Let Me Squish His Cheeks Please Ill Do Anything

let me squish his cheeks please I’ll do anything •᷄ɞ•᷅

Omg Blackout pt. 3 was a total surprise to wake up to but I'm so excited to read it later when I have more time!!! And 19k words??? Skye, you're really spoiling us, thank you for this beautiful story 💞💞

glad i could surprise you with it🥺 i hope you like it!! YES yes 19k, I don't know how that happened but😭 thank you for spoiling me with support aswell🥺❤️

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HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 

bonus:

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I discovered you vía blackout and ooooohhhh myyy gooodddd I am sooo happy. You are such a great writer, smut and angst were ✨chefs kiss✨i am so excited for everything your sexy brain will choose to share with us 💙

hello oh my god welcome!!🥺 so glad you found your way here and are enjoying my stuff so far😭 my sexy brain has an almost unholy amount of angst prepared, but the next one shall be a lovely little fluff fest, i hope you like it hehehe<333

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BTS Fic Recs / To Read

purely because i am trying to keep track of what i have read and want to read in the future lol.

‼️18+ minors DNI, if you choose to anyways, PLEASE be careful. try to heed our warnings, we have them for a reason‼️

key/guide at the bottom of the post :)

ive come to the realisation it is ALL smut.. my bad

set me free chap 7 YG to read

on with the show RM to read

mold a pretty lie SJ to read

haunted house JHOPE to read

mine JK to read

our beloved summer JK to read

borathae kinktober to read

i feel you in my heart and i don’t even know you YG waiting for update

neon sign YG to read

until i found you JK to read

lights out JK to read

9 months to fall in love SJ to read

believe it JM to read

sticks and stones YG to read

diving chapter 15 JK to read

epitaph KT to read

you who never arrived YG to read

turn back time SJ to read

undone business JK to read

not even a mouse YG to read

sonic rain JHOPE to read

recommend:

[not in any particular order] [if any users would like me to remove their post from this list please let me know and i will do so immediately!]

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smut, fluff, very little angst, one shot, 13.3k

stuttering RM @moonlightchildz

fluff!! smut! lil bit of angst, one shot

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college!au, fluff! smut! very very little angst, one shot

trip KT @daechwitatamic

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a human touch KT @snackhobi

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if you have any recs for me 🤭🤭🤭 pls send them through 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

just in case people weren’t sure

RM = Namjoon

YG = Yoongi/Suga

JK = Jungkook

SJ = Seokjin

KT = Taehyung/V

JM = Jimin

JHOPE = Hoseok

FWB = Friends with Benefits

e2l = Enemies to Lovers

f2l = Friends to Lovers

s2l = Strangers to Lovers

s2f2l = Strangers to Friends to Lovers

BBF = Brothers Best Friend

smau = Social Media au

au = Alternate Universe

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blackout (pt3) | jjk

⇥ pairing: roommate/best friend!jungkook x reader

⇥ genre: best friends to lovers, roommate and college au, angst, fluff, smut

⇥ rating: 18+

⇥ warnings: more angst!, a severe lack of communication, still lovesick for your best friend, yearning, swearing, small town stories<3, slight jealousy, biker jk😵‍💫, pov switch!, marvel and endgame references…, yellow jacket/euphoria jk throwbacks!, quite alot happens fr, deep rooted emotions, making out, sexual content, tiddie and ass loveee, fingering, teasing, finger sucking, oral (both rec.), big dick/dom kook, LOTSA kissing, clit slapping, some biting?, he’s a little shit fr, unprotected sex but be careful folks!, he adores her<3, manhandling, maybe more but i hope that’s it!

⇥ wc: 19.2k🥲 so sorry

⇥ author’s notes: i promise the smut will be better in my next fic, but i still really hope you like pt3, i worked really hard on her😭 thank you for your support and love, it meant a lot!!! don’t forget to let me know what you think! if you haven’t yet, do read pt1&2 (linked below) first before reading this!<3

⇥ summary: The man and the town you knew have changed, but your craving heart still beats the same.

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pt1 || pt2 || pt3

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Extending the pain.

When Jungkook opens his eyes the next day, alone in his room – dimly lit by the sunbeams through the blinds – he realizes that that’s what he’s been doing the last few weeks. Your and his own pain, an inevitable force that kept creeping close and exploded last night.

Within the first moments of the heavy morning, yesterday’s hours play out in his mind again – from when he left you alone with his friends to everything that happened while he was gone; ending with the ache he kissed off your lips and made his own.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Jungkook sits up, remaining at the edge of the bed with his head hanging low. With a sniff, he extends a hand to his phone on the bedside table; it flashes eleven in the morning.

You usually wake up earlier than him, already washing your dishes in the kitchen or watching TV on the couch. Even when you’re in your room, opting for a silent start to the day, he can at least hear dull sounds that indicate that you’re home.

But when he steps out of his room and scans the entire apartment, he finds it empty of you with a bitter taste on his tongue and a dropping heart.

He doesn’t learn until later tonight that you went out to study in the campus library; for possibly the first time in months without him.

–

Another night ends and another day starts.

Sunday is the coziest day of the week, which isn’t always due to the silent world outside or the vacant roads throughout the hours. To Jungkook, the pleasant laziness shows in you sleeping in.

You always tell him you admire his stamina to power through days; to wake up, cook, work out, study and then regularly meet up with friends. But in reality, he sometimes wishes you could see the amount of productivity you put in everything you do.

So he likes it when you wake up near noon every Sunday. When you allow yourself to rest.

When you walk out of the bathroom, brushed and washed up, eyes drooping from the academic exhaustion yesterday brought, the table is already set. The scent of breakfast wafts towards you, and when you see him waiting on one side of the table, scrolling through his phone, you allow yourself to smile a little.

“Good morning,” Jungkook greets once he detects you in the middle of the room.

“Morning.”

“I uh–” His eyes flash across the table and the food briefly. “I made some breakfast. For us.”

It’s nothing new. He’s done it a hundred times before – but today feels different to the both of you somehow.

“Thank you,” you mutter, still forcing a little smile. “You made a lot.”

Scanning the content laying on the table, you quietly name it all: A salad, some veggie and non-veggie options, and your favorite juice, placed aesthetically as he always does. He has remarkable skills when it comes to cooking and plating, and today, he doesn’t disappoint either.

You take a seat in front of him, pushing back the sleeves of your shirt as he answers, “I figured you didn’t eat enough yesterday. You were gone all day.”

There’s slight hesitation in your movements, a fleeting but clear hint of pain in your eyes when he looks at you. He’s the last to complain about someone vanishing for hours – and he attempts to close the topic, but you catch your composure fast.

“You always know, don’t you?” You ask, taking your first bite.

Despite the clear tension, Jungkook’s chest relaxes. He’s always a caretaker as much as he’s a friend, much like you are to him.

Him, the one maintaining your health. You, the one keeping him strong through hurdles.

But aside from the mild comfort he feels right now, the crack between him and you hurts. Even though the kiss he last shared with you locked him in a haze of affection and insanity, clear in your touch too, something has shifted between the two of you.

And it has shifted badly.

“Do you like it?” Jungkook wants to know, too focused on you to touch his own food much.

Your gaze flies to his hands for a moment, sleeves pulled over his fingers and holding the cup of coffee like he’s guarding it with his life. You hum in approval, and he smiles in satisfaction and pride, nodding toward the salad.

“Was surprisingly hard to make,” he says.

“It’s really good, though.”

“Okay. Good.”

A few more moments pass in silence, and when you’re nearing your last bites, Jungkook asks, “Do you wanna study together again for our exams?”

It might be a stupid question – after last time, he doesn’t think you trust him enough to roam the campus or town again with him or his other people. So you shrug your shoulders, giving an ambiguous answer. “I’ll see how motivated I feel to go out.”

“Valid, yeah. I get it.” Jungkook’s eyes leave yours only to avoid discomfort – if it was up to him, he’d keep looking, keep letting his thoughts fight each other. “And after that? We could celebrate the first day of fall break or something. Your favorite bowling hall. Or–”

“I…” You suddenly interrupt, looking into his big, dark eyes; filled with innocence and anticipation. His thumb darts out of his improvised sleeve gloves, tapping the cup gently. “I’ll be going home to my parents. I bought the ticket already, 'cause it’s been a while, so…”

Jungkook’s parents live in the same town. He grew up with you there, broke his bones there, carried you on his back through several parks and alleys there.

And now…

He doesn’t know when the relationship with you shattered so hard, but it hits him vividly now.

“You could’ve told me, I…” He struggles for words, then looks down into his cup, watching his reflection. His dropped lips. “I could’ve gone with you.”

The way you bite your cheek suggests guilt; you brush back your hair to keep your movements busy. “I didn’t know if you had something else planned.”

With someone else, your open sentence seems to say.

“No,” he tells you, looking at you. He pulls his lips to a soft smile. “No, I had nothing planned.”

Because he wanted to make things right with you. Focus on you.

You touch the edge of your plate with a sigh, and swallow as you stand up. “I wasn’t sure. Sorry.”

He could suggest right now to go buy a ticket tomorrow; it’s not hard to get one for a train ride down to your town. But your behavior around him feels too hostile, like he’s not welcome in your periphery anymore; that despite you making up, you’ve gone back to stubborn, silent anger.

When you walk to the kitchen, he gets up immediately, following. Arriving at the sink, he catches you grabbing the sponge, but before you can get to work, he insists, “I can do that. Don’t worry about it, it’s my turn anyways.”

“It’s fine. It’s just a plate–”

“Yeah, but you’ve done a lot in the last few days and–”

“It’s okay, Jungkook, seriousl–”

“Hey,” he says, his voice louder this time, a hand wrapped around your wrist. You let the sponge fall before he turns you around, pressing your bottom against the counter. “Hey.”

Distressed, he seeks your gaze, and once you grant him to meet your eyes, he feels his heart pound a hundred miles a minute. He hasn’t touched you like this in two days. Not that it’s a big deal – the both of you have gone without a touch for far longer.

But God, he missed your warmth.

“Please don’t hate me,” he tells you, quieter again. “It feels like you hate me.”

You swallow again – he wishes he could read your thoughts. No one has ever been as open with him as you, but right now, he can’t figure out what floats in your head; your eyes melt, but you still don’t speak.

“I promise I won’t hurt you again,” he says, silent pleas in his voice. “I’m a fucking jerk, but I didn’t think it’d hurt you this bad.”

“It?” You finally ask, wriggling out of his grip just for him to brush his fingers against your arms, softly locking you in.

“Leaving you there… Disregarding your feelings and leaving you alone.”

You sigh, pressing your lips together. “That’s… That’s not all it was, Jungkook.”

“What was it then? I just… I'm sorry. Whatever it was, I swear I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to–”

A hand wanders up to your cheek, his face drawing a little closer. He’s sure you can feel his breath on your nose, because he sure as hell feels your heat on his. You keep swallowing hard, backing away more. Harder against the counter.

Your stagnant breathing suggests nervousness, the sudden cut in your sentence insecurity. He moves closer, the tips of your noses touching. He can feel your lips on his, though your mouths are still inches away from each other, lost in your presence and the rapid pounding of his heart.

But then, you release a shaky exhale, your head moving down just a bit but enough to break his daze. It’s like time stops, and suddenly he hears the silence louder. Your eyes are shut, your face moving under his palm.

And when he realizes that you’re letting go of the newfound connection to him that he’s held dear for the last few weeks, his hand drops. He stops trying, blinks, and backs away as his fingers brush through his fine, dark hair.

You’re still not looking at him when he starts moving away, and in his piercing ache, sporting a collapsing heart, he only says, “I’ll get the rest of the dishes.”

–

When he left your table two days ago, he didn’t intend to hurt you in any way.

In fact, he was rather comfortable in his spot with you in his sight, in your presence. It was somewhat strange, considering that Hayun used to be one of the very few people who could cut the wires in his brain.

But right now, the feelings that used to grip his mind ages ago didn’t emerge. Not even bubbling somewhere deep inside him – they were… gone. So it felt more like a task than a favor to accompany her to the library, to wait as she returned the books.

Then, to agree when she asked the librarian and him if it’d be okay if she briefly scoured the sociology section for some stuff she needed for some seminar. He thinks he remembers her talking about something insignificant as his eyes scanned the rows of books, busying himself.

He’d answer something insignificant back, attempting hard to be kind, the way she was to him. Which still couldn’t shove away the thought of your expression when he'd left. How you hadn't reacted when Hayun had arrived; how you'd shrugged away Jin’s suggestion for Jungkook to go with Hayun as if it meant nothing to you.

He didn’t want to leave you alone – and he certainly didn’t intend to stay away this long.

But maybe he’d misinterpreted the recent signs. Maybe his own didn’t quite reach you either. So it didn’t matter, right?

Wrong.

And he’d know soon enough.

“Did you find it?” He asked once he heard Hayun sigh.

Jungkook didn’t even know what it was, but she denied his question with a shake of her head. When he glanced down to his watch, she didn’t register the impatience either.

“But it should be here somewhere,” she let him know. And on cue, her eyes blew wide in the next moment, a victorious gasp leaving her mouth. “There we go.”

Near closing time, Jungkook sighed in relief when he left the building with her, only to be dragged to a snack stand nearby that had caught her eye. The entire affair felt harmless enough, even though he’d rather gone back by now.

Despite her protests, he pulled out his wallet, buying what she desired and what he tolerated, soon asking, “Should we get the others something, too?”

But she shook her head firmly. “They brought their own snacks and were distracted enough from studying.”

The statement didn’t make much sense and Jungkook internally disagreed… but her tone wasn’t malicious. If anything, it was him who couldn’t concentrate on the tasks on hand, consistently working on autopilot when he'd explained them to her.

“Then eat up here before we find out you were wrong,” Jungkook joked, dropping onto the nearest bench.

He wanted to go back as soon as possible – but the whirring thoughts were an exhausting enigma.

He needed just a moment to figure out what the fuck was wrong with him before he arrived at the study table again, letting your mere existence cloud his brain once more. Once he’d see you again, he’d lose all rationality, he knew.

So for once, he was glad that Hayun kept him here, trapped with her. He knew she didn’t mean it in a bad way. She was out for more time with him alone, for the very first time showcasing any sign of interest when it was already too late.

Right now, she wanted to inhabit her selfish bubble without noticing that he might have moved on – but none of it meant she was inherently bad.

“Thank you for coming with me,” she said, legs crossed and her coat shut tight. The wind was cooler now.

“No problem at all.”

“Is it really not?”

Her voice was gentle and soft, a little worried even. She was a humble person, so no wonder he used to feel at least a bit of excitement whenever he saw her around.

Where did all that go, though?

“Why should it be?” He asked.

“You seem a bit distracted.”

He looked at her with slightly raised eyebrows, the question By what? in his eyes that even he knew the answer to. She bit into her hotteok, awaiting an answer with a lowered gaze. “No, that’s not it. I’m just stressed.”

Hayun didn’t seem to buy it – though she still played along, nodding a little as she met his eyes and assured, “No need at all. You were doing so well back there. If anything, I should be the one terrified.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re a lot smarter than me, seriously.”

Chuckling a little, Jungkook let out a deep, cold breath. It eased the tension in his chest a bit, but to his misery, her tender voice could still not shake your name off his mind.

Crossing his feet under the bench, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat. He hummed, smiling at her. “That’s nice of you to say, but have some confidence in yourself. It’ll turn out just fine.”

He didn’t know if she was honestly seeing him as superior, thinking she was worth less or lower on skills, or just trying to compliment him. From what he knew, people would always praise her grades, her abilities, her reasoning in arguments.

There was a lot to compliment about her. For a lot of people around campus, she was the picture perfect student and human being – ambitious, humorous, beautiful.

Thinking about it now… Looking at her like that. She was really pretty, he thought. Gorgeous even. Sweet and easy to talk to – strange how his heart didn’t jump even once with her so close to him.

And despite the confusion roaming his mind, it seemed that she misinterpreted his silence thoroughly, because the next moment, she was lowering the hotteok to the paper plate, putting it away and leaning in.

Sucking her colored, lower lip in, her gaze dropped to his mouth; and he noticed, knew what she was intending to do. But his frozen body kept him at place, suddenly not resisting her anymore.

And when she finally put a hand on his neck, tugging him close, and planted her pillowy lips against his… He kissed her back.

The warmth of her breath hit in the very next second, mouths moving in unison as his eyes dropped close. The hidden hand emerged from his coat pocket, carefully finding her waist to pull her closer. Soft gasps fell into his mouth, followed by a light touch of tongues.

And for those few, perplexed minutes, he adjusted to her pace. Let her sigh and tug at his hair. Let her play with his tongue. Helped her climb onto his lap; thought that’s what he’d needed to clear his head. A kiss from someone he’d regarded as a crush after all.

Only, moments later the sweet tinted kiss turned into something sharp. Like her lips were made of razor blades, cutting his flesh open when they moved to his jaw, stinging when she whispered, “Jungkook–”

And then something snapped.

That pain – someone moaning his name like that – ultimately reached deep into his chest and left an open, bleeding scar.

It wasn’t your voice. She wasn’t you.

And that was the problem.

He backed away, pushing her down gently and moving his head away. His lips felt uncomfortably swollen, and he wiped at them, trying to eliminate her taste and her scent… Her goddamn perfume.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hiding his face in his hands and rubbing. “Fuck, I’m sorry, that was… Fucking uncool of me.”

“It’s okay, I…” She stopped when he clicked his tongue in frustration, staring straight ahead with flickering pupils. “I started it. I shouldn’t have, I just thought that–”

He remained silent, blinking, still avoiding her eyes. His mouth felt strange, and he wanted the familiar taste back. Anything but this.

“I only joined the study group because Jin said you liked me,” she whispered. Jungkook closed his eyes in irritation for just a second, but then opened them to look at her with tightly pressed lips. “Used to like me, I guess. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck,” he whispered, laughing to himself bitterly. “I’m sorry, too.” The millionth apology didn’t cut it. If there was any chance you liked him back, you wouldn’t enjoy this piece of information. “Things have changed.”

But perhaps they shouldn’t have.

“It’s alright, really,” Hayun told him, inching away to put more distance between them. Figured he needed it. “I kinda knew something was off. I just… I hope you find some peace, because the confusion you’re in might harm you both one day.”

Tugging one side of his mouth upward, he asked, “You noticed?”

“I didn’t know about you. But I saw the way she kept looking at you.”

You did, right? He faintly remembered catching your stare once. And he remembered you catching his.

He wondered… What were you thinking right now?

Missing him? Studying on? Letting Seokjin persuade you?

The sky was darkening bit by bit, matching the gloomy mood. It eased up a little when Hayun finally stood, nodding toward your general direction. “We should head back. It’ll be okay, Jungkook.”

He smiled, but he wasn’t quite sure.

Because when they walked back, Jungkook squinted at the forms on the table as his wobbly body carried him to them. A quick headcount soon revealed that you’d left; and that you’d left alone at that.

Jin and Taehyung raised their heads toward him with cocked eyebrows, and Jungkook reckoned he couldn’t even have guessed their thoughts if he wasn’t still dizzy from and distracted by what had just happened.

Once Hayun bid her goodbyes, he realized that his friends weren’t particularly delighted to witness his late arrival, skillfully ignoring that it was them who caused the chaos of the moment at all.

Jungkook, with his hands curled into fists and his head hanging low, endured his friends’ scolding until it was time to leave. Scared of whatever emotions might face him when he arrived home, he strolled through alleys like a lonely wanderer, giving his thoughts a break – or rather, another opportunity to overthink – over a hot latte.

Justified worries.

Because when he stepped over the threshold of your apartment later that night, his friends’ anger couldn’t compare to the agony that your pain and damp eyes brought to his chest.

The question written in your eyes – “Where were you all this time?” – and your disappointment toward him shattered his heart. When he dropped on the couch and took in your numb expression, he was sure he’d pissed you off thoroughly after deserting you today.

He just didn’t realize yet that he’d, unintentionally, genuinely broken your heart, too.

–

It looks like rain when you close your bedroom door behind you. The straps of your holdall clutched tight, you walk toward the exit leisurely. You have plenty of time to get to the train station, but the small room and flat are suffocating you.

And in any case, it might be ideal to reach the station before it starts pouring down on you.

Setting the bag next to the living room door, you brush your fingers through your hair and then rub your tired eyes. Jungkook doesn’t say much as you walk over to the coffee table, sitting cross-legged on the couch. Seemingly only snapping out of his distraction (his phone) when you speak to him.

“I told you already, but I’ll be back in around a week, okay?” You gather your things laid out on the table haphazardly, pushing your phone into the pocket of your jacket along with your lip balm, earphones and keys. “Don’t forget to water the plants, or you’ll be a triple murderer this fall alone.”

Jungkook tilts his head and smirks, and when he clicks his tongue, murmuring a “Yeah yeah”, you add, “Plants are expensive! And we need some healthy air in here.”

He allows himself one small chuckle, letting his feet fall onto the carpet. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, and you smile back weakly. And when you turn around, he finally opens up.

“Hey.”

You’d keep your smile if the foreboding hint in his voice wasn’t so obvious. Your heart slowly climbs to your throat and lingers there just to beat like a bitch when he asks, “Can we talk?”

If it was up to you, you’d have a thousand things to say that you’ve been keeping locked in your head; but what he could possibly still have to say is a mystery to you. That is, until you allow him the conversation.

“Yeah but hurry. I really need to catch the train.”

A glance of his to the clock on the wall immediately reveals that he knows as much as you that there’s still plenty of time. But he nods, licking his lips. Pushing himself off the couch, he stands in the middle of the room, looking at the dust in the air. Staring at you as you put the keyring around your forefinger.

“I need to tell you something and it’s… important,” he admits quietly.

Taking in his slow movements attentively, you think they almost suggest something like a quiet apology.

And whatever it is… You really don’t think you’re ready for it.

“Yeah?” You still ask, but it sounds more like a confirmation.

Jungkook blinks a few times, pupils darting from the ground to your fiddling hands and back. He looks nervous – or scared? – and you can see his brain working on full power, insecure and hesitating.

But then…

“About…” He begins. He looks at you properly when you hum. “What happened that day with Hayun.”

Alarms immediately blare red in your little mind, shutting down your cognitive system. Somewhere amidst the chaos, you can still get a grip on yourself to tell him, “I don’t think I need to know…”

Though a hidden part in you can’t resist or push away the potential information; a heart is a masochist after all, no matter how much it tries to protect itself. So you’re scared but not entirely disappointed when he shakes his head.

“But you should,” he insists. “Because there’s a reason I was gone for so long. And I want you to know.”

You figured there is. And you figured that day might come. Why he chose today and right now, minutes before you leave for a week, is something you still can’t quite comprehend, though.

You take a few steps backwards until you hit the wall behind you, folding your hands against the small of your back. Looking at him is hard, but with whatever strength is left, you somehow manage to hold his stare and nod.

Misty, big eyes turn forlorn and begging when he starts talking. And as his story goes on, describing each detail and each feeling, you understand why. He stutters whenever he mentions her name, and blinks slowly whenever he assures how you haunted him that day.

How you were a constant in his mind even when you were barely ten minutes away. And then even when you’d left. When he entered a café he knew too well, scared of coming home, scared of how you might look at him.

You understand what he’s pointing at halfway through his explanations, keeping yourself steady when your knees are already buckling and your eyes burning.

Keeping yourself from crying drains you. The pain stretches endlessly.

Your heart jumps when he gets to the kissing part; how he reciprocated her advances; and it gets worse when he tells you that, “But there was something holding me back from her.”

Then, your blood freezes when he adds, “And now I know why.” 

And you dig your nails into your palms when he finishes his narration with, “I knew all the time, but I was too stupid to admit it even to myself. How could I admit it to you then?”

Okay.

You know what’s happening, but you can’t help but keep your hopes low nevertheless. As he spoke a minute ago, his mellow voice was comforting and soothing, as if trying to ease you through his words to lead up to a pleasant confession.

But said confession is scaring you now. Because the ache sits deep, no matter how mutual your feelings have become.

You’re weirdly frightened when he moves closer, inspecting your gaze when you don’t say anything. Merely clenching your jaw. When he sees you shaking, he reaches out at last, sneaking his arm behind you to wrap your fingers in his hand.

He moves in slow motion, but fast at once – because you don’t expect the fingers of his other hand to brush against your cheek the very next moment. How soft they feel, like you’re fragile; caring and careful.

You let your eyes fall shut, unshed tears dampening only your eyelashes when he speaks again. “I really like you and… It’s fucked up that you’ve started hating me.”

“What?” You whisper, eyebrows furrowed when you look at him again.

“You won’t even speak to me anymore, and it’s fucked up.”

He doesn’t mean it in an angry way at all – he’s blaming the universe, not you. Thinks that the world is fucked up, not you.

“I…” He goes for it again. Harder and softer; better and worse this time. “I’m in love with you. And I need you to know before you go.”

You don’t understand. Something in you expected it the moment he stood from the couch, but you still don’t understand.

“What are you saying–”

“It’s something I should’ve told you long ago, okay? I realized when I saw how you looked at me, and how you behaved in my presence and I just–”

“Kook…”

“I thought you felt the same,” he interrupts. “But I dunno, you… won’t even talk to me anymore.”

You sigh, then click your tongue, leaning into his touch weakly when your heart is trying so hard to back away. “Do you like me, because… Just because you think I like you?”

“No, that’s not it. I just.” More hesitation and stutter, slight annoyance about not being able to verbalize what he wants to say. You know that look, but it’s the first time it’s breaking your heart. “Pumpkin, when I’m with you, touching you and kissing you, and… Saying all those things–”

One step closer, bursting your heart; the misery in his eyes grows a little. You hate being in pain – but you hate his own affliction more.

“Then I mean all of it.” He removes his touch from your face, clutching your hand tighter until you wince. “You don’t feel it?”

“Jungkook, this is just… messed up.”

Might be the wrong word to describe the intensity of the turmoil you’re feeling right now. Seems that he doesn’t understand either when he asks, “Why?”

Why?

How do you tell him? You can barely figure it out yourself.

What if your thoughts don’t make sense to him when you can’t even explain them properly? You’re running out of words as much as he is.

“I don’t want you to fall in love with me just because we fucked and–”

“That’s not true,” he immediately defends.

“What, you were in love with me before?”

And to your misery, he doesn’t say anything.

You nod, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he doesn’t let you. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you mumble.

“But it’s not because we had sex,” Jungkook tries to explain, keeping you planted against the wall. “It’s because intimacy allowed me to see sides of you I didn’t know before, and I’m not talking about being fucking naked, but just… Everything about you. You’re…”

“What…?” You say, weaker and less firm than you intended.

“I just realized I don’t want to see you with anyone else anymore. I fucking hated it when Jin hit on you, and it’s just–” You roll your eyes as he speaks, regretting it immediately. “Okay. You don’t feel the same, is that it?”

You look at him. Put your free hand on his chest gently, then let it wander to his shoulder, to his neck. He moves closer, letting your fingers go to entwine his with yours.

“I think you know…” You whisper.

“Then…”

He doesn’t say more than that.

Immediate relief washes over him, though he isn’t entirely relaxed yet. Because his breaths are still irregular, hot and kind of fast when he leans in. His lips touch yours but don’t kiss you yet. Just like they did in the kitchen on Sunday.

Just a brush, warm and insane, whispering your name as you try not to fall.

Keeping your balance somehow.

“I just…” You speak into the silence. His movements stop, and he looks at you, suddenly nervous again. “It still hurts. I knew from the moment you came home that you’d kissed her. That you guys did something, you know?”

He shakes his head. “But I didn’t sleep with her or anything, we… We didn’t even leave the campus.”

But the extent of their actions isn’t what it’s about anyway. The fact that she ever touched him that way, and that he let her, hurts enough. “But you kissed her. You were supposedly in love with me and slept with me, and I know I didn’t own you and I still don’t–”

“I’m yours if you allow me, plea–”

“But,” you interrupt with a slight shake of your head, sighing. “But if I kiss you now, I’ll keep thinking of her, Jungkook. How it might’ve felt for you.” You gently bring your thumb under his lips, touching his jaw. “Whether kissing me reminds you of that day…” He leans into your touch, as if to soothe the pain. “Or if you’re confessing to me out of panic that I might stay hurt and just…”

“Pumpkin–”

It’s a slow and cautious whisper, and his eyelids fall close. Heartbreak and frustration are written in his pout. He’s in violent pain, just like you – he wants you, just like you want him. Something you’ve wanted for so long is so close now; and yet, it feels too rushed and insincere to give in.

You hate how emotions work.

“Pumpkin…” He whispers again – and suddenly, his eyes are too much for you to bear.

You finally push yourself off the wall, wrapping your arms around him with your ear against his heart.

“I don’t want this to feel like a rushed decision, okay?” You tell him quietly and softly, shutting your eyes tight. “I don’t want you to regret it.”

“I don’t think I ever could. And know that… when you come back next week,” as he speaks, you feel his chest vibrate; when he inhales, you hear it behind his ribs. “I’ll still be in love with you.”

You nod against him reassuringly. He’s so warm, it’s so fucking hard to leave at all.

Gathering strength once more, you tell him to think everything through; to not be affected by the fact that you’re leaving; to make sure his feelings aren’t deceiving him, that he needs to figure things out once and for all.

And then, he finally backs away and accepts defeat for now. He’s staring at the ground when you grab your holdall again, muttering without looking at you to please let him know when you’ve arrived at your childhood home safe and sound.

The rest of the broken conversation is as casual as can be, with the exception of his last “I’ll miss you” when you open the door.

When you step out of the building and into the gray and gloomy fall, you think that in your eyes, it looks like rain, too.

–

”What did I say when I called?”

Another memory?

You know what it is. Back when he came home drunk, when you spent the night with your sister and he interrupted it ever so softly with his inebriated babbling. When you’d tucked him in, still feeling warm from whatever he’d said on the phone.

”You just called to say that–” You remember the smile you gave him. Then looked at how his fingers were wrapped around your palm loosely, more affection in his grip tonight. ”That…”

Then, you leaned in, pushing his soft, dark hair back, clearing the path to his ear. When you spoke, he flashed a bunny grin, chuckling when your breath tickled him; and you whisper-revealed to him the very words he’d spoken just over an hour ago.

“That parties are super fucking boring without me,” you started, and he nodded, smiling again with closed eyes. “That you don’t know how you’ll ever learn to live without me one day.”

Jungkook mouthed a little, “So true,” but you weren’t quite done yet. He’d been cheesy tonight, and you wanted to let him know all of it before he forgot about it again the next morning.

“But you also said you could just marry me if you don’t find anyone else – all problems solved, no living without me. And – okay, that’s the worst part,” you said, leaning back again and playfully cringing. Still surprised he’d uttered those words at all. “You were an absolute sap today.”

“What was it?”

“You said, looking at things right now, you hope you don’t find anyone else anyway.”

“I said all that?” He asked, as perplexed as you that he was capable of more than constant banter and teases. Apparently, drinking brought out his soft sides – at least with you.

“You did…”

“Okay. I meant it then. I can feel that I meant it for sure,” he finished the conversation, keeping his eyes shut when he closed them this time.

His grip tightened around you for a second before it loosened again, his smile tranquil. You think he was thankful that you were talking him to sleep, bringing your knuckles to his cheek at last.

Then, he spoke, addressing your sister “Dunno if she can hear me, but tell her she has the best baby-sister-pumpkin-brat ever.”

And that’s where the memory ends again. You think that night was the first domino to fall, triggering the emotions you’re drowning in today – for the first time in ages proving once again that he wasn’t just a harmless friend to you. That he hadn’t been for long.

Thinking back, you should’ve known what his words meant – because maybe he’s right, and maybe his feelings did sit deep in his heart and he’s just realizing it now. Maybe it wasn’t the sex, the bare bodies, the fact that he noticed your affection before he did his.

When you open your eyes from the nap, blinking to adjust to your new surroundings, the recurring thoughts of his words today wane. The spiral that pulled you into sleep in the first place.

“I didn’t sleep with her. I wanted to get back to you, because I missed you.”

He always does – when you’re away, or when he leaves without you, he misses you. Every damn time.

Once your mind is awake enough, you finally revel in the greenery around you and push the ache aside. Endless fields and acres greet you before the sight is replaced with old stations and small town tales in the far distance.

Despite the painful nostalgia of the memories you collected here, a faded sepia today, it’s good to be home.

–

Small towns are fairy tales no one can truly describe. The quiet of neighborhoods, the intimate conversations, the cozy houses – no matter how many people yearn to get out of the hellhole to build a life in the city, returning elicits a feeling like no other.

You feel every bit of it when you climb the three stairs up to your childhood porch. When your parents wrap you in a tight hug, chatting their way through the living room until you drop onto the couch you know so well.

A familiar wooden scent of candles wafts through the air, mixed with the mouth-watering smell of the homemade food your parents probably worked on the entire day. They love cooking together – a picture you’re very used to yourself.

An hour into the initial tumult and inquiries, your sister arrives with her baby; her husband won’t be here until a few days later, having begged to get at least a few days off work. But right now, you’re content as it is.

You, her, your parents, together as you used to be. Well planned; so good to have everyone at the same place, even though your sister and your brother-in-law have now acquired their own little apartment here in town for their visits.

That night, you stay up with tea, binge watching bad television and playing monopoly heatedly. It’s the ideal distraction; you feel like you can finally breathe again. The air here is always different, more pleasant.

It’s like there’s a mystery in every corner of every room. Scratches on furniture and surfaces alike, and you know most of them came from you or your sister, though you can’t remember what exactly happened. Like a little game of Clue.

“You hit the vacuum cleaner against it,” your sister insists, pointing at a tiny damage at the foot of the dining table.

“Nope,” you shake your head. “Pretty sure you hit it with your foot when you got angry at me about something.”

“Nah, I think what you’re talking about is the cupboard upstairs, in my room.”

“No, I know we were dining when it happened!”

It’s a meaningless argument, but it takes you back, relaxes your chest. With the comfort of your family’s presence around you, even the most irritating of topics doesn’t hurt too much.

Like, when your sister finally asks, “Anything new happen with Kookie?”

Maybe you’re too tired or too lost in your vacation, because you push the sting away, shrugging your shoulders. “Yes and no. There’s still an entire convo left, but… something shifted, I think.”

“It did?”

You nod and hum, not really elaborating on the happenings of this morning. And she doesn’t ask. Lets you look at a dot on the floor, revisiting the moments when he touched your face, your lips, looked at you like he was breaking for you.

When the reality of your situation starts growing in your heart again, disrupting the fairy tale of the town, you’re fast to push it back again. And then, you fall asleep.

–

The next morning, you still don’t tire of repeating how different things feel right now. Like, when you wake up, holding a cup of warm milk as you stand on your porch. You pull your cardigan shut in the wind, though it’s warmer here than in the city.

You don’t know what woke you up so early today, but you don’t regret it. Love that you can actually see the sun as it ascends, because the buildings aren’t tall here. The neighborhood just consists of houses and gardens; family members who occasionally come out and wave at you once they recognize you.

They walk over the street, jog toward you and talk to you. Everyone knows everyone here – the friendly familiarity used to be an annoying phenomenon for Jungkook and you, but now it feels kind of nice. Better than the city where you only barely know the landlord; and even he has his hostile moments.

You spend half an hour just standing there, closing your eyes, feeling the breeze in your face. You do just that thrice a day; go for a walk once; and visit the grocery shop once, even if you don’t need anything much.

And on the third day, things suddenly change.

–

When you walk out of your house on the third morning, it’s not because of the tranquility of a small town fall or the hope to find another friendly neighbor strolling around. 

It’s the roar of a motorcycle, undoubtedly disturbing a family or two. Suspiciously close to your porch. Your father is an early bird anyway, so he groans as you pass the living room and his lazy form on the couch, doing something on his laptop.

You’re the first to meet the criminal’s eyes, and when you do, you wish you hadn’t.

They’re the same dark night sky that you’ve looked into on starless nights. The bambi pupils whose sweetness disappears when he cages you in between his body and the bed. The same gentle affection that mixed with pain before you left, begging and in love.

He’s holding the helmet under his arm, his stare indecipherable. For a moment, you freeze, sure you’re hallucinating – it must be your unconsciousness that’s subtly hinting at how much you actually miss him. Right?

“Wh– wait.” Blinking in disbelief, you look back to your house – you’re not sure why. Maybe to keep yourself busy, to give yourself time to think. “What’s… that?”

What as in this situation. You gesture to him, and he gets off the bike, brings it to a stand and moves toward you slowly. Under his yellow jacket, he’s wearing one of his old hoodies – you recognize it, because he loved wearing it during school days.

He should be cold in it. Riding a bike, you think he should be wearing something else in general. Something warmer. And perhaps some knee pads–

But his stance is relaxed and his face calm. Paired with his damn smile, you think he might be throwing you back in time on purpose. Back then, he’d sported bangs and a youthful grin; a soft, inkless hand in yours to keep you safe when you’d balance at the edge of the school’s rooftop.

Your heart hurts remembering the euphoric teenagehood you spent in harmless banter and irrelevant worries. Despite the clothes he fished out of his closet after years, so much has changed – the town, the people, you. But the beat of your heart is still the same.

“Hey,” he says tenderly, pausing in front of your porch.

“Jungkook… What are you doing…?”

Your voice is cautious and your steps hesitant; and maybe he interprets your confusion as hostility, because he steps back with raised eyebrows. The guilt in his eyes is visible even from here, and despite the mood you parted in, you want to calm his worries.

So when you walk towards him a little, tilting your head in empathy, he sighs and finds the courage to say, “I’m good, too, thank you.”

You allow yourself a smile, but drop it immediately when you scan his body again. Once again realizing that he’s, in fact, actually here. “No… I’m serious,” you ask, quietly over the wind. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s my home, too, remember?” He lifts his shoulders, innocence in his expressions that’s so different from the oblivious smiles you’d exchange under the sheets. “I missed it, too.”

“Is that why you’re here? Because you never told me you’d come.”

Jungkook’s stance turns a little awkward on his spot, like you’ve caught his little lie. Or perhaps it’s because your conversation stretches in the strangest way, much without progressing – until he gives in a little.

“Well, maybe you’re right… That’s not exactly what I’m here for, though it was–” Once again, he shrugs, flashing the lopsided, unbothered smile that you love so goddamn much. “–Kinda nice to see my brother’s frustration again when I took the bike.”

Somewhere in your head, you laugh, but on the outside, you’re still frozen. You wait. “Explain.”

“I…” He stalls, looking up into the sky. At the same time as he lifts his head, another cool breeze plays with his dark tresses, bringing back the magic of fairy tales. “I don’t know what to explain. Or, I– I’ve an idea, I’m just not sure it’s gonna work.”

“What idea, Jungkook?” You push, suddenly impatient. Your eyebrows nearly touch, your heart pounding a bit harder now that his voice and words are turning increasingly cryptic.

He doesn’t falter, though. Instead, he squints an eye shut when the wind worsens, smiling again. “Are you up for a walk, Pumpkin?”

“N-now?”

“Yeah?” He confirms unsure, raising a hand to the nape of his neck. “I’ll leave the bike here if it’s okay.”

As the first hints of panic ebb down, you pull yourself back into reality. You tell yourself that this is really happening and that finding a solution is imperative – so the first thing you do is swallow the ball of surprise.

Then, you look back to your house, shuffling your feet, and tell him, “Wait a moment…”

The next three minutes happen in a rush. You see him nod for just a moment before you jog into the house, closing the door with a deep breath before you run up the stairs, two at a time.

Your sister’s wallowing in the warmth of her bed and her blanket, going through the pages of her ebook that she’s been into lately, her sleeping baby next to her. When your cursing, distressed shadow flashes by her room, she calls your name curiously.

And when you don’t respond, blindly walking into your room and raiding your closet for your best jeans and jacket, she’s suddenly standing at the frame of your door. Eyebrows furrowed, she watches your impatient form, asking, “What the fuck is happening?”

Still bedazzled, you navigate through the power outage in your brain, still unable to make sense of anything as you infect your sister with your confusion. “Jungkook is here.”

A beat of silence. A sound of disbelief.

And then, “What?”

“He’s here,” you repeat, gesturing to the window.

Without hesitation, she walks to the back of your room, hiding behind your curtains sneakily before she looks back at you wide-eyed. “What the hell.”

“I know. I mean,” you say, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I’ll tell you later.”

She protests, voicing a few more confused syllables, hands raised halfway in the air. But you’re too preoccupied, too focused on the man waiting downstairs. Asking for a walk – potentially a conversation that might burst your heart in happiness or agony.

You don’t know what he’s here for – but judging from the confession he blurted before you left, you can’t ignore the nervous heartbeat. He put you on edge more than you wanted to; and it seems that looking into his face for just a second brought all of the tension back fast.

Jungkook’s skin is warm by nature, so you feel a sting of guilt when you see him rubbing his hands outside, stuffing them into the pockets of his jacket when he sees you exit the house. His little mole softens your heart – something about his smile is so careful and fragile.

“I’m glad we’re moving,” Jungkook says, trembling a little.

You breathe in the crisp freshness of the season, looking down the empty road. Still feeling bad. “I’m sorry I made you wait.” You lift your hand and the object in it. “I brought you a scarf.”

“I’m… Thank you,” he says, nodding thankfully before he wraps the clothing around him. “But I’d be willing to wait longer, you know?”

His voice is gentle, trying to regain the unserious, casual tone between you. It reminds you that you weren’t always this brittle in his company – that just a few weeks ago, you’d argue and banter and reprimand him when he forgot to turn off the stove.

Pictures of the city, your college and your room flash back into your memory, and with that, you remember again how much you neglected your bedroom to be in his for weeks just some time ago.

And with that, you remember his tender touches along your body.

You look at him, at the lines of his face. The curve of his lips. Remember them on your face, on your neck, on your shoulder. Remember that you weren’t the first he touched like that, and that you weren’t the last who tasted his tongue – and then…

You suddenly remember again why you’re in this situation in the first place. How much longer will it hurt? Maybe this very walk can set an end to it – you don’t really know what’s going on. You just want the ache gone.

Pulling yourself together, you apologize again, “I should’ve invited you in, though. I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry so much,” he teases, clicking his tongue. “It’s super cheesy. Scold me instead.”

Chuckling with him, you mumble something under your breath before you nod. “Okay. You’re an absolute fool for coming all this way just to freeze, Jungkook.”

“Did I really come to freeze, though?”

“I don’t know. You’re still not telling me anything.”

As if triggered, his smile falls, giving way to slight worry. “You’ll see.”

Not yet, though.

At first, you think he’s just leading you down the road, past the blocks and houses, attempting harmless small talk as you dive deeper into the busier part of the town.

Today, a couple of people are walking around, some with their pets, some alone. Streets on Sundays are always a little lonely, a little comforting.

Once you pass your former favorite bookshop slash café, you recognize the route. It’s one you know too well; you wonder what he might be wanting there. But you don’t ask, obediently walking next to him, tense but simultaneously proud now that you know how he feels about you.

It makes you look at him differently. Not anymore perceiving him as someone unreachable and unavailable, but as the boy you grew up with. Who’d have crushes on people, who’d live and breathe just the way you did.

Someone whose feelings aren’t closed off, who might be capable of loving you as much as you love him. When trapped in utter infatuation, one tends to forget that the other person is just that, too. A person, not a superior, higher being.

You don’t realize you’re ogling him until he suddenly stares back and smiles. His hair strands cover bits of his eyes, and he nudges your shoulder, asking, “What are we thinking about, Pumpkin?”

What are you thinking?

Too much and nothing at once. Too much about the past, too much about his humanity. Not enough about what you are to each other.

“Just,” you start, opting for another answer. “What are you doing? When did you arrive? What’s all,” you gesture to your surroundings, “that?”

“That,” he points to a shop, and you roll your eyes, already knowing what he’ll say. “Is mister Choi’s bakery.”

“You…”

“I know. I just…” Jungkook licks his lips, looking away. He laughs breathily, inhaling sharply before he looks at you again. “Do you still hate me?”

“I could never hate you,” you tell him; another dull pain to your chest. “Never, no.”

“Are you still mad?”

You pause. “I don’t know.”

“I just wanna try something, you know?” He says, and your confusion grows, your steps slower.

“You want to try something?”

He waits, thinking how to verbalize his thoughts.

“I… I told you I’ll stay in love with you… right?” Your eyes fall to the ground, your demeanor a bit shy; it’s unusual behavior between you. You nod. “And I am, but… I want to try this something.”

“May I know what?”

You don’t know if it’s your timid question or your quiet curiosity that delights him so much, but the way his fingers suddenly squeeze your cheek in affection floods a wave of electricity through your veins. You forgot what he feels like, though his touch feels like a habit when his hand brushes your face.

“No, of course not,” he tells you, winking sheepishly. 

“Of course not…”

“It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

The conversation is way too casual. 

Like a high school crush, something that starts tense, in hushed flirts and increasing hints. He and you have reached a state where those very hints have long turned into subtle confessions. The bit when insecure yearning turns into a slowly blooming flower.

When it starts feeling like things might come together soon.

The term in love sets you on fire on this cold day, and something in you hopes and begs that he’ll halt in the middle of the road, pull you against his heat, confess some more and pour his affection into you through his lips.

Despite the last argument you had with each other, you think that his presence here alone must mean more than you want to admit. That you might be a flower, too, blooming soon.

But he doesn’t kiss you.

Instead, he keeps walking, keeps grazing your shoulder all the time, loosening up more and more until he puts a hand on the small of your back once you pause your steps.

You might be able to focus on his palm more if you didn’t finally understand what he’s trying to do.

You stare at the low fence, separating you and the sports field of your high school. Jungkook, without hesitating, tries opening the chain-link gate, groaning at the fact that it’s, naturally, locked.

And before you can say anything much, the man is climbing over the damn fence. Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, and hastily, you look around – you’re alone.

“Are you serious?” Your voice reflexively turns into a whisper, though the low volume of your question won’t make any passerby blind to his actions. “What if they catch us?”

“They?” He asks from the other side of the fence, dusting off his hands. “Well, what can they do? Tell us to go away?” He gestures for you to join him, and you only blink. “Might bring some excitement into a cop’s life… Especially in a town like this.”

You roll your eyes as he chuckles away, proud of his joke; but you hit the gate lightly, speaking louder when he begins to step away. Still turned towards you.

“No, but,” you say through gritted teeth. “They might arrest us for trespassing, you idiot!”

“Hey, if it’s any consolation to you,” he assures. “I’ve done this a few times when I was younger.”

You blink again. “With whom?”

“Like, with Jimin.”

“You’re fucking insane,” you say, but to his amusement, your fear still evaporates.

You crack your knuckles, readying yourself for the tiny, easy task that stepping over the gate is, and then climb over smoothly. Jungkook, on the other side, stretches out his arms to catch you, though you land swiftly on both feet, before his warm palm wraps around yours.

The touch is comforting and soft to an alarming degree. To your own surprise, your body betrays you the moment he squeezes your hand, leaning into him as if it’s second nature to you.

Wordlessly, he looks around, leading you to the bleachers. You’re still shaking your head while you listen to him saying, “Nothing has changed. Still the same old boring school we knew.”

He’s right – then again, you don’t know why you expected this place to be different today. Just because you changed, it doesn’t mean everything around you did, too.

“You’ve finally lost it, seriously,” you say.

To which he pulls you closer by your hand, defending himself immediately. “Remember that I’m doing this just for you. My insanity is owed to you.”

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry,” you tease sarcastically.

“Don’t be. It feels kind of good.”

“Being a criminal for me feels good?”

“It’s…” He hesitates, sighing, and then looks at you with the bittersweetest tenderness in his eyes. “It’s the first thing I’m doing for you in a long time. And you haven’t properly smiled at me in so long, so… please let me do this.”

And that’s when you finally shut up. 

Once he’s killed your playful complaints, you find the time to take everything in once more. It feels a little like climbing up the stairs as a sixteen year old. Only then, you’d mostly be the one watching from above while Jungkook worked his legs off on the field.

The times he’d keep you company on the cold bleacher seats were plenty, but short, spending a few minutes up to half an hour when you’d find a quiet place to eat lunch. When the field was empty. When you’d have free periods or were too reluctant to go home yet.

You only speak again when you finally take a seat, watching him dig into the deep pockets of his jacket to pull out a samgak kimbap for each of you. It looks somewhat squashed, probably hard to eat, but it’s always been like that, right?

The granola bars and KitKats he’d bring for the both of you. Always stuffed in his pockets carelessly, but still carried to you with love, because he’d always bring two, always thinking of you.

“Didn’t know if you’d eaten already, but just thought…” He tells you, and you grip the package between your fingers gently.

“I did, but,” you say, carefully opening it. “I think I’ve room for a little snack with you.”

He nods proudly but slowly, just as cautious with his portion as you. And only when half of yours has vanished, does he ask, “Is the flavor okay?”

“Mhm,” you confirm. You shoot a glance to his portion, nudging his elbow. “I like yours better, though.”

“You wanna share?” Immediately, he stretches his kimbap toward you. “Or you can just have the whole thing.”

“No. I’ll just keep giving you jealous looks.”

Easing the tension isn’t as simple as it sounded in your head. With the misty insecurity between you, the still lingering fight and the missing conversation, you fear a stutter from your side all too soon.

“Stop it,” he says with a laugh, bunny teeth so youthful. Awkwardly, he rips his kimbap apart, bringing the disfigured bite to your lips, encouraging you. “Take some. Pretty destroyed, but edible.”

So you give in. Like a kindergarten child who shares affection through tender actions; who stares into someone’s eyes who could or could not turn out to be a lifelong friend.

Maybe between you, even with the already established lifelong love, you can turn this relationship into something more, something more profound and eternal.

“Now you gotta take a bite from me, too,” you tell him.

To which he freezes for a second, looking at you bewildered. “Oh yeah… I could’ve just offered you a bite instead of demolishing it.”

You laugh. “You’re stupid, Jeon, but you proved that in geography class already.”

“Hey, that was primary school. I don’t bring up when Miss Lee read the letter aloud you wrote to her when–”

“Oh woah, wait, now this doesn’t compare to you thinking that New Zealand’s in–”

“Shut up,” he warns, his voice overshadowing yours, but the grin on his face betrays him. You lean back when he attempts to cover your mouth, and suddenly, his fingers are on your back. Quieter, he says, “You… gotta shut up.”

You stare into the dark, shiny gems; big eyes focused on you, his chest close to yours. You draw a shaky breath, slowly returning into your previous position, but his palm stays where it is.

“Or what?” You challenge quietly, all romantic and dreamy bits of you gathered in your words.

He looks as lost as you feel.

“I don’t know…” He admits. “Would it be strange to say that… That everytime you ramble too much… Or tease me like that? I kind of want to kiss you.”

Until now, the conversation seemed to follow your younger selves’ childish chitchat:

Amusing and dorky, stupid little arguments that mostly ended in senseless giggles, sometimes in irritating remarks. From how close you sat to each other to the sharing of cheap snacks. His nose scrunches and your jests; the season when leaves fell in spirals, but your friendship blossomed.

But this…

“It’s not strange,” you let him know. “But… A little off script.”

The script as your teenage self used to know at least.

He says, “Things have changed. The script really needs to change, too, Pumpkin.”

“...Really?”

Softly and sweetly, he pinches your chin between his fingers. Raises your head a bit more, brushing back your hair. You hold the snack tight, and think you’re crushing it once and for all as he looks at you with deep attention.

He sighs. Then closes in. Within the matter of moments, your heartbeat stops in your throat, and you think that even the wind stops blowing for a second. A soft mouth inches closer, eyes shutting, and then you feel his lips – on your nose first, then on your forehead.

And that… That’s where the moment seems to end.

Indescribable fondness aside, Jungkook leans back with a radiant smile on his face. Still dreamy somehow, but less serious; like his plan is proceeding out of order. Like this wasn’t meant to happen yet.

And even when you finally ask, “What now?” he doesn’t succumb to his yearning for your lips.

Instead, he hums, hints of his joker self back in his eyes, and as he lets you go again, he asks, “Now… How about some workout?”

“Workout?”

“Yeah, that’s literally the only reason we’re here,” he says as he takes off the scarf and lets it fall next to you, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

With a pfft, he stands, stuffing the package in his pocket before he shakes his limbs. “It’s a good day to run a little.”

“To run?” You ask. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“Why would I? I didn’t eat a whole meal or something–”

“But–”

“I won’t, I promise. Will you sit here and cheer me on?” Taking a few steps down, he looks back. When you attempt to stand, he gestures to you to stay here. “It’s gonna help me focus on your voice instead of my stomach, right?”

“Kook, I don’t think that’s how it works–”

“Maybe it does!”

“Jungkoo– Okay.”

You drop your protesting hand once he’s too far out of reach, jogging down the steps before he starts warming up. Publicly, Jungkook usually knows how to stay put together and calm, but somehow, he unleashes a silly beast when he’s with you.

Which is refreshing – because you think that, ironically, his exaggerated jumping jacks are what plaster a smile on your face after he broke you in the first place.

Sometimes, what hurts, that heals. What hurts, that comforts. Sometimes the source of pain is the most effective remedy too, if handled correctly.

“Three laps!” He yells once he’s done with a few stretches and quick exercises; and then, he’s suddenly running.

Fast at first, an insane speed that you almost forgot. He’d always do that years ago. Heck, he even does that now sometimes. How does last month feel like a different lifetime?

Tanked with determination, he finishes one lap, passing the bleachers as you cup your mouth and cheer, “Two more! No losers in this house!”

It’s something you’re used to doing during his soccer practices. Only now do you realize how much you missed it.

Jungkook exclaims your name from every side of the field, delighted by the echoes that fill the field. Your heart feels like exploding into pieces, going from calm to frantic at the speed of light. 

His enthusiasm is as contagious as ever – and you want to scold him, tell him to stop now, but at the same time, you can’t stop the breathtaking laughter. 

The second round ends, and without a notice, he somersaults, filled with fire and vigor. At one point, he almost trips, catching himself immediately. God, he’s too chaotic and energetic, feet so fast that he doesn’t seem to be able to stop.

You get on your feet, covering your hand in pride, and when he’s only a few yards away, you yell, “You’re insane, but you made it!”

And then… Once in front of you, he does finally trip. On his knees and hands against the ground, head hanging low, he remains in that position. You gasp, his name falling out of you broken, worried as you rush down the stairs before he informs, “I’m okay.” 

As you step onto the field, you think once again how this place hasn’t changed. The automatic movements towards him, worried about injuries – it’s like you’ve done it a hundred times. It feels too achingly familiar.

God.

How ironic the world is, you think.

How the consistency of the school shaped you throughout the years, gave you a sense of familiarity: always the same halls, always the same rooms, always the same roof. A warmth that allowed a dozen bonds between you and others.

A warmth that came when you and your friends wrote your names on the bathroom wall on the ground floor; still there when you’d checked it on graduation day. Or the warmth that flooded you whenever you’d tell Jungkook to have lunch at your usual place, on the roof of the school while overlooking the town.

How you’d sit on the very bleachers you just left, cheering him on when he’d do his workout challenges after school or during long breaks. With its never changing quality, this school made you form habits. Made everything around you change.

Your relationships, your feelings, your youth.

Kind of insane.

“You’re either too careful or not careful at all, you idiot,” you tell him, shaking your head. You resist your dreamy little thoughts and snap out of nostalgia, though it still lingers when you look at him. Because…

Because when he laughs, you think you might’ve giggled, too, without the nostalgic sting of tears in your eyes… If you weren’t so caught up in the fact that he looks exactly like his teenage self right now.

You reach his kneeling form when he’s leaning back, looking up at you with one eye squinted shut. His breath is fast, light sweat shimmering on his forehead. 

He’s panting when you kneel down in front of him, saying something through his breath that sounds like, “Careful, dirty ground–”

But you stop his sentence halfway when your arms wrap around him tight. Once more, you hear his heartbeat against your ear, a favorite sound that haunted you when you were away from it.

Despite the relaxation that your town brought, you only realize now how much you missed it. How much you missed him –  though that’s nothing you’d ever doubt.

As his heartbeat calms, his hands find their way to your back. Much like you, he presses you against him, never questioning your motifs but drowning in the moment.

You feel his fingers in your hair a moment later. His lips grazing your scalp. Both of you on your knees on your high school outdoor field, melting into one silently.

“I…” He finally whispers, close to your forehead; his voice is strained, hurting and simultaneously healing. “I promise you that you’re my best friend. No matter what… For the rest of my life.”

“You don’t have to doubt anything, Kook,” you say. “Even though you can make me walk away… You’ll never make me fall out of love with you.”

And you think that’s when something inside him breaks. Because his nails dig into your jacket, and you hear his heart skip a beat.  He could back away, kiss you the way he needs to – and even though you’d let him, you think this very moment is far more precious than a kiss might be.

His next inhale is deep, and he doesn’t find the courage to let go.

He says just one more thing.

“I missed you so much.”

–

The way home is cold.

Might be because he dragged your ass to a fast food diner you used to love, always making sure that you eat – and now it’s getting dark and cold. The time passed easily, and none of you mentioned the little occurrence barely an hour ago.

The fact that you’re both still in love with each other, the fact that you both know. Your lips against his chest, his arms around you, on your knees until the wind got too freezing.

And now that the day is slowly coming to an end, you’re just as confused as before. Not about his feelings, and certainly not about yours. But he was planning something, wasn’t he? Did he succeed? What was it anyway?

Why is the sun going down already, and why do you still not have the answers to what’s happening between the two of you?

And why are you being such an idiot, avoiding communication and instead babbling about something utterly insignificant?

You guess Jungkook is just as sick of stalling as you are somewhere inside, because once you reach your empty neighborhood, his strings of patience finally break.

A strong hand grips your elbow as you’re explaining your deep-rooted hatred for your middle school Chemistry teacher. Fast and smoothly, he pulls you into his body. Breaks your train of thoughts immediately, tilting his head a little.

“I think it’s enough now,” he mumbles. He stares into your lost, blinking eyes, slowly shaking his head. “How are you not sick and tired already?”

You lower your gaze a little, looking at his chin. Your fingers move to his biceps, trying not to think too hard about the arms around you, so your knees don’t give in.

No use, though.

Because all you need to say is, “I am… I’m exhausted, Jungkook.”

And in the next moment, your eyes are closed, his lips pressed against yours. Warm and soft. Parting your mouth.

He angles his head some more, deepening the kiss. A million butterflies break out of their cocoons, wild in your stomach. You hold onto him as tight as you can, because you feel dizzy, only slightly distracted by the aggressive pounding of your heart.

His hand moves to your face and holds your cheek, and he sighs into your mouth as he lets his tongue slip through. You’ve kissed him so many times – felt the fever he ignites a dozen times.

But his soft, sweet, painful taste right now births an entirely new sensation behind your chest. Because this feels real – it doesn’t feel temporary.

Not like pleasure that will fade. Intensity rooted in the moment that will give way to hopelessness. No… This is different.

When he backs away, your face is burning. A thumb brushes the spot under your eye, and you look at him with a foggy gaze.

The tip of his nose touches yours as he says, “I’m exhausted, too. So done with it.”

“Jungkook…” You whisper, holding his hand on your face. “Why did we do all that?”

“What, Pumpkin?” He asks, sighing. “Fall in love? Part? Kiss? Because I don’t want you to regret it, I just…” His voice drops lower. Laced with frustration. “I want this to keep going.”

“No…” That’s not it. If it was up to you, you’d never stop. But. “All of it today… What did it mean?”

“I just wanted to–” He shrugs his shoulders, as though he’s not quite understanding his own plan. “To remember what it was like to fall in love with you for the first time.”

The first time.

How many times have passed? How many times did it happen before he let it go again? As often as for you?

He continues, “I don’t know how I forgot about it, but… It hurts a bit right now. Feeling it again hurts.”

“Why?”

“Because things were easier back then. I should’ve told you more often what you meant to me. Way before this whole shitshow. And all I can do now is try to prove to you what you are to me, and that I mean my feelings for you…”

He pauses.

“No one else matters.”

That’s why he’s here – to regret and then let go. To confirm he didn’t fall for you just now; that the feelings that carry your name emerged long, long ago. That reliving your old habits, catapulting you back in time made him realize as much as you that you’d always been more to each other than you admitted.

“And now?” You ask.

“Now…?”

“What do I mean to you now?”

“It didn’t change. It’s just– clearer now. And less childish.”

Less childish.

Eyebrows furrowed, your hands still on his arm, you want to know, “What does that mean?”

“It just means that… I won’t hide my feelings or deny them anymore. I won’t stuff them back just to make them reappear years later. Again. I won’t be able to take that.”

“Kook…”

“And yeah, you–” He brings his other hand to your other cheek, lightly squeezing your face in his grip. “You were wrong, you know? I wouldn’t regret being with you. No matter whether I rush a decision or not, it’s still a decision, and I don’t want to back away from it anymore.”

You want to interrupt, but he doesn’t let you.

“You’re wrong because I didn’t fall in love with you just yesterday or just because you did. I didn’t even know for sure what you felt. But you didn’t change overnight and you definitely didn’t change for me overnight. The only thing that changed is that I stopped being stupid.”

And you thought those dialogues only existed in movies. Guess you can’t be too surprised, because your life turned into a dramatic piece a few weeks ago, too. How disgustingly intense it is.

Damp eyes meet his, and you sniffle, breathing to keep the tears at bay. You laugh quietly, fingers sneaking to the nape of his neck. Shit, it feels so good holding him like that.

“You’re… So cheesy, Jeon Jungkook,” you joke, and it elicits a breathy laugh out of him. Your foreheads connect. “Besides, you’ll always be an idiot.”

“I can be cheesier, honestly–”

“No, you’re… I don’t know what to say to all that.” Or maybe you do. Lack of communication is what brought you this chaos in the first place. No more old mistakes. “It just. It still hurts, but… you didn’t mean to hurt me, right?”

His face deflates a little. “Of course not… And I know the whole– the whole Hayun thing was messed up, but I guess I struggled with my feelings for you in a messed up way from the beginning. And I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t wanna kiss her?”

“That's why I pushed her away…”

“You were too busy thinking about me?” You ask, gradually letting the hurt fall. It might not evaporate just now… It might take you weeks. But you’d be stupid to let him go because of such childish drama. “And you… You missed me?”

Jungkook laughs, swaying you a bit, and you find the courage to hope for a better future. “I did. I missed you so much, all the fucking time, I just– I’m a moron, Pumpkin.”

“Yeah…”

“And I– I know your thoughts are as chaotic as mine, but just tell me one thing, okay?” You nod, so he speaks on. “It’s like a stupid needle is puncturing my heart, and that’s not how loving you should feel like right now, so… Could you just say again that you–”

You understand. You know right away – even though the sudden drop of the L-bomb whirls your thoughts.

“I do, too,” you reassure. “I really do, too, Kook.”

–

Estimated twelve minutes later, you’re engulfed by the comfort of your childhood home.

You bet you would’ve been here quicker, if your over enthusiastic family hadn’t given Jungkook the heartiest welcome. Then, the hassle with his bike that your father helped him store in the garage for the time being.

It was the first thing you told the men to do when you arrived.

Because you’re not letting him go anywhere anymore tonight.

The initial welcome process and greetings were rushed, though. All your family members were distracted by their preparations to pick up your brother-in-law from the train station.

For some odd reason, of course they all need to go, storming the train station in a group. Due to the lack of car seats, you’re able to stay back; and you reckon Jungkook’s presence is an even bigger excuse to avoid the little chaos.

So you stay tangled up under your softest, favorite Gravity Falls blanket that you must have loved since you were around fifteen. The original plan was to find a quiet and warmer spot to talk about the both of you; to look at each other, clear open questions; to kiss each other until you fell asleep.

You don’t know how you got to this very point. Must have started when you grabbed the remote of your TV, opened Disney+ intuitively and watched Jungkook go feral at the sight of Avengers: Endgame.

As a professional entertainment-masochist, he’s always eager to relive the movie’s pain. And seeing the sparkle in his eyes, you couldn’t resist but push away your own urge to inhale Monsters Inc. once again.

More than one half into the movie, you comment on occasional, typical Marvel jokes, impressed by the plot but annoyed by Thor’s character development – and you’re ranting once again when you suddenly realize that he hasn’t moved in the last twenty minutes.

Quiet, his questions and answers gone, a leg draped loosely over you. His breathing is relaxed, soft. And when you turn around, you gaze into a sleeping doe’s face, lips parted.

You have no intention to wake him up and reach out to your bedside table slowly to turn the movie off. But when you push your body back into his, he groans.

There’s a slight redness in his eyes when he opens them, lightly smacking his lips. Once he’s taken you in, he smiles, as if he’s realizing yet again where he is. The sounds of fights and explosions blast through the TV speaker, and he asks, “Ah fuck… How much did I miss?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you tell him, pulling the blanket up. “We can watch the rest later or tomorrow.”

“No no, I wanna watch it though. I’m fine.”

You wipe his hair aside; the gesture isn’t new to you, but it still doesn’t feel the same this time. The clear shift in your relationship oozes through your fingertips.

“Really? You sound exhausted,” you tell him.

“Yeah,” he says through his yawn, sighing. “I didn’t sleep so well the last few nights.”

Some of your smile fades. You don’t ask him why. Thinking back, you remember that haunted nights only occur for him when he’s distressed, and the current fall break makes obvious that his agony didn’t come from school this time.

You ask him something else.

“When did you get up today?”

“Early,” he says, slowly waking up. “Had to catch the train and all.”

“You could’ve taken a later one…”

“Believe me when I say,” he begins, pausing with a quiet laugh. “That I was getting real impatient.”

You told Jungkook that healing needs time. Told him that the scars the two of you inflicted on yourselves will take a bit to fade, that the last weeks drained you too much to recover immediately.

But right now, as you look at him like that, you actually believe that you’ll be okay. That this is just a small hurdle in your relationship; that worse fights might happen, but that you’ll travel half the world to stick together if need be.

So despite the faint ache still lurking around somewhere, there’s a level of comfort you feel right now that you can’t let pain ruin for you.

“You really do a lot for me,” you deduce. “Can barely imagine how much you like me.”

“Probably not.”

He leans in, gripping your cheeks to pull you closer and plants a kiss under your eye. Hair strands of his tickle your face and ear, and once he notices, he teases you for a minute longer. The disgusting craze of a new couple keeps your childish giggles alive.

But once you calm down, only serenity remains. The silent stares, the subtle touches. The random smiles and regular sighs.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask once a layer of hypnosis covers his dark eyes.

He shakes his head just barely, blinking slowly. “Not much… I’m just looking at you.”

“Yeah? Does it feel good? Looking at me.”

“You’re like… Gorgeous. What do you think?”

You laugh: at the butterflies in your stomach, the absurdity of them, about how much this feels like falling in love for the first time. Thrown back into teenage years, when you first noticed you might have developed a crush on him; the way you’d squirm when he made you feel warm.

Like now.

It’s odd how you can’t compare your current feelings and this moment to your former relationships. Because thinking back, no matter how many serious boyfriends you had, none of them were your first love, right?

Thinking back, you might’ve always just looked for a Jungkook in them; making clear time to time again who the very first person was who meant this much to you.

“This feels good,” you tell him, vowing to never leave this bed again. “Relieving.”

“I know. I think so, too.”

His words leave him in another sigh, breathed out; and as he whispers the last one, he draws closer to you like a magnet. One more slight pull, one slight tilt of his head, and your lips find their way back to yours.

The kiss you share is more intense this time, away from potential witnesses’ eyes. The urgency in his actions is clearer now, tongue working against yours immediately. You let out a breath against his mouth; pissed that you can’t melt into him.

Low, subtle sounds of the both of yours become one, hands exploring each other. The ball of heat growing in your stomach is unbearable, but you still shiver. 

You press yourself into him, harder until there’s no space left, fingers suddenly under his shirt, tracing his back. A tiny moan of yours spurs him on, and you gasp when his hand squeezes your ass hard.

Eyes suddenly wide, you realize your situation: If you listen close enough, you can still hear your family walking around downstairs. So you break the kiss, moving around, and work fast on the remote to turn the volume up.

But you don’t get another moment to face him again, because the innocent hand on your stomach suddenly tugs you against him, ass against his crotch. His digits move up to rest lightly over your chest, and his teeth pull your shirt off your shoulder before he kisses your skin wet.

Your thoughts twirl at the speed he operates in; within a moment, he’s kissed a hundred of your nerves, driving you insane. Another second passes, and a palm is cupping your already reacting pussy, the other gripping your tits.

“Jungkook–” You begin, and he hums, not as much in reality anymore as he was a few minutes ago.

You breathe out when he starts kissing your neck; you feel his hot tongue draw circles, making you curse. One more squeeze of your tits and he moves on to put his fingers under your neck, pushing your jaw up to kiss your neck better.

“What about the movie?” You whisper, surprised when he hears it over the Avengers’ noises.

“Fuck the movie,” he says, his voice tempting and low. “Today, I’ll make you cry instead of crying myself.”

Between your wiggles and moans, you laugh. “Can’t watch your hero die again, huh?”

“...Too soon.”

“It’s been years no–”

Your sentence breaks when he pushes his hand under your panties, barely brushing over your pelvis and clit. “Be quiet…” He orders, the tone so seductive that you shut your legs.

“My family’s still home, Kook…”

“Yeah. So be quiet, okay?”

Dropping pieces of your sanity bit by bit, you nod obediently. He takes it as his sign to play on – torturing you more as he nibbles at the shell of your ear, setting off a million explosions inside you.

Delicately, you move to challenge him, rubbing your ass against his growing dick. A mind-numbing moan of his spurs you on almost unconsciously; your body can’t still when he’s busy with your clit like that.

“Unfair beast, you,” he jokes behind you, breathing hot into your ear.

“You started this,” you whisper. “Once again blaming me, I see…”

The stiffness in his pants increases with each moment, so inviting that you bring your hand back to trace the length over his clothes. Makes you sick, the sheer beauty of his body: hard pecs against your back, wide shoulders and strong arms warming you.

A dick so firm, you salivate.

Fighting through your panties and pants, he pushes them down to your knees, and then immediately comes back to part your thighs. The difficulty of the situation makes you laugh, and when it proves too annoying, you give yourself a moment to kick your pants off. 

It's sacrilege to wear them to bed at all.

And once your lower side is bare, he immediately gets back to work, pushing a finger into your cunt without a warning. Muffling your sounds, you bury your face into the pillow, squeezing your eyes shut when he begins moving.

“God, this is already so hot, I… want you so bad,” he murmurs, biting into your shoulder.

“How bad, Koo–”

“Like…”  His motions are rhythmic and deep, his fingers curved, and the next thrust hard. “This. But more.”

More. This is so much already. Fingertips pressing against your favorite spot; behind your closed eyelids, you see space and stars.

And those galaxies grow more dense as he adds another finger, making you mewl – but before he can kill the last of your rationality, you hear steps outside in the very next moment.

Your ears perk up, your head lifting, but he keeps his fingers inside you. As if challenging you, he keeps pushing and pulling through your wetness, and as you grab his hand, you ask, “You locked the door… R-right?”

“We’ll find out.”

“I hate you, what the fuck.”

The last word dies against your pillow again, and he grabs your chin to bring your face back up. Not a fan of hidden sounds still. But you can’t be loud right now, and you pulling at his hand does absolutely nothing against his strength.

Which is kind of hot, you got to admit.

“I’m just joking,” he clarifies, laughing. “Yeah, I locked the door.” You sigh in relief. “I think.”

You want to protest, but he shuts you up effectively when he delivers one knuckle-deep push, leaving your chin to drop two fingers of his free hand into your mouth. And you don’t waste a second, sucking the way you want to something else – and he goes wild quietly.

“Shhh,” he says, pressing against your tongue. “God, stop moving your ass, you– I’ll cum in my pants, and that would not be ideal.”

Fucking hell. On any other day, you’d make a joke of his demanding tone, scoff and tell him to do his shit himself. But the way he’s taking control now, getting off on your struggles turns you on infinitely in return.

His warning burns seething hot in you, but you manage to sound somewhat sane as he removes his fingers from your tongue. “Yeah, guess not… Unless–” You sigh deeply, intrigued by the wet sound down there. “I miraculously find some of your… your old joggers lyin’ around–”

“Sounds nearly impossible.”

“Then… hold back, big boy.”

“Brat.”

A sharp slap lands on your clit, fingers out of you so suddenly that you whine. The built-up orgasm crawls into the back, and you inhale through your nose to focus on getting rid of your clothes instead of complaining to him.

Hastily, you pull your shirt over your head, hearing him do the same until you’re both skin to skin, warmth against warmth. With his arms around you gone, you use the moment to turn around and pull the blanket up again.

You kiss your way down his body slowly, hidden under the blanket. “That okay?” You ask as you lick a stripe on his firm golden chest; his dick soon rests hard between your tits, and you rub for a moment before you descend further.

“Don’t do it for too long, though…” Jungkook tells you, and you can imagine why.

As hard as his cock and balls are when you put a hand on them, you don’t think he’d last long if you sucked his soul out of him now. Resting against his stomach, you lift his cock, promising him, “Next time then.”

“Next time, yeahhh….”

He sounds fucked out beyond imagination. Even worse once you finally lick the precum off his tip – his hand automatically buries in your hair. You lick down his shaft first, slowly and softly, following his protruding veins.

You kiss up and down, spitting on his tip, spreading it with your hand. The head gets its well deserved attention when you whirl your tongue around it, listening to the controlled sounds coming deep out of his chest.

“Careful, fuck,” he says again when you tease his balls lightly, feeling a tug at your hair. “Fuck, why can’t I see you?”

The blanket disappears from over your bobbing head. You wrap your lips around his cock, sucking devilishly – not stopping when he exclaims something unintelligible. And when he sees you committing your sins, you think he loses it entirely. 

“Oh my fuckin’– can you… chill, for God’s sake,” he asks, and you see the goosebumps on his skin when you establish eye contact. ”Chill.”

Against his dick, you smile a little, flattening your tongue and sucking with hollowed cheeks once more before you let go with a plop. “Only today… Just ‘cause I want you, ‘kay?”

One more kiss, a light laugh when he moves his hips up, and then you lift your body, delighted by his heavy breathing and hazy eyes. He watches your face, and you watch his frustrated expression as you tell him, “Next time I’ll swallow.”

Your promise triggers something intense in him, because the clench of his jaw is almost aggressive. He lifts his body so fast that you shriek, impatient hands grabbing your arms and pressing you back down into the mattress.

He leans in within a second to kiss you hard, biting your lower lip before he emerges again. A tower above your body, his forehead sweaty. “You really have me craving you like that…”

“Like that?” You ask, arching your back when it’s his turn to move down your body.

“Like… Wanna devour you.”

His voice is dangerous, like you’re his prey. His kisses burn on your skin; your fingers already clutch the sheets when he sucks at your sensitive nipples, pulling at them lightly with his teeth.

All the while, he watches you. Sees the way you lick your lips, furrow your eyebrows and move your body. His gaze is hungry and intimidating, though his fingers touch your skin carefully.

At least until he arrives at your overflowing cunt.

His hands reach down your ass and lift your hips just a little, pulling you down the bed. He digs his nails into your flesh, head settling between your legs. And when he’s so close to your sex that you can feel his breath against it, he orders, “Open up.”

And you listen. Allowing him to do his thing, even if just for a minute.

For this whole minute, his tongue pushes into your pussy. For that minute, he licks up and down your slit, kissing your clit, groaning against it and eating you out like you’re his last meal on earth.

For those approximately sixty seconds, his hair brushes your pelvis, his thumb massaging your clit. And you don’t know what it is that snaps inside you, but once he spits into your pussy and wraps his lips around it again, the orgasm finally hits.

Hard. Like a truck.

“Fuck, fuck,” you exclaim, wanting to cry. “This– embarrassing–”

”No,” he whispers when the high subsides, coming up to kiss you gently. “Beautiful.”

“That was… a lot,” you say.

Jungkook laughs, pecking your nose as his weight falls onto your body bit by bit. His cock still hard and wet against your stomach, he pulls the blanket back onto the both of you, holding your face in his hand.

“You’re still on the pill?” He then asks, moving his hips just a bit for relief.

“Yeah,” you say, touching his mole lost in thoughts. “Told you so many times, but you…”

“I know.”

A quiet pause.

“Why did you?” You finally ask.

There were a few unpleasant ideas you had in your head. That he slept with others. That he didn’t want you that intimately. That he didn’t trust you. But what he says isn’t what you expected.

“I just wanted to be sure,” he whispers, hoping you’ll hear. And you do – by now, the movie has long become background noise. “It felt like… such a big commitment? And I know it’s just contraception, but it felt like the line between our friendship and my feelings for you would fade too much. And…”

He hesitates, stops looking at you, so you help him out. “And?”

“I told you I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what you felt, so I was scared you’d reject me if I ever told you what I feel.”

Okay. You know everyone’s worries are valid, and that a human being cannot turn them off. God knows you struggled with the same issue for weeks now.

But this–

“That’s the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard. Because I was really damn obvious,” you scold, and his eyes blow wide. Lips pouting so sweetly that his look doesn’t fit how naked you are. 

“I… I thought I was too, baby. But love really does make people blind.”

Love.

That word again. So big, yet not quite conveying what you feel for each other.

“Do you… really love me?” You ask.

You move your hand up and down his smooth back until it stills in his hair. You pull him down to feel his lips against yours, not kissing you but close enough.

He sucks in a breath, his eyes a little scared. As if you wouldn’t reciprocate if he told you yes. But he still does. Somewhat. “Did you not realize yet?”

“I guess I do now.”

“Good.” 

Distracted, he lifts his body from yours and brings his hand to his member. You know he’s stroking it a bit when he closes his eyes for a moment. And then, he’s leading the tip to your pussy, moving it up and down until your gaze is begging for him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks softly, pressing merely an inch of his cock into you. “Are you okay?”

He’s not asking genuinely – at least not yet. His tone is sarcastic, testing your reactions, because he knows exactly what he does to you.

“Mhm, ‘m fine. Just want you really… fucking bad.”

“Yeah… yeah,” he only says before he’s slowly pushing his shaft inside.

He’s barely halfway in when you’re already losing your mind at how full he makes you feel; how good he makes you feel. But his goofy ass still manages to say something that snaps you out of your trance.

“This is like… taking off a purity ring. Isn’t it? Is that weird?”

You can’t help but chuckle between your moans, not sure if to focus on the dick penetrating your wet walls or on his idiocy. “Yeah. It’s weird, because– you’re anything but pure.”

“Kind of a pity that you’re on the pill,” he continues, still seemingly clowning you. “Our babies would be so pretty.”

“...What?”

His face falls into your neck, giggling against you breathlessly. “I’m just kidding.”

“And here I was thinking…”

What he’s doing is utter torture. You know he’s being careful as he always is, but your patience runs thin, tormented by your thirst for him. Him filling you up real slow, observing your reactions – it’s a move that’s supposed to irritate you.

Because he loves it when you weaken for him.

“What, you don’t want kids with me?” He teases, his intention to tease clear – but somehow, the image is still appealing.

Yet, you admit, “Not now, I–”

“I’m honestly just kidding… We have all the time in the world now, Pumpkin.” You raise your legs higher, wrapping around him and pulling him in. He groans again, losing his calmness, too. “Alright, for now… Let me just fuck you.”

His entire cock is barely in before he pulls it out again to its tip – and then shoves it back in smoothly. You exclaim his name, instantly pressing the back of your hand against your mouth. Not able to calm your racing heart when he repeats the action.

Twice, thrice more – and then, another obstacle occurs.

From outside your room, your sister’s voice increases in volume, and as you did before, the two of you freeze in place again. The door is locked anyway, if you can believe Jungkook at least – but your sister doesn’t even try opening it.

Jungkook knows as much as you that she won’t come in – but he’s incredibly more relaxed than you are, looking back at you with evil amusement in his eyes. He bites his lips and then grins at you mischievously, and you shake your head in warning before you even know what his banter-loving mind is up to.

“We’ll go now, but we’ll be back in about an hour. You two better behave,” your sister commands, making the blood in your face boil hot.

You control your breathing as far as you can, and say, “As we always do. We’ll be wa–”

And that’s where the devil strikes.

Swallowing your lewd moan, you find hold on his bicep when he lifts his hip – and suddenly slams back into you, balls deep this time, bottoming out. You clear your throat and feign a cough, your shaky voice announcing, “We’ll be watching a movie. Have fun!”

“And turn down the volume. Jesus Christ,” she complains, but luckily you don’t have to answer – because her steps become distant soon, and Jungkook’s circling hips keep your mind occupied enough to lose the ability to speak.

As if talking to her through the wall didn’t take everything in you. Now he’s out to destroy you entirely.

Staring at the mixture of irritation and pleasure in your expressions, Jungkook laughs, repeatedly kissing your cheeks until you can hear the main door fall shut.

“You’re such an asshole, fuck you!” You finally scold, lightly hitting his muscular chest. He opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt. “And don’t say you’d rather fuck me or whatever.”

“Dammit.”

Eyebrows kissing, you pull him close energetically, arms firm around him and fingers in his hair as you reveal, “I hate you for real.”

“What else is new, right?”

His body resumes its movements, though gentler now. Lips and tongue alternate at the mound of your breasts, and he moans with you as you become louder, broken sounds falling out of you with each of his deep thrusts.

Progressively, he picks up on pace, eliminating every coherent word you could mumble if you weren’t already so dizzy. The knot in your stomach tightens fast, threatening to burst, and when you look at his open mouth and focused, thick eyebrows, you think he feels the same.

A powerful hand grabs your thigh and parts your legs wider, pushing back as much as your limbs allow. The constant rub of his thick cock against your velvet walls feels entirely new with your new confessions in mind – you think he’s moving differently, even looking at you differently.

And how could he not? Hidden away for so long, the emotions are finally breaking out of his chest – it should surprise you less that he’s looking at you like he’s found the gates to heaven.

He lifts his upper body just a little, enraptured by the way you’re trying to pull him back, chasing his lips. His hands are balled into fists on each side of your body, and he clenches his jaw again as he hammers into you.

“You feel so good,” he lets you know, eyes rolling back. “So good… And you’re so goddamn wet for me.”

You groan and whimper, constantly moaning for him, loud enough to disturb your neighbors if your windows were open. Your lungs and lips are drying out, and you take a deep breath, swallowing hard.

You try, “I’m just…”

“What?”

“If– if a girl’s adored by Jeon Jungkook,” you say, but you’re not sure he understands between your feral sounds, “she has no choice but t–to be dripping like this.”

He dives in to pull at your nipple again, kissing your tits as if in a hurry, and then says, “You flatter me.”

“I– am serious. You’re so hot. So fucking hot.”

“Yeah? Am I really?”

“Yeah you… just. Stop please.”

The amount of haze clouding your mind is dense as fuck. In all honesty, you might not even remember your senseless words anymore after all this is over. Jungkook knows you’re going crazy as much as he is – but he still prods.

“Stop what, baby?”

“Stop asking questions, Jungkook, just–”

Just fuck me, your eyes say, and he obliges.

Fucking you harder, deeper, pounding you into the bed, right under your Gravity Falls blanket. He leans in to make out with you vigorously, only slowing down his jolts when his stamina dwindles.

But he’s still balls deep inside you, keeps coming back like that. You graze his ass, his back, his shoulder blades. Bite your lips and withhold your sounds as a result – which, yet again, he’s not very fond of.

Pressing half his weight against you, his hands opt for your wrists, pushing them up until they’re pinned against the bed. Fingers of just one hand hold your wrists firmly, and he kisses your neck before he speaks.

“You’ve been louder before… Why hold back now, sweetheart?” He picks at your lower lip, his body all over you. “Also just told you I’m so in fucking love with you, and you expect me not to see you cum?”

“Watch closely then…” Your voice breaks, whining every time his pelvis rubs against your clit. “Because I’m… really fucking close.”

“Good.”

And then it hits, and it hits hard. 

The pleasure that inundates you strikes with the strength of ocean waves, another sensation Jungkook introduced you to that you've never experienced before. Other men aren't shit compared to yours.

Yours.

Your legs and toes go numb when he delivers the last stroke; you're saying something, perhaps yelling a few affirmations and adjectives. At least that's what's going through your head.

Lots of so good and holy fucking shit and wow.

It must be something good, because the next moment, he tells you how ridiculously hot you are – and follows you shortly. His voice sounds different, a lot deeper, a lot worse than during his hardest home workout sessions.

You close your eyes, feeling every thick rope of cum cover your insides. You listen to his filthy sounds that he lets out against your shoulder, basking in them.

When Jungkook cums, he's as vocal about it as he pleases. No embarrassment, no urge to hold his moans and growls back. Rather a mess that explodes in the best way possible, holding you tight and whispering more sins into your ears as he empties out.

And when he's done, he collapses on top of you, breathing hard.

“That was…” He says, laughing. “Kind of new.”

Crazily enough, it was. Even though you've done dirtier things together, the flood of emotions certainly twisted things positively today.

“Kind of good, too?” You joke.

“So fucking good.” Tender smile flashing, he wipes the hair off your forehead, his thumb on your lips. He throws a look at the TV, raising an eyebrow. “Post-credit scene.”

“You got lucky this time.”

Your precious, little snicker puts him back in time. Maybe it's the sentimentality of this town, or maybe you're part of every memory in his life either way.

But he swears he'd sell his soul just to remain in this very moment.

“Hey,” he whispers, still on top of you. Still inside you.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you for letting me be yours.”

Yours. Yours, yours, yours.

He actually, really, truly is now, right?

“Why are you thanking me for that, silly?”

“You're… my best friend,” he explains, thumb still on your face. “Even without all of this, you mean more to me than you might ever know.”

He's quiet and careful. Like he's still scared he might wake up from a blissful dream. “I just wanted you to forgive me, but you let me be yours and that's a level of forgiveness I'll never be able to repay.”

“No…” You say, shaking your head. “You don't need to repay me. I mean, every couple fights, right? We'll fight, too. Just. No more huge, painful mistakes.”

“I promise. Gonna do anything and everything for you, okay?” You're not used to corny confessions and vows, so when you laugh a little, his face turns red. “I'm serious! I'll get you the moon if you want.”

“Get me to the moon, and then we'll talk.”

“Yeah? Wanna come with me? Then pack your bags,” he jokes, drawing close to peck random spots on your face. “'Cause it's a one week trip.”

“Really?”

“Didn't you know it takes three days to get there and then three days back?”

“How would I know, you geek?”

It's hard to get him off of you when he can't keep his hands off you like that, holding you caged in, kissing your neck until it tickles. You truly do feel like a teenager in love – you know if any of your friends heard your conversations, they'd gag.

And then they'd start organizing your wedding.

Once you've calmed down, you resume to silent stares, so incredibly and achingly in love when you say, "I love you, Jeon Jungkook."

“Likewise… my girlfriend.”

He blushes at the word, delighted beyond measure; his eyes sparkle like that of an excited child on Christmas. There's no light reflecting in them, but they still shine.

“Shower,” he says when the movie's over. “We still have a lot of time.”

“Mhm. I'd suggest round two, but you fucked me like it's the last time you'll ever touch me.”

“Get used to it,” he tells you as he lifts his body with a groan, finally pulling out of you. Feels strange without him so close to you. “I think I'll be doing that a lot.”

“Damn…”

As he stands tall next to your bed, Greek Gods' beauty fails next to him. Golden and sweaty, tattoos on his flexing muscles making you wanna pull him back into you.

And as you admire every patch of his beautiful, flawless skin, the clown says, “You gotta live with that dick forever now.”

“I… I’m absolutely, totally, incredibly appalled by this idea, like–”

“Shut up, ma'am,” he warns with a joyful laugh, dragging you to your feet and into the shower with more endless laughter.

–

The first snow falls earlier this year than usual.

End of November, the city is already covered in it. Hot chocolate and blankets become your new best friends, and with final exams still far away, you luckily get the chance to enjoy winter’s wonders.

With Jungkook.

Happy and stupidly in love. Rose tinted glasses bright. 

“You actually framed that one, huh?” Taehyung asks on a Friday night, walking through your living room as he inspects your decoration.

The picture in question contains your entire family and Jungkook two days after the, as you named it, Glorious Marvel Night. GMN preceded your mother’s birthday, and with you bringing a date to the event, the night soon became unforgettable.

Flooded back memories of when Jungkook would visit and spend your birthday with you. Or bring a small present for your parents on their wedding day. He’s always been thoughtful and sweet, so no wonders your mother allowed you to bring him to her little gathering.

Even though Taehyung’s first reaction was something close to, “One should not bring girlfriends and boyfriends to family parties unless married.”

What does he know anyways?

“It’s a cute one. I like seeing it every day,” you tell him as he takes a seat next to his younger friend.

Jungkook, sitting on the couch cross legged between Taehyung and you, glances at the clock, already hungry. “When’s Jin coming? He said he’d be there in ten minutes more than half an hour ago.”

“You know him and punctuality,” Tae says, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s just missing a cozy home’s warmth.” You laugh quietly, but he defends, “I’m serious, you guys are so smart for this! Nothing better than a pleasant dinner and game night at home.”

“Glad you’re feeling at home, Tae.”

The moment his boxy smile emerges, someone knocks at your door firmly. You jump to your feet to let Jin in, and he greets you with an enthusiastic Heeeey and a tight hug before he frowns.

Pulling his turtleneck over his chin dramatically, he enters the living room, and you can’t help but laugh at his pout as he says, “Why’s it literally not better in here than outside?”

“Huh?” Jungkook voices.

“It’s freezing cold. Don’t you guys have a heater or something?”

“We’ve blankets,” your boyfriend says, raising the object in question and patting his thigh playfully. “Come and warm up.”

Jin scrunches his nose, ignoring Jungkook’s invitation and dropping onto the seat in front of you instead. “No, but seriously. It’s pretty cold, you guys gotta think about turning on the heater.”

“Have you seen utility bills these days?” You ask, leaning forward with raised eyebrows. “Do you want me to show you ours? It’s getting worse.”

You lift your body a little, eliciting chuckles around you, and Jin gestures for you to sit back down as Tae confirms, “It’s true, though. I cried seeing my bills, too.” You hum affirmatively, wanting to add to the discussion, but– “By the way, Jin.”

The older man looks at him in anticipation, Jungkook and you next to Taehyung expecting nothing, yet blown away when he opens his shameless mouth. “Did you know bills are the reason why those two lovebirds became a thing at all?”

You rip your eyes open. Jungkook’s elbow hits his friend hard, but he only giggles like a child, not letting the warning glares around him intimidate him. “Yeah, Jungkook told me very proudly that they were trying to save money by showe–”

“Okay, anyways!” Jungkook interrupts, breaking out in a mingling of voices. Loud conversations make you laugh, even though your body burns from embarrassment at Taehyung’s stupidity. “How about dinner? Homemade! Am hungry–”

The fight those two carry out must be the least serious one you’ve ever seen. They pinch each other’s nipples and laugh their asses off – not much of a help when you set the table. They only calm down once they’ve stuffed their mouths with hot dinner bites, and that’s when you get the opportunity to finally speak up.

“You know,” you tell Jin. “Bills might not be such a problem for us anymore soon.”

“How’s that? You found a way to persuade your landlord?” He asks.

“Not quite, but almost,” you say, looking at Jungkook. “We’re moving. To an apartment downstairs.”

Taehyung and Jin pause for a moment, processing the information with confusion in their eyes. Then, Jin asks, “What does that do?”

“Yeah, is anything different there?” Taehyung adds.

“Well, everything there is cheaper because it’s smaller,“ Jungkook explains, already smiling in excitement and pride. “We just need one bedroom now, right?”

A lightbulb switches on in the boys’ heads.

A low and intrigued Ohhhh echoes through your room, both your guests looking at each other with suggestive ambiguity in their eyes. Their gazes shoot between Jungkook and you, impressed by how serious you already seem with each other – and suddenly, Jin claps.

“Bravo,” he exclaims. Half of dinner has already passed. Maybe he’s already drunk on half the wine he inhaled. “Don’t know how this man made you stay for good, but bravo.”

“Honestly, if he can be such an idiot and still get the girl, none of us are entirely hopeless, right?” Taehyung jokes, still fully in fight mode.

And he feels Jungkook’s still lingering wrath when he reaches out to Taehyung across the table, smacking his friend’s hand with the back of his spoon.

“Hey, asshole,” Taehyung exclaims.

“You started.”

“Don’t tell me secrets anymore then.”

“You know what, maybe I–”

“Jin, you’re on my side, aren’t you?”

You think you could get used to this. The soft gatherings in the middle of winter. Good meals, cozy nights, frisky conversations.

And Jungkook and you losing yourselves amidst the laughter. Averting your gazes from your friends and raising them to each other once everyone else indulges in their own banter. Staring into his eyes, locking his fingers with his under the table.

Mouthing a tender, “What’s up?”

Preparing yourself for eternity; trials and tribulations over for now.

Life is good, your heartbeat steady. Emotions that stayed hidden for too long can flow freely now – pain subsided, fears gradually faded.

No more blackouts – just light through and through.

–

pt1 || pt2 || pt3 masterlist

–

author’s note: hey!! this is not the last we’re seeing of them – speaking of, if you guys ever have a smol idea you’d like to see in future drabbles, hit me!!🥺 thank you so much for being so lovely all this time. it meant so much to me, truly!!!<3 do let me know what you think!!

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