to be blatant, the way he stared at you made you feel confident, bold. The want pouring off his skin when you hung around him was obvious and thick, filling the space between the two of you until he inevitably excused himself.

When it’s time to eat, you take a seat next to him on the bench, your thigh pressed hot against his. You waited for him to pull away, but he never did and the intimate sensation of the hair on his leg brushing against your own smoother skin made it hard to eat, though you missed it when he got up.

Your mother, one margarita too many and giggly and loose, pulled him into a dance under the stars that had just begun to come out. He humored her, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her close, smiling at every murmured secret she slipped into his ear.

You watched the scene unfold right in front of you with a fond, humoring expression, and his eyes kept finding yours, flashing in the darkness.

You pretended nonchalance, but the entire time, you wanted.

He took her to bed while you cleaned up the kitchen.

You knew he fucked her – you heard it sometimes. They tried to be quiet for your sake but sometimes a whimper would slip down the hall, the deep reverberation of a groan in the dark.

Climbing into bed that night, your mind lingered on the image of his wet swim trunks. The dark swirl of hair, the heft in the outline.

You wondered what he fucked like with a cock like that.

–

“Something’s going on in the Arizona market,” your mom explained, tossing items into her suitcase. A silk blouse spilled over the side, and you tucked it back in with the rest. “I’ll be gone through Thursday, maybe Friday? Hopefully not the weekend, but I’ll let you know.”

“Do you need a ride to the airport?”

Smiling at you, she stepped forward and cupped your cheek with her hand for a moment. “That’s sweet, honey, but I’m good. Frankie’s got it.”

Apprehension swirled with anticipation, the joint feelings settled low in your gut. You’d been alone with him before, but never for this long. Never truly alone, for days on end.

The man himself poked his head around the corner of the doorway, the width of his shoulders filling out the frame. He glanced at you, and then his watch. “You about ready, baby?”

She bustled around the room, tossing things here and there onto the bed and he looked at you again, a slight frown pulling between his brows.

His expression gave something akin to frustration, and for a split second, you thought it was because of the time your mom was taking. When you felt his dark eyes drop down the length of your body involuntarily and then back up again, you turned away with a small smile, knowing it to be something else.

–

For the first couple days, he stayed away from the house as much as he could. Kept his distance until he ran out of errands, until he drove down the same stretch of road too many times. He didn’t trust himself to be alone with you, and he hated himself for it.

Self loathing creeped in every time he thought about the way his jeans tightened even thinking of you alone in the house. His girlfriend’s fucking daughter, half his age. The whole thing was fucked up.

And yet, he couldn’t stop.

He felt bad, thinking of you suddenly being all alone after spending so much time with people around, but he told himself that you probably loved having the space to yourself.

He came in the shower that morning to the thought of your mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, and he was unable to look you in the eye when he saw you in the kitchen afterward. Your hopeful expression lingered in his mind all day as he stretched out the hours.

The sky turned from light blue to dark, and he finally caved. He couldn’t stay away forever.

The house was quiet when he walked in, tossing his keys on the entryway table. He crept around, looking for any sign of your presence, until he heard the shower running upstairs. Light spilled down the staircase, and heading into the kitchen, he tried to push down the thoughts running rampant in his head.

He drank a glass of water, listening.

The shower turning off (your naked body, damp and warm), your footsteps padding down the hall (that smooth skin, hidden under your towel), your bedroom door shutting (the towel dropping onto your floor).

He stayed downstairs, turning the TV on to distract himself, the air in the house charged with a magnetic pull from your room. He waited until there had been nothing but silence for the better part of a half hour, then dared to venture upstairs.

He’d just say goodnight, that’s all. Just so you knew you weren’t alone.

His knuckles rapped against your door, and he pushed it open when he heard you say come in.

“Hey,” you greeted him, slight surprise on your face. Stretched out in bed, the inviting cloud of your comforter was plush underneath your body. You paused the movie you were watching, and sat up on your elbows. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days.”

“Yea,” he replied, leaning against the frame of your door. His eyes followed a slow path up your bare legs.

“Work been crazy or something?” you asked.

“Something like that, yea,” he answered. His hand stayed on the knob of your door, an anchor that kept him from crossing a line. “I actually just stopped by to say goodnight. I’m gonna turn in.”

“Already?” you teased. “It’s pretty early, isn’t it? Aren’t you gonna live it up while my mom is gone?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve lived it up enough. I’m an old man, remember? We don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“Forty-five is hardly an old man,” you scolded with a smile. “You wanna watch a movie instead?”

You patted the bed next to you, and his face sobered. You didn’t see it, instead reaching for the lotion on your bedside table to work some into your hands and the image of you jerking his cock with that same lotion flashed across his mind. He frowned.

“In here?”

You shrugged, laying back down. “I mean, I’m already all set up in here…”

You left the offer hanging, and even though he knew - he fucking knew he shouldn’t - he found himself nodding.

You looked surprised at his answer for a split second, and then pleased.

“Let me go get changed.”

He walked down the hall towards his room, scolding himself the entire time. Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t go back into that fucking room. Don’t think about how smooth her skin is and how much you want to kiss her. Don’t think about how her sheets smell like her, don’t think about how much you want to lick her cunt.

The thoughts ran on a loop as he peeled off his work clothes.

They echoed in his head as he pulled on his sweats.

They followed him out of his bedroom and all the way down the hall, stopping at your doorway.

You turned your head, looking at him expectantly, looking so fucking lush and innocent, so eager to have him join you.

He swallowed hard, mouth watering and left his guilt in the hallway, joining you in bed.

–

Pretending to ignore the heavy blanket of tension pulsing between your bodies, you kept your eyes fixed on the screen.

Stretched out next to you, he kept a respectable distance, but you felt the heat that poured off of his skin. He looked so large in your bed, so much like a man. His long limbs splayed out over your girlish comforter, his masculine scent filled the space and when he crossed his arms, you admired the way the hem of his sleeve stretched around his bicep.

Lightheaded and trembling with a heady want that ached between your thighs, you made it through the whole movie – until the room descended into darkness, until the credits rolled and the screen went black

Until it was just the two of you sitting side by side in the dark.

The sheets rustled when you rolled onto your side to face him.

“What did you think?” you asked quietly.

He looked down at you from his slouch on the bed, and your fingers twitched with the need to smooth away the crease that rested permanently between his brows. You would think he was mad if not for his eyes: those always look conflicted more than anything. Constant turmoil, roiling deep within the dark depths.

Not answering, he stared down at you for a long moment before shrugging.

“Okay, I guess. Well, have a good night.”

He then started to slide off the bed.

Disappointment flooded your chest, the tension that you’d been feeling for the last two hours releasing restlessly through your limbs. Already making plans to get your vibrator from your side table to use while burying your face into the sheets he was just sitting on, he stilled.

Your eyes fixed on his broad back, you could almost see the decision being made and he quickly turned before he could convince himself to stop.

Bending down, he kissed you.

It was consuming. The brush of his mustache, the taste of his mouth, the weight of his solid body as he pushed you into the bedding, draping it over yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth to slide against your own, and he swallowed the soft sound that caught in the back of your throat. Pushing himself into the cradle between your thighs, he forced them open wider as he deepened the kiss, and his dry, calloused hand slid underneath the hem of your shirt, wrapping around your hip.

You knew you should push him away, but your hands only dragged him closer, grabbing everything you could touch: the slip of his curls, the curve of his whiskered jaw, the rounds of his broad shoulders. You dug your fingertips into his sides as he ground his hips against yours and your knees hitched higher around his torso.

His hand wrapped around the top of your shin, pushing down to hold you in place.

“Jesus,” he breathed into your mouth between kisses, his fingers tightening in their hold before sliding down to touch everything he can: the meat of your hips, his big hand cupping your ass with a greedy squeeze. Need rolled off of him in waves, his touch betraying just how long he had thought about this and his mouth shifted down to devour the long line of your neck, tasting the sweet hollow of your throat.

Your pulse beat fast under his tongue, speeding up when he let out a groan against the sensitive skin.

“Take – take this off–” he sat back on his ankles, his hands fumbling with your shirt.

As soon as you pulled it over your head, his mouth latched onto your nipple. His tongue swirled around it, sliding over the peaked bud with a suck. His beard scraped across your sensitive skin, leaving a wet path that glistened over the plane of your chest as he dragged his mouth to your other breast and his heavy hand reached down to cup you wholly over your sleep shorts.

His fingers dug into the dip of your entrance and the heel of his hand ground hard against your clit.

“I can’t stop thinking about this pussy,” he confessed. His fingers rubbed harder, and he groaned hot against your skin. “I can already feel how soaked she is for me. How much she wants it.”

You nodded with a whimper, rolling your hips into his touch. “God yes. Please.”

He pulled back just enough to stare down at your face, his pitch black eyes sliding over your features to settle on your open mouth. “Tell me you want this. Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Yes. Please, please,” you begged.

“It’s gonna be a lot, baby.” He wetted his bottom lip with his tongue, his hand working, working, working. “She’s gonna need to be wet to take what I need her to take.”

A fresh wave of arousal washed through you, and your sleep shorts clung to your center with every grind of his palm. His thick fingers nudged the fabric to the side, exploring.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, releasing a heavy breath. “Fuck.”

His eyes fluttered shut with a frown as his touch slid through your soaked seam and kissing you again, he timed the slide of his tongue with the slick stretch of two fingers.

Your thighs opened wider around his waist, a whine crawling out of your throat when he pushed them deeper and when he started a smooth, audible stroke, you started to ride his hand.

You’d been watching his fingers for months: wrapped around the steering wheel in the car, loosely cradling the neck of a beer bottle, drumming against his thigh when he watched TV sometimes. You’d imagined them tucked inside you so many times, buried in your mouth or your cunt, and as he worked a third one in, you let out a filthy moan.

“I gotta work it open, baby,” he soothed, pulling your earlobe between his lips. “It’ll be okay. I know you can take it.”

His hips started to follow the rhythmic roll of his hand and when he seemed satisfied with how much you could take, he slid his fingers out, reaching to tear his shirt off over his head. When he pushed his fingers into his mouth for a moment, his lips wrapping around his knuckles as he sucked your taste off the thick digits, his hooded eyes took in the way you scrambled to take your sleep shorts off.

Following your lead, he dumped everything onto the floor beside your bed, and it felt like heaven when you felt his bare skin against the inside of your thighs. So broad, so firm and strong, his body pressed you into the mattress and you felt the hot, pulsing heft of his cock pushing against your cunt. You clenched at the teasing sensation of what was to come, and reached down to grasp him, but his hand caught yours and pushed it into the bedding above your head.

“Let me do it. I wanna watch your face when I put it in,” he confessed, resting his weight on top of you as he reached down with his other hand to guide himself in.

Sticky slick smeared between the both of you, and when the tip of his cock forced you to bloom around him, his eyes fixed on your face. Greedily, he devoured the sight of your mouth dropping open, a tiny tiny frown appearing between your brows and he thickened inside you, pushing forward.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “It’s so much.” So much more than you ever thought it would be, even with all the months spent imagining it.

He bottomed out and the air froze in your lungs, your cunt stuffed fuller than it’s ever been.

“Shhh,” he soothed, staying in place to let you adjust. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re so fucking tight, baby. So tight.”

Squirming underneath him, you hitched your knees higher around his torso and he rocked his hips to slide halfway out before grinding back in with a weighted push. He gave you a minute: a tense minute, a minute thick and full of wanting, a minute where all you could focus on was the stretch of his cock and the heated bulk of his body and the firmness of his chest pressed against yours.

He brushed his lips against yours, and gently rolled his hips.

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about this? About fucking you, in this bed?” His voice deep and breathless, it sounded overwhelmingly intimate breathed against your cheek.

You shook your head.

“I thought I was the only one,” you admitted. “I used to think – oh fuck – I used to think about you coming down the hallway in the night. Crawling into my bed and fucking me just like this. Just like I can hear you fuck her.”

“You listen to me fuck her?” His hips rocked forward a little faster, picking up pace.

“I can’t help it,” you whined. “The sounds – the sounds you make. I wanted to make you make them. I wanted to be the reason.”

His fingers pushed through the hold of your own, locking your hands together above your head and he dug his knees into the bed for leverage. Your breasts shifted underneath him, bouncing lightly as he fucked into you harder and his eyes dropped down to watch. “You are, baby. You are. I think about you all the time.”

Building steadily underneath him, your head pushed back into the bedding and his mouth found your throat, his teeth scraping against the tender skin. His hips never stopping their filling grind, you pushed your fingers through his curls and when he bit down with a suck, a slurred yes slipped out of your outstretched throat.

You imagined your mom seeing it, asking you if you went on a date with someone.

His strokes got harder, harsher, his hips snapping against yours and digging your fingers into the soft globes of his ass, you forced him deeper. When you clenched around his thick length, he looked down at you, wrecked and desperate.

“I wish I tasted you,” he groaned. “Next time, okay?”

You frantically nodded, unable to focus on anything but the bright, shining edge of your release.

He could see it, feel it in the squeeze of your soaked cunt and his vision blurred around the edges, his own want building at the base of his spine.

“You gonna come?”

You are. The sounds he’s making above you and the way he feels inside you and the scent and need rolling off his skin and those fucking pitch black eyes that have been in your dreams for months –

Slick dripped down the curve of your ass, your hips locking up underneath him and when you came with a silent cry, he groaned deep and loud, fucking you right through it.

“Tell me I can fucking come inside you. Say it,” he pleaded, fingers gripped on your chin to hold your gaze on his. His words punctuated by the snap of his hips, you nod your head.

“Do it,” you whined.

Your fingers threaded through his curls, it’s the tug that you give that does it. Coming harder than he had in his fucking life, he filled your tight cunt with thick ropes of his spend. Endless, smeared over the shaft of his thick cock as he continued to pump into you because he couldn’t stop, slipping out to drip onto the delicate sheets below.

“Christ,” he groaned, his jaw clenched as the veins in his neck strained above you, his hips stuttering. Slowing them into a languid roll against your own, his softening cock was still a thick, filling weight inside and when he looked down at you, you recognized the guilt that already flooded the brown depths.

You stared right back, holding him tight.

“Stay,” you murmured, holding him in place when he started to roll off of you.

You wanted to remember this. The hot press of his skin against yours, tacky and slick with sweat. The warm gust of his breath over your lips, the rapid beat of his pulse under his flushed neck. The wild curls that stuck damply along his hairline, the brush of his fingers as he tenderly thumbed at the curve of your jaw.

He swallowed and you could see the war in his eyes, something you recognized as being there from the start. His hand curled over the crown of your head, and you pressed a kiss to his throat.

“You can’t –” he started, eyes fluttering shut at the press of your mouth. “You can’t tell your mom about this, okay. We can’t say anything.”

We. You reveled in the sound of the word, your head nodding underneath him. A secret to share. Something for the two of you alone.

“I won’t,” you promised. “Just don’t leave, okay?”

You felt small and vulnerable asking, and when he looked down at you, a glimpse of the girl he imagined on that very first day tugged at his memory. Not the age he pictured of course, but the way you needed him.

The way he wanted you to need him all along.

His face nuzzled yours, his nose sliding across your cheek. A kiss pressed against the soft, youthful curve of your cheek that he had admired for months, he nodded with your sweet taste still lingering on his tongue.

“I won’t, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader

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