#truly time is such a mess in this series i LOVE it lol
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okay i'm probably getting ahead of myself but i'm SO excited for the clock keepers' trial bc i'm constantly puzzling over all the time fuckery in tbhk and specifically wondering about how all of the time travel seems to center around nene. and i've been wondering, is this just bc she's the heroine so we see most of the story through her eyes? I feel like that's possible, but we get a lot of perspectives that aren't hers and scenes where she's not there as well!! so i think maybe it is specific to nene! and if so, she might be in some hot water with this trial, on account of her extensive list of:
time crimes!
(even if she didn't really have any control over them lol, they still all revolve around her! and i don't know how understanding the clock keepers are about that sort of thing...)
so before the trail, let's revisit nene's time crimes! (and let me know if i missed any!)
time crime 1: meeting amane as a student after escaping the place between worlds. this is the first one, but perhaps also the one that could get her in the most trouble, as she straight up stole a key from the past and brought it to the present! who knows what butterfly effect that may have had!
time crime 2: transporting to the 1964 star festival and chatting with a little amane! unintentional as always, but she left an impression, and figured out how to get herself back to her own time. impressive time skills with worrying implications about the repercussions!
time crime 3: intentionally trying to change the timeline after meeting a 4-year-old tsukasa in the red house!
though, idk if this fits in with the theory, bc if nene gets in trouble with the timekeepers for this then kou should also be here in court right? but maybe they just couldn't find him lol. for his sake i hope that's the case...
...bc if this actually affected the timeline it was probably the biggest time wreckage of the series yet, so. prayer circle for kou if this gets brought up in court lmao
time crime 4: running into middle school tsukasa amidst some school festival time fuckery. really interesting that tsukasa doesn't seem surprised... like he knew he would find nene there... even more questions but that spiral is maybe for another time lol. once again it's not intentional on her part, but very much happens to (because of?) her specifically
bonus: not necessarily a time crime, but maybe one? at least something that furthers the connection between nene and time working strangely around her: mitsuba's picture of the red house doesn't develop until it's in her hands specifically. sure, this could be red house magic. but why wouldn't it have developed for mitsuba? it sorta seems to me like nene could be the thing that developed this picture from the past, but it's a less solid theory, as we haven't really seen anything else like this that we can compare it to (unless i'm forgetting something! please let me know if i am!)
i'm super excited for the trial bc i have a lot of questions about why time moves so strangely around nene, and maybe we'll get answers about that in the trial!
the other most exciting part, for me, about these things potentially being brought up in the trial, is that nene hasn't told hanako about talking with past versions of tsukasa. and as someone who eats up angst like it's candy, i cannot express how much i would love to see hanako finding out from a third party (the clock keepers) that tsukasa and nene, the two most significant people in his life, who he usually tries to keep separate, have been traipsing through time together and never got around to telling him about it. how would hanako, who almost never willingly gives up information about himself, react to finding out that nene got information about him from tsukasa in secret?
and right after she just told him she loves him ): how sad would that be? <3
(it’s honestly likely that none of this will come up with all the clock stuff going on, but it’s fun to think about!!)
#they're all my favorites and i want to see them be so so sad lmao#i do want them to be happy!! but also i want them to get emotionally crushed sometimes lol#truly time is such a mess in this series i LOVE it lol#I want the clock lore so bad too UGH there’s so much going on in this series it’s incredible#tbhk#jshk#tbhk 108#jshk 108#tbhk spoilers#jshk spoilers#honestly this doesn't really spoil much? but jic lol
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Shallan realizing the patterns of the plains in the chasms and being like “I can’t die now that I know too much!!” Like cool normal thing to say Shallan very chill spoken truly like someone who wants to live in general
#I love that she kind of brings out the young person in kaladon like he truly is having fun and messing around for the first time in the seri#es when they are in the chasms#kaladin* lol#lock this guy in a room with a traumatized 17 year old it will be good for him somehow I promise#stormlight archive#shallan davar
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colour me in: blurred | jjk (m)
Summary: Funny how things never stay the way they were. You navigate through a life without Jungkook while wading through buried memories – and realise that every path leads back to him.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader
➳ rating: 18+
➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating, partly college!au; angst, fluff, smut
➳ warnings: artist jkkkkk, still a birthday, a present, exhibition and artwork reveal!!, memories, flashbacks, talk about exes, talk about guilt, ...frat party reveal i mean whut, jung hoseok lol, flirting, sexual tension, “how i, jk, met your mother” lmao i’m kidding, alcohol, insecurities, mean people, an absolute mess, yearning, we love tae, deep convos, overthinking; explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, grinding, stripping, fondling, tiddie sucking, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, they’re dorks ??, lmao the dialogues :’’), they play a game, protected sex, drunk (consensual) sex, dirty talk, biting, sl*t mention, teasing, jk moaninnnng, partly rough sex, big dick jk, dom jk, aftercare, weird ass bets lol, i was blushing real hard writing the smut; “the ending” warning has become a constant too so :’)
➳ word count: 31.7k 🥲
➳ a/n: what a big damn sigh i left out after finishing this one !! ugh, guys, thank you so much for sticking with me and waiting for this one. i truly hope it’s worth the wait… and their story shall only get better. thank you for betaing my love @missgeniality <3 as always, do lemme know what you guys think !! 🎨🤍
➳ a/n2: keep in mind that every past tense scene is a flashback !! 😁
➳ listen to: the only exception by paramore | full collaborative playlist 🤍
SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST
MASTERLIST | WIPs
The very first day of September begins with a letter between your fingertips.
Or, perhaps not quite a letter — more a memory.
The pages of the diary aren’t older than two years, but they feel ancient when you skim them. A little dirty.
Maybe because the remembrances feel eons away, beginning in the middle of the second last year of college and ending sometime this spring. Mere months ago when cherry blossoms bloomed, along with a dozen other emotions.
You didn’t need to remember those days anymore, because you were gradually losing yourself in something and someone else. Not in love, not infatuated. Just distracted.
That is, until distraction became warmth.
Somewhere in the middle of this diary, you find words of a lost night. You don’t think of it too often; for a while, you felt too embarrassed and timid to reminisce.
Today, you can’t scan the memory, because it hurts.
This very entry is the worst of them all.
Contains all those damn hours in the gentle drizzle, followed by absolute heat, finishing off with glimmering lights in the sky and cold surfaces beneath you.
You don’t know all of it anymore.
But you know who tip-toed around you that night.
The frat party was never quite a frat party at all.
More a private thing hosted by some popular frat boy. It didn’t make much of a difference — half the campus was there, and the vibes were as fraternity as they could get.
You didn’t spend tonight under your fake starry ceiling as you usually would. This time, you sought an escape.
Honestly, everything was a get away these days, because you preferred running from reality rather than facing it; yet, you never quite landed where you wanted to be.
The hot party air was suffocating at first.
Cheap booze spilled into standard red cups, screeches accompanying the music. Despite the mind-numbing ambiance, you thought that’s where you belonged tonight.
With Eun’s concerned eyes on you round the clock, you kept the smile firmly plastered to your face. At times, you’d squint your eyes shut when the lack of lights tired you too much, but the unwavering noises kept you awake.
It was supposed to be a night you wouldn’t just flee your daily responsibilities and studies you weren’t sure you wanted, but from something else, too.
Someone else.
And that someone had dodged tonight’s party because of you. He hadn’t admitted it explicitly, but you knew he wasn’t one to miss such an event. And in some sense, you were relieved.
It was selfish of you. You felt awful, because he’d never proven to be anything but kind to you. But his absence forced at least an attempt to enjoy tonight. Knowing not too many faces around felt nice.
You weren’t particularly familiar with the frat boy community; you knew barely a handful of names in general. Like Eun’s. Jimin was supposed to be somewhere, too, because he told you he’d come. But you couldn’t see him anywhere.
Then, there was this Choi Yeonjun dude; the host. Very young, but already known around college. Also, senior year hottie Cha Eunwoo.
And ah.
There was another guy you could match a name to.
Anyone who hadn’t heard of him before probably didn’t do much else other than head straight to class and then straight back home.
But you’d seen him in serene libraries before, hiding behind thick art books. And in departments that he had nothing to do with in order to meet his friends; to converse with girls.
You remember that he hadn’t been as popular or noticeable a couple months ago — he shot up like fireworks.
And right now…
He was leaning against the white wall on the other side of the room. Calm and collected, confidently talking to some girl; letting her brush his cheek; closing his eyes with crinkles around them and a tilted smile.
As she reached up to his temples, her intentions seemed genuine. The smile she flashed and the way she spoke — perhaps she was still sober, locked in the illusion that she could actually capture whatever beat behind his chest.
You didn’t want to seem judgemental — but you knew the reputation he fostered.
And even now, he seemed to be enjoying this. Like a puppy being spoiled.
You would’ve watched a bit longer to find out how things would play out. It was an interesting scene; so transparent and clear. These two seemed to strive towards the same goal; it was written all over their faces.
But then, the sound of absolute crap infiltrated your ears; all of a sudden, shaking your world view.
“Hey!” you reflexively shouted.
The self-proclaimed DJ had spoken into the mic prior — apparently, he was replacing the originally invited song mixer. And he didn’t notice you until you waved.
You’d probably seen him before, but you couldn’t really name him.
Full pink lips, a full dark mane.
He grabbed the mic with long fingers — where had they gotten a mic from anyway? — and holy, his voice was deep. A little unfitting to his gentle, handsome features.
But god, was his choice terrible.
You lifted your hand a little higher, and he pointed at you, ready to speak some DJ-esque motivational words to you before you yelled, “Go back to the good stuff!”
A couple nods around you affirmed your suggestion, but the guy only granted you one slapdash shrug before he went back to vibing to atrocities. The people who had murmured approval a moment ago resumed to whatever they were doing with a sigh or a headshake.
But there was one voice who didn’t quiet back down — its rise in volume was stark and clear, and your eyes immediately ripped open when you heard Jungkook howl, “Tae, I told you to not play shit!”
When you looked at him, he was cupping his mouth. The girl next to him giggled, but one of Jungkook’s eyebrows was cocked, hands raised as if to say, “Am I always just talking to a wall?”
He disregarded the girl’s laughter and shot you a stare instead; matched the light smile you didn’t know had crept upon your face; raised one shoulder in what you assumed was an apology.
Amused, you lifted the corners of your lips a little further. The warning hadn’t moved Tae at all, but the scene had been, admittedly, fun to initiate and witness. Even though it lasted a mere thirty seconds.
Because a moment later, the girl caught Jungkook’s attention again; her finger moved his head by his chin, her face closer to his — you took a few steps back and walked away.
This wasn’t your territory; you were an uninvited observer who happened to temporarily catch the target’s attention. And the target was in the wild, in a beloved habitat, so all you could do was leave him basking in his joys.
There had to be an activity you could dote on, or a familiar face you could approach. Eun had left with an excuse you hadn’t heard, and now, she was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t take long for you to realise that your search for her would remain fruitless.
And just when you were cottoning to the idea of roaming the party alone, an unexpected form materialised next to you. Like a hallucination, sneakily.
His hand coolly sat inside his jeans pocket; yours lamely stuffing snacks into your mouth — the dichotomy was all too present. Your big eyes ogled at a friendly smile and a tiny nod. You covered your mouth, looking a little longer, and then dropped your gaze again.
Jeon Jungkook was probably just fetching a drink for his gorgeous date. You wouldn’t have to grant him much attention.
But when a minute passed and he still lingered around, possibly unable to choose a delicacy, you looked at him again — as if on cue, just the moment he opened his mouth to speak.
“I’m sorry for the music.”
He shook his hair to the side, leaning in with a radiant smile; you didn’t know why he felt guilty enough to approach you for such a thing, but you were ready to forgive him anyway. Admittedly, it was hard to deny his charms.
Your pupils moved in confusion; with raised shoulders and a cocked eyebrow, you asked, “Why are you sorry?”
“Taehyung,” Jungkook started, a thumb pointing behind him without breaking eye contact, “he’s my best friend.”
You’d forget Taehyung’s name the next morning again; the apology wasn’t necessary and you bet he knew. But your mouth still formed an ‘Ah’, head nodding just a little as you confirmed, “Well. That is a reason to apologise, I guess.”
Registering another nod and light chuckle, you averted your eyes politely and shifted them to the table.
You filled your palm with trail mix before your stare drifted across the room — Eun was still not in your periphery, but you guessed she’d find you soon enough.
Perhaps she was testing you. Getting you out of the shell you’d retorted into in the past days, fearing everything and nothing at once.
Tonight was the first breath of air you got; something about all happenings this summer suffocated you.
The man next to you, albeit still a stranger, seemed to want to provide further distraction.
Because when you whipped your head back into his direction, you found him munching on snacks — still here, smiling at you once more. Was he waiting for something?
“So,” you started; the moment you spoke, big eyes focused on you curiously. Wow. “Where did you leave your girl?”
His face fell. Not in the melancholic way, but you thought you still found insecurity and something not too pleasant in it. He puffed out air, looking over his shoulder and then back to you.
“Should still be where you saw us last. But the room got smaller by the minute,” he said. You understood — even a rich frat boy’s house fills up at some point. “And I’m not in the mood to go back.”
“Oh. Why?”
“She was uhm… saying things I didn’t agree with.”
“Like what?”
You bit your tongue the moment he laughed. Playfully, as though he knew you inside out, he nudged your shoulder, teasing, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You blinked slowly. “Nothing, really. You wouldn’t care about it.”
He was probably right.
So you digressed.
Hummed, though you were sure he couldn’t hear it; even in this big ass kitchen, the sound of the music reverberated.
You shuffled your feet a little, ready to move on and find your friend. Maybe learn a thing or two about her pals to integrate yourself. You still couldn’t quite say how a law student like Eun knew so many people at all.
Extroverts have it easy.
You reached to the back pocket of your jeans, fishing out your phone and unlocking the screen to give her a call.
Jungkook, still unmoving, had to be peeking, because he exclaimed an excited vocal, questioning, “What was that?”
A tattooed, lean finger pointed to your device, and you looked down, voicing a timid, “…My phone?”
“No,” he shook his head, suddenly shy for snooping. “Uhm. Your wallpaper.”
“Oh,” you looked down, eyes frozen on the dimming screen before they landed back on him. “Well, just… the night sky with some lyrics. Very basic stuff.”
“What lyrics?”
He seemed genuinely curious. It was sweet — but judging from how he’d left another girl in the other room just a moment ago, you couldn’t quite figure out what his intentions were.
So you pulled up your guard just a little, straightening your stance and covering your mind in some ice to cool it down.
And then, you answered, “You wouldn’t know them.”
But he shrugged, tilting his head, and challenged, “Try me.”
For a moment, you stared.
Then, you cleared your throat, exhaling a breath and lit up your phone again. As you held it into his face for him to read, you saw the sparkle in his eyes for the very first time — the beam of your phone allowed it for just a second as he read.
“You and I were bright, shooting through the sky daily.”
And then, he started nodding, sporting an impressed expression. His body movements were open — eager to engage in conversation, sincerity clear.
He simply said, “Good one.”
To which you squinted your eyes, stuffing your phone back. What did you take it out for again? Didn’t matter — it was locked again.
“Do you really know it or are you just acting like you do?” you asked.
Jungkook’s sudden laugh took you off guard — he wasn’t irritated but amused. His snicker was accompanied by tiny dimples and wrinkles around his huge eyes; the sound was lovely and pure.
And you nearly expected a delightful compliment before he clicked his tongue and said, “Damn. Stuck up, aren’t we?”
Well, fuck.
The way he eyed you, still enjoying your company with those rude words of his — was he the distraction you needed tonight?
He was amusing.
“Damn,” you said back.
“I do know The Neighbourhood,” he argued. He sounded calmer again; his voice dropped deeper. “I may look stupid, but I’m not.”
Internally, it made you laugh. Externally, you kept yourself at bay.
He didn’t look stupid at all, and his humour was on point. You bet that’s how he wrapped all the girls around his inked fingers.
Literally.
“I mean,” you said, unintentionally moving closer to him when someone approached the table. He smelled like soap and lotion. Looked at the vanishing distance in surprise. You moved to the side. “One doesn’t need to be stupid or smart to know a song.”
And suddenly, he chuckled again.
“What?” you asked.
“Goddamnit.”
“...What?”
“Nothing, just. You’re funny. Witty.”
You couldn’t say why he found it funny, but you felt charmed. Ugh… no. That’s how things started, you were sure.
So you were quick to state, “And you’re not my ty—”
Which was a blatant lie.
Jeon Jungkook was everybody’s type. A wandering deity with a Greek God’s body and a face carved in heaven. Splendid rizz game.
“I’m not hitting on you,” he quickly interrupted, right at your tail when you approached the door, “spare me the I have a boyfriend talk.”
You knew where this was going — you weren’t stupid either. Those subtle statements demanded a response, and idiotic enough and two red cups down, you said, “If I did, I wouldn’t be here.”
“What?”
“What what?”
“No, like,” he started. As you halted in your steps, right next to the couch and looking at him, he took a seat on the couch’s arm. “I fully expected you to give me the boyfriend lecture.”
You took a deep breath. No matter where you went, this… reality followed you.
Half frustrated, half tired of it, you shook your head again, looking into the depths of the cup you’d grabbed, and said, “I do not have a boyfriend.”
“Right.”
“Not quite at least.”
You kept adding things. Why?
The stored up misery escaped so easily now — but why with him?
He stared at you with actual attention in his eyes; God, he could feign it well. Even worse when he spoke and you heard the interest in his mild voice, “Quite?”
“I just do not, okay?”
The words didn’t come out rude. Hastily maybe, but not vexed.
But Jungkook’s expressions still changed. The curiosity from before faded bit by bit; realisation dawned on him that you were here for something else tonight and not… whatever you were fleeing from.
Maybe, you thought, he’d been sincere before. Actually socialising and expanding your casual exchanges.
But now that you’d closed the topic once and for all, he dropped the puppy gaze and transformed back into what you thought he was. A beloved presence on campus, always relaxed and always popular.
You saw his peer change in slow motion — baffled when he opened the path to his cocky self again.
And confident and with the tiniest of winks, he said, “Cool. So then… not to hit on you, but,” he lifted a hand, big and masculine, “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”
Jeon Jungkook and the liquor made the house look and feel twice its size.
After wandering around for over half an hour, you thought the hallways and rooms were expanding exponentially — until you passed the same plant you’d definitely seen a while ago. Some by now familiar faces were still roaming around the same place.
But the conversations you began kept shifting; time became relative. Subtle teases and little laughs kept you busy.
“By the way,” you asked. The lights were starting to burn into your eyes. Too neon and painful. “Are you gonna follow me all night?”
Jungkook tsk-ed, comical sass in his expression as he clarified, “I’m not following you, I’m literally walking next to you.” He tilted his head once, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “So rude.”
“Sorry.”
“Besides, you’re not necessarily doing what you were supposed to, either.”
Tired eyes blinked at him, an eyebrow cocking. For a moment, you found yourself lost, but the realisation that you were going to look for Eun dawned on you a mere second later.
In all honesty, you had walked past by her once.
She’d raised both eyebrows when she’d detected him, wearing a mirthful look, and you nodded as a fleeting greeting, but let him blabber on. Kept walking.
You didn’t tell him any of this, though.
“Yeah, well,” you crafted a careful excuse, vaguely gesturing across the badly lit, crowded living room, “easy to get lost here.”
He squinted, eyes flitting across the chattering bodies. You barely heard the hum, but you saw the shrug as he asked, “Is it really?”
“I mean… It might be easier for you since you know almost everyone here.”
“That’s not true.”
“Really?”
Another shrug; softer this time. Blooming lips curved into a pretty smile, and he nodded towards you. Let his eyes scan you head to toe before he finally said, “I don’t know you.”
Hm… True.
Seemed like he didn’t want to keep it that way.
You nodded with tightly pressed lips, averting your gaze and shifting it to the back of the room, out to the backyard. It was one of those semi-rich houses with French windows; you could see the cleanly cut grass and part of the treehouse from here.
“Anything you’d like to know, then?” you finally asked.
“Keep going.”
Jungkook gestured to the staircase in the hallway. You looked around; you guess you’d been blocking the entryway to it. Partygoers gave you a weird look.
You stirred, clearing the traffic jam, and navigated towards the staircase. Jungkook, hot on your trail, answered, “Uhm. Yeah, actually — be honest. Do you know The Neighbourhood from social media? TikTok and shit?”
“God, no,” you immediately defended, secretly outraged, “I’ve known and supported them since high school.”
“Oh.” Now that you were steering towards the first floor and away from the music, you could gradually register his words clearer. “Okay. What else?”
“What else? Like what other music? Uhm… Avatar: The Last Airbender soundtrack.”
He rolled his eyes, rocking a little as you approached the end of the staircase. People floated by you quickly, roaming the entire place.
“Come on,” he replied.
“What? It legitimately counts!”
You still felt the vibrations of the beat. It wasn’t so bad from here; kind of pleasant, fitting the rhythm of your conversation.
Or his laugh when he puffed out air, leading you down the hallway; a couple steps from here, you detected a small balcony. But as you neared the exit, you found it busy; two friends drinking, chatting the night away.
Jungkook halted, pressing against the wall with a glimpse to the ground. He rubbed his eyes; you understood. The hallway was lit a million times better than any room downstairs. Balm for your eyes.
“Alright,” he asked, looking up to you with an inhale, “another trivial question as we wait,” he tilted his head towards the door. “What’s a superpower you’d choose?”
You contemplated on suggesting a walk outside the house, but you knew why he’d possibly led you here — it was quieter. The crowd not as tense.
So instead of muttering the question, you relaxed your spinning head; your heavy eyelids fell a little as you said, “Oh, uh… let me think.” You swallowed, drifting your gaze to the ceiling; and eventually, you challenged, “Tell me yours first. And make it as useless as you can.”
For some odd reason, you were eager to hear his question.
You found yourself wondering about him and his little habits a lot.
Jungkook took a moment to ponder, and then declared with a miniscule hint of sarcasm, “Ah. Never spilling my drink. Knowing every dance move to every song.”
Maybe the alcohol was truly showing its effect, because you burst into simultaneous laughter that forced the strangers’ eyes upon you. From the balcony, they looked at you, chuckling just a little before they turned back.
You covered your mouth with the back of your hand, hearing him ask, “Alright, your turn. What’s your superpower choice? Uselessness is the key.”
“Okay, easy,” you said, shifting up the wall you’d slid down a bit, “I’d choose the superpower of persuasion. Would use it for the greater good, like––”
“That’s not a useless power—”
“––To convince everyone that The Last Airbender soundtrack deserved more recognition.”
“Okay. Way to make it as useless as possible.”
“Soundtrack of the century.”
“Okay. Sure, why not?”
Short pause, but never awkward.
In truth, you found a moment of respite from the chaos underneath your feet. The wall you leaned against was cold against your bare arms and calves, and for the first time tonight, you thought you could think.
Nevermind your foggy brain, and the way his company made reality blur.
You were enjoying yourself.
That is, until Jungkook spoke up again.
“Okay… one more thing, and you can fully tell me to fuck off if you don’t wanna tell.”
You turned to face him, eyes filled with intrigue, mustering a sole, “Hm?”
“You’re… escaping something tonight. Aren’t you?” He took a deep breath, words dangling between you. Your eyes widened ever so slightly, brief surprise flickering in them. “Do you want to vent?”
His probing was delicate, not overly curious. He was being careful, ready for rejection, and you appreciated it, no matter how caught off guard by his perceptive observation.
“What?” you still voiced.
“I don’t think that’s your type of environment, right? Nothing seems to catch your attention for long enough.” He paused again, meeting your gaze intently. He tumbled to the other side, pressing his back against the wall. “Except me. You’re still talking to me.”
There it was — you were sure it was.
That fleeting moment of vulnerability that passed over your face. Not just due to the circumstances but to everything that they evoked, too.
Jungkook wasn’t wrong, and his keen understanding of your inner life surprised you.
Slowly, you let out a soft laugh, just a little fragile as you admitted, “You’re right. I’m escaping the responsibilities of adult life and the upcoming doom of my last college year.”
Yeah… but beneath the surface, there was more.
You didn’t know whether he saw it; you knew you weren’t too drunk yet to decode expressions.
But he only nodded, offering a gentle smile. Told you, “Sometimes that shit does weigh us down. But isn’t it worth it? Don’t you like college?”
“I do like college,” you argued, “I just don’t like the thought of finishing it. Because then you’re deep in that… life thing. You probably understand, don’t you?”
“Yeah, no doubt. I just don’t think of it yet, because I want to like what I do.”
Want to like what I do.
Was that what you were doing to yourself? Making something miserable for yourself that could or could not have ended half as bad as you thought?
Hmm…
“That’s good,” you said.
“I mean,” Jungkook started again. “You’re still young. If you can’t be passionate about what you’re doing, you can look around for something better, you know? Like—”
His shoulder rose, and he clicked his tongue, “You don’t have to go with whatever’s forced upon you, no matter who you are.”
Your eyebrows kissed; you felt a sense of relief the moment the breeze blew through the open door. Two fresh inhales at once.
You were in for surprises all night, it seemed.
“Do you… know who I am?” you wondered; your voice was cautious, intent on not spilling too much.
Which wasn’t necessary after all.
“I told you I’m not stupid.”
Yet, he didn’t mention it. Didn’t care for it, either. It was kind of nice.
A corner of your lips tugged into a little smile, hands folding behind your back as you digressed, “Is there anything else you’d like to know, Jungkook?”
He huffed, shaking his head for a moment; folded his arms as he teased, “You didn’t even answer my question.” He bit the inside of his cheek; seemed amused. A little fascinated. “But okay. Something else then. Do you like games?”
Huh.
“Like what?”
“Mmmh. There’s spin the bottle,” he suggested, albeit immediately taking it back upon taking in your grimace. “Okay, no, but there’s also like… two truths, one lie?”
“Oh, uh—”
“We don’t have to play—”
“No, I…” You sighed, delivering a reassuring smile. He was truly so polite. “I was just thinking, but…”
He was waiting with those big eyes. Shaking the hair off his face with slightly parted lips. Those things — they felt like tiny habits; you wished you’d been sober enough to pinpoint all of them.
You gathered three ideas in your head, and after careful contemplation, you said, “Okay. I have shotgunned a beer in under ten seconds.” He looked impressed. Fun. “I snuck into a music festival without a ticket. And… I prank called an ex once.”
“Shotgunned a beer,” his answer came immediately, no trace of doubt, “I tried that once and it took me over fifteen seconds.”
“Well. You’re wrong, noob,” you answered, delighted by his mock annoyance, “I never called an ex to prank them. That’s disrespectful.”
For a second, he looked embarrassed — and then, he nodded, accompanied by, “And I respect that.”
He shifted against the wall, inhaling a breath with a hiss as he thought. His eyes travelled to the ceiling, and then to the people wandering about. No one was approaching the balcony, because you’d already patiently reserved your spot.
Jungkook squinted his eyes shut, and then released the lips he’d pressed together with a plop. Finally uttered as his fingers counted, “‘Kay uh, I have pulled an all-nighter for a major exam and still aced it. I have performed a belly flop off a diving board—”
“Those are so specific.”
“And, I’ve been part of a flash mob before.”
No clue, and no point in thinking about it. So you guessed, “I’ll say the flash mob one isn’t true. We’ve all pulled an all-nighter before, and the other one was too distinct.”
“Well damn,” Jungkook said, stretching the last word as though you’d solved a century-old riddle. “You’re right. You already know me so well.”
“I could do a quiz show on you, I’m sure.”
He laughed. Whenever he expected you to roll his eyes at him or to dismiss his foolish jokes, you joined his bullshit instead. Sweet.
The boys relaxing outside interrupted your game, finally flooding out. Apparently, there was a third you couldn’t see, and he flinched when you made your way out, almost bumping against you.
You didn’t know who it was, but he seemed to know Jungkook.
Flashed a gummy smile when his eyes moved back and forth between your conversation partner and you. His cheeks were red, but his stance and walk were still stable; high-tolerance drinker.
But a little, teasing “Enjoy yourself,” was still in the interaction as he passed you by.
Walking out into the summer night immediately evoked a sense of serenity. The warm breeze caressed your skin, wafting the scent of blooming flowers towards you. Under the moonlit sky, the world was alive — or at least, the one you were visiting right now.
It was a little louder here again, though the noises came from chatter and conversations rather than music.
From here, you had a better view at the neighbourhood; and tragically, at the people making out in that children’s treehouse. You laughed.
Leaning over the railing, you inhaled the wind, watching Jungkook follow suit before you said, “Okay, moving on — I’ve never sat on the roof of these… detached houses. I am not a procrastinator… And I’d really like some more of that cheap booze right now.”
He looked at you in disbelief, though charmed enough to chuckle and wonder, “You actually do?”
“That’s on you to find out.”
“I mean, maybe you are sick of wine and champagne.” Well… true. But when he saw bits of your expression fall, his laughter subsided a little, and he added without hesitation, “No, but you might actually mean that. I feel like those are all truths, but… I’ll go with the procrastination one.”
You stomped your feet in light excitement when he guessed wrong, glimmering eyes staring into starry ones. “Nope.”
“No?” His forehead wrinkled; and then, his eyes ripped open. “What, the roof bit?”
You nodded. He asked, “Oh? Wait, what?”
More than two decades, and you’d only seen these things in movies and TV shows. People sharing lunches and thoughts on roof tiles, soaking in the sun, building up to a big, character-developing moment.
No real life occurrence for you.
“Why does it surprise you?” you asked. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
“Yeah, I don’t know, I…” He leaned back, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I’m a country boy.” Interesting. The more you knew. He pointed to the sky. “More stars down there, so we used to do it a lot in the summer. And a friend of mine… she and I, we liked spending nights like this.”
You ignored the pause after the mention of his friend — you wouldn’t have noticed anyway if he hadn’t dropped his gaze to his hands.
“Oh… that sounds nice.”
A nod confirmed your statement, short-lived when he said, “Alright. One more.”
He turned towards you, placing his lower arm onto the railing. His smile was genuine; he looked beautiful like this. Messy hair blowing into his face, covering his eyes until it didn’t and you finally saw—
That.
This man had an entire night sky in his eyes, diamonds sprinkled all over.
So sincere. Maybe that’s what lured them all in; not just his charm.
“Okay,” you more mouthed than said.
“So,” he drew in a breath, licking his lips, “I’m a cat person. I’d rather drive than shotgun. And…”
Once more, he hesitated, bringing back his thinking face, and you used the moment to declare, “These are tough.”
He stalled. You waited; looking at him in anticipation until he smirked, leaning in to nudge your shoulder and utter the most outrageously riveting confession of the night.
Your heart stood still before he’d spoken the last syllable.
“I kinda wanna kiss you right now.”
A fever dream, wasn’t it?
You blanked. You would’ve been lying if you’d said you didn’t think about it tonight.
Obviously not a top priority, but it’d crossed your swaying mind, undoubtedly. Not that you knew too much about him — but he drew you in, like a hook-up with chemistry.
Because that’s what that night seemed to develop into.
All that your throat spit out was a little, “Damn—”
He held up a hand, and then pointed to his chest, innocently stating, “But that’s me. I won’t even touch you without consent.”
The balcony was rotating a little. Either the ground or you.
Probably you.
Because your mind was blurred, too; the air charged with tension. The witty banter and lighthearted remarks weren’t supposed to shift like this; where had all this appetite come from?
“So you’re… confessing one of your truths now?” you asked.
A playful smile tugged at your lips; you angled your head, waiting for a response.
His chest moved inwards, holding the breath before he choked it out in a laugh. Embarrassed with himself, he lifted a shoulder, saying no more than, “Well, shit.”
Ugh, the playful tone.
The thirst pooling in your stomach subsided a little when you saw his eyes sparkle like this. Images of his lips on yours faded just slowly as you found enough courage to tell him, “Not that easy to just snatch a kiss from me.”
A frisky challenge appeared in your eyes and he took it all in patiently as he inquired, “Okay… what would I need to do then?”
If he truly meant his little admission, were you going to let him dive into it? Allow the little adventure, swaying from your original plans for tonight?
Did you have any at all?
Your voice daring and just a teeny tiny bit mischievous, you proposed, “I’ll kiss you if I fail at guessing the lie. If not, then I won’t.”
A smirk danced on Jungkook’s lips as he leaned closer, a surge of excitement mingling with a touch of nerves. Quietly, he mused, “Fifty-fifty chance.”
“Right.”
“You could just…” His voice dropped the moment his eyes did, following the fingers that reached out to your arm but never touched you. “Walk away if it’s too weird.”
“Nah. I’m too invested now.” A grin spread across your voice, hiding the fog his expression elicited. “Kiss me when I lose. And I’m saying that, because I do feel like I’ll win.”
Stupid, usual, drunk blabber.
Too courageous. Too daring.
“I choose,” you tried to focus on your sentences, only mildly distracted by the bite of his lip, “drive rather than shotgun. You probably do like cats.”
And the moment you voiced your option, victorious crinkles formed around his eyes. Doom became crystal clear to you, though you couldn’t help but embrace it with open arms.
And the thought stirred something in you.
“Wrong. I like cats, but I have a dog and I love him to bits,” he remarked, triumphant and teasing.
Holy fuck, he was good at this.
This wasn’t just a game anymore.
He was too exhilarating, his effect too undeniable. And each of his words strengthened that desire in you, luring you in like a seductive melody, enticing you to surrender to its rhythm.
“It’s okay,” was what it entailed, “I know you don’t want to kiss me,” he backed away, and you released the breath, “so I won’t.”
The smirk stayed glued to his face. Unspoken words remained just that, and you let the night evolve, aware yet oblivious to how it’d unfold.
And as he leaned back again, his expression promising, you allowed the spark to keep dancing between you. Patient and curious when you let him know—
“Jeon Jungkook… that’s incredibly thoughtful of you.”
The letters on the paper barely make any sense.
You read through and over them, putting them together to syllables and relating them to the other words in the sentences.
You still remember rushing through your narrative. Half excited and half indignant, you jotted down all you could remember before you wouldn’t. The lines and curves of the alphabet are messy and nowhere near constant.
Exhausted and still feeling remnants of the inebriation, you didn’t have it in you to indulge in poetry or eloquent prose.
You remember it got worse as you proceeded. You remember your words became blurrier, incoherent, your thoughts jumping from one idea of the night to another.
To sentences he said, to things he did.
Only now, it has all escaped your memory — and it seems that your past self didn’t have any particular intention to let your older being recall it all.
Because in the middle of the page, your thoughts finish in a cliffhanger.
I think at the very end, it wasn’t the time we spent in the bedroom that messed me up. It was the goddamn roof.
And that’s it.
When you flip the page, another day has started. Several dates skipped, you talk about a cosy study session in a coffee shop and the faces you saw. About the waitress who praised your hair style and ended up chatting for half an hour.
Little things. You didn’t mention Jungkook again anymore until he joined your class and crept under your skin. Evoked all emotions you barely knew before — a pain in the ass but an introduction to… whatever has developed now.
An alternative to the reality you lived. Never out to fix you but to pull you out of your shell.
Maybe that’s why you ripped out all the pages. Behind the lost memories, you still know the humiliation you faced — but you don’t know about the little dialogues anymore. The things he said and how you perceived them.
Where are those words you scribbled down?
You look around your room. Your bed and desk are a mess; numerous objects scattered enough to make you uncomfortable. The sun is still high in the sky, but you know it’ll set eventually.
And by then, it’ll be too late.
Maybe you should stuff the diary back to the place you pulled it from. Maybe you should leave this smothering room; that spot on the bed where you sit, sunlight burning up your skin.
You hold your breath when your phone vibrates against your thigh, and let it out when your heart has calmed from the sudden intrusion.
The lit screen is unreadable against the sun; but when you lift it to your face, the message jumps into your face and attacks you like a wild animal.
Hoseok [6:23PM]: Work was slow today, but I’m not doing the night shift this time!!
Hoseok [6:23PM]: So we could grab dinner if you’d like?😁
A kind, genuine question shouldn’t grip your chest like this. The way your heart is leaking and your lungs emptying — when someone really cares for you, that shouldn’t happen.
But when you don’t care back just as much, it still does.
You remember feeling just like this a year ago; at the stupid party with its stupid music and then on the dumb, stupid roof.
An active dodging of one presence and a silent yearning for another.
It makes you sick.
The twisted feeling in your stomach lingers; and when you look at your diary again, you feel it everywhere. In your guts, in your chest, in your throat.
Something burns behind your eyes; tears are missing in action, but you think it’s your melting brain. On fire as you keep overthinking, fingers curling in, legs restless and urging you to stand.
Hoseok’s dinner dates aren’t what you crave, and you know it. Everyone knows it.
He, the cause of all misery, must, too.
And when the ache becomes too poignant, nearly unbearable, you lift yourself off the mattress. You flatten your shirt, pull up your jeans and grab a thin bolero just in case.
If you hurried, you could make it, right?
Rushing down the stairs, you shoot a message back to Hoseok; simple and quick. Hints of regret penetrate the back of your mind, but you shove them away to focus on the situation on hand.
You [6:25PM]: Ahhh I’m at an event today but… tomorrow? x
Your eyes dart to the top of the screen. Numbers sting more than they should; the date looks unreal today.
September 1st.
You’re stupid. And you will reprimand yourself for this later.
But… That's for you to worry about later.
Ripped pages and a fervent night still floating in your mind, you step into your car. It’s hot inside, considering you left it standing on the road after work instead of parking it in the garage.
It’s baffling how lazy heartbreak makes you. How tiny tasks leave a body immobile, forcing it to stick to the bare minimum.
You grip the wheel hard, only now realising how breathless the short way down rendered you. The prospect of seeing him again stirs your insides and your mind. Doesn’t let you start the engine just yet.
In the moments that you use to relax, you imagine how things might go.
You’d enter a climatised, sophisticated building. Walk past art that people worked hard on, admiring every stroke and colour. Would approach the place he invited you to with a wobbly body; ready for whatever pain he’d inflict on you.
But.
Pain.
Isn’t that what has kept you away for all those endless days since you escaped the dark alley?
Pressed against the cold wall, flush against him, hot lips parted and a hotter breath mingling with yours. Only to crush all you’d hoped for. He did this to you.
You begged. And he kept doing it to you.
Do you have the capacity to hurt again?
Your head moves to the side. Slowly peeking over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of the squared object, wrapped in silver; you don’t have the heart to look at it for too long.
No.
You’re stupid. And you will reprimand yourself for this later.
Perhaps it’s better to not allow such a later at all.
So you remove your trembling hands from the steering wheel. Look down to them; feel your body fall again. Whatever hope you’d gathered evaporates at the idea of the same, damn ache.
And it feels awful. So fucking awful.
The bare minimum. That’s what all of you wants you to do. With the energy gone, you want to become weightless. Want to press against the pain in your chest.
So you walk back in; lay down without attending dinner.
One last glance at your phone before you put it away. Still the damn first of September.
An hour later, notifications light up your phone, but you, pulled in by the same uneasy slumber, won’t see them anymore before the morning breaks in.
Those darn treacherous lips of his had lied to you.
He’d said he wasn’t hitting on you; wanted you to spare him all talk of boyfriends and affection.
Instead he kept talking — kept drinking with you.
Rendering you breathless when he pushed you against the wall of an empty room, shoving his tongue down your throat like it was all he ever knew how to do.
You remember giggles — an ongoing, addictive streak of childish laughter. Coming from his touches and silly words and from how it tickled when he kissed that sensitive spot on your neck.
With a sigh, you put a hand half on his jaw, half on his cheek. His features were sharp; in your drunken state, you wondered if you’d cut yourself if you ran your fingers across them fast enough.
But everything was foggy and insane; it was surprising enough that your legs weren’t giving in under his actions. And when your brain enabled a coherent conversation, you felt even prouder.
“Are we gonna stay here?” you asked.
It must have been the first time tonight that you could hear your own voice properly. The music sounding from downstairs was a lot dimmer here, muffled through the door.
Your head felt a sense of relief that he took very soon again; the tiny but sharp bite on your neck made you gasp in anticipation. He was doing whatever the fuck he wanted to, and you let him.
“I mean,” he whispered; his voice was low and raspy, and its effect shot straight under your skirt, “I can totally take you against the door.”
Which was menacing enough as it was. But the promise to take you at all left you wanting so much fucking more.
You rubbed your legs together as a heavy hand pushed against the small of your back. He lifted his head to look at you, teeth digging into his pink, lower lip. His eyes looked so damn thirsty that you felt your own tongue dry up.
As he stared at you in question, fingers digging into your back, you said, “Nah… door too cold and uncomfortable.”
“‘Kay,” his fingers snuck to the hem of your skirt, only pushing under the material for a brief moment before they retreated, “get to the bed then.”
Your body felt like a feather when he let you go.
As you obliged, taking languid steps to the mattress, your voice was still enthusiastic and you were still bubbly, “It’s so much calmer here.”
You sighed when you dropped onto the bed, not quite noticing that he didn’t deliver an answer. You didn’t have it in you to focus on much at all when you looked at him again — because he was locking the damn door.
And something about this little, harmless gesture was so devilishly sexy.
You looked at the ceiling; then closed your eyes. He was too much to bear; so you continued your zany ramble, “I usually get a headache at such dark and loud places.”
No answer. But you heard steps inching closer.
You had to shoot a glance.
And when you did, he was undoing a few buttons of his shirt, including the ones of his sleeves. Then whipped out his belt and threw it to the side haphazardly, grinning down at your awaiting body.
He was so hot.
“But not today,” you continued, “I was too distracted to get a headache today.”
“Mhmmm.”
The tired glimpses of him walking to you had your heart beating at an unreal rate. You knew he was just as drunk as you, but he was oddly calm for now, as opposed to you. Or maybe, he just acted that way.
When he suddenly dropped onto the bed, knees digging in and a torso and lips hovering above you, your breath hitched.
Fuck.
“Keep talking,” he ordered.
His smile was inviting and on purpose. Big eyes were half-lidded now, wanting and hankering. You were putty in his hands.
“What?” you mumbled.
“You said you were distracted.”
“I… I still am.”
“Yeah,” a smirk lifted his lips; his fingers freed your forehead off a few hair strands. In return, his bangs hung into your face. “Tell me about it.”
You gulped.
Your hands itched to grab him by his collar, but you felt so powerless that your digits didn’t move. A sole kiss wasn’t supposed to fuck you up like this, but you were already a hot mess.
And when you finally gathered a full thought, you said, “I don’t want to.”
“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow, letting his face drop a little more. “Why?”
“We’ve talked enough.”
“Fair enough,” he responded, laughing, closing his eyes as his breath fell against your shoulder.
The tip of his nose ran a trail along your neck and then down to your clavicles. You didn’t have much to say; mostly because you couldn’t grant language much attention anymore.
Not when he took the strap of your top between his teeth and started pulling it off your shoulder. Baring your skin as his soft voice questioned, “What do you wanna do, then?”
“Mmmmh,” you said, finally managing to sneak your palms onto his broad shoulders. “What can you do?”
Bit by bit, your exhaustion faded. The more he touched you, the more he lit your veins. You felt electrified; sleep was vanishing fast.
“I can do,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss onto the newly naked skin of your shoulder, “a lot.”
“Like what?”
“You know… I can just show you?” His voice sounded so pretty. So alluring and pleasant to listen to; you wanted it to talk you to sleep. “I dunno what you like, though.”
You could barely remember when exactly he’d bewitched you like this; but you didn’t have it in you to care. Only admitted, “I think I’ll like anything you do.”
He smiled. He had a confident laugh — probably knew how gorgeous he looked.
“We can find out. No worries.” His eyes shifted to your top, and then down to your skirt. “Just need to get all of this off first.”
“Mhmmm. The best part.”
The intimate atmosphere settled in the bedroom; strange to think that just a while ago you were standing on a balcony, playing a game. Seemingly harmless in theory, leading to a locked room in reality.
Which reminded you.
He was so eager to take off your clothes so quickly, but you didn’t consider him the type to rush things. Why the hell would you give in so fast then? Allow him that bit when you were sure that man liked to tease?
So your expressions changed when an idea formed in your mind. A mischievous glimmer flickered in your eyes when you proposed, “What if we played another game?”
And this seemed to grab his attention.
“I’m all ears.”
Your voice dropped to a husky whisper as you pushed yourself off the bed, waiting for him to sit up before you began outlining the rules, “Strip according to correct guesses. We take turns asking questions, and whenever one guesses correctly, the other removes a piece of clothing.”
The idea ignited a sense of thrill in you; perhaps he felt the same. He sat back against the headboard, curiosity lacing his adjective features, and you went ahead and kneeled next to him, hearing an intrigued, “Sounds easy enough, right?”
“Right. We can set boundaries, if you’d like, but—”
“I do trust you. It sounds… kinda fun.”
You exhaled relieved; more keen by the second. “Yeah. I wanted to say it sounds fun.”
Jungkook thought about it for another moment; then, he straightened his stance, exchanging a knowing glance, crossing his arms as he said, “Let the games begin, then.”
You jubilated.
With the air thick with beguilement, you crawled an inch closer until your knees hit his waist. He immediately put a hand on your bare knee, charging the atmosphere.
For a minute, time stood still, his touch warm and inviting. You’d delivered boldness, acting as a catalyst. Further tension brewed between you, simmering at the surface, ready to be acknowledged and explored some more.
“You were going to hook up with someone tonight,” you said. A statement, not a question.
He paused for a second, staring, slowly blinking at you. Hesitation lingered for a good while before he finally mumbled, “Maybe.”
You cocked an eyebrow.
Despite the fact that Jeon Jungkook was still a stranger, you’d clicked somehow — you liked to think that he’d had his focus fixated on you tonight. That you weren’t just any fling, at least not before the night ended.
So it was oddly relieving when he noticed your questioning gaze, clicking his tongue before he said, “Well, I thought it could happen… but I wasn’t really planning on it. Because anything’s possible at this place.”
You couldn’t bite back your curiosity, and spat immediately, “Are you hooking up with me, because you considered it possible? Were you gonna do it with just anyone? The girl downstairs—”
“Nah,” he was quick to counter, “not her.”
Right.
You believed him with a shrug, licking your lip; watched his gaze follow. He moved closer just a little; as his hazy doe eyes moved back to yours, you knew he was struggling as much as you.
So you fuelled the fire, suggesting, “So I’m special tonight, is my guess. You want me a little more than anyone else.”
He pushed forward — the sudden movement transported his lips so unbearably close to yours, and you flinched. He fumbled with something, and only when you peeked to the left, did you see him taking off a damn sock.
Then, he leaned back again, relaxed when he repeated the statement from earlier, “You’re escaping something tonight.”
Well damn. He didn’t need to go so hard right from the start.
You rolled your eyes, pushing his body further back. Putting a gap between him and you, you crossed your arms over your torso, gripping the hem of your top to slip it off swiftly.
Which seemed to baffle him. The dark red Fenty bra caught his attention — and his breath.
And all he could mutter was a weak, little, “Wow. Going all in.”
“Not yet,” you argued, shaking your head. “But I’m also just trying to encourage you to do the same.”
“Right…”
You cleared your throat, rubbing his dark grey, black shirt between your fingertips. “Your favourite colour is black.”
“Hmmm.” He thought for a moment. And then imitated his action from before, once more eliciting a gasp out of you when he took off the other sock. “One of my favourite colours, so I’ll take it.”
“You’re a coward for this.”
Fucking socks.
Laughing in mock, you ran a finger down his leg. To his knee and then up to his hip again. Only barely missing the bulge very slowly forming under the dark pants.
Breath escaped through his teeth; it seemed that he was a fan of such teasing, because his eyes sparkled.
And then, your brave mind formed this brilliant, easy yet effective idea.
You were already so far gone — taking it a step further wouldn’t be awkward at this point. So you shook your head in disbelief, looking at his feet and then at the fully clothed body.
And the moment after, you lifted your body and straddled him.
Hah.
There it was.
The restrained breath and the clenched fists. The suddenly open mouth and wide eyes; you could play his game, too.
Before he could speak, you sighed at the palpable beauty growing underneath you, remarking a sweet, “What now? Still gonna take it slow?”
“I… dunno,” he said, “make me do it differently.”
You moved your hips over his dick just a little. The movement was subtle but did what it needed to; the tiny moan he voiced was too fucking beautiful to regret and the bulge, while faint, was definitely there.
You loved this a little too much.
With a strained, nearly hoarse voice, he spoke, “You’re a 2000s hit girl. You uh— you don’t like the shit that comes out today.”
His speech kept breaking, and you felt beyond proud of it. If you managed to make Jeon Jungkook stutter even once today, you’d bestow a badass title upon yourself—
“Wrong,” you said with a confident smile; for now, he wasn’t getting what he needed. “I’m a Frankie Valli girl.”
“That’s so hot of you,” Jungkook said. He lifted a finger to your bra, hooking it into the space that connected both cups. Pulled a little. “But. Just fucking take something off, please?”
You grabbed his wrist, removing it from your body. “That’d be cheating.”
“I’ll take off my jeans if you do the same with your skirt…?”
Fuck.
If Jungkook hadn’t been so stubborn with his control, you knew you could’ve made him falter beneath you. Something about him suggested that he was very well able to become a begging mess.
But not today.
Today, you were giving in.
You wetted your lips, clenching your jaw, and then finally said, “...Alright.”
The process of pulling down your skirt was a hassle. You basically pushed your tits into his face as he attempted to kick off his jeans, constantly distracted and letting you know that he was.
He missed your touch as you threw your skirt aside and only breathed out in relief when you found your way back onto his lap.
It felt good, feeling his bare legs against your ass. To diminish the hurdle that his jeans were. To feel his erection pressing into your dampening panties, hard and firm and ego-boosting under you.
You bit back how amazing it felt, because you knew you’d be spilling praises shamelessly all too soon. Somehow, you were sure he’d make you do it — so for now, you kept the craze to yourself.
He, however, didn’t.
“My God,” he whispered. A warm palm brushed along your sides and across your back. Toyed with the hook of your wine red panties before it dropped to the curve of your ass. “You look so good. How did you know I liked this colour?”
Lifting the shoulder he pulled the strap down from, you joked, “I asked around campus.”
To which the roaming hand dug underneath your panties, pulling out a tiny moan as he left crescent moons in your flesh. Soon, his hand was gone again, and he nodded towards you, saying, “Look at you…”
“…What?”
“You’re a goddamn tease, and you don’t even need to think about it.” His hips lifted, pressing against your cunt. “You’re so fucking sexy… you know?”
You didn’t; but it wasn’t bad hearing it out loud. Feigning all poise, you answered, “Business student confidence.”
“Uh-huh. Some of y’all are so stuck up, but… you’re cool. Gotta be good to you tonight.”
You scoffed, affected by his length — were you truly ready to have him ram it into you? Because he felt… huge.
“You…” you began, choking on that word before swallowing the clump and starting anew. “You could just fuck me and leave.”
But he, adamant and eager to stick to his plan, shook his head immediately. Hair flew into his face as he answered, “Nah. I need to leave a good impression.”
What a statement.
Was there a doubt about it anyway? If he’d fucked you and left, you might’ve remembered, too.
But you weren’t going to decline the offer, so you simply challenged, “Do it.”
“Right. Fuck the stripping then.”
Jeon Jungkook was a beast ready to devour you. He showed early signs of his insatiability when he kissed you first — and now, he still kept proving his point when a harsh hand cupped one of your tits.
He didn’t unhook the lingerie just yet; instead, he tugged the material over your breasts, letting it settle it under them. The change in temperature made your nipples perk, and judging from how he looked at them, he noticed, too.
Because a second later, his mouth hung open; his breathing was stagnant and infuriatingly hot. Lustful and insane, he kept staring at the pebbles, rounding the tip of his finger around a nipple as he said, “You’re full of surprises.”
Your eyebrows furrowed — as far as you were aware, your desires lay in front of him like an open book.
“How so?” you asked.
“Just. Whenever I think you can’t get prettier—”
Slowly drawn to you, his eyelids dropped. Your hands grazed his naked torso until they reached his jaw, and you cupped his face the moment plush lips wrapped around your nub.
Sensitive.
A wet, burning hot tongue snuck its way through, the tip of it rounding your nipple. When you cracked your eyes open and looked down, inhaling the scent of his hair, his eyes were shut comfortably.
The arched upper lip looked pretty from here; his mouth wrapped around your tit so gorgeously. No matter what he was going to do with and to you tonight, you already knew he’d look stunning doing it.
And you, while driven by the sound he voiced against your breast and the thrown-back head, couldn’t help but feel self-aware. This was the first time you were seeing Jungkook naked; and the first time vice versa.
For a man who’d bared enough pretty women before, were you good enough? Or did he not care, drowning in desire and led by the hardness of his length?
Why were you always like this?
“I’m…” you breathed, tilting your head. “I’m a little insecure.”
Jungkook’s teeth captured your nipple ever-so-lightly, pulling just a bit — then, he sucked one more time before he let go with a plop. He shook the hair off his face, and then asked, “You? You don’t seem insecure at all.”
“That’s what you see,” you said, ignoring the way his breath hit the wetness on your tits. “I have weaknesses, too.”
“Oh… well. Like what?”
“Like. I’m insecure about my boobs.”
He shot a stare down. Analysed them, taking them in — probably the first time properly since he’d pulled that damn bra down. It worried you; was he still seeing something he liked?
Maybe.
Because confused, he wondered, “Why?”
You shrugged your shoulders. And his interest piqued, his voice changed, a little more inquisitive and sober now when he asked, “Has anyone ever said anything bad about them?”
“Well,” you took in the genuinity in his eyes. Starry and sincerely curious; his touch around your waist was gentle. “No.”
Your response didn’t seem to surprise him. Much like he didn’t expect any other answer; at least, that’s what the slow nod, accompanied by a stretched hum, suggested.
“Good,” he said, putting a hand under one of your tits, flush against your ribs, “because… you’re beautiful head to toe.”
This was a fling, you told yourself, but you moved farther and farther from that belief — especially with those praises he showered you in. And the click you’d previously felt, the budding connection…
It was a fling, but boosting your ego, you hoped he was affected by it, too.
What was superior to a hook-up you would remember? One where the other person exuded and demanded respect and trust?
“Thank you,” you told him. A daring finger travelled to his jaw, tracing the sharp line; you’d wanted to touch it all night, and now you couldn’t stop. “You’re pretty, too.”
Slowly, he pulled you closer, wet nipples touching his toned pecs until you were flush against him. Warm… he was so warm.
“Yeah?” he whispered.
You smelled the alcohol in his breath, only half as hypnotising and intoxicating as him. Breathing in sharply, your body shivered as you choked out a weak, “Yeah…”
And a moment later, he was kissing you.
Deeper this time, eating you whole. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your own rising; you didn’t need to see the goosebumps to know they were very much present.
This… he… felt too good.
He put his palm on the back of your head, messing up and knotting your hair and angled your face to dive in harder. You could barely breathe with him so close to you.
His torso pressed against you; it felt as though he was squishing your lungs. And this tongue of his — rolling around yours. Lips enclosed yours and made oxygen a foreign concept.
And he only pulled back when you whimpered unintentionally, nails deeper in his skin. As he looked at you, you were long out of it — and it amused him. Made him laugh as he asked, “What’s wrong?”
Nothing. You didn’t think anything of it felt even remotely wrong.
You answered, ��You’re just… such a good kisser.”
“Oh,” he voiced, suddenly all confident when you nodded hastily, still drunk and horny. “Oh?”
“I’m serious. How much practice have you had?”
Jungkook halted for a while. Not to think, you assumed — but his expressions changed. Like he hadn’t planned on gaining practice, and now your question was catching him off guard.
And after a while, he finally said, “Some.”
Not that you could dissect this odd behaviour of his. All you knew was that you wanted those lips back on you — so you led your hand to the nape of his neck, tugging him in as you plead, “I… wanna keep going.”
Spinning just a little, his eyes slid down from your gaze, already parting his mouth. But when the softness of your lips barely touched his, he reclined a little yet enough to dodge your kiss.
“Now wait,” he mumbled, changing back to a smirk. At this point you wondered whether he did it on full purpose. “If you really like it so much, I… can’t just give it to you so easily.”
What.
“Why?”
“Because you’re amazing to look at.” One of his tattooed fingers drifted to your chin and flicked it. “So hungry for more.”
“Jungkook—”
“And you’re an amazing kisser, too,” he said as smugly as an inebriated man could, delighted by your sudden pout, “so it’s not just hard for you.”
“Jungkook,” you emphasised, hissing in impatience, grinding against his erection, “take off that damn underwear.”
“Then guess something correctly about me.”
“Right.” You groaned in frustration, lifting the hand from the nape of his neck to his hair, pulling in slight irritation. With gritted teeth, you spat, “You want me. You want to fucking flip me around like some damn pancake. You want to fold me in half, don’t you?”
In truth, things you wanted. In theory, things you hoped he desired just as much.
“Want to pin my wrists to the bed and pound and fuck me into another universe until you’ve left a dent under me. To bruise my skin and leave scratches deep enough for me to feel tomorrow and… I fucking promise I can give you even more than that.”
Silence.
He stared at you, holding a breath. The sheer disbelief in his eyes satisfied you; the lack of words was soon made up by the twitching package underneath your folds.
Gulping and unblinking, he ogled at you like you’d handed Area51’s secrets to him; and then, half a minute later, he finally said, “Fucking hell.”
“Wha—”
“That was fucking unfair.”
This made you smile. For once, you were certain you had the same power over him as he did over you.
“C’mon,” you said, once more rolling your hips over his length. A delicious grunt left his lips. “Wanna know what you’re hiding in there.”
He puffed out a breath, kissing his teeth. “Something interesting. You might like it.”
“You’re…” You rolled your eyes, but immediately stopped. It made you dizzy. “So full of yourself.”
“I mean…”
“Underwear. Please.”
It took some begging and a throw of puppy eyes, but this time, he obliged. Chuckled a bit and then patted your thigh, signalling you to get off of him to ease the process.
And once you did, you waited. For ages, it seemed.
Because those veiny hands were as teasing as they were skilled. Pulled down the Calvins torturously slowly.
But when he did… oh, boy…
He was big. Incredibly so.
You felt your heart in your pussy.
“I’m not full of myself, by the way,” he said. “I’ll ask you again in fifteen-ish minutes. Tell me I was wrong.”
You can’t remember anymore, but you’re sure you sat there with your tongue out. Eyes big, drooling, leaning forwards with tits pressed between your arms. Your body was a mess, and he hadn’t done anything much to it yet.
You wanted him to. ASAP.
“Ah,” you voiced, only reluctantly ripping your gaze off that glorious cock to fixate it on his eyes. “So you do want to fuck me for real.”
“Baby,” he paused. Gave his dick a stroke as he pushed towards you, sneaking a hand to your waist. “I won’t leave a piece of your body intact.”
Chills everywhere. The current shot straight down to your dribbling cunt.
You breathed a singular, “Okay.”
And a moment later, you were in his grip.
The fingers previously wrapped around his shaft pressed against your back, throwing you onto the bed in one swift motion. He positioned himself immediately, dropping low to pull your legs apart and lick above your panties just once.
He was ruining them. Fuck.
And… were tongues always so wet? Or was that just you?
Because the panties stuck to your poor pussy like they were fusing with it. And the pad of his thumb suddenly dipping between your clothed folds didn’t help.
“Take them off!” you commanded, so breathy that it was high-key embarrassing.
Your frustration didn’t deter him in the slightest; if anything at all, you thought you saw that dangerous glimmer brighten in his eyes.
He nodded towards the garment, chin so close that it grazed your covered clit. You flinched, though distracted by the absolutely ruthless demand he uttered, “You do it.”
“Why?!”
His tone and expression were cheesy; you were so done with him. “Wanna see you struggle.”
What an ass.
Intentionally, you rolled your hip, shoving your damp pussy into his face before he backed away with a laugh. He allowed you a moment to pull back your legs and stretch them to the ceiling, stripping off the thin barrier once and for all.
It rolled along your legs, and you already knew you’d be having a gloriously horrible time fixing it and putting it on again.
Whatever.
You stored this thoughts for after Jeon Jungkook had railed you to the moon. All good.
He waited for you with his head propped up, fists digging into his cheeks playfully. The Joker–esque smile made you want to wipe it off his face, ideas clear in your head.
Or maybe it wasn’t the smile. Maybe you just wanted to sit on his face.
“Okay,” he said once your legs dropped again, sniffling once before he crawled closer. You wished you could’ve seen how his cock twitched, but he had it sandwiched between his body and the mattress. He gripped your thighs, and then said, “You’re already shaking.”
Your face warmed. You pushed your head into the pillow, shifting comfortably as you positioned your legs on each side of his head. Closing your eyes, you shrugged, shoving all visible timidity away.
“Felt good,” you said.
“I licked you just once. Over those pretty, little panties, too.”
Did he ever shut up?
“So what.” You moved further down the bed, breathing in when his fingers touched your waist, and ordered, “Give me more. Please.”
You heard a chuckle, again.
“Make a mess for me, ‘kay?”
You felt his presence closing in, his hunger evident in the way he licked his lips. Nimble fingers pushed his hair back, but it fell back into his face, teasing your clit along with his nose.
With a tantalising roll of his hips, he matched your desire, grinding into the bed. His perfect ass, a tapered waist and strong shoulders filled your view. Hands pushed your legs apart, driven by a clear purpose.
Your brain was functioning on its last cell — you couldn’t say much more than a hazy, “Not messy enough yet?”
“Far from it.”
Slowly, he kissed your inner thigh, travelling close to your knee and then up again. The pecks were soft, accompanied by the gentlest bites; never too rough. He blew wherever he nibbled; and then repeated the process.
His lips felt like the flutter of butterfly wings against your skin; so tender and sweet. Though you were sure the delicate manner wouldn’t last too long.
You sighed constantly.
“So far from it,” he repeated close to your pussy, brushing along the junction that connected your leg with the rest of your body. “You’ll be twisting soon, I promise you that.”
“Ah… huh—”
Senseless sounds escaped you as he kept his pace slow. Kitten licks soon circled your pussy before the tip of his tongue tasted the dripping arousal between your folds. He used the gesture to part them — that was all.
Because he soon moved to the bottom of your cunt, exhaling against the dampness. You attempted to force your eyes open, but never quite succeeded — you wanted to see him, but you wanted to feel him just a little more.
“All of you is so pretty to look at,” he praised, and you blinked slowly. “Like, genitals are whatever, right? But you’re so pretty.”
What the fuck was he even saying?
No matter.
You’d take the compliment.
“Thanks,” you said quietly, and he chuckled at your vulnerable voice.
You felt the snicker against you when he dropped his wide tongue and flattened it. Started at the bottom where he’d settled, collecting extra saliva that soon flowed down your pussy when he finally moved up.
The touch was expected, but you held your breath. He was soft yet firm against you, and so, so wet.
You pressed your lips into a line, muffling a moan when he stopped right below your clit. The base of his tongue kept applying pressure, and you literally felt your pussy clench.
He removed his mouth for a moment, patting your sides as he said, “Good. Stay like that for me.” You assumed he meant your lack of defiance; but you were on the edge, nearly closing your legs around his head. “Will make you see heaven, alright?”
“Or hell, really.”
His laughter was constant. You didn’t think you were that hilarious, but his humour aligned with yours. Perhaps, however, you were just still too inebriated and your humour cracked.
But Jungkook, you’d decided, was cool for now.
Especially when he repeated his action. He didn’t curl up or flick his tongue; just licked, never applied more pressure than necessary, because this fucking man knew it didn’t equal more intensity.
He looked up at some point, gauging your reaction, only letting his eyelids flutter shut when you delivered the sound he’d awaited. Jungkook was sure you felt the smile that emerged — it was hard to hide his pride.
To realise how your fast breathing, clutching of sheets and heavy rise and fall of tits was his doing.
You were too sweet, too awesome, too pretty to not feel proud.
And you were so responsive — he liked listening to your body.
Which you noticed immediately; he was taking in every movement and sound. Actually did. Responded to them, got faster when you reacted, slowed down when you whispered little Nos.
And then, reaching the peak of consent mountain, he asked, “Does this work for you?”
Your nod was immediate, words tumbling out, “Keep going.”
Only, he didn’t quite keep going as you expected — just as your orgasm built up, your exclamations intensifying, he stopped. Rendering you hyper-sensitive.
Nice tactic. Guess that’s what he wanted — to flood you with more craze until he was ready to give you what you needed.
Instead of continuation, his mouth formed a small ‘O’, just enough to enclose your clit. Wet, shiny lips wrapped around the nub and started sucking gently, the rhythm pleasant and constant.
Then, he held his mouth there, tongue licking your clit, like a massage. He was never harsh like you were used to — men had, to your discomfort, even used teeth on your clit before.
Not Jungkook, though.
He was as vocal as you, sending vibrations to your pussy, groaning and moaning expletives as he sweetly confirmed your comfort. All accompanied by dangerous gestures — a pinch of your folds, raising your clit, licking from side to side.
And a minute or two later, he pushed two fingers into you; so effortlessly, so smoothly as he said, “Holy fuck. No friction at all.”
Between the mess he’d predicted, you tittered.
“Are you… this hard, too?”
“God,” he breathed; you felt the shake of his head against your leaking sex, “I’m the hardest I’ve ever been.”
“As if.”
“What?”
The surprise in his voice was funny; filled you with confidence, because he seemed to mean it.
You answered, “You’re good at this. This talk thing and… everything.”
“Thanks. But I’m actually the hardest—” His fingers fucked into you once, interrupting his words to hear you moan, “I’ve ever been. Fuck.” More pumps, not hard or long, but pressing against your walnutty spot diligently. “Shit… come for me.”
And you did.
Hard.
Your legs trembled, your lower body drowning in chaos. Your movements were unsteady, but he held you down, aiding you through the progress until—
The snapped coil vanished and the earth-shaking, mind blowing orgasm subsided.
The stars you saw were real — he’d actually caused his very own Big Bang behind your eyes and created a new universe.
Holy fuck.
“Oh, holy fuck,” you repeated, sensitive as hell, brushing quivering fingers along wet thighs.
Jungkook’s cheek was pressed against your leg, and he kept moving to kiss your flesh, rubbing your outer thighs, massaging them gently. He was taking care of you thoroughly — he didn’t come to play for three minutes and then leave.
“Good?” you heard his voice ask.
“Good,” you confirmed, nodding slowly. You were still in your post-frenzy haze, and it truly felt like it would never leave. “Very. What now?”
“Gonna wait a couple seconds until you’re ready to move on. In the meantime,” he moved his body up along yours, leaving a kiss here and there, “wanna know what I had the pleasure to taste?”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you wrapped weak arms around his neck, pulling him in almost aggressively as his lips crashed against yours.
Half his body weight fell onto yours, but you didn’t care. Not with this strange, unfamiliar taste against your tongue, sucking it up eagerly. Or the cock, still rock hard, pressing against your stomach.
You wanted him so bad, it hurt. Everywhere.
As he parted, the touch of his hand contradicted the wild kiss — soft on your cheek, feeling your heat, his voice intriguing as he asked, “Ready then?”
“Mhm,” you voiced, “yes, please.”
One more butterfly kiss and an intrigued smile, and he moved away. The missing warmth left your body shivering, and you wrapped your arms around your body, pushing your tits together.
In comfort, your hand settled over your mounds, and you watched as he drew back the jeans half hanging off the bed. He fished out his wallet — from where you lay, you could make out a small murmur. Something about how he was lucky he didn’t lose it.
It made you smile.
And a moment later, he was sneaking back to you again, waving a condom between his fore and middle finger to show it to you. You couldn’t see the size description on it, but… you could imagine.
With his teeth, he ripped it open, moving towards you to replace your touch on your tits. A finger moved around the pebble, hardening it until it stood tall and perky enough for him to swoon.
But… that was also the very moment your drunk insanity hit the hardest.
Whatever triggered it, you still can barely think about it today.
Because a miniscule moment later, you complained, “One of my tits is bigger than the other.”
Which didn’t deter Jungkook; today, you wonder about it — back then, you barely registered his lack of care, his admiration for both sides as he said, “Oh yeah? Let’s see.”
“Promise you won’t find it weird once you notice.”
“I bet I barely will.”
He dropped low to kiss your flesh, fiddling with the nipples, but you pushed his shoulders away again. A confused expression danced across his features, and you shot back a timid stare as you worried, “No, I’m serious. It is strange.”
“No, it’s not. They’re perfectly gorgeous.”
“You… think?”
What a thing to be concerned about. You reached peak awkwardness that night, you’re sure — but he still stuck around.
“Mhmmm,” he voiced.
“Okay, but touch them lik—”
You screeched when he bit into your nub, planting you firmer against the bed. A final, oddly sexy order fell off his tongue, his teeth gritted when he said, “Enough. Shut up.”
And what better way to eliminate all your unspoken words than to start with a delicate brush of his mouth against the expanse of your neck?
There was something about the way his lips felt — taken care of, hydrated, pillowy soft and plush. Did every girl he touched feel that strange tingling sensation, the shiver down her spine?
As he explored the contours of your neck, pressing in, his hands wandered down. You closed your arms around him, pulling him closer, breathing a hushed, “Jungkook?”
No answer yet.
Instead, his fingers purposely grazed down your body before he wrapped them around the length poking your belly button. Distracted eyes met yours for a moment, as if in question, half-lidded when he started stroking the thick shaft.
The swollen lips parted, and you saw his tongue curling in briefly before it peeked out, wetting the dry, rosy pout. His head descended back to your neck, the kisses harder this time. Accompanied by damp smooches and a hot breath.
The tender nips sent waves of sensation through your body.
“Jungkook,” you murmured again.
He groaned against your skin, but looked up properly this time, still pumping himself harder than he already was as he hummed, “Hm?”
“Let me suck your dick,” you finally voiced. “I’ll fucking show you bits of your own medici—”
An innermost wish, lingering in the back of your mind the entire night. You wanted to return what he’d provided. A world-shattering, limb-numbing orgasm; all of him in your throat, thick and salty.
But when you attempted to sit up, he pushed you back again, dick-hand between your clavicles as he said, “Stay like this. You can use that sweet mouth of yours later.”
God. He made those cringey sex talks hot, too.
Your pulse quickened; intensifying a thousandfold when he lifted himself to his knees, looking down with shallow breaths to roll the rubber over his cock.
It twitched gorgeously. So curved, smooth; the colour of its tip mouthwatering.
You wanted him. You wanted him. You wanted him.
When he covered his palm in spit, spreading the saliva over his dick, you reached out. A silent offer to help, but it seemed he was finally done.
Because he grabbed your wrist momentarily, returning to his position over you and pushed one of your legs back. Angling it until your pussy spread for him.
Eyes closed, he came back for another messy kiss, and then said, “I’ll start slow… you tell me if it hurts, okay?”
Did it usually? You could imagine. With the package he carried around, you could truly imagine.
You nodded slowly, grabbing onto his shoulders, already breathless in anticipation.
“I will,” you promised.
“Okay.” He inhaled. Looked down between your bodies again, leading his cock to your entrance to poke it a couple times. Rubbing the tip between your folds. Then again, “Okay…”
The curve slid up to your clit and back down one more time, and a second later, finally—
The head slipped in slowly. Split you and turned the feeling of emptiness into something entirely else within a second.
You hissed, overwhelmed by the change in your body, and he immediately asked, “All good?”
“This is gonna be… you are so—”
A proud smile danced around his lips; they twitched in amusement, but he cleared his throat. Looked at you with a nod and assured again, “We’ll start slow. Don’t forget to speak up… yeah? Lemme know.”
“Mhmmm…”
Your mewls grew in pitch when he pushed further in, taking in your gasps until he was nearly sheathed inside you. And only when you realised he still had a bit to go, did you say, “Wait—”
“Hm? Why?”
He looked concerned and out of it, but listened immediately. The kissing eyebrows indicated genuine care; though the expression changed the moment you said, “I can’t breathe.”
Of all the reasons you’d told him to stop, that’s the last he expected. A laugh tumbled out, breathy and broken.
“See?” he said. “That’s why I didn’t want you to suck me off just yet. You look so done.”
“Shut up.”
He moved — shoved the dick in more. Fuck, you felt every ridge, despite the skin-thin condom. Felt him so deep, you could faint.
Your eyes rolled back, closing slowly as you heard him command, “Take a deep breath for me.”
You did.
“And breathe out.”
You did.
He closed the gap between your lips some more, bottoming out, and wiped the stray hair out of your heated face. His member jerked inside you, shifting, and it made your eyebrows twitch.
The whimper jumped out unintentionally; you felt self-conscious about it.
Not that he minded.
Quite the opposite.
In the heat of the moment, he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder, moving down to your tits as he muttered a single, “Fuuuck.”
“What happened?”
“That sound you just made,” he whispered. His breaths against your chest were tempting; the blood-filled cock inside you too still. “My God. So sweet… but so hot. Wanna ruin you so bad.”
“Can’t more than you already did, but… please still do—”
“Are you okay now?”
You gulped. You were. You were longing — he couldn’t see that in your eyes? In the tremble of your hands, laying on his back?
“I am,” you promised, “won’t be more prepared than I am now… Please.”
You held onto the broad back; he was so freaking warm. And so naked.
“So I can move?” he asked.
“Please. Fuck, please do.”
And when he did…
You thought you felt him poking your guts. You knew that anatomically, that was a thing of impossibility.
But he was huge. Heavy. A big fat cock pushing into you in missionary, a hand parting your legs more and pressing them into the mattress.
With your eyes rolled towards the back of your head, you dug your nails into his torso; a little more insane with each rhythmic, punctuated thrust.
He reached so far inside you, fucking seriously—
And those words he uttered. The little praises. The tiny, “You’re so fucking pretty.”
Hell…
The alcohol and his body heightened your senses — you couldn’t remember a single affair from your past as rapturous as this one.
The way he provided reprieve, sliding in and out of the slippery smooth entrance. The way his pelvis brushed along your engorged clit. The way he moved swiftly, controlled, applying pressure at the perfect spots…
For someone who could barely think, you registered so many bodily sensations, the little details, how he felt and made you feel. Lighting up your nerves.
Your elevated breathing made your words more incomprehensible when you asked, “Can you go a bit faster? Ple—”
“Wait.” Reaching up, he grabbed one of the two pillows, a hand sneaking under your ass. “Lift.” You did, allowing him to place the cushion under your butt with a grunt. “Hold onto me, baby.”
The new nickname triggered another rush of blood through your body; your muscles tensed when he dug in deeper. Propelled into you harder. Still rhythmic, not jackhammering into you yet, but clearly faster.
And it was enough for you to call out his name.
Which set off another cascade of pleasurable phenomena; gentle tingling to waves of desire. Breathing a foreign concept when he pulled your mouth apart with a thumb, settling his lips between yours.
Tongues played a new game, lips moving to your jaw, back to your mouth; kissing you hard before they dropped to your tits. Suckling at your nipples, toying with oversensitivity.
Pushing you close to the edge as he separated your pussy folds more, dragging every protruding vein of his cock along your aching, lubricated walls.
Jungkook, you had concluded, was a Monster with a capital M. When you moaned for the thousandth time, he glanced at you — and you swore he looked like he wanted to bury his claws into your flesh. To rip you apart.
And you let him.
As your bodies’ movements synchronised, endorphins eliciting unmatched euphoria, half his weight dropped onto yours. His scent engulfed you, and you wrapped your legs around him, up his waist until you whimpered and whined.
“I’m…” he started; he was so hot against you. Bodies covered in sweat. “I love that so much. Those… fucking sounds.”
“Kook,” you murmured — no clue where the nickname had emerged from. But he seemed to like it; buried his fingers in your hair. “Are you getting tired?”
“I’m okay.”
“Can I—”
“You’re okay — you don’t… I mean, you don’t need t— fuck—”
Broken words and a steady rhythm. He felt so fucking good. Sounded even better. Deep sometimes, desperate and high other times.
“I want to,” you said, vocalisation increasing. “Let me do something.”
“What do you wanna do?” he asked.
Okay, another attempt.
“Wanna suck your dick.” His pounding calmed down. You’d struck a nerve. “And… want to come. And—”
“And?”
“Wanna be your slut until you come, too.”
Wait. What?
Where did that come from?
Your face heated up, cheeks and neck burning. Oh, he was gonna laugh at you; after all the bickering tonight, you could imagine that he would—
“Oh, babe…” is what he, however, babbled; dizzy beyond measure.
You had a similar hurricane whirling in your head.
“What?” you wondered.
“Didn’t think I’d find you calling yourself that so hot.” He pushed into you once more. Dragged his cock out and then in again languidly. “My slut, huh?” And then, he was gone. Your pussy pulsated. “Get the fuck up.”
You tried.
Your limbs were wobbly, struggling on the soft surface. And he kneeled over you, heaving his golden chest in exhaustion. His dick hung off his body, the condom drenched; thighs muscular and firm as he watched you fight your own feeble legs.
“C’mon,” he then said, growing impatient.
He grabbed you by your elbow, wrapping his fingers around your arm and gently tugged you up to your knees until you were facing him. Your nipples skimmed his sculpted pecs, one of his palms suddenly under your jaw, even if only for a second.
The touch affected you. Like he wasn’t done or bored yet; like he wanted more.
But—
“You don’t happen to have another condom on you?” he whispered, freeing your shoulders off your hair. He did it a lot, playing with your tresses.
Now that you were sitting up, not wrecked by him inside out, your head cleared a little. But it spun, too — you noticed for the first time in a while how slowly you were sobering up, and how blurred the world still was.
He held you; but you were swaying.
So his words felt like a fever dream to you — a strange question amidst all the mess.
“What?” you said, placing your hands on his stomach for support. “I don’t… I didn’t plan on hooking up with anyone.”
Unlike him.
“Well…”
“But I’m on the pill.”
“Oh.” He blinked. Looked at you, hands wandering to your back. He moved closer, the inches fading between you; and incredibly close to your face, he said, “Then we could just go ahead raw. Actually feel each other, right…?”
He pecked the apple of your cheek, gently but menacingly. Danger hiding in plain sight, yet disguised as innocence.
You didn’t answer. Kept staring until he kissed your jaw. Closed your eyes.
“Hm?” he voiced in question, but you didn’t quite know what to say — agreeing would’ve been stupid, but you didn’t want to stop. Plus, you were drunk and stupid.
In hindsight, you would’ve declined anyway; but when he chuckled, shaking his head, you were still relieved. Happy when he said, “I’m kidding.” He moved away, searching his jeans again. They were on the floor now. “I wouldn’t do this to a first-time-fling.”
First time?
Not like you were going to meet again. You were almost fully certain tonight was an exception. Odds bringing you together and saving you from this temporary misery.
In a while, you’d start your new semester and drown in new worries. This party would mean nothing anymore.
“Yeah,” you said.
“I should have another.” He dug into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his wallet and yet another condom. How many did he store there? “Last one. We’re lucky.” Oh. Okay.
He ripped off the soaked rubber, crumpling it up and stuffing it in the other pocket of his jeans. You cringed in disgust and disbelief, but then you remembered that he was nearly as gone as you; he’d regret it tomorrow, but not yet.
As he placed the condom next to his body, you inched towards him, close to the edge of the bed and ready to devour him.
If you’d known him a little longer, indulging in those shenanigans for some time, the thought of him bringing not one but two condoms to this party would’ve stung.
Because Jungkook had obviously thought this through. Or, as he’d said, at least considered it a possibility.
But you were too drunk, and he too much of a stranger — all you knew was that you wanted, needed to suck his dick.
“But not for too long, okay?” Jungkook pleaded, stroking his length just once. Looking down where you moved like hunting your prey. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”
“But I’d love that.”
“Do not. I don’t want to.”
“Why?”
He hesitated, and then smiled, straight-forwardly admitting, “Because I’m not coming before you do.”
Jungkook, you’d noticed, didn’t care that you’d already experienced the high of your young life. You were sure you’d never feel such bombastic destruction anymore — but he still seemed to be opting for something far greater.
He truly did prioritise a partner’s pleasure. Left you envious of every one of his encounters before.
You pushed your hair to one side, positioning yourself and dropping low; his cock was way heavier in your palm when you touched it, only weightless when it jumped.
Your fingers grazed along a vein on the base of his shaft, your palm tickling his balls — he reacted.
“Alright,” you finally said before—
The low hum was melodious to your ears when you delivered a momentary kitten lick over his tip. And then, slowly, patiently, your tongue drifted up his shaft, just the sharp tip until you flattened it.
Your fingers gently snuck to his balls, barely touching as you kissed down his member and then repeated your actions; slow licks from bottom to top.
“That’s good,” Jungkook praised, stroking your ego, “really good, babe.”
Tingles down your spine. Beads of sweat on your forehead.
Jungkook’s hands pushed through your hair, collecting it at the nape of your neck to form a spontaneous ponytail. As the view became clearer to him, the volume of his voice grew — his groans and exclaims sounded beautiful.
And you kept focusing on him. On his reactions, on his body.
Opened your eyes and sought his gaze — pulling the ultimate trick out of your sleeve before you wrapped your mouth around the cock’s head.
And he liked it. He liked it very fucking much.
Enjoyed the slow pace, the way his dick disappeared in your mouth bit by bit until the gag reflex kicked in. You knew what you were doing; with that tongue swirling around, tracing his veins… hands teasing his balls, edging him to the max.
Eyes still on him, breathing through the nose, the tip of it touching his flimsy, trimmed hair.
Your tactic was doing wonders on him. Your enthusiasm was addictive.
And how could you not enjoy it? He was deliciously thick, big, promising. You wanted to swallow around him all night.
But just when he started choking, balls tightening impossibly, he pulled your head away.
His cock was shiny and drenched, much like your lips, drool spilling past them and to your chin.
“Gonna finish this,” he declared with a heavily falling chest, thumb wiping at the spit on your face, “so fucking done with you. Get on all fours for me?”
The contrast between his kind demands or actions and ruthless warnings was messing with you. Like he wanted to fuck you up, but never without consent.
Delightful. So damn delightful.
You listened immediately, turning until you faced the bed’s slat. Whoever this room belonged to, you were truly hoping they weren’t missing their bed. And you’d definitely need to take off the sheets later.
In this tiny moment, you felt bad.
But only until you heard him open the second foil, taking a couple moments to do whatever needed to proceed. You dropped half your body — partly, to allow a better view to your ass, and partly, because you were tired.
“‘Kay,” you then heard, soon feeling a touch along your spine. Tracing it down to the curve of your ass, moving closer and settling around your legs, pushing them together automatically. “So pretty.”
And this very position, just like that, allowed a hell of a lot more friction.
Because when he entered you again and resumed his strokes… your breathing stopped.
You bit your lip, balling up the sheets. Your jaw dropped, your body on fire; the way he gripped your hips, slowly pulling back before slapping his pelvis against your butt was…
Not bad, to say the least.
“Can you still think?” he asked; you weren’t quite sure he’d actually said it, though.
“Huh?”
Jungkook laughed; he sounded so sweet, so pure. So different from what he was doing, a lot more tender than his words, “Thought so.”
And definitely not as alluring as when he leaned in, wrapping an arm around your tits and another around your neck and pulled you up without a warning.
He pressed your back flush against his chest, and your arm flung back instinctively, around his head to draw him close. You didn’t know how he could muster so much strength, pounding into you in a position like this.
Upwards, constantly, consistently, keeping a hand on your neck as the other fell to your clit. You threw your head back; an open invitation to your shoulder and neck.
Like this, he didn’t reach as far inside you — but it was an utmost compliment to him that he was still large enough to affect you thoroughly. A Monster indeed.
His jabs were sharp, moving in and out unhindered; effortlessly. Only stopping a single time when his cock dropped out, and he immediately fell onto the mattress, stretching his legs in front of him and pulling you with him.
“Wait,” he breathed, helping you adjust and sit back on your throne. And this time, as you straddled him, shoving him inside you all the way, you felt him in your guts again. “Move. Come for me.”
Which wasn’t hard to do when he glued your body to his. Traced your cheek, nibbling at the earlobe, down to your jaw, down to your neck and shoulders.
His breath was hot against your flaming skin as you bounced up and down, uncontrolled moans mingling as he drew circles over your clit. Not too fast, not too slow, steady and skilled.
The peak of your pleasure was arriving when his sounds reached maximum intensity; he was close, too, endlessly moaning, chanting your name. Right into your ear, eyes shut tight, muffling his exclaims when he kissed under your ear or bit your shoulder.
“Fuck… fuckkk,” you cried out, muscles of your body contracting. “Close, Jungko—”
The build up was torture — it happened slow and fast at once, and you felt it clearly. It crept from your lower stomach to your pussy, and your walls clenched, your back arching and your body winding in his hold.
And then…
“My fucking god, you—” Jungkook began, irregularly breathing. He was losing it; so were you. “That’s it. That’s it… good. That’s a good girl, you—”
He spoke whatever. Talked you through the orgasm as it washed over.
Violently, hard.
Way worse — or better? — than the first one. Jeon Jungkook was unmatched; no one was going to fuck you this good again.
And a minute later, he followed up.
Let you fuck him, and then pistoned up into you when your body started giving up. And when his release finally occurred, you thought you were dreaming.
He sounded heavenly. His thighs were shaking; you wished you could've felt his hot seed, not separated by the thin condom.
But his voice… his breaths… the way he moved and held you.
They were worth it anyway.
A minute passed as you winded down; and after the mutual climax subsided, your bodies entered a state of deep relaxation and contentment. You felt it in the way his arms became limp, hands dropping to your legs.
Kisses lazy on your cheek. Strangely intimate.
You felt pleasantly fatigued, satisfaction flooding through your body. The internal rush of warmth radiated outwards; you could’ve stayed like this forever. So tired.
And a tiny bit later, he pulled out as he started softening inside you, pushing you forwards just a little to take off the condom, tie it up and throw it to the ground next to his jeans. Then, he pulled you back in.
For whatever reason.
Seeking warmth? Maybe.
You calmed down in his hold, and then said, “That was amazing.”
You felt the smile against your skin. He had let his face drop to your shoulder, and now spoke quietly and softly, “Because you were amazing. I reacted according to you all the time.”
“And I reacted according to you.”
Jungkook snickered. “We’re a good match, it seems, huh?”
You clicked your tongue, a hand on the arms around you. Slowly and carefully, you opened them, gently falling onto the mattress to get dressed. All of this was comfortable.
Too comfortable.
But you reminded yourself that he wasn’t more to you than a stranger temporarily turned party-friend. That’s what Jeon Jungkook would part from you as, too.
Why the fuck were you cuddling?
You looked back at him, eyes widening; and once you’d taken him in the near darkness, you laughed. Pointing at him with an amused, “You have lipstick all over your face.”
“Really?” He reached to his cheeks, wiping on the wrong side; you cackled a bit more. He nodded towards you. “Yours is very smeared, too.” Pause. An unblinking stare. “You look gorgeous.”
What? No.
Stranger, temporarily turned party-friend.
“Shit,” you cursed, “I have some in my bag, though. I guess we’ll need to take a look at a bathroom mirror anyway before we go downstairs.”
“Or upstairs.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Jungkook sighed. Shrugged his shoulders, lifting his arms to brush back his hair. The bicep flexed, and you forcefully averted your gaze from it. “Want me to do your make up?”
So lovely.
“Want me to do yours?” you said, legs flinging over the edge of the bed. You still felt a little weak. “You’d look very pretty in pink.”
He laughed; the way his head tilted was still so gorgeous. Movie-like.
“Maybe one day,” he said.
“Right. One day, yes?”
No.
You weren’t doing this to anyone like him. He was carefree, nice and enjoyed the little things in life. You weren’t going to be a burden to someone like him.
You didn’t speak on as you finally stood, trudging towards the bathroom belonging to this bedroom. As you collected your clothes, inspecting your ruined panties, he got up with a grunt, stating, “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”
And the next minute happened quietly.
He helped you clean yourself, helped you get dressed. Caught you when you oscillated, holding your hair when you drank the water from the tap, sobering up just barely.
After all he’d done to you, the moment was incredibly serene.
And you couldn’t help but think that the connection was certainly there; blissful if you could truly continue it. Clicking with someone wasn’t easy these days, but Jungkook made it seem easy.
Like he’d known you for long, knew you inside out. Like he’d been part of you in a previous life.
You saw his messages the moment you woke up.
Hours later, and you’re still staring at them.
Jungkook [7:43PM]: I’m sorry. I’ll always care about you… and i never wanted to cause you any pain
Jungkook [7:43PM]: just wanted to protect you from it
What a way he has to forgo heartache. Funny how it’s insanely present right now.
It doesn’t ease as you hear the desperation in his words. The regret and wish for an alternative reality. If last time wasn’t tattooed into your mind, you’d assume he wants you back.
Truly sucks to know a person well enough to hear their voice through typed text. It sucks, because when they’re not around anymore, their timbre is all that resonates in your head. All that’s left, really.
“Hey.”
The familiar baritone makes you flinch. He went to the tiny balcony a moment ago, inspecting the place, and you didn’t think he’d return already.
You were supposed to look around, too. The landlord left for a brief call, entrusted you with the empty rooms and unpolished parquet. You shouldn’t have wasted your time, you guess.
“What are you doing?” Taehyung asks.
You dip your eyes in innocence when you look at him. With the shrug of a shoulder and a slight pout of your lips, you say, “Nothing.”
“Right.”
His side-eye feels like a warning; fleeting, however, as he turns away.
Relieved, your expressions drop again, shoulders falling limp with a sigh. But you don’t quite expect him to move his attention back to you a moment later, a hand on his hip as he catches your descending mood.
The silent stare takes you in thoroughly, studying your face until your eyes drop to the floor. And then, he dares a single step forwards and asks, “Hey. Are you okay?”
Stupidly enough, you retort with another lie, “Yes. Why?”
“You look disheartened. Do you not like the place?”
The place?
It’s still the same space that you approved the moment you stepped in. The same walls you can imagine a life between, away from pain, towards independence.
The ceiling is still at the same height, and when you look out of the sealed windows, you still see the same main street, a building on the other side of it.
The world around you is perfectly fine. Earth still spins at the same pace.
You do still like the place.
It’s just your heart that’s fickle.
“I do,” you say, “no, I can totally imagine being here.” You shift to the other leg, pushing half your fingers into your back pockets. “Anywhere but home, I think.”
“Okay. Do you want to look around more?”
You shrug. “I mean. It’s mostly empty. Except for the kitchen.”
“Which is great!” Taehyung says; his voice echoes off the walls. His smile is contagious, and his enthusiasm about your move flatters you. “Kitchens are expensive as hell.”
“Yeah.”
“I like it here, too. I love Yoongi, but moving here was the best decision of this year.”
Right. You almost forgot that they used to be roommates just a couple months ago.
Back when you made the pact with Jungkook, wasn’t it?
He’d tell you about their bickering at their small dorm again and again. Refreshing, little stories. You wonder how Yoongi feels now, alone at his place — did he ever mention settling somewhere else?
Maybe Jungkook did. Maybe Yoongi will once he’s fully recovered.
“Doesn’t have anything to do with Eun, does it?” you ask, a tiny glimmer in your eyes that must be the trigger for his blushing cheeks.
“Listen,” he says; the back of his hand rubs his face, as if he could rid it of the rosy dust like that. “At least one of you needs to be able to talk to either of us without mentioning… this.”
You laugh.
He isn’t wrong. It has become a running joke in your group; every couple teases the other. Of course you haven’t heard much of it lately — you’re more a victim to silence and moral lectures.
Which you appreciate.
But the recurring thought of this little group splitting… isn’t too nice.
“In any case, I’m happy for you,” you let him know.
“Thanks. It's been nice.” Odd expression; creased eyebrows and guilt in his big eyes. “But anyways—”
“You can talk to me about it, you know?” you assure immediately. Taehyung can’t help but notice the change in your voice. You sound different than a few weeks ago. “It won’t hurt me to know that you guys are doing okay.”
Maturity? Or maybe calmness. No.
What is it that your voice is dipped in?
“I know,” Taehyung promises, “I just… I don’t want you to feel like I’m bragging. And it makes me uncomfortable that two of my friends are…”
Unable to bask in joy.
Jungkook taught you things that life couldn’t — you could say that calling that influence temporary makes you uncomfortable, too.
“I don’t think you’re bragging, Tae.” You sigh. You hate talking about these things; which is dumb, because you were never one to close off. “Things work out for some and don't for others. That’s fine.”
But he isn’t done. They’re never done.
For a while, you weren’t, either. And right now, you’re caught in the middle — not on the ground, not in the ether.
Just confused. Blank.
“But…” he argues, “they can work out for you, too, you know.”
“Tae—”
“Did you go to the exhibit yesterday?”
You knew he’d ask.
Someone was supposed to — obviously not your parents, still upset deep within. Your house has always been a constant source of obscurity; the white walls don’t deceive you anymore.
The darkness always changes, though steady in gloom, and as you escape the current one, you seek comfort in a friend and the outside world. Questions like these, however, are seemingly still going to haunt you wherever you go.
“I didn’t,” you admit.
He must know, because he doesn’t look surprised.
But the emotion that this very truth evokes in you, a toss-up between feeling relieved and regretting your choice — he does see that goddamn pain.
“Maybe you should?”
It’s a careful suggestion. You don’t know what to do with it, except to ask, “Why?”
“Because he’s still waiting for you.”
It’s cruel. How such words still knock all air out of your lungs.
How those images hunt you down, circling your mind until you overthink them to death, or until they lose their meaning. You hate the ruthlessness of this bitter feeling, and of the sting in your chest, and the longing that it consequently triggers.
The clump in your throat blocks your ability of speech; laces up your tongue. You feel the imminent burst of sentiments in your chest, but then immediately hold it back the way you’ve done the last few days.
You work past the clogged throat, and then say, “He was the one who let me go.”
Holding shit back can be learned; you know how to keep yourself at bay in front of Taehyung.
But.
It still hurts.
“Mistakes happen,” he defends, ever the loyal friend, “he just… makes a bit more of them every now and then.”
You throw a mocking smirk, looking away with a slow blink. Your feet are aching; they want to carry you away.
To him. Home. Wherever you find solace.
How fucking tragic.
“Hey,” Taehyung says, hastening towards you, a grip around your wrist to turn you back to him. “Jungkook, he… has his reasons. Twisted ones but yet. Talking about everything might make it all easier for you.”
Communication is key, blah blah blah.
Once upon a time, you used to believe the same thing. Soft spoken and naive; filled with fears but hoping for the best.
You wondered, “What’s it, really?”
“Trust and stuff.”
Trust.
Thinking about it, you’d always put some of it in Jungkook’s palms.
Like a month ago. Or when you asked him to play pretend. When you stormed into his dorm room every time, and when you met him first, locked in that empty room.
You don’t know how the warmth of that night changed into the playful hostility once the semester started. Maybe because his competent side was a lot more infuriating than his drunk, frat party persona.
Maybe because he annoyed you on purpose, throwing away all pleasantries and sweet, tender words you’d exchanged on the roof. Or maybe because of the embarrassment near the end of the night, embroidered in your brain.
But you’ve always trusted him, you think.
“When I met him,” you say, “I didn’t think I’d ever find myself in such a situation.”
“What situation?”
“…Feeling all that shit for him. Mourning that loss. Just,” your breathing falls in rhythm, and you blink away the dampness. “Craving him, you know?”
Taehyung silences.
He looks at you with empathy and reassurance; a little bit of relief, happy you’re talking to him at all after the numbness you drowned in. Or like he’s caught you feeling something that he knows Jungkook feels, too.
He smiles, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Reminiscing, amused by the memories he never quite found as bad; and then, he asks, “Really, though?”
“What?”
“You never thought you’d ever be trapped in this moment, yeah?”
“Why…?”
“Because—”
His laugh is soft; for a second, he reminds you of the man you transiently saw that very night. Operating the music, careless of every single occurrence around him.
“I could already tell, you know?” Taehyung says. A tiny, nostalgic smile tugs at his plump lips. You lower your head to the dusty floor again. “Back at the frat party.”
Could he?
Not even you could detect a permanent feeling. A connection yes, but you were so sure you’d stick to that one night — you didn’t let yourself think further than that. Did you?
Because you were intoxicated by the booze and the summer air. The conversations and the touches. Jungkook’s scent.
Exclaiming his name while today, you can barely vocalise it.
“I was thinking about the frat party today, too,” you tell him.
He nods, glancing past you. Probably looking for the landlord who’s still not back.
And then, he continues, “When I saw you guys talking on the roof, I knew. I could just tell.”
“We weren’t in love or anything, Tae.”
“I know you weren’t. I mean, you didn’t look like you were, either. But you did look like you bonded… and that’s rare, you know? For people to still share that link after so long.”
“…Don’t know.”
Your stoic ignorance is frustrating. And new.
You’re not one to hide your emotions. Usually open with your happiness and open with your grief.
“Go today,” Taehyung suggests again, puffing out air, “to the exhibition, I mean. Play around with your choices, okay?” Silence. A press of your lips. You don’t answer, and he can’t read your mind; so he doesn’t prod, and asks instead, “Why were you thinking about the party?”
Easy: because, distraction.
“I was cleaning,” you answer, “clearing my head. Found an old diary while dusting.”
Which was a pure coincidence. It wasn’t supposed to fall into your hands, and you weren’t supposed to open it. Seek out the pages you subconsciously still knew were there.
Why were you cleaning your desk anyway? It was flawlessly organised, dusted by a trusted staff.
It’s crazy.
Insane how even in the tidiest corners of your room, he’s left a mess.
“Okay,” Taehyung simply says, “anyway. Please think about going tonight. And on another note… do think about this place, too. I think it could do you good. And it’ll be nice to have a friend nearby.”
And that’s it. You leave the building with a thankful nod and a genuine smile.
Only to fall into deep contemplation when you arrive home.
Could tonight change something? The way the party did last year?
What exactly did the two of you say to each other? Does Taehyung know it all? Does Jungkook? Perhaps you do, too — maybe you need to dig far enough.
Brooding on the corner of your bed, you shake your head. Get to your feet, scouring your desk, reaching to the very back of every drawer and scanning through every file. Notebook. Diary.
And you don’t stop until minutes have passed, ripped pages falling out of a second semester course book. Its edges are worn out, carried in your bags a hundred times.
But the pages are intact. As slightly yellow as the other ones. You knew you didn’t throw them away.
There it all is; less descriptions, more dialogue — you were tired out, yet kept going.
There, the narrative continues.
Because on that goddamn roof, I think… that Jeon Jungkook truly saw me. You know, it’s been so long since someone did.
The light air brought relief from the day’s heat.
You couldn’t remember how he’d persuaded you to climb up to the attic and then out of its window, leading to a platform to sit on. But as you revelled in the ambient sounds of chatter and distant laughter, you couldn’t complain.
And Jungkook’s conversations kept lulling you into a state of tranquillity. You had no clue how he did it.
“I can do a handstand, and I can show you,” he said; why you’d slipped into talks about athletics, you can’t recall.
“No. You’ll die.”
He laughed, his smirk ever-present. “Would you care?”
You eye-rolled at him, instantly regretting it when the world started spinning again. The effects of the booze were dwindling, but you weren’t quite there yet. Your head and eyes still felt heavy, your tongue still loose.
Maybe he registered your drowsiness, because he soon suggested, “You should go home.”
“I’m okay,” you, however, argued. The night was too serene. “I’m sobering up a little.”
“You look tired, though.”
His words triggered a reflex, and you yawned on cue — unable to hide your fatigue, you admitted, “I am.”
Jungkook drifted closer, arms touching; his voice was light as the wind, and his suggestion as teasing as it was soft, “Wanna sleep on my shoulder?”
“Nah,” you declined, playfully pushing at him, “we’re not that close.”
“We did fuck each other’s brains out just now, though.”
A pleasant reminder, but wholly unnecessary. You doubted you’d ever forget the insanity that transpired downstairs — and once again, you felt incredibly sorry to Yeonjun for ruining one of his bedrooms.
You shuddered.
“We… hooked up,” you argued, muffling a laugh when he scoffed.
“Alright. Whatever.”
His syllables carried a chuckle; contagious and captivating. Mixed with your own, it dragged into the next seconds, lingering as you enjoyed the breeze. Rocking back and forth, gazing up into the vast darkness.
You barely saw the stars in the city and on campus. That’s why you liked those outskirt houses; the sky was clearer here, not disturbed by city lights and their reflection.
And for as long as you were going to remain here, you decided to keep your eyes glued to the glimmer above. Watched it with a melodious hum. They twinkled one after another, like winking, whispering confessions to you from the cloudless, infinite expanse.
Pretty and soft; painting a full picture along with the sliver of the moon you saw. A celestial, silver beacon.
You smiled.
“You’re enjoying yourself,” Jungkook said.
Your instrumental died, though one last sound indicated a question, “Hm?”
“You’re liking it here.”
“Ah. Yeah.” Your eyes narrowed in wonder, head on your shoulder. “Why would I not?”
“No, I just mean…” He moved his feet on the platform, shoving them forwards. “You looked different when you got here. Not too happy about tonight.”
“Oh. Right… I’m sorry if it dampened the mood.”
But he shuffled on his spot, wrapping an arm around one angled leg, dropping the other and fully turned towards you. Guaranteed, “No, it’s okay. You were perfectly fine throughout the entire night.”
With him.
“I did have fun,” you said.
“Did seem like it.”
You delivered a hazy nod, blinking your tired eyes.
Even today, you remember the silence that descended, and remember how comfortable you deemed it.
Despite the haven that the roof had become in record time, the retreat couldn’t keep your mind off the bustling world anymore. Thinking about it, even the existence you’d bolted from resided at a suburbian, quiet place like this.
He swam in money, just like you, and you’d seen a similar greenery and heard a similar quietude as you were here. Yet, being with him didn’t compare to being with Jungkook.
Why?
Maybe because that friend understood your lifestyle too well, but not your emotions.
You clicked your tongue, peeking at Jungkook. He lifted his head at the sound, big eyes questioning; and after a moment of contemplation, you finally said, “There’s this guy.”
His ears perked up.
He sat straight, never questioning where it came from; instead, he listened as you spoke, “He and I hooked up during freshman year and then not too long ago. We met through friends, and he’s just… you know, an amazing person and all. Takes care of me and texts me and… keeps asking how I’m doing.”
Fingers of your hands locked, arms firmly enclosing your bare legs.
“He takes my ideas and thoughts and tries to make them more optimistic. Or attempts to actively talk about my flaws. To fix them.” You met Jungkook’s eyes, tender and attentive. “He gives me advice all the time.”
“But?” Jungkook asked. “I think there is a but.”
“Well…” You sucked air through your teeth. “He said he wants to be with me. And I told him that I don’t.”
“Oof…” He grimaced before he hissed, voicing deep empathy for a man he didn’t know. “But why?”
Jungkook was a stranger, but you talked like a soft, hushed waterfall. He emanated a sense of trust; some magic that permeated the air.
You felt comfortable.
“I tried, it’s just. I might sound ungrateful, but I think I’d… rather like someone who wants to love and appreciate me instead of trying to fix me all the time,” you confessed.
There was a hint of annoyance in your voice and you hated yourself for it. The man in question was heavenly — just not ideal for you.
“He is a sweetheart. Keeps buying me gifts and all, but… I think I’m a construction site to him. And that,” you snickered, sporting what you were sure was a sombre expression, “keeps reminding me that I actually am.”
Jungkook paused. You didn’t blame him — it was a sudden revelation, and his possibly still tipsy brain couldn’t quite fathom his thoughts into a response just yet.
He smacked his lips; you’d seen him do it a couple times today. Bangs flew into his face, his eyes suddenly sentimental.
And then he told you, “I understand.” He thought again, looking past you. “I wouldn’t call it ungrateful. I mean, you are thankful for him as a person, yeah? Your personalities and ideologies don’t have to align, y’know? That shouldn’t be an expectation.”
“…Yeah.”
Time ran differently now. The movements you saw in the garden were in slow-motion, but in this dreamscape that the roof was, where you laid out every damn word haunting your mind, the world suspended in time.
It was solacing in some way. Your heart was still clouded, but… you didn’t feel horrible anymore.
“So that’s what you were escaping tonight. Still are,” Jungkook then concluded.
Your mind suddenly raced.
Back to the first words you exchanged with Jungkook; back to the reason for you coming here tonight; back to how delighted your parents seemed when you first mentioned Jung Hoseok.
When Hoseok had stepped over your threshold for the first and only time, back during freshman year, they’d enjoyed the sole glimpse of him. Had adored that he’d brought you a silver bracelet, because it showcased wealth.
If you’d let them, they'd have interviewed him — nevermind that he was just a rare hook up and you barely even knew what his parents did.
Lawyers, weren’t they? He’d mentioned lawyers at some point, you thought.
You’d kept it lowkey; away from the campus. You hadn’t imagined he’d come back this year, whirling your thoughts, lost in freshman nostalgia.
To you of all people; and he knew so many. Which is why you didn’t mention his name to Jungkook — judging his and Hoseok’s popularity, they probably knew each other.
“I just feel… terrible,” you eventually said, “because I know he likes me, and I can’t quite say why. We just kept meeting over the years, so—”
“You don’t owe anyone anything,” Jungkook interrupted. “Like, I’d feel bad, too, but… if the reciprocation isn’t there, it’s not there. And it sucks but that happens sometimes. Things don’t always work out.”
“Yeah. It’s worse when they could, but don’t.”
Jungkook’s demeanour changed. A fog of melancholy settled in his gaze, brief but impactful. If you’d been fully clear-headed, you might’ve registered the slight flinch.
For a second, he didn’t expand on his thoughts, voicing a simple, “Mhm.”
But as the air thinned, affecting his chest and his mind, he couldn’t help but think back to how life had developed for him. From when he was a child and had spotted broken relationships to shattering his own.
Under easier circumstances, love could work. Why had he always been a witness to it crumbling?
“Jungkook.”
Your voice broke his trance. You watched him drift more and more into it, and now that he was awake again, his muscles relaxed. He smiled a little, and then asked, “I can vent if you did, right?”
Eyebrows flashing up, you stared in silence; you didn’t expect this.
“Yeah. Of course,” you said, legs unconsciously lowering towards his. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. Pressed his lips into a thin line; your eyes fell to his mole, and then back to his starry pupils.
Half distraught, half calm — much like you — he began, “One reason why I left that girl downstairs standing was because… she was looking for the first best thing tonight.”
“…What do you mean?”
God, for someone who’d been cheerful all night, he looked incredibly downbeat right now. You felt sorry without knowledge of the context.
He shifted.
“I separated from my ex a while ago. That girl,” he nodded towards the window you’d climbed through, into her general direction, “she knew. And she wanted to use my,” he made air quotes, “loneliness to have fun.”
“That’s… terrible. I’m sorry about your ex.”
Jungkook kissed his teeth, shaking his head, “Nah… we parted on good terms. I just regret that we let the end of it all drag for so long.”
“Hmm,” you hummed. You wrapped your arms tighter around your legs. “Do you miss her?”
Prolonged silence later, you darted your head in his direction; he was squinting his eyes in thought. And then, he inhaled the summer air, and said, “Sometimes.” Pause. Then, “Sometimes I miss feeling like I’m… enough for someone.”
Enough for someone. Right for someone.
Jungkook wasn’t missing her. He was missing being loved.
“Time heals all wounds,” you said, nudging his chest, “etcetera.”
With a rub over his pecs, he tugged his lips to a crooked smile, promising you sincerely, “That goes for you, too.”
The exchanged beams introduced another break in conversation.
There’d been a dozen of those pauses today, but none of them had felt out of place. In fact, you felt at peace. Tonight was a respite from the demands of everyday life, because pain faded away.
The still bubble of comfort around you felt like a sanctuary; you appreciated the simplicity of the present.
You thought, there was something about the air. And the stars. And all those scents.
Fitting to the softness of his voice when he eventually spoke, “Hey… You were humming a song just now. When you were looking up?”
“Oh, uh…” You thought about it, rewinding time; he was right. You remembered the melody. “Maroon 5, was it?”
“I think so. How does it go again?”
“Uhm…” Putting you on the spot like this, you forgot every word of the song. You mumbled the melody, du-du-du-ing your way to the first verse, and then sang, “Beauty queen of only eighteen, she—”
His face lit up.
“Had some trouble with herse— yeah!” His finger conducted the two of you through the song before he wiggled it. “Yes, but there’s that part. The ugh— bridge? It’s my favourite part.”
“Uhm, wait.” Fast forwarding, you sang your way through the chorus, close to the bridge until it dawned on you. “Out in the corner in the… broken smile— ah, yeah. I know where you hide, alone in your car.”
Jungkook got into gear, sitting up properly, nearly shifting off the platform. Instinctively, you grabbed his wrist, but he was too into his narrative to acknowledge it, “Yes! Ah, I love that part so much. My mom used to sing it with me when I was in elementary school.”
He was so fucking sweet.
Contrary to every touch he’d delivered today, he was like a puppy. Forlorn and pure and kind.
“That’s so nice,” you said, nodding when he did, watching as he prepared his vocal cords.
“Know all of the things that make you who are— that’s what it was, yeah? I know that goodbyes—”
And then you broke into a duet, falling into a rhythm… catching strangers’ attention wandering around the house’s garden. You weren’t loud enough to disturb the party, but you did see a flash of smile here and there towards you.
Your singing and laughter grew in pitch; you started the last line but never finished it. Instead, you quieted down, hearing his timbre indulge in the song; his eyes were closed and his head tilted. An incomparable spell in his voice.
“—Catch her everytime she… falls.”
Omitting Adam Levine’s soft Yeahs, Jungkook replaced them with hums, and for the teeny tiniest of moments, your heart jumped.
Radiant warmth spread in your lungs. It surrounded your beating organ and tied your throat, and against all you’d expected today, you wondered—
Did temporary, fleeting party-hook-up crushes exist?
As he finished, leaving out the rest of the song, you told him, “You sing well.”
An understatement, but he took it anyway. Blushed a bit as he said, “Thank you.” And then, “Why this song of all you might know?”
Why this song?
You didn’t know. Because you’d grown up with it. Because every second of it, every beat, every melancholic word about hopeful love resonated with you.
“Because,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. A weak smile took over your features. “She shall be loved? Everyone shall be loved.”
Jungkook deadpanned at you. Glassy-eyed. For a couple heartbeats, he blinked at you, and then he broke into a chuckle.
You puffed out a breath; the desire to end the night vanished bit by bit.
That was, until another doom crawled around the corner.
Whenever a day passes flawlessly, misery is close, and this time, it arrived in the form of an older, equally drunk male friend of Jungkook’s.
It was the guy who’d DJ’d prior that night; the one with the deep velvety voice, ogling up at you with a hand in his pocket and a cup in his hand. He made you wonder where your friend was.
Had Eun left any messages? Perhaps it was you standing her up now; you hadn’t checked the device in a while.
From the garden, the dude — Taehyung, was it? — squinted up into the sky, yelling over the sounds, “Aren’t you the girl from before?” He pointed between Jungkook and you. “What are you two doing up there?”
You felt enthusiasm in your veins. Rapture, leaving your nerves alight. Despite all the sentimental talk, you remembered again that your filter was long abandoned, and with a dazy mind, you leaned forwards.
In hindsight, you shouldn’t have gotten more of that liquid bullshit after your hook-up. Jungkook had insisted on it — perhaps you should’ve gone for water and sobered up properly.
But as sloshed as you were, you brought out your funny bones, half your body dangerously pressing against the platform as you exclaimed, “I was having the time of my life with this one.”
A thumb pointed back to Jungkook — if you’d seen the man’s expression, you might not have risked your well being like that. Because his hands floated over you, finally gripping your sides with knitted eyebrows when you moved further forwards.
“Hey,” he called quietly, but you were already immersed in the conversation with Taehyung.
“He wanted me to suc—”
“—ceed in every aspect of life!” Jungkook wrongfully finished, leaning in to whisper to you, “I don’t think you should be saying this.”
Okay. Maybe he was a little more conscious about the situation; but you felt too ecstatic to lay down your jokes.
Grave mistake.
People started turning to you. Heard you clearly.
Taehyung, in his own world, still understood, ignoring Jungkook and asking with a laugh, “Really? Lucky son of a bitch.” He halted, and then pointed a finger at you, “Are you the Charmante girl?”
“Uh-uh,” you rejected, “not tonight.”
Fuck.
Even today, you’re adamant on keeping this part of your memories locked.
Because in a few moments, a mess would occur, followed by Jungkook’s kindness, and it would mentally make you push him away.
You just never expected to see him again in the fall.
During senior year, you concluded that he didn’t deserve the chaos of your world, fearing that your connection might destroy the both of you. But throughout all these months, your heart only held back until it couldn’t.
And today, he has wreaked havoc in it anyway.
“How so?” Taehyung asked.
“Because,” you asked. Stress and hangover incoming. Words a rich, popular future heir like you definitely wasn’t supposed to utter. “Fuck that imperium for tonight, okay!”
“Hey—” Jungkook’s voice again. “Lean back. Don’t do this.”
Taehyung shook his head, slowly caught in the awkwardness you called forth. Your deep-rooted trauma was doing a number on you, and you didn’t seem to realise just yet.
“You should go home,” Taehyung suggested; the second tonight.
Why did they want you to leave so bad?
Cocking an eyebrow, you looked at him weird, stoically staying at your place as you bantered, “I don’t want to.”
“I… I think you should, though?”
“You try going home to misery,” you said, laughing through the ache creeping up. Shit, shit. “I’m fine riding his di—”
“Stop it!”
The firm warning pumped sudden intimidation through your body.
Jungkook said it through gritted teeth, hissing it, a sliver of a grunt in his voice. His hands tightened around you and pushed you back up, catching you when you swayed over the edge.
He was irritated; and you were baffled. Puzzled by his concern.
You creased your eyebrows and gulped. Jungkook knew who you were; had confirmed that he did — but he hadn’t spoken about it a single time tonight.
Was he trying to protect you? Why was he trying to protect you?
“What the hell was that?” he asked, lifting his hands off your body.
You didn’t answer.
In fact, you didn’t quite understand the worries anyway. Yes, you had a reputation, but it wasn’t like anyone on campus cared. Right?
Wrong.
Because when you looked down, registering a faint chatter, you froze. Understood why Jungkook had constantly held you back. And why loosening your tongue had been a bad idea tonight.
You wished you could’ve gone back to singing with him. Not live through… whatever crap you’d caused. Nothing you would’ve done on any other day.
But Taehyung had been talking to you — you weren’t thinking anything of it.
The others, however, were. In fact, they were still laughing and recording when they looked down, some of them shamelessly filming with the flashlight on, pointing in your direction.
And there were quite a few of them…
“Wait,” you muttered, eyes flitting from one stranger to another.
Eun had to be inside, because you couldn’t find her face among them. It took a moment — but then, it started sinking in.
“Oh,” you said, and Jungkook, helpless, kept looking at you. “Oh fuck, no.”
“They won’t do any—”
“No.”
Your body felt immobile and it took more exclaims from downstairs that certainly weren’t Taehyung’s to finally move.
As your limbs came alive, you rushed your way back into the attic; humiliated, fire in your cheeks.
Your legs felt wobbly, but adrenaline kept you on your feet. Your mind awoke, your eyes burning. It took a moment to realise you had Jungkook in tow, storming downstairs with you; he was saying something, a soft hand on your elbow that you shook off in panic.
You’d done this to yourself. Stupidly, idiotically.
Never, never in a million years could you’ve opened your mouth like this in a sober state. You’d trained for this, for fuck’s sake. Knew media attention and how to behave.
The descent to the ground floor took ages; or so it felt.
You traced the faces of the people you’d seen from the roof. Nonstop thoughts of regret flooded you — in the contentment Jungkook’s presence had wrapped you in, you’d lost track of reality.
And now you were rushing from person to person, vehemently warning them and begging them to not put that shit online.
Only to meet a worse fate.
One that, within a moment and without a warning, arrived in the form of a plastered party-goer. Shoulders clashed until you stumbled and fell against a neck-high object. Synthetic plastic bounced against your body, the inflatable pool filled with water and people.
Had they been swimming all night?
Had this thing always been here?
Did it matter anyway when a wave of water broke out of the pool, splashing onto you and half your torso? Probably not.
What mattered was that you were drenched immediately. That Jungkook was still calling your name, albeit further away from you now. Or that a random guy was whistling, mumbling something about your white, soaked top.
Fuck…
Your head darted around; you pushed wet strands out of your face. You weren’t entirely dripping, but enough for people to remember for a while. That was, if they could recall tonight the next day at all.
And if they couldn’t, they’d have it on their damn phones…
Seeking the light crowd, you found Jungkook near the entrance to the house.
He was throwing an empathetic smile, eyebrows scrunched; nibbled at his lower lip and then—
Walked away.
One blink and gone.
You were disappointed. A little hurt. The connection you’d shared felt trivial now; had you enjoyed tonight just to be abandoned by every friend you’d come with or met?
Tears burned in your eyes, there without a notice. In your helplessness, you stood in the middle of the garden. A few people felt sorry for you — you knew.
And other, selected, a handful ones were too drunk to remain respectful.
The attempt to ignore them remained futile; they kept going.
You tried to search for the elusive people who’d recorded you; another handful who had now vanished into thin air again. Hiding their phones to evade you.
And when your search turned out fruitless, you redirected your attention to instead. She had to be nearby. Or Jimin; you hadn’t seen him tonight at all.
Just as you opted to enter the house, a stranger touched your bicep; reacting swiftly, you instinctively dodged his touch. Disgusted and weirded out.
He didn’t attempt to reach out again, but his persistence to struck your nerves was overwhelming; awkward as he tried to compliment, “That was kinda hot of you to say up there.”
To say what?
That you were a victim to your own imperium — that you were seeking company in others?
What was?
Twisted people, you didn’t understand — as much as you didn’t comprehend your own stupidity.
Your fucking fault.
Feeling a wave of chagrin wash over you, you hurriedly made your way to the door, hoping for another escape; hearing another dumb, “Listen, I’m not trying to offend you, but you—”
The sentence dangled in the air; broken by a sudden interruption. Raw cotton grazed your arm as Jungkook stepped next to you, a white towel thrown over his hand as he intervened, “Enough, man. Don’t.”
His tone was gentle, but held a fragment of a warning. Like he was annoyed, frustrated; tired of the people here.
Surprise was an understatement of a word to you.
There he truly was…
He handed the towel to you wordlessly, a hand on your back. Looked at you with a nod and concern in his eyes. You sighed in light relief, though cringing internally as the water trickled down your spine.
Jungkook sensed your unease immediately; said your name as if to take you away the moment you heard Eun’s voice.
In that moment of gratitude, you felt a renewed sense of a link to him — oddly calm as you said, “Thank you.”
The room you stand in is dark.
You’ve walked through several bright and vibrant halls, passing modern pieces. The ceiling was high so far, so this very room, containing art of the stars and nebulas, hit pleasantly with change.
The dimmed lights match the mood of the paintings; and you’ve noticed that visitors are way quieter in here than they were before.
Probably inhaling the silence of space and time. Diving into a world unknown with a curious fascination.
You glance at your watch, squinting to make out the tiny hands — half an hour left until closing time.
Drawing the millionth breath of this evening, you let your arm drop, curling and uncurling your fingers with a sickening feeling in your stomach. Lightly, you rub the spot, head darting left and right.
For some reason, you expect him in this room.
You can’t quite guess what he might’ve come up with after all; the exhibition showcases various genres and styles, and you haven’t found the room exhibiting his creativity yet.
Seems this isn’t the right place to look either. And you’re getting more nervous with each step.
You scold yourself. This better have been the right decision, because you don’t think you’ll be able to opt out anymore.
Your soul is still fractured and afraid; but Taehyung’s words float in your mind. Perhaps this will do something. Make clear that you should stay away. Or make clear that you shouldn’t.
Wrapping your arms around your body, you pass more art, more fresh artists, moving to the next room; irritated by how far he seems and of how cold it is here. Museums and their exaggerated air conditioning.
But the shiver the cool air elicits doesn’t compare to the white, blinding, bustling hall. This must be where the main attractions are displayed. Namjoon’s pride, you imagine.
Because people are still talking to the artists. Fingers on their chin, nodding; fancy tote bags and interested hand gestures prove that they’re fat greater art connoisseurs than you.
You don’t need to comprehend techniques and art jargon, though.
All you need to understand is that in the middle of the room, many feet away from you, stands who you seek. Suit-clad, though he has discarded the black jacket, he’s nodding towards other guests, smiling softly to send them away.
They point to his work one last time, and the next moment, they’re chatting among themselves, walking on.
He’s deep in the moment, tracing their steps, frozen in place.
And you, looking at him from afar, are frozen in time. Like everyone around you is barely moving.
Only your blinking eyes. Only his legs as they shift the balance. And then, only his head when he finally averts his gaze and lets it drift over the room. Stops when he sees you, and…
Remains there.
Your heart jumps; the twisting guts melt and dissipate. Fingers start shaking.
The knot in your throat won’t let you breathe properly; and you think he must be struggling much like you, because even from here, you see him gulp hard.
His longing, sorrowful gaze is killing you. Are you looking at him the same way?
Unsure, you close the gap between your bodies. Slowly, you near him until you’ve become his official guest, taming a wild heart with tense eyebrows.
He’s looking at you like he’s scared to blink. Like you might vanish if he does.
And eventually, you muster the tiniest of smiles, not letting those big, stellar eyes drop you to your knees. But they’re relentless. And…
Red. A little swollen.
“Hey,” you say.
He doesn’t bother for a greeting aside from a little nod. His pink lips are slightly parted, his expression so innocent; so achingly pure. And his voice so weak when he says, “You came.”
“I… almost didn’t.”
He nods lightly, much in understanding. “…I’m glad you did. I’m sorry if my message put you under pressure, I ju—”
“No, no, I thought that— Taehyung told me you’d like it if I dropped by,” you say. Your words are dipped in courage; if he wasn’t looking at you like a yearning puppy, you might not have muttered them. “And also…”
You drop your head, clutching the straps of your purse.
Try not to think of who the both of you used to be.
You clear your throat, gaze flickering up. “I want you to know that I still support you.”
Those puffy cheeks and the younger face, lacking a smile — you’ve only seen that expression before as he slept. When you woke up next to him, observing his dozing form. How helpless he looked. So faultless.
You now know that Jeon Jungkook isn’t perfect, either. But despite all that — or perhaps because of all that — you crave him more.
Because he’s always known he makes mistakes; yet, he’s always been your steadfast anchor.
And maybe that’s all that love ever requires.
No.
Don’t fall back into a spiral.
“Thank you,” Jungkook says. “This means a lot coming from you.”
The first button of his shirt is open; you see the chest rising. The mole on his neck. Last week, in that dark alley, your palm was still covering it. And now, you’re standing at a safe distance.
“So…”
You move, looking past him. The first thing your eyes settle on is a smaller painting.
Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up, and his tangled fingers let go of each other, open palms gesturing you closer. He steps aside and says, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, please take a look.”
He’s nervous. You hear it in his voice.
Why, though?
There’s no need, considering how gorgeous the sunset is. Perhaps a little standard for such exhibitions, but it still carries his touch. The preciseness and soft details.
You lean in, taking in the colours he worked with. There’s no skyscraper or traffic light in sight — the scenery differs a lot from the city you know.
“Is that your hometown?” you ask.
There are white fences and wide fields. Trees afar, a cottage at the right of the canvas. In the right bottom corner, you see a fluffy little cloud, white and serene.
“It is. Not exactly where I live but… a little outside of it,” Jungkook explains, shifting close enough for his shirt to brush against your elbow. You shiver. “I used to ride my bike to this place and watch the sunset. Took me twenty minutes to get there, so my parents weren’t always too happy about it.”
You laugh quietly, straightening your stance again. Pointing to the tiny cloud, you guess, “And this? Gureum, was it?”
He keeps looking at you. You don’t notice until you register his silence; eventually meeting his gaze that screams affection and tenderness.
Whispers, You still remember.
He catches himself within a second, and then says, “Yeah. Gureum. I’d sneak him into the bike basket and take him with me. He’d enjoy the wind. Jump around there,” he nods to the place in the painting, “and enjoy dusk with me.”
“So sweet.”
You hum in pleasure, ready to move to his other piece.
Most of the artists here are boasting two pieces; some one big object, some several smaller ones. Jungkook settled on the choice in the middle; and you immediately realise that his second work is far more elaborate, in details and in size.
And you’d voice fascination, gasp in admiration — you swear you would.
But what awaits you instead is a masterpiece that renders you mute; baffled, and maybe a little heartbroken.
Because you immediately know what it is.
You remember it from a foggy memory; not too long ago but eternities away.
That day, you brought him and his new boss Namjoon lunch. You chose to barge in as a surprise, sitting on Namjoon’s couch, eyes flitting from artistic canvases to dirty brushes.
Back then, you properly talked about Gureum for the first time. Jungkook was working on drawings, carrying around his sketchbook. You swore you saw a glimpse of something familiar flashing that day, but Jungkook closed the book too quickly for you to decipher it.
And now, it’s here. A damn painting on a museum wall.
A pretty artwork for anyone else, a young, incredibly skilled artist’s talent. But to you…
To you, it’s a peek into what you used to be. And proof of what you’ve become.
You’re hurting. You’re fucking hurting.
“Jungkook…” you choke. You keep staring at it; blink twice; shake your head in disbelief and then voice, ”Wait, what?”
He doesn’t respond. Facing the ground, he’s wading through the pain silently; his bangs are covering his eyes. But your emotions are swimming at the surface of your pupils, an absolute mess.
“Jungko—”
“I had a full speech prepared yesterday, you know?” he says, looking to the side. His jutting lower lip makes your chest burn. “But you didn’t come, and… now you’re here and—” He brings an inked hand to his eyes, rubbing them for a moment. “Now I can’t fucking think.”
You can’t either.
“I didn’t know how to come,” you admit.
You gulp down the tears, looking back to the painting.
The background is blurry, like a rainy window. In focus, you see two hands reaching out to each other. One’s palm facing up, the other’s towards the ground.
Fingertips are inches apart, delivering the illusion that they’re touching without ever doing so. His must be the hand hovering over the softer one. And the latter… It's you. Isn’t it?
Digits reaching out to him, never quite grasping him — the same bracelet around your wrist that he brought you from his vacation among so many other things. Blue and sparkly, no actual gemstones but gorgeous nevertheless.
And in your hand—
Forget-me-nots, slowly drying.
Your memory might not be serving you right, but you think that the brief peep you caught back in Namjoon’s studio was fully blue. Have the flowers withered in his mind?
“What does that mean…” you whisper.
You think you know. But you still wait.
Yet, the only hint Jungkook gives you is, “I had this idea in my head… and the night we drove to that small town and I gave you those forget-me-nots? The way you held them got stuck in my mind and—” He shakes his head. “I knew I wanted to paint them like this.”
“But… you didn’t.”
“Because…” He shrugs his shoulders, but the gesture is anything but nonchalant. The melancholy in his eyes betrays him. “Things changed.”
Right…
That’s why the flowers wilted.
Don’t those blue wonders signify remembrance? True love and devotion?
Does Jungkook think you’re forgetting him? Or that your devotion is fading? That whatever tied you two together is diminishing…?
Whatever used to be a symbol of blooming endearment is now a metaphor for broken hearts.
But you bite back the sentimental talk, the questions and statements infiltrating your mind. Keep them in, for your and his sake. Hearts need to stay glued together for as long as possible.
No scene in front of a crowd.
So you say, “In any case… It's beyond impressive. You painted it beautifully.”
Jungkook sighs; recovering from the tension of the moment, and then answers, “Thank you. Since I had you in mind, I’m… honestly glad you came.”
“…Of course. Thank you, too.”
The moment you gulp, more people approach Jungkook’s spot. They’re talking to each other before they greet the artist, flashing tender smiles.
When they immerse themselves in his paintings, murmuring something not directed to either of you, you ask, “Should I go?”
But Jungkook’s reluctance emerges immediately. His eyebrows skyrocket, chest tensing; his words are rushed when he tells you, “Oh, you don’t…! You can stay.”
You look around. The hall is emptying; security is leading people out, probably informing them of closing time. And suddenly, you remember that Jungkook doesn’t possess a car.
“Did you take the bus here?” you ask.
“Yeah.”
“…I could bring you home.”
Why are you suggesting this? Are your lungs not failing you enough? You’re on edge as it is.
And even when he assures, “You don’t have to,” you shake your head, softly promising that, “Yeah, but it’s no problem. If you want.”
With his turn to glance around, Jungkook licks between his lips. Then, he sneaks a look at his watch, contemplating before he says, “The museum closes in ten minutes, and then I’ll need to find Namjoon. Wrap it all up and stuff. Are you uh… okay waiting for half an hour?”
Are you?
Despite all the pain? You shouldn’t be. But for him… achingly and stupidly, you are.
“Yeah,” you voice, keeping your tone stable. You’re dying of nervousness. “I am. If that’s okay.”
Jungkook nods, stepping to the guests; seems they have a question, waiting for their turn. So he redirects his focus again, giving you a little, “Alright. Thank you again.”
But without ever letting his attention fall from you fully. Not even when you finally step away.
The noises of the streets and vehicles keep the silence away.
Music quietly sounds from the radio, and your finger taps the steering wheel slightly to its beat. Jungkook is staring ahead, sometimes looking out of the window; probably as unsure as you about what to say.
The car comes to another halt in front of a red traffic light, and the silence increases your discomfort. From the side, you watch for a tiny moment as he cards his fingers through the soft, long hair.
And involuntarily, you think back to when you’d bury your fingers in them, too. Would pull him to your lips like that; hear him hold his breath.
Your body trembles, goosebumps on your arms.
You immediately rub at them, focusing on the green light, and once the car comes back into motion, you tell him, “You should save up some money and get a car, too.”
He nods, barely looking at you as he responds clipped, “On it.”
“It’s just late.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. And it’s not that late at a—”
“Just,” you interrupt. He’s right — it’s not too late in the evening. But fall is approaching, and the sky is grey; the sun hides these days. “I’d feel better if you had a car.”
You’re aware that it doesn’t matter what you think or feel anymore, but your concerns still seem to resonate with him; maybe he’d feel the same towards you, too. Because he assures softly, “I’m working on it. Don’t worry.”
Another pause in conversation. Another five minutes pass in silence.
Half of the distance to his place conquered, you grow more nervous by the second. This isn’t a casual get-together or you calmly bringing him home.
Right here, next to you, is literally the man you fell for.
Who confessed his feelings in the pouring rain. Who kissed you through the afternoon the very next day. And who forced you to leave the moment his dam broke.
The one who hasn’t allowed you solace in a while; who touched your lips just once since then, only to shatter every piece of you again.
This is him. Still no one but him.
Equally as nervy on your damn passenger seat as you, going back to an exhibition tomorrow that presents the very hand he used to hold.
This hurts like a bitch.
“Jungkook,” you spit.
“Hm?”
“How long…” You draw a deep breath that comes out shakier than anticipated. You calm your chest. “How long had you been working on this?”
Surprised by your question, he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he bites his full lip, toying with its skin before he admits, “Not long. As I said… had the idea for a while, but the day I saw you holding them, I… I kinda cemented that picture into my brain.”
The night of your trip is a firm part of your memory, too.
Piling up bravery, you press your tongue to the palate, clearing your head before you ask, “Why did you make it your main painting?”
Jungkook’s laugh is quiet and insincere. Pained when he answers, “What do you think?”
“I just mean… doesn’t it hurt?”
No response.
You sit up straight, clutching the wheel until your knuckles pale, and try again, “I guess I just didn’t expect you to—”
“What about you?” he questions instead, dodging your inquiry. “Did it hurt you? Seeing it?”
“…Why are you asking?”
“Because I still can’t really decode your reaction.”
Yes… because you’re fighting transparency. The last time you made your vulnerability visible to him, you crumbled.
But does it matter anymore? You thought tonight would give you a clear answer to what to do; but so far, nothing has changed.
Might as well be exposed.
“Those things don't stop hurting so easily, you know?” you say. Talking proves hard. "But. At some point, you get tired of fighting the pain, and instead, let it happen until it gets better."
“Has it gotten better for you?”
His questions are sudden. Different from his determination to leave last week. He feels vulnerable to you, too, as if he’s fighting himself.
“I didn’t think you’d care,” you tell him.
You make a right turn and miss the absolute grief in his eyes. After all the moments you spent together, he didn’t reckon his care for you would escape your mind. But in hindsight, thinking of all the despair he’s put you through, he understands, too.
“Seeing the exhibition today… seeing my piece,” he begins, eyes drifting to his lap, “you still think I don’t care?”
God, your chest feels heavy.
You lift a hand from the wheel, rubbing between your clavicles, but the strange feeling won’t pass. Utter discomfort spreads through your veins, dizzying your head; but you need to concentrate on driving.
You should be almost there.
So you say, “I don’t think I want to talk about it.”
To which he dares to ask, “…Why?”
Another stupid traffic light. No excuse to keep looking away, but you still evade his gape.
“Because.” Unblinking, you stare at the tail lights ahead until the red becomes an unpleasant afterimage. "You'll hurt me." Resolutely, "Again."
No answer.
That’s the problem, isn’t it? His reluctance to say something.
Goddamn, you’re frustrated. Uneasy.
“I think the best way to fight more uncomfortable situations is to not talk about them anymore,” you then say, firmly and certain. “At all.”
“Okay.”
You crane your neck to busy yourself, looking for a parking spot when you finally turn into his street. Frustrated when none is empty, you click your tongue, driving around the block in vain before finding a spot near the tiny park close by.
“There goes,” you say.
Jungkook doesn’t get off immediately. Much as though he still has something to say, something to plead for. His eyes are staring ahead, his breathing deep.
In your lovesick illusion, you imagine him gritting your teeth and then reaching out, pulling you into a kiss.
But the version of you that wades through reality doesn’t want him to; wants to swerve the pain you’re already combating every damn day.
All he says, however, is a timid, “Thank you for coming today. I really was hoping you would.”
You think back to yesterday, picture a lonely Jeon Jungkook, awaiting your arrival without the desired result. You think of his messages last night, and of the desperation in them.
But you don’t mention any of this. Not his apology, not his yearning.
What you do instead is recall the date, taking off the belt; and when he reacts with surprise, you clarify, “I forgot something.”
You open the door of the vehicle carefully, shooting a glance to the empty road. That’s a cool thing about this area — it’s quiet. You think a lot of families and old couples live around here, because it’s usually serene around this hour.
You get out the moment he does, rushing the one step to the backseat. In a corner, right behind the passenger seat and out of Jungkook’s gaze, you find the same silver object from yesterday.
The silky, shiny paper is soft under your touch as you take it out, and you round the car to a positively confused Jungkook. He doesn’t know what’s awaiting him, but he doesn’t ask; only hums in question.
You brush the non-existent dust off the white ribbon, and then stretch the gift towards him.
Which is when he finally speaks.
“What’s that…?”
Suddenly aware of the gesture, your eyes flit to the object. You try not to stutter but fail, “Your birthday present. I… I had it made a little after you came back.”
He keeps staring at it, like it’s an unidentified item, dangerous to touch. But once he’s caught himself, his muscles relax. He closes his mouth, cautiously taking it from you; the brush of his fingers against yours is warm.
As always.
“You can open it now,” you suggest, “and if you don’t want it, I can just uhm… return it or something.”
It’s hard to return such a present. But you know this might be your only chance to take it back, should he not like it.
It’d be a shame, though.
You watch with bated breath as he nods. Pulling at the ribbon, stuffing it into his jeans pocket before he’s unwrapping the present. He’s so gentle with the paper, as if it means anything.
But if your roles were reversed, you’d cherish every bit that carried him, too.
A moment later, the little, squared thing comes into view.
A new sketchbook, matt black.
His name is golden on it, elegantly and swiftly engraved in the middle of the cover.
“You…”
He utters this sole word. And then looks down again.
His fingertips barely touch the cover for another moment, and then, he ever-so-carefully opens to the first page. It’s an index — has a black and white print of a tiger lily behind a box that says—
To fill these pages with every curve and contour you desire, and to colour them in. Like you do with me. Happy Birthday, Kookie.
His breath visibly hitches. He opens his mouth again, audibly exhaling, eyes glued to the words and reading. Rereading. Internalising them.
The shake of his head is barely there, and you think you imagined it. But when he bites his lip again, an old tiny habit, you start worrying.
Maybe it pains him too much after all. You know that’s what it did to you every time you looked at the wrapped package.
Hurriedly, you explain, “I thought it could be something to remember me by. But I understand if you don’t want i—”
“No, I—” He lifts his gaze, your breathing suspended. His waterline glistens. “It’s an honest present. And you had it made just for me, so I… I’d be an ass to not accept.” He pulls it to his body. “Thank you so much. It’s… incredibly thoughtful.”
“So… You like it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“I’m glad. Happy Birthday, Kook.”
The peace in your voices is briefly interrupted when Jungkook suddenly raises the hand with the notebook again, speaking louder as he assures, “You didn’t have to.”
You think back to all his little gestures; the stuff he brought you from his vacation. The freaking tattoo on his arm; the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, and you see a fragment of the orange and blue.
Even now, he carries around his sentiments for you. You’re not accepting his humility this time.
“I’ve never given you a present,” you say, “there was no way to not do that for your birthday.”
Only tonight, he’s wearing his heart on his sleeve; you can see the heaviness of it, tell yourself you’re hearing its beat. Matching yours. Falling like yours.
But you brush it all away, landing back in reality; once more taking in that you’re actually standing here and actually looking at him but reminding yourself that he and you aren’t what you used to be.
It takes enough strength to believe that he’s here, breathing in the same air as you. You won’t dive into delusions that might crack anyway.
You watch as he nods, putting the notebook into his bag in soft, watchful motions. Careful to keep each corner intact.
When he looks back at you, his eyes are glassier than before. Aching to utter something, preparing for something with an open mouth; words fail him, though.
They have been all evening.
What is he waiting to say?
You halt. Keep standing there. Smiling a little, biting the inside of your cheek. And when nothing comes, you finally conclude, “I should go.”
And that’s it.
That’s when his entire being finally breaks.
Because the moment you walk around your car again, he follows immediately; the rushed steps you hear behind you increase the pace of your heartbeat. Hammering against your throat, loud and clear; your head spins.
Worse and worse when you open the car’s door and he appears behind you, shutting it again with a flat hand.
You don’t know what he wants, but you know you’re not ready for it.
But…
You did come here for answers.
So one inhale. One exhale. You calm your head and unflex your muscles. Let your shoulders fall, shut your eyelids, and when ready, open them again.
Your fingers are still gripping the handle, but your gaze is fixated on your window. It’s darker now, and his reflection in it is clearer, albeit still a bit fuzzy. Doesn’t do justice to his incomparable beauty.
Better for your heart, maybe.
Or not?
Because you still catch his sombre stare, meeting your eyes. His nearing body doesn’t contribute to your health. You promised yourself to not spiral, but you are.
And he’s so close.
Because you feel his breath, hear him so near when he mumbles, “I’m sorry.”
Another breath in. You can’t do this.
You stand at your spot with drooping eyes, only half scared that an approaching car might run you over; your other half is dizzy and whispers, “What are you sorry for?”
“That… I hurt you. I know you don’t want to talk about it, and— if you want me to shut up… I’ll do it right now.”
You do. You don’t.
He’s tangling up your thoughts; he always has. Does it matter whether he speaks or not? It won’t change anything about your wretched heart… about the sting it suffers.
If he keeps talking now, you’ll dismantle each of his words for the rest of the night. And if he doesn’t, you’ll keep wondering what he would have said.
You wait. Let him decide what he wants to do.
And when he takes your silence as permission to go on, he says, “I didn’t want to hurt you. And I… I wasn’t being completely honest with you.”
Nightlife starts chirping already. It’s getting darker by the minute.
“When I said things have gotten easier for me without you. I lied.”
You swallow, torso nearing the car. You watch as his hand slowly lifts to the vehicle’s roof, close to your face. If you were in such a position to do so, you’d step back, fall into his arms.
Instead, you merely say, “It sounded true.”
“It was true that people are off my back… but. Nothing’s fucking easier without you.”
You gulp; there’s urgency in his voice, and it’s ruining you thoroughly.
You tell him, “It should be a reward. You’ve won more than you’ve lost.”
A chuckle moves a strand of your hair; it’s still not as sincere as you’re used to, but rather sad. Troubled as his words as he asks, “Let me guess… Because it’s just you?”
You only shrug one shoulder, listen as he adds, “You’re a lot more to live without than you think.”
Are you dreaming? Are his words real?
And the subtle, sudden touch, fingers against yours. Real? A fantasy?
You let out a tiny gasp and then hold your breath, seeking his warmth as he grazes your digits. His question is breathy and hushed when it falls, “Can you look at me?”
You don’t know if you can — yet, you oblige. Somewhere in your head, subconsciously, all of you would still do anything for him, no matter how small or harmless of a command.
“Jungkook…” you murmur, looking at his chest. At its rise and fall. At the buttons. You can’t meet his eyes yet. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why…”
“I want to say that I’m sorry. And—” His next words are daring. Incredibly ruthless, uncaring of your heart. And you can’t believe he lets them slip. “I know it’s far too late, but… if there’s a way, any solution to stick here with you after all…”
Your eyebrows knit together, and you raise your head a little, looking at his shoulders with a feeling akin to irritation. Confusion?
“…What could it be?” he finishes.
“I can’t tell you.” You close your eyes when he moves in; once again hearing the pounding of that treacherous organ in your ears. This is driving you insane. “I knew some solutions. They came easy to me, because you… you felt comforting to me, you know?”
You rub your teeth together; your throat feels dry when you comment, “But now I’m caught up in life and—”
You drop your head lower again, unable to finish the remark.
You’re caught up in emotions and craze, you think. They’re creeping in slowly but surely, and consuming all of you. The way he was supposed to.
His touch stops toying with your hand, allowing a moment of relaxation. Only to come back worse.
The back of his fingers rise high, brushing against your cheeks, down to your jaw. You stand in front of him frozen, unable to defend yourself — or maybe, unwilling to refuse him.
You shudder again; it rolls up and down your spine, tickles your brain. Drains your lungs.
You blink your eyes fully open, and then let him lift your chin with a finger.
Two specific syllables of his sentence render you broken to the core, all of you in agony when he asks—
“Did I make a mistake, angel?”
The question echoes through your mind. What happened for him to reflect on his actions and reevaluate his choices?
How did he come to such a drastically opposite conclusion than he did last week?
Has he realised it takes two to move on? To break off things? That none of you is as free as you could be without each other?
That separation and distance fuel pain instead of destroying it?
Your lower lip quivers. Pulling yourself together, you manage, “Yes. You did.”
“Because of the comfort…?”
“Not only. You know why.”
“…Tell me.”
He’s reckless.
Perhaps he’s milking it to lead the two of you to a common understanding. One where it’s clear to either of you that you need each other’s presence around, navigating towards a final verdict.
So, so different from the words that cut you last week.
“Why?” you ask.
“Because,” he begins immediately, “I’m an idiot who chose for us both. I should’ve heard you out, because… this isn’t benefiting us, right?”
“You couldn’t see that before? When I told you tha—”
“I’m an idiot,” he repeats, “who thought he knew what he was doing. And I didn’t. I want to steer towards a decision we can both agree on. So tell me,” he tries again; you sigh. The whiplash is too much. “Why was it a mistake?”
The cool evening breeze rustles through the trees and your hair. The faint glow of the streetlights starts settling in, casting a soft illumination on the surroundings. Helps you see his face clearer.
His words weigh on your heart; you could ramble down a list as to why it was a mistake.
But you settle on the obvious, “Because… I’m working on getting out of my house.” Your voice is tinged with resolution; and the statement seems to surprise him. Eyebrows shoot up. “I’ve found an apartment and… started planning out every detail of how I want it to look and feel. But…”
His eyes fill with curiosity and concern; his voice, despite all the mess, is a soothing presence amidst the uncertainty, “But?”
“But it still doesn’t feel like home… It's strange.”
“Did I feel that way to you?”
“Being with you was the first time in my life that someone or something truly did.” Your words start breaking; your voice a dwindling sound. This requires as much strength as you expected. You take a deep breath. “So yes, you… you made a mistake.”
You wait, working on your tone, steadying it with conviction. And then, you say, “I’ve never needed anyone to survive, you know? I trained myself to be as independent as I can be. Just—”
Your lungs seem to shrink; they feel tight and knotted. Maybe you’re saying too much and not hoping enough. Perhaps that’s the perfect formula for further heartbreak.
But you communicate these thoughts. You will go insane in this little head of yours if you keep them in any longer.
“I crave your comfort,” you mumble. “Whenever I feel like shit or empty, I think— if he was here, he’d know what to say or do. He’d listen. And I hate that. The only warmth I’ve ever known shouldn’t come from you, and I– I shouldn’t be missing you like that.”
You huff out a breath, accompanied by a frustrated and exhausted sound. Your fingers rub your tired eyelids, your head moving to the side. The tips of your digits keep the dampness in, and you focus on proper respiration.
Say, “I hate that I’ve grown to crave you.”
You should’ve known, back in someone else’s bedroom; pressed against him; on the damn roof.
This thing you started with him wasn’t going to end any other way, and you should’ve known.
Wasn’t it the biggest reason you opted for distaste instead? For playful loathing, showcasing it in every class and whenever you met him once the semester started.
It was easier than being fond of him — like when he pulled you to your feet again; back when you were drenched in pool water, staring at the towel he handed you.
“It was much easier,” you echo, “when you weren’t part of my life. I pushed you away with some stupid academic excuse, because I knew we… this would hurt. So much fucking easier to keep you at a distance.”
And when you marched into dorm room 7, asking him for that dumb deal, what were you thinking?
Diving into risks head-first, despite all the knowledge you possessed of your miserable little world.
But the worst confession you might admit to yourself today is that — you’d do it all just the same again.
When you open your eyes once more, you see stars. Might be the rubbing you provided them, or the pupils you’re staring into. They are drenched in enough pain to fracture every teeny tiny bit of your soul.
Desolation swims in your waterline, but you don’t dare to blink; wait until it’s gone back. It proves hard when he keeps looking at you like that.
Almost impossible when he asks, “What do I do to make it right?”
The answer has always been the same, and he has never liked it. What else can you do but to repeat it over and over again, hoping for it to sink in one day and trigger change?
“You open up,” you say, “you tell me how you feel. What you feel.” Your chin trembles; you pull the evening air through your nose. “You stop keeping secrets from me and tell me what’s wrong.”
“I have never opened up with anyone as much as with you.”
And the worst truth is that he means that. No hint of hesitation and deception in his eyes.
It breaks you that this is the most he’s ever been able to disclose. What happened to him that forced him to bury every revelation in his ruptured heart?
His fingers slither to your cheek. He keeps the balmy palm under your ear, as he’s always liked to do. So many habits you caught; all of them pricking your skin now.
“Why have you never before?” you question, hoping for answers. Any of them. “To anyone else?”
His expressions change, much as you expected — feared.
The hand on your face moves a tiny inch, somewhat restless and uneasy. His exhale is desperate. And you, still clueless and suddenly anxious, prod, “Can you tell me?”
Hope trickles through your skin and into his — because for a moment, he looks like he can. There’s hesitation in his stare, but his veiled thoughts seem to sneak to the forefront of his mind.
You’re close, you think.
Unimaginably close to figuring him out.
But then, all the sparkle withdraws again. Like a lightbulb shutting off, his eyelids droop again, and he utters, “I can’t.”
God.
“Why not?”
“Because it hurts.”
“I want to help you, Jungko—”
“You can,” he hastily promises, fretful, as if you’re slipping away again — and maybe, you think, you are. “Just not now. Please just.” He downs the clump in his throat. “Let’s fight through this, because I want you to be able to help me, too.”
Fuck.
Why is this worse?
Wanting the aid, wanting the support; wishing for relief but not being able to accept it.
His lips draw closer, pillowy when they graze yours. Stalling the kiss as he mumbles against your mouth, “Can we fight through it?”
You don’t answer; drop your head to the side. A flicker of your old stars returns, but then it dies again; much like a candle in the wind.
He steps back slowly. Carefully. His chest deflates as he asks, “Is it… because of Hoseok?”
Hoseok?
That foolish conversation you had at the movies; his insecurity and the hints of jealousy. Has he been thinking about it?
Hoseok.
Unbelievable.
Of all things plaguing your mind, Hoseok is the last to keep you away from Jungkook. No. Fucking no.
“What?” you voice louder now, slightly piqued.
But he immediately retreats, kissing his teeth as he assures, “Nothing.”
You’re not done, though.
“No,” you tell him, “no, it’s not him. If it was, I’d chosen him years ago. And last year, I wouldn’t have come to the party but rethought his offer. But— Jungkook, fuck, I’m standing here with fucking you, because you never tried to fix me. Just… you just accepted me. Lived through every fucking day with me.”
He’s surprised. Expected the burst as much as you.
“I—”
A single pronoun escapes him before you interject again.
“It’s not because of Hoseok. It’s because of me. And because of you.” Your breaths are irregular when he caresses your jaw. Your thoughts are jumbled. “It’s because the hurt sits too deep to think about this now.”
“I… I know.”
“I can’t think about it, or anything. Or about you.”
Your forefinger presses against his chest, but his touch doesn’t falter. He keeps his palm planted on your face, another one joining on the other side as he repeats, “I know. I know.”
You’re agitated.
Want him away but closer. Silent but confessing his innermost wishes.
So bewildered, unable to make sense of this. Because what’s happening? Where are the two of you going?
Since that very frat party, what road were you on?
You don’t know. And maybe you shouldn’t think about your timeline. How you developed and how you got here.
But you can’t help it when his thumb comes back to your lips, parting it, preparing for another bittersweet kiss.
Like he always does. Like he did months and weeks ago.
Or…
That very night after the unspeakable humiliation, when he parted from you.
No matter how much you’ve forgotten, you still remember that time’s farewell.
The towel didn’t dry your clothes faster, but you were thankful for the gesture.
Jungkook rubbed your half-damp hair, insisting on helping, and the summer and its heat did the rest. Your back faced the wide bathroom mirror; you didn’t want to look at your miserable reflection anymore.
Eun was standing outside — her folded arms and the tapping finger spoke volumes, and her squinting eyes sought the assholes who’d ruin your night for you.
According to her, she’d already seen you with Jungkook; and not one to spoil your first good night in ages, she’d stayed away, instead looking for a certain blacked out Park Jimin. He was already home again, she said.
Now that you were leaning against the sink, she was seething on the other side of the door. Ready to bring you home; ready to thrash a couple people’s heads, only resisting because you’d told her to.
“Are you done?” you heard her from outside.
You looked up at Jungkook. You didn’t quite understand his willingness to stay with you, but you appreciated it. Stared at him with big, questioning eyes as he said, “Almost.”
“Eun,” you mumbled through the door, surprised when she heard you; hummed. “Could you get my stuff? Just my purse and cardigan.”
No hesitation.
“Where is it?”
“Attic. I forgot it there.”
She didn’t say much; grumbled something and then stormed away, once again leaving you with the kind presence in front of you.
In some way, you hoped you weren’t going to see him again. He was popular on campus, and you were a joke. The rich, little girl who made an idiot of herself at a private frat party.
If he wanted to keep his reputation, he wasn’t going to cross ways with you again either.
Right?
“People are so dumb,” he said, vexed as he put the towel away. “That was an absolutely inhumane thing to do. Thought we’re outta high school.”
You scoffed. “Are we ever?”
Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. Maybe he felt the need to reassure you a little more, because he said, “They’ll forget about this in a day or two. Fuck them and keep living.”
Huh.
It was such a harmless statement, wasn’t it?
But… you weren’t used to it.
What you knew were strategies to help your image; to drown the rumours and delete online humiliation, which would undoubtedly happen again this time. You knew of staff that spoke to journalists or pacified magazine publishers.
But not of encouragements to forget about it and live on.
“Thank you,” you said, timid and quiet.
The way he stood there, leaning back, looking at you. Waiting for you to finger-comb all knots out of your hair… you had to say something. So you did.
“I think I told you so much today, because I needed it out. And you said all the things I needed to hear, so… I truly do feel thankful. For everything.”
More of the dialogue is broken. Your diary didn’t delve into details of the bathroom scene; all leftover pictures your written words evoked today are fragments now.
Like how he looked at you.
A bit of surprise, mixed with endearment. A smile that followed and a nod; one step closer and then another.
Or the tilted head and the tired doe eyes. The thumb that lifted to your lips, parting them — you didn’t know back then that he liked this tiny detail, and that you’d grow to love it, too.
And you recall the way he moved closer.
Leaving a gap between his own lips and then settling them between yours. Unprovoked, unannounced.
Softly, slowly. No craze, no insanity.
Just a touch. Fingers on your jaw, mouth moving just a little.
And then, him backing away again, bringing the night-long conversation to an end until you met again that fall.
“Go home and be well,” he said. “Fuck everyone else, okay? If they can’t treat you right or love you the way you wish, then just fuck it all.”
You felt hazy and warm. More sober than before, but drunk on confusion.
Something told you that he wasn’t just talking about the immature public down in the garden, but everything you’d confessed on the roof, too.
Hoseok.
You simply voiced, “Huh?”
“She will be loved, right?” he asked one last time. You smiled; the giddy feeling was unmistakably present. “For sure one day.”
Nostalgia is a bitch.
It’s supposed to be a sepia feeling. Comforting and sweet. It shouldn’t hurt like this.
The memory is poignant; you want it back, but you don’t want to trudge through the pain again. You want this to be over. Want to dive through the agony and surface to a better time.
If fate and the world let you, with him by your side.
Is it too much to ask for? You don’t know.
“Can you ju—”
You look at him immediately.
The same doe eyes you know — soft, tender, dry but despondent. There’s not a single tear in sight, but his words and voice still break. The fear in his pause smashes your heart into smithereens.
“Just… once,” he begins, “could you look at me like that again?”
“…Like what?”
“Like you didn’t stop falling for me.”
Still. Everything stays still.
You don’t think you could ever look at him like you stopped. You can’t imagine you’re staring at him right now like you ever did. How do you make clear to him that you orbit around him?
You keep standing still. Not an inch moves; your heart might give out.
Words fail you when his hope collapses and his shoulders drop. A deflating chest, a sigh of dispiritedness; and then, his touch is gone.
He nods slowly, a hand sinking back into his pockets. Clutching the strap of his bag, he steps away, keeping your gaze for a moment before he turns around.
His falling head makes you sick to the stomach; the way he’s walking away, no other word uttered, is gut-wrenching. You know he’ll text you again; thank you for the present at least.
You are so certain he will.
But you hate how this played out. Hate that nothing is resolved.
And maybe it’s that loathing towards this very outcome why you don’t want to leave just yet. No matter how this might end — whether you part or find your way back to each other again.
There’s just one thing you somehow want to remind him of again.
“That night at the frat party… last year,” you start. He halts in his steps, moving to face you. “We were dumb to treat it like nothing.”
He blinks at you.
“It’s where it started, don’t you think? And it’s where we should’ve been truthful with what we wanted already.”
“Why are you saying that now?” he asks.
“Because I just remembered that… you kissed me back then, too. You kissed me like you didn’t want me to leave.”
It’s when your tale already started. Pointing at one outcome: no matter what hurdles, you were meant to end here together, but without the pain, as one unit.
It was clear back then. It should’ve always been clear; break ups were redundant. You know — does he, too?
His gaze feels heavy on you. The silence lingers, tension mounting as he takes in your answer. Doesn’t say a single word until your face is hot and your heart is bursting.
Maybe you’ve pushed him away, wounded his heart. He looks… disoriented. Have you said too much? Or not enough? Did you utter something not true at all?
False.
Because a moment later, his features change; endless longing as clear as the sky when he speaks again—
“Angel…”
Your breath catches; every damn piece of you implodes.
“Stay the night.”
alllllright :’) worth the wait? :’’’) i’m sorry if not but YAY if yes !! tbh, more things were supposed to come to light, but the chapter was already too long, so i had to split it. you shall find out more and get some relief in ‘cmi9: blue’ !! another reason i focused on the flashbacks more was bc… i need us to process the big reveal >:) how was it? what do you think?
as always, thank you so much for supporting this series. it means a shit ton to me that you guys are still here and loving these two as much as i do. as per usual, this one required all my brainpower and my free time, too; so if you liked it or want to say literally anything, please keep interacting with the series – motivation to work on this is always boosted by you guys tremendously !! so please like, reblog (on desktop since the post’s so big!!), comment aaaand send an ask !!! i shall answer them all this time >:O
thank you and i love you. here’s to more <3
#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jeongguk smut#bts smut#jungkook angst#jungkook x reader#bts x reader#bts x you#bts imagines#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x you#jungkook fic#jungkook imagines#jungkook fanfic#bts angst#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook#jungkook au#jungkook series
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The Fox, the Crow, and the Bunny.
ੈ♡˳ Il Dottore and Gn!Child!Reader *ೃ༄
ੈ♡˳ 2.4k words ┊ Fluff *ೃ༄
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author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
something sweet. dedicated to @idyllic-affections thanks for writing my kaveh rq n this series is inspired by ur acc.. realized i strayed from the real purpose of this fic and made it too long, so just think of it as a 2 in 1 special lol,, (also hi sorry for using dottore he's like my muse and i love writing him) also i hope yall get the meaning of this shit lmao (ref to the scara quest tale)
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cw: strictly platonic/familial, reader is 8 years old, basic dottore warnings, mentions of death, dissecting animals and injuries, implied dottolone (barely), a little ooc but it's canon to me
Dottore's office was once a sacred chamber inside the Fatui headquarters.
While not relatively as pristine as his laboratory, amidst the chaos, there was order. Everything was in its designated place, even though his desk was a nightmare to whoever laid eyes on it (spilled coffee too busy to clean, now dried onto the wood of his table, piles, and piles of documents and papers stacked haphazardly on one another, a disarray of pens and pencils occupying every available niche, and vials filled with who-knows-what dangerously teetering on the edge).
Hazards lurked at every turn within his office, presenting a far-from-presentable façade that seemingly clashed with his position as the 2nd of the 11th Fatui Harbingers. Yet, one might ponder, does the doctor truly concern himself with such matters?
No, not at all. He doesn't have the time to clean everything or keep them in such an organized state. He simply knows everything is in place, and the mess scarcely holds him back (he hires maids once in a while, when the mess gets too much, and in 1 out of 5 maids he hires only makes it out alive).
Yet, what truly imbued this room with a sense of sanctity? For within these walls, he unearthed his genuine solace and tranquility.
In this space, silence reigned supreme. Isolation was his companion, a cherished serenity he embraced. Here, his thoughts danced, inventions took form, and ideas flowed onto paper alongside intricate equations. Occasionally, he'd pass out on his desk and drool all over his papers. This room stood as a shelter inviolable, reserved solely for those few instances of urgency or the presence of a fellow Harbinger.
All other members of the Fatui instinctively bid their time, patiently awaiting his emergence from the sanctum of his office before venturing to approach him. For within its confines, the Doctor was impervious to disruption. No one disturbs the Doctor.
That was before you came along, of course.
The office, ill-suited for a child of your tender years, harbored a minefield of hazards. Within its walls lay various artifacts, concoctions, and intricate machinery, a perilous realm unfit for the innocent curiosity of youth. Regrettably, your presence inadvertently disrupted the serene harmony that had long enveloped this space, unsettling the Doctor who, by nature, dislikes abrupt shifts and deviations from what he was used to.
When you first arrived in his office (he didn't want you inside of it, after all, he wasn't exactly fond of children, but he had no choice) you were immediately injured after stepping onto a shard of glass that Dottore has completely ignored. You tried your very best not to cry for the sake of not irritating Dottore further, but he wasn't very gentle with your wound either.
He took note of keeping his vials away from the edge of his table.
Then a bunch of books topples over you. He puts them into the shelves now, and you helped him organize by using the Dewey Decimal System, to which you had read from a book.
Then, while he was explaining his recent idea (rather enthusiastically) to you, his hand accidentally slammed against his files and flew straight to your face. You also helped him organize his papers.
And then it was cleaning his desk, offering him DIY pencil holders you've made just for him. You've also invented a mug that prevents the liquid inside from spilling (he thinks it was a rather brilliant invention, he no longer has to worry about spilling on his desk).
And then it was putting his rather precarious possessions somewhere else, outside the vicinity of his office and far away from your grasp.
You were very eager to help him in any way possible, and for a child, you quite enjoyed receiving chores. Yet, your contentment was uncomplicated, drawn from the privilege of being granted entry to his treasure trove of knowledge, replete with a limitless collection of books, materials, and tools.
Dottore always thought that you'd be such a nuisance to him once you entered his office and sully the peace he has always known within his office's enclosed haven.
But he didn't expect to welcome your presence at all, on such short notice, too. (Deep inside, he felt a strange warmth in his chest whenever you'd tug on his coat, asking if he needed any assistance with organizing his office. He wonders what it was, though.)
So, here you were, amidst the symphony of pen strokes etching against paper, a solitary melody resonating within the confines of his office.
Contrary to his expectations, the calmness he believed would dissipate upon your arrival had, in fact, been amplified by leaps and bounds. As he observed from the corner of his eye, you reclined on your stomach, legs swinging idly behind you, immersed in a world of creativity. Strewn across the floor, an assortment of crayons bore testament to your artistic endeavors, while he diligently attended to the papers handed by the Fatui.
Then, as if hesitant to break the comfortable silence, you tried to catch his attention with a soft 'psst!', then covered your mouth with your tiny hand to suppress your childish giggles.
The corners of his lips twitch in irritance amusement as he turns his head toward you, his pen on the desk. You broke into a much bigger grin and held your drawing close to your chest, not wanting to expose it just yet. "Hey, Dotdot!" You whispered to him, and he can't help but roll his eyes smile at the nickname you've given him. "Can I show you what I drew?"
Dottore emitted a contemplative hum as if grappling with the decision of whether to engage or remain absorbed in his thoughts. Your evident impatience manifested in a pout, prompting his response. "Well, fine," He yielded, beckoning you forth. You beamed brightly as you swiftly rose to your feet and bounded toward him, your landing generating a muted grunt from him. A steadying hand rested on the desk, enabling him to regain his composure, after which he settled your giggling form comfortably within the space between his legs. "Now then," He put his hands on your shoulder, "What is it you wished to share?"
With another giggle from your ceaseless childish amusement, you gave him the piece of paper. Big, round eyes sparkling against the light of the room looked up at him expectantly. Dottore received the drawing from you, his gaze lingering over its details, drawn into a moment of shared curiosity and wonder.
It was him, and you, holding hands, depicted with earnest effort and the imaginative touch of your youthful artistry. Around you were a bunch of other versions of him, his segments, though you've only drawn five (since they were the only ones who have interacted with you so far). Each had their names labeled beneath them, but Dottore absolutely adores that you've labeled him as 'Dotdot' instead (you've also drawn Pantalone holding your other hand and labeled him as 'Pants', adorned both figures with encircling hearts).
"Truly remarkable artwork," He stated with a smile, his words accompanied by the sound of your jubilant cheers, "This masterpiece deserves a place of honor, a spot where all can admire it. I can already imagine the joy it will bring to the other segments once they lay eyes on it."
"Really!?"
"Of course, I do believe they enjoy your company, little bunny."
As he carefully set the drawing on his table, your inquisitive gaze caught his attention. With a tilt of your head, a gesture he knew all too well, you asked him a question, "Why do you call me that?"
"Hm? Call you what?" Dottore grabbed you gently and settled you onto his desk. Positioned face to face, at eye level, his intent was clear—to engage with you as both an adult and a child, a balance you seemed to relish.
"Bunny! You call me bunny lots,"
"Oh? Do you not like it?"
You vigorously shook your head, "No no, I love it! I get called nicknames, but they're all mean." You furrow your brow as you reminisced, pouting at the awful memories. But then you broke into a big smile again, "But yours is new and cute! So, why do you call me that?"
Dottore's grin widened, revealing his sharp teeth, a sight that enthralled you. Your hands instinctively moved to his cheeks, your eyes filled with wonder, and he welcomed the touch wholeheartedly. "Ahh, ever so curious, aren't you, little bun?" He teased playfully, giving your nose a gentle boop! with his finger, and your giggles were a delightful response. "You see, I call you bunny because you embody its spirit—small, swift, and an endless source of vibrant energy.
You also love to hop onto people a lot."
"I love giving surprise hugs! I'm too small, so a jump, so I can wrap my arms around them a bit higher!" You huffed as he chuckled at your explanation. "What are you, then? What animal?"
"Oh? I've never thought about what kind of animal I'd be... Hmmm..." Dottore mused for a while, his expression thoughtful. Eventually, he arrived at a decision. "A fox, I think. Crafty, shrewd, and sly. A creature that prowls with a purpose and possesses those distinct, sharp teeth." As he said that, he grins once more to show his sharp teeth, then lunges for your finger, mimicking a bite, prompting you to gasp and pull back with a joyful squeal.
"And speaking of bunnies..." His tone took on a mischievous edge, causing your eyes to widen in anticipation. Suddenly, he swooped in, grabbing your legs and lifting you high into the air. "I might just gobble you up!" Dottore's playful pretense of chomping down on you elicited a cascade of laughter from you. You pushed at his head, trying to escape his 'gobbling' jaws, your legs kicking playfully as you enjoyed the moment.
"I don't think you're a fox, Dotdot!" You quipped, retaking your seat on his desk. Playfully swinging your legs, you mused aloud, a soft humming accompanying your contemplation.
Dottore raised an intrigued eyebrow, "Oh? And what am I in the eyes of my little bunny? Perhaps something more fearsome?" He inquired, looming over you in an effort to intimidate you.
Instead, your eyes lit up brightly, and you joyfully clapped your hands together. "Oh, I've got it! A crow!" You exclaimed with a triumphant smile.
A bemused frown replaced his grin as he processed your unexpected response. "...A crow?" He echoed, clearly puzzled by your choice. "Of all animals?"
And you merely smile at him, giggling at his confused reaction, "Mhm! Yeah! A crow that talks on and on and on." Your hands followed your words, almost hitting him in the face, "A crow that is death and prey over rotting corpses, but a crow that saved me! I thought Dotdot was an angel, but angels don't have black feathers, scary smiles, or red eyes."
Your words painted a vivid picture of your perception, a whimsical and deeply personal perspective on his nature. Dottore nods along, intrigued, as you rambled your thoughts to him, not even chastising you for grabbing the beak of his mask and playing with it.
"You're a crow! You're very smart, and clever, and creative! You're scary to other people, but not to me! I love corvids, I used to feed them bits of animal after I dissect them, and they always bring me something shiny. They were my only friends, and now you're my friend too!"
He doesn't understand the gentle warmth that began to unfurl within his chest as he remained attentive to your words. While unfamiliar, this sensation wasn't entirely unwelcome... "I beg to differ, my dear bunny. I am unmistakably a fox,"
"Then you're a crow pretending to be a fox!" You pout, stubbornly crossing your arms. "I think crows are way cooler than foxes. They can fly! Plus, you can't call yourself a fox when you resemble a crow more than a fox!" You pointed out, a triumphant smirk on your lips.
Well, you do have a point. He does wear a beaked mask, coupled with a bird-like shoulder embellishment bedecked in exquisite black feathers.
"Should I then consider donning attire that better befits a fox?"
At the notion, you fixed him with a mock glare, your cheeks puffing out in an adorable display of discontent. "Nooooo! I prefer Mr. Crow!" you protested with a playful whine, punctuating your words by delivering gentle punches to his shoulders with your tiny hands.
He chuckles at your small tantrum, and he swiftly gathers you into his embrace. Your arms naturally encircled his neck as he rose from his seat, carrying you toward the door, your precious drawing clutched in your hands. "Very well, very well, my dear Mr. Crow it shall remain," He conceded with a playful tone, his steps filled with an easy camaraderie.
Victoriously, you shot him a smug grin, to which he rolled his eyes at.
"Do you wanna know something, Mr. Crow?" You mutter in his ear as he walks past one of his segments.
"Hm? What is it?"
You made sure to whisper it very quietly, hoping the other segments won't hear you. "Between you and me, I think that your younger segments are like rats!"
He didn't know what came over him, he released a hearty, resounding laugh, its volume surprising not just you but also the other segments who happened to be present, each momentarily taken aback by their own affairs. Such an outpouring of mirth was rare for him (only when he was inside his dark, cool lab, alone with experiments).
A sense of pride swelled in your chest as you grinned widely, his laughter infectious as you burst into a fit of giggles. It was a scary laugh, maybe it was just naturally like that, but to you, it sounded very happy. "They bit me once! I was just poking their face."
"Perhaps give them a treat before you approach them," He says, calming down as he continues his trek toward your room. "This gesture might just soften their demeanor."
"What, like cheese?"
"Oh, little bun, that'll drive them even more mad once they found out you called them rats."
You share another grin with him, finding a cozy spot to rest your chin upon his shoulder in contentment, "Good! I think they're funny when their faces turn red."
- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I’ll appreciate it very very much! Don’t repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌
#favoniuslibrary#˚₊໒🔪꒱kai writes₊˚#˚₊໒🩹꒱kai's series:JLM.₊˚#╰┈➤ il dottore#dottore x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact#il dottore x reader#platonic genshin x reader#platonic genshin impact#this is my form of mega copium#uhghghg RGAHGHH#i have so many ideas#make it angst#i wanna take care of dottore too tho :(#i want to give dottore an adult figure that cares about him#protip: if ur sad just think of your fav character as your family relative and it doesn't matter if they're older or younger#:)
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What is dmbj? I've googled it but idk if it's one of those 'I love it and recommend it' shows or a 'I love it - pls never watch it <3' kinda show yk lol
Is there an answer somewhere in the middle? Because that's where it should go.
DMBJ is a franchise based on a set of novels by an author we'll call NPSS. These are mostly first-person tales narrated by a spoiled little dipshit named Wu Xie, as he and his friends go on tomb-raiding adventures, encounter supernatural obstacles, and learn about all the ways snakes don't work. The series has several giant holes in it, as NPSS tends to get bored and wander off mid-story. Several dramas and movies have tried to adapt various pieces of this gap-ridden, wholly unresolved saga, to varying degrees of success.
So to answer your question: There are installments of DMBJ that are a hoot that you should watch, and then there are installments of DMBJ that are also a hoot but you shouldn't watch before you have an affection for the franchise as a whole, and then there are installments of DMBJ that you should not watch even if you are a fan of the franchise because they are just not worth your time.
The problem is, not everybody agrees on what goes in which category. But if you're interested and want to give it a go, these are my personal takes on what's what, in chronological order of events as they happen in the series:
The Mystic Nine
Good starting place: Yeah, actually!
Requires prior knowledge: Nope
Actual ending: No resolution whatsoever
Wu Xie: He's not in this one
Best part: Charming characters you love or love to hate
Warning: Very cheaply produced, with cuts that render significant parts of the story incoherent
Worth watching: Yes, if you're willing to accept the jankiness
The Lost Tomb
Good starting place: Weirdly, no, considering that it's the first series they made
Requires prior knowledge: Not really
Actual ending: Oh, heavens no
Wu Xie: Cardboard twerp, kinda cute
Best part: There's ... some antics, I guess?
Warning: Makes some bizarre additions, condenses several books, just ... isn't very good
Worth watching: Not especially
The Lost Tomb 2
Good starting place: You could do worse
Requires prior knowledge: Some, but who knows if it helps?
Actual ending: Ha ha ha you're funny
Wu Xie: Breathtaking idiot twink street-parking a Maserati
Best part: Wu Xie and Pangzi are in love
Warning: Interminable bronze tree plotline, incomprehensible timeline especially at the ending
Worth watching: Sure, but bring a book for the long stretches
The Lost Tomb 2: Explore With the Note
Good starting place: It doesn't matter, because you're not going to watch this one
Requires prior knowledge: It can't save you
Actual ending: Nothing of the sort
Wu Xie: Shove that whiny nerd in a locker
Best part: There is no best part
Warning: Don't do this to yourself
Worth watching: What do you think
Ultimate Note
Good starting place: It seems like no at first, but it actually is!
Requires prior knowledge: It helps, but you can get by without it
Actual ending: Complete cliffhanger
Wu Xie: Precious muffin
Best part: Everyone is so cute, also heihua
Warning: Tonally way goofier than the other series
Worth watching: Yes! This one's so fun
Tomb of the Sea/Sand Sea
Good starting place: If you like things on Hard Mode
Requires prior knowledge: The main character doesn't have any, so why should you?
Actual ending: It thinks it does, but it's stupid and slapdash and leaves a million loose ends
Wu Xie: Mafia widow (also he's not the main character)
Best part: Seeing from the outside how fucked-up the whole Tomb Raiding Industrial Complex is
Warning: A hot mess, but occasionally a beautiful one
Worth watching: Yes, but maybe save it for later
Reunion: The Sound of the Providence
Good starting place: Shockingly, yes
Requires prior knowledge: No, though it recontextualizes everything once you know more
Actual ending: Yes! Holy shit! We got an ending here!
Wu Xie: Consumptive angel with a gun
Best part: Some truly impressive performances from Actual Actors, Wu Xie and Pangzi are married
Warning: Honestly, just watch this one first so you don't know what you're missing, because once you do, you can't unsee it
Worth watching: Definitely
I hope that ... helps? Or at least doesn't make your confusion worse?
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Wandee Goodday - Ep 1
The long awaited first episode of Wandee Goodday is finally here, I'm sure I wasn't the only one who had been chanting "save me Wandee Goodday, Wandee Goodday save me" for the past few months lol
What I liked:
lots of humor, especially in the 4/4 part I laughed non-stop, although I must admit that a lot of the laughter was from second-hand embarrassment 🙈
Great and Inn are just beautiful (it's good that Great has loose clothes now, I was always worried about the buttons on his super tight uniform in MoD, fighting for their lives)
Thor and Fluke are also lovely, I really like the fact that their characters are already a couple and are completely in love with each other (and horny for each other 🔥) and so open about it
side characters add a lot to scenes, even if they appear for a moment, like a salesman offering technical advice on sex, or a doctor who sprays water on naughty subordinates, also nurses!
I really like Dee as a doctor, as an employee who doesn't let himself be treated like shit by clients and as a friend. He is nice, strong, confident, reliable and capable. Which is in stark contrast to how hopeless and lame he is in his love and sex life 🙈
I like how Yak and Dee felt an immediate physical attraction to each other, which is fighting against an equally immediate strong dislike lol The natural flow they have in their relationship: from physical attraction, through fights caused by negative circumstances, to the night spent together shows that this kind of relationship can be done, without humiliation bordering on bullying, as it's between Phum and Peem in We Are
I really like Yak who can just… stop when he has any suspicion that his partner is not fully in the moment, not fully sure. It was so cool, no forcing Dee to continue by putting pressure on him, making him feel "guilty", no awkwardness, complete chill. I like it when sex is treated so casually that even if nothing happens, the partners just sit and talk and there is no sense of pressure, everything is just so... normal and chill. I loved it.
Kao as a friend, a sidekick, a "token lgbt friend of the main character" 😄, who has his own life and although he is very funny, he is not a serial clown and comic relief, as is often the case. And he is asexual with credible dating problems. So interesting! Also: Drake 💖
I feel kind of vindictive happy that my most hated trope, wiping food from the mouth of the "love interest", is shown here as messing with Dee and giving him false hope for a relationship (?) The day this trope dies will be the day I win. I plan to get drunk when this happen hehe (vain hopes, of course, this disgusting trope will never die)
What I have a few, teeny-tiny reservations about:
at this point I don't really understand Ter's motivation: was he deliberately seducing Dee, or was he just too chummy with him, which he misinterpreted? Not that it matters tho...
8 years of all this? oh Dee… 🙈 (I love how Kao described this pathetic situation in just a few words)
I also don't really like making Dee a silly kid and a 🤡 when it comes to love and sex, especially since he's shown in other scenes where he's a full adult. He's a grown man with a serious profession, so it felt weird watching him as if he were a 15-year-old kid in a slapstick comedy. I get that there's a comedic element to it and it was funny and I was laughing, but the amount of cringe and second-hand embarrassment was downright overwhelming at some point. What is fine as convention in MSP or Only Boo no longer looks so good in series about adults
the comedy of the sex scene completely stripped away the hotness of these scenes, ngl
the above comments are not complaints, they are just loose observations. It was only the first episode after all 😉
Overall, the series started well, I had a great time watching it, I laughed a lot, the characters are cool and very attractive, Great has the body of a young god 🔥
I can't wait for their first kiss and a truly hot night - with fun, but no comedy.
What a wasted opportunity for them not to watch MANNER OF DEATH and the uniform buttons! hanging for dear life! Like seriously, it was right there 😤
The series is very pretty, just look at those aesthetic shots in a public toilet:
Omg, this guy:
Me:
Me 🤝 Dee about coffee:
(I shouldn't pick on Dee, if someone brought me coffee just the way I like it, I'd be as stupid as him 😑)
One of my 457,869 screen shots of this man, gosh, he's so fine:
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~ Monthly BL Breakdown: February 2024 ~
🌱 Happy March!!! 🌷
Disclaimer: ALL shows can be streamed here or here, as well as on Youtube and other platforms. For more info on where to watch what, check out this post!
New breakdowns are coming at the end of every month - feel free to add stuff! -> previous breakdowns
What came out this month? (green = seen/currently watching)
🌟 Anti Reset - February 2nd (Taiwan)
🌟 Love Syndrome: The Beginning - February 8th (Thailand)
🌟 Baka Pwede pa? - February 9th (Philippines)
🌟 War of Y: The Reunion (special episode) - February 10th (Thailand)
🌟 1000 Years Old - February 14th (Thailand)
🌟 My Strawberry Film - February 16th (Japan)
🌟 A Secret Love - February 17th (Thailand)
🌟 To Be Continued - February 19th (Thailand)
🌟 Unknown - February 24th (Taiwan)
🌟 Wedding Impossible - February 26th (South Korea)
🌟 Kiseki Chapter 1 & Chapter 2 - February TBA (Thailand)
�� Ambiguous - February TBA (South Korea)
Monthly likes/dislikes
❣️ I'm gonna have to list Cherry Magic and Cooking Crush again just because they filled me with so much serotonin lol. Truly beautiful productions, so carefully written, so well executed and with so much wholesomeness and so many green flags lol. I had the best time watching them and the fact that 2 OG pairs had comeback shows back to back gave me so much nostalgia lol, especially since the genre is reminiscent of their old shows. It's been a blissful and therapeutic few months and I'm extremely sad that it's over 😩🥺🫶🏻 A+ content from everyone involved. 12/10 for both.
👎🏻 It has been a year lmao a lot of things happened this month, the Pawin situation makes me sad, we don't know what actually happened but the whole thing is messed up either way. James dropping out of LUAT came as a surprise as well, I'm not a NetJames fan but if they really had a falling out like the rumors say then that's sad. Singto coming back to gmm has been a nice surprise amongst the scandals lol but other than that I hope things go uphill after this 🥺
New series & movie announcements
🎥 My Bias is Showing (manwha adaption) - Date TBA (South Korea)
🎥 All About Lust - Date TBA (South Korea)
🎥 A Balloon's Landing - Date TBA (Taiwan)
🎥 Roommates - Date TBA (South Korea)
🎥 Good Night to Get Drunk - Date TBA (South Korea)
🎥 First Note of Love - Date TBA (Taiwan)
🎥 Living With Him - Coming April 11th (Japan)
🎥 The Young Gangster - Coming 2025 (Taiwan)
Other news from the BL world
❗️ Actor Singto Prachaya has returned to GMMTV as an artist. He previously left the company in 2021 to work as a freelance actor & producer after being under contract for nearly 5 years. It is unknown whether he will be part of any projects of the 2024 lineup.
❗️ The Thai BL Playboyy is getting a second season.
❗️ The upcoming Korean series High School Return of a Gangster announced the removal of the original BL plot. The show will air as a censored version, focusing on the friendship between the male leads.
❗️ Actors Charles Tu (HIStory 4) and Michael Chang (My Tooth Your Love) were confirmed to star in the upcoming BL First Note of Love. The series tells the story of a musician who is struggling with stage fright and one of his fans. An air date has not been announced.
❗️ Actor Non Ratchanon will no longer partake in the upcoming BL Live in Love. In an official statement, the production company stated that the decision was made due to disagreements between his agency and the one representing his co-star Hearth Chindanai. A recast for his role has yet to be announced.
❗️ GMMTV actor Win Pawin was accused of physically assaulting his ex-girlfriend, who made public allegations with photo evidence of her wounds. As a result GMMTV released a statement announcing the suspension of Pawin from all further work activities until legal investigations are complete. This lead to him making a public statement saying he is withdrawing from the upcoming BL We Are. He was cast as one of the 8 protagonists and was paired with his former partner Marc Pahun. GMMTV released a followup statement today, announcing Pawin's character would be recast to newbie Poon Mitpakdee.
❗️ Actor James Supamongkon announced his withdrawal from the upcoming Domundi BL Love Upon a Time. He released a statement on Twitter, saying he wants to expand his career and focus on other projects as an artist apart from acting. The company stated that Net and the others will stay part of the cast and that a new partner for Net will be cast shortly. This caused a big uproar amongst the fans who have been waiting for the series since it was announced over a year ago. Whether James' dropping out has anything to do with a dispute between him and Net is not confirmed.
Upcoming series & movies for March
👉🏻 Love is Better the Second Time Around - March 5th (Japan)
👉🏻 Deep Night - March 7th (Thailand)
👉🏻 Two Worlds - March 21st (Thailand)
👉🏻 High Demand - March 23rd (Thailand)
👉🏻 Wuju Bakery - March TBA (Thailand)
👉🏻 The Star - Date TBA (Thailand)
👉🏻 Blossom Campus - March TBA (South Korea)
👉🏻 Jazz for Two - March TBA (South Korea)
#doreens monthly bl breakdown#thai bl#bl drama#upcoming bl#update#bl news#what a month it has been ffs#cancellations; withdrawals; comebacks; censorships...#whats next#ugh#also another kbl censoring? what is this china??? fml#im getting tired of the BL world i just want my lesbians djkgdf#23.5 came at the right time#big sigh
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a note from mink
hello and welcome 💖 i am the lady of this mess, and this is where i write and post whatever i like — akin to a frantic spinster living in a weathered victiorian house filled with clutter. feel free to take a look around while i bare my soul 🙏🏻❤️🔥 you’ll find music, memes, fan art, fan fiction, and pretty stuff. i hope you enjoy your time here. i certainly do 😈✨
i am open to taking requests, as my imagination doesn’t always want to cooperate with me. all i ask is to please be as specific as you can (i thrive off context lol) and bear with me as i am a corporate shill and have to write between business hours 🫠
my sincerest thanks to any and all who read what i’ve made. it’s very humbling and i’m never not overwhelmed by your likes, comments, and reblogs 🥺💖 it truly sends my soul to another dimension
requests: momentarily closed (work is killing me y’all)
current hyper-fixation: hazbin hotel
currently writing for: hazbin hotel || MDNI 18+
masterlist under the cut
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
series: chapter ten: part two coming soon ❤️🔥
Love and Power: Alastor x Fem!Reader
status: ACTIVE || SLOW BURN || EXPLICIT
prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two
one shots:
Homebodies { blurb }
Domestic!Alastor x GN!Reader || FLUFF
Ptolemaea
Nun!Alastor x Demon!Lucifer || EXPLICIT
Velocity { blurb }
Alastor x Lucifer || FLUFF
Dissemblers
Human!Mafia AU Alastor x Lucifer || EXPLICIT
requests:
Alastor x Playful GN!Reader { blurb } || FLUFF
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AHHHHHHH- YOURE BACK YIPPIE!! 🙌🙌🙌
Anywho, mind the intro, if you haven’t done anything for Ghost within the courting series yet…
Imagine Ghost as a feline of sorts, like.. a black panther or a lion. Just a silly little guy. He’d be the type of cat that’s got that judgemental look until they see their favourite person and their eyes get all big.
Type of guy that loves to wrestle for play, and provides food/gifts for his S/O. Typical dead mouse on the doorstep type of gift.
He wouldn’t be much into physical contact, but god would he melt when his chin is scratched of his ears are gently rubbed. And rather than holding hands, he’d constantly have his tail wrapped around your arm or leg. The small purrs he would emit but deny.
Just a silly little guy all together, got that rescue cat energy to him<3
Anywho, love your work and be sure to take care of yourself!!<33
- 🪶
Black Panther Ghost Courting Headcanons
Ghost does give very much sheltered cat vibes once the two of you are in a settled relationship lol. It was a bit difficult at first because he had a hard time showing affection to you in normal ways. The main indicator of him liking you was on missions, he’d present to you a kill and wait until you said something, especially if it was someone who in turn was going to hurt you. If you praise him he’ll croon but he won’t tell you what the noise means. If you question him on why he brought it he’ll just hum and turn away. After putting the puzzle pieces together it was just him trying to show off that he can protect you.
Once he knows that the two of you are comfortable with each other, it’s practically a mess. Your bed sheets and pillow covers are ripped up from his claws because it’s his way of marking your room as his territory as well. He always apologizes but the smug look in his eyes show that he’s not actually sorry and that the next time you buy new ones, he’ll do it again. Along with that, he’ll curl his tail onto your leg during meetings, or anywhere. To him it’s the easiest way of telling others to back off without actually saying anything. If you try to catch him off guard by grabbing it he’ll smack your hand away and scold you for it later, he can’t be caught lacking in front of the soldiers, he’s got a reputation to uphold.
Ghost is a big fan of training because he always forgets how big and heavy he truly is. Something in his brain switches and he views training as a way to just play and mess around with you. The more you fight back, the more adrenaline he feels. And if he wins he’ll be a good sport about it, of course he takes it seriously for your sake by also giving out pointers. But training always gives him a rush because there really are no hard feelings in it. If your body isn’t too sore by the end of it he’ll allow a break in the comfort of your room, letting you lay on top of his chest as the two of you try to regain your energy. His gross skull mask will be off, but you’ll have to peel the balaclava halfway up if you wanna give him chin scratches. His stubble feels weird but it’s also a part of the charm when he gets comfortable and starts rubbing his face all over you.
It’s cute that when he truly is comfortable he’ll start purring unconsciously, his tail slightly swinging back and forth on the bed. He’ll start kneading at your back, and it’s not until you start giggling does he notice his lovesick behavior, which ultimately makes him stop. If you whine and complain for him to continue, he’ll deny anything even happened and get up to go make tea or something, anything to distract him from how red his face is from being caught. I feel like Ghost is a really petty guy so it’s best to not say anything or he will make sure he never does it in front of you again.
#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#x reader#cod headcanons#ghost x reader#ghost headcanons#request :)#🪶anon#cod x gn reader#cod x gn!reader#gn reader#call of duty x gn reader#call of duty x y/n#call of duty x you#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#wroowww I feel so special#shoutout 🪶 anon you're so real#I promise i'll work on odler request#i am catching up shawtybaes#it’s also 2 am rn#i LOVE writting courting im honna do#hyena soap next jsut you wait and see
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Instagram AU: One of the Boys Part 1
Summary: YN is best friends with Trevor and by proxy has become "one of the boys" with him, the Hughes brothers, and Cole
Pairings: Reader & Jack Hughes, Reader & Trevor Zegras, Reader & Quinn Hughes, Reader & Luke Hughes, and Reader & Cole Caufield
Notes: I’m starting a little series! Haven’t decided who the reader ends up with yet so lmk if you have any preference! Also may write actual fics for this if there’s interest 🫶 All pics from Pinterest - credit to owners!
Tag list:(join here or lmk if you want to be tagged in this series specifically) **[I messed up the form at first and forgot to have a place for urls and someone filled it out but since there was no url idk who it was 😭 I'm sorry!! If you filled out my form and were not tagged in this pls redo it!] @sammiejane22 @jackhues
Liked by jackhughes, lhughes_06, _quinnhughes, trevorzegras, and others
yourusername: I love these dorks. Thanks for letting me crash guys weekend!
Tagged _quinnhughes, jackhughes, lhughes_06, trevorzegras
View top comments
jackhughes: which one of you fuckers took that last pic
⇢ _quinnhughes: Wasn’t me
⇢ lhughes_06: Nah man not me
⇢ jackhughes: @/trevorzegras I SWEAR TO GOD
⇢ trevorzegras: 👀
⇢ yourusername: 😂 Thanks Z!!
Liked by trevorzegras
_quinnhughes: Feel free to crash guys weekend any time 😌
⇢ yourusername: You’re only saying that because I made pancakes
⇢ _quinnhughes: No…
⇢ lhughes_06: No we definitely like your company… and food…
Liked by yourusername
trevorzegras: I won twister for anyone who cares
⇢ _quinnhughes: No one cares
⇢ yourusername: I care! 🙋♀️
Liked by trevorzegras
lhughes_06: Kay but who do you love the most?
⇢ yourusername: I plead the fifth
⇢ fan1: We all know it’s Z!
Liked by yourusername
fan3: OMG JACK AND YN DOING FACEMASKS TOGETHER PLEASE THATS SO CUTE
- fan10: I ship it!!!!
Liked by yourusername, jackhughes, _quinnhughes, lhughes_06, colecaufield, and others
Trevorzegras: This is the love I get
Tagged jackhughes and yourusername
View top comments
_quinnhughes: Cuz no one invited you
⇢ trevorzegras: YN invited me
⇢ _quinnhughes: @/yourusername why
⇢ yourusername: He said he’d buy me ice cream
jackhughes: 😂
Liked by trevorzegras
lhughes_06: Wow that’s the love I get from Jack too
⇢ trevorzegras: Twinning 👯♂️
yourusername: Lol love you Z
⇢ trevorzegras: Yeah yeah 🙄
colecaufield: Brutal
⇢ trevorzegras: Truly the worst 😔
fan6: Omg first the face masks now this??
⇢ fan8: Sibling behaviour omg
⇢ fan3: Or couple behaviour 👀
⇢ fan6: Nah they’re clearly just friends
⇢ fan2: Idk some of the pics look a bit sus
Liked by jackhughes, colecaufield, trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, lhughes_06, and others
yourusername: “This is the love I get”
Tagged trevorzegras
colecaufield: Got him 😂
Liked by yourusername
trevorzegras: You’re literally also flipping me off
⇢ yourusername: 🤷♀️
lhughes_06: Lol did you banish her to the backseat or sth
⇢ trevorzegras: Nah Jack called shotgun
⇢ yourusername: He cheated though!! Covered my mouth before I could say anything
⇢ lhughes_06: 😂
⇢ jackhughes: All's fair in love war and car rides
_quinnhughes: Get wrecked
⇢ trevorzegras: Why do you hate me
⇢ _quinnhughes: 🤷♂️
⇢ yourusername: He secretly loves you Z. Told me when we were drunk at the lake house
⇢ trevorzegras: OH???
⇢ _quinnhughes: @/yourusername I TOLD YOU THAT IN CONFIDENCE
⇢ yourusername: 😇
fan2: They’re so cute 😭
#nhl social media au#nhl insta edit#hockey social media au#hockey insta edit#jack hughes x reader#luke hughes x reader#quinn hughes x reader#trevor zegras x reader#cole caufield x reader#nhl x reader fancition#nhl reader insert#hockey x reader fanfiction#hockey reader insert
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The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 16
Howdy folks,
I went into a state of psychosis this week and read a truly absurd amount of fics... again. I don't even know where I'm finding the time, truly, but here we are. I didn't spend as much time keeping up with the WIPs I'm reading, so honestly that's probably it. Also I had a lil monsterfucking moment one day this week. I'll highlight those green so if you want to avoid reading the summaries/thots on those they're easy to spot.
You can find my Spreadsheet here and all my previous recs here! Do feel free to tag me in your works and I will happily give them a look and most likely you'll see them here the next week!
Recs below the behind the scenes Joel!
SNAFU - a Frankie series by @theywhowriteandknowthings
The Triple Frontier boys as Shifters!!! This honestly makes so much sense? Like they work SO well with this dynamic. I adore Pope and Reader's bond like right out of the gate. What I really, really fucking loved though was Reader and Frankie, of course. I love how they characterized him and I really love the way that Frankie and reader bonded over time. Frankie being grumpy is so fun lol. A lot of the little details in this fic are what really make it good, ya know? The pack dynamics, the bonding moments, the badass reader, reader's uhhh issue (spoiler, I think, so I'll be quiet here) but yeah. Just. Wonderful. Can't wait for more.
only daddy that'll walk the line - a Joel one shot by @millerscoffee
So this request was sent to two different blogs and I read them both and loved them both. I read this one first. I really fucking loved Reader's dynamic with Joel in this. Joel is such a dick lmao. I thought the situation with reader's dad was done well and I also loved the hinting at Joel's trauma. And of course... the smut. God that was hot. Joel is so fucking dominant. The spitting? please. and Reader keeping up the brat thing just really fucking makes it. She needed Daddy Joel to make her behave lmao. SO GOOD
Little Bee - a Joel one shot by @atticrissfinch
And this is the other version of this request that I read. I related to the specifc brand of Daddy Issues in this one lmao. Dad who doesn't want you so you look for a protective older man (why am I like this). I loved the way reader antagonized Joel in this. The denture comment is hilarious. The bee motif is fuckin great, also. I like that Joel kind of initiates things in the mess hall. The smut is so god damn hot man. Like jesus fucking christ. And then the post nut clarity really made me giggle. "should not have done that" PLS
Closer - a Joel series by @beardedjoel
Hot neighbor!joel!! This is a smut marathon style fic with a good bit of feelings. The smut is sooooo good!! I really liked her friend Sofia too. I'm about halfway through this and I can't wait to see how reader and joel's relationship develops!
Rises the Moon - a Joel one shot by @psychedelic-ink
(monsterfucking, but you're the monster! also monster is being used very loosely here) mermaid reader x lighthouse operator joel!!! I really enjoyed this. The mermaid reader was super interesting. I wanted to know more about her background, honestly. And the way poor lonely Joel so desperately wanted to care for her UGH. It was seriously lovely. I also really liked how reader didn't commit to like... giving up being a mermaid for him (even just once a month), and he didn't ask her to. The ending is really lovely. (And the smut is hot idc if I couldn't quite imagine how it worked, it was perfect).
Playing with fire - a Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters
Super hot smutty lil dad's best friend one shot. I love when Joel gets all pissy. Makes me want to tease him even more lmao
Cupid's Chokehold - a Din one shot by @deathwife
I haven't read a body swap fic before and I must say the dynamic with it being Din, so reader can't see his face even though it's her face, and also the smut was just like... really good. I was fascinated the whole time + the smut was hot as hell. It's really fun to read it from the perspective of the dick owner lmao. I really adored their relationship and just overall thought this was lovely. Reader calls Din "Djarin" so if you're like me and marrying Din would give you an awful name (Din Gin....), you're not alone. <3
I think i know - a Joel one shot by @pascalisbaby
OMG Reader's sister is so mean in this she fucking deserves Joel cheating on her. Yes this is Sister's Husband!Joel. And yes it's really fucking hot. Reader is a menace to fucking society in this prancing around half naked and seducing a married man and I support every second of it. I know what Joel said at the end but I think he'll be back for more....
close your eyes, pay the price for your paradise - a Joel/Tommy series by @ozarkthedog
Raider (?) Tommy and Joel are so fucking hot. Read the warnings on this one kids, it's gonna be a rough one. Nothing happens in this part though, really. Basically you're stranded on the road (post outbreak / pre tess) and Joel and Tommy roll up in their truck and take you to their cabin.
a day in the filth - a Joel one shot by @toxicanonymity
This is pure filth, as the title implies. It would seem you're Joel's little sex toy, essentially. Brat tamer!Daddy!Joel. There's a lot going on here and it is all unreasonably hot.
Bodily Exchange - a Pero Tovar one shot by @absurdthirst
I finally caved a read a mafia fic and somehow it wasn't Joel. I really loved how much of a fucking dick Tovar was and how bratty reader was. The end was so much sweeter than expected, which was a nice surprise. Such a filthy fic with a sweet happy ending!
New York or Nowhere - a Joel series by @beskarandblasters
BODEGA JOEL!!! I love when you're trying to help your friend come up with a fic based on a very specific request and somehow you come up with a completely different fic altogether. New York transplant Joel owns Beldro's Deli. You think he's really hot but your friends think he's a creep. I personally think if he's a little bit of a creep that just makes it better, but then again I'm a little insane <3
Shiver and Shake - a Joel one shot by @multiversed-daydreamer
I have ADHD and literally do the thing where I have thought spirals during sex. I loved this take on that experience and mean ol dom Joel being there to bring your focus back where it belongs (on him). Super fucking hot ugh. And it was their first TLOU fic and I thought the QZ Joel characterization was spot on <3
Roads - a Joel series by @milla-frenchy
Baby's first fic!! So you grew up with Tommy, best friends and all that. You get to know Joel as an adult and there's a spark right away. The first installment here takes place 3 years before present day, after Joel breaks your heart and you literally move to get away from him. The promise of so much angst has me salivating almost as much as the really hot smut.
Promise - an Ezra one shot by @criticallyacclaimedstranger
MONSTERFUCKING! I had a little binge this week.. you'll see. Anyway Ezra is a literal actual dragon in this with a big ol dragon dick and everything. This fic includes so many wild ass kinks I simply do not (or did not know I?) have. And yet I still loved it. Thought it was super fucking hot. I really liked the imagery of the castle and the bedroom. Also the end was kind of sweet?
Common Courtesies - a Din one shot by @juletheghoul
More monsterfucking -- demon!din! I fucking love Pride and Prejudice. Jane Austen in general. Mr. Darcy is one of the literary loves of my life. This little Pride and Prejudice-esque Demon!Din fic hit every mark. I loved it so much. Din is so charming and mysterious and sexy ugh. I would marry him in a heartbeat.
Solum - a Dave York one shot by @ezrasbirdie
You guessed it! Monsterfucking. Demon!Dave York!!! I really enjoyed the blending of the movie plot with the demon arc! It was so well done!! Dave was super sexy in this ugh. I too feel a strange pull toward extremely dangerous men covered in blood. Reader gets me. I am her. She is me. Demon!Dave can take me as his little human sex toy any day, idc. I also kind of loved that he was so sweet on Carol in this? Like usually in Dave fics he kinda hates her or cheats on her or she's his ex, but in this one the whole catalyst was keeping her and his girls safe. Very sweet.
Sell My Soul For You - a Marcus P one shot by @absurdthirst
--monsterfucking-- Marcus is so sweet. So sweet that Reader is getting a little aggravated he can't be a less sweet in bed. (Girl have you tried like... talking to him about it?) Anyway, sweet, impulsive, reckless Marcus finds out you feel this way via buttdial and does he like... work on it with you and slowly learn to be better? No. He goes out and sells his soul to a demon to be a better Dom. Idiot. He's cute tho, so I'll let it slide. The smut is super fucking unreasonably hot, of course.
Bad Moon Rising - a Jack series by @wardenparker
--werewolf!Jack-- This fic is actually so fucking sweet!! So part one, Reader doesn't know Jack is a werewolf and he just kinda shows up on her ranch and they hit it off immediately. There's lots of lovely animal references and stuff and it's all really hot. I love the plot too!! this is not just werewolf porn! Shit is incredible! I love the characterization. But anyway if you're not into monsterfucking just read part one. Part two tho... oh boy. Full on werewolf sex. And reader has a kink for it! She's just like me fr.
Kudzu - an Ezra one shot by @beskarberry
--weird alien hybrid ezra-- I have lots of emotions about this fic. First of all, read the warnings. They're extensive and they're there for good reason. I love a good horror fic, which is kind of what this felt like? Like the weird tension and unknowing and the freaky way Ez is talking and that arm. I was thoroughly freaked out (and I love that!!). There were so many clever and interesting things going on in this fic AHHHH, Oh and the ending is just like super sweet and wonderful and so good? The end balances out the kind of horrific nature of the rest of the fic. Also if any of that sounds insulting I really don't mean it that way, I promise. I went in to it expecting to be freaked out and it delivered so well.
Yes Father - a Joel series by @chloeangelic
Your boring catholic husband doesn't fuck you right and you really want to leave him, so Father Joel helps you satisfy your needs so you don't destroy your marriage and go to hell. I love blasphemy. It's hot idc. I think my favorite thing about it is Father Joel randomly admonishing you for foul language and taking the lord's name in vain while he's literally got some part of his body buried in yours. I giggled. I really adore this. It was super fun and super hot.
Pillow Talk - a Joel one shot by @theboredinsomniac
Joel is soooo the jealous type. This fic is basically y'all having an adult conversation about him being an insecure jealous little bitch and it's got the most adorable ending.
Born to Run - a Marcus Pike series by @whataperfectwasteoftime
Penny's Marcus is just perfect. Every damn time. Unless I'm mistaken, this was her first Marcus fic? I was in the mood for a sweet multichapter thing with some hot smut and I was sooooo not disappointed by this. I'm on chapter 8 now, so about halfway through. Marcus is so sweet and precious and still impulsive as ever, but unlike Theresa, reader is right there with him. I really adore that this fic takes place in KY (and it really captures the vibe of Kentucky too) since I'm from there! I very much do not relate to the fact that reader is a marathon runner, but that's okay. I think it's really cool and I love the way they meet and that Marcus isn't fully a white knight? She can take care of herself. Super fucking cute fic ugh. Oh yeah and the smut is to die for jesus christ Marcus is hot.
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Happy Reading!
#fic recs#the spreadsheet digest#fanfiction recommendations#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro fics#pedro pascal character fanfiction
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Cove isn't the stepdad, he's the dad who stepped up: Baxter's POV
A companion story (lol) to my silly little series about MC ending up with Cove after Baxter impregnated her in Step 3 then disappeared. Baxter is their wedding planner, finds out about the kid, and angsty ensues.
But like so much angst. An absurd amount, really.
Latest part of the series here, with links to the first two!
Baxter was a deeply pathetic man -- he knew that. He'd never tried to fool himself into believing any different.
He had countless reasons for hating himself, but none of them cut quite as deeply as being reunited with you and learning about what he could have had.
The pain came in waves -- seeing you after all this time was the knife to his heart, and every additional detail was a twist of the blade. You were with Cove. And you were beautifully, hopelessly in love with him. And you were getting married.
But if all that pain was a knife, then learning that you'd had a child and piecing together that that child was his? That was a landmine. It blew him to pieces.
It happened so quickly, and he could tell you hadn't meant to tell him. After hearing that you and Cove had a son, he'd only asked how old he was. It didn't take a scholar to work out the math -- with his age, there was no way he wasn't the father.
Usually so quick witted, he'd completely frozen at the realization. Before he could unthaw himself, you and Cove had left his office, and he was alone. As always.
He finished the rest of his workday in a haze, and he must have driven himself home safely because the next thing he knew, he was unlocking the door to his apartment.
The thing was that it was just such a deeply ironic mess -- if he was truly honest with himself, a real family was really all he'd ever wanted. And to think that he could have possibly had that with you and a baby, a little piece of him and you that he could have watched grow and learn and change and love, but he didn't even give himself the chance because he'd convinced himself long ago that he didn't deserve it ... it was maddening.
After a bit of restless wandering, Baxter pulled out his phone and found your contact information. Even though he'd never responded to your attempts to reach out or even read the texts you'd sent, he never brought himself to delete your number.
"Please call me, it's important," you'd written about a month after he left. There were a few of those -- "seriously, call me," "Pick up the phone, I need to talk to you," "I really really need you to talk to me."
The last message you'd sent was the longest and was sent a couple of months later. In that one, you'd told him that you were pregnant, that the baby was his, and that you were scared and didn't know what to do. The desperate plea had been in his phone for nearly five years.
He put the phone back in his pocket.
Baxter didn't sleep last night, instead opting to drink coffee and ruminate on what could have been -- a familiar pastime. At one point he ended up in his guestroom, imagining it with a crib and then a toddler bed, maybe a twin bed now if the boy was big enough. Toys on the floor, tiny little clothes in the drawer. He imagined himself kneeling on the floor here, playing with his son or telling him bedtime stories. He imagined standing in the doorway with you, watching him fall asleep before heading to bed together.
In reality, it was a guestroom that had never and would never see any guests -- another testament to how pitiful he was.
It was a nice, bittersweet break from reality while it lasted.
He was on the balcony, looking mindlessly over the city when his alarm went off on his phone. He stumbled back inside and got ready for work. By the time his shift was over and he gotten back to his empty apartment, he was almost delirious, and so naturally that's when he decided it would be a good idea to call you.
"Hello?" you answered.
"Hello," Baxter replied, willing himself to sound calm and relaxed.
"I'm sorry we left like that yesterday, but everything is fine," you told him. "I'm still not sure when we'll be able to reschedule our appointment, if you still even want --"
He cut you off as politely as possible, saying, "I actually wasn't calling about the wedding, if that's all right."
In a stilted, scared voice he was sure sounded ridiculous, he tried to ask about your son. He didn't want to outright ask what he wanted to know, but you were able to pick up on what he was getting at.
And you, understandably, were furious.
He listened as you tore him apart for leaving you like he did and for ignoring you after. You sounded like you were as angry as if it had happened five days ago, not five years, but considering the seriousness of the circumstances, he didn't think that was that unusual.
You called him a coward. He didn't say anything, but he knew you were right.
At the end, all he could do was apologize. He'd wanted to know the truth, but he hadn't thought about what to do with it once he'd gotten it.
Somehow, he had the nerve to ask for a picture.
You were always nicer to him than you should have been, and so seconds later, he heard his phone ping in his hand. He pulled it down and opened the message you'd sent, and there it was.
Baxter took in the photo, as painful as it was. The boy in the picture had dark hair, warm brown eyes and he noticed a small mole on his wrist -- he'd noticed it because he had one there as well. The resemblance was undeniable. This was his son.
He wasn't aware he'd started crying until he heard the sounds he was making. Even then, he was lost in the picture you'd sent, another wave of what could have been washing over him. What if he knew this boy? What if he'd called him Dad?
Your voice cut through his thoughts, and he heard you say, "I have to go. Dylan is waking up from his nap."
"His name is Dylan?" he asked.
"Yes. I ... I'll talk to you later, I guess," you replied, then hung up.
At that, he sunk to the floor, letting his phone drop somewhere beside him. He wasn't sure if seeing the boy and learning his name had made it better or worse. Then again, he couldn't really imagine feeling worse.
Utterly exhausted in every conceivable way, Baxter eventually picked himself off the ground and made his way into his bedroom. He peeled his clothes off and climbed under the covers of his bed, willing sleep to take him immediately. He wasn't that lucky.
Instead, he laid in the quiet, the last light of the day streaming through the windows. He laid on his side and put a hand on the empty space beside him, just under the extra pillow that was there for no one.
He closed his eyes and imagined you there, your skin just as warm and as soft as when he last felt it. He pictured his arm around you, rising and falling with your breath, and that imaginary movement was enough to lull him to sleep.
#our life beginnings and always#olba#our life#olba mc#baxter ward#olba baxter#baxter x mc#baxter x reader#baxter x you#olba baxter ward#our life baxter ward#our life baxter#cove holden#olba cove#baxter angst#is there such a thing as too much angst?#yes and this is it right here
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stupid move · jjk (m)
— summary; you manage to trick jungkook and he is not happy about it.
pairing; jungkook x f. reader
word count; 4,838
rating; 18+
content; drabble for risqué
timeline; during pt 3
warnings; dirty talk, grinding, making out, ✨the handcuffs✨ make a comeback, handjob, oral (m. receiving), edging, jk is strong, rough unprotected sex, fingering, choking, light biting, cream pie
a/n; this idea came to me one morning and i haven’t been able to get it out of my head since so here ya go ;) pls note this is heavily unedited so ignore my typos and whatever you may stumble upon lol enjoy!!
➵ series masterlist · risqué tag · playlist
Jungkook really shouldn’t be coming to your dorm this often.
Someone could notice him coming and going; it’s risky and gossip travels fast around this part of the city. Someone could know someone who talks to someone who works for your father and before Jungkook knows it, his boss – also known as your father – knows about you and him.
But Jungkook can’t bring himself to care as your tongue slips past his lips and your slightly cold hands slide underneath his t-shirt; oval-shaped, sky blue fingernails scratching the skin of his torso. His own hands are cupping your face, fingers tangled in your hair as a low moan leaves his lips. You swallow it, continuing to grind against the growing bulge in his pants.
“Fucking hell,” he breathes when you pull away to leave kisses down his jaw and neck, teeth digging into his skin and tongue lapping over the area right after in a soothing manner.
A small smirk spreads across your face as you move further down, your eyes closed in bliss as you enjoy yourself; touching, kissing, licking his skin. You sneak a glance up at Jungkook as you slide his t-shirt up his torso, revealing his nicely tanned, toned body. He’s gripping the bed frame of your bed, knuckles slightly white from his tight grip as he takes deep breaths, floating in pleasure as you brush your lips over his skin, leaving random kisses until you reach the waistband of his pants.
Feeling like a tease, you kiss just along the waistband and brush your fingers over his clothed bulge, earning low hisses of curse words. But instead of continuing and touching him where he wants it the most, you leave his pulsing length be and move back up. Jungkook is already glaring at you when you hover above him, flashing an innocent yet teasing smile at him.
“You’re a tease, you know that, right?” He huffs, obviously annoyed at your lack of touch.
You shrug and smirk softly, leaning down to softly kiss his lips, “don’t act like you don’t love it.”
Before he can comment on the attitude, you close the few inches of distance between you, kissing him deeply. Another moan escapes him as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, your tongue meeting his halfway. Your hips move, grinding against him, hands pushing his t-shirt up until it’s pulled over his head and dropped onto the floor next to your tiny twin-bed.
You can’t help but pull away from his lips, just enough to sit back and look at him – tanned skin, toned body, tattoos, and dark strands of hair a tousled mess on top of his head, pink and oh so kissable lips, slightly swollen from the many kisses you’ve exchanged since he stepped into your dorm room. His darkened eyes watch you as you bite your bottom lip to prevent a smile from spreading across your face, a feeling of pride filling you as you stare at him, realizing that he’s yours.
Truly, secretly, yours.
If only you could keep him locked up here in your dorm, away from other girls’ hungry eyes. You’re not one to share – an effect of being an only child with a pair of well-paid parents – and you’d be damned if anyone ever tried to take him away from you.
A sudden idea pops into your mind as Jungkook’s hands slide up the expanse of your thighs, giving them a squeeze as if to bring you back to present time. He offers you a small smile, one that has your heart skipping a beat as you let him pull you back down, mouth clashing against his in another needy kiss. One of your hands grabs his jaw, keeping his face in place as you kiss him, moaning against his mouth as you grind down on his bulge once again, feeling him underneath you.
Your panties must be a mess at this point, so wet you’ll be able to squeeze it out of them.
As Jungkook's hands wander your body, his mind is occupied and filled with you and you only. You take this as your opportunity to reach over to the drawer in your nightstand, opening it slowly and retrieving what you know you left in there. As soon as the plastic touches your fingertips, you grab it. Jungkook pays it no mind as you reach for his hands, pulling them away from your ass to intertwine them with yours.
“Baby…” He breathes against your lips, breathing ragged as you continue to grind down on him, a moan slipping from your own lips in response to his breathy nickname. “I’m gonna come in my pants if you don’t stop moving like-”
His voice gets trapped in his throat, words coming to a halt as the sound of pink, plastic handcuffs being locked interrupts him. He stills underneath you, letting out a defeated sigh as you smirk proudly at your work. He glances up, eyes focusing on what he expected to see – pink, heart shaped handcuffs locked around his wrists, making it impossible for him to touch you.
You’re full on grinning when he looks back at you, shrugging as if to tell him ‘whoops’. A low, annoyed groan escapes him the moment you get off him. You step back from the bed, raking your eyes over him with a smile on your face. He watches with a scowl as you reach for the hem of your top, pulling it over your head in a swift move, revealing your flimsy, lace bralette.
“____,” he calls, a tone of annoyance hidden in his voice. “Get me out of these.”
You hum as you reach around to unclasp your bralette, pretending to think as you remove the flimsy material and revealing your chest. Jungkook’s scowl deepens when the word ‘no’ promptly leaves your pretty lips, his eyes shifting from your face to your perky breasts and back to your face again.
“I wanna have some fun,” you tell him as a matter of fact, pushing down your fitness shorts until you’re able to step out of them, leaving you in just a small, barely there, pink thong. Jungkook swears under his breath as he watches with wide-blown eyes, dark irises focused on your practically naked body as you move closer to the bed again. He roams your body, hungrily eating you up with his eyes only as you crawl onto the bed, placing yourself on top of his lap like before. “Can't have you interrupting me,” you tell him, voice barely above a whisper.
Jungkook watches, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, as you lean down to leave kisses all over him. His nipples, chest and stomach, tracing the lines of his abs with your tongue before moving further down to the waistband of his pants for the second time today. Although, this time you actually hook your fingers inside and tug them down, revealing his hard cock. It slaps against his abdomen before settling there, a hiss leaving Jungkook as he drops his head onto your pillow.
“Oh, no,” you pout, glancing up at him with soft eyes, “that looks painful.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Jungkook grumbles.
Your eyes focus back on his cock, smiling to yourself as you watch it twitch under your gaze; hard and thick with prominent veins and a red, leaking tip. You feel your mouth watering as you slide your hands up his naked, toned thighs, nails digging into his skin as you lean down, kissing your way from the base of his cock and up to the tip. Jungkook lets out a raspy groan, abs contradicting under his skin as you wrap a hand around him, keeping it in place as you kitten lick the tip while looking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours.
“Want me to help you with this?” You ask, voice soft and sweet.
“____, I swear-” Jungkook growls lowly, not at all finding what you’re doing entertaining.
You kiss the tip of his cock, the precum sticking to your lips. Jungkook swears once again under his breath as he watches you lick it away, a soft moan slipping from you as the salty taste of it hits your tastebuds.
“Relax, Kook,” you coo softly, “I’ll take care of you.”
A throaty moan tumbles from Jungkook as you begin to pump his length with your fist, slowly and firmly just how he likes it. You know exactly what he likes. You also know what to do if you want to torture him for just a little while. And you do – you really want to torture him, just for a little while, as payback for the last time he tied you up with these exact handcuffs.
As your hand keeps pumping him, you wrap your lips around the tip, sucking softly as if it was a cherry lollipop. You moan around him causing him to moan in response, low and throaty as always. You sink further down on him, not pausing until his tip hits the back of your throat. Jungkook’s hips are bucking underneath your touch, chasing the friction as you begin to bop your head, sucking and licking, teeth scraping his skin softly in that way he likes.
“Fuck, baby-“ he groans, “you’re doing so good.”
The praise goes straight to your core as you suck and fist his cock, working him closer and closer to the edge. His cock twitches in your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat over and over, a gagging sound leaving you every once in a while.
“Shit, I’m close… don’t stop-”
Just as the words leave Jungkook’s lips, you pull off him, lips letting go with a ‘pop’ sound. Your hand keeps going on him but it’s back to torturously slow strokes, hand loose around his length. You smile sweetly up at him as he lifts his head to look at you in utter confusion. He’s panting above you, chest rising and falling in short, ragged breaths of air.
“What are you doing? Why did you stop?” He groans, visibly annoyed with how you took his orgasm away just when he was about to reach it.
You don’t reply, waiting for him to catch his breath before wrapping your mouth around him again, sinking down on him once more. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat again, red and sensitive, small slivers of cum dripping onto your tongue as you pull back, leaving just the tip inside of your mouth.
“God, I hate you so much right now,” Jungkook growls, head falling back onto your pillows.
You can’t help but smile as you pull off him entirely only to swirl your tongue around his tip, licking up all of the leaked cum.
“No, you don’t,” you hum softly.
He nods and sighs heavily, “I really do.”
You ignore his incorrect statement and repeat your actions from before you took away his orgasm, leaving him panting and moaning above you once again, teasing him to a point where he’s on the very edge but unable to come because you keep slowing down every time he’s about to reach breaking point, laughing quietly to yourself every time he swears and tugs at the handcuffs in protest.
“Oh, come on!” He groans, the hints of a whine in his voice as you pull away again, stealing his orgasm right in front of his nose. “____, you gotta stop doing that- I’m so fucking close to bursting my fucking load right now but I can’t because you. won’t. let. me-“
“Beg.”
It takes one word for you to cut him off, leaving him stunned for a short moment before he recovers, shaking his head while a non-humorous chuckle leaves him. Cute, he thinks to himself, you just told him to beg for it.
“No,” he scoffs with a mocking grin, “baby, I’m not begging for anything.”
“Fine,” you shrug nonchalantly, “I’ll just keep doing this then.”
You had expected him to say no, although it was worth a shot at least. Ignoring his demand of letting him come, you resume doing what you did before, working him closer and closer to the edge, only to snatch away his release before he can grasp it and let himself finish.
Again.
You’re well aware that Jungkook has had enough but nothing could ever prepare you for what comes next. Just as you want to go back to a slow pace, lips occasionally brushing the silky skin of his length, Jungkook growls deeply in pure frustration, tugging so hard at the handcuffs they break in two.
Shock paints your face but you barely get to open your mouth before Jungkook is flipping you over and pinning you to the bed, one of his hands tightly gripping your wrists above your head while the other hand closes around your throat. A shiver runs down your spine as you look him in the eye, your own surprised eyes meeting his darkened, furious ones.
“You think this is funny?” He rasps, lips brushing yours.
A soft grin spreads across your face, hints of tears brimming in your eyes from the way he tightens his hand around your throat. You manage to nod despite his tight hold, a smile lingering on your lips as you shrug, “a little, yeah.”
Jungkook is convinced you have no idea what you’re asking for with that attitude of yours and something about it is making him painfully hard, his cock twitching against your thigh as if it’s searching for your heat, to be buried in your warm wetness and pound into you until you’re crying out in pure pleasure.
A growl rumbles from his throat at your response, the glint in your eye he’s come to love and yet hate at the same time mocking him. The hand he has around your throat lets go, a heavy exhale escaping your lungs as he reaches down and guides himself to your entrance, slamming into you without warning.
The dirtiest, desperate moan he’s ever heard tumbles from your parted lips as he hits deeply inside of you, the tip brushing the very hilt as he fills you to the brim with his thick cock. He keeps himself composed despite how close he is to coming right now after being engulfed by your warm, drenched walls. Your pussy swallows his cock, sucking him in, tight and warm and so fucking wet.
“You’re behaving like a fucking brat,” he grits, pulling out only to slam back into you, earning another loud moan from you, his free hand moving to hold onto your hips as he pounds into you. “You don’t give a shit about the consequences, do you?”
You shake your head weakly, squirming beneath him, hoping and silently begging him to let go of your wrists so you can touch him, cling onto him, dig your nails into his scorching skin as he fucks you. A gasp leaves you as he reaches back up to close a hand around your throat, forcing you to look him in the eye.
“Well, guess what, baby?” Jungkook’s voice drops to a mocking, cooing voice as he brushes his lips against the shell of your ear. Goosebumps rise upon your skin as he whispers, “I don’t care about the consequences either.”
A moan is all he gets in response, a smirk spreading across his face. He knew you’d never be able to hold the dominating role for long. You’re already giving into him completely and he’s barely done anything. His ego is thriving right now, the sounds you make and the desperate movements of your hips in a desperate attempt to meet his thrusts halfway letting him know he’s doing his job right.
“I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk to class tomorrow,” he grunts, hand slightly tightening around your throat, his thumb pressing down on a certain spot that causes your airways to close just a bit, leaving you slightly lightheaded. “I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll be nothing but a hot mess, unable to think– fucked so stupid you’ll end up lost and confused in class even though you’re one of the smartest students there.”
Jungkook watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head as he delivers a harsh thrust into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin so lewd and loud that anyone walking by in the hallway would be able to hear.
“O-Oh my god,” you let out a soft whimpering cry as Jungkook picks up the pace of his hips, fucking and grinding into you. His thrusts are hard, rough and hard, unlike anything you’ve tried before.
Maybe spurring him on by tying him up and edging him wasn't such a bad idea after all.
“I’m gonna come-“
Jungkook shakes his head and scoffs out a chuckle, “you’re not coming until I say so.”
You whine when he slows down his thrusts, grinding into you in a tempo so slow that you can feel every inch of him sliding in and out, prominent veins brushing against your walls in a torturous pace. It’ll take you hours to come if he keeps going at this speed. You can feel your orgasm, you can practically see it but his slow thrusts aren’t nearly enough to make you come.
You need him to fuck you hard.
“Kook, please, I need-“
Jungkook grins mockingly, sitting himself up on his knees to look down at you. He keeps grinding into you, watching you writhe against the sheets, sweat coating your body and swollen lips parted in pleasure as you let out a pleading whine, a sound so desperate he can’t help but give you one hard thrust.
“Oh god! Kook, please-“
“Listen to yourself,” he scoffs, settling back into the slow pace. “Hear how fucking needy you sound?”
Your brain is mush at this point, you’re sure of it as you feel Jungkook’s hands sliding up your thighs to your hips and further up the sides of your body, sliding over every dip and curve of your gorgeous body. A whimper spills from your lips when he reaches your chest, large hands cupping your breasts and giving them a squeeze. He leans over you again, lips wrapping around a nipple while a hand caresses the other one.
“Jungkook- please, I need to come- please…” you cry when he bites your nipple, tugging at it before letting go.
Jungkook shakes his head, “I’m not sure a brat like you deserves to come after that little stunt you pulled before.”
You can’t help but groan in pure frustration, “I didn’t p-plan on dragging it out like that-“
“I don’t give a fuck about what you had planned, sweetheart,” he rasps, his face now only inches away from yours. “A needy little slut shouldn’t be pulling stupid moves like that if she can’t handle the consequences.”
The unwilling moan leaving you at his words has him smirking against your cheek, lips brushing your skin. You’re so fucking needy and desperate, so responsive to his degrading words – he loves it.
“Please…” you whimper, your eyes meeting his and Jungkook notices the brim of tears in them, about to flow over as you pant beneath him, so desperate for an orgasm you’re about to cry because of it.
“Aw, are you crying?” He coos, hand grabbing your jaw to keep your head in place as his eyes shift between yours. “Hm? Are you crying because I won’t let you come?”
You whimper and nod, not at all in the mood to be bratty about it anymore. You’re so on edge, so close to orgasming yet so far and Jungkook’s slow thrusts aren’t helping. If anything, they’re only making it worse and he knows that. You can tell he knows from the way he’s smirking at you, not at all caring that you’re painfully desperate for an orgasm.
One flick of your clit would be enough to push you over but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care as he continues the slow pace, grinding into you like he has all the time in the world.
“Jungkook… p-please…”
He watches with dark eyes as a few tears finally spill over, trickling down your cheeks as you whimper and whine, pleading and begging him to let you come.
“Promise me you won’t pull a stupid move like that again,” he states, pausing his movements as he hovers above you, hands tightly clutching the sheets on either side of your head. “Promise me and I’ll let you come.”
Another tear escapes, Jungkook eyes focusing on it as he waits for your promising words. You don’t regret pulling that stunt on him. If you hadn’t, he wouldn’t have fucked you roughly out of pure frustration. But you still feel incredibly defeated as he stares at you, not a single hint of softness in his eyes as he waits, trying to stay composed as he feels your walls compulsing around his length.
“Fine,” you huff in annoyance, sniffling softly. A short moment of soft touch overcomes Jungkook as he reaches up to wipe the dampness from your cheek.
“Fine what?” He urges you on.
You glare at him, hating that he’s forcing you to indirectly apologize for handcuffing him to your twin bed.
“I promise to not handcuff you again,” you mutter.
Jungkook smiles and leans down, kissing you for a short moment, causing your heart to skip a beat. Your hands instantly slide their way up to keep him in place, fingers sliding into his short, black hair as he kisses you, tongue meeting yours for the first time in a while. He’s breathing heavily when he pulls away, a soft smirk spreading across his lips.
“It’s nice to see you can be good when needed,” he chuckles, leaving you stunned. Although, there’s no time to react or respond before he’s pulling out, leaving just the tip inside before slamming back into you. Hard might you add.
A sinful moan tumbles from you and your back arches, taking every hard thrust he delivers like the good girl he knows you can be when you want to. Despite how bratty you act sometimes, you always end up behaving, following every demand and order Jungkook gives.
You can’t for the sake of your life stay bratty – he will always find a way to break your act.
“Fuck,” you whimper, teeth digging into your bottom lip to prevent yourself from crying out loud when he pulls one of your legs up, spreading you further, allowing himself to slide against your walls so deliciously. “Jungkook…”
Jungkook groans as your walls tighten around his cock, the way you just whimpered his name doing nothing to keep him from bursting his load inside of you sooner or later.
“How bad do you wanna come, mhm?” He asks, voice strained as he delivers hard thrust after another hard thrust, hitting every single sweet spot within you, filling you to the brim and slamming into you so hard you have to cling onto him.
“S-so bad… so fucking bad, Kook-“
He grunts, bringing a hand between your moving bodies, fingertips finding the spot where you’re connected. You jerk in surprise as his thumb pushes down on your clit, a gasping moan tumbling from your parted lips, nails digging even further into his skin as he adds pressure, circling his thumb on your clit.
“Oh- fuck,” you cry, feeling your long awaited orgasm coming at you with full force, crashing into you as soon as Jungkook picks up the speed of his thumb, rubbing circles onto your clit as he continues to fuck into you. “Oh god, oh god, oh- Kook!”
“See how fucking needy you are?” He grits.
The only response is a whimpering moan.
“You’re so desperate, baby,” he grins mockingly, “I can’t even touch you for one minute before you’re falling apart- what a needy, little… brat.”
White, hot pleasure shoots through your body, washing over you in tidal waves of burning, sinful pleasure. Moans and whimpers that sound just like Jungkook’s name emit from your lips as you squirm beneath him, hand tightly gripping his forearm as he pulls out and slips his pointer and middle finger inside of you instead, fingering you through your orgasm.
“Oh my god,” you breathlessly mutter, the buzzing feeling of an orgasm still running through your body as you come down. The hand on Jungkook’s forearm slides up his arm, to his shoulder and further up to the back of his head. Jungkook allows you to pull him down for a kiss; or rather a few of them.
“You okay?” He asks, pecking your lips once again.
You nod, humming out a response, too worn out to form words.
“Good,” Jungkook smirks, his eyes meeting yours as his hands slide over your thighs, giving them a squeeze before spreading them wider, placing himself at your entrance once again. “Cause I’m not done with you yet.”
Before you can protest, he slides back inside your warmth, slick wetness engulfing him, allowing him to bottom out without resistance. You gasp, whimpering softly as his length brushes your sensitive clit.
“Mind if I use this cute, little pussy of yours to get myself off?”
Jungkook’s question has your stomach flipping with excitement, vigorous nodding of your head giving him the go he needs to start fucking into you again, pace brutal and hard, fast and just perfect as he feels his pent up pleasure rushing towards him with so much force and speed that he fears it’ll be too much for him.
This is all your fault, he thinks to himself as he lets out a moan, hands pushing both your legs up to widen your hole. God, there’s just no way he’ll ever find a pussy this good ever again – not that he needs to find another one.
He wants this one, yours, forever.
“Kook…” you whimper from beneath him, hands reaching for him in a weak attempt to have him close. The pleading look in your eyes is enough to have him lean over you, chest against chest, mouth against mouth in hot, hungry kisses as he fucks you, working himself closer to the edge he’s been touching several times tonight.
“Fuck, _____-“ he grunts, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his hips stutter, your warm wetness and tightness making it impossible for him to last much longer. It only takes a few more thrusts until he’s stilling, painting your walls with hot, white cum. A low guttural groan escapes Jungkook’s lips as he empties himself inside of you, body falling limp on top of you.
Both of your heavy breathing fills the silence of your dorm room. A comfortable quiet atmosphere surrounds you as you allow yourself to run your hands up and down Jungkook’s back, sliding your hands all the way up into his short strands of black hair, fingernails scratching his scalp. A soft sigh leaves him as he relaxes entirely, his eyes closing as another type of pleasure runs through his body.
His hands move on their own accord, sliding up the sides of your body before settling on your upper arms, thumbs caressing the skin there.
You glance down, noticing the heart shaped plastic around his wrists. A small bit of metal chain dangles from both of them, looking slightly battered after he broke them in pure sexual frustration. The mere thought of him being so strong he can break that chain has your walls clenching. Jungkook lets out a soft groan as he feels it, his cock slowly softening within you after his intense orgasm.
“Baby, don’t do that-“ he mumbles into the skin of your neck, lips leaving soft, soft kisses there.
“I can’t believe you broke my handcuffs…” you tell him, staring at the hearts on his wrists, “they were so cute.”
Jungkook lifts his head, glancing at the plastic and then you before he shrugs as you pout at him, “if you hadn’t tied me up in the first place, you’d probably still have them.”
You can’t help but smile as you think about him naked and tied up with pink heart shaped handcuffs.
“Just admit it. You liked it.”
He scoffs, “____, I did not like being kept from touching you while you played with my dick like it was some toy-“
“It’s not?” You ask, fake shock painting your face. You try not to laugh at his deadpan expression. “Wow and here I was, convinced that your dick was my personal toy.”
Jungkook lets out a low growl, leaning in closer to you, his breath brushing over your lips. You smile sweetly at him.
“Careful, baby,” he says, small smirk playing upon his lips, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you haven’t been fucked hard enough.”
You match his smirk, shrugging, “maybe not.”
“You think you can handle worse?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
#risqué jjk#jungkook#jungkook smut#risque drabble#bts smut#bts#jungkook fanfic#drabble#bts jungkook#bts fanfic#jungkook x female reader#smut#kpop#kpop smut#kpop fanfic#bts bangtan#bangtan#bangtan boys#bangtan sonyeondan#bts x female reader#age gap au#18+ smut#jeon jungkook#jeon jeongguk#jeongguk#bts jjk
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Im in love with ur "she's a pro series"
Yena telling kunigami like "Uhm, eyes up here buddy" type of vibe. While with bastard muenchen, Yena starts trying to help Ness "Blossom" like the rose he is. 🤪💅
And while doing so, Kaiser is there like "NAH, HE MY SIDEKICK✋"
And MAYBE, Karasu, otoya and aiku ( the goofiest trio ) were spying on Yena and saw how kunigami was a perv and now are all " OOOOO, SOMEONE HAS A CRUSH" And kunigami's reaction i guess?
Sorry that this was long😅 i might have imagined a LIL too much💀
Thx!! Love and kisses💋❤️🤪💅 byebye!!
"Yo, she's a pro." ...part four
part one , part two , part three, ... , part five
Aw thanks, I'm glad you like it! Also about that blossoming, I had to think about Oliver's past and Kaiser's tattoo, so yeah lol
Bro your idea is LIT, and who am I to ignore you, my love? Also my friend wanted the reader to dance with Lavinho I guess? so yea
Your name: Yena Hideyo
Warnings/summary: you are a love-sick fool and don't act like your cool self at all, the trio teases Kunigami, you kick Kaiser between his legs this time, you touch Ness' lips, you dance with Lavinho, bachira has slutty hips, Rin smiles
Word count: 4.9 k 💀
---
It was truly embarrassment at it's finest. You didn't know that the cameras were everywhere, and your and blue lock's fans saw your interaction with Kunigami. Luckily they couldn't hear what Kunigami whispered in your ear. But, they could think, and your fanbase didn't exactly have the cleanest minds.
And much more unfortunately, A certain trio you had electrocuted a few hours prior saw your interaction with Kunigami. However, you didn't know about that...yet.
(you threw away the dress and shoes and all the makeup and jewellery as soon as they got off of your body.)
And, well, Chris Prince was the nosiest coach, closely followed by Lavinho, who were both taking pictures, laughing and cooing at your (cute) pouting face while they asked you about Kunigami.
You were just a blushing mess as you told them that "There's nothing to worry about! I just tripped and he held me close! That's all!", but did the two men believe you?
no <3.
...
It actually took you a while to recover from what Kunigami said to you yesterday as you were waiting in the operation room. Melody would get new fangs today.
you were anxious, to say the least. But, to your rescue came Reo, Nagi and Bachira. But, you were confused upon their arrival. "Shouldn't you guys be training?"
Bachira raised his hands excitedly. "We're here for your emotional support! Lavinho gave me permission to come as well! And here's a carton box of choccy milk!", the boy cheered, handing you over an under 500 ml milf box. You thanked him.
"Prince allowed us to leave as well when we told him you were a close friend of ours.", Reo explained, and Bachira plopped down next to you. Nagi and Reo stood there before they played scissors-paper-rock against each other.
Reo yelled in victory before sitting himself beside you. "The only game where I'm always a loser...", Nagi muttered before taking out his phone next to Reo.
you sighed, but you still smiled at them. "You guys didn't really have to do that, really. You should rather train... But thanks, I appreciate it."
Bachira grinned at you. "I want to stay close to Melody! She's so cool! ...So, how long are we waiting?"
"Four hours.", you stated. Nagi yawned, and Reo chuckled at Bachira's startled expression. "Also you didn't have to pay for Melody's surgery, Reo...I have plenty of money myself, you know?", you said as you turned to your left where Reo sat.
He only smiled down at you sweetly. "But I love Melody as well, Yena."
Reo actually nearly said you, but luckily he caught himself.
You huffed in amusement, but the orange or light brown?(->the sole) heels of your black converse shoes were tapping rapidly against the floor, and your right knee bounced pretty fast as well.
"Hey, Yena...", Bachira spoke softly, before glancing at Reo and Nagi. He wanted to calm your nerves by making you talk about something other than the surgery which was being proceeded right behind your back.
"How do you even know these guys?", he asked. You pondered for a moment. "I dunno..."
"What? C'mon, Yena. Us meeting for the first time was the funniest thing, remember??"
"Huh...Ah! No, please don't-"
"It was a long, long time ago, Bachira...", Reo began.
...
The classroom was particularly loud one day, making Nagi wake up from his slumber. "What's with the noise...?", he murmured sleepily. Reo snickered. "We're going to have a new transfer student today, did you already forget?"
"hm...don't care..", the white albino haired boy muttered before he closed his eyes again.
"...s Ye...deyo...!", he faintly heard his teacher introduce you.
"My name is Yena Hideyo. I am the first female Japanese soccer protégé.", you exclaimed loudly, and Nagi's eyes snapped open.
The whole classroom "oooooohhhhh~"ed at that.
But, they widened even more when he saw how you looked. Remember when I once said that you were a goth at heart? Well, the white uniform which had to be worn normally was black in your case, with chains sprouting everywhere. Your blazer was open, and it reveiled a dark red corset with black embroidments on it, and black bones.
Underneath that corset was a white bouse, and the tie was also shorter. Instead of the normal school skirt, yours was black with ruffles, and it...actually looked pretty good. You also wore black platform boots (Black Mamba from Megamind...yk what I mean? if not nvm), and Nagi and Reo were surprised that you were even allowed to wear something like that.
But, now that he thought about it, your skirt was reaching down to the upperside of your knees, where the normal school skirts reached mid-thigh. Also your boots were reaching up to your knees, and your thigh highs weren't really visible. You actually showed less skin than normal highschool girls.
"Does any of you guys know how to play soccer?", you asked as you looked at the stunned faces. Nagi raised his hand, and so did Reo. "Let's become buddies.", you said with a small smile, and they nodded.
Reo never thought that he'd have an academic rival until he met you. At every question the teacher made, you always raised your hand first. Whenever there would be a question the teachers didn't even know themselves, you and Reo would battle for the first tight answer, and then get into arguments when the answers were not the same.
Also, Nagi laughed his ass off when you cried after you collided against a classmate which resulted in your chocolate milk spashing to the ground. Reo gave you his chocolate milk. you three grew inseperable ever since.
Well, until your father got a job with better salary.
You had to leave the next day.
...
"And that's why, to this day, I still don't forgive your father!"
"Reo...he apologized to you everytime you called me...", you muttered.
"...still..."
"Huh, so you three are like, highschool friends?", Bachira asked as he hummed in thought. You nodded.
"Someone had to lower Reo's ego in school, and I also had to crush Nagi's pride in all the challenges of the games he played."
"It was hell when you defeated me in bed wars, Yena.", Negi grumbled when he had to think about the way you blew up his team's bed right after he landed on your territory.
"Never have I ever had such a mental breakdown like the time you told me the difference between active and passive beauty. Philosophy was an absolute warzone.", Reo shuddered when he thought about the dark ages.
You snickered. "Well, it was fun."
"For you!", Reo and Nagi yelled in unison.
Bachira laughed. "And, Bachira? Why are you in Blue Lock? If it's a too personal question, you can also say no. Wouldn't want to force you.", you asked, trying to be formal around Bachira. He was the one Melody loved the most out of all the boys in this facility.
"there's this monster I always see. Since I was young, I could see it, and always played with it..and then I saw the monster's moves in Isagi, and you. you and Isagi would be the players I'd like to pass to and play with.", he grinned. "You know, I can understand if you don't know what I'm talking about-"
"But I do.", you said, with a serious expression. Bachira's eyes widened. 'what do you mean-'
"If I could share a personal secret, my next book is about my type in men. In this facility, it is interesting to see all the different boys, but they all have their charms, however, it's only ever a fragment, a piece form the whole perfect man in my head.
I got asked from my fans to interact with many of them and find out that way how'd they be in a relationship.", you spoke, putting a hand under your chin in thought.
"But I can't understand why they'd like to see Oliver and some other guys I wouldn't choose personally. Oliver looks like a divorced man who can't get shit together, even though he's only 18? or 19?
Shidou Ryusei, as polite as he was to me, might kill people on the daily or make an onlyfans, and, well, then there's also Isagi."
You were glad the fans didn't bring Kunigami up though. (Yes, they did, you're just not online yet, and they will hold you at gunpoint for that whole you-stumbling-into-Kunigami-thing.)
Reo, Nagi and Bachira listened intently to what you said. But when reo and Nagi heard the name "Isagi", they "hah?!"ed at the same time again.
"Why do the fans like Isagi!?", Reo exclaimed in anger, mad at the fact that you didn't say his name.
"Yeah, what's so special about him...?!", Nagi muttered annoyedly.
You snorted. "Jealous?" "..." "Pretty much.", you remarked as you sighed.
"Remember what Noa said? The fans like Isagi, because he scored a goal in the world cup. He's been out in the field practically only for fanservice."
"Only because he scored a goal? Hmpf..!", Nagi grumbled. You sighed.
"Well...but what about your type, Yena?", Reo asked, trying to find out what you saw in the perfect man. He also thought aboout copying that personality if it meant for you to fall for him. He didn't have to act as a chameleon only on the field, right?
"My type...?", you thought loudly. Only Kunigami came to mind, actually.
You could only think about his cool eyes, or his spicky orange hair, and gosh, let's rather not talk about the body..! you thought about his voice, a deep vibration, which you'd like to feel against your skin as he embraced you with his big, strong arms, his nice scent filling your lungs as you gasped-
"Ah- I-I don't really have a type, ahahhahaahha!", you yelled as you stood up suddenly and laughed like a maniac. Bachira, Nagi and Reo shared concerned glances behind your back.
'Gosh, I nearly said Kunigami!!!', your mind raced. But, you took a deep breath. "Sorry, I was just thinking about a particular character form a book I really liked. But about my type...I'd say he's a little mysterious, has good manners, is polite, has a great, well-trained body -not that I'm bodyshaming anyone, heheh- and just...a smooth voice? Also, I like it when he has pretty eyes.."
Reo and Nagi looked at each other, their rivalry going unnoticed by you, but Bachira snorted at the flying sparks between the two.
"Is there any resemblance to...me?", Reo asked hopefully, and you snickered. "You? Hm...your hair is purple, that's a plus.", you said in a positive voice.
Nagi pointed to his hair. "Mine's white, so I'm a rarity, Yena.", he muttered with a blush as he gave you a little smile.
However, you made it fall in an instant. "Yeah, albino hair is pretty rare, but having naturally purple hair? I think nobody can top that."
Reo blushed furiously at your statement and he grinned as he looked down on his hands which rested on his lap. Nagi grumbled under his breath.
"Hey, Yena! Do I have cool hair too?! My hair is dark in the front, but light at the back! Isn't it cool?!", Bachira exclaimed, pointing towards his hair. he wanted to feel included as well.
You smiled softly at Bachira. He truly felt like a little brother to you, even though he was an inch taller than you. "yes, your hair's pretty cool too, Bachira."
...
Kunigami had just stepped into the gym when Otoya, Oliver and Karasu stepped in as well and strolled over to where Kunigami wanted to do his sets. Kunigami was about to bench press 80 kg/176 lbs. They snickered to themselves with a mischievous grin before Oliver started talking.
"So...we saw somethin', dude.", the heterochromia (dual coloured eyes) having boy started, going in front of the metal to "spot" Kunigami in case the ginger wouldn't be able to lift anymore.
Otoya looked at the weight. "You sure you can lift that?"
Kunigami thought back to you. You must've weighted between 60 and 80 kg's, no? So...he wanted to train using the maximum of your body weight. He blushed slightly, but he frowned. "Yes, it's warm up weight."
"Mind if we join?", Karasu asked with a smirk, as he used some dumbbells.
"Sure.."
"So, back to what we saw...you were being a lil goody-goody with Yena...", Oliver pondered, grinning at Kunigami holding the bar over his head, and stopped a second too long.
"So what."
"Well...we were just wondering...", Oliver murmured as he did some push-ups, giving up on trying to spot Kunigami. "do you maybe like her?"
Kunigami let the weight fall slowly to him. He breathed out. "Doesn't everyone like her?", he asked as he lifted it again, frowning deeply and wondering where the conversation might lead him. He knew that all the boys who interacted with you had their hearts captivated by you, and he was honestly a little insecure about himself. He also didn't think you'd be interested in him, because he didn't really look like a nice guy. (But that boutta change bro)
"Yes, of course, it's just, you must be having a crush on her~!", Otoya teased, but he flinched at the sound of the weight Kunigami let fall down carelessly, as Kuniagmi went up to Otoya, and Otoya was only 177 cm (5'9'') whereas Kunagi towered over him, being 188 cm (6'2'') tall. Otoya stumbled back with wide eyes, and Oliver and Karasu quickly joined to ease the tension.
"So what if I do? And you should be ashamed of yourselves for what you did with Yena in the sauna. I'm glad that she electrocuted you guys."
The three boys looked down in embarrassment. So she told Kunigami about what happened. Still, Oliver had the biggest ego out of those three, as well as the biggest mouth, and he was also two centimeters bigger than Kunigami.
"Hey, no need to point fingers now, right?"
"You guys started it."
"Ah, guilty. Sorry 'bout that. But hey, now we now that our little wildcard here has a crush on Yena!", and with that, the trio chuckled as they left. Once the door slid closed, Kunigami sighed, a deep blush covering his cheeks.
'fucking idiots...!', he thought before he kept going with his training.
...
You didn't know how long you've been chatting with Bachira and your two highschool friends, but the door to the surgery suddenly opened. The doctor stepped out, a handsome older male as he groaned in exhaustion.
"Is Melody alright? How did the procedure go? Can I see her?", you asked worriedly after you stood up the moment you heard the door unlock.
"Melody is fine, miss Hideyo. Her fangs are suiting her well. You can come see her, but she is a little drugged with pollen. It might take her a few minutes to fully wake up, but she'll enjoy a few headscratches, I think.", you hugged the surgeon with tears in your eyes.
"Thank you...thank you so much!", you cried, and the surgeon stood there, startled by your over-affectionate gesture before he smiled fondly and patted your head.
"It was no problem. And now, I'll need to go."
You quickly let go of him, bidding him farewell as he went back to his chamber. Then, you took a deep breath before going to Melody. She was laying on that hospital bed, and you slowly apporached her.
"Hey baby...how are you?", you asked softly before you let a finger massage her head. She opened her eyes, registering your presence before yawning, and her silver fangs shined in the hospital light.
you gushed. "Whoah...", you and Bachira made, as he crouched down next to you. You gently picked her up, with her tangling her body in your arm as Bachira put the long snake-blanket on her.
"Her fangs are so cool...!", Bachira gushed as you four went back to your room. Kaiser, Ness and Hiori stood there as they conversed with each other.
You frowned. "what are you guys doing here?", you whispered, your Melody sleeping safe and sound in your arm.
Kaiser "tch"ed before strutting towards you. "You think you can-", but he held his groin in pain when you kicked him. Ness whimpered as he held his hands in front of his crotch, taking a step away from you in fear.
"Melody had surgery just now, so can you, like, maybe not?", you grumbled as you kicked him to the side before Reo opened the door for you.
Ness looked after Kaiser who gritted his teeth and Hiori stared at the two germans for a moment before going inside as well.
You put Melody in a capsule which was custom-made. She slept inside her "nest". You looked at Hiori.
"The player-switch?", you asked, and Hiori nodded, taking the choccy milk from you which you distributed towards your friends. "I saw you stressing at the banks, Hiori. I knew that you had a way better vision on what they had to do in order to score a goal, and I couldn't do much since I was a defender, so I let you in. and, well, you made it. Because of you, you, Ness, Isagi and Kurona managed for a goal."
"But...weren't Raichi or Igarashi a better option?"
"They are both idiots."
Hiori hummed while the others snorted. Ness knocked this time, before stepping inside. He had a busted lip, and you grew alarmed.
"Yo, what happened??", you asked as you placed a finger on his lip which started to blood slightly. "Ah...n-nothing..!", Ness stuttered when he felt your cold finger on his hot underlip. It felt soothing
You frowned at him before taking a special balm form your drawer and opened it. The whole room started smelling after peppermint in just a few seconds.
You motioned for him to sit down as you applied some on his wound, and his lip quivered a little from the pain and the cold sensation. Maybe also because you started to apply it on the rest of his lip as well, your finger brushing against his lip again and again. He blushed furiously as he stared into your focused glare with wide eyes.
"So, that should be good for now. What I gave you was a lip balm which closes the wound faster, and it is also like regular lip balm because you had chapped lips. You can keep the balm.", you explained as you reached out your hand with the balm for him to take.
He muttered a soft "Th-thank you...!" before he took the balm, your fingers touching, sending him a slight shock as your and his fingers brushed against each other, and he finally had the balm in his hand.
He examined it, but it was actually just .. some kind of balm in a tube?
"Where are the inprints? Like ingredients, or from what company?", he asked, puzzled for a moment as he kept looking at the naked dark red tube.
"I made it myself.", you just said before you leaned against your table. Ness looked at you for a moment before nodding, and then he asked a question he's been meaning to ask.
"Are you really going to Lavinho?"
You nodded and Bachira quickly side-hugged you. "Yep! And she'll be teaching me how to dribble like she did! aww, I'm so excited!"
You huffed in amusement before taking Bachiras head, putting him in a headlock and ruffling his hair aggressively. "But I won't go easy on you!", you whisper-yelled.
He tried breaking free form your grasp, but to no avail.
Reo and Nagi only glared at Ness and Bachira. they also wanted you to touch their lips and ruffle their hair.
...
"Whoah! you actually really suck at this, Otoya!", you bullied him wholeheartedly as you "passed" the ball to him. You were actually shredding the ball in his direction, and he mosten-times slipped and fell down.
Yeah, you were still mad at him for what he, Oliver and Karasu did.
Bachira and Lavinho were having the time of their lives when you three were dribbling. Then, Lavinho had the (bad) idea of turning on some latina music and reached out his right hand to you, his left foot placed on the ball.
"Let's show them what dribbling really means, Yena!", he exclaimed and you sighed. "Do I have a choice?"
"Nope, the fans wanted this!", he cheered before he started dancing to the intro.
you huffed before raising your arms and strutting towards him. Now, you two held each other's arms while dancing to the steps. It was a fluent dance, and the ball swirled around between you two.
Even though you had to stay on your tippy toes, it wasn't as bad as you thought. Lavinho was a great guy to dance with, actually.
While you two were moving around, the cameras followed, an so did everyones' elses gaze. Bachira found himself captivated by the harmonization of you and his trainer dancing like you two did forever, but it was actually the first time you and Lavinho danced with each other.
As soon as the music came to a stop, you and Lavinho swerved your hips before youleft foot and his right one touched the ball and you two scored a goal.
Everyone clapped in applause.
"So, what did you guys see?", Lavinho asked as you forked a ball.
"Well, the ball just--stayed between your feet, not going anywhere!", Bachira exclaimed.
Otoya laid there after you shredded his leg again. "Yena looked sex-ACK!"
You shredded his face. And you didn't care if you got in trouble for that. Also...your time was slowly running out. You wondered where Rin went.
"Exactly! Now, try to do it as well!", Lavinho yelled as he turned the music on again. You only raised an eyebrow when he shook his hips to the rythm, but both your eyebrows were raised when Bachira extended his hand to you.
"Let's dance, Yena!"
"..huh?", you made, suddenly aware that all the other boys had balls and were looking at you expectingly.
Yeah, you had to dance with every single one of them. But you refused Otoya's request to dance with you.
You had the most fun with dancing with Bachira. You wanted to dance again with him. "Bachira, would you mind if we danced again? I really enjoyed it.", you spoke.
Bachira blushed a little, but he was also very cheeful. "Sure!"
As the next song started, you two swayed your hips before you started dancing. You made actual dance steps and bachira just--well, he dribbled with the ball. It turned form a friendly dance to a competition of who could take the ball from the other person.
It was your steps against his dribbling.
Suddenly, your eyes wandered. Your gaze was locked on his eyes as he looked right back at you, then to the yellow hair at his nape and neck, then down to his arms, and when you were having your eyes nearly shut, Bachira thought you were just, well, closing your eyes and feeling the moment.
Never would he have guessed that you were looking at his hips though. they were hypnotizing in their own way, and you couldn't help but blush and pant by the way they were swaying. 'stop these dirty thoughts...dammit bachira, why are you so hot!?', you thought as you tried taking the ball from him again and again.
Still, you were occasionally looking up at him, and he grinned at you. You flushed and averted your eyes. The music kept playing. 'Just how long is this song...and why does Bachira have those, slim, slutty and sexy hips?! This isn't fair...!'
And just like that, you two danced until the last second of the last song ended. You two were panting when you were done. the ball stood between your and Bachira's feet. "Say...how come you're such a great dancer?", the boy asked, out of breath.
You gave him your waterbottle after you opened it. He drank from it. "I used to be a ballroom dancer. And, well, I still use dancing steps, even in football. It just became a habit of mine."
"Aww...I wish I went ballroom dancing...did you go to any competitions?"
"Just a few."
"Did you win any prizes? Did you win first place?"
"Always.", you answered with a smirk.
Bachira's eyes lit up. "Jeez, you're so cool Yena! I'm so jealous!"
You only huffed in amusement. "Nah, you just flatter me too much. C'mon, let's eat dinner, before everyone eats everything away.", you said as you gave him your hand to take because he was sitting.
...
Rin suddenly took you aside, holding your wrist tightly. "What the hell was that??", he asked in an irritated tone and you snatched your hands away from him.
"Okay, so first off; don't touch me. Second, I was just dancing.", you spoke as you put your hands on your hips.
You didn't want this to lead to an argument. But Rin looked like he did. Oh well.
"That didn't look like 'just dancing' to me.", he grumbled as he sztared down at you.
"And? So what?"
"Hmpf...let's go train."
"I didn't eat anything since breakfast, can I-"
"I made you some homemade Spaghetti."
"How did you manage to go into the kitchen?"
Rin huffed in frustration. "Okay I didn't go to the kitchen, I ordered takeout for us. Now come."
"I don't like the tone."
"...", Rin licked his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. He sighed. "Sorry. Would you like to go train with me after we eat something?", he asked softly- no, shyly, and his eyes were even downcast as he had a pout on his face.
You stretched before nodding. "You could've gone on your knees for that plea, but meh. Let's go, I don't want the spaghetti getting cold."
Rin sighed in relief that you didn't turn him down. You followed him to his room and he already had the table set, where his laptop would normally rest.
As you two ate the spaghetti, Rin spoke up. "How's Melody? You told me she got new fangs today?"
You nodded as you slurped up the delicious noodles, and Rin did the same. No need to eat formal when you're eating with a close friend, right? "Yep, the doctor said she'd be fine by now, and that she's very tired. And high."
Rin huffed in amusement. "Maybe she needed drugs?"
"The doctor had Malody inhale pollen, which is the same as drugs. But enough of her. How is your training going? And your self meditation?"
Rin blushed at the questions you asked, which were about him. "Great. Although I'd like it more if we'd spend a little more time together. Like...instead of one hour with you, I'd like to have you to myself the whole day."
You looked at him for a moment, mouth full of spaghetti. Rin then realized what he said when you raised your eyebrows and started chewing quickly.
"Wait- no- th-that's not what I meant-"
But he knew there'd be no end in sight after you swallowed your bite.
"Daymmm~ where did you learn to be so smooth, Rin?", you teased and Rin sighed with rosy cheeks as he frowned at you.
"Please, Yena, I didn't want it to come out like this."
"So you don't wanna spend time with me? Hm, sad. I actually did."
"I-I did too!", Rin quickly yelled right after your sentence ended.
"Then why are you taking it back?", you asked the dark haired boy. He looked down at his half-eaten spaghetti box.
"Well, because it was embarrassing of me to say...", he muttered, and you placed your box down as well.
"hmm...embarrassing, you say? I remember how you told me to not be embarrassed when I was scared to go to my first ballroom dancing competition. You told me to not be embarrassed. And that made my whole day.", you spoke, and you opened a cola can, happy that it didn't shake during the delivery time.
"Rin, please don't be embarrassed for your needs. You're one of my best friends. If it weren't for you, Sae, Nagi and Reo, I'd be somewhere in a villa, having to hear my family blabber about some unimportant business shit.
But you helped me, Rin. You saved me. And for that, I'm always grateful.", you took a sip from the can as Rin stared at you with his mouth agape in shock.
'I saved you...? But...you saved me!'
Before Rin could say anything else, a female voice rang through the corridors. "The curfew is approaching in ten minutes, please go back to your dorms."
"Ah, looks like I'll have to go...bye Rin. Goodnight.", you said softly before you hugged him.
He hugged you back as tight as you could. "when...when will you leave Blue Lock?"
"I don't know. Ego said he'd think about it, because he was the one who wanted me to be here. I don't know if my presence has improved any of you guys, but I hope it did.", you joked as you went to the door.
Rin sat on his bed.
"Yena?"
"Hm?", you turned around, and then you saw it.
Rin smiled.
He looked etheral when he smiled. Like out of a painting. You loved it.
"Thank you."
You had tears flowing quickly in your eyes as you smiled back.
"Anytime, Rin."
---
Wow now I have tears in my eyes lol. I hope you guys liked this part <3
Also sorry that I didn't really include Kaiser in this, I just hate hate HATE this boy with a burning passion idk why though
Also I wanna put in Niko, cuz he cute as FUCK, I just want Yena to shamelessly flirt with him and make him blush and stutter...
Also I have no idea what took over me when I wrote you dancing with Bachira...
Anyways, you guys can choose what happens in the next part, okay?
Read you guys in the next post!
#bllk isagi#bllk x you#bllk x reader#bllk#rin itoshi#rin x reader#Rin itoshi x rader#bachira meguru#nagi#kunigami#isagi#chigiri#reo#bachira fluff#bachira x you#bachira x reader#kunigami rensuke#blue lock kunigami#kunigami x reader#bllk kunigami#rensuke x reader#otoya x reader#otoya eita#bllk otoya#blue lock otoya#karasu tabito#karasu x reader#alexis ness#ness x reader#ness x you
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20 questions for fic writers
tagged by my one and only brainpipe bestie @ninzied ♡
How many works do you have on ao3?
43!
What's your total ao3 word count?
163,202
What fandoms do you write for?
mostly good omens at the moment, but i am also tinkering with an old kanthony fic. i have so. many. hellcheer wips collecting dust in my google drive. and of course kastle my og, my beloved.
Top five fics by kudos:
say my name (and every color illuminates) - kanthony
the wonderful part of the mess that we made - stranger things trio
warm, solid things - hellcheer
every bit of beating heart - kastle
my head is filled with ruins (most of them, i built with you) - kastle
Do you respond to comments?
always! if i don't, i probably didn't see it.
What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
definitely any of my older kastle fics 🙈
What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
probably the one lucky dog series? i based the proposal scene (spoilers for a fic that's five years old lol) off of my own, which made me happy, at least!!
Do you get hate on fics?
thankfully no!
Do you write smut?
i have, but it's a struggle. the stage management of it all!! it's definitely something i'd like to work on and improve though
Craziest crossover:
probably my good place au. i was hmm shall we say overly ambitious with that idea, but it was a fun covid project!
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
not that i'm aware
Have you ever had a fic translated?
i haven't!
Have you ever co-written a fic before?
in theory i would love to, in practice i think it would stress me out immenselyyyyy
All time favorite ship?
i like nina's answer for this one. i love and appreciate them all for different reasons!! kastle will stick with me forever obviously. truly the fandom to rule them all. ♡
What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
the hellcheer detention fic i started for @majicmarker under threat of being pushed into a pool if i didn't finish, oop. wrote about 5k and just lost the plot completely. tale as old as tiiiime
What are your writing strengths?
capturing a vibe. dialogue. exploring smaller moments.
What are your writing weaknesses?
plotting?? i don't know her. also finishing chaptered fics. i probably overuse semicolons and em dashes.
Thoughts on dialogue in another language?
i've done this before with very simple words/phrases. anything more in depth should probably be looked over by someone who speaks the language?
First fandom you wrote in?
kastle!!
Favorite fic you've written?
probably warm, solid things. it's the longest one-shot i've ever posted, and it's personal to me in many ways. i'm happy it seemed to resonate with people!
honorable mention to my most recent good omens fic, which took years off my life to write, but i'm quite proud of the end result; also this kastle ficlet which sort of just fell out of my brain fully-written?? what sorcery????
tagging! (no pressure!): @majicmarker, @redbelles, @heartonfirewrites, @imashybear, @evilbunnyking
@onebatch2batch, @ejunkiet, @malachitegrey, @andromeda4004 and anyone else who sees this and wants to play :)
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I need part 3 of drunk Illumi or I will literally go insane.
PLS I NEED TO FUCK THE DRUNK ASSASSIN
an attachment pt. 3 (drunk!virgin!illumi x dom!reader)
description: you've finally managed to get your confession from illumi and now it was time to seal the deal by spending the night with him! luckily for you, you got the privilege of stealing his virginity! unlucky for you, illumi had new plans for the two of you the following morning...
authors note: lmaoooo i gotcha dw 😂👌🏻 illumi needs to be fucked so pls enjoy part 3 of drunk illumi! (I swear this is an actual series now 🥴😂)
alexa play streets by doja cat
warnings: smut, noncon (illumi is drunk, reader is sober), dom reader sub illumi dynamics, virgin illumi, this is 100% fucked up so please read at your own discretion though if you've made it this far then you probably know that lol
word count: 2.4k
read part one here!
read part two here!
minors dni
requests are open!
You knew the assassin was a virgin, that much was obvious and there was a part of you that delighted in being the one to snatch his virginity.
He was clawing at you, as if he was trying to come into contact with every inch of your skin. You were glad that the desperate, emotional side of Illumi was still present. The touch starved aspect of him was one you loved to cater to so when you both collapsed onto the bed in a mess of kisses and groping, you truly savoured it.
You tried stripping Illumi of his top first but he paused, confused at your actions. He didn’t speak, only looked at you with bewilderment. You wanted to laugh, of course he has never had someone remove his clothes before.
“Trust me.” You murmured in his ear, nibbling his lobe. Your hands glided down his chest and you began to remove the pesky article of clothing again. “It’ll feel really good.”
He didn’t stop you then and you successfully managed to free his torso. Running your fingers over the endless muscles, you kissed his neck, slowly making your way down to his chest. When your tongue found his nipple, Illumi jerked, very unfamiliar with the sensation.
You chucked and brought your face back up to his. Despite the sudden movement, the assassin seemed to be enjoying your ministrations. Half lidded eyes met yours and his lips parted in a haze of what you assumed was drunken pleasure. Your hands travelled further down and brushed against his abdomen.
“Would you like me to stop?” You asked, unsure if you’d be able to now that you had this beautiful man half naked before you.
“No.” He answered, causing you to grin. That’s when you started to pay attention to the lower half of his body. Meeting his lips once more, you began rubbing circles on his thighs, slowly working inwards. The closer you got to his sex, the heavier his breathing became.
“You like that?” You mumbled into his mouth, taking great pleasure in hearing him hum in response. You pulled back slightly to look at him and your breath caught in your throat. His long hair was all over the place, cheeks flushed, lips red and raw, and dark eyes hooded. He was exquisite.
Suddenly unable to hold back or restrain yourself any longer, you roughly kissed him, hand gliding to the growing tent in his pants. A small part of your brain jokingly laughed at the fact that this was probably the first time he’s ever gotten it up. Illumi was usually in perfect control of his body, however when he was drunk it was an entirely different story it seemed.
You were surprised that Illumi didn’t stop you when you undid the rest of his clothing, and even more surprised when he even helped you to remove it. You couldn’t help but glance down once he had seated himself back on the bed. Every single part of him was toned. His calves and thighs, while lithe, were incredibly muscular.
And then there was his erection. Needless to say, you weren’t disappointed.
The Zoldyck assassin seemed to find it unfair that he was the only one without clothes, and pulled your top off in one swift movement. You started to laugh when he couldn’t undo the clasps of your bra but that was short lived when he got frustrated and decided to rip it off of your body instead.
“Hey! That was my favourite!” Your complaints fell on deaf ears as the boy before you was too focused on your newly exposed skin. Illumi paused, seemingly unsure of what to do next. He met your gaze, desperate eyes almost begging for help.
You would never get over the switch between regular and drunk Illumi, it was as if they were two different people.
Chuckling, you stood up and removed the rest of your clothing, taking delight in the way Illumi watched you.
Both of you were fully naked now, unable to tear your gaze away from each other. With wicked intentions, you prowled back to your crush and straddled his lap. His arms remained by his sides, as if he had no idea what to do with them. Deciding to help him, you grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips.
“Just relax.” You whispered to Illumi, your hand slowly pushing his chest down onto the bed. “I’m going to take really good care of you.”
You picked up where you had left off on his chest. Kissing, sucking and nipping at the skin there.
Illumi’s hands flew to your hair once you reached his nipples. It seemed like he was capable of normal human responses after all. Lingering there as you were enjoying the subtle reactions out of him, you decided to go lower. Dragging your tongue down his chest, wetting the grove in between his abs.
Then you reached his cock. You grinned, wondering what reactions you could get now. You started with a few small licks, then one long one from the base to the tip. Illumi’s breathing grew laboured, the hands in your hair gripping tighter as you brought him into your mouth. When you started bobbing, he started thrashing.
You didn’t think he would be one to make much noise, but you didn’t have to be a genius to see that he was clearly enjoying the expert work you were doing with your mouth and tongue. Quiet sighs left his lips and you watched intently, determined to savour every moment of this Illumi.
You stopped when he started bucking his hips, feeling positively evil as you watched him reel back from the edge of his first orgasm.
“Why did you stop?” He panted ever so slightly, mixed with his emotionless tone which you found hilarious.
“Because I’m about to make you feel even better.” You smirked as you climbed on top of him, caging his body with your own. You reminisced about your first night together, thinking back to the time when you were in this exact position but instead not taking it any further. You captured his lips once more, realising how much of an attachment you have formed with Illumi. It scared you slightly, more than you care to admit. You didn’t think you had the capability left in you to disappear from his life, and him from yours.
You were suddenly brought back to the present when Illumi made a sound. A sound. It was somewhere between a sigh and a whine. It was quiet, almost inaudible, but it was a sound nonetheless.
Thinking that this had gone on long enough, you straddled his thighs once more, lining yourself up. You watched his eyes go wide and roll slightly as you slid down. His hips snapped up, overwhelmed with a pleasure that was so foreign to him. You ground down on him further, feeling him deep inside you. You paused for a moment, letting him adjust to the new sensation. Your signal to start moving came when his hips twitched, betraying his control to show you that he was desperate for friction.
You wanted to make sure Illumi’s first time was enjoyable but that didn’t mean you couldn’t let yourself go a little. You rode your crush passionately, enjoying every single one of his little breathy whines. As powerful as he was outside of the bedroom, you knew Illumi wouldn’t last that long inside of you.
Usually you would like to drag it out, making your partner beg for release. However you took pity on the assassin and decided to make it feel as good as possible rather than make it last longer. You ground down everytime he thrusted, matching his feverish pace with your own.
“You’re doing so well, Illumi.” You couldn’t hold back the praise even if you tried. “You’re amazing. So good.”
You were getting close and you could sense that Illumi was too. You fucked him fast and hard, already knowing that this would be what he would enjoy the most. His hands gripped the sheets and the sane part of you that wasn’t drunk on lust was worried for the structural integrity of your bed. His sounds grew louder and yours matched, you were very close now.
Bringing a hand to his nipple and your lips to his mouth, you gently squeezed on the bud as you met his tongue in an open mouth kiss. That did it. Illumi let out a series of fast pants, thrusting up vigorously as he reached his climax. You finished not long after him, his pace sending you over the edge. You clenched down on him, as you both came down from your highs.
Through the haze of bliss, Illumi reached out to you. Sliding off of him, he pulled you into his arms, burying his face into your hair.
Huh, so Illumi had a cuddly drunk side to him too. You snuggled in, the two of you catching your breath.
“Did you enjoy that?”
The assassin answered with a hum, too far gone in his drunken high. A wave of tiredness from the night’s events crashed into you, leading you to close your eyes. It was much too warm and peaceful to fight the lull of sleep. You could feel Illumi’s breathing get deeper, signalling that he was also nodding off.
Bringing the blanket around the two, you settled back into his arms and let sleep wash over you, but not before you could return the confession. “I like you too, Illumi.”
The harsh glare of the sun roused you the following morning, and you mentally scolded yourself for not closing the curtains last night. Quickly realising that you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, you sighed and got up, careful not to wake the still sleeping Zoldyck.
Pulling a robe over your naked body, you quietly left your room. When you entered your living area, you jumped out of your skin at the sight of Hisoka grinning at you. You shouldn’t have been surprised really, of course he was gonna be there so see how the night unfolded.
“I would ask,” You began, staring incredulously at the magician sprawled across your couch. “But I probably don’t want to know how you got in.”
“Best if you don’t ask.”
You nodded and headed into your kitchen to get a glass of much needed water.
“Have fun last night?” Hisoka wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, earning a laugh from you when you came back.
“Taking an assassin’s virginity is a serious matter.” You playfully chided, wagging your finger as you sat beside him on the couch.
“So did you?”
“Oh absolutely. Best ride of my life.” You sipped your water, grinning from ear to ear. “I turned a boy into a man last night.”
Hisoka threw his head back in laughter, clapping his hands. “I must take some credit for the outcome.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you.”
Just then, the sound of your bedroom door creaking open cut off the conversation as both of you had turned to see the eldest Zoldyck sibling walk into the room.
“Morning.” Hisoka purred, a smug look donning his face.
Illumi made a sound of acknowledgement before he leaned against the marble island that separated your kitchen and living area. His appearance and demeanour betrayed nothing of the previous night’s events, except for a couple of love bites that you could see peeking out from under his collar.
“Feel any different?” Hisoka decided to chime just as you had taken a drink, almost making you cough up water.
“Not really, but now I suppose I have to make a lot of plans with y/n.”
You looked at your somewhat lover, very confused. “What plans?”
“Our marriage plans.”
“Who’s getting married?” Your brain was struggling to grasp what he meant, and you decided now was the time to take another swig from your glass. A horrific decision.
“We are.”
This time you did choke on your drink, liquid spraying all over your floor.
“Married?” You spluttered, convinced Illumi had discovered the ability to crack a joke in the sudden loss of his virginity.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Why?”
“To further the Zoldyck line.”
“WHAT?”
Hisoka had started to cackle then.
“What?” Illumi had the audacity to seem confused.
“Married? Children? At least take me out to dinner first.” You could barely keep up with the conversation. “I like to be wined and dined before I tie the knot.”
“Is it a proper proposal you’d like?”
“We haven’t even had a date!”
“That’s not important.”
Hisoka was still howling, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. Or maybe he actually was, you were too stunned to pay close attention.
“Illumi, we just had sex. We didn’t make a blood pact.”
“With everything that happened last night, this is the next step.”
Ah, he was referring to his drunken confession that you prised out of him and returned.
“I think this is a bit of a leap.” You rubbed your temples, trying to grasp the assassin’s logic. Was this how things worked in his family? You fuck once and suddenly you’re discussing the guest list at your wedding?
You looked to Hisoka for some help. A stupid thing to try and do as you very quickly realised that he was enjoying this far too much to change it.
“Still want to take some credit, Hisoka?” You grumbled, throwing a banana from the fruit bowl at him to try and get him to stop laughing.
“Of course! My plans have resulted in you with a fiancee. If anything, I would say I’m the best wingman to have ever existed.”
“Ugh.” You groaned and put your head in your hands, trying to make sense of the situation you had now found yourself in. Perhaps this was your karma for getting someone drunk and then having sex with them.
You could feel Illumi’s eyes on you, totally apathetic towards everything. You knew you could turn him down and suffer little consequences, but you also realised that everything between you and Illumi would be over.
You didn’t think you could live with that.
Standing up, you brought your water over to the large window that overlooked the entire city. No one spoke as both of your friends were waiting for you to break the silence.
You paused to think, weighing your options. You had just been presented with the opportunity to join one of the most powerful families in the world, to marry the only boy you’ve ever had a serious crush on, and to create insanely strong child assassins.
Were you stupid enough to turn that down? To turn down the only person who actually made you feel something?
“Illumi?”
“Yes?”
You took a sip of your glass, feeling the weight of both sets of eyes on you before you turned back around to face them. Mainly your soon to be intended. Locking eyes with Illumi, you raised your glass to him. “I’m expecting a proper proposal.”
#hxh#hunter x hunter#hxh x reader#illumi#illumi x reader#illumi zoldyck#hxh illumi#hxh hisoka#hisoka x reader#hisoka marrow#hisoka#chrollo lucilfer#hxh chrollo#chrollo x reader#hxh kurapika#kurapika kurta#kurapika x reader#kurapika#killua zoldyck#killua#killua x reader#feitan x reader#feitan#hxh scenarios#hxh headcanons#hxh imagines
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