Keroppitae - Tumblr Blog

this is so cute stop i want a boyfriend so bad 😭😭

finding your boyfriend sleeping in your hyperfeminine pink room ! <3

ෆ˙ ᵕ ˙ෆ

pairing : jungkook x sanrio girl!reader

genre : fluff

warning : nothin just pure fluff 🥰🥰 , oc babies him , reader calls him princess , he calls her nicknames (baby/princess) , he sleeps on her tits

unedited.

exhausted, tired, that's what you were.

you just finished tutoring 2 little kids. one of them was an absolute angel sent from heaven to make your shift easier, but the other, oh god, that little she-devil. don't get me wrong, you still liked the other kid, but she can really become a handful at times. doesn't matter, at the end of the day you get paid and at least one of them learns something. right?

right now, all you could think of was about your boyfriend who should be at your home right now. your parents aren't home tonight, so you figured why not invite your boyfriend in and have the whole house for you and him.

cute, right?

speaking of cute, you clip your hair back up into a messy bun using your newly bought my melody hair clip. jungkook, your boyfriend, always liked the way your overgrown bangs fell down to frame your face. and he also made sure to buy you all of the cute little hair clips he saw, because he knew you liked cute stuff. hair clips, plushies, figurines, clothes, make up — you name it.

jungkook always called it childish, though. you found it funny. and cute. cause he always got you anything you liked, despite his thoughts on it. hehe.

you make your way through your living room silently, eyes scanning around trying to spot jungkook.

what would he be doing right now? it's 3.03pm, the clock read.

"gguk?" you murmur while nibbling on your lower lip — a habit of yours.

shrugging your shoulders, you hum a small melody to yourself while making your way to your room.

the first thing you notice the moment you open the door to your room was the fact that the A/C was on. that could mean only one thing.

your eyes shift to your bed to find your boyfriend practically suffocated and wrapped up with all your blankets around him.

your heart just—melted.

the sight of your big, buff, muscular boyfriend on your bed, wrapped up with your pink blanket with flowers all over them, curled up in a ball hugging your cinnamonroll pillow. (look at the header.) made your heart squeeze multiple times.

the sheets were covering him from his chin to downwards. so all that was visible was his head and the outline of his arms and legs—oh, aWWW! his toes were also peaking out due to the blanket being not big enough to cover his entire body.

if you listened carefully, you could hear his soft light snores escaping. you scrunch your nose up, letting out a small giggle.

he is so cute!

you quickly pull your phone out to take a few pictures of your boyfriend. you're so gonna tease him about this later.

you walk to your bed, sliding your slippers off slowly get on the bed. you measure each of your movements, not wanting to wake up the sleeping beauty on your bed.

coming to think of it, you were quite sleepy yourself.

laying next to your boyfriend, you grab one of your kuromi blankets and throw it over yourself. grabbing one of your plushys that were placed around the bed, you hug it close before throwing your arm over your boyfriend's figure.

snuggling your face into the junction of his neck and shoulder, you gently kiss it, then close your eyes.

｡ₓ ू ₒ ु ˚ ू ₒ ु ₓ｡

you squeeze your eyes, slowly opening them after. you had woken up after your lil nap. squinting your eyes, you look around— oh yeah! hehe. your boyfriend! he was still sleeping like a baby, making you snort a little.

suddenly, jungkook shifts positions and turns around to your side. he was still sleeping, but his eyes were slowly fluttering, adjusting to the light after a long nap.

jungkook opens his eyes, nose scrunching as he licked his dry lips.

"baby?" his voice sounded so crispy.

"slept well?" you tease.

"oh." jungkook groans, rubbing his eyes. he takes off my flower printed blanket off of him as he sits up on the bed. he doesn't let go of my cinnamonroll pillow though, hugging it closer to his stomach.

"stop it." jungkook rolls rolls his eyes.

"no, you were cute!" you giggle.

"yeah, yeah, whatever" he murmurs, looking away from you.

"mhmmmm..." you hum with a sarcastic tone.

"have you, uh, always had that poster? is it a new one?" jungkook asks. he scratches the back of his neck. clearly he's trying to change the topic. cute.

"mmm, no, i've always had it."

"ah, really? never noticed."

the air was awkward for a few seconds, then you break the silence with a giggle. stop he's so cute.

you sit up on the bed and scoot closer to jungkook, throwing your thigh over his to balance your body over him. he is still looking away, the little annoyed expression on his face making your heart squeeze over and over (in a good way!).

kissing his cheek once, twice, thrice ;

"awww, ggukie. i love you so much!" you coo.

jungkook groans, his hand flying to your face to push it back, but you see the small smile creeping up his face.

you laugh, pointing at his face.

"see!"

"shut uuuupp! i had no choice but to sleep in your little princess bed, okay?" you watch him lazily rub his face.

"it's okay. you're my princess after all." you smile.

jungkook lifts his eyebrow at you, the corner of his lip curling upto a smirk.

"yeah? what are you, then?"

"me? uhhh, could be your princess. we can be princesses together, kook."

you probably sound so stupid right now. doesn't matter, it's jungkook whom you're talking with.

jungkook leans forward to grab your wrists to pull you towards his chest. his palms sneak under your skirt to settle on your ass cheeks, pushing your whole body up. strong.

"gimme a kiss, princess."

happily, you cup his cheeks press a big fat kiss on his lips. you pull away just to kiss him again, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss. jungkook's palms rub your flesh, squeezing it.

he leans to give another small peck to your lips once you pull away.

"bubblegum lipbalm?"

"mmhm! bought it, uhhh, last week? i think."

jungkook hums, nodding his head.

"lay on the bed, 'm sleepy" he signals.

you squint your eyes, confused.

"but you just woke up? why're you sleepy again?"

"just am— ah, top off."

ohhhh.

you proceed to take off your top but leave your bra, then laying on the bed. jungkook smiles wide, settling himself in between your legs and his head on your right breast.

you giggle, loving this moment. you pull up the cute flower blanket of yours over the both of you to cover you both up. jungkook clutches onto your cinnamonroll pillow again, hugging it with his arm as he drifted to sleep.

"best sleep i'm ever gonna have..." he mumbles.

cute.

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

(photo from pinterest)

okay so a ceasefire will happen soon, inshallah, but i just know the second it does, most of y'all will pack it up and go home. the world has proven time and time again that the second the violence "stops", then everyone forgets about us and then we just go back to suffering under the israeli occupation. you guys need to promise us, promise every single palestinian child in the world right now, that you will not stop fighting. that you will continue boycotting, you will continue protesting, you will continue disrupting the world until palestine is free. and then we'll do it again. and again and again and again and again. for sudan, for the congo, for everyone who is suffering right now.

you guys cant keep leaving us and forgetting about us once you've done "your part". it always happens, and we always go back to suffering. you need to stand with us until palestine is completely free. until we have our land back, until we can rebuild our homes, until we can drink clean water and breathe clean air, until our children grow up never having to face a horror like the nakba ever again. you need to stay fighting until we are all free forever.

I will never forgive the bots who send me fake messages.

I see that [1] next to my messages and I am like "FRIEND??? MESSAGE FOR ME???" and then I see a bot. There is no greater betrayal. Stabbing me in the back would hurt less and also be less lethal. 10 000 agonies upon me. Unbelievable.

tae really crashed the suchwita recording to eat

his big doleful eyes and violently self-destructive tendencies have captivated me

pls unfollow me and do not read my stories if you do not support palestine. i am full palestinian woman who’s first hand experienced the t3rrorism of isr*el and has had multiple near death situations w idf. with all the zionism in this world and propaganda being used to kill my ppl, im so fucking fed up srsly. i dont care how much u like my stories none of your support for me will every make me overlook your support of ethnic cleansing, g3nocide, and isr*al’s illegal occupation. so please, do not even think ab reading or supporting anything i do bc i dont respect you one bit. my people and innocent lives come before fics and this fandom. thank you.

‘GOLDEN’ jacket shoot sketch ♡

meg bby it pains me that u think ur writing sucks. bc this right here??? it’s literally so beautiful and sad and amazing and kdsjhshdhd. i loved it so much <3 my heart rlly breaks for jungkook bc it’s so obvious he’s in love :( and yn just kinda takes that and doesn’t give anything back. how cruel. if someone like jungkook loved me this much i wouldn’t know what else to do except love him back 😭😭 ur writing is amazing bb don’t doubt urself 🩷🩷🩷

places i know — jjk

i know places - lykke li, les matins - angèle

ᥫ᭡ summary: in which jungkook's heart beats for you, but he prefers to dismiss his feelings and to blame himself for getting hurt.

ᥫ᭡ genre: friends with benefits, university au, angst, smut.

ᥫ᭡ word count: 3.7k

ᥫ᭡ warnings: alcohol consumption, long and messy hair jk 🫶🏻, he's introverted & she's extroverted, opposites attract type of shit, unreciprocated love, unprotected sex, unprotected oral sex, praising, blowjob, clit stimulation.

a.n.: yeah so... i came up with this last minute. begging for feedback again 🙏🏻 because your girl is paranoid and thinks everything she writes is shit 🥹 (to be confirmed or denied, idk) i won't update for a while, pls take care of yourselves, guys. kisses x

The way between his last course of the day — his class situated in block E, literally the farthest part of the university, still not renovated since the creation of the school — and his car is familiar, repetitive.

It doesn't bother Jungkook, though. Not all that much, at least. It's part of his daily life and he prefers things to be consistent, always predictable. He likes having a routine, something he can rely on — something secured, a feeling of certainty.

And the way to his car is all that. Expect for one detail in his life that is almost too unpredictable, even more than the rain. He simply can't tell when it's about to happen because if he were to predict it, he'd have to let down all his little habits.

He'd have to set the notifications of his phone on, remove 'night time' mode in case he ever receives an unexpected text from an unpredictable person. Have to ask questions more often, questions that are direct and that the answers don't leave him overthinking all night, turning sides back and forth in his bed.

Have to stop putting on his headphones while exiting the university building to hear your steps on the wet cement, rushing to him from behind, already grinning to yourself, knowing he doesn't suspect your presence.

A few repeated taps on his back makes him tense his shoulders, and makes him turn his head back to see who's after him. You may be sudden, but he always knows it's you. You're the only person in his life that would message him at 3 a.m., proposing to meet up and then canceling at the last minute to only interpellate him on his way back home.

He's a bit sour about this, but he won't tell you.

It's your silly escapades that fill most of his days and nights, though. It's that little giggle that leaves your lips before saying 'let's go to the movie theatre' without knowing what films are playing, just because it's funnier like that, because it's unexpected. It creates unforgettable memories, develops stronger feelings.

He reaches for his phone in the pocket of his hoodie, pressing pause, slipping his headphones off and letting them hang around his neck. There's a smile on your lips, one he remembers kissing more than once, both drunk and sober. Most of the time drunk.

"You're ready?" A toothy smile, one of the best, the only one he always wants to see, always misses.

Again, nothing has been prepared, but being unplanned is your habit. Maybe a fear of being chained to a routine, something Jungkook is attached too, though it doesn't matter.

There's something about you, about your wild nature that has him obsessed over you. Opposites attract, but he doesn't feel like your opposite, he feels like he's complementary to you. Like a puzzle piece. Like partners.

He continues his way to his car as you follow him to it, stepping backwards to keep facing you, sometimes turning around, feeling the wind passing through your hair.

Jungkook looks ahead, only glancing at you when he feels your insistent gaze on him. He can't ignore you. Not because you take a lot of space, but because he wants to answer you, wants to hear what you have to say and he knows he's going to regret later for not questioning you.

"I didn't know when you were coming," he opts for, choosing something lighter than what he has on his heart, a feeling he's not sure he wants to acknowledge himself; when are you going to stop playing with me?

"Tuh-tuh-tuh." You stop in front of him, forcing him to halt his walk as well. "Don't ask me when," you say, raising your eyebrows and tilting your head to the side. "Ask me why, ask me where."

Jungkook chuckles, the proud lopsided smile on your face amusing him. How easy it is for you to deviate from the conversation, avoid something you don't want to give an answer to. Something you don't want to touch on. Almost too easy-peasy.

He doesn't catch onto it yet again, leaving the lead to you, letting you use your impeccable charm on him.

"Where?" He sighs.

"That's the best part!" You cheer, "Okay, you know that place I talked to you about?"

"Yeah," he confirms, a bit unsure, but memories and words of yours are fast at coming back into his mind. "Your secret spot?"

He cuts his question there because what you said isn't something he really wants to say out loud — wanna show you that place, feels majestic, you'll like it. Wanna kiss you under that big, big tree, sit on your lap, cuddle you, ride your cock.

It was cheeky when you said it, but he was giggling along with you, sparkling eyes looking into each other, vodka rolling on your tongues.

You were beautiful that night in your blue dress, fitting well with the colour of your hair and skin, making your eyes pop out more. And so are you now, wearing a cute top with that long skirt, Doc Martens at your feet.

That night, you were sexy. A wet dream, an erotic fantasy. Today, you're cute and casual, looking like the girlfriend he wished he had.

"Yup," you nod your head, "My secret spot," you repeat, smiling softly.

He doesn't respond with anything so it's silent for a short moment, the breeze making your hair twirl around your head. He tells himself, right now, that the world is yours. It's as if you were controlling everything; the wind, the weather, his heart.

"Come on, Kook," you insist, "I'm gonna tell you where to go."

The moon is shining brightly from where he is. Away from the city, from all the flashing lights and the roaring of cars. It's peacefully quiet. He likes it.

You're also on your back, looking at the night sky and the clouds. Pointing at one star, saying it's someone's puppy. You hope it's resting in peace, he tells you of course, don't worry. You smile, again. He loves it.

You pick out a flower; it's purple, maybe rather violet. A really soft violet.

You turn on your side, leaning on your elbow, staring at Jungkook — a smirk tugging at your lips. You extend your arm to wipe some of his hair away from his face, tucking the stem of the flower behind his ear. He doesn't stop you and closes his eyes as your fingers brush over his skin.

You replace his bangs, Jungkook's eyelids fluttering as you do so and for the first time, very first time, he's the one who destabilizes you.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, looking at you, noticing how your eyes instantly glance up at him when the compliment slips past his lips. Maybe it's the way you slightly raise your eyebrows, no sight of a smile on your face, rather a look of surprise, a look of 'nobody's words make my stomach twist as much as yours do'.

For you, it's the way that you know he means it, really thought about it before, told himself hundreds of times in his head. Fuck, this girl's beauty is unbelievable.

The grass underneath you is starting to feel cold. The sun is gone and you cruelly miss its light on your skin, heating you up as well as Jungkook's arms around you do, too.

"You, too," you say back. No 'thank you', but he'll go with that. He guesses it felt too intimate and he understands that. Well, he tries to, at least.

He brings a hand up to the back of your neck, the tip of his fingers feel cold against your skin, a shiver running up your spine and making the hair on your arms stand up. He pulls you down and presses his lips down on yours.

It's not hot, it's not messy or sloppy. It's warm, passionate and coordinated. God, he's so cheesy.

He's fucking in love.

You break the kiss, grinning when he looks at you with wide, sparkling eyes. You lift up the right sleeve of his hoodie over his forearm, revealing the couple of tattoos decorating his skin, a bit dispersed and distanced from each other. Jungkook's told you about his desire of filling up his sleeve and colouring some of his tattoos as well.

You point to an empty spot, raising your gaze up to him while saying, "I see a lily there. A tiger lily."

He looks down to his arm, then up to you. "Do you?" He questions.

"Yes," you bob your head, whispering softly. "Bright and orange," you add on, tracing the form of the flower on his arm. He watches your finger brush his skin delicately with a lot of care. "With the petals open."

"It'd be really pretty," he approves, his words making you smile.

You then take his hand in yours and bring his arm up, passing it around your shoulders. He says nothing when you lay your face down on his chest. He only tilts his head downward, smiling back at you.

Your breathing is calm and regular, sometimes letting out a heavier exhale. You trust him, he realizes, and it makes his heart swell, hurts him a little because this isn't enough of a reason.

Enough of a reason to acknowledge his feelings — acknowledge how fucking boring his life is without you and how he wants to spend each moment with you.

But he can't ask that from you, can't demand you to reciprocate his feelings. So he only hopes and wishes, hurting when he's not around you. Goes back to his routine that he so wants to give up on just to be with you, a wild soul who dreams of liberty.

"You didn't tell me why."

You giggle, not because you find it funny, but because you're happy he remembered and cares enough to ask you. Of course he cares, it's you.

"Why I brought you here?" You say while rising up from his chest, connecting your eyes to his.

"Yeah," he confirms with a short nod of his head.

"You're the only one I told about," you answer, "And I don't think there's anybody else I want to share this moment with," you tell him in a soft tone, one that you solely use to say the truth. "I just knew you'd like this place as much as I do, and I want you to come here whenever you feel like it. It's our spot."

'What's mine is yours'.

It can be platonic, it can be friendly, but fuck, there's nothing platonic in the way that you look at him with stars in your eyes, wanting to give him to the world just because it'd feel like the right thing.

You seem so serene while telling him this, and Jungkook can't ignore the 'what if's' that are forming in his head. What if we come here daily until the snow comes and covers the grass? What if we carve our initials on that tree?

What if this secret means more to him than it means to you?

And then it hurts again.

He loves you.

Loves you in a way nobody else ever will because what he has, what he feels, is unique. Everybody's feelings are different, that's why you'll never find someone like Jungkook, that's why if you want him, you need to claim him.

But you probably never will. It's not your kind, not something you're willing to do. 'Don't want to sacrifice what we have', you once said. 'Girlfriend, boyfriend — what does it mean?' you responded when Jungkook jokingly called you "the perfect girlfriend" with too much alcohol in his blood.

Fucking ruined the mood. Why so fucking mean... when he knows you, knows the best parts of you that are down to earth, lovely and sweet, so many qualities in one single person.

But you're entitled to your stupid values.

And he continues to love you as he asks where to go now and you answer all too pouty that you want to go home, his home.

You insist on having vodka, knowing where he hides it, the top cabinet where you can't reach. Have to beg him with puppy eyes to let you have a glass. A tiny glass.

He tells you that you sure as hell gonna have a tiny one. You smile, thanking him. He drinks with you because there's no way he's letting you break his heart absolutely sober.

He loves you maybe more — well aware that he's going to regret it — when your sloppy tongues meet in a heated kiss, impatient hands slipping under each other's clothes.

He grabs a tit, earning a moan, you take a fist full of hair, eliciting a groan. The way to his bedroom feels far, far away, but he knows you're going to reach it, you have to.

Your body is one of the few things Jungkook's familiar with. He knows the way to your pussy, knows where to hit and touch. Knows also the way to your heart, just there in your rib cage, under your sternum.

He fucking knows, but you won't let him and so he keeps his hands away from that part of your body.

The sheets are just an excuse for being his for the night.

Just for the night, leaving before the sun rises.

Whatever.

He moans as he lets you engulf his cock in your mouth, flat on your stomach between his thighs, one leg bent at the knee. He knows to be patient, not push you to do something you don't want to, but it's hard, really hard when your mouth feels like literal heaven.

His head keeps rolling back on his shoulders, hitting the headboard behind him, raising it back up to watch your lips slide smoothly over his length. His fists clench on either side of his body, mouth ajar to let out heavy breaths that you can hear from where you are.

There are times he doesn't really hold himself back, times where the bed isn't just an excuse anymore, but tonight, he feels a bit restricted. He doesn't quite know why, even though the answer's right in front of him. But Jungkook prefers hiding his head in the sand.

"Ah, fuck," he says breathlessly already, frowning as he concentrates on the feeling of your tongue on his cock, sucking him like you fucking mean it. "Baby..."

Another moan, elongated and whiney, a clear indication that you have an impact on him. You affect him — oh, you do so much.

Hesitantly, he grips your hair, not too tight, not pulling, just clenching his fist around it. It's enough to show you that he isn't indifferent to your touch. You know that, but you tend to forget it, tend to go see someone different, searching for something you'll never find in anyone else than Jungkook.

He whimpers as your nose touches his pubic hair, the tip of his cock reaching the back of your throat. He fucking shakes, fucking whines while you swallow around him, sucking the soul out of him.

You're greedy; you take everything, you don't share. Ask for more, come back over and over again. But you take, you don't give. Don't even pay back.

Do you realize it? Would be debatable. Jungkook's heart isn't strong enough to have that conversation, though.

You moan around his cock, a response to his little whines, happy you can procure him this kind of pleasure. You bob your head over his length, making a mess, saliva spilling at the corners of your mouth.

You cup his balls and Jungkook reacts instantly. "Oh, yeah- yeah, like that," he approves, hooded eyes staring at the way his member appears and disappears between your lips as you bounce your head up and down.

If he doesn't stop you, he'll cum very soon, and that's not something that he wants. Not in your mouth, not anywhere. He knows the moment he cums is the moment you also leave.

So there's some tenderness in his voice when he instructs you to come lay beside him, your back to his chest. He thinks this is his favourite position, at least with you. Fucking you is the only way he can get that close to you. He can forget about cuddles, but you'll let him fuck you in spoon because sure, it's a great position. Warm and sensual.

"You feel so good- oh, god," he shakily says under his breath, his lips beside your ear. He's completely nestled inside you, his soft breath caressing your neck — a kiss is given to your shoulder, another to your jaw.

When he starts to move, it's slow and steady, but his moans tells you how it takes a lot out of him to not move faster, not ruin your pussy, not fuck you totally dumb on his bed the way he always does so good when he has way too much alcohol in his system.

He lifts up your thigh, making a bit more space for him, his other hand sneaking between your legs to reach your throbbing clit. His dark bangs fall into his eyes, some strands sticking to his sweaty forehead.

You whine when his middle finger finds your bud of nerves, drawing atrociously slow circles on it, adding just the right pressure to make you want more, beg for more.

"Do you feel me, baby? Feel my cock in your tight little pussy?" He hums in your ear, turning you crazy from the husky tone of his voice. You flutter your eyes as you turn your head, glancing at Jungkook's face, his own eyes not knowing where to look — your lonely lips, your perky nipples, his hard dick stretching out your hole.

"Yeah, feel you so deep in me, Kook," you reply back, and fuck do you really feel him.

It's like your first time, still feeling him days after your encounter. He's big, that's a fact, but he knows how to use it, and you got to experience it. You're lucky you're the only girl he wants to be inside of.

He groans when you clench and unclench around him, his cock completely covered in your wetness, sliding in you so smoothly, nothing restraining him at all — apart from his own intrusive thoughts.

He shifts his hand higher on your thigh, parting your legs wider from each other, now beginning to rock his hips against your ass. His head taps over your sweet spot repeatedly and you let him know by moaning out loud, babbling littles 'right here, Kook. Fuck, right here'.

You reach behind you to pass your fingers through Jungkook's soft black hair, his pink lips smooching the side of your throat, cherishing your skin in warm kisses. You place your other hand on top of his that is operating between your legs, doing quick circle motions over your puffy clit.

He drives his engorged cock in your wet pussy back and forth, totally out of breath, but refusing to stop, at least not until he has you spasming around his girth. You arch your back, frowning your brows as you feel the knot at the pit of your stomach tighten.

"Shit, you close, baby? I feel you sucking me in like crazy," he chuckles, a bit too lost in his own lust, loving how he feels so connected to you right now. You seriously can't be closer to each other than that.

You nod, and he says that he is, too. You whimper, almost feeling him in your guts, cock entering and exiting your quivering hole at a rapid pace that rips your breath out of your lungs.

"Gonna make you feel good," he promises. "Cum around me, sweetheart. Fucking cream my cock," Jungkook encourages and it doesn't take you much more to reach your high, thigh shaking in his hold.

And when it hits you, it hits you hard. You cry out his name, a sound he never wants to forget, limbs shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Your velvety walls close around him tightly just the way he loves it, just the way it makes him come closer to the edge as well.

His hips jerk up, his skin slapping against your ass. "Ah, fuck, yeah," he rasps out, wetting his dried lips, "Good job, shit... Gonna cum," he praises and warns you at the same time, your orgasm being the cause of his own.

Jungkook steadies his hips and he fills you up, emptying himself inside your cunt. He shoots his hot cum in you in long, thick ropes, cock twitching. You moan with him, liking the familiar sensation of his release painting your walls white.

"Christ," he chokes out, laying his damp forehead on your shoulders, his chest heaving up and down rapidly.

When he pulls out, you immediately turn around to face him. You don't say much, just the usual to not make it awkward. He appreciates it, won't admit he wants to chat till 3 a.m., though.

The next morning is somewhat gentle, but it has a bitter taste. Your side of the bed is empty, the only remaining trace of your body being your perfume. And the soiled sheets underneath him.

He would have liked that all of this was only a dream, but no, it was yesterday. His eyes are puffy from the night of sleep he had, or maybe from tears.

He wonders where you are, when exactly you left. He misses the touch of your hands on his back, your fingers passing through his hair.

Those are the kind of mornings he hates. The awful and aching truth eventually coming back to him because he forgot the night before when he was with you.

And then the cycle repeats.

He goes back to class, puts his headphones back on, and turns on night mode. Clears his mind off of you — well, he tries to. He goes back to the places he knows, avoiding you religiously until he can't say no anymore.

.

.

.

bad bitches have no plans for halloween and stay home and watch tv

AHHHH OMGGGG CLOVERSJJSSBSJS this is so good omfg 😮‍💨😮‍💨🤕🤕 jk is so fucking hot in this like i love me a brat tamer 😻😻 can’t wait for them to meet hehehe

still don’t know my name | jjk (m)

➥ banner by: @archivedkookie.

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ cybersex ⋆ enemies

➥ CATEGORY: mini three-shot

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, lotssss of sexting, cybersex, degradation kink, mentions of pornography, exchanging nude photos, nsfw twitter, masturbation (m & f), jungkook is a fucking JERK, reader is an annoying brat, bickering, neighbor beef, no like jk is rlly meannnndjdjdjd, reader is kinda dumb but thats not a warning for any time soon, awkward tension, lots of tension, gamer!jk, freelancer!jk, bam cameo <3, name calling (brat, dumb, stupid, etc.), mentions of roughhh sex (enjoyed by both parties), minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 8.3k

a/n: so happy pt. 1 is out !! 🤭🤭🤭 just building up the tension for this one … hehe 😋 hope u like it <333 feedback n reblogs are appreciated!

btw: unedited .. not my best work but i rlly wanted to get this idea out + jungkook is basically unnamed but it’s definitely abt him guys like don’t confuse anything he’s definitely the annoying neighbor but as it’s from reader’s perspective, you don’t know his name so he’s pretty much nameless

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ TEASER ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

@iIikebigbootybitches | 9:23PM

So what are you wearing lol

Ugh. You can’t roll your eyes hard enough at that. Do guys have no idea how to flirt with women anymore? What else would you be wearing than pyjamas if you told him you’re already in bed?

You | 9:25PM

pyjamas lol

@iIikebigbootybitches | 9:25PM

What kind

For fuck’s sake. Do men think women go to sleep in lingerie? Why did you even make that secret account if all men just bore you to death in your private messages?

You | 9:26PM

sweatpants and a tank top

@iIikebigbootybitches | 9:27PM

Isn’t it too hot for sweatpants? Haha

You | 9:30PM

i was kinda cold so i was hoping you’d get me hot and bothered but you’ve got me falling asleep tbh. goodnight aaron

@iIikebigbootybitches | 9:32PM

Damn lol. Harsh. This is why women don’t get asked out on dates anymore

Right… that’s the reason. Dumbass.

You waste no time blocking this goofball before turning over and closing your eyes, chasing the sleep you so desperately crave.

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“Dude, how the hell did you miss that?!”

The muffled voice coming from the wall to your right makes you want to scream into your pillow. With an annoyed grunt, you roll over and reach for your phone, squinting when your phone lights up and sting your eyes in the dark.

11:14PM.

A loud groan bubbles up the back of your throat as you slam your fist into the wall repeatedly, hoping your annoying neighbor gets the hint.

“I just saw you–” he pauses, “hold on a second.”

Not even 5 seconds pass before the banging is returned to your wall, as if you’re the one making all that damn noise.

He doesn’t just knock one or two times, he keeps banging like he’s got something to prove and he’s doing a great job at making your blood boil.

Then, he returns—to what you assume to be his computer—and continues talking at a volume that would allow the entire neighborhood to hear him play his stupid video games.

You angrily toss the sheets off your body when you’ve had enough, swinging your legs off the side of your bed. You angrily shove your feet into your fuzzy slippers before stomping your way to his front door, a Hello Kitty tank top draped over your torso and velvet shorts—yes, you lied to that freak—with the bedazzled word ‘JUICY’ spelled across your perky asscheeks.

You raise your hand and aggressively slam your fist down on the door, repeatedly and annoyingly like he did to your bedroom wall just a few seconds ago. It’s almost like his golden apartment number—504B—is mockingly staring at you. The urge to peel it off his door and toss it into your toilet is growing with each passing millisecond.

A loud groan reaches your ears from behind the door before keys jingling together resounds throughout the corridor.

The door swings open and there he is. Headphones around his neck, a scowl on his face, his tongue rolling against the inside of his cheek in annoyance as he slowly—and very arrogantly—drags his gaze down your body before meeting your furious eyes again.

This happens every fucking week.

Your eyes drape over his figure, committing it all to memory. His wavy black locks are pulled back in a small bun, strands—that are too short to fit into the elastic—frame his face just right and his torso is clad in a black tank top, tattoo sleeve on full display for you.

His grey sweatpants hang low on his hips, a silver chain decorates his neck, silver rings in his lip that glimmer under the hallway light of your shared corridor.

You cross your arms over your chest in defiance, proving to him that you don’t care about his scowl and he can look pissed all he wants. “Some people are trying to fucking sleep,” you snark at him.

He exaggeratedly rolls his eyes and it makes the nerves in your hands tingle with the need to smack the shit out of him. In response, he barks, “Who goes to sleep at 11PM on a fucking Friday?”

What a fucking asshole. If you could have the chance to kill one person in your life, it’d be him.

“I do. Now, stop playing your stupid games so damn loud. You sound like a fucking freak,” you huff, not waiting for a response as you start heading back to your apartment, which is literally—and unfortunately—right next to his.

“Yeah, don’t fucking count on it,” he calls out after you before loudly slamming his door shut.

Ugh, what a fucking prick! Can’t he just be considerate? You live in the same building, that means everyone living here should be considerate of others.

You’re aware that you’re the only one that has noise complaints about him, but it’s not your fault that your room is right next to his gaming setup!

You quickly snatch the pillow off your bed after you stormed back to your room with a complimentary door slam, just as loud as your annoying neighbor’s. Quiet insults about him spill out of your mouth as you throw your pillow on your couch and plop down, trying to go back to sleep in this boiling heat.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to fall asleep.

Your chest dramatically inflates as you take a deep breath before taking your phone into your hands, deciding to scroll through your social media apps for a little while. Until they put you to sleep, at least.

You open the Twitter app and switch from your personal account to your secret account.

Which is basically just an account filled with pornography.

Not pornography of you, just home-made amateur porn videos by others that you retweet onto your profile—if you like them.

You’ve gained over 4.000 followers in the past few months—which also inevitably summons a few annoying men in your private and requested messages but nothing you can’t handle.

With a loud sigh, you scroll down your timeline and see your favorite NSFW account tweeted a few hours ago.

You click on his account and decide to scroll through it because it’s been quite a while since you last checked.

‘Me and who?’

‘Need a brat to do this to’

‘This video is hot as fuck’

Those are just the few captions you see, all followed by amateur porn videos and a couple thousand likes on each post.

The video plays silently and the soft moans from the woman in the video reaches your ears. She sounds angelic. Your teeth slowly sink into your bottom lip as you watch the man in the video press her further into the mattress, slamming his hips down into her ass.

The tingle in your core doesn’t let up and you’ve lost track of time when you glance up at the time, realizing you’ve been scrolling through this account for the past 30 minutes.

Your panties uncomfortably stick to your sex, silently groaning as you turn onto your back and scroll back up to the first video, captioned ‘Me and who?’. You watch it again, eyes glued to how this girl gets absolutely ruined, legs pushed back in mating press, moans and cries escaping her.

If only you could be in her position right now.

Your fingers slowly inch towards the hem of your shorts and slip under the elastic before you sneak your fingers into your panties.

The slick that coats your fingers from barely grazing your slit is absurd; you’re disgustingly drenched. A soft sigh escapes you as you slowly begin to rub circles directly onto your clit, grunting and moaning softly to yourself as you continue to watch the video on your phone.

Fuck.

You can’t help but grind up into your own fingers, groaning at the lack of friction you really crave. Being fucked exactly like in this video.

The speed in which you chase your orgasm picks up, rubbing faster and faster. It doesn’t take long after for you to cum all over your own fingers—you haven’t touched yourself in a while so the orgasm has you chasing your breath. You really need to start investing in some toys or something.

And no, not a partner. They’re nothing but disappointments waiting to happen.

A whine leaves your lips when you realize you have to get up and wash your hands, clean them of your slick. Your legs lazily swing off the side of the couch as you sit straight up.

You go to the kitchen to wash your hands and by the time you get comfortable on your couch again, you reach for your phone. You reply to the ‘Me and who?’ tweet with;

‘me i hope lol. cause i just came so hard to this video’

Then, you like the original tweet and lock your phone for the night, turning over and immediately drifting off into a deep slumber.

You don’t hear your annoying neighbor for the rest of the night.

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The following morning, you stir and slurp up the drool that had trickled down your chin. You must’ve been exhausted. How embarrassing.

Your hand reaches up and wipes your chin clean with the back of your hand as you sit straight up, scratching the back of your head as you try to wake up.

You glance at your phone and it says 10:03AM.

Fuck!

You shoot up from your couch, cursing to yourself. You’re supposed to meet a friend today at 10:30AM.

After taking a quick shower, putting on your clothes for the day and doing your hair & makeup, you quickly exit your apartment and lock the doors behind you before heading to the elevator.

Your phone buzzes.

[10:44AM]

Jimin

Incoming call

Shit!

Your finger taps the green button to accept the call. “Jimin,” you say, apologetically.

“Hey,” he mumbles. “Where are you?”

You quickly slam your fingers into the elevator button, hoping the more you tap on it, the quicker it’ll arrive.

“I’m so sorry, Jimin. I overslept. I’ll tell you the details when I get there.”

“Alright, no worries. I thought something bad happened, is all.”

Finally, the elevator arrives and opens up, making you hurry inside.

“Oh, no, nothing happened, I’m okay.”

Right as the elevator doors finally close, a hand slips right in between the gap before they fully close, forcing it open.

“Okay, good! I’ll save us a spot.”

You barely register Jimin’s words when the doors open and your eyes are met with none other than your annoying fucking neighbor.

You do your best not to groan at the sight in front of you and he doesn’t seem too happy about being in this small elevator with you for 30 seconds either, evident by the frown on his thick brows and the twitch in his lips.

“Y/N?”

Jimin’s voice drags you out of your trance, making you avert your gaze from the rude loser in front of you, watching as he walks into the elevator within your peripherals and settling right across from you.

“Oh, sorry. Yeah. I’ll see you soon.” You don’t say much else as you hang up the phone, shoving it into your purse before intently staring at the floor like it’s got something important to tell you.

He does the same, though. He’s not staring back, his chin is tilted up and you can only assume he’s glaring at the little screen above the button panel that indicates what floor you’re on.

The tension is so thick, it could snap with the single slice of a dull butterknife.

It seems to be the longest 30 seconds of your life, the occasional mechanical sounds as the elevator slides in between floors fill up your ears like it’s being blasted on a speaker at the highest volume right next to your head.

You allow your eyes to subtly travel to his hand, catching a glimpse of his tattooed knuckles and fingers that are clad in silver rings.

Fuck.

You avert your eyes before he catches you staring but you continue to just stare at the floor, bringing up your hand to scratch behind your ear in hopes you’d feel less awkward.

But it doesn’t help at all.

Fortunately, you safely make it to the ground floor and the elevator doors slowly open up. He doesn’t even have the decency to let you out first, just struts right out without another look at you and you watch as his figure disappears down the lobby.

You scoff to yourself but don’t let it get to you, ‘cause who cares? Walking out, you quickly exit the elevator too, heading out through a backdoor to get to your car.

Hmph. Jerk.

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You finally arrive at your destination, immediately spotting Jimin in the back.

With a saunter, you approach him quickly and sit down across from him.

“Hey,” he chirps as he puts his iced coffee down, nodding towards another right next to his to indicate it’s yours.

“Hi,” you breathe out as you plop down on the seat across from him, stirring your iced coffee with the paper straw.

“You’ve been oversleeping a lot, haven’t you? Is something the matter?” he inquires, tilting his head to search for your eyes.

Your hand comes up to rub your hairline, a soft sigh pushing past your lips as you stare at the cup in front of you. “My damn neighbor is getting way more fucking annoying with each passing day, Jimin. I don’t know how to deal with him.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs in solidarity to your frustration. “That same guy? You two have been bickering for more than half a year, give it a rest.”

“It’s not my damn fault!” you whine, taking a sip of your iced coffee, almost moaning as the sweet goodness hits your tongue.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Anyway,” he starts, “how have you been?”

You part your lips to reply to him but get caught off guard by your phone buzzing. You intend to ignore it but then your phone buzzes again, again, and again. You wince when you see Jimin’s expression, offering him an apologetic smile as you glance down at your phone, reading the notification.

[Twitter]

@archurback4me liked your reply!

[Twitter]

@archurback4me liked your tweet!

[Twitter]

@archurback4me retweeted your tweet!

[Twitter]

@archurback4me followed you back!

Holy shit. What the fuck?

You’ve been following this NSFW account since forever! You can’t believe they just followed you back. You never expected them to notice you, much less follow and retweet one of your tweets.

“Y/N?” Jimin taps the table with his fingers right next to your drink to get your attention and he finally does.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble and lock your phone, forcing yourself to dive back into the conversation but your mind is still clouded with being followed back by your favorite account. “Sorry. What were we talking about?”

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As soon as you say goodbye to Jimin, you get in your car, reach for your phone in your pockets and quickly open Twitter. The order of notifications can only mean one thing; they liked your reply to their tweet, clicked on your account, scrolled through your account—because the tweet of yours they liked and retweeted is from a few days ago—and then followed you. You scroll through your notifications, noticing how the tweet they RTed has been blowing up.

The tweet of yours they retweeted is an amateur porn video of a guy fucking a girl in speed-bump-position, hips rocking into her ass as soft moans spill from her lips.

You captioned it ‘me and you’ and now there are hundreds of accounts under your tweet, saying stuff like ‘Fuck yeah’, tagging other accounts, asking for the source of the video and more.

You can’t believe your favorite account followed you back, how insane is that?

Your leg bounces up as you start scrolling through their account, your tweet being right at the top of their page.

Ah! This is so exciting.

You quickly ditch your phone, tossing it into the passenger seat before driving home.

Upon your arrival at your building’s parking lot, you quickly shimmy out of your car and jog towards the front door in excitement, barely able to contain yourself when you think about all the new accounts that have followed you and interacted with you because of that one interaction with @archurback4me.

You unlock the door to your building’s lobby and hurry inside but just as quickly, you bump into what seems to be a brick wall.

Except, it isn’t a brick wall—it’s your annoying neighbor’s chest.

(Who’s also really sexy.)

“Ow,” you mumble, reaching up to rub your nose to soothe the impact of colliding face first with his body.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going?” he grumbles but doesn’t seem to have any intention to rid himself of the proximity between you two.

You shoot him a glare and part your lips to shoot a comeback but you stop yourself when you hear sniffles coming from your shoes. Your head tilts down and your eyes are met by a brown Dobermann sniffing your feet and calves.

“Stop that, Bam,” he says as he gently tugs on the leash, putting an end to the dog’s greeting to you.

You’ve seen his dog before and—unlike him—the dog is pretty sweet.

“Oh, hi, you,” you coo, reaching your hand out to Bam’s snout to let him get a sniff of you and he does, tail wagging back and forth.

You glance up at your shitty neighbor, who is just staring at you with a soft scrunch between his thick brows. You hate how good he looks. Someone with a face that pretty shouldn’t have an attitude that foul, it makes them ugly.

Your brow quirks up, your way of asking for permission to pet his dog without giving him the satisfaction of asking him verbally.

His response is a simple shrug of his shoulders, which makes you instantly turn your attention back to Bam. Your hand starts stroking over his soft head, giving him chin and tummy scratches.

The dog leans into your touch, seemingly craving more and you intend to do that. You squat down but in the instance that you do, you regret it.

Bam instantly lunges at you and it makes you lose your balance, his strength is enough to knock you over and fall flat on your ass with a soft thud on the hard tiles. You don’t even get the chance to process what’s going on when Bam climbs onto your body and licks at your face, coating it in his slimy kisses.

“Bam!” his owner shouts, hands flying towards his dog’s harness immediately to get Bam off you and he finally does.

You wipe your wet cheeks with the sleeves of your shirt before rising to your feet again, dusting off your pants.

“Sorry about that, he can get pretty excited. Did you happen to eat any chicken today?” he asks you and you have to pretend to not be shocked with the way he’s interacting with you as if he views you as an equal and not an insect, like he usually does.

You soothe the sting in your elbows from the fall by rubbing it with your hands as you frown at him. “Yeah, I did.”

He slowly nods at your words and waves a warning finger at Bam, dark eyes silently lecturing him like a parent to their child in public.

Bam doesn’t care, though, simply continues to run in circles and chase his own tail.

“He lacks manners sometimes,” he mumbles to himself as he stares at his dog—that’s cutely running in circles like an idiot.

“Hm,” you pause, “like his owner?”

Smack cam.

His head snaps at you, an agitated frown on his brows. He clearly does not like that.

With that, you turn on your heels and head to the elevator without looking back at him but in your peripherals, you notice that he’s still standing there, glaring at you.

You click on the button to summon the elevator to avoid his intense gaze, he’d bore you into the ground if you were to look at him right this moment.

Unfortunately, the silence doesn’t last long enough.

“You literally complain about every little thing like a fucking granny, give me a break.” His voice is raised with the intention that you can hear him loud and clear, after the distance you put in between you two—his tone full of venom and mockery.

“And you game loud as fuck every minute of the night like a fucking loser. How about you give me a break?” you retort, foot tapping against the tiles underneath your shoe in impatience as you wait for the elevator to arrive.

He replies, “It’s not my fault your bedroom is right next to my gaming setup.”

Right, you told him about that fact during one of your many nightly adventures that are located at his front door with balled fists and flared nostrils.

But it’s not your fault either.

The elevator dings and you can finally release that breath you were holding, chest slowly deflating. You place one foot inside before turning your head in his direction to glance at him, eyes meeting his angry gaze.

“It’s not my fault either. I guess you’re just gonna keep seeing me in front of your door every other week, asking you to be a decent fucking human and be considerate of others.” You take one step into the elevator just so the doors don’t close on you after the words coated with poison leave your lips, almost stinging your own tongue. “And you have the audacity to blame that poor dog for his lack of manners? Seems like someone can’t take responsibility.”

You fully step into the elevator without another word but that’s not necessary when you see the surprised look on his face before hopping in.

That’s what he gets, you suppose.

Once you enter your apartment, you toss your keys onto the accent table by the door and kick off your shoes, leaving them unorganized by the door. You saunter into your bathroom and quickly strip, turning the water on in your shower to heat it up.

However, right as you’re about to step in, there’s angry banging on your front door.

Ah. Whoever could that be?

You wrap a big white towel around your naked body and approach your front door, creating a small gap as you open it whilst hiding your body behind it.

Why the fuck is he here?

“I’m moving my gaming setup to my room tonight. If I hear one more goddamn complaint from you, I’m making my dog shit all over your fucking doormat,” he pauses, big black eyes glaring into yours. He leans in a bit closer and it seems like only then that you realize he’s been pushing your front door further open with his elbow. “Are we clear?”

His furious gaze almost stings you. Summoning daggers to shoot into your skin. Planting a thorned vine around your throat. Letting it sink its sharp teeth into your flesh until you bleed out. That’s the only way you can describe his suffocating glare.

His breath fans over your face, a subtle reminder that he’s standing close. Too close.

You swallow in an attempt to rid yourself of the drought in your throat he just created. “It doesn’t matter where you move it to. If I hear you, I’m going to complain. Whether that’s right next to my bedroom wall or at the end of your corridor, you fucking freak.”

And with that, you slam the door shut in his face before he can say anything else.

Who does he think he is?

Threatening you his dog’s feces. What a freak!

You huff to yourself as you stare at the closed door for a moment longer before angrily stomping to the bathroom. You reach for your phone and notice some more notifications from Twitter, which instantly reminds you of what happened earlier today and makes you forget about the interaction with your neighbor just now.

Should you message the account? You totally want to! The owner of the account has posted occasional pictures of his body parts but never his face. No matter what he looks like physically, he’s so fucking attractive for his fantasies and the way he speaks.

You scroll a bit through the account until you see a picture of the account owner’s hand, captioned;

‘For the people who asked for a picture of my hand… Lol.’

With a picture of his veiny hand.

Wow.

Fuck.

Your eyes trail the outline of their fingers, nails, veins, wrist, knuckles. You’d love to have that pulling on your hair, spanking your asscheek, wrapped around your throat.

Should you just…?

Message them?

Let’s list the outcomes.

1.) Worst case scenario—they brutally reject you.

2.) Average case scenario—they never reply.

3.) Best case scenario—they reply and reciprocate the flirtatious energy.

You could live with any scenario, even the worst one. It’s just a stranger on the internet anyway.

But his private messages must be blowing up. With over 80,000 followers and thousands of likes and comments, you doubt he’d ever even see your message.

Fuck it.

Shoot your shot.

You tap the share button and choose to send the post of his own hand to him in a private message and then you tap the text box to add a few words.

Mind racing with all the things you could say, your thumbs anxiously hover over the keyboard as you contemplate your options.

Then, you start typing before you can even think it through and you hit send without another thought.

Fuck!

You | 6:31PM

(You shared @archurback4me’s tweet with @archurback4me.)

hi could you maybe not share pictures of my new necklace? people might want to steal it

Fuck. You really just implied his hand is a necklace to you, wanting it wrapped around your throat at all times. You crazy bitch.

You stare at your phone a little while longer but nothing changes. You deeply inhale and breathe out a long sigh that carries a pinch of disappointment before ditching your towel and getting into the shower.

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As you get out of the shower, you can’t help but immediately lunge at your phone, the events from before your hour-long shower booming in your mind when you check your Twitter.

Holy shit.

No messages. What a surprise.

You have requested messages but it’s just bots claiming to be sugar daddies, roleplay accounts or guys wanting you to rate their penis.

You’re a lost cause.

You groan immaturely as you toss your phone aside, drying your body with a pout on your lips and a slight frown decorating your brows.

Your phone keeps buzzing and your heart threatens to implode within your ribcage, yet every time you check it’s just a notification about your tweet being liked again or some loser in your private messages talking to themselves.

Stop it. You’re like a teenager waiting for a response back from the popular guy at school, grow up.

You perform your usual routine before getting dressed in a new pyjama set, loving the way the fabric feels against your freshly shaven legs.

You make yourself a late night dinner, eating it by yourself like a loser before heading into your room and dropping onto your mattress, plugging your phone into the charger and turning over.

A gentle sigh pushes past your lips as you shut your eyes tightly, enough to make stars appear on the back of your eyelids.

Your phone buzzes again but you decide to ignore it. Sleeping time is precious.

You suppose you’ll check it out in the morning.

Wait.

What if it’s @archurback4me?

You try to ignore your thoughts. You need to sleep.

But you can’t ignore it.

You turn over and immediately reach for your phone, watching as it lights up and your heartbeat stutters in its rhythm when you see it’s a Twitter notification.

You open it up, anxiously biting down on your lip. Fuck, you need to calm down.

It’s a message. Holy shit.

Your thumb hesitates but eventually opens your private messages tab.

@ilikebigbootybitches2 | 12:09AM

Why did you block me lol

For FUCK’s sake. Did that Aaron guy really create a new account to send you another message?

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to prevent yourself from screaming your head off before locking your phone and turning over again, trying to sleep for real this time.

You should just forget about it at this point.

And you finally, slowly, drift off into a deep slumber, without a single sound coming from your neighbor’s apartment.

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The sunlight peeks through your curtains, causing you to swallow down the curse that’s sitting on the tip of your tongue. You really need to get darker curtains.

You crack your eyelids open and glare at the ceiling, softly sighing as you bring your hands up and rub the sleep out of your eyes. You reach for your phone, noticing a few more notifications from messages, Instagram and Twitter. You check your messages first, replying to Jimin’s question about whether he should cut his hair or not.

Then you open Instagram, noticing the likes people have left on your story—a picture of you hanging out with Jimin.

And then, with a deep sigh, you open Twitter, scrolling through the hundreds of notifications about your tweet being liked and retweeted. You should’ve muted that damn tweet before going to sleep.

You notice you’ve gotten new private messages and you already hold your heart to not be disappointed.

@cockandballt0rture

1 message

You sigh in annoyance and open to read it.

@cockandballt0rture | 8:43AM

hey cutie

You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

@ilikebigbootybitches2

4 messages

For fuck’s sake. Doesn’t this guy know when to give up? You open the conversation nonetheless.

@ilikebigbootybitches2 | 6:01AM

I didn’t even do anything

I’m sorry if I said something wrong

Yo unblock me bitch

Goodmorning beautiful

What a fucking freak. These were all sent in the span of 2 hours. What a red flag.

Your mood is worsening the more time you spend in your private messages tab.

@archurback4me

2 messages

You’re not even in the mood to keep checking, you just…

Wait.

Holy fucking shit.

Is that…?

It is.

It’s him.

He replied.

A lump forms in your throat and it unleashes a bag of sand all over your tongue, drying out your mouth in the process. Why the hell are you so nervous? Just check the messages!

Average case scenario has been thrown out the window. It’s either brutal rejection or reciprecation.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Your thumb taps the unread messages and your eyes intently watch as his response is revealed to you.

@archurback4me | 2:12AM

Necklace, huh? Lol. Can’t lie, I like that a lot. That’s a good one.

First time talking to me and you’re already demanding and claiming me? ‘Brat galore’ for sure. Someone needs to teach you some manners, Angel.

Holy shit.

Oh, shit. What the hell?

Why is your heart pounding in your throat? You wanted this.

It’s excitement. With a mixture of anxiety, maybe. Just breathe. You’ve always got good comebacks, make use of them!

Okay, you will. You wanted him to reply and he did. Now, think about what you want to say to make sure this conversation keeps going.

You decide not to answer just yet, it’s barely 10AM. Go wash your face and brush your teeth before you even begin to think about being horny.

You rub your eyes once more and swing your legs off the bed. Damn, you slept well tonight. You actually didn’t hear a thing from next door. You won’t applaud him for it but you’re glad you’ve finally slept undisturbed a whole night.

You freshen up, make yourself breakfast, lazily watch TV. You do every and anything to get your mind off of that message. Unfortunately, you’re an impatient bitch.

You | 11:16AM

someone needs to teach me manners? i don’t think anyone has the capability to put up with me like that lol. being annoying is like my second nature

You almost want to scream at the amount of strength you use to not cringe at yourself. It’s been too fucking long since you’ve gotten laid, holy shit.

You continue to watch TV, satisfied with just having a lazy Sunday.

2 hours in, you’re chewing obnoxiously loud on some Cheetos, chugging back a can of soda as you’re deep into this murder-mystery show, pausing several times to explain your theories at the wall like a fucking loser.

Damn, you need friends.

Your phone buzzes.

You absentmindedly glance at your phone before back at the TV, shoving some more cheese balls into your mouth.

Until the notification registers in your brain.

You almost choke when you lunge at your phone and unlock it.

Twitter notification.

Fuck.

@archurback4me | 1:23PM

Are you challenging me? Lol

Oh.

Yes. Yes, you are.

Would you look desperate if you replied right away?

Man, fuck it! You’re not a high schooler. It’s a Sunday and you have nothing better to do.

Your thumbs dance across your keyboard as you type in your message and send it.

You | 1:24PM

that depends. do you like to be challenged?

You return your attention to your TV, fighting so hard not to glance at your phone.

It’s easier when you remember it takes him a while to respond anyway, so no need to—

Your phone buzzes.

You immediately lunge at your phone as if his message contains an acceptance letter from Harvard Law.

@archurback4me | 1:27PM

Who doesn’t like to prove others wrong? Especially when the others in question are brats that love to run their mouth lol

Why are you getting horny over some random text? Get yourself together!

You | 1:28PM

and how would mr. smartass know i’m a brat that loves to run her mouth?

@archurback4me | 1:28PM

Aside from you literally just proving my point by talking to me like this and your username being @bratgaIore?

Scrolled through your account a bit. Your captions tell me everything I need to know lol

Nice panties btw

Nice panties?

But you didn’t send him any photos of your…

Holy shit.

He scrolled far enough on your account to find the one indecent picture you posted months ago, a photo of you bent over in the mirror with your perky ass in the air, showcasing the small patch of slick that had leaked from your pussy, through the baby blue colored fabric.

Your face isn’t even in the picture nor are there any recognizable features but publishing photos of yourself on your porn account makes you nervous so you try to avoid it at all costs.

So, why the hell do you find yourself digging up the blue panties from the picture in your drawers right now? Stop!

What are you even doing?

You | 1:35PM

panties?

oh you mean these?

(You sent a photo.)

You can’t believe you just sent him a photo of you on your knees, camera placed behind you, angled at your ass with only the panties covering your buttcheeks and a slightly arched back. What the hell is wrong with you?

He didn’t even have to say or ask anything, you really just did that on your own accord. Are you insane? Since when do you do stuff like this?

@archurback4me | 1:37PM

Lmfao

Fuck lol yeah those

You’re fine as fuck lol

Did you take that just now? For me?

Fuck. Is it that obvious? Now you seem desperate.

You | 1:38PM

you wish

@archurback4me | 1:40PM

Lol. Barely exchanged 5 messages and you’re already driving me up the fucking wall

You | 1:41PM

i already told you no one can put up w me and i take pride in that 🫶

@archurback4me | 1:44PM

Oh, I’m not saying I can’t handle that smart mouth of yours

I’m saying I wanna fuck the shit out you lmao

Oh.

Okay.

Why are your thighs clenching and why is your pussy tingling?

You | 1:45PM

you think i’d let you?

@archurback4me | 1:47PM

You’d beg me babe

Fuck. He’s so fucking cocky. You can’t help but love everything he’s saying.

You | 1:48PM

you sound confident

@archurback4me | 1:48PM

I am. Are you chickening out after all that spewing?

You | 1:49PM

as if

He doesn’t respond for another while so you check his account. He has a new tweet.

‘I’m so fucking hard. Lol’

11 RTs. 54 likes.

Oh. Okay. That’s cool.

@archurback4me | 1:51PM

So, you agree that you’d let me?

You | 1:51PM

aren’t you being a little too cocky?

@archurback4me | 1:53PM

Lmfao

Don’t you like it?

Fuck. You do. You really do.

You | 1:54PM

maybe

but only because i’m cocky too

@archurback4me | 1:55PM

Yeah lol I can tell

And I’ll fuck it right out of you. Dumb girl

Ah, shit. He’s really getting to you.

You | 1:55PM

ur the dumb one 😒

@archurback4me | 1:57PM

Sure I am

For letting you run your mouth like this and not being able to show you the consequences

Already starting to piss me off

You | 1:58PM

good. i enjoy pissing men off. y’all don’t deserve to smile

@archurback4me | 2:00PM

LMAO

Ok you made me laugh

Only makes me wanna fuck your face more though

You | 2:02PM

but you won’t so there’s really no need to talk big game

@archurback4me | 2:03PM

Lmao

You | 2:03PM

what’s so funny i wanna laugh too

@archurback4me | 2:04PM

Nothing

I’m laughing ‘cause I don’t think anyone’s ever been able to piss me off solely through DMs before

You | 2:05PM

yeah well i’m not gonna keep repeating myself

@archurback4me | 2:07PM

Trust I’ll fuck the shit out of you one day. Dumb brat. Make you drool all over my dick like you’re fucking stupid

Damn. Damn. DAMN. You’ve never folded this easily over some sexts, what is he doing to you?

You | 2:09PM

and that day won’t be anytime soon so i’ll say whatever the hell i want in the meantime 😝

@archurback4me | 2:10PM

Lmao

Right

Are you alone right now?

You | 2:12PM

yep

why

@archurback4me | 2:12PM

No reason

Just been thinking about those panties since you showed them

You | 2:13PM

oh these?

(You sent a photo.)

You know you’re petty for sending him a picture of your middle finger but you couldn’t help it.

@archurback4me | 2:14PM

LMAOOOOO

Mannnn

I was excited too

You | 2:16PM

tell you what

i’ll give you another glimpse if you can prove your latest tweet to me

@archurback4me | 2:17PM

My latest tweet?

You | 2:17PM

yep

@archurback4me | 2:18PM

Ah. I see. Lol.

You don’t reply just yet, waiting to see if he takes you up on your offer. Or compromise, whatever you want to call it.

A few minutes of no interaction go by and you can only assume he might actually be doing it.

Then, your phone buzzes.

@archurback4me | 2:22PM

(🕷️🥀 sent a photo.)

Another lump forms in your throat as you tap the message, allowing it to show you the photo he sent you.

And holy fucking shit.

Low angle, hand gripping his massive boner through his grey sweatpants, tank top lifted to his belly button, happy trail leading down his toned abs and disappearing under the hem of his sweats.

@archurback4me | 2:22PM

Satisfied?

Fuck, you can’t even put into words how hot this is right now. You stare at the photo for a few minutes, your poor bottom lip swollen from how hard you’ve been chewing and sucking on it.

You immediately spread your legs, aiming your front camera right at your sex from a low angle—whilst making sure to keep your face out of it—and capturing the big wet patch on your pussy that proves your arousal at this moment.

You | 2:25PM

(You sent a photo.)

does this answer your question?

@archurback4me | 2:27PM

Damn you’re so

Lmao.

Lmfaooooiwannafuckyousobadooooo

You that wet from being called a dumb girl?

You | 2:27PM

LMAOOOO

but no. i’m that wet from pissing you off. dumbass

@archurback4me | 2:28PM

Yeah, you’re doing a great job at it.

But that’s okay

It’s great even. Keep running your mouth

You | 2:28PM

yeah?

@archurback4me | 2:28PM

Absolutely

Gonna be that much sweeter when I fuck you silly and you’re just gonna be a dumb cock hungry whore swearing you didn’t mean to say all that

You | 2:29PM

then you clearly don’t know me that well

@archurback4me | 2:30PM

You’re right I don’t

Tell me a bit about yourself, angel

Oh, shit. What do you tell him? How much do you say? How much do you keep private? You’ve never gotten to this stage in sexting, it’s usually just horrible questions about what you’re wearing and whether you’re wet. It’s never gotten to a personal stage before.

You | 2:32PM

hmm what do you wanna know?

@archurback4me | 2:33PM

Everything, princess. I’m a bit intrigued

I’d like to know all about you

Do you work? Study? What brings you to this side of Twitter?

Oh, that’s… surprising. You’d think he rarely gives the people in his DMs the time of day, you wonder what he finds intriguing about you. Is it really just the fact that you can get him so worked up without having to do much more than put your annoying mouth to use?

Maybe he has the same problems as you, boring fucking people in your DMs and now someone has come along that piques your interest. You’re relieved you piqued his interest as much as he did yours. Well, maybe not as much but enough to ask you about your personal life.

You | 2:35PM

i don’t really work or study. i have a degree in social work and my parents are currently in the process of building a school so i’ll be working there once it’s finished

and i came to this side of twitter because i’m horny as fuck lol

@archurback4me | 2:37PM

Ah, interesting

And yeah… I suppose that was a dumb question lol

You | 2:39PM

just now realizing that ur dumb? lol

@archurback4me | 2:39PM

Lol

Don’t piss me off

You ok w being called a slut and stuff right? I’ve seen you tweet about it before but still wanna make sure

You | 2:39PM

yeah i like it a lot when done right. thanks for making sure

@archurback4me | 2:40PM

No need to thank me for that

Is Angel your name?

You | 2:40PM

you can call me angel

@archurback4me | 2:40PM

I can but it doesn’t make sense to me

You | 2:40PM

wdym?

@archurback4me | 2:41PM

I mean that you’re a fucking brat and nowhere near angelic

You | 2:42PM

lol

well now i hope it stings you every time you call me angel

@archurback4me | 2:43PM

Lol

You’ve made me so fucking hard

I can’t stand you

You | 2:43PM

lol

ur a bit easy

@archurback4me | 2:43PM

Coming from miss idk-you-but-don’t-spread-pics-of-my-necklace-aka-your-hand

You roll your eyes and chuckle, moving your camera downwards and recording as you push your panties to the side. You drag your finger up your wet slit and slowly pull it away, showing the camera just how wet you are when the string of slick stays connected to your fingers as you pull them away from your sex.

You rewatch the video a few times, eyes glued to the way your fingers slide your panties to the side to reveal your bare pussy to the camera. With your pussy glistening under the sunlight, it looks quite mesmerizing. Your teeth pick at the inside of your cheek as you add it to your message.

You | 2:48PM

lol touché

but i never said i wasn’t easy

look where it’s got me

(You sent a video.)

The jolt of electricity traveling up your spine can only be described as your heart skipping a beat. You can’t believe you just did that. Sure, you’ve sent inappropriate photos before, but you’ve never actually sent anyone nudes. Not anyone that wasn’t your romantic partner, at least.

You watch in silence as the typing bubble pops up and then disappears. Fuck. You wonder what he wants to say.

Several minutes pass. Shit, did you overstep?

You get up from your couch to get yourself a cold drink in hopes it’ll cool you down but after chugging the entire can of soda, you realize nothing is going to help you right now.

Fuck. Why are you panicking? Calm down. He’s just–

Your phone buzzes.

@archurback4me | 2:58PM

(🕷️🥀 sent a video.)

@archurback4me reacted to your message with ‘❤️’!

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

He’s full on stroking his rock hard dick, precum oozing from the tip, shaft wet and lubed up. Fuck. It’s so fucking hot.

You can’t help yourself as you jog to your room, jumping onto your bed and ditching your panties as you do.

You start pumping your fingers into your drenched pussy while watching the video, your own touch not doing enough for you. You wish he was here, ready to pound you for hours on end.

You click the voice memo option and hit record, holding your phone near your pussy as you start deliberately fucking your fingers into your sex faster to create the loud squelching sound as you try to keep yourself from moaning in the background but to no avail, you’re pretty sure a few faint moans can be heard in the voice memo but you don’t care. You’re so fucking turned on and it’s his fault.

Your thumb trembles as it hovers over your keyboard but just as quickly, your thumb slams down on the send button and you toss your phone to the side.

Ugh, what an odd feeling. This is weird.

Your teeth anxiously go on a rampage by tearing the loose flesh around your nails clean off your fingers as you await his response. He probably has multiple people in his DMs sending him these types of things, why would yours stand out?

But just like clockwork, your phone buzzes.

@archurback4me | 3:09PM

Are you trying to fucking kill me

What the fuck

You | 3:10PM

just now realizing that?

ur not very bright are you

@archurback4me | 3:10PM

Lmao

You’re gonna regret talking this much shit

You | 3:11PM

threatening me with a good time?

surely you can do better than that

@archurback4me | 3:11PM

Lmfaoooo

I’m looking forward to fucking all that brattiness out of you

Corrupt you and use you as I please

Dumb fucking girl

You | 3:11PM

me too

but unfortunately ur all talk no action

@archurback4me | 3:12PM

LMAOOO you’re actually pissing me off

Gonna be thinking about you whenever I’m fucking someone now

And it’s all your fault

You | 3:12PM

LOLLLL

good

you should be thinking about me

@archurback4me | 3:12PM

Lol

Of course you would say that

Brat

You | 3:12PM

sorry

can’t help it if you make me feel special

@archurback4me | 3:13PM

How am I making you feel special

You | 3:13PM

telling me no one has ever pissed you off like this and we’ve just started talking

i told you i take pride in that

@archurback4me | 3:14PM

For fucks sake

You’re so annoying

Kinda reminds me of someone I know

You | 3:15PM

lol hope they’re sexy like me

yes i quite literally told you that all the way at the start

@archurback4me | 3:15PM

Lol

But people say it often

But they don’t turn out to be annoying like they claim

Just loud and boring

You actually being annoying makes me wanna literally fuck it out of you lol

You | 3:15PM

now you’ve got me giggling

@archurback4me | 3:15PM

You like the idea of being fucked to the point of breaking, right?

Apologizing for running your mouth while you’re sobbing and drooling all over me and your pillows

Like a proper stupid girl

You | 3:16PM

sounds like a dream come true

but it won’t happen so

@archurback4me | 3:17PM

I’m a freelancer so I’m usually free but my schedule is always full around this time of year

We can meet in a few weeks if you’re up for it. I’ll fly out to wherever you want me to

You | 3:16PM

interesting

what do you do for work?

if ur ok w sharing

@archurback4me | 3:16PM

Photographer

You | 3:16PM

ouuuu

gonna take pics of me when you’ve ruined me properly?

@archurback4me | 3:17PM

If you allow me

You | 3:17PM

hmm

okay

deal

@archurback4me | 3:18PM

Finally not a smartass answer

You | 3:18PM

ur right 🤔

lemme change that real quick

shut up freak

Suddenly, he types and then stops. It makes you wonder whether you said something wrong. You keep rereading your last few messages. Did you?

@archurback4me | 3:22PM

Infuriating little brat

Pissing me off

Anyway

I’m gonna go walk my dog but thanks to you I have to go fuck my hand first

Don’t miss me too much

I’ll talk to you later. x

You | 3:22

okay

send me a vid of you fucking my necklace

aka a vid of you masturbating

lol jkjk

i’ll try not to miss you

@archurback4me | 3:23PM

Lmaooo

Oh? 2 non-smartass answers back to back

You’re already breaking for me and I haven’t done anything

You | 3:24PM

piss off loser

go walk your dog

@archurback4me | 3:25PM

Watch your mouth Angel

I will

Talk to you later

You | 3:26PM

sorry sir

baiii

You put your phone down and can’t help but smile widely, lips twitching at its corners as you try to stop yourself from getting…too excited.

Because then it dawns on you.

You still don’t know his name.

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it has been genuinely devastating to see major governments, global news outlets and ignorant celebrities spreading a narrative that supports and upholds a regime responsible for the genocide of thousands of innocent lives. palestinians have been suffering for decades and nobody has cared; nobody has offered them the empathy that is now being so generously handed to a military force that is brutally murdering and displacing the palestinian people. 2.2 million people in gaza have had their electricity, food, water and fuel cut off. we are witnessing firsthand the utter annihilation of a population — dehumanising media coverage, blatant islamophobic propaganda, hundreds of children massacred — please understand that taking a "neutral" stance is siding with the oppressor. free palestine today, tomorrow, forever. from the river to the sea 🇵🇸

global conflict tracker

palestine resource library

donate to islamic relief worldwide

donate to medical aid for palestinians

donate to the palestine children's relief fund

ㅤㅤㅤ꒰ 𝙵rɑppuccɩno ᰍㅤ୨୧ 𓈒 ꒱ 바닐라

i’m levitating this was so good 😩😩😩🩷

— heaven ღ

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance

warnings: strong allusions to kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, mentions of reader getting locked up, a tiny (👌) bit of angst, possessiveness, corruption kink, rough sex, choking, praise, humiliation (verbal), dirty talk, hair pulling, implied big!dick jk 💁‍♀️, he's a simp, creampie, some aftercare & lots of kisses, still messed up tho lmao I'm sorry <3

It never seemed that heaven would be so dark. A room draped in shadows, the door carefully locked. Not even a glint of moonlight broke through the drawn curtains; complete isolation from the world down below.

Even if Jungkook turned on the lights, you wouldn't have been able to see much; not with your face pressed into the mattress rocking beneath your knees. The headboard banged against the wall rhythmically, the sound mingling with each slap of his balls against you, thrusts deep and hard, stretching you out to your limits.

You could feel his chest pressing down onto your back, skin warm and sweaty. His hand remained on your head, lips hovering above your ear. The sounds spilling out of them made your head spin, drool seeping into the sheets by your open mouth.

"Always such a good girl for me," he whispered, hot and low. His fingers tangled in your hair, giving it a tender pull. "Fuck me back." His free hand squeezed your hip, encouraging you to move. "Come on, baby. Fuck me back."

Your pussy clenched uncontrollably, muffled whines growing louder. Mindlessly, your hips moved with Jungkook's guidance, numb to anything but the searing pleasure of his cock spearing through you.

"Yeah— fuuck—" the soft groans turned deeper, your little hole soaked and so fucking desperate; just the way he liked it. Just as desperate for him as he was for you.

He grit his teeth, trying to hold a little longer, abdomen tensing against you.

"I love you," he gasped, "tell me what you want, baby. I'll give you anything you want."

A hiss escaped him when he felt you tighten again, signaling that you knew exactly what he meant, and your pretty, little head was no less depraved than his own. That only spurred him on, made his hips snap against your ass faster, sloppier, sweat shining on his temple.

He wasn't expecting you to be coherent and provide an answer to his question; it was like he just wanted to establish dominance, mark his claim, driven by the sadistic instincts that flickered to life in him in the raw dark, like stars. Equally charming and destructive.

"Gonna," he breathed, the slaps of skin against skin harsh and relentless, "gonna come on my cock, you pathetic whore? You're so good for me. You know you're mine, only mine, and this little pussy knows it too. Always so fucking wet for me."

It seemed more like taunting than a simple reminder, like he was trying to get under your skin; as if he didn't already make a home within your ribcage. As if he hasn't infested your bloodstream the first time he had kissed you. The filthy words messed with your mind, made your hole pulse around him harder with each thrust.

"Mm, fuck, fuck, ah, why so quiet tonight?" He moaned into your ear, gently slipping his hand around your neck. He gave it a firm squeeze, immediately getting one back on his cock, throbbing and slippery as it pounded into you. "Come all over me, kitten, don't hold back."

You whimpered, your thighs shaking under his, teeth biting into your lower lip, hard. Didn't he fuck your brains out in the last three months? There should have been no thoughts left there at all, and yet something seemed to be wrong, like some semblance of doubt was keeping you hostage tonight. Didn't he do a good job getting rid of that? Jaw tensing, he choked you harder, snapping his hips forward faster.

"I said be a good girl and come for me," he gritted.

He was desperately close himself, his cock hot and swollen, spurting precum as it rubbed against your walls.

"Fucking come for me," Jungkook groaned. "This was supposed to be a celebration, just you and me. Stop holding back. Do you want me to bring you back down to the fucking basement?"

You gasped, but he could barely hear it over his ragged breathing, especially with how tightly his veiny hand had enveloped your frail neck. However, he could still feel you, especially on his sensitive cock.

"Oh... oh, fuck, are you—"

You quivered around it, so tight his movements stuttered, white spots dancing around his vision at the sensation.

"Did you just come? You want me to keep you like a fucking pet, don't you, baby? Oh god, yeah—"

A burst of warmth spilled inside you, your skin tingling and head fuzzy with the limited oxygen his grip on you provided. You shuddered under him, moaning as he fucked his cum deep into your abused cunt. You could feel him all the way in your stomach, his groans breathy as kept twitching inside you. Oh, he liked this; how much he corrupted you, how hard you came at the thought of him owning you. He liked it, because he came hard as well, hand loosening around your throat as his hips stilled, last, few spurts of hot seed shooting into you.

You tried to catch your breath, soft kisses trailed along your shoulder slowly bringing you back down from your high. You felt warm, satiated, full; you felt Jungkook's lips quirking in a satisfied smile against your skin, too, his cheek resting on your neck.

"Good girl," he whispered. "So good. I love you."

"I love you," you sighed, eyes slipping shut.

Jungkook hummed.

"Finally got your voice back?" He brushed your hair to the side, exposing more of your skin, his lips pressing into your cheek. "Should I be concerned, baby? Do you want me to stay a little longer?"

You shook your head. Any other time, Jungkook would have cleaned you up, especially before going anywhere. Tonight, though, he wanted you just like this. Naked, in his bed, with his cum dripping out of you as you drifted off. You didn't seem to mind either, heartbeat and breathing turning steady as Jungkook started getting dressed.

You were almost asleep by the time he crouched down by the bed, the touch of his lips on yours making you stir.

"You know this is just for show, right?"

His question was soft, eyebrows furrowed. No matter how strong, it looked like not even Jungkook could escape some monsters — something like doubt, something like concern. Everything only felt amplified when it came to you.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Promise."

Perhaps three months ago his words would have hurt; but there was no wound anymore, only scars, and his gentle fingers ghosting over them.

Your soft reply smoothed out the frantic, worried fabrics of his soul, the image of you lying there, in his room, glowing; surrounded by his scent and his sheets, so domestic. It was everything he ever needed. His sacred place.

He sighed, contented, pressing the next kiss onto your forehead.

"Good. Mm, then rest. Just stay here and look pretty, my love. I'll collect your ransom and be right back."

He brushed his knuckles along your flushed cheek, dark, hooded eyes boring into yours.

"Can I have another kiss for good luck?"

A pleased hum left him when you leaned in, lips pouty and swollen, ready to be kissed more and more, and how could he ever not want to do just that?

He held your face with an inked hand, and a black mask in the other.

Heaven was a pricey thing to uphold; the church would know. And not that Jungkook didn't already have enough to spoil you, but all angels were painted in gold, weren't they?

"Night, baby," he murmured lovingly.

His voice never led you astray, lulling you to sleep, helping you land safely in the arms of the mellow abyss behind your eyelids. He kissed both.

"Gonna be back real soon."

You didn't get to hear that promise, but he didn't mind. In a few hours, he'll be holding you in his arms. All angels were shimmering gold, to match the golden gates; his angel deserved the same.

In the end, there was nothing wrong with a man of faith collecting some donations for the purposes of worship. Right?

this racer jimin is all i'm thinking about now for the rest of the month 😵‍💫😵‍💫 this was perfect

high on love — pjm

Jimin has once again won a race and he takes you out on a ride for the night, taking dangerous but very exciting risks. He should have expected that the rush of adrenaline in your body always turns you into a horny mess.

⚡︎ pairing: racer!jimin x fem!reader

⚡︎ genre: established relationship, smut

⚡︎ word count: 6.4k

⚡︎ warnings: unrealistic depiction of motor sports, jimin likes cars & oc is a bimbo lol, lots of cute nasty shit, disrespect of speed limits (jimin's breaking the law ‼️🙀), if this isn't the perfect representation of how deprived i am idk what is, sexting, nudes exchange, dom jimin/sub reader, unprotected sex, public/car sex, praising & degradation, brief anal play, blowjob, cum eating.

a.n.: it's jimin's special day 🤭 so i'm giving myself a gift lol. how generous of me to share it with you 🫶🏻 i finished this with a headache so y'all better hype this up (it deserves it, give it a read 😉)

"Minnie!"

"Hey, baby girl. Did you enjoy the race?"

"Yes!" You squeal excitedly, sticking your phone to your ear, happy Jimin decided to call you after his awesome performance. "You were so great," you say dreamily, "Couldn't take my eyes off of you."

You hear Jimin chuckling through the phone as you throw yourself on your bed, landing on your stomach. You bite down on your lip and start kicking your legs while listening to his husky voice, sending chills down your spine.

"I believe you," he laughs and you can't help but smile. "Won that one just for you, babe," he flirts, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You bring a finger up to your mouth and chew on your nail, practically mewling at the flattery.

Your boyfriend always manages to make you shy, teasing and flirting with you like the very first time. You imagine his plump, pink lips moving slowly to form the words, coming out of his mouth like pure and sweet honey.

"What wouldn't you do for me, hm?" You question, flirting back with him and hearing him laugh at that. "I'm so proud of you, Minnie," your purr into the telephone, an undying smile plastered on your face.

"You know me, princess," he begins and you picture the little grin he's surely sporting right now, "I never come second," he smugly snickers.

Even though you always tell him to not be too cocky — karma will come bite your ass, you usually repeat to him — you find it extremely hot at the moment. You love when a man is confident and isn't afraid to fight for what's his.

You recognize the sound of a door opening and closing on Jimin's other end of the phone, hearing him walk and rummage through his things.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Picking out an outfit for this evening," he replies, phone secured between his shoulder and ear while he takes out pieces of clothes from his suitcase. "Hopping in the shower in a minute."

"I see..." You hang on the last syllable, drawing invisible forms on the bed covers underneath you. You hear him stepping into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. "You must be so sweaty right now," you wonder, a naughty image of a sweaty Jimin appearing in your head, skin all sticky and glistening, a delicious, manly odour emanating from him.

"You bet I am," he confirms. "Talk later, yeah? I'll be at yours in four hours, babe."

You and your boyfriend are supposed to hang out later in the evening today. It was planned before the race, agreeing to see each other no matter if he wins or loses, but Jimin never comes second, does he?

You nod your head, though you remember he can't see you. "'Kay, see ya later, Minnie," you sing in response, crossing your legs and resting your chin on your open palm.

"See ya, love you."

"Love you, too."

You hang up on Jimin, sighing contentedly before throwing your iPhone on the bed and rolling on your back, looking up at the ceiling. You stay silent for a few seconds until you start humming a lullaby, improvising a random tune.

The 'ding' of your phone interrupts you and you turn your head around to look at your new notification.

💬 Jimin 💓 sent an attachment.

This immediately catches your intention so you open the chat, biting down on your lip in anticipation, belly bubbling in excitement. Your brows raise up when your eyes lay on the photo Jimin's sent you. You feel your face and core heating up, blood rushing to your poor little clit.

You click on the picture to have a closer view, and gosh, your boyfriend is fucking hot. Your mouth waters and you cannot believe how handsome he is. He has the body of an angel and the personality of the devil for sharing that pic with you.

You see his veiny cock fully hard from the underside, standing tall over his stomach, a patch of dark hair crowning his pubis. You rub your thighs together to relieve the ache between your legs, unable to look away from your phone.

You can't see his face, but you have a beautiful sight of his abdomen, coated in a thin layer of sweat. You have the insatiable need to touch him, feel his heavy length weighing down on your tongue and have your small palm wrapped around the base of it.

You want Jimin to slap your face with his cock, tease you by swiping his wet tip over your lips, letting out a disapproval 'nuh-uh' when you try to put it in your mouth out of eagerness.

He took the picture just before going into the shower. He's such a tease.

You start to type out your response, thumbs quickly pressing down on the keyboard.

You: aww minnie :( wanna put my tongue on you wanna lick all that sweat off your abs and take you so deep in my throat

Jimin 💓: yeah? wanna cry like a little bitch around my dick?

Real bad, you think, heat pooling in your panties. You feel your clit aching, but you don't want to ease the pain, don't really want to play with yourself — maybe just out of pure laziness, though you know edging yourself before seeing Jimin makes things ten times more intense. And needy.

You open the camera app and lift your crop top over your breasts, taking a quick picture of your boobs for Jimin. You go back to your conversation with him and add the nude you've just captured to the chat.

💬 You sent an attachment.

You: yes your cock's too big for me, always make my eyes sting ;( want you to cum on my tits, minnie, please make a mess of me i'm your cumslut x

Jimin 💓: love those tits but you're right, baby my good, little cumslut. god, you're so gross, you realize that?

You: not gross! just passionately wanting you to mark me as yours but i can be a lil gross while sucking your cock :p

Jimin 💓: you always eat that cock like a stupid mess anyway drooling like a dog for it

You: can't help myself when you feel so good in my mouth <3 when your cum feels so warm and creamy on my breasts gosh i wanna be with you so bad right now miss you so much minnie

Jimin 💓: you fucking minx i'll be there in a few. i've told you, didn't i, needy girl?

You: you did! but i feel so lonely without my minnie my pussy's so so wet just thinking about you :(

Jimin 💓: fuck i know coming soon. wait for me, princess

You: okie-dokie x

💬 You sent an attachment.

You: oops sorry, miss-clicked :D

Jimin 💓: you know you didn't gonna fuck those tits bite those cute perky nipples

You: they're too small for it, i fear :/

Jimin 💓: shut up you know i can fuck every part of your body if i want to you're gonna push them on your chest and make a tight little entrance for me

You: if that's what mister wants >:(

Jimin 💓: yes. i'm gonna go in the shower now, you've distracted me enough

You: good shower x

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You're happy to see Jimin parked in front of your apartment building as you walk down the stairs, getting in the passenger side of his Porsche. You don't know which model it is — not that you have registered that information when he first told you — but you know it's in a beautiful grey colour.

After closing the door, you perch yourself over the centre console and lean in toward Jimin, pursing your lips to kiss him. "Hi," you softly greet him with a smile, smooching his full lips then every part of his face.

"Hey, baby," he chuckles, letting himself be pampered in your wet and warm kisses. The wet feeling isn't really what he likes the most, but he'll never stop you from showing your affection to him. He secretly loves it.

You eventually back away with a giggle, catching the smirk Jimin tries to hide. "You have a bit of lipstick here..." You giggle again, even though you should feel guilty for staining his cheeks with the marks of your lips, but he looks too cute this way.

"Where?" he questions, brows frowning a little, "Here?" he points to his right cheek. He got it right, but it's not the only place where he has lipstick.

"Yeah, here, too." You poke his left cheek. "And some here," you whisper, talking about his jaw and tracing it, "Definitely here..." You swipe your index over his plump lips. "Oh, and more here!" You exclaim, rapidly diving in to leave a kiss to his forehead, but before you can sit back up in your seat, Jimin holds you by the waist.

You squeal, flinching when he smacks your ass with his free hand, gripping the flesh by slipping a palm under your jean skirt. "You little tease... You like making fun of me, don't you?" He sensually growls in your ear, pussy clenching around nothing.

You whine, shaking your head from side to side, holding eye-contact with him. Your hands are laying flat against his chest, leaning on him to keep yourself face to face with your boyfriend.

"No! Just like how you look with my lips all over you," you purr, grinning when Jimin quirks an eyebrow. "Gotta show everybody that you're taken..."

"I see, little miss possessive," he says, giving small taps to your butt.

"Yes, you're mine," you affirm. "Mine, mine, mine," you repeat the word over again, kissing once more Jimin's pretty face.

He shuts you up by crashing his mouth on yours, gripping you by the jaw and keeping you in place. When he breaks your exchange, he instructs you to sit in your seat. "Put your seatbelt on, princess."

You reluctantly let go of Jimin's lips and do what he told you to. Even though he scolded you for ruining his smooth face, he doesn't do anything to wipe the lipstick's stains off, which makes you smile. There aren't that many anyway, you were lying earlier, but you love it when it doesn't bother him to wear your marks like you always wear his proudly — he's the kind to bite your inner thighs while eating you out and leave the trace of his teeth on you.

"Okay, let's go!" You announce loudly, not sure where you're going — probably to his since he lives on the other side of the city — but you're still very excited nonetheless. Car rides with Jimin are always a lot of fun.

"Let's go," he repeats with a nod of his head, sending you a wink as he puts the car into drive. You giggle once again, just genuinely happy to be with your boyfriend — your favourite person on this planet.

You look outside, watching the city lights at night and the other cars with you on the road. Jimin sometimes — often — judges which car people are driving, saying this model isn't worth anything or that the brand is just shitty. You don't understand the justification, but it has no importance to you, to be quite honest. And anyway, he sounds really hot when he's talking about a subject he's an expert in.

There's the occasional asshole who accelerates at red lights, this time being a BMW, surely intimidated or jealous by the expensive Porsche next to them. You find these people super annoying, especially when they do that when they see a woman standing on the sidewalk. How little their dick has to be.

Though Jimin doesn't feel the need to do that because he's not a pathetic man, he still has to crush that guy's ego. You notice him going faster next to the other car as you enter the highway, having a bit more space and freedom.

"Minnie," you say his nickname kind of as a warning, but you know he won't listen to you. You pretend to not support this improvised car race even though you already feel the adrenaline rushing through your body.

"Hold on to the handle, baby," he commands, looking through his rear mirror to see what the other car is doing, and to his satisfaction, they're participating in the race with Jimin. "We're gonna show this guy what it is really like to race," he smirks cheekily, adjusting better his rear mirror to a better angle.

So you execute yourself, gripping the handle placed just upside the door passenger — gripping it tightly, feeling your heart start beating faster.

The feeling is pleasantly familiar, remembering the numerous times Jimin made you hop in his Mustang during his practices, going super fast and trying to impress you. You've always been really impressed.

You recall the time he went to Bordeaux, trying out the famous circuit just for fun, just because it's Jimin. You've accompanied him there and watched him race with other professionals. It was truly amazing, really thrilling.

Jimin goes up to 140 km/h really fast in a 90 km/h zone. He dodges vehicles easily, though it's tight and fucking dangerous. There are three lanes for one way of the traffic and for the other, so he has to analyze his surroundings every time he needs to change lanes.

His opponent is catching up behind, also dodging cars and trying to pass Jimin. But your boyfriend is prepared; he handles the steering wheel better. His vision is sharp, shifting between his mirror and in front of him quickly. He's an expert, a professional — the BMW has zero chance.

If it was daytime, you're sure an improvised race like this wouldn't even be conceivable, considering how packed the highway usually is, but during nighttime there are way less car on the road. It allows them to drive more freely and fluidly. It's still very risky, but you love the adrenaline rushing through your body, love how intoxicating it is.

Jimin's grip tightens around the wheel, veins popping out along his strong arms. He looks so good with jewelry, wearing a few silver rings on his fingers and a watch around his wrist. You catch a glimpse of the thirteen tattoo inked on his skin, being the date of his birthday and also the number he races with.

"Jimin... what if there's a cop?" You say worryingly.

He grins, as if this can't be a problem at all. "Then this jackass gonna chicken out," he snickers, pressing down on the accelerator with his right foot. "Look at this," he says, holding the steering wheel with a lot of force so the car doesn't drive off the road. You look forward, seeing the BMW getting ahead.

Jimin puts on the turn signal to the right as they're getting closer to an industry truck and a van. There's a small gap separating them as they're both on different lanes, a gap just big enough for the Porsche.

Your eyes widen, pulse racing faster, hearing your heartbeat in your head. It's like your heart is going to explode or come out of your chest at how intense everything feels. It's addicting.

Jimin accelerates and passes by his opponent, sneaking between the too big vehicles, keeping the turn signal on as he maneuvers his way through the small gap. Your breath is caught in your throat as he does so, holding the handle tighter and tighter, scrunching your eyes shut, believing deeply in Jimin's skills...

"Oh my fucking god," he exhales heavily as if he was also holding in his breath. This is your cue to open your eyes again, nothing in front of you, meaning Jimin has succeeded. You hear him laugh, smiling with his full set of teeth. "Fucking loser!"

You glance at him, stars in your eyes and glinting in pure admiration. You find him extremely attractive, even more than he already is. You burst out in laughter too, incapable of keeping it in, finally stressing down.

You look over your shoulder and the BMW is stuck behind the truck and the van, the space now too small to pass through. Jimin won.

He has a big arrogant smirk on his face, one hand on the wheel as he licks his lips, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth after. You know he's proud of himself, and you have to admit that you are impressed.

"That was sick!" You squeal and giggle, your heart still pounding in your chest, but eventually slowing down to a normal pace. "Minnie, it was- I... Oh, God! Awesome, it was awesome!"

He chuckles as you struggle to get the words out, absolutely surprised, but in a really good way. You lack the words to describe how you're feeling and how the whole thing was just so thrilling. The adrenaline is such a strong hormone that you still haven't recovered from the race. You'll remember this one for a very long time, that's for sure.

"It was like a rollercoaster!" You say with a lot of excitement, looking at Jimin while he has his eyes settled in front of him, soon reaching your destination.

"I knew you'd like this," he flashes you a smile, glancing in your direction for a short second. "You're a little rebel, aren't you?"

"My boyfriend's a bad boy, of course I like a bit of danger..." You flirt, making Jimin laugh again.

When the car comes to a halt, you immediately unbuckle your seatbelt and jump on Jimin, not caring if you're in the parking lot of his apartment building. You straddle his lap and your entire body is on fire. You didn't realize the race made you that horny to the point you can't even wait to be in his apartment to start fucking him.

You kiss him and he reciprocates it right away, moving his mouth over yours hungrily. You cup his cheeks and begin to rock your hips back and forth, grinding down on Jimin. He bites your lip which makes you whine softly, pulling on his dark locks at the nape of his neck.

His hands lay on your hips, guiding you over his lap, pushing your bottom down on him to intensify the grinding motion. The steering wheel sometimes pokes you in the back, but you don't pay it any attention, kissing every patch of skin on Jimin's face, descending to his sharp jaw.

You're both breathing heavily, the small binnacle of the luxury car beginning to be really restricted in air. Though, it doesn't stop you, not at all.

You smooch the side of his throat, sensing his Adam's apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want to lick and kiss every part of his body, you need it — you need to feel his smooth skin under your tongue.

Jimin smells like his favourite body wash, a scent so manly and tingly it turns you feral on its own. He's a bit sweaty now so you have the salty taste of his natural essence on your tongue, feeling how warm his body is just after an eventful race.

You slightly chew on his flesh and suck on it, wanting to mark him even more in beautiful purple love bites, adding on with the traces of your lipstick. He groans under you, tilting his head back so you have better access to his neck.

He palms your butt under your short skirt, making you grind on him more avidly. Your panties start to get wet, the material sticking to your pussy lips because of your arousal gushing out of your cunt. You're so turned on it has your brain all mushy, no thoughts other than ones about Jimin and how good he's going to feel inside of you.

Then he pulls you back by your hair, your lips leaving the crook of Jimin's neck, eyes strained down on him since he forces your head back. Your hands clasp around his t-shirt, crumpling it between your little fists.

"What's that, baby, hm?" He questions, squinting his eyes at you. You think he's referring to your eagerness, taking control without really realizing it.

"Sorry, but please..."

"That cunt's too fucking greedy, is that it?" He lifts a brow, cupping your pussy through your panties with the hand not gripping your hair. "What a little slut you are... Soaking through your underwear already?" He mocks, gliding the tip of his finger over your core, feeling how damp the material is.

You decide you better be honest, knowing a little begging always makes Jimin fold. "Yes, want you so bad, Minnie," you breathe out while humping his hand as he keeps his palm over your crotch and he enjoys how you're so desperate to the point of chasing his touch. "Need you in my pussy, need your cock to feel me up, please," you beg sweetly, clawing at his t-shirt. "Please, Minnie, please."

He observes you for a while, frowning a bit as his pretty head is reflecting, maybe asking himself if he should give you what you want or not. You let out a whine — a pathetic one — and you know that's what finally convinces him.

"Want my cock?" He asks and you nod repeatedly, still holding on his shirt like it's the only thing keeping you from falling miserably into the depth of lust. "Then fucking take it, baby," he growls lowly, biting down on his plump bottom lip, pupils blown out.

You sigh in relief, babbling out a little grateful 'thank you' as you lower your hands to his pants. He looks down at your shaky hands, a faint smirk appearing on his lips. His hand that was previously on your cunt has shifted to your thighs, caressing your curves, admiring your body that looks so frail and easy to break.

Oh, he does know how simple it is to turn you into a slutty mess, drooling and crying like a baby to have his dick, not caring in which hole it goes as long as it's nestled in you.

You yank the zipper down and work on getting his baggy jeans down his thighs. Jimin's still watching you, not bothering to give you a helping hand, quite finding it adorable how you struggle so much.

When you free his cock out of his Armani boxer briefs, you gasp softly at the sight of his semi-hard lying against his toned stomach. "Always so big, Minnie," you tease, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

And it's true. He's average, just the right length for you, but the thickness, gosh it makes you salivate. The girth isn't talked about enough because that's the thing that has you crying tears of joy when his cock splits you open, the burning sensation always a plus to your pleasure.

You love it that he doesn't shave, seeing him in all his glory, dark pubic hair decorating his pelvis. His mushroom tip peeks out from under his foreskin, your mouth watering at the thought of having it in your mouth and twirling your pink muscle around it, tasting the little beads of pre-cum on your warm tongue.

"Stop kissing my ass," he laughs, smacking one of your ass cheeks. You giggle, though you're really being honest. He's stupidly girthy, not to mention the size of his balls that never miss to slap the skin of your butt whenever he fucks you in missionary.

"I love kissing your ass, though. You deserve it, Minnie," you flatter, showing him how much you love him and his pretty cock.

"Shut up," he suddenly rasps out, taking a hold of your jaw with one hand, deft fingers poking into your chubby cheeks and making your lips purse out. "Wanna fuck that cock or not?" You mumble a 'yes' through your squished face. "Get to work, then."

He lets go of you as you grip his cock, small hand barely fitting around the girth, giving him a few lazy pumps to get him completely hard. You hum when you feel him stiff under your palm, a bit of pre-cum leaking from the slit over his swollen tip.

You smear it with your thumb, twisting your wrist as you run your hand up and down his length languidly. You spit in your hand and bring it back down to his cock, coating him in your saliva.

You slip your panties down, wiggling in every direction to get them out of the way and finally throw them away on the back seats. You smile at the thought of Jimin finding them later, remembering this filthy night, dick swelling at the dirty images of you riding him in his car.

"Want it on my pussy..." You sweetly purr, directing the head of his cock to your cunt, pressing it down on your clit. You steady yourself by placing a hand on his shoulder, the other circling your bud of nerves with his leaky tip. "Want your hot cum on my dirty little pussy," you tease again, using the same words he likes telling you in his sultry voice, so deep and raspy, making shivers run down your spine.

His dark eyes lift up from your hand guiding his cock in smooth circles over your puffy, aching clit and looks at you, catching the way you trap your bottom lip between your teeth. You see that he loves the idea you've just planted in his brain, wanting to cover your nasty cunt in his cum so bad.

"Fucking whore," he says under his breath, jaw hanging open. His hands roam over your body, often groping your ass cheeks or sneaking under your crop top, touching the underside of your breasts.

You move your hips in circle motions as well, stimulating your sensitive clit with the head of his cock, so warm and pleasant against your pussy.

"Am I your favourite one, though?" You pout.

He grins, letting out a low chuckle, "Of course, and the only one." At that, a lewd moan escapes your mouth and you start humping Jimin's dick, wet pussy lips gliding over his erection. "Hmm, that's it, baby," he encourages, hands on your hips as you move more frantically over him, covering him in your slicks.

Your breath is irregular, chasing your high with fervour, moaning obscenely above Jimin. "Gonna cum," you announce hastily, the rub of your clit against his cock driving you over the edge really quickly. Plus, you were already turned on, so your orgasm isn't far away, the knot in your stomach unraveling.

"Go ahead, cum on my cock, baby girl," he softly commands as if his permission was the only thing you needed to finally see stars. He grips your hips as you open your mouth, silent whimpers and moans coming out.

"Yes, yes, Minnie," you chant as you hump his cock, thighs and hands shaking. Your clitoral orgasm passes through you, bucking your hips forward while you slowly drive off your high. "Fuck, fuck..." You cry, letting go of his member and hiding your face in the crook of his neck for comfort.

He gently caresses your back in circles, helping you calm down and come back to earth. "Good job," he coos in your ear. "What a big girl. Rubbing your pussy all over my cock and cumming without my help," Jimin praises, patting your ass that peeks out from under your short skirt.

You only whimper in response, coming back to reality. You push yourself off Jimin's chest, looking at him with a pout on your lips. He knows it's fake, just to persuade him to do whatever you're going to ask him.

"Put it in, please," you beg in a whiny voice, "Need your big cock in me, Jimin." You sweetly pamper his face in warm kisses, knowing he never resists them. "Please, please, please."

He sighs, feeling your lips pressing down on his smooth skin, leaving his face all red and damp from your teasing little kisses. He gropes your thighs, slapping one of them as you arch your back like a slut.

"Take it then," he growls, gripping his cock and directing the head toward your dripping entrance. "Show me how bad you want it, my stupid girl," he purrs in your ear, cock head swiping between your pussy lips.

You eagerly bob your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth as you look down where you slowly sink down Jimin's thick length. You gasp softly when the head of his cock stretches out your cunt, expending it to his large size.

You continue to sink further down, hearing the groans and moans of your boyfriend, gripping your hips and digging his fingers into your flesh. You love the familiar burning sensation, reminding you that his cock is pushing into you, connecting both of your bodies and souls.

When you're finally sitting on his lap, dick nestled in the comfort of your warmth, clit touching his pubes, it feels exhilarating, almost too good to be true. Despite having been in you so many times before, neither one of you are getting used to the incredible sensation of being so close to each other, so connected.

"So big, Jimin," you moan softly, slowly moving your hips back and forth, doing grinding motions. "Love it so much," you mewl, holding onto his shoulders.

He looks down, too, and sees a shiny dew coating his pubic hair, your arousal leaking down his balls and pelvis. It's beautiful, a strong odour of sex invading the interior of the car.

"Yeah, baby?" He questions, voice a little breathy. "Love having my cock in you? Splitting your tight little cunt open?" He now gropes your ass, liking how the two small globes of flesh fit in his calloused palms.

"Uh-huh," you agree and drag your hips up, cock slipping out of your wet pussy, his meaty length glistening in your sweet juices. You yank them back down, creating a new motion, bouncing up and down his stiff erection.

You ride his cock in his car, steering wheel sometimes knocking your back as you vividly jump on his dick, but it isn't a major bother to you, not at all. Nothing's more important to you now than to fuck Jimin and feel his cock deep into you.

"It's so thick," you babble out, mouth staying open as little moans escape you. It makes Jimin groan hearing you say how his girthy cock destroys your tiny pussy, seeing it with his own eyes, pussy enveloping his shaft.

He loves knowing you like a bit of pain, willing to go through it to after reach a high level of pleasure. "Cock whore," he grunts, smacking your ass, the skin stinging because of the rings adorning his fingers.

You keep bouncing on him, wanting to make this as pleasurable as possible for him, but you know your legs will soon be tired. Though, you don't give up, and ride Jimin like your life depends on it.

You sense his fingers dancing on your butt, reaching your tight hole under your skirt. It surprises you, a little high-pitched moan leaving your mouth, but you don't say no — never would you.

He teases your rim, deft fingers circling it, making you arch your back and lean into his warm touch. You start grinding over his lap again, desperate to reach your high and feel his cock head brushing against your sweet spot inside you.

Jimin pushes his thumb at your hole while you roll your hips over his with vigour, literally using him for your pleasure. He doesn't mind, though, and penetrates your other entrance with his finger. You let out a loud moan, always loving it when Jimin fills you up everywhere.

"Gosh, I'm so close, Minnie..." You announce, rutting your hips against his and crumpling his t-shirt between your small fists.

"Keep going, baby, keep going," he encourages, holding the fat of your hips and guiding them over his hard cock. "Cum for me, my sweet girl."

"Yes, yes," you chant, his dick repeatedly nudging your sensitive spot, making the knot in your stomach tighten. "For you... Gonna cum for you, Minnie," you say before finally feeling it explode in your belly, millions of tingles passing through your entire body.

Your thighs shake beside his, rolling your hips fast over his lap to drive off your intense high. With trembling limbs, you slowly lift up your butt, discovering his length coating in your milky and shiny release.

Jimin groans in satisfaction, staring at his dick with adoration in his eyes. He slaps your ass, praising you for your good job a second time.

"What about you clean that mess off, hm?" He proposes, raising his gaze up to your glossy eyes. You bite down on your lip, the idea eliciting another wave of arousal in you. "Gonna lick it off and make me cum with that pretty mouth of yours, baby?"

With a nod of your head, you get out of the car, stepping on the cement of the indoor parking lot. Jimin lets the driver's door open as he leans his back against the car, telling you to come over with a tilt of his head.

You kneel in front of him, your naked knees lying on the cold ground, thighs sticky with your cum and pussy completely bare, feeling the air hitting it. You grip his pants, looking up at him with puppy eyes, silently asking for permission to touch his pretty cock, shining in your natural essence.

"Lift up your top," he orders, holding his thick length in his right hand. You do so and it seems to satisfy Jimin, a little appreciative growl leaving his throat. "Perfect, you can touch it, baby," he sends you the green light and you happily comply.

You replace his hand with yours, your fingers barely wrapping all the way around the base. You stroke it gently, feeling your slick slipping between your fingers, and look up at Jimin, making sure you're doing this alright.

Jimin sees that you're seeking compliments, a smile tugging on his pretty, plump pink lips. "Doing great, princess. Don't be shy, put your tongue on it," he instructs, your head bobbing to show your agreement.

You stick out your pink muscle and lean down to put it on his swollen tip, swallowing his bulbous head in after. Your lips wrap around him, tasting yourself on your tongue.

You sat prettily on your knees, wearing your white sneakers as your little ass peeks out from underneath your jean skirt, taking more of his length into your greedy mouth. You scoot yourself closer, wanting the tip of your nose to touch the patch of dark hair crowning his pelvis.

Jimin moans above you, gripping your hair in a tight hold as you sink down on him. Your wish is granted, having the entirety of his cock in your mouth, his tip teasing the back of your throat.

"Fuck, play with your tits for me, baby," he breathily commands, hooded eyes staring down at you. You flutter your eyes at him, executing yourself and rolling your nipples under your palms. You much prefer it when it's Jimin's hands, but you'll do without them this time.

You pull your head back, him watching his cock reappear between your lips, then disappear when you sink back down. You pinch your nipples, making them even harder, the cold air turning them extra stiffer.

You bounce your head over his engorged cock, hearing him moan and groan, an erotic melody to your ears. You choke a bit around him, Jimin delighted to see spit dripping down from the corners of your mouth, greedily taking him in your warmth.

"That's it, baby. Shit, such a good girl for me," he moans, voice husky and sultry. "Make me cum with that slutty little mouth," he insists, lust dancing in his dark orbs, looking at you like you're the very own object of his deepest desires. And you are.

You hum around him, groping your breasts while sucking him off, his strong hand gripping your hair at the roots, making your scalp itch. It sends delicious vibrations through the entirety of Jimin's body, a shiver running up his spine as you take him deep into your throat.

You hollow your cheeks and swallow around his length like you know he loves, hearing his little moans of approval above you. "Christ, baby... Gonna cum, keep going," he warns you and you're pleased to know you're making him feel really good.

You flatten your tongue under his heavy cock, bobbing your head over his stiff erection, pulling and pinching on your hard nipples. Jimin doesn't look away from you once, so turned on by your little fingers playing with your tits and your kneeling form sucking him off.

Suddenly, he keeps your head in place over his cock, forcing you down on him, nose pressed down against his hairy pelvis. You look up at him with teary eyes, feeling them sting. A crease appears between his soft eyebrows, mouth opening as he looks out deep and soft moans.

Jimin cums down your throat, cock twitching and shooting his release in thick, long ropes inside your mouth. You whine around him, wiggling your ass, happy to finally taste him.

"Fuuck," he breathes out, the muscles of his thighs tensing. He pulls out quickly, stroking his cock fast, angling it down toward your naked boobs.

You gasp softly, swallowing thickly to ease your poor throat, feeling his hot and creamy cum landing on your chest. He milks himself dry, moaning as small white beads spurt out his tip and fall on your beautiful tits.

Jimin exhales heavily, his head lolling back on his shoulders. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, catching his breath. He holds his hand out for you to take and pull you up from the ground. He tucks himself back in his briefs and zips his jeans back up as you lean down to kiss him on the lips, giggling joyfully after.

Jimin helps you clean up the mess he made on you with the spare box of tissues he keeps in his car. You pull down your top, covering your breasts.

The vehicle beeps and the front lights flashes as he clicks twice on the button to lock the doors. You walk to the elevator hand in hand, ready to go back into Jimin's apartment with a cute afterglow shining on both your faces.

girl this cliffhanger has me 🫠 it was saur good tho fuck i love when jk gets all sweet but then completely switches up and starts being mean again 😮‍💨 u have me rereading this a few times now bae

careful | jjk

pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

word count | 2.2k

warning(s) | 18+ smut; dom!jk, sub!reader, dirty talk, mild dom/sub dynamics, orgasm control/edging, slight brat kink, slight brat tamer!jk, pet names, degradation kink, praise kink, mild dacryphilia, finger fucking, sub drop, pussy smacking, wet & messy

summary | you should always be careful what you ask for

notes | what's that - posting a fic that isn't any of my wips/requests? more likely than you think 🥲 i started writing today with the intent to work on my vampire jk fic cuz spooky season. instead, i found myself here... i'm sorry 💀 also i’ve seen enough run episodes to know you don’t want jk’s hands smacking you anywhere 😬

I follow/reply from @dirtychocolatechai

✨masterlist✨

“Look at me, baby.”

The low warning cuts through your muffled whines, Jungkook’s weight pinning you to the wall. Thick fingers grind deep inside your cunt, digging into your g-spot mercilessly.

Pressure builds behind your hips, borderline painful as you shift around in a vain attempt to dislodge him.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says, “You know better.”

Whenever Jungkook speaks, his voice scrapes down your spine, low and whiskey rough. His chest is a long line of heat, plastered to your front from stem to stern.

The rapid gallop of his heartbeat echoes your own rabbit-fast rhythm, the scent of his cologne clogging your nose and clouding your thoughts.

He bites out your name, the palm shackling your hands above your head squeezing your wrist. Blunt nails dig into the delicate skin of your pulse point. A silent prompt you know better than to ignore. And yet, the temptation to do so is almost too much.

Keen awareness roots low in your belly, dripping down between your thighs like candle wax. Your thighs tense with the strain of controlling the involuntary drop of your hips; the urge to rock down into his touch choking the breath from your lungs.

“I…”

The instinct to comply is almost Pavlovian. After all, you’re Jungkook’s good girl, aren’t you? Loved and fucked and trained to his liking.

(But how can you be good when he looks at you like that? It’s just not fair.)

Being good all the time is boring.

No. Your mouth snaps shut, and any response you have turns to ash on your tongue. The words catch on the backs of your teeth like candy. Not this time.

“Why are you being like this, huh?” Jungkook’s brows shoot towards his hairline, his dark head ducking to try and catch your eye. “I know I taught you better.”

How could you ever forget the rules when he’s fucked them into you so thoroughly? Took you apart piece by piece only to stitch you back together in his image - his precious little darling made to take his cock and swallow his cum.

“You really don’t wanna play this game with me right now. Trust me.”

Breath lodging somewhere in the middle of your throat, and tasting suspiciously of regret, you shake your head and dig your heels in. Resist the urge to crumble at his feet, beg for forgiveness with your mouth, your hands.

It’s already too late to back out - it’ll just be worse for you if you do.

Jungkook might hide his less… savory traits better than most, but you’ve experienced his greedy kisses firsthand, felt the tug of his teeth and tasted the salt of his skin. Heard his ragged moans honey sweet in your ear, felt the harsh grind of his body along yours.

When he smiles, it’s wicked, "Last chance. Show me those pretty eyes of yours, baby.”

Anticipation hooks behind your navel, stomach swooping as heat curls up in the valley of your hips. Blood rushes in your ears, starting as a slow thrum that crescendos into a rapid drum. Your heart tattoos itself into your ribs.

Licking your lips, your refusal shudders from you in a throaty rush, “No.”

A low hum fills the following silence, noncommittal. The mounting tension threatens to strangle you, sets your teeth on edge. Sparse hairs at the nape of your neck prickle.

And then, before you have time to consider taking it all back, plush lips ghost over the hollow below your ear. Whisps of dark hair whisper over your skin, soft and ticklish. Shivers race down your spine, spread through your fingers and toes.

“Alright, have it your way,” Jungkook smothers his words in the tender slope of your neck, “but remember: you asked for it. Don’t come crying to me afterward.”

Readjusting, Jungkook’s broad shoulders curve forward and the slackened hand on your wrists renews its grip. The cold tip of his nose traces along your jaw, inhaling the perfume of your silken skin.

An exhale shudders from him in a vulgar husk of breath. When you clench around his fingers still buried inside you, he laughs low and mocking.

“Damn, baby, your pussy’s just sucking me in. You really wanna cum that bad?” Kisses pepper up the side of your face, skirting the side of your mouth. “Heh, yeah, I know you do - such a dirty little slut.”

“Oh!” You sigh, sparks sizzling through your limbs, as Jungkook flexes his fingertips playfully against your swollen g-spot. Your hips tilt into the touch. “Hah…”

“That feel good, huh?”

A low keen escapes when he draws your earlobe into the moist heat of his mouth, his lips clamping down while the sharp points of his canines roll the tender fat. Little kisses of pain burn, brighten the arousal blooming deep within you.

“Yeah, of course it does,” Jungkook breathes, his voice low and husky in your ear as he strokes at your fluttering walls. “Just look at you.”

Unable to swallow the broken gasp of his name when he hits your favourite spot at the right angle, you tremble against his chest from where you’re pinned and squeeze your eyes shut, “J-Jung--!”

Holding up your own weight on weak knees is an endurance sport - one you’re losing as they bow and shake, threaten to give out. At the same time, your arms feel like lead, going numb from having them suspended over your head for so long.

Head light and floaty, your nails bite into the backs of his hands as a sharp spike of pleasure slices through you. “I’m--”

“Gonna cum soon?” Jungkook asks, the devilish grin tugging at the corners of his sculpted mouth more a baring of teeth. “Don’t lie to me.”

At your frantic nod, he tugs his fingers free from the tight clutch of your body with a sloppy squelch. Slick oozes from your cunt in a sticky rush that wets your inner thighs, your gut clenching hard with hollow satisfaction as he rips the ebbing flow of your orgasm away without warning.

“Shit!” 

The noise you make at their loss is low and wounded, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. Your body locks up so hard your stomach aches, walls fluttering as a cramp knots up behind your hips. Your swollen clit throbs with angry sparks of pain that make you whine and wince, orgasm thoroughly ruined.

“W-Why did you…” Voice cracking around a hiccupping sob, you pitch forward into his powerful chest. “Jungkook--”

“You know why.” His reply cuts you off, chilly and brusque, while he stares at you without remorse, “I gave you a chance to change your mind.”

“But I -”

“Stop.”

Sniffling, you peer at him from beneath damp lashes.

Breathless and feral, Jungkook stands before you a vengeful god, robed in shade and shadow. It’s criminally unfair how good he looks; jaw clenched, eyes twin black holes that threaten to pull you in.

Harsh, hooded, hungry as they trace over the tear tracks cutting lines down your cheeks, the quiver of your lips. In moments like this, he’s as beautiful as Belladonna and twice as deadly.

“I don’t know why you’re even trying to sweet talk your way out of this.” 

If his glare alone wasn’t enough to curb your tongue, then the shuttered expression carved into the planes of his regal face would.

Displeasure sits heavy on his brow, tucked into the corners of his mouth like an ill-fitting mask. Then his hand is slipping between your shaking thighs once more, the backs of his knuckles dragging over your abused, messy folds.

Jungkook hums when you sigh, jolt at the touch, and says, “Now, shut up and be a good girl for me.”

It’s deliciously painful, like blowing on numb fingertips in winter. Your legs spread wider to accommodate him on instinct alone. Head rolling back to rest against the wall, the cool stone heaven on your sweaty neck.

And then a strike, viper quick, lands on your exposed pussy. Your reprieve ripped away and smashed at your feet as the wet, sloppy sound of an open palm making contact with tender flesh almost drowns out your wounded cry.

“A-Ah!”

You flinch away from the touch, flickers of pain pulsing through your sensitive clit. Nerve endings burn with sensation. Tiny cavities pepper your field of vision, the world a blurry kaleidoscope of color through pooling tears.

It’s hard to think, harder to breathe through the lingering throb and mounting shock.

Jungkook didn’t hit you too hard (he knows your limits), though he may as well have with how hypersensitive your pussy is. And still, amid prickles of pain, fresh arousal gushes from you to soak the length of his palm.

Cooing, he says your name, his lips cradling the syllables like a precious secret as his hand rubs circles over your mound. “Are you finally going to listen to me?”

Air hisses through your teeth as his fingers dip into your entrance, and it’s all suddenly too much. You drop too far, too fast. Lost and left adrift. Small. Fragile. Heart lurching in your chest, the bitter ache throbbing in time with your pulse. Reminding you of how empty you are.

Sobs drip from your lips like dew drops, unintelligible words frantic as they break through the great, heaving gasps, “J-Jungkook, I can’t… Please, ‘m sorr- I can’t.”

“Oh, baby. You look so pretty when you’re such a fucking mess.”

Your breath hitches.

It feels like your skin’s too small, stretched tight over your bones until you’re bursting at the seams. The slightest touch will make you shatter to pieces, scattered across the floor like shards of fine china. 

Before you spiral too far beyond his reach, Jungkook guides you back, keeping his voice low and gentle in your ear while he shushes your warbling sniffles. Affection softens his smile, his eyes dark with perverse pride.

“Stop crying,” he chides tenderly, circling your clit with a ginger thumb. “You’re fine, promise. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Kisses wick away the last of your tears, sweep over the delicate skin of your undereye.

“You did this to yourself.” Jungkook searches your eyes for confirmation, his brows furrowed and lips pursed. “You know that, don’t you?”

You nod, albeit stiltedly.

There are always consequences when you try to give him a taste of his own medicine - some worse than others. This time, you took things a little too far.

Now your cunt’s going to suffer the consequences of your stubbornness, but maybe if you butter him up beforehand…

The bob of his Adam’s apple captures your attention, your eyes tracing over the slope of his jaw, the tick of muscle as he grits his teeth.

Gnawing on your lip, you weigh your options.

You both know you hoped this would happen when you started acting bratty. Jungkook knows your dirty thoughts and filthy fantasies, how soaked you get from the thought of being pinned down, helpless. Forced to take everything he gives.

… It isn’t even a question worth asking.

“Didn’t catch that.” Jungkook’s lips twitch with amusement, his fingers biting into the soft fat of your hip. “Come on, you’ve gotta use your words.”

The despair gripping your throat in a vice loosens with his lighthearted tone. Wetting your lips, you take the first step towards sparring yourself a brutal punishment by apologizing.

“I know it’s my fault - and I,” you swallow the flood of saliva pooling under your tongue, “I’m sorry.” 

"Mm, apology accepted." Jungkook hums, tracing the seam of your puffy pussy. “I’m so lucky I’ve got such a good fucking girl all to myself.”

Heat sinks into the apples of your cheeks, your thighs clamping closed around his wrist. There’s no denying the needy twitch of your hips at his words. A pleased rumble vibrates through his chest and into yours.

“Yeah, you like when I call you a good girl, baby?”

You whine, your eyes rolling back and your lashes fluttering.

Heat pulses through your belly in rhythmic waves, the residual pleasure from your interrupted orgasm kindling to light with little effort. You’d been so close, your body still desperate for relief. Thoughts slow and syrupy, cunt soaked and sloppy.

“Jungkook, please - lemme cum.” You try to rock down on his fingers only for his hand to restrain your hips. ”Fuck! Promise I’ll be good this time - jus’ need to…”

He tsks, saying, “Shh, you can cum all you want.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank-”

“If,” his smile is knife sharp, his eyes full of mischief, his words honey sweet, “you keep your eyes open and on me the whole time.”

Oh.

Oh no.

You’ll be dumb and drooling, starry-eyed and stupid once he stuffs you full. The burning stretch of his fat cock buried balls deep in your gummy walls while the spongy head slams into your g-spot without mercy, your cunt milking his shaft with every gushing orgasm fucked out of you. His name a holy prayer on your tongue.

There’s no fucking way.

Jungkook knows you barely remember to breathe once he’s on top of you, let alone maintain eye contact. Your inevitable failure will taste all the sweeter when it fizzles, pops, bursts under the bite of his teeth.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

“Good luck, baby.”

Panic grips you by the throat, your eyes wide and pleading. “Jungkook-”

“You’re gonna need it.”

Well, shit.

this fic got me rethinking my thoughts about never getting back w ur ex fr 💀💀 yoongi has me so soft like damn he rlly still loves her after all this time! in my mind they get back together and live happily ever after as they should 🤭

the pink pill | myg version (m) — “no one else”

➥ banner by @jkndigo.

➥ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ porn with plot ⋆ exes

➥ CATEGORY: one-shot [part of the pink pill series]

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, angst, exes but also idiots, degradation kink, unprotected sex (dont be like them), rough sex but also love-making??, did i mention a bit of angst, multiple positions guys yoongi is catching up for missing u all those times likeee, spankingggg, making out w tongue, overstimulation, claiming/possessiveness, multiple orgasms for reader, extremelyhorny!reader, cocky exboyfriend!yoongi…. yeah., hes a sick son of a bitch but thats why we like him besides he’s pretty tame in this i have worse yoongi’s up my sleeve this is nothin, neither of you have moved on, mutual pining but mutual STUBBORNNESSSSS for fucks sake, filthy words, creampie, oral sex (f. rec), embarrassingly quick climaxes likeee, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 9.8k

a/n: and at last, yoongi’s ver of the pink pill is finally out!!! thank you for loving jk’s version! i hope you enjoy yoongi’s. beware of a bit of angst and complicated feelings<33

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

Your trembling thumb hovers over the blue arrow next to your unsent message, eyes scanning over the message over and over again. Your heart might implode in your chest the moment you hit send, which is why you’ve been staring at the message that would cause more cons than pros for the past 5 minutes.

Well, would it, though? It’s just a favor. You need a favor.

It’s like your brain is talking directly to your heart. Your brain is telling you how bad of an idea this is whilst your heart is just rolling its non-existent eyes at the nagging, as if your heart isn’t about to slide up your airways into your esophagus, travel straight up your burning throat and launch out of your mouth. You need to calm down.

The aggravating lump in your throat doesn’t let up.

And that’s when the pad of your thumb impulsively hits the damn blue arrow that’s been mockingly staring at you for the past few minutes.

[11:12PM]

from: You

to: Ignore

can you come over

Once the small letters that say ‘delivered’ pop up under your blue message, you internally scream into the void. Your eyes stay glued to your phone, the back of your phone is becoming slimy in your grasp due to the sweat your palms are rapidly producing.

You barely blink as you stare at the screen, your lips twitching as you wait and attempt to ignore the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

Your gaze slowly shifts upwards on the conversation, rereading old messages. The last you heard from him was 4 months ago. The two of you broke up around 9 months ago but still slept together for a good 2-3 months after.

The last message between you two from 4 months ago was you asking him when he could come pick up the rest of his shit. He came, picked up his shit and that’s when you last saw him. You barely exchanged any words. You had anticipated having sex one last time but he just wordlessly collected his stuff and left.

So, it’s understandable why you’d be so worried about asking him to come over and… well, ask him if he can fuck the shit out of you.

Your heart plummets into the pit of the earth when you notice the ‘delivered’ has turned into ‘read 11:13PM’.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

He’s not responding.

Why is he not responding?

One minute passes. Two minutes pass. Three minutes. Four.

You’ve been staring at your phone the entire time and not once did the bubble that indicates he’s typing pop up.

What if he doesn’t even want to talk to you?

Fuck.

What the fuck were you even thinking?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After cleaning up the coffee table that was covered in snacks and empty cans that you used to take your mind off the excruciating arousal pooling in your core, you start heading into your once-shared bedroom with your head held down. It’s been 12 minutes since you sent that message and you haven’t gotten a response.

You’re a damn loser.

You plan to start slipping out of your plain shirt and shorts, cringing when you realize you’ve completely soaked through your cotton shorts. How fucking embarrassing. What the hell is in that pill?

Right as your fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts to pull them down your legs, you hear a rhythmic knock on your front door.

What? Who could…

Wait.

It possibly couldn’t be.

The lump returns to your throat at lightning speed as you start heading down your corridor, sluggishly dragging your feet across the floor.

You press your hand flat against the door in an attempt to gather your thoughts and collect your breath before you slowly start opening up, his familiar feline eyes staring at you with an agitated look pooling in them.

“What do you want?” He doesn’t even have the decency to greet you, he just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You quietly swallow as you cross your arms over your chest, stepping to the side to wordlessly invite him in. When he gives you a raised eyebrow in confusion, you say, “I don’t need my neighbors hearing my business.”

The exasperated sigh he lets out slightly stings but he walks in nonetheless. You close the door behind him but he’s showing no intentions or moves to take his shoes off. He just stands in front of the door, annoyance draped over his features.

You silently stare up at him, hoping he doesn’t notice your strange demeanor.

“So? Are you gonna tell me what you want or are you just gonna stare at me and continue to waste my time?” His words are blunt and brutal—the bitterness that he still holds in his heart for you hasn’t left him, it seems.

You finally find the courage to speak up and quietly say, “I need a favor, Yoongi.”

He blankly stares at you for a few moments before he humorlessly laughs at your request, dropping his head and shaking his head in disbelief.

You can’t help but glare at his reaction, fighting the urge to roll your eyes and spew insulting words at him. This is kind of selfish of you.

“Why would I do you a favor?” he asks once he’s stopped laughing, staring you down with hooded eyelids and no traces of mock amusement left on his face.

“I’ll owe you,” you say, failing to hide the clear annoyance in your tone. You want to strangle him.

“You already owe me.” His response is almost immediate, leaving you speechless for a few seconds as you stare up at him with a frown etched onto your brows.

“Excuse me? What the fuck do I owe you?”

He tilts his head to the side with an irritated look on his face before he says, “I don’t know, you wasted 3 years of my fucking life?”

You exaggeratedly roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head in exasperation. “I could quite literally say the same to you.”

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his intense stare down never letting up.

He decides to ignore your remark and repeats, “What do you want, Y/N?”

You swallow again, looking to the side to avoid his penetrating gaze as you think about how the fuck you’re going to ask him what you want to ask him.

How do you even begin to ask?

Hey, you haven’t heard from me in months but could you fuck me real quick?

“What? Do you need money?” he asks in a neutral tone, although you can sense the concern tinged in his words.

“No,” you mumble, the collar of your shirt is starting to feel like it’s closing in around the perimeter of your neck with the goal of suffocating you.

He continues, “Then what? An alibi?”

You throw your head back in exasperation as you groan, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It’s quiet for a moment and it makes you look at him. You notice he’s staring straight at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on and what you aren’t telling him.

“Need some lovin’?” he asks with a certain humorous tone, the joke causing you to glance up at him through your lashes with big eyes.

It seems like only then that he takes notice of your swollen lips, your dilated pupils, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead and the quickened breathing with the way his eyes scan your entire face and the frown on his brows slowly disappearing when the realization dawns on him.

He narrows his eyes at you and his hands leave his pockets, swiftly moving to cross over his chest as his lips twitch, something you can only describe as him trying to stifle a smirk. “You actually asked me to come over so I could come fuck you?”

Your mind travels at incomprehensible speed to come up with an answer, leaving you scrambled and almost stuttering. You blurt out, “It’s your fault.”

This makes his brows pinch together in utter confusion. “How the hell is it my fault?”

A deep sigh pushes past your lips as you drop your arms from your chest, hands resting on your hips as you look at the floor in shame. “I was cleaning shit up and I came across that dumb pink pill you bought that you wanted me to try but never got the chance to,” you explain, peeking up at him through your lashes momentarily before averting your gaze again.

“Pill? What pink pill?” he repeats, the frown on his face deepening further as the word leaves his mouth.

“Yes, that stupid pink pussycat pill, Yoongi. We bought it as a joke to try on our anniversary but then we had that stupid fight.” You try to get him to recall the events of a year ago, the quick wince on his face at the mention of your anniversary fight doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Anyway, I didn’t want it to go to waste and I was wondering what it might feel like or if it even works. So, I took it earlier today, for shits and giggles.”

He slowly nods to your words as the memories come back to him, seemingly remembering how excited he was for you to take that pill. “So, I reckon the pill is doing what it said it would?”

You merely grunt in response.

He’s silent for a few seconds before quietly chuckling, shaking his head. His chuckle is so deep and sultry, it shoots a tingle right down your soaked panties.

You huff, “What’s so amusing, you dickhead?”

He glances at you through his brows for a moment before averting his gaze, his eyes roaming his surroundings as he looks around your once-shared home. “I’m just flattered, is all.”

“Flattered?” you repeat, a disapproving frown on your features. He’s turning this entire thing into a compliment for himself.

You really can’t fucking stand him.

“You could’ve flaunted that pretty face out at some bar and gotten someone to fuck you without needing to offer any favors,” he explains, giving you a glimpse of his thought process, those words making your body heat up all over again.

Damn him.

You know Yoongi has always found you insanely attractive but him so nonchalantly reminding you has set your insides aflame.

“You know I don’t do that stuff,” you mumble with a shake to your head.

His bitter, humorless chuckle booms in your ears. Why does it sound like he’s literally inside your head? “That’s exactly how we met, you dirty liar.” He reminds you of how his hips were slamming into yours an hour after you met him and no rebuttal comes to your mind.

You silently stare at him, bringing your hand up to wipe some of the sweat off your hairline with the back of your index finger.

“Yeah, you know what? I don’t know why I even texted you. You can leave,” you say, a surge of anger coursing through your veins as you reach for the door handle but Yoongi is quicker than you.

His hand quickly reaches for yours, fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist. “I can tell you why you did,” he quips, cockily.

You glare up at him but make no effort to remove his hand from your skin, the single touch of his skin against yours sends lava down all your veins and every single one of your nerve-endings. Fuck, you wish you could pounce him right fucking now. You finally gather your thoughts and say, “Oh, please, do enlighten me.”

“You asked me here because you don’t want all that arousal to go to waste on someone that doesn’t know your body like I do.” He starts closing the gap between you two, face closing in on yours. “They won’t do the things you like.”

Your throat tightens at his proximity and his words, your lungs seconds away from imploding in between your ribcage.

“And you’re too shy to tell them because you know you like filthy things.” He moves his other hand up to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his index finger, his eyes glued to how his finger glides down your skin.

If he noticed his touch instantly awoke the goosebumps on your skin, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to play with your ear, fingers coming down to rub your earlobe in between the pads of his thumb and index finger.

“No one knows your body like I do, no one else.” He drops his hand from your ear to trace the collar of your shirt, the tip of his finger occasionally grazing your neck. “No one knows how filthy you are. How needy you are. How you like to be touched and kissed. That’s how I know,” he concludes.

He adds, “You clearly haven’t moved on.”

He was doing so well, too.

Haven’t moved on? Son of a bitch.

“Yeah, well, what about you?” you blurt out. You watch as his thick eyebrows scrunch together in smug mockery.

“What about me? Don’t turn this on me, sweetheart. You’re the one asking me to come fuck you.” He starts to take off his shoes, kicking them aside like he used to do.

Cocky asshole.

“You showed up 10 minutes after a simple ‘come over’ text, no questions asked.” You remind him of tonight’s events and his face slowly turns into a scowl, his usual quick witty comebacks suddenly nonexistent.

“So what?” he mumbles, not in the mood to fight you for this any longer because he knows he’ll lose.

“Just admit you want this as bad as I do instead of being smart about it,” you say, rolling your eyes as you take a step back to create some more distance between you two. You hadn’t realized he’d gotten that close.

He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I wouldn’t say as bad as you.”

Right, because you took that pill and your arousal is off the charts.

He must think he’s sooooooo funny.

“You’re a lia–”

Before you can even finish speaking, he takes a step closer and it inevitably traps you in between his body and the wall behind you. He arrogantly adds, “Want me to push my fingers into your panties and check?”

Fuck.

He shouldn’t still have the ability to knock the oxygen right out of your lungs with just silly words. He shouldn’t.

You stare up at him with a furrow in your brows, eyes wide and lips almost quivering, simply at the thought of him touching you. Damn him.

And he knows.

Because his gaze drops to your lips before back to your eyes, the corners of his own lips curling up at something he’s thinking about.

“What?” you grumble, your voice barely coming out and leaving you for dead in your time of need.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and adds a shrug to his shoulders for extra nonchalance. “I just think after you ran your mouth like this, it’d be more fun to make you beg for it.”

Your hands come up to his chest, pressing flat against him to push him back but he doesn’t budge an inch because there’s no real strength behind the push and he knows it.

“I hate you,” you quietly say, hands still pressed up against his chest with the tiniest bit of pressure to make it seem like you don’t want him.

Unfortunately, Yoongi knows you too well.

“That’s fine, as long as you’re good to me.” The words leave his mouth in a breathy chuckle that drapes over your lips as his face closes in on yours, plump lips grazing the skin of your jaw. “You were always so good to me.”

“Why did you leave me, then?” Your voice comes out a bit choked, a big gulp following your question and it’s almost like you’re attempting to swallow the words back down. You can’t believe you just blurted that out. Is one of the side effects of that dumb pink pill being emotional as hell?

He freezes for a few seconds before pulling away and searching for your eyes. His expression is decorated by a frown and his pretty lips are pressed into a thin line.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets the deafening silence settle around you. Stares at you as if one of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries is being revealed to him and the answer is in your irises. Watches as you idly blink at him and it makes his lips twitch. Seems to be in deep thought and you can’t figure out what’s going through his mind for the life of you.

Then, he speaks.

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

His words paired with his intense gaze sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving your legs to wobble like they’re made of jelly.

You both stare at each other for a while in complete silence. His familiar, black, feline eyes staring into yours so intimately summon a vine that wraps around your heart, digging its sharp thorns into your most beloved organ until it bleeds out all over your insides.

He’s right.

You clearly haven’t moved on.

“Let’s just,” you pause and shake your head free of those thoughts. You don’t bother to finish your sentence as you wrap your fingers around his wrist, leading him toward your once-shared bedroom and he simply lets you.

As soon as you walk in, you let go of his hand and reach for the hem of your shirt. You yank it off your body without a second of hesitation before tossing it somewhere on the floor and it makes him chuckle for some reason.

You turn to glare at him. “Something funny?” you snark, arms crossing over your chest like a child that wanted the purple lollipop instead of the yellow one.

He stares at you from the entrance of your room, an amused smile still on his pretty lips. His eyes scan the walls and the furniture as he slowly makes his way in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I see that you’ve changed the entire room.”

Your eyes follow the direction of his gaze, scanning around the room as if you’d forgotten what you changed about the place. “Yeah.”

He struts toward you, getting so close that he’s practically pressed up against you. His onyx eyes stare you down, one of his infamous unreadable expressions plastered on his face. “Trying to act like I never existed?” he asks, hands still buried in his pockets and fuck, how you wish he would just give in and touch you.

You simply blink up at him, your eyes pingpong-ing between his eyes from left to right continuously as you try to think of a way to answer.

Should you lie? Should you just be honest?

As if on cue, your question is answered when he lazily places his right hand on your hip, pulling you even closer to him.

Be honest.

“No.” You shake your head slightly, never breaking eye contact with the enticing man in front of you. “I was never going to forget about you if everywhere I looked just reminded me of you.”

His hand tenses on your hip, a muscle in his jaw tenses up and your eyes are just in time to catch the way his Adam’s apple bounces up and down.

You shift your eyes back up to his, blinking your eyelids at him so innocently yet so full of temptation. He slowly starts nodding his head as if he just had an epiphany and then moves his hand from your hip to your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, thumb rubbing circles onto your bare skin.

You shrug your shoulders smugly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He doesn’t need anything else. His lips are on top of yours the moment the words leave your mouth, teeth clashing at how quickly he lunges at you.

His mouth devours you like a man starved as his other hand grips the back of your head to keep you in his grasp, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

Several soft moans resound in your throat that he simply swallows, hand balling into a fist on the back of your head, gripping your hair at the root.

You mewl, your hands coming up to squeeze his biceps as you try to grind your hips into his. Fuck, you’re like a fucking animal in heat.

“Fuck, I’m barely touching you and you’re this needy,” he whispers against your open mouth before shoving his tongue back in.

Your insides are set ablaze when he starts pushing you backwards with his own body until your calves hit the mattress and automatically makes you fall backwards, dropping onto your bed.

He wastes no time climbing on top of you, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down the column of your throat to the strap of your bra as he gently starts tugging them off your shoulders.

You automatically arch your back off the mattress, encouraging him to unclasp your bra and he does.

Whilst he unclasps your bra, he coats your collarbones in soft kisses and absentmindedly throws your bra to the side as he brings his hand back up to fondle your breast in his large hand.

“Fuck,” you whisper, every single inch of his touch electrifies your body and sets your soul alight. Damn, you’ve missed this.

His thumb gently teases your erect nipple, rolling it around whilst he continues to nibble on the skin of your neck.

Your hips involuntarily buck upwards into nothing and you almost flinch at the way his breath grazes your neck when Yoongi softly chuckles, clearly finding your extreme level of arousal amusing.

“Can you just stop teasing me?” you whine, legs spreading wider and wider without a second thought.

“You’re gonna have to ask a lot nicer if you want me to do that, sugar.” He lifts his head off your shoulder and closes in on your other breast, wrapping his lips around it whilst his hand slowly travels down your stomach to your clothed sex. He starts sucking on your nipple and the effects of that pill makes it so it feels like he’s touching you all over, on every part of your body, on every inch of your skin, causing you to squirm and moan under him like a fish out of water.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, “I should’ve made you take that pill so fucking long ago. Look at you.”

You simply grumble, “Fuck you.”

He lifts his head off your breast to stare at you directly in the eyes and you instantly regret running your mouth. “Yoongi, I just want–”

Smack!

“Ow!” you cry out, the warmth of the slap on your pussy spreading through your skin like wildfire. You instantly whimper, “I’m sorry.”

The apology means nothing to him, though.

He shakes his head. “Always running that fucking mouth of yours.” His fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts and he slides them down your legs before tossing them aside like he has personal beef with the article of clothing.

“Holy shit,” he whispers as he glances at the massive wet patch on your panties and all the slick smeared around your inner thighs, eyes practically bulging out of his eye sockets.

You can’t help but frown, though. “What?”

“No wonder,” he says, seemingly answering his own unspoken question. “You are completely soaked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking horny.”

You whine, tucking your thumbs under the hem of your panties to drag them down your legs and he doesn’t even try to stop you, just simply stares at you in awe but your panties don’t budge an inch when you stop and decide to just give in, in hopes he’ll fall for your tricks.

“Please, just,” you yelp, “fuck me. Please. I think I’ll die if you don’t.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, his gorgeous neck on full display for you. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yoongi,” you pause, “I’m so fucking serious. I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day. I need you to. Please.”

He searches your face and seemingly takes note of the desperation and earnestness in your eyes. Shortly after, he drags his gaze down your exposed body, simply staring at your naked figure.

Sprawled out on your bed, lips swollen, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, pupils dilated, breasts bare with nipples standing at attention and your arousal that has already started dripping onto your sheets.

He slowly starts to nod his head and in the blink of an eye, he yanks his own shirt off.

The view of his bare chest brings back so many memories, all the times he fucked you good come rushing back to you and it isn’t fucking helping your case.

A persistent lump forms in your throat that refuses to disappear but that’s when you realize that it’s not just a lump but words. The words ‘I miss you’ are forcing their way to the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill.

But you absolutely refuse to let that happen.

Just bite your tongue.

“All day, huh?” he muses, talking more to himself. He quickly ditches his sweatpants in the meantime and tosses them off the bed. “What took you so long to text me?”

You silently watch as he crawls back over to you in just his black boxers, settling right next to your body and supporting his own weight with his elbow while his other hand returns to your panties. Teasingly plays with the hem. Presses his lips against your neck. Inhales your scent.

You stay quiet for a few moments, eyes shut tightly at the tip of his fingers brushing against your pelvis. So close yet so far. “My pride,” you finally reply.

He simply chuckles at your words and slowly tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties, groaning when the back of his knuckles brush against the sticky patch of your arousal on the inside of your panties. “I don’t think I’ve seen this amount of wetness. Not even in porn.”

His skin finally makes contact with your sex, running right up your wet slit and collecting all of your arousal on the tip of his finger. “Holy fucking shit, Y/N.”

You mewl, hips already thrusting up into his hand but he simply uses his palm to press down on your pelvis.

“Stay still.” The demand makes your insides twist into a wringed out shirt and makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“I can’t,” you whimper, legs shaking at the simple touch of his fingers smearing your arousal all over your sex. “I’m trying to but I can’t.”

It’s like you have no control over your body whatsoever. You just want to be fucked.

“Why can’t you?” he quips as he plunges two fingers right into you, groaning when your slick walls tightly hug his fingers. He already knows, he just likes to push your buttons.

“Because I want you,” you breathe out, moaning at the sensation of his fingers slowly pumping into you. Your sensitivity is off the fucking charts, just his fingers being buried in your pussy without any movement whatsoever could have you cumming in no time.

“I can tell,” he cockily chuckles. His sultry laugh is so full of mockery, the type that would usually piss you the fuck off but in this moment turns you the fuck on. “I just need to prep you, baby. Can’t be hurting you simply because you’re writhing like an animal in heat.”

You quickly shake your head. “I don’t need any fucking prep,” you moan as his hand picks up in pace. “Please, just fuck me. I’m already wetter than I’ve ever been. You literally just said it yourself.”

He lifts his head off your collarbones and searches your eyes for a moment, a stern frown on his brows. “Are you sure?”

Yoongi’s always been into manhandling you and being rough but only when it’s pleasurable for you. He’d usually go down on you or work you towards an orgasm using just his fingers, in hopes it’d have you ready to take him.

So, no, he’s not used to just jumping in and fucking you.

You quickly nod your head. “Never been more sure.”

He stares at you for a moment longer but the sincerity in your eyes is prominent. He then simply spreads your folds with his sticky fingers, smearing your arousal all over your sex before pulling his fingers out of your pussy, the sounds leaving your sex almost embarrassing you.

He slides his hand out of your panties and glances at his hand, eyes scanning his fingers coated in your pussy slick.

“Fuck, look at that,” he whispers but doesn’t even grant you the time to look when he immediately shoves his fingers into his mouth, sucking all your arousal off his digits.

“Yoongi,” you whine, clenching around nothing as you watch him.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “It’s been too long. I’m gonna need to eat that.”

You want to protest but he’s already pulling you toward him by your thighs, settling in between them as he’s now face to face with your covered panties.

“I want to be fucked,” you whine, staring down at him between your legs but his eyes are just focused on your panties.

He replies, “And I want to fucking eat you out so you’re gonna have to be patient, you little brat.”

You don’t have the time to whine any more when he pushes your panties to the side and the single action could have you coming undone, right here, right now.

He idly stares at your glistening pussy like he’s Monkey D. fucking Luffy and he found the One Piece after years of venturing the seas.

“Why are you staring like that?” you quietly ask, unfortunately not possessing enough strength to close your thighs out of self-consciousness.

With a simple shake of his head, his face closes in on your sex and he licks a long stripe up your pussy, collecting a great amount of your arousal in a single swipe of his hungry tongue.

But you’re oozing so much wetness that he simply keeps going, licking all around your sex before focusing on your swollen, angry clit. He wraps his lips around your sensitive pleasure nub and starts sucking, coating his entire chin in your juices.

“Fuck!” you cry, reaching over to pull on his roots, fingers tangled in his soft black locks.

The sensitivity you’re experiencing is too much. “I’m gonna fucking cum, Yoongi.” You’re not even joking.

“Already?” he hums in mockery before wrapping his lips around your clit again and sucks some more with no regard of overstimulating you.

You quickly nod your head and within the next few seconds, you’re cumming all over his tongue and around his mouth. A cry tips through your throat and you’re sobbing at this point, pulling so hard on his roots that it causes him to hiss in pain.

Grinding your hips up into his face, into his nose, into his mouth. You can’t believe how quickly that stupid pink pill has you levitating off the bed, it’s like you don’t even belong on Earth anymore.

The orgasm hits you like none ever before, leaving you even more sensitive. You came within barely, what? A minute of stimulation? Two? Oh, you’re so done for.

You push against Yoongi’s head in hopes he’ll stop and he does—after giving your swollen clit one last slurp.

“Holy shit.” You can’t believe that just happened.

“That was really fast. What was that? A minute? A minute and 30 seconds?” he laughs as he sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s that fucking pill,” you mumble defensively, trying to catch your breath.

A low chuckle leaves his mouth before he glances down at the bulge in his boxers. “Well,” he pauses, “you should take that pill more often.”

You roll your eyes with all the brattiness you can muster, hoping it annoys him as much as he annoys you. “This is the last time I’m even letting you in here, I hope you know that.”

His eyes shift back up to yours and he tilts his head to the side in question, blinking at you with a glimmer in his eyes that you can’t quite describe.

You stare back, trying your best not to look fucked out right now but you know you’re failing horribly at it when he simply shakes his head and lets out a bitter chuckle.

“You just wanted to use me one last time, hm?” he scoffs as his fingers tuck under the hem of his boxers, sliding them down his thighs and tossing them off the bed.

A surge of guilt spreads through your chest when you realize how that must’ve sounded to him. “You know that’s not what I meant, Yoongi.”

“No?” he muses, placing his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them all the way against the mattress on each side of your body. You know your body isn’t supposed to be able to do this, apparent by the strain in your inner thighs but for some reason, it doesn’t bother you as much.

“No,” you whimper as he uses his own weight to keep your thighs spread, sliding his rock hard dick in between your folds handsfree, but not entering you just yet. It has you squeezing your eyelids shut, trying to focus on the feeling of his rock hard cock—all the ridges and veins on his dick—rubbing so good against your swollen clit.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, watching as you squirm from the slightest bit of friction that he has full control over. It makes you want to smack that grin right off his face.

“I swear,” you sniff, not even being able to thrust your hips up for more friction because Yoongi’s weight and strength keeps you restrained.

He simply hums in response, continuing to slide his dick over your slit, completely coating his shaft in your slick. “If you want me to believe you,” he pauses as his eyes shift up to yours, “you’re going to have to beg and convince me. Tell me how what you just said isn’t true.”

“Please,” you say, no hesitation. “Please, I didn’t mean that. I–just fuck me. I swear I don’t want anyone else to be in your position right now, I only want you. No one else knows me like you, no one.”

He continues to simply watch your face twist in borderline agony from the lack of friction, the sensation you so desperately crave.

“That so?” His tone is filled with so much arrogance that it makes your veins burn with lava.

You merely hum in response and finally crack your eyelids open, just to see him staring into your eyes with that familiar glint in his. Fuck.

“Ready?” he whispers, lining his tip up with your hole and cockily chuckles when you eagerly nod your head.

He abruptly freezes. “Ah, fuck, wait.” His dick is not on your slit anymore and it makes you frown at him.

“What?”

He groans, “I have no condoms.”

For fuck’s sake.

“I mean,” you start, “you’re the last person I had sex with. Did you have sex with anyone after me?”

You’re not sure you even want to hear about it but in this moment you’d do anything to just have him finally fuck the shit out of you.

He avoids your gaze as he keeps it glued to his dick sliding up and down your slit. “I have.”

Oh.

“But it was protected, always,” he adds with a quickness, tone calculated and quiet.

Oh.

Okay.

That’s good but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

You have to swallow your emotions at this moment because your pussy is basically screaming at you to just swallow your pride. “Okay, then just do it without.”

He peers up at you through his thick brows with a frown. “Are you sure?”

You mumble, “For fuck’s sake.” Your hand quickly reaches for his shaft but he slaps it away just as quickly.

“I know you’re horny as fuck but I need you to be 100%,” he pauses when he sees you glaring at his dick. “Look at me, dammit.”

Your eyes shift to his and you childishly groan. “Yes, Yoongi, I 100% consent to letting you fuck me raw. Now, will you please just–”

He doesn’t even let you finish talking as he slides his dick right into you, bottoming out completely. You yelp at the intrusion, your slick walls stretching around his shaft so well, like it always has.

“Holy shit,” he whispers with closed eyes, the disgusting squelching coming from your sexes is proof of your arousal and the moans falling from his lips as your pussy tightly hugs him sounds like a choir of angels sustaining a high C.

You try to keep quiet, you try not to squirm, you try not to say the craziest things right now. Like ‘I love you’, or ‘I’ve missed you so much’ because you’re just horny and dumb.

“Move,” you whimper, needing more than he’s giving you right now. He hears you loud and clear, sliding out of you and right back in. The disgusting squelching reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment, not when Yoongi finds it hot and throws in occasional ‘fuck, listen to that’s and ‘you’re so fucking wet’s.

You cuss, eyes rolling to the back of your head when your sensitivity reaches its peak. A few more thrusts will already have you cumming, you’re sure of it.

He continues to thrust, slowly starting to pick up his pace and he finally cracks his eyelids open. His eyes find yours as he stares at you—scanning your pretty face that he loves to look at—especially when it’s twisted in pleasure like that.

Brows furrowed, lips swollen, pupils dilated, mouth agape, a thin layer of sweat draped over your forehead and building up in your hairline.

Somewhere along the line, the eye contact becomes too intense for you. Your hand snakes around the back of his head, closing the distances between you two by pulling him closer to you, licking and sucking on the honey tinted skin of his neck.

After a while of sucking and nipping at his neck and his thrusts never coming to a halt, your orgasm starts approaching you rapidly again. “I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking in your eyes from the pure pleasure that’s setting all your insides ablaze.

“Already?” he murmurs as he leans down, kissing away the tears that have subtly started rolling down your temples. “But I have yet to ruin you.”

Fuck.

“Whatever, though. I guess you’re just going to lose count of the amount of orgasms I’ll fuck you through.” He states it so nonchalantly because he knows only he could ever make you feel like this, make you desperate like this, make you a needy mess like this.

His hips continue to harshly snap into yours, the indescribable sensation of being fucked at this angle and pace has your thighs clenching. Unsurprisingly not long after, your orgasm hits you full force once again.

A sob rips through your throat, your trembling hands grab at his shoulders, nails painfully digging into his skin as he fucks you through your high. His low chuckle rings in your ear, breath hitting your throat as he lowers his face into the crook of your neck.

“Cumming all over my dick and sucking marks on my neck. Are you trying to claim me again?” he whispers, knowing how possessiveness was big a turn on for the both of you back in your relationship.

You simply cry under him, the orgasm lasting longer than any you’ve ever had before. His dick kisses your cervix repeatedly, your breasts bounce continuously from the momentum of his thrusts and the sound of his skin slapping yours only increases in volume the longer he fucks you.

“I asked you something,” he says, lifting his head off your shoulder to stare down at you. “Where’d that bratty mouth that I love so much go?”

You simply grunt in response, teary eyes glaring at him as you slowly come down from your high. The corners of his lips curl up in a twisted smirk at the sight in front of him, you know he enjoys seeing you in this state and him being the sole cause of it pleases him greatly.

The overstimulation is starting to catch up to you. Your hand basically moves on its own, pressing flat into his lower abdomen in order to get him to slow down.

However, it means nothing to him. He simply continues to thrust into you like he’s got something to prove. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you want to claim me again?” he repeats.

You mewl, sinking your cranium further into your soft pillows, exposing more of your throat and neck to him as tears continue to pour out of your eyes.

“Fuck you,” you whimper, digging your nails into the skin around his belly button but it doesn’t elicit a single reaction from him.

He simply chuckles at your snarky comment as he lowers his lips onto your throat, sucking and nipping at it. You know he expected you to say that. No one else knows you like the back of their hand like he does.

“There’s my girl,” he mumbles against your skin. His words paired with the simple act of kissing your neck has all your insides clenching and twisting with something you can’t quite describe.

Butterflies?

Something you’re not going to admit out loud.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, though.” With one more thrust, he pulls out of you and harshly flips you onto your stomach. You don’t even have the time to react when he gently grabs your hips yet roughly hoists your ass up off the mattress.

A sharp sting spreads through your asscheek and that’s when you realize his rough hand came down on your bum, spanking you hard.

“Ow!” you screech in pain yet pleasure, every vein in your body pumping blood faster and faster as you anticipate exactly why, of all people, you called Yoongi over.

He doesn’t even give you the time to come down from that spanking before he gives you another one. And another one. And another one.

“You ask me to come over after not talking to me for months, then beg me to fuck you. I give you what you want and you still have the audacity to be so rude to me?” He clicks his tongue loudly and immediately after the scolding, spanks you yet again. “Biting the hand that feeds you. Tsk. I should cum in that filthy mouth of yours for talking to me like this.”

He shoves his dick back inside without a warning and continues to assault your poor asscheeks, rough palms continuously coming down to your ass in loud smacks.

You hoarsely cry out under him, most likely from the embarrassment because thanks to that damn pill you might cum from just being spanked at this point.

As if he heard your thoughts, the spanking comes to an end and his hands are now flat on your back, keeping you pressed into the mattress with his weight while he starts fucking into you again. “You like getting fucked from the back, right?”

Your ass bounces back against his hips with each thrust, adding more and more sensations to your body. You’re not going to last for very much longer.

He mumbles, “No, that’s not it.” He leans forwards, pressing his chest into your back, lips grazing the shell of your ear and he places his hands against the mattress on each side of your waist, supporting his own weight. “You just love being fucked like a slut.”

Fuck.

“Isn’t that right? You don’t care in what position you get fucked in, as long as you’re getting fucked, hm? Like the horny slut you are.” He remembers exactly what you like and it’s embarrassing. “My slut, though. No one else’s.”

And you admit that yes, you wouldn't just want any stranger to talk to you like this.

It only works with Yoongi because he knows you. Because he understands you. Because he loves you.

Or he did once, at least.

But him showing up at your front door, no questions asked, 10 minutes after you asked him to, might be proof of something you both are trying to deny. Not like it matters.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you moan. You’ve already lost count but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s fucking you so good.

“Cumming so quickly from just being talked to like this. I bet you’ve missed my filthy mouth just as much as I missed yours,” he whispers into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin in a way only a lover should. “I fucking love it.”

The soft kissing and the low volume of his voice are a stark contrast to the rough pounding of his hips and the degrading words leaving his lips.

And you can’t help but love it.

“Tell me I’m right,” he demands as he picks up the pace, snaking one hand around to wrap around your throat and pull you up until the back of your head collides with his shoulder. “Tell me it’s true.”

Now with your orgasm approaching, he knows you’d do anything to get there.

He knows you too well.

“Fuck, I love it!” you cry as your nth orgasm washes over you, your body violently jerking under him from the overstimulation you’re experiencing.

“I know you do,” he chuckles as he fucks you through your orgasm. “That’s my girl. My fuckin’ girl.”

Fuck.

He has no idea what those words do to you.

Well, it’s Yoongi. He definitely knows what it’s doing to you.

Because you are not his girl. Not anymore.

But you don’t have the energy to correct him nor do you want to. Because at this moment, it feels like the two of you never separated. Like you never spent a day apart. All of the nostalgia, love and hate comes rushing back to you. Surely it’s that stupid pink pill’s fault.

He pulls out in a swift motion and turns you onto your side before he lies down behind you on his side as well, chest pressed into your back as he pulls you closer.

Fuck, how many positions is he going to fuck you in? Is he making up for all the time you spent apart?

Now that you’re in spooning position, he gently places his hand under your thigh and lifts it up to spread your legs. His hand leaves your thigh as he uses the same hand to guide his dick to your pussy again.

Your thigh almost wants to give out and drop, your chest still dramatically rising and falling as you chase your breath.

Another cocky chuckle rumbles in his chest at how you struggle to even move now, his hot breath draping over your neck and his hand returning to the same spot on your inner thigh as he lifts your leg again and pushes into you.

Your head falls back, falling deeper into his embrace and he welcomes that by pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t know how I survived all those months without y–” he pauses, “your pussy.”

Hmph. He’s the pussy if he doesn’t want to admit he misses you.

But then again, he was never that type. Yoongi was never the type to show his love through words but rather through actions and services, he had difficulties expressing his affection with words.

Like when it took him a year to say ‘I love you’ yet everyday after he came home from an exhausting day at work, he’d pull your feet into his lap and massage them in hopes of offering you some kind of relief.

Or when the topic of wedding vows came up and he said he finds them useless yet he’d buy you a fresh set of bouquets every week until down to the very week you broke up.

Or when he’d place a glass of water on your nightstand everyday when he left for work, whether he fucked the shit out of you the night before or not.

Yoongi always just showed you.

And now that he’s balls deep in your pussy, now that the effects of that pill are clouding your mind, now that his proximity is distorting your mind and setting all your nerve-endings alight again, you have to consciously stop yourself from asking him to come back home—back to you.

Your mind is so distorted that you don’t even recall the bad moments or the reason for your break up right now. You just miss him.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers in your ear, thrusting his hips into you at a considerably slower pace but by no means lacking in strength and passion.

“Like I’m fucking floating on a cloud,” you mumble back, body almost falling limp at his proximity and his dick rubbing your walls so deliciously.

He simply chuckles, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He continues to fuck into you, occasionally groaning and fondling your breast. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck.

“Yoongi, I–”

“I know.”

You don’t even know.

You don’t even know what you were going to say.

But his confident ‘I know’ proves to you that he knows.

Thanks to his slow pace, it takes your orgasm a little longer to approach and thank fuck for that.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he tells you, rubbing your tummy from the back. “Where do you want it?”

“I don’t care where you cum as long as you kiss me during it.”

Damn. Why the fuck would you say that?

Great. He just abruptly stopped thrusting. You’re such a fucking idiot.

You would have never been able to admit this if you didn’t take that stupid pill or even if you weren’t facing him with your back.

He swiftly pulls out and wraps his fingers around your bicep to turn you around, making you face him now. Still in spooning position but this time facing each other, he pulls you close, lifting your leg onto his hip as he guides his dick back into you and propping your head up on his bicep.

His hand finds its way back to your asscheek and squeezes the soft skin in his rough hand as he pulls you even closer, pressing your chest right into his.

“Cum with me, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He’s so mean for doing this. So mean for the things he says, so mean for fucking you exactly as you like it, so mean for making you feel like you still belong to him. Like he belongs to you.

He thrusts his hips into you faster and sure enough, the effects of the pill get to work because your stomach starts twisting from the inside immediately after the change of pace and his request of cumming together.

Your fucked out eyes meet his determined ones, staring into those black bottomless pits of his as he chases his own release.

He simply stares back, eyes occasionally dropping to your lips. In this moment, his eyes are everywhere you look, his breath hits every inch of your skin, his hand on your hip holds you so tightly that you think be might crack your hipbone. He’s inside your head. He’s everywhere. He’s everything.

It seems like he wants to say something but his attention gets disrupted by the sound of something buzzing on the nightstand behind you.

It’s his phone.

He tears his eyes away from yours, reaching for it whilst still being inside of you and by the guilty look on his face, it doesn’t take a genius to decipher it must be someone whose arms and bed he found comfort in after separating from you.

When he thinks you must’ve realized, he tosses his phone off the bed and returns his attention to you.

But he doesn’t owe you anything. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Not even love.

It’s quiet for a few moments, just your occasional soft moaning and his heavy breathing as you close your eyes to avoid his gaze.

Until you crack your eyelids open again and find out he’s been staring at you the entire time. Your walls tightly clench around him again, indicating your orgasm is close. “Just call me your girl again,” you whisper, allowing the vulnerability to escape your system once again.

Dumb bitch.

“You are. You are my girl,” is all he says before pressing his lips against yours as promised, grabbing a handful of your asscheek as he snaps his hips into yours and forces his tongue into your mouth.

You let his tongue force itself past your swollen lips, crying into his mouth as another orgasm sends electricity down all your limbs, making your brain explode with ridiculous amounts of dopamine and launching you straight to your Utopia.

You murmur some shit into his mouth that even you don’t understand, voice coming and going whenever it pleases, more and more slick gushing out of your completely drenched pussy. Tears continue to escape and roll down your temples, your nose is runny, your voice is hoarse.

A soft moan resounds in Yoongi’s throat when his own orgasm hits him, thrusts getting inconsistent and rough as he starts painting your walls with his warm cum, groaning loudly into your mouth which you happily welcome.

This is otherworldly.

Nothing will ever feel like this moment right here and you’re not sure whether you’ve accepted that yet.

He fucks both of you through your orgasms, pumping his load into you like it belongs inside of you and fuck, have you missed the feeling.

With a few more sloppy thrusts, creating a mess everywhere, his thrusting comes to a halt yet he never stops kissing you.

He curls his arm so your head shifts on his bicep even closer towards his face, keeping his dick buried in you, eliciting a simple sigh in content from the ex-girlfriend in his arms.

After an extra few minutes of nonstop making out with a man that was once yours, you’re the one that pulls away. Your stomach clenches with something you can’t describe when you watch him still chase your lips until he realizes you’ve pulled away, making him slowly open his eyes.

Is it guilt? Is it desire? Is it regret?

Fuck. Fuck. This whole idea just wasn’t smart.

You did your best to rid yourself of the stain he planted on you, closing the mark where he sunk his fangs so deeply into your skin, into your soul. You’re letting him reopen it and you’re so damn fucking stupid for it.

And you don’t understand why he’s the only one you want. No one else.

He stares at you for a moment before pressing his forehead against yours, still trying to catch his breath.

You stay unmoved for a few more moments before he delicately pecks your lips again and gently pulls his softening dick out of you, your nose scrunching when his load starts to leak out of you and onto your sheets.

He doesn’t say much else as he gets up from your bed, eyes searching the floor for something before he hunches over and slides his boxers back up his legs.

He leaves your bedroom without another word, making you simply frown at the ceiling but he quickly reappears with a glass of water and a damp towel.

He hasn’t changed a bit.

He takes care of you like nothing’s changed, cleaning your body up, changing the sheets while you don’t move a muscle, tucking you under the fresh covers and making sure you drink your water before opening the windows in an attempt to get some fresh air after you’ve fogged up the windows in the room.

He sits at the edge of your bed, gently tracing your hairline with the tip of his finger. “How are you feeling?”

If only he knew.

Your mouth slightly curls at the corners, a lazy smile plastered on your lips. “I feel amazing.”

Another sultry chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head in agreement.

This is nice.

But your mind changes when you silently watch him rising to his feet and slowly reaching for his clothes.

Ugh.

You’ve been vulnerable enough.

You asked him to come do one thing and he did it. You can’t ask much more of him.

But your heart works faster than your brain.

“Can you stay the night?” you quietly ask, fidgeting with your fingers under the sheets, relieved that he can’t see.

He glances at you over his shoulder, a frown on his brows. It seems like he thinks about it for a moment before parting pretty his lips to say, “What?”

Fuck.

Your voice goes even quieter, thinking of a way to reformulate the question. “Do you want to stay the night?”

He idly blinks at you, eyes staring straight into your soul as if you just asked him the most absurd question that you could’ve asked him. “Do you want me to?”

The neutral tone of his voice simply makes you shrug your shoulders in response, avoiding his intense gaze that always makes you feel like no one else exists in his mind but you.

Stupid.

“Y/N,” says Yoongi, quietly. Your eyes twinkle up at him, the clear look of a dilemma plastered on your face. He closes the distance between you two, hovering over your body before repeating his question with a bit more bluntness. “Do you want me to?”

Your swollen bottom lip is trapped between your teeth, veins pumping with anxiety and anticipation.

You sniffle a bit in hopes that it makes the tension and silence less awkward. “Yeah.”

Your eyes trail his features, remembering how gorgeous he actually is. How could you ever forget? His thick brows, his sharp eyes, his plump lips, his soft nose, his beautiful hair.

The next few words that leave his mouth rip you right out of your thoughts.

“Then I’ll stay,” he pauses, “for however long you want me to.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

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ouch i could feel jk's hurt from her words :( super excited about all the feelings coming in this series !

head over skates · jjk ; part iv.

··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can’t stand it.

so what happens when you’re suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?

SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

WORDCOUNT; 1,098

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing, mentions of sex, jk being nice and getting shit for it lol

a/n; part 4 and ohmygodddd the angst is coming y'all !! i hope you enjoy reading this one – lmk what you think and tysm for reading <3

It’s a nice day today.

The sun is shining, it’s getting warmer due to spring, there’s not a single hint of a breeze in the air, and everyone seems to be in a great mood. It’s amazing what the changing seasons do to people and their mood – yourself included.

You’re working on the project for your photography class while sitting on your jacket on the grass quad on campus. You’ve almost finished the introduction and made sure to note down the plans for the project as well as set up the whole layout. The need to be organized has taken over but you always see it as a good thing; it keeps you focused and it makes school work seem less overwhelming.

It’s peaceful here on the quad, the faint sound of other students talking and laughing fills the atmosphere around you. There’s even a guy playing the guitar not too far away from you.

It’s nice, you think to yourself as a small smile spreads across your lips.

Until it isn’t anymore.

The evil spawn, also known as Jeon Jungkook, suddenly appears in front of you and blocks the sun as he grins at you, looking cheerful and happy for some reason you don’t care to know about.

Your smile has now turned into a scowl as you stare at him, ignoring the fact that he’s once again holding two americanos in his hands, “is this gonna be a thing now?”

Jungkook nods instantly, not noticing or simply just ignoring the glare you shoot at him.

“Yeah, it’s a tradition now, ____ – I bring iced Americano and you bring your moody attitude and then we work on the project together,” he says, his grin now a smirk that you suddenly feel the urge to slap off his face.

God, why is he so persistent on doing this project with you? Why can’t he just leave you to do it on your own? Why can’t he go do what he usually does – being a fuckboy and play hockey – instead of bothering you with his presence?

You can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes at his words, choosing to ignore the comment he so casually dropped about you being ‘moody’.

“I can get my own iced americano, thank you very much,” you pointedly say.

“Oh, really? Where is it?” He asks, looking around on the grass surrounding you, “did you chug it?”

His quick retort circuits your brain as you’re left gaping at him. You then shake your head as if to clear your head and ask another question.

You’re not quite sure why you haven’t told him to leave yet…

“So what? Are you stalking me now?”

Jungkook snorts as you quirk an eyebrow at him in question, shooting you a look of amusement as he glances around at all the people surrounding you and him.

“____, you’re literally on the campus quad. Anyone with eyes in their head could find you here.”

You blink at him for a second, causing Jungkook to flash you a knowing smirk and offer you one of the beverages he so kindly brought along once again. You decide to ignore his smart retort and take the iced americano he’s holding out, instantly taking a sip and withholding the moan of satisfaction that was threatening to escape just now.

Jungkook huffs out a chuckle to himself as he sits down next to you and slips off his backpack, pulling out his laptop. You stare at him in bewilderment as if he has three heads when he sits down, wondering how he’s taking your hostility as an invite to sit down with you.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” You can’t help but ask, confused as to why he’s sitting here next to you for the second time within just two days.

“To work on the project?”

There’s a look of confusion on his face as he looks at you, eyebrows pulled together in question.

“No, seriously – I told you, I’m doing this project by myself. What are you really doing here?”

Jungkook’s face twists in slight annoyance at your determination to work on the project by yourself, “you’re not the only one who cares about their grades, you know?”

He doesn’t care about his grades – there’s just no way that a stereotypical jock like him could care about anything but frat parties, getting laid and his sport. Old Jungkook might’ve cared but this Jungkook right here? He hasn’t given a single fuck about anything but hockey and his image since he became the popular and hot hockey player.

“Are you saying that me doing the project on my own will give us a bad grade? If anything, you working with me on the project will make it even worse!”

The tone of your voice has turned defensive as you cross your arms over your chest and stare at him. Jungkook scoffs, a hint of amusement within the sound. If he’s offended by your words, he doesn’t show it. Why would he be? He doesn’t care what anyone thinks.

“Excuse me, I have a 94 in this class right now!”

You fall silent.

A score of 94%.

You can’t help but let out a laugh, wondering how he managed to score a 94 in photography when all he ever does with his spare time is hooking up with girls around campus or spending it in the hockey arena with his teammates. 

“And how did you manage to do that? Did you flirt with Mrs. Kim or something?” You huff out a mocking chuckle.

Just for a split second, you swear you see a flicker of hurt flash across his eyes before it’s replaced by his usual smirk.

“And if I did?” He taunts.

Your eyes roll before you have a chance to stop them from doing so, causing Jungkook’s smirk to turn into an almost devilish grin.

“Wow, ____, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

His words have you scowling at him – something you seem to do a lot when he’s anywhere near you. You then grab the iced coffee and take another sip, turning your attention back to your laptop screen, leaving Jungkook to sit next to you and work on the project in silence. You don’t say another word to him as you share the document with him so he can partake in the process.

His words affected you more than you wish they did because it was once the truth but if there’s anything you’ll never be again, it’s being jealous of something Jeon Jungkook does.

Palestine Masterlist 

(this is a list of informative sources, materials, stores, charities, books, documentaries etc to better help Palestinians, learn about the Palestinian struggle, and educate yourselves on us as a people. This list will be added on to with more links as they are recommended to me.)

Introduction to Palestine: 

Decolonize Palestine:

Palestine 101

Rainbow washing 

Frequently asked questions 

Myths 

Al-Nakba (documentary)

The Question of Palestine (book)

The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine: A History of Settler Colonialism and Resistance, 1917-2017 (book)

The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine (book)

IMEU (Institute for Middle East Understanding):

Quick Facts - The Palestinian Nakba 

The Nakba and Palestinian Refugees 

The Gaza Strip

The Nakba did not start or end in 1948 (Article) 

Nakba Day: What happened in Palestine in 1948? (article)

Donations and charities: 

Al-Shabaka

Electronic Intifada 

Adalah Justice Project 

IMEU Fundraiser 

Medical Aid for Palestinians 

Palestine Children’s Relief Fund 

Addameer

Muslim Aid

Palestine Red Crescent

Gaza Mutual Aid Patreon

Books:

A New Critical Approach to the History of Palestine

The Idea of Israel: A History of Power and Knowledge

Hidden Histories: Palestine and the Eastern Mediterranean

The Balfour Declaration: Empire, the Mandate and Resistance in Palestine

Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique

From Haven to Conquest: Readings in Zionism and the Palestine Problem until 1948

Captive Revolution - Palestinian Women’s Anti-Colonial Struggle within the Israeli Prison System

Palestine: A Four Thousand Year History

Except for Palestine: The Limits of Progressive Politics

Before Their Diaspora: A Photographic History of The Palestinians 1876-1948

The Battle for Justice in Palestine Paperback

Uncivil Rites: Palestine and the Limits of Academic Freedom

Palestine Rising: How I survived the 1948 Deir Yasin Massacre

The Transformation of Palestine: Essays on the Origin and Development of the Arab-Israeli Conflict

A Land Without a People: Israel, Transfer, and the Palestinians 1949-1996

The Iron Cage: The Story of the Palestinian Struggle for Statehood

A History of Modern Palestine: One Land, Two Peoples

Where Now for Palestine?: The Demise of the Two-State Solution

Terrorist Assemblages - Homonationalism in Queer Times

Militarization and Violence against Women in Conflict Zones in the Middle East

The one-state solution: A breakthrough for peace in the Israeli-Palestinian deadlock

The Persistence of the Palestinian Question: Essays on Zionism and the Palestinians

Fateful Triangle: The United States, Israel and the Palestinians

The False Prophets of Peace: Liberal Zionism and the Struggle for Palestine

Ten myths about Israel

Blaming the Victims: Spurious Scholarship and the Palestinian Question

Image and Reality of the Israel-Palestine Conflict, New and Revised Edition

Israel and its Palestinian Citizens - Ethnic Privileges in the Jewish State

Palestinians in Israel: Segregation, Discrimination and Democracy

Palestinian Culture:

Mountain against the Sea: Essays on Palestinian Society and Culture

Palestinian Costume

Traditional Palestinian Costume: Origins and Evolution

Tatreez & Tea: Embroidery and Storytelling in the Palestinian Diaspora

Embroidering Identities: A Century of Palestinian Clothing (Oriental Institute Museum Publications)

The Palestinian Table (Authentic Palestinan Recipes)

Falastin: A Cookbook

Palestine on a Plate: Memories from My Mother’s Kitchen

Palestinian Social Customs and Traditions

Palestinian Culture before the Nakba

Tatreez & Tea (Website)

The Traditional Clothing of Palestine

The Palestinian thobe: A creative expression of national identity

Embroidering Identities:A Century of Palestinian Clothing

Palestine Traditional Costumes

Palestine Family 

Palestinian Costume

Encyclopedia of World Dress and Fashion, v5: Volume 5: Central and Southwest Asia

Tent Work in Palestine: A Record of Discovery and Adventure

Documentaries, Films, and Video Essays:

Jenin, Jenin

Born in Gaza

GAZA 

Wedding in Galilee 

Omar

5 Broken Cameras

OBAIDA

Indigeneity, Indigenous Liberation, and Settler Colonialism (not entirely about Palestine, but an important watch for indigenous struggles worldwide - including Palestine)

Edward Said - Reflections on Exile and Other Essays

Palestine Remix: 

AL NAKBA

Gaza Lives On

Gaza we are coming

Lost cities of Palestine 

Stories from the Intifada 

Last Shepards of the Valley

Organizations and News 

Boycott Divest and Sanction (BDS)

Defense for Children in Palestine

Palestine Legal 

United Nations relief and works for Palestinian refugees in the Middle East (UNRWA)

National Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP)

Times of Gaza

Middle East Eye

Middle East Monitor

Mohammed El-Kurd

Muna El-Kurd 

Electronic Intifada 

Dr. Yara Hawari 

Mariam Barghouti

Omar Ghraieb

Steven Salaita

Noura Erakat

The Palestinian Museum N.G.

Palestine Museum US

Artists for Palestine UK 

Muhammad Smiry

Eye on Palestine

AHHH IM SO EXCITED ‼️ october rlly is the best month 🤭

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• ° kinktober masterlist

31 days of smut let’s get it °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

please read the warnings for each chapter!!

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

☆ day 1 ~ taehyung: breeding kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, breeding kink, baby talk

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 2 ~ : jimin: pet play

tags/ warnings: pwp, pet play, ass play, fingering of both holes, butt plugs, mild dumbification

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 3 ~ jungkook: thigh riding

tags/ warnings: pwp, thigh riding, cumming untouched, implied use of recreational drugs (weed)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 4 ~ hoseok: somnophilia

tags/ warnings: pwp, somnophilia, consensual drugging, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 5 ~ yoongi: praise kink

tags/warnings: pwp, oral (m. receiving), praise kink, vaginal fingering, cum swallowing

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 6 ~seokjin: corruption kink

☆ day 7 ~ namjoon: double penetration

☆ day 8 ~ jungkook: size kink

☆ day 9 ~ taehyung: watersports

☆ day 10 ~ jimin: cock warming

☆ day 11 ~ hoseok: oral fixation

☆ day 12 ~ yoongi: overstimulation

☆ day 13 ~ seokjin: creampie

☆ day 14 ~ namjoon: face sitting

☆ day 15 ~ jungkook: fingering

☆ day 16 ~ taehyung: spit kink

☆ day 17 ~ jimin: mirror sex

☆ day 18 ~ hoseok: squirting

☆ day 19 ~ yoongi: free use

☆ day 20 ~ seokjin: spanking

☆ day 21 ~ namjoon: voyeurism

☆ day 22 ~ jungkook: exhibitionism

☆ day 23 ~ taehyung: knotted dildo

☆ day 24 ~ jimin: role play

☆ day 25 ~ hoseok: primal play

☆ day 26 ~ yoongi: shibari

☆ day 27 ~ seokjin: vibrator

☆ day 28 ~ namjoon: cum stuffing

☆ day 29 ~ jungkook: pantie kink

☆ day 30 ~ taehyung: belly bulge

☆ day 31 ~ yoongi: mask kink

so good bae u ate this up ‼️

see you like that | jjk (m)

⇝ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

⇝ summary: In which Jungkook just loves watching you struggle with his dick in your mouth.

⇝ genre: pwp ; smut ; fwb

⇝ warnings: explicit sexual content, headpusher!jk, oral sex (m. rec), facefucking, a lot of saliva, very messy blowjob, fwb, jungkook is a cocky son of a bitch (yet caring), very much inspired by 3D and the vogue shoot, soft infidelity (not rlly but reader is seeing someone and jk knows), non-idol au (i never write idol aus but just letting u kno), praise, possessive!jk kinda, minors DNI

⇝ category: drabble

⇝ wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: soooo. just letting my headpusher!jk in a wife beater fantasies run wild after 3D…. and yes, the pictures used in the banner are LITERALLY what i imagined him to look like all throughout this drabble. no, this will not be continued i just needed to get this silly little idea off my chest. maybe this might get an alt version where the reader receives instead but im not sure so don’t count on it. STREAM 3D AND SEVEN AND LAYOVER hope u enjoy <3

“So… Are you gonna do something or what?” you say, a sassy edge to your tone as you cross your leg over the other, nonchalantly looking into your purse that’s right next to your hip on his bed. You do it to look unbothered but really, him standing in front of you like this will have you bending to his will in no time.

With that wife beater around his torso which exposes his entire sleeve of tattoos to you, piercings on display, fingers and neck decorated with silver jewelry, beanie covering his head and as always, that cocky smirk on his pretty lips.

And he knows.

He simply shrugs his shoulders with an air of arrogance and points his chin towards the floor in front of him.

“So eager,” he chuckles as you waste no time scooting off his bed and getting onto your knees in front of him.

You merely huff in response as he brings his hand down to cup your chin, tilting it up to catch a glimpse of the look in your eyes. “You look so pretty. Did you dress up for me?” he asks, the corners of his lips curled up and his tongue peeking out to play with the lip rings in his lip.

Your brows pinch together at his question and your lips purse. You rub your lips together before answering, “You’re delusional.”

He shakes his head as his chest rumbles from another cocky chuckle. “You knew I was going to ask you to come over when I liked your story. You rarely ever dress up for your man.” His fingers dig under the hem of his sweatpants and slowly start tugging them down his legs, letting them pool at his ankles.

Son of a bitch.

Well, he’s right but you won’t admit that.

You don’t even have a boyfriend but whenever you’re seeing someone, he’ll refer to them as your boyfriend because he knows it pisses you off and he likes to push your buttons.

Your lustful eyes stare up at him, a frown still decorating your features and your expensive lip combo smeared all over your chin from the rough make-out session you just had with him.

You roll your eyes as you groan, “I have to leave soon so are you going to get to it or what?”

You silently watch as he palms himself through the fabric of his boxers, slightly hissing at the sensation. “You want it that bad?”

He brings his fingers decorated in silver rings to rest on top of your head, inching your head closer to his body whilst still making you look up at him.

“I’m just returning the favor,” you mumble, eyes innocently blinking up at him but there’s a fire in your eyes that he takes notice of.

“Favor?” he echoes, his free hand slowly tugging down his boxers. His erection almost smacks you in the face but you don’t comment on it, you simply glare at him. He sheepishly smiles at you , a silent apology in his books, as he wraps his hand around his shaft.

“Yeah. You ate me out last time and I couldn’t reciprocate because I had to leave.”

His hand freezes on your head and so does the hand on his dick. He slightly tilts his head to the side in confusion, thick brows pinched together. “You know I don’t ever expect you to reciprocate just because, right?”

Of course you know that. Despite him being rough stuff and manhandling you, he’s never done anything without your permission or made you uncomfortable.

You just really want to suck his dick.

You lean your head back, cranium pressed against the side of his mattress as you do. “I know that, Jungkook. I’m just not interested in letting you have the higher score when it comes to giving each other orgasms. Now, are you gonna let me suck you off or not?”

Higher score of orgasms might be childish but you just don’t want to admit that you want to suck him off that badly. Not after he told you within 2 hours of meeting him that you’d be putty in his hands, especially after you kept calling him delusional for it. Because a year later, despite seeing someone, you’re still getting dressed up whenever Jungkook texts you a simple ‘come over?’.

He stares at you for a moment longer, big black eyes that hold the entire galaxy in them and it makes you wonder if he even knows how pretty his eyes are.

It seems like he’s made up his mind because he gently taps his fingers against your lips, patiently waiting for you to open up.

You hold onto the eye contact with him as you part your lips, allowing him to rub your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb and gently pushing it further into your mouth until you wrap your lips around it.

He rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he watches you carefully sucking on his thumb, your tongue swirling all around the tip and lathering his entire finger in your saliva whilst his other hand pumps his rock hard shaft. “You look so pretty with me in your mouth.”

You simply hum in response, not really clear on what you’re trying to say but he doesn’t care. He pulls his thumb out and smears all that saliva all over your lips before he taps the tip of his dick against your lips a few times, enjoying the way your brows pinch together in annoyance.

“I have to leave soon,” you whine, reminding him of the time you don't have.

He never asks you where to, though. Not even now, when it’s dark out and you can barely make out much in his dark room.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles before pushing down on your chin with his thumb to make you open your mouth, wasting no time as he slides right in. “So bossy. I should teach you some manners, Y/N.”

You angrily grunt at him, eyes furiously burning into his as he starts rocking his hips into your face. He keeps both hands on top of your head, making sure you stay still as he starts fucking your mouth.

“Shit,” he mumbles, watching how his dick disappears into your mouth and comes out lathered in your saliva. “Fuck, just like that.”

You attempt to blink your tears away as he starts hitting the back of your throat but to no avail, he simply keeps going with his head thrown back in pleasure and tears pour out of your eyes nonstop. “Holy shit, your mouth feels so fucking good.”

Moans and grunts leave his gorgeous throat, the silver chain prettily sitting on his collarbones sets every single one of your nerve endings alight.

You focus on breathing through your nose and relaxing your jaw but his hands continue to push your head further down his shaft, making it harder and harder for you to stay focused.

He adds pressure once your nose bumps against his pelvis, keeping you there as cuss words continue to fall from his lips.

You let him do that for as long as you can take it. You let a few seconds pass before you bring your hand up his leg and quickly tap his thigh twice which he immediately understands, causing him to pull out of your mouth instantly.

With a deep breath, you gasp for air as you lean back, cranium hitting the side of his mattress as you try to steady your breath and angrily glare up at him. You ignore the saliva that’s rolling down your chin, the mascara that has trickled down your cheeks and your clothes that are now covered in droplets of whatever fluids you’ve got in your mouth right now.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby. You know what the deal is when you run that pretty mouth.” He rubs your jaw with his right hand, the rest of his fingers resting against your cheek as he does so. the cold of his silver rings against your warm skin sends a shiver up your vertebrae and makes the way your underwear sticks to your sex almost uncomfortable.

He’s right, you know. He always threatens you with fucking your face when you’re running your mouth, something you do on purpose to see him like this. You just wanna see him like that.

Trying to keep his temper under control by laughing it away, rolling his tongue into his cheek, tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a frown that could crumble your self esteem in a few seconds. You love seeing him like that.

He’s right but he also knows you do it on purpose, he knows you like it like that, he knows it’s ultimately the reason why you always crawl back to him and he knows it’s why you always allow him to slither back into your life.

It all started one night out with your friends at a bar when one of your friends bumped into another friend, at the sane bar with a group of their own.

And there he was, the Devil himself, Jeon Jungkook. Black tapioca pearls staring you down like you owed him a thousand bucks.

It didn’t take long for him to ask his friends who you were. You made it clear you weren’t looking to fool around and he made it clear he could have you regretting those words. Funnily enough – not even a week later – you were with your bare ass in the air, face buried in his wet sheets, pathetically begging for him to fuck you harder.

A tap against your cheek rips you out of your thoughts.

When he decides you’ve breathed enough, he slides right back into your mouth. Starts thrusting. Hits the back of your throat. Holds your head to keep you still.

“I like what you did with your hair. Did you do it to come see me?” he asks with a shit eating grin on his face, fingers playing with the earrings you’ve decorated your ears with.

You merely grunt in response, glaring at him because you hate how he sees right through you. You did get dressed up for him, you did do your hair for him, you did wear your makeup how he likes it, you did choose an outfit you’re sure he’d like and you don’t even know why.

Or maybe you do. Not like it matters.

“Ah, so bad-mannered.” He picks up the pace of his thrusts, groaning every single time the tip of his dick slams into your soft palate. “Look at you now, unable to form a coherent sentence. I just wanna see you like that after you’ve ran your mouth all day.”

And he’s right, you’ve been provoking him all day. Ignoring his texts, giving him short answers, spamming your story with pictures of you being on a date with another man.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he glances down at you, staring right into your big eyes that are pleading for something you’re not even sure of. “So pretty. Taking it like I deserve it. You know that’s how I like it, huh?”

You simply blink at him, allowing the tears that are pooling in your waterline to roll down your cheeks. Your brows are still scrunched together, your throat making the nastiest noises as he mercilessly fucks your face like he’s got something to prove to you.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he moans, the pace of his thrusts never faltering in speed and precision. “You want me to cum all over that pretty face? Ruin all that hard work you put into looking so good for me?” He starts pushing you further down his shaft again, letting out a long, low cuss word as you start gagging on his dick.

“Because there’s no reason for you to go out looking that pretty for anyone else. You did it for me, didn’t you?” He pulls all the way out, black eyes glued to the long string of saliva that connects your swollen lips to his dick, not to mention all the drool rolling down your chin.

You huff, wiping some of it off your chin with the back of your hand but he doesn’t let you get away that easily.

He aims his dick right at your face, jerking himself off as he holds eye contact with you, brows furrowed and mouth parted as heavy breaths push past his lips. “Say it, say you only wanna look this good for me.”

Your eyes drop to the dick in his hand, watching as he jerks himself off to your face. Your eyes slowly shift back up to his, still not a single word or intention of compliance on your tongue for him.

“Say it, Y/N. I wanna hear you sa–”

You cut him off. “I only wanna look good for you.”

These words leaving your pretty lips, paired with your pretty eyes staring at him and your pretty lashes kissing your brow hairs is what has his hips stuttering in their rhythm as you finally send him over the edge, warm ropes of cum shooting right out of his dick and landing on your face.

You stick your tongue out, attempting to collect some of his cum as you innocently blink up at him, a stark contrast from how much your pretty face is being defiled.

He moans your name softly, eyes still staring into yours and you can tell he’s trying so hard not to close his eyes as he paints your cheeks, lips and chin white.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he whispers as he milks himself of every drop, unloading all over your face. Squelching sounds and heavy breathing are so loud in his quiet room, only the fan in his computer in the corner of his room makes noise.

His hand finally comes to a halt and he slaps his dick against your cheek and tongue a few more times before letting go of it.

“Damn,” he breathes out as he reaches for some tissues on his nightstand and carefully cleans your face. “You did so well.” He discards the dirty tissues in the trashcan that’s located in the corner of his room near his computer before he gently pulls you up to sit on the bed by your elbows.

“Sorry,” he chuckles as he takes a few more tissues to clean you up some more. “Want to take a shower with me?”

“No, thank you. I still need to be able to walk.” You put your phone up to check your reflection and take some tissues, cleaning yourself up before heading into the bathroom to thoroughly clean your face.

“What?” he says as he follows you into the bathroom. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that if I get into that shower with you, you’re gonna leave me sore as fuck.” You wash your face with cold water, careful not to get water in your falsies.

At this, he frowns. His eyes are staring at you through the mirror, arms crossed over his chest. “You know I won’t touch you unless you let me.”

“I know that,” you say as you look up and dry your face, automatically taking the fresh towel he hands you. Then, you turn to face him and his dark eyes shift to yours, intense gaze draping over you which sets your body ablaze. “The problem isn’t you, the problem is me,” you pause, “because I’ll always let you.”

His frown slowly fades and his teeth sink into his bottom lip to stifle a smirk, head arrogantly tilted to the side.

And with that, you walk up to him to press a quick kiss to his lips before walking back to his room to gather your purse and phone. You head out of his apartment without another look over your shoulder because you know damn well that if you stay a moment longer, your resolve will melt faster than a hot knife slicing through butter.

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— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

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— 🍀

that ending was so soft omfg it made up for all the fucking turmoil we all went through during this amazing series <333 i’m excited for what else u have in store for us 😏🩷

I hope that NOTHING bad happens🥹 I want oc and Jungkook endgame

the finale. ♡

wordcount: 6k

taste of a poison paradise | jjk (m) #36

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With degree in hand, your legs carry you to the man next to the small flight of stairs by the stage at such speed that he tumbles back from the impact when you wrap your arms around him. Your arms are tightly wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to your height, which he doesn’t seem to mind. He never does.

His strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you tightly against him whilst he presses soft kisses to your cheek and whispers sweet words of praise into your ear. His thumbs rub circles on your ribs through the fabric of your graduation gown, making you feel him from all everywhere.

You hold onto him tightly. Inhale his scent. Breathe him in.

It’s your favorite scent in the world.

Oh, right. It’s been 7 months since you’ve confessed your feelings.

When he pulls back to be able to look at your face, he gently cups one of your cheeks, his right thumb softly rubbing back and forth on the apple of your cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

Your nose starts heating up and your eyes are stinging, indicating that you are seconds away from bawling your eyes out. His soft voice and the sincere look in his eyes are enough to make you never want anything else in this world than to stay in this moment right here.

“Thank you. You–”

Your cute moment is ruined when an arm wraps around your neck from the back and puts you in a headlock. You groan loudly, already knowing who it is, not by logical thinking or common sense like ‘who else would do this?’ but the familiar scent and the graduation gown he’s wearing. “Taehyung!”

He only giggles as he continues to hunch you over, arm still locked around your neck.

“Let me go!” you whine, slapping his arm and hitting anything you can reach.

He finally lets go of you and hits your shoulder as he does, easily dodging your vicious attack of hitting him with your phone, wanting to smack that shit-eating grin off his face.

You scowl at the younger man that saw Taehyung’s attack coming but didn’t do anything to stop it and just let you get torn out of his embrace.

“Jungkook! Why didn’t you stop him?!” you grumble as you stomp your way back to him, hitting his shoulder with a loud smack.

“Ow!” he screeches as he rubs his pained shoulder. “It just didn’t feel like my place to!”

You roll your eyes and huff childishly as you cross your arms over your chest. “It didn’t feel like your place to protect your girlfriend?”

His frown turns into a sheepish smile when the words reach his ears, dropping his hands to his sides. “Quit being dramatic. You weren’t in any danger.” He lazily wraps his arms around you but you don’t reciprocate the hug.

“Trust me, if you’re in danger,” he pauses as he pulls his arms back, holding his arms up in 90° angles to showcase his biceps. “I’m pulling out these bad boys.” He leans in to kiss each of them separately, wiggling his eyebrows at you after showing affection to his biceps — which he puts a lot of work in.

You roll your eyes once again but you can’t hide the stupid smile on your lips. You run your hand through his long soft locks, which he absolutely loves and it makes him lean in and steal a quick kiss.

“Gross,” Taehyung mumbles from behind you as he wiggles himself in between you and Jungkook, wrapping his arms around both your shoulders. “We’ll be late for our reservation, let’s go eat, please!”

•••

You had a blast at dinner with your friends and Jungkook, maybe a little too much fun. Joon and his boyfriend Jin were there, Jimin, Hoseok, Yoongi, Sooyeon and more.

Oh, yeah. You and Eunbi kind of fell out when she found out about you and Jungkook. It’s for the better, you suppose.

With the few drops of alcohol you managed to get in, it was enough for you to ring back home and give your parents a piece of your mind.

Telling them not to bother Taehyung anymore, telling them you’re staying to live in Seoul and you won’t be coming back, telling them you’re grateful for everything they’ve done but it’s time you live on your own and figure yourself out.

It took a whole lot of courage, something you probably would never have done in your sober state of mind but that’s okay. You did it, you finally did it.

But on your way back home — in the second-hand, used car Jungkook bought a few months ago — you realize something. As Jungkook silently manages the gear shift with his right hand and steers with his left, you glance over at him.

He’ll usually glance right back at you and smile or wink or whatever — but right now he’s just focusing on the road, seemingly in deep thought. As if on autopilot. You realize he hasn’t said a word since dinner and you’re confused. Worried, even.

“What’s wrong?” you quietly ask, reaching for his hand on the gear shift once he comes to a full stop in front of a red light.

You don’t know whether it’s your touch or your voice that snaps him out of his trance but his head turns to look at you, then back at the road. “Hm?” he hums, as if he didn’t hear you.

You idly blink at him a few times and quickly take your hand back, almost as if his hand burned you. “Are you mad at me?”

His head snaps back at you, a scrunch between his brows and his lips parted in confusion. “What? No. Why would I be?”

You shrug your shoulders and slouch in your seat. “I don’t know. You haven’t said a word since dinner.”

He sighs quietly and shakes his head. “It’s nothing, babe. I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

He doesn’t reply but instead takes an unfamiliar turn and now your confusion turns up a notch. “Where are we going?”

“I just need to do something really quick.”

He doesn’t say anything else and with the sun setting right now, it’s like you’re watching a movie with how mysterious he’s being.

You can’t help the confused frown on your face but he clearly doesn’t want to talk any further. You glance out the window, a pout on your lips and your arms immaturely crossed over your chest.

Hmph. Jerk.

A long and quiet 20 minutes later, he parks in front of a massive house.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and moves to unbuckle yours too.

“Jungkook, what the fuck is going on?” Your patience has finally run out, evident by the tone of your voice and the way your knee keeps bouncing up and down.

“Just follow me,” is all he says.

He gets out of his car and walks around the front of the vehicle, opening the door on your side.

You just sit there with your arms crossed, staring out the windshield in front of you like a child that was denied some sweets.

He sighs at your stubbornness, rubbing his hairline with one hand while he leans his arm on the hood of the car and looms over you. “I want you to meet someone. Come on,” he says, his hand held out for you to take.

You glance at his hand and then up at him. He simply stares at you and it’s clear he’s not going to say much else so you just comply and deeply exhale before placing your hand in his. He helps you out of the car and slams the car door shut behind you before walking up to the massive gate and ticking the gate code into the small keypad near the gate.

The gate opens up and you don’t even have the chance to ask what’s going on before he’s walking down the big path leading to the even bigger front door. It’s a giant beige house, decorated with plants, lights, pillars, statues, massive windows, vines and more.

The big brown door has a golden lion head on it but Jungkook doesn’t use the golden door knocker, instead rings the doorbell and bangs his fist against the wooden door. Glances around in disgust. Taps his foot impatiently against the concrete underneath his feet. Knocks on the door a few more times.

If you were honest for once in your life, you’d admit that Jungkook being impatient and having a temper is really hot.

But it doesn’t look like he wants to hear that right now so you stay quiet.

Not long after, the door swings open to reveal an older man, probably around his early 50s.

His face twists into confusion for a second before he seemingly recognizes Jungkook and then looks at you, gaze draping over you as if to ask who the fuck is in his presence.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, though. Just lets the uncomfortable silence stretch and it’s like you’re watching a sitcom without a laugh track in the background. Just awkward and uncomfortable.

The man finally speaks up. “You haven’t come to see your old man in years and you think you can just waltz in to introduce one of your girlfriends? I’m not paying for her tuition.”

Years?

Old man?

Wait. This is his…

You glance at Jungkook in confusion and the clenched jaw, the furrowed brows and the pure hatred in Jungkook’s eyes almost sends a shiver up your spine.

The man drags his gaze up and down your figure. “Does she even speak Korean?”

You raise your eyebrows in offense. “My Korean is good, I can understand you just fine.” Thank you very much, old fart.

Through gritted teeth, Jungkook spits, “I’m not here to introduce anyone to you. I’m here to tell you to stop sending me money. I don’t want it.”

You glance at Jungkook before back at the man, who you now realize is Jungkook’s greatest enemy, his father.

“Ha,” the older man chuckles. “If you don’t want my money, that’s fine by me. How will you pay for school, though? You have a year left.” He sounds so smug and unapologetic and if you didn’t already dislike the man because of the stories Jungkook has told you, you definitely hate his fucking guts now.

Jungkook’s response is immediate, as if he knew his father was going to say that and he rehearsed his response in a mirror. “With my mom’s inheritance. And you’re gonna give me what’s rightfully mine. If you don’t, I will get the law involved.”

Your eyes widen at how much venom Jungkook’s voice carries, his hand tightly squeezing yours as he stares his father down.

His father merely blinks at him and if he’s shocked, he doesn’t show it.

“Threatening to sue your father? I raised you better than that–”

“You didn’t raise me at all.”

Oh, it’s getting… it’s getting a little intense now. You’re not sure you even want to be here in this moment.

But you know Jungkook needs you right now.

You gently tug on his hand, indicating he should wrap up what he came here to do.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you but squeezes your hand in return, letting you know that he’s aware. That he hears you loud and clear, even when you’re not speaking.

Something he’s always been good at.

You glance back at the man, realizing it’s you he’s staring down now. He spits, “Did you put him up to this?”

Your eyes go big at the accusation and you part your lips to reply but Jungkook’s already speaking for you. “Don’t address her. She didn’t do anything of the sort.”

But then, your blood runs cold.

Did Jungkook get inspired by your phone call home? Standing up to your parents? Living your life the way you want to?

You glance at Jungkook but he’s still staring his father down, standing his ground and not a single crack in his demeanor to allow his father to slither in and manipulate him.

He may have gotten away with it back when Jungkook was a helpless 15 year old boy that didn’t know how to cook eggs but not now. Not anymore.

His father must have noticed the determination in Jungkook’s eyes as well because he simply sighs. “Alright, then. At least you’ve got some of that business in you I always wanted you to have.”

Jungkook visibly relaxes, his hand not squeezing yours so tightly anymore.

“And I came for one more thing,” Jungkook says as he lets go of your hand and pushes the door further open, disappearing into the massive mansion and leaving you alone with his father.

Your hand is cold now. Freezing. Your fingers tingle, in need of Jungkook’s touch.

It’s quiet and his father is simply staring at you, seemingly trying to get you to fall dead from just his glare. You try to avoid eye contact with him at all costs but he doesn’t let you get off that easily when he suddenly decides he wants to make conversation with you.

“He’s just going to end up leaving you or hurting you, you know.” The words leave his father’s mouth in a neutral tone, as if he’s really just warning you.

And you can’t even begin to explain how quickly your blood starts boiling.

“He’s not like you,” you snap, a scowl slowly starting to form on your face. “He’ll never be like you.”

His eyes squint at you, decorated by a stern frown on his brows and you’re glad Jungkook looks nothing like his father.

You nervously look around, rubbing your own arms to comfort yourself. You hope Jungkook just hurries up so you don’t have to stand here for much longer. The tension is so heavy, you’re considering walking back to the car on your own because you actually can’t stand this.

But that’s when Jungkook arrives at the front door again, holding a box the size of a shoebox and…

Is that a dog?

“Come on, boy,” Jungkook mutters. “I want you to meet someone,” he says to the dog. The dobermann runs out the front door as Jungkook steps out, turning to look at his father one last time.

Ah. That’s who he wanted you to meet.

“You can’t just take Bam.” Mr. Jeon uncrosses his arms once he realizes what’s going on.

Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance. “I can and I will. He’s mine anyways, you were just supposed to take care of him until I graduated. I’ve decided I want him now.” Jungkook shifts the box to hold it with one arm while his other reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he starts walking down the path leading to the gate.

“Don’t come crawling back when you need me, son,” his father says, loud enough for you two to hear. “I never want to see your fucking face again.”

Jungkook abruptly stops in his tracks and takes a second before turning around, facing his father while clueless Bam keeps excitedly running in circles around you two. “The feeling’s mutual, dad.”

He looks nonchalant as he says it, no emotion in his tone and you almost believe him but your eyes don’t miss the way his grip on the box has tightened, his knuckles have turned white, his hand in yours is trembling, ultimately betraying himself and his nonchalance about the situation.

“Goodbye,” is all Jungkook says before turning on his heels again and leaving his father to idly stare at his son’s retreating back.

You stay quiet as you follow Jungkook to the car again, his hand tugging you forwards and his eyes making sure that Bam is following you two. Jungkook leads you both to the car, making Bam get in the backseat as he puts the box down carefully next to Bam, before helping you get in the passenger’s seat.

He starts the car without another glance at the mansion and slowly accelerates. You glance over your shoulder to look at his father in the distance one last time, who’s still standing in the doorway of his — and once Jungkook’s — home. He also has a neutral expression on his face but his body language betrays him when your eyes take notice of his shoulders that are slouched in defeat.

And when you look back at Jungkook’s tense jaw and furrowed brows, you can tell that neither of them wanted this.

You suppose not every story has a happy ending.

The rest of the ride home is silent.

•••

Upon your arrival to Jungkook’s apartment, you help Bam get out of the car and give him a few scratches and rubs, introducing yourself to him whilst Jungkook takes the box into his hands. You kind of wonder what’s inside but you don’t want to ask just yet.

You suppose he went to his own room. Got some of his belongings. Maybe they’re toys for Bam. Who knows?

He unlocks the front door and helps you two inside, kicking his shoes off. He walks further in and places the box on the coffee table before turning to Bam, who is wagging his tail and running circles around the living room.

Jungkook takes this time to drop to his knees and welcome Bam with a big hug and kisses to his forehead, rubbing his back and belly. He talks to him in his little baby voice and it makes you quietly chuckle but you can’t help but have this heaviness clouding your heart.

Are you the reason Jungkook decided to break off all contact with his only family?

When he lets Bam go to let him explore on his own, he goes to sit down on the couch and pull the box toward him from where he’s seated.

You approach him and sit next to him, glancing down at the box in his lap.

He opens it and all you’re met with are Playstation and Xbox games. You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes, your boyfriend is a gamer after all.

But then he piles all the cases and lifts them out of the box, placing them on the table. Your eyes return to the inside of the box and that’s when you catch a glimpse of several photographs. A child and a woman.

A boy that you’re sure is young Jungkook and a woman that looks insanely familiar to you.

And it instantly dawns on you that these are pictures of him and his mother.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you glance at the pictures, eyeing the way his fingers dive into the box to take a few of them out. He stays quiet as he looks at each of them individually and you just stay next to him, taking the box from him and putting it on the table again.

He looks so much like his mother, it’s almost eery.

His father’s words instantly come rushing back to your head.

I never want to see your fucking face again.

Fuck.

Did he distance himself from Jungkook because Jungkook reminds him of his deceased wife?

A picture of him and his mother at some amusement park. One of Jungkook eating cotton candy, his mother holding a stuffed animal. Them in a restaurant. Them at a museum. A park. A waterslide. On a couch. In a kitchen. Having fun.

It also quickly dawns on you that it must have been his father that took all of these pictures.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see him again?” you quietly ask, glancing at his side profile. His long hair falls over his cheeks so you gently tuck it behind his ear, to be able to look at him better but he hasn’t looked up from the photographs.

“Kook,” you whisper, grazing the shell of his ear, tracing down to his earlobe and rubbing it in between your fingers.

He doesn’t respond and you decide to stop pushing. If he wants to talk about it, he will.

However, it isn’t long until he drops the photographs back into the box and turns to you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“Oh, baby,” you mumble as you wrap your arms around him as well, holding him close. Soft sobs reach your ears and you wish there was more you could do for the broken boy in your arms.

You gently rub his back and draw circles through the fabric of his shirt. “Shh.” You stroke the back of his head, playing with his long wavy locks. “I’ve got you.”

Bam, as if he sensed his owner’s distress, joins you two by the couch, resting his snout on the edge of the sofa’s cushion next to Jungkook’s thighs.

You continue to comfort Jungkook, pressing soft kisses to his temple and hair, trying so hard not to get emotional right now. You need to comfort Jungkook now, not the other way around.

“I never wanted it to be this way,” he manages to mumble through sobs, his entire body trembling in your embrace.

“I know you didn’t.”

“Do you think he hates me?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Was I out of line?”

“No, you weren’t.”

“How? I haven’t seen him in years and I just decide to show up to tell him I never want to see him again.”

You slowly pull back. Cup his wet cheeks. Wipe away some of his tears with your thumbs. “The same can be said about him, you know.”

He stares into your eyes as if to search for sincerity but you’ve never been more geniune in your life, staring back without a single crack or tear in your demeanor and opinion.

He sniffles softly and nods his head, bringing his hand up to wipe away some of the tears with the back of his hand.

You lean forwards and softly peck his lips, tasting his salty tears on them.

When you pull back from the peck, his lips are instantaneously back on yours. It’s a bit rough and needy but you suppose it’s because of his state right now. You try to pull back from the kiss but Jungkook simply keeps going, chasing your lips but you turn your face to the side to deny him of the kiss.

“Are you okay? Done talking?” you ask him breathlessly as he continues to kiss down your jaw and neck, coating your collarbones in his kisses.

He nods his head quickly and kisses back up to your lips. “I just need to forget about everything. I need to feel you, I need to forget about what just happened,” he says in between kisses, his hands firmly holding your waist as if he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers.

“Okay,” you whisper in response, allowing him to kiss you some more.

“We should get to the bed, Jungkook,” you mumble against his lips. “We don’t want to make a mess on your couch like we did mine.”

Yeah. About that.

After Jungkook fulfilled his side of the deal, which was buying you a couch in return for teaching him how to cook, you and Jungkook went at it like fucking dogs on that couch and had to get it cleaned 2 weeks after he bought it. Fucking horndogs.

He simply rises to his feet and tugs you along by your hand, leading you to his bedroom.

Bam quickly follows but Jungkook quietly tells him that ‘this is not for children’s eyes’ as he closes the door on his beloved dog.

He pulls you to the bed but you’re faster, pushing him to sit down on the edge of the bed. He looks up at you in anticipation, wetting his lips.

You slowly tug your dress down your body, letting it pool around your ankles as you move to unclasp your bra and toss it somewhere on the floor. You bring your hand to his mouth, tapping his lips in order to tell him to open up.

He obeys, parting his lips and welcoming your index and middle finger into his mouth. He holds eye contact with you as he sucks sensually, wrapping his lips around your fingers. Slides his tongue in between them. Lathers them in his saliva. Stares at you like you’re the world and he’s as insignificant as a leaf.

You let him suck for a few more moments before taking your fingers back, using your wet fingers to wet your nipple, lathering it in his saliva and stimulating yourself. You softly pinch your own nipple. Roll it around. Feel it harden under your touch.

His eyes drop down to your chest instantly, watching as you use his saliva to pleasure yourself and the growing bulge in his pants doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You bring your other hand to lift his chin to look back into your eyes. You slowly lower yourself onto his lap, straddling his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck.

He looks up at you, his cold hands traveling up your bare back to hold your waist firmly. Watches as goosebumps pop out of the upper layer of your skin. Sighs in content. Drops his hands to your hips.

You gently roll your hips into him, a needy moan leaving your lips at the sensation. The thin fabric of your panties does a terrible job of keeping outsiders out, already making you feel like he’s straight up sliding his dick in between your folds.

He kisses down your collarbones to the swell of your breast before taking the other nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking all around it until he’s satisfied.

You gently push him back by his shoulders and he lets you, staring up at you with hooded eyes. You reach for the pillows and prop them up behind his head before you lean forwards, continuing to roll your hips and grind into his hardening crotch.

Your lips meet his in a needy kiss, making out for what seems like hours and you never stop grinding into him because it just feels too good.

Pulling away from the kiss, you glance down at a breathless Jungkook, lips swollen, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

You sit up and move back on his thighs as you reach for the button and zipper on his slacks.

He glances down and grunts quietly. “You’ve soaked through my slacks.”

You aim your gaze at where he’s looking at, instantly noticing the wet patch you’ve created on his beige slacks. Heat rises to your already hot cheeks.

“Oh, sorry,” you breathe out, fidgeting with his belt.

He huffs, “Sorry? It’s hot as fuck. You make me so fucking hard.”

You wet your lips and roll off him, helping him out of his slacks and his dress shirt. You move to palm him through his boxers but he stops you, gripping your wrist tightly.

“I need to fuck you,” is all he says when he pulls you down onto the mattress, rolling you over so you’re on your back with your head comfortably on the pillows.

He palms himself through his boxers when he sees you sprawled out in front of him, naked and exposed. His eyes trail down to your panties, noticing the impossible-to-ignore wetness that makes your panties stick to your sex.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispers as he moves to tug your panties down your legs, groaning to himself when a single string of your slick stays attached to your panties, connecting them to your pussy.

“Who are you this wet for?” he asks as he tosses your panties aside, eyes still glued to your attention-seeking sex while he palms himself.

You hum softly as you pretend to think about your answer to tease him but he doesn’t seem to be paying attention, eyes still fixed on your pussy.

You decide to push his buttons. “I’ve kinda been fantasizing about Jimin lately.”

His eyes instantly shoot up to yours, his hand pausing on his crotch as he stares at you with squinted eyes.

You can’t help it, the corners of your lips start curling up. You begin, “I just–”

Smack.

“Ow!” you gasp, the heat from his slap spreading through the side of your thigh. Your eyes shift to your thigh, your hand rubbing where he slapped you on your skin. “What was that for?”

You can’t say you didn’t expect that, though.

“For not answering my question.” His eyes drop down to your pussy again, fingers gently sliding in between your slick folds.

You whine, “But I did answer your question.”

Smack.

The sharp gasp that rips through your throat this time is out of surprise. That’s because this time, his hand came down to your sensitive pussy in a slap, the wetness spreading all over your sex. “Ow!”

“Are you gonna continue being a brat or do you want to be fucked like you deserve it?” He ditches his boxers, tossing them off the mattress and at the growing pile of clothes on the floor near his bed.

You eye his erection, tip red and oozing precum. Screaming for attention.

He lines himself up at your sex, rubbing his head up and down your slit.

You retort, “I always deserve it.”

He bitterly chuckles, “Don’t piss me off, Y/N. You think you deserve it after what you just said?”

The corners of your lips curl upwards, a twisted grin on your lips as you glance up at him with innocent eyes. “Why don’t you just fuck me like you hate me, then? If I piss you off so much.”

He shakes his head as he fully pushes into you, disappointed at himself for always caving and always giving you what you want but the gasp that leaves you at the intrusion satisfies him. “I do hate you,” he mumbles as he bottoms out, a grunt leaving his throat soon after.

You squeal quietly at being filled to the fucking brim, the burning stretch in your walls makes tears prick in your eyes. You wait a few more moments to get used to the feeling again before you decide to provoke him again. “Hm, I hate you too,” you reply, your breath heavy.

“Oh yeah?” he grumbles as he pulls out, keeping the tip of his dick inside before slamming all the way back in, watching your face as you cry out under him.

“Yeah, I hate you so much,” you moan, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

He kisses your cheeks so gently, a stark contrast from the rough pounding of his hips and the mean words spilling from his lips. “I hate you too. So fucking much,” he mumbles into your ear, a soft moan following his words that clearly betray him as he continues to snap his hips into yours.

You’re a moaning mess under him, legs wrapped around his waist to keep him caged and trapped within your grasp. With your claws and fangs sunken into his soul.

You never want to let him go.

And maybe those actions and feelings betray you too.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he murmurs before slowly leaning back and pushing both your legs back toward your torso, hooking them around his arms to spread you out fully as he gets back to fucking you good.

“Shit,” you cry out at the new position, pressing your head further into the pillows and arching your back off the mattress. “Fuck, Jungkook.”

He nods as he kisses your thighs and knees, still consistently sliding his dick in and out of you.

The sinful sounds such as skin slapping and wetness squelching enhances your sensitivity even more, moans continuously spilling out of you.

“Who are you this wet for?” he repeats, eyes intently staring down into yours as if to warn you about your answer.

You have no motivation to keep provoking him, though. Not when he’s fucking you this good. “You,” you mumble.

“Who?” he repeats and you’re so sure he heard you but that doesn’t matter to him. He starts slamming his hips harder into yours when you’re not responding to his question quick enough.

“You, fuck!” you cry out, your poor pussy getting pummeled by his entire weight as his continues to harshly fuck into you.

“Good girl. My good fuckin’ girl,” he whispers as he presses his lips against yours. “Rub your clit for me, let’s cum together.” He speaks to you in between kisses, lazy open-mouthed kisses that have you weak, no strength to battle him right now.

You obediently move your hand down your body and start rubbing at your clit in quick circles. Eyes squeezed shut. Moans spilling from you that Jungkook simply swallows. Toes curling. Tears rolling down your temples and into your hairline.

“Fuck. Fuck,” he grunts and you know he’s close to his climax with the way his breath is getting even heavier.

You push yourself to your high but Jungkook can’t hold on for much longer as he starts to spill inside of you. Paints your walls with his cum. Marks his territory. Claims you as his.

Quiet moans leave his lips as he milks himself of every drop inside of you, pumping you full of his load.

You quietly grunt as you take what he gives you but your fingers never falter in speed and precision. Instead, seeing him on top of you, pressing his lips sloppily to yours as he cums and continues to moan into your mouth is enough to send you over the edge.

You clench around him continuously as your climax hits you, dropping onto you like a pile of fucking bricks. Jungkook picking the pace of his thrusts back up to fuck you through your orgasm ultimately makes it last that much longer, tears and moans involuntarily spilling out of you.

“Oh, shit,” you moan as you ride out your high, eyes tightly shut and fingers starting to slow down.

“Damn,” he whispers as he pulls out, staying on top of you as he tries to catch his breath.

His big black eyes search yours for a brief second, an unreadable expression on his face.

You reach up, brushing his hair out of his face with your clean hand. “What’s on your mind?” you whisper, running a hand through his gorgeous hair.

He sighs as he rolls off of you, disappearing into the hall until he’s back with a damp towel. He quietly cleans you up and stays quiet throughout it before laying down beside you and cuddling up to you. Lies on his back. Pulls you onto his chest.

“I love you.”

Oh.

You idly blink at him, his words take too long to process.

Neither of you have really said this before.

“What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to say it back. Just wanted you to know.”

You blink again, this time staring at him like he’s grown a second head until you suddenly start chuckling.

His brows pinch together at your giggles, lips pressed into a thin line. “What’s so funny?”

You simply shrug your shoulders, moving to lean your chin on his bare chest as you glance up at him. “Nothing, just…”

He impatiently clicks his tongue, staring down at you. “Just what?”

You can’t help but smirk as you say, “You were so sure I was going to wrap around your finger first. Look at you now.”

He continues to scowl at you until the words leave your lips. His eyes visibly soften, his lips quivering into a pout to stop himself from smiling.

He quietly chuckles as he says, “Well, I guess you’re the winner then.”

You hum in response, a soft smile on your lips. “I guess I am.”

You: 1.

Jungkook: 0.

The end.

Wait, no. Not yet. It seems like Jungkook has something else to say.

“Well, technically,” he pauses, “I have the best, most gorgeous girlfriend on the planet. I’m the winner after all.”

Hm. Well, you suppose you’ll give him that.

“Well then,” you pause. “I love you too.”

He tries to keep a neutral expression but he can’t help himself when the biggest smile stretches onto his lips, flashing you his bunny teeth and you’ve never seen him smile this wide, so wide his eyes disappear behind his eyelids.

You: 1.

Jungkook: 1.

The end.

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omfg rid that was… everything i wanted and more from cmi jk. yes i love the fluffy love making <333 but i knew jk could be a literal demon if he chose and wow did he impress 😵‍💫😵‍💫 after all those days of them being mad at each other i was hoping for that angry makeup sex and while it wasn’t angry it was rough and i ate that shit all up. thank u 😋🩷🩷

colour me in: seven | jjk (m)

Summary: At first, it's an argument that causes the unwanted, childish distance between Jungkook and you. And then… open blazers and a lip ring.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: est. rel.; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: an argument, cute couple-y things but also they're dorks n cringe sometimes, seven jk (incl the promo pics, laundromat hoodie bf koo, and drenched in the rain koo!!), fighting over food, they're a bit mean to each other, but they adore each other too, brief mention of a rough childhood, sexual tension, taeun being everything, kissing, dumb jokes, period and pms mention!!, a photoshoot!, subtle hints to the future of the main story :'); explicit sexual content: ahh.. making out, dirty talk, oral (f. & m. receiving), brief spanking, face-fcking, light choking, sweet and rough sex, dom jk, big dick jk, whipped simp jk, petnames, multiple orgasms, sex on the couch n on the floor? :'), he loves her a$$ and tiddies, multiple positions, cockwarming!!, mention of aftercare... the ending lol :D ➳ word count: 25k lmfaoo it's oneshot sized yall 😁 ➳ a/n: hi!! welcome back!! this is part of my series colour me in, but you can read it as a standalone-oneshot!! tysm for supporting me and encouraging me, guys, it means so so much. this is also unbeta'd, so pls go easy on me LOL. and since this was a piece of worrrrk.. come and talk to me about it, it makes my day fr fr <33 ➳ listen to: seven by jungkook | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

In hindsight, your argument was blissfully domestic after all. In hindsight, maybe even comedic.

You’ve seen these things on TV and read about them in novels; didn’t experience them growing up because your parents didn’t really fight over such harmless matters. They never needed to lift a finger in their ultramodern kitchen, filled with up-to-the-minute equipment to fill their table.

But Jungkook and you don’t rely on such luxuries. You do things for yourself. So, such a couple-y, casual life leads to couple-y, casual arguments. Requires it. Fighting is healthy; entangles two souls some more.

Which is exactly where you are now. Exactly what you’ve become: A true unit. Quarrelling over trivial, everyday things.

Just to end up folded in half, holding onto the very last of your sanity, biting back more inappropriate screams.

In regards of making up, you’re perhaps not that casual. Because he’s a relentless, brutal beast.

Wrecking you right where everything began.

Monday

The end of the day begins with a giant hole in the middle of your thoughts.

Your previously whirring brain tossed away all thoughts of advertisements and seasonal launches, vacant and dark until your senses shut down everything that wasn’t vital to survival.

Like the lights of the evening as your car passed the streetlamps. The tired faces on the pedestrian zone, the odd wrinkles in your skirt, or the scent wafting from the kitchen when you step out of your heels.

Your mind operates on reflexes and automatic movements; the ball of your palm rubs against your eyelid, realising too late that you’re probably smearing your eyeliner.

A sense of reality only truly returns when you hear a familiar voice call out your name, muffled through the walls between you.

You exit the bedroom with fingers scratching the nape of your neck, tiny steps floating over the floor and past the living room. On the coffee table, you register one or two dishes. Rice, too. Smells so good, but…

As you reach him in the kitchen, you halt at the threshold, eyes scurrying to the few pots and ladles in the sink. He’s diligent and fast; cleans up when dinner simmers. Minimal work left after the meal.

For a moment, you take in the cleanliness of the kitchen, and when your eyes move up to the man himself, you beam.

He’s wearing an apron – baby blue with little flowers and rainbows imprinted on it. His mom bequeathed him with one of her old ones, and he’s been boasting about it ever since.

You saw one with astronauts, moons and telescopes once; you might purchase it for him at some point, not least of all because it includes all the things the two of you love.

A tattooed hand pushes back his mane, messy and pointing in all directions the way it does after his showers. His fingers card through the fine tresses two more times before he turns towards you — an immediate smile, similar to yours, spreads across his face.

The tiny little dimples over the corners of his mouth distract you for a second until you see his hand at waist level, beckoning you into the kitchen and a greeting, sweet embrace.

Compared to the cold outside, his oversized, full-sleeve, white shirt offers a familiar warmth. He always smells the same, musky and fresh; not like cherry blossoms at all, but he reminds you of their softness.

Mixed with the scent of tonight’s meal, you inhale it all, wrapping your arms around him as your eyes close in exhaustion. If he wasn’t swaying you in his hold, you’d probably fall asleep, right there against his chest.

A kiss to your temple, and he asks, “Hungry?”

You’re not sure. You cuddle into the apron and whatever’s visible of his shirt, and mumble against him, “Not too much… to be honest, I was gonna shower and sleep.”

“Oh?” he wonders immediately, traces of disappointment in his voice. “But I made this for you.”

You smile again. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll eat, don’t you worry.” You take a deep breath, and then lift your head off his chest without letting go. “In all honesty. I saw the food outside and thought you had it delivered.”

“So you were gonna waste something you thought was restaurant food?”

You laugh. You’re sure you could see his rosy pout even if you weren’t looking straight at him.

“No. It just looks very good… I would’ve heated it up tomorrow. But since yours was a one-person-effort,” you pat his back in pride, watching as strands of his bangs fall back into his eyes, “we shall eat.”

“And it comes from the heart, too.”

“Right. It comes from the heart, too.”

You rub his back once, soon backing away. There isn’t much to do for you anymore, but you still grab a couple napkins, chopsticks and spoons as he carries some water into the living room.

The couch feels soft, true Heaven, when you sink into it. Your heartbeat slows down, your mind at ease; when you tilt your head, your neck cracks.

But clinking your glasses of water with someone who cherishes you enough to step back and forth in a kitchen for hours… It's a comfort that’s incredibly close to a peaceful night’s sleep.

And it’s worth the effort, too. Despite the conversation and your complaints about work, you can’t help but compliment dinner every other moment. Possibly another endearing habit you picked up from him.

But you slow down when fatigue returns bit by bit, your eye twitching when you feel a well-known tickling in it.

You’re careful of potential spices when you lift your thumb and rub your eye with the back of it, fighting the itch. For a moment, you stop chewing, and Jungkook only lifts his gaze to you when the movement against your eye continues, circling motions.

“Hey,” he says, grasping your wrist, pulling it down slowly, “that’s bad for the retina.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s not like my retina’s been nice to me, either.”

You resume chewing, swallowing the mushy remnants of the rice. Your attention falls back to the bowl of food, and your chopsticks aimlessly poke around for a second before he asks, “Why? You okay?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding gently. “It’s just,” you point to your eyes, chopsticks dangerously close to your face, “that eye thing. It might be an infection or something. It’s so bad today that it’s hurting my head.”

You’ve complained about the issue a couple times — back when it was just an itch, you assumed it was the dusty town, perhaps even sleep deprivation. But the itch has transformed into a relentless pain, moving up your temples and across your forehead.

“Again, yeah?” Jungkook asks, following with a tender gesture of tucking your hair back. The pad of his thumb brushes over your eyebrow. “I’ll massage your head before we go to sleep.”

You sigh in relief, tired eyelids shutting briefly as you claim, “You’re the fucking best, you know?”

“Yeah.” He delivers a nonchalant, drama-esque shrug of his shoulder. Unmistakable smirk. “I guess I do know.”

The giggles from when you started dating still remain. You remember annoying the hell out of your friends back then, high school butterflies visible through your stomachs and in your bright grins.

Jungkook’s ears would redden, a smile even in your eyes. You can imagine how irritating the honeymoon phase felt to them — not that the two of you ever snapped out of it.

Even now, you’re drowning in it.

Well, until you’re not.

Because the moment he slings his arm around you, leaning back, his plate and bowl empty, you move forwards. Place your own dishes onto the table, cuddling further into him.

Only, he seems to interpret it differently.

“Aren’t you eating anymore?”

Not the message you intended to deliver. But perhaps… he’s not wrong after all.

Because…

While the evening ended on a gentle note, much needed, you’re done with today by now. Craving a warm bed, strong arms around you. A sweet, soft sleep.

And the meal is worth a thousand culinary stars, but your appetite keeps dwindling, and hadn’t he put so much effort and affection into all this, you would’ve probably headed straight to bed.

So you answer truthfully, “I can’t eat more…”

“Hmm.” He briefly points to your portion. “You just ate half of it.”

Brief silence. It must’ve gotten late, because among the quieter traffic on the main road afar, you hear a couple nightlife bugs chirping, too.

You look between the bowl and him slowly, blinking, unsure what to say. The arm around your shoulder doesn’t match his tone, so it feels a little awkward now.

You mutter, “I’m sorry.”

Because should you force yourself to scarf all of this down now, you probably won’t be able to sleep.

But Jungkook’s hums and insecure voice are making you feel bad — you know he doesn’t mean to. It’s the puppy-doe nature, a combination of forlorn, soft eyes and pouty words.

“Ah… It’ll go bad by tomorrow, but…” he starts, but you cut in—

“Fridge?”

An immediate shake of his head, a click of his tongue. “Not with that one. I mean, we could, but it’s gonna be all dry and unpalatable in the morning, y’know?”

You don’t fully have a right to be annoyed. Neither of you does. But the day’s been irksome, work a mess, paper sheets flying around — on top of that, you finished your blister pack of birth control last Friday.

The period, probably approaching tomorrow and meddling with your busy schedule, is already putting you in a sour mood.

So the current lack of a solution doesn’t help your drooping eyelids and still partly tumultuous mind.

You push yourself forward on the couch, sighing before you suggest, “Okay. Then I’ll eat.”

“Woah,” he immediately voices, dropping his arm. He attempts to pull the bowl out of your reach, but you grip it tight, swallowing a small bite of rice. “I’m not forcing you to.”

“Yeah, but still.”

Another sigh of frustration falls out of you, your full stomach crying, but you pull the bowl to you, another bite ready between your chopsticks. But a moment later, Jungkook pushes your hand down again, every rice corn falling back to its prior place, fortunately never leaving the bowl.

Unbelieving, you shoot an aghast glare at him, to which he responds, “Don’t force it. Seriously.”

A rice corn still sticks to your lower lip, and you pull it in with the tip of your tongue. You place the warm meal back onto the table, half turning to Jungkook, voicing an irritated, “Dude!”

“You don’t have to,” he assures, but he looks clearly offended. Looks away, rubs his thigh, eyeing every object on the table before he adds quieter than before, “You know… That’s happened a couple times in the last few weeks.”

“…What did?”

“I’d cook for you and you wouldn’t finish it.”

“Babe… The last few weeks have been tiring.”

“I know,” his voice grows higher at the end of the syllable, but then calms again after a sigh. “But we refrigerated a lot of stuff, some of which I shared with Joon or Tae the next day. Or threw away.”

“Nah.” The ridiculing smirk you respond with isn’t intentional. You drop it right away, but still shake your head in disbelief, defending, “You know I eat up most of the time, especially when you cook. Just today, I can’t do more than this, okay?”

He gulps. Two fingers scratch his ear, eyes once again skimming over empty plates or remnant-filled bowls. He drops his digits back to his thighs, rubbing once more, and then puffs out a breath between rounded lips before he comes to a stand.

And then, all he does is nod; shooting a simple, “Alright.”

His tone is stern. You recognise the expression — his eyes still big, but different now. Usually filled with warm sparkles, they look pissed now. Not because of his dropping lids or the missing crinkles.

Jungkook doesn’t need to move a lot of muscles to look angry; the lack of the glimmer is just enough. 

His lips are shut, not parted as they usually are when he focuses on something like his art or cooking or cleaning up. He’s exhaling and inhaling deeply through his nose, hands working on the dishes, but the fall and rise of his chest…

“You’re mad,” you conclude.

He looks back at you, the corners of his mouth never moving. His tone remains flat as he tries to convince you, “No. All good.”

Straightening his back, he attempts to walk away, hiding away in the kitchen until you’ve fallen asleep. He and you don’t argue too much — the little, couple-y, casual fights aren’t quite fights at all.

But they do end with a short distance until one is ready to approach the other and communicate again. A good strategy to cool your minds. You wouldn’t wanna discuss such a thing right away.

This time, however, you don’t want him to leave.

You pull him back again, holding onto the cotton shirt, and he protests with a loud call of your name and furrowed eyebrows as you insist, “No, you are mad.”

Your hand pushes against the couch, your body lifting, and you look him in the eye with a frustrated crease between your eyebrows. “Kook, I just am not capable of finishing it right now. You’re making a bigger deal out of it than you sho—”

“Yeah. Okay,” he interrupts, feigning acceptance and understanding, “it’s fine.” You scoff; sometimes, he’s truly as moody as you. “Things are different here, it’s fine.”

…What?

The sentence nearly comes out as a whisper as he finally starts walking away, and you only register it when he’s halfway out of the room. He balances the dishes in both hands, and you follow him to the kitchen.

Ask, “What’s different? Where’s here?”

“I work, too, you know? I get tired, too.”

“Jungkook,” you try again, slamming the hand against the counter; the sound’s muffled by a bright green cleaning cloth. “What are you talking about, things are different here?”

“Just.” He doesn’t seem to wanna talk. Carefully, he places the empty stuff in the wash basin, working on finding containers to dump the leftovers in them. “I get tired from working in the city, too, but I guess I grew up differently.”

…Huh.

You wait.

Let him collect his thoughts until he tells you, “In the countryside, you work for food, so you get used to finishing dinner. I know people around here rely on supermarkets, and honestly, I do, too,” his shoulders rise as he shovels the tofu dish into a box, “and I guess that’s why it makes sense why it’s easier for you to leave leftovers.”

Wow. Some statements in this world you live in are genuinely unfair.

You understood each of his words and lectures perfectly, but you still voice a little, “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not being serious.”

“Maybe.”

You blink. Then blink a couple times more. Observe as he closes the boxes and puts them in the fridge with a sigh. And you feel bad, you swear, you do. But that unnecessary turn of events…

“So what, you mean we don’t work for our food, right?” you counter, a hand on your waist. “We might do less physical labour, so that must mean we don’t appreciate what we get, yeah?”

Damn. And what if there’s more to that? What if—

“Or do you think it’s because I’ve always had enough money to not worry?”

Okay. Perhaps a long shot. He didn’t say it, but what if that’s exactly what his thought process was, too?

Your inner panic, invisible on the outside, grows when he doesn’t answer, lips firmly locked as if they didn’t just spew some crisp bullshit. You fold your arms, sucking air through your nose, and then demand, “Apologise.”

And when his eyes lift to yours, you freeze. God, they’re deadly. And his ingenuine laugh even more so as he throws back, “No, you apologise. Especially for assuming things I neither said nor thought of.”

“You were rude. I’m asking you nicely to take it back.”

“As nicely as I cooked for you. World’s in balance again, I guess!”

He throws his hands up, staring at you until he’s passed you by, eyes rolling. His nonchalant, idle movements rile you up more, and you can’t help but participate further in that odd exchange.

“You douchebag,” you call out, shutting the bedroom door as you reach inside, “I’m not a snob. I’d always finish my stuff, you can even ask the cook in my old house. He loved me because I wasn’t a picky eat—”

“Listen,” he interjects again, “I know. It's fine. I’ll sleep,” he points to the bed, “because this tired me out. Just drop it.”

“So you can drop it as you please?”

“Nah, just asking you to rest,” the first word comes out louder than he anticipated, his shrug vexed and vexing. He clears his throat. “And I’m sure you’re tired of this, too.”

You groan.

“And if I want to—”

“It’ll just escalat—”

“Dude, I—”

And once more, he showcases his annoyance when he glares at you from the other side of the bed, shutting you up, blanket already lifted. You anticipate another rude remark, a way of justification or to blurt something he doesn’t mean.

But despite his recent idiocy, you don’t deem him an asshole. Not to you, at least. Which proves right as he takes a breather, one knee hitting the mattress as he finally states—

“Let’s sleep over it, okay?”

The tone still isn’t as peaceful as it could be; you know it’s a tactic to dodge a fight. You might not be on your best domestic side tomorrow yet. But his question is final and his gaze even stricter.

So you reluctantly sigh, eyes still fiery as you breathe, “Fine.”

But it’s not fine. And the turbulent week ahead, filled with chaos for you and peak comedy to others, might just be about to prove it to you.

Tuesday

You chew on your bites until the taste turns bland.

Still distracted from last night’s exchange, you barely register the tart spicy quality of your dinner; a shame because this restaurant is your favourite place to frequent with friends.

Today, you’re toying with your cutlery, catching a glimpse of your grim reflection in the spoon every now and then. Whenever Jungkook’s elbow touches yours, your heart skips a bit, bleeding as much as your eyes want to water.

With how he’s smiling at your friends, appetite never faltering, you could burst into tears — because somewhere inside, you miss him despite the constant proximity.

Perhaps he does, too.

Because you notice when he drifts closer on purpose, casually putting his hand over yours. Seemingly lost in conversations, he rubs his thumb against the soft back of your hand; but when you look at him, you can’t muster a smile just yet.

It’s your ego, your stubbornness. Pieces of you want to stay pissed. You keep your cool, but try to avert your eyes whenever possible.

And when you, obstinate as last night, pull your hand from under his, you register the defeated sigh.

But instead of starting a new topic, he retracts his fingers, putting his arm on his table as he busies his other digits with his meal. When you dare a glance, the pretty curves of his blooming lips tug upwards, listening to Taehyung’s story.

Either hiding the discomfort between you or not feeling it.

Odd, because he’s your constant centre of attention.

“Yeah, I mean. Every job is stressful, you know? But it’s wholesome, too,” Taehyung narrates. You blink the silent pining away, and focus. “Like, one of my patients is an elderly man, a lot weaker than his wife. And she always comes with him, every single time.”

“She just waits for him the entire time?” Jungkook asks.

Next to Taehyung, Eun nods; she’s probably heard the story before.

“I mean, she entertains us, is more like it,” Taehyung explains. “He’s been getting geriatric physiotherapy to regain some strength, so he needs all the motivation he can get. And those two are such… dorks. They bicker all the time.”

You smile. Reminds you of when Jungkook and you first met. Persistent, pointless rivalry.

Perhaps Eun hasn’t heard all of this after all. Because as she cuts her dinner, she asks before stuffing her mouth with a bite, “How so?”

“Like. She’ll tell him to not be a baby and take that last step during gait training.”

From your right, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates like a melody from above, sickeningly sweet and amused. “Sounds like me and you at the gym, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, flicking away stray hair with his forefinger, “Yeah, only because you can lift weights that’d break my arms.”

Another chuckle from the side. Even you smile a little.

Your man is strong, alright — and you’ve always admired it, experienced it a couple dozen times.

You’ve yet to see him work out at a proper gym; the home workout sessions barely count.

Ugh. The violent heartbeat beneath your chest picks up on pace again, and you take a deep breath to calm it just a little.

“Anyway,” Taehyung continues, “then she’ll tease him how the neighbour downstairs has much more flexible legs than he does and he’ll argue how she should’ve married him… and then she tells him that she would’ve if she didn’t love his old ass so much.”

When you giggle, covering your chewing mouth behind your hand, he adds, “I swear! It’s the most standard old couple banter if I’ve ever seen one. Thought that stuff only happens on TV.”

Eun, still busy with the remnants of her meal, doesn’t look up but asks, “So they joke around like that? They don’t get mad at each other or anything?”

“They act like they do. Not a sliver of jealousy or anger in them, though. Insane… and adorable. I guess when you’re married long enough, that’s how relationships turn out. And they should, too, you know?”

Hmm…

You side-eye Jungkook for just a moment, but don’t say anything.

You don’t know what’s written in your future. No clue whether he’s a permanent presence in it, a firm part of your fate or not; you strongly hope for an eternity.

You want to picture him and you grey and old. Wrinkled hands, adorned with blue veins holding each other. Weak smiles and crinkles around his eyes, hidden behind glasses, ever-present.

If he’s your future, you hope to laugh about such fights one day. Hope to let people wonder whether you’re actually furious with each other, veiling unbridled affection behind snarky remarks.

Just… right now, you can’t laugh about it just yet. You still feel oddly offended by his words last night, and it doesn’t help when tonight seems to drift towards a similar ending.

Because as you ask for the bill at the end, Jungkook still pays. You don’t think about it too hard, letting him do, staying seated to finish your drinks.

But your exhaustion reaches a new, entirely unnecessary peak when he starts cracking his fingers. On any other day, you’d put a hand over his, reminding him not to and move on.

Today, you’re in a bad mood, and your demands come out accordingly piqued.

“Stop it.”

“Hm?” he voices, looking at you, the warm light of the restaurant reflecting in his dark brown eyes.

“This,” you point to his fingers, “stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because you know it makes me cringe. A bit annoying.”

Eun, still unaware of the tension between him and you, shrugs her shoulders, “I know that irks a lot of people, but I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Because you do it, too,” Taehyung complains; she mocks him with a sly smirk and a quiet, Yeah, yeah. He adds, “I can’t stand it, either.”

You lift an open palm towards him, nodding, “So you understand.”

“I’ve seen you do it, too,” Eun argues with a light push against his shoulder, “multiple times!”

“But not as often as you. You start and do not stop.”

You immediately agree, “He’s just like that, too!”

To which Jungkook interjects, his voice still calm; but you still hear the growing aggravation in his voice when he starts, “Honestly, I—”

“He actually has a couple habits that are just—”

You blow a raspberry.

Your interruption triggers Jungkook. And your words, admittedly not quite the sweetest, don’t sit well with him, either, because a moment later, he’s leaning forwards again. Looking at you directly before he continues his irritating bone-cracking.

You grit your teeth and repeat, “Stop that.”

“What?” he shoots back. You flinch. “A habit you despise so much, yeah? I don’t get the same intense reaction when I do something nice for you.”

So untrue.

Fucking hell. He’s talking about yesterday again.

You exhale through your nose, possibly resembling a bull ready to attack; Taehyung and Eun shrink in front of you, grimacing at each other. You’d laugh if it wasn’t you trapped in that exasperating back and forth of exchanges.

“Oops,” Eun whispers, yet overshadowed by your words as you defend, “That’s not true.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook says, shrugging a shoulder with an outrageous smirk, “but you never get that angry when I crack them at home.”

“I just don’t say it.”

“Oh? What else do you not say, hm?”

Taehyung dares an attempt, “Guys.”

But you’re too heated, a little stupid, very ridiculous as you spit, “Like, how irritating it is that you smack your lips every other second.”

Jungkook puffs out a breath. Looks to the side, straight into Eun’s direction who sinks a little more. He curls his lower lip in, running his tongue over it, jaw clenched and sharp. If you weren’t so focused on your temper, you’d find it scorching hot.

In a harmless little fight, you’d keep annoying him until he lost it eventually, mounting you and shutting you up in the very tempting Jungkook-esque way he knows.

But not here, not right now.

Instead, he fucks you up further as he sneers, “Right.”

“Or,” you continue, “that you don’t clean up your working space after painting.”

“What?” He furrows his thick eyebrows, ignoring Taehyung’s call of Jungkook’s name. “I mean. You have all your documents scattered on the desk. I might need it, too, y’know?”

“Why don’t you say it then?” you ask, tilting your head with one cocked eyebrow of yours.

“‘Cause I wanna let you work? ‘Cause it’s important for me that you’re able to focus?” He looks away again, tutting; his shoulder moves with his deriding laugh as he mumbles, “The fuck, really.”

Somewhere inside, you feel bad. You know his words are true. But you can’t tell him yet; so you just glare at him.

As silence finally falls upon you, Eun moves towards the table again, glancing between the two of you as she wonders, “What’s wrong with you guys?”

Everything.

“Nothing,” you say.

“…You wanna go?”

You wait. Jungkook doesn’t answer. Looks to the ground. When you don’t respond either, his eyes lift to yours, still big but not as enthusiastic as usual. Intimidating even.

You stay still, so he only voices, “Uh-huh.”

And the couple, enduring your awkward moment, lets you go gladly. You pack up, finishing your drink, and when you leave your table, you notice just how many people were staring at you.

Still are.

You really embarrassed yourself in front of a crowd, huh?

As the daughter of rich parents, owning a huge ass clothing brand, this isn’t something you should’ve done. But you pray and hope that you won’t wake up to a headline, or that journalists won’t interpret your little feud as a reason to break up or some nonsense like that.

Trouble in Heaven, they’d call it. Predictable little cockroaches.

You trudge past the customers with a deep breath in; Jungkook doesn’t seem to care much, because he walks ahead, hands in the pockets of his linen cotton slacks. Doesn’t look around.

Only bids Taehyung and Eun goodbye; tells you to buckle up when the two of you get in your car; curses once or twice when he misses the green light by a second.

And when you’re at home, sighing as the night approaches its end, you shake your head. Unbelievable whatever transpired back at that place. And you thought you were warming up to each other again.

Guess it’s your fault this time.

Which is why you hum when he calls your name, watching you put on your nightwear; bed ready while you still need to take off your makeup.

His question baffles you; more so with the slightly irate tone.

“Will you still give me a good night’s kiss or?”

You roll your eyes. Don’t say anything; grab your skincare products before you get to work.

He sighs once more; you see the shake of his head before you disappear into the bathroom, hear him say, “Whatever.”

But when you come out with a light rosy scent on your skin and jump under your blanket, you still shift towards his slowly drifting body. His arm under his head, eyes closed, lower lip pouting that you target carefully and—

Press the lightest kiss against.

Immediately, you turn around. Imitate his position.

He doesn’t reach out to you as he usually does, pulling you into his arms. But you still feel the petal-soft brush of tender fingers against your arm before the touch retracts again — and eventually, you fall asleep.

WEDNESDAY

The only reason Jungkook accompanied you to the laundromat is because your clothes gathered into a huge mountain. Neglecting your responsibilities at home, you brought two bags, and he insisted on helping you out.

It's late afternoon. Work tired you out, dinner is still pending; you don’t want to be here. And the place is empty; a yawning void. Just you, alone with your tank-top and grey-blue zip up hoodie clad, messy-haired boyfriend.

The retro plastic laundromat seats tired him out, so he’s standing at the far back. His eyes follow the tossing and turning of the clothes in the washing machine, and sometimes, they trail back to you.

And you — you’re sitting in a corner, arms folded, still uncertain whether you should wait for an apology or opt for one yourself.

The distance is childish. You’re way more mature than that.

But your fight is childish, too, and you guess sometimes, even healthy couples fall back into kindergarten routines.

Once the clothes are done and dry, the journey back home approaching, he helps you out. Tramps to you, mutters a little, “Gimme. I’ll take this.”

The bag strap drags his hoodie off his shoulder a little, revealing the flowery tattoo. He doesn’t fix it; lost in thoughts and silent until home. As if he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

In the apartment, he asks, “Dinner or takeout?”

And you, learning and indisputably craving his affection in any shape or form, answer, “We can make dinner.”

“I’ll do it. Get some rest.”

You sigh in relief. There’s solace in your gratitude — today was arduous, much like the preceding days of this week. You bide your time until he’s done, and then help him set the table and clean the kitchen.

The evening passes without any hostility, but ends without many gestures of fondness, too.

THURSDAY

“You don’t need to come, too. I bet you’ve other stuff to do.”

Jungkook adjusts to your steps. He snatched a jacket way too insufficient for the frosty weather, but he won’t hurry if you don’t. Doesn’t stray from your side.

So you walk faster. Then he does, too.

He rubs his nose, shrugs a shoulder and responds, “I’ve nothing much to do today, really.”

“Yeah, but,” you pull at the sleeves of his jacket, urging him to rush through the wind, “you’ll get bored. And I’m a big girl.”

“I know that. But it’ll be fine. Wanna make sure you’re okay, too.”

He nudges your elbow. You can’t pinpoint whether he’s daring an attempt to set things right or is genuinely concerned. Or both. In some way, the tension between you lingers, and you can’t shake off the awkward feeling just yet.

So you only nod, holding off an answer for a moment. Staring ahead, you listen to the soft sounds of the city, blinded by headlights soon passing you by. A bit longer and the first snow will fall.

The consoling feeling of winter days draws closer, feels warm despite the frigid wind. Hot chocolatesque. There’s just something about wool shawls and warm jackets and old, animated Christmas movies.

One thing you miss about living in your parents’ big, fancy house in your very old neighbourhood is the chimney. The soft yellow and orange of the crackling fire, melting the cold over your skin.

Sometimes you’d sit on the fleecy white carpet, protected by a thick, warm turtleneck sweater, watching the dancing flames.

You wonder again — if Jungkook and you are truly written in the stars as one, will you move into a bigger place one day? Save money and expand the comfort of the current apartment, investing in even more soothing walls with a couple little additions.

Not the lush, exaggerated luxury you grew up with. Not necessarily anything snobby.

But casual, domestic things, like a fire side you can sit in front of, drinking tea, slow dancing and giggling in the dark. Lit by the chimney fire; familiarity.

You sigh.

“It’s been long since I went to the dentist, too,” Jungkook then says, and you hum. That’s sudden.

“You should go then.”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes darting from your face to your hands. You unintentionally bury them in the pockets of your jacket the moment he reaches out for you; and when he understands that you didn’t notice, he curls his fingers into fists. “Maybe I can get an appointment now? Do they take walk-ins?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t know.” Then, upon realisation, you laugh a little and say, “I’m not going to the dentist.”

“What?”

“What?” You stare back with eyes as big as his. “Optometrist, Koo.”

His raised eyelids are nothing new. He’s attentive when it comes to you; recognises, notices and remembers every little thing. But you guess he truly has been tired, too.

And you feel bad for not considering it as much as he considered it. The reason he cooked for you in the first place, right?

You press your lips into a line, stare down to a puddle on the ground; an aftermath of the rain.

“Oh,” he makes, “why did I think we were going to— Sorry. My bad.”

In actuality, you did wonder if he knew. He didn’t ask questions when you told him you were leaving; simply announced he was going with. You were pulling socks over your ankles as his rushing form scurried across the room.

You guessed he’d figured it out. But the fact that he was ready to accompany you without a certain clue where you were heading makes you a little giddy.

Clearing your throat, you clarify, “No worries. It’s about that pain in my eyes. Remember?”

You wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t. Preceding your fight by perhaps a couple minutes, you don’t think the tiny statement still holds any relevance to him anymore.

Right?

Wrong.

“Yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course. You thought it was an infection.”

“Mhm,” you hum, ignoring the butterfly wing slamming against your insides, “I’m so sure it’s an infection.” You click your tongue. “Itch first, and now it gives me migraines.”

“Yeah, you told me… But. It’s nothing serious, I just know.”

You look at his sculpted side profile.

You know him. Jungkook doesn’t actually know, of course — that’s not why he’s saying that he does.

But because hope is better than pure uncertainty; and he likes trying to manifest. He believes in little miracles like this. Knocks on wood a lot, tries not to voice potential disasters in case they might actually roll around.

So you take the reassurance. Walk to the clinic in silence. Attempt more small talk in the waiting room until they drench your retina in those odd, blinding eye drops, dilating your pupils.

The brief, quick tests follow; the assistant is young and gentle, and you try your best to be a good patient. She seems to enjoy your temporarily formal behaviour, perfected in the years you grew to be a reputable heir.

You drop it once you’re in the waiting room again, awaiting the final consultation and results.

Jungkook is a restless companion. No matter how irritating, you’re used to the constant swaying and the movements of his legs. One might think he is anxious for you, eyes locking on the head doc’s office door every now and then.

Yet, he wonders, “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” you repeat, breathing out a tiny, amused laugh. “Nah. He’s really nice. And it’s just some eye stuff.”

“Well, eyes are important.”

The words come out quickly, but the last syllable dies gradually.

You smile.

Jungkook sometimes reminisces about a time when he’d hide from relatives or eat lunch at the back of class back in elementary school. He tires out the term introvertness, and you repeatedly retort with a certain ambivertness.

At times, he’s loud, flirty, annoying and confident — gives you a hard time believing that he ever averted a girl’s gaze or hid behind his cousins.

But then… there are moments when you see it.

Like now.

The puffy cheeks, the youthful pout, the big, big eyes flashing to the ground. Unsure what to say, unsure what you’re thinking of him.

Until he gulps, keeping his voice quiet and low as he continues, “Have you ever had a private optometrist?”

Huh. Not a question you expected. You guess starting the week with a discussion about wealth makes him think of such things these days.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat. You can still not see him clearly; his features are blurry, and you squint. “When I was younger. Big, bright places and top notch equipment.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I mean… It's not like usually used equipment, like here, is any worse than theirs. Also, same reason as why I went to a public college. Normalcy, I guess.”

“Odd.”

“…Why?”

“Because,” he draws a sharp breath, staring ahead. “Despite all the normalcy, you’re as extraordinary as can get. Money or not.”

A heartbeat passes. Among the sounds of the quiet chatter around you and the ads in the TV at lowest volume, your breath mingles with the hushed noises like a whisper.

His slowly blinking eyes are genuine, your reflection in his dark brown orbs clear. White dots sparkle like constellations in the sky, bright and plenty. It’s nice that they remind you of the sentimentality in his heart after every single serious or dumb, big or small fight.

For a moment, you keep looking. Your fingers twitch, urging to reach out, but as they start moving off your knee, you hear a call of your name.

Jungkook leans back, clearing his throat, smiles at you as you get to your feet and meet the doctor’s stare, kindly gesturing inside the examination room.

A couple more tests, a friendly conversation, more orders from his side before he gives you a diagnosis and a prescription. 

And when you head out, Jungkook’s still sitting right where you left him. One leg restless again, leaning forwards, arms on his thighs and hands intertwined. His head is hanging between his shoulders; even from afar, you see his lashes move, eyes slowly blinking.

You can’t quite explain it, but you love this point of view — when you can see his parted lips, the lower one pillowy, partly hidden behind his button nose. Cheeks round. You truly do love this watching-from-above-angle.

Even though it clearly suggests he’s bored out of his mind. Beyond done with this place, but still here, waiting for you.

You clutch the strap of your bag again, sighing, and then move towards him with light steps. The back of your fingers reaches out then, brushing against his temple a tiny moment before he detects your shoes and looks up.

“Oh. That was fast,” he says; his eyes are drooping. He had a long morning in the attic. “What did he say?”

He gets off the seat, moving his stiff neck and cracking it a little, hand flashing up to his shoulder. You explain, “I need eye drops. Two to three times a day.”

“Ah. Then we could get them right now.”

You nod, allowing a little smile, telling him as you head out, “My eyes are okay, though. Somehow, my vision has improved, too.”

Jungkook’s lips form an excited Oh, but when he sees your expression, he says, “But you seem bummed about it.”

Ah. Well.

You feel ungrateful thinking that way, but…

“In some way?” you admit. “I’d rather have an infection that can be fixed with antibiotics and won’t come back so easily instead of… you know. Having to constantly rely on eye drops. It just sounds so permanent.”

Another deep sigh; you’re exhausted as well. “And I’ll have to remember to use them.”

“Hmm,” he voices, holding the door open for you. He zips his jacket close as you step out; an immediate breath cloud forming when he exhales. “Set an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah. Just knowing myself…”

“I’ll remind you then.”

The suggestion is immediate, albeit accompanied by a seemingly nonchalant shrug of his shoulder; jacket’s sleeves adorably pulled over his hands.

“Once in the morning. You set an alarm for lunch and then I remind you again when you take your birth control pill at night. Yeah?”

The bitter feeling of the fight vanishes a little; you try to ignore the residual awkwardness, apologies probably still due. But right now, your conversation follows a different path, so you settle on a soft, little, “Thank you, Kook.”

He always does that. Remind you of your meds.

Your vitamins, your pills, that one nose spray hydrating your nose flora to prevent your mucosa from drying out or whatever your ENT doc told you. He did last night, too.

He always does — even if it means forgetting about his own responsibilities.

You blink a couple times, rubbing your eyelids before you admit, “Still hurts. Can barely see… and the streetlamps are so bright?”

“Lemme look.”

He stops in his tracks and you follow; his hand catches your wrist, pulling your fingers away from your eyes, and you turn to him slowly. You’re still attempting to clear your vision, so he orders, “Stop blinking.”

And once you do, he moves in. Takes your face in his already warm hands, staring, squinting, humming. He looks focused, and you raise your eyebrows, waiting for a conclusion until he finally mutters, “Damn.”

“What?”

He seems impressed. Looks a bit longer. You repeat, “What? Are they red? Swollen or something?”

“Nah,” he lets your face go, already stepping back as if dodging your proximity. “But,” he starts; you stare like a puppy, only breaking when he adds, “they’re pretty as fuck.”

Your playful punch rises as if on instinct.

One part of your relationship that never changed was your bicker, starting with annoyance and morphing into frisky, flirty remarks. You consider it the foundation of what makes the two of you a unit.

You grit your teeth, but can’t bite back the smile.

“Dude,” you scold, and he covers his arm instinctively, evading the punch looming over him.

But you don’t deliver it after all, dropping your hand, shaking your head instead. You say, “If you hadn’t helped me survive today, I’d—”

You steer towards him, attempting another scare, and he plays along with a flinch just before he starts laughing again. Hums and nods emphasise his words when he agrees, “You survived like a true champ. A big girl, you said, right?”

“Sure am.”

“Mhm. …My big girl?”

“Gross. Shut up.”

The atmosphere will stay odd for a while. That’s okay, you guess. At least it allows for a bit of amusement, hard to hide as you smile a little, bite your lip.

You lower your head, veiling your beam behind your hair, but you know he sees. Matches your smile — perhaps even a bit brighter than your own.

FRIDAY

The fast approaching weekend usually eases a week’s tension. But considering the mounting workload you tackled today and the endless Saturday you’ll be dealing with very soon, your muscles don’t relax just yet.

Imprisoned behind the bars of work, your thoughts circle around the schedule for tomorrow. In that sense, you come home late and can’t quite bother with the stress that spread throughout the first half of the week.

Jungkook already scarfed down tonight’s dinner, comfortably laying in bed and balancing the laptop on his stomach. From the sound of it, he’s watching videos of various genres.

Sitting on the living room couch and indulging in a short story for just a bit, you hear the enthusiastic voices of chefs rattling down recipes every now and then. It’s a hobby of his, but you can’t help but feel bad.

He studies those YouTube videos to improve his cooking skills, and you, ungratefully, leave the rest of his effort in the goddamn fridge. You sigh.

If you had the energy and will to talk it out, you’d do it now. You couldn’t all day.

He was still asleep when you left, and after work, you went to a brief dinner with a coworker to dash through details for tomorrow. Looking at the plan, you hope for at least a sliver of fun amidst the photoshoot chaos.

When you returned home, Jungkook was gaming right where you’re sitting now. You showered, only to find him back in the bedroom, with his eyes glued to said laptop. And now, as you approach the bed to end the night, he walks past you with falling eyelids.

He rubs them with the back of his tattooed hand, a tired pout on his face contradicting the seemingly badass image that the ink usually gives him. Hard shell, soft core and all.

“Be right ba—,” Jungkook’s hazy voice informs, last syllable broken by a yawn. “Go to bed, okay?”

His palm moves across your upper arm as he passes you by, and you nod, steering towards the inviting, warm mattress. Its surface melts with your body when you drop. God, you’re exhausted; can barely think.

You don’t think it’ll take you particularly long to drift away; and just when your consciousness slips, you feel an arm around you.

A soft hug, enveloping you. He drops his face to yours, lips gently pressing against your cheek for a moment before he adjusts the blanket over the two of you.

A current of warmth courses through your veins, and you draw a deep, long breath of affection when he cuddles into you. He must be thinking you’re asleep but slowly falling out of dreams, because he pulls you in and rubs your arm.

An effective tactic he usually wields to help you fall asleep. 

He puts a leg gently over yours, his body so close to yours that you feel bits of the combustion of your heart.

Because…

Despite your stupid feud, you’re kind of happy that he’s joined you under the thin blanket, pressing more featherlight kisses against your scalp. Sighs against it.

And you can’t withhold the smile when he brushes over your clothed tummy and whispers, “My feisty little girl.” 

SATURDAY

You remember to unclench your jaw.

The stress hardens your muscles. Your limbs are stiff, eyes unblinking until they dry out. Fingers wrapped around your phone, you hold the device firmly, shutting out the telling vibrations of notifications.

This cannot be.

There are a hundred fires burning around you. Erupted chaos causes panic, and in the middle of it are you, clueless and vexed beyond measure.

It’s one thing cancelling a shoot a couple days before it takes place — and another thing to call sick at the very last moment. You didn’t think the model would ditch you like this… but now that he has, you can’t figure out how to replace the missing piece of the shoot.

Your troubled co-workers call out a dozen names, but you don’t say a word, gazing around with a crease between your eyebrows.

This whole thing needs to be out in the open by Friday, and the photographers and editors need time. So, postponing this to Monday and the release of the ads to another weekend won’t work, right?

No.

You’re at the headquarters of this brand. And you’re one of the organisers of this shoot and project. Every single shop will need to postpone if you do.

Unprofessional. Goes against the schedule.

The complaints are still on full blast when you see a calm movement from the corner of your eye. You move your head to the left, peeking through the glass door, and on the other side awaits—

A wide-eyed man, staring inside, observing the tumult like he’s stepped into the jungle. He’s wearing a white shirt, tucked into jeans, long bangs hanging into his eyes and enhancing the sweet gaze so wonderfully.

Pieces of your stress melts — but you still can’t figure out why he’s standing there.

You walk to the door automatically, throwing a tiny smile when he detects you among the staff. A big hand waves in tiny, and you open to let him in.

“Hey,” you greet, pushing back to where you stood before. He follows. “What are you doing here?”

As you come to a stand, he puts a hand on your waist lightly, drawing close to press a kiss to your temple. Then, he responds, “Picking you up?”

“Wh—”

Oh. Shit.

You were going to go out and celebrate the end of the stressful week. He’d suggested it last weekend because he already knew how hectic today would be.

Ughhhh.

You’re terrible.

Jungkook realises your forgetfulness the moment your expression changes into a guilty one. His curious, innocent look drops with his eyebrows, and he sighs when you say, “I’m sorry, Kook.”

When he stares down at his shoes, you feel a wave of shame; the noise around you fades for just a second as he half sullenly, half disappointedly asks, “Really?”

“I swear… It’s not my fault.”

It’s not an excuse; not a lie.

He looks disheartened; knowing him, stupid argument or not, he was probably looking forward to this. Fuck, you feel bad.

Despite his obvious drop in mood, he doesn’t say anything much. Instead, he nods and assures, “It’s fine. What happened?”

You look around again. From afar, you see a coworker approach. She looks hopeful and you take the crumbs, but you still explain, “Everything should be done by now. We got most of the pictures, but… one of the guys bailed on us.”

“Shit, really? What now?”

You shrug your shoulders, once again racking your brain for a solution. People here are counting on you, but it’s not you who brings the very first somewhat reasonable suggestion of today.

Only somewhat reasonable, though.

Because the coworker approaching ogles at Jungkook like a pirate at a treasure, pupils big and wondering as she suddenly says, “Hold. Did you come up with that?”

You blink.

Then ask, “What?”

“You called him here?”

“What?” you repeat, a confused, little parrott.

She rolls her eyes, “He,” she points at Jungkook with a thumb, “is not allowed in here. Usually. So I assumed you called him as a replacement.” She tilts her head. “And he’s freaking perfect!”

Per—

What? No, no, no. That’s absolutely nothing you planned or permitted.

“No?” Instinctively, you take a step to the side, right in front of his broad shoulders as if to protect him from harm. You argue, “He’s not a model. He’s an artist.”

From behind, you hear, “I’m just an artist.”

“Yeah, but,” she throws back, “you’re art, too. I won’t lie.”

Another step back until your back almost touches his chest. His fingertips graze your hip, as a warning before you stumble over his feet. You can imagine the subtle rosy dust on his cheek; he’s fond of compliments.

As everyone is, you suppose. But. 

“Hey, careful,” you tell her, disguising it as a joke, but feeling the lightest burn in your stomach when he laughs at her words.

She raises her pretty lips to a prettier smile, nodding in reassurance as she promises, “Yes, I know he’s taken.”

Another quiet chuckle from behind you, and you cock an eyebrow before he changes the topic and admits, “Seriously, I’m not a model at all and barely know what these things are like…”

To which she waves off his concerns and explains, “Oh, you just need to look good. We’d put some make up and clothes on you, a few pics and we’re done.”

Sounds easy enough. A bit like an insult to actual models, kind of putting those to shame who ran across stages for years to study, internalise and perfect their movements.

But you don’t correct her because you’re desperate, too. And right now, this sounds the easiest.

Still, he murmurs, “I’m not sure.”

“I understand if not,” she says. Her tone changes, fragments of frustration in it. “It’s just that we’re running out of options.”

Once more, you play out the upcoming week mentally. Postponing the last shoot. Postponing the release. Postponing the seasonal launch.

None of this is your fault, but you’d still be the one to get all the wary looks.

As if on cue, Jungkook squeezes your hip, and you look at him with worry painted across your face. You know he sees it immediately, but he still asks, “Is it that bad?”

You nibble at your lip, putting a hand over his as you say, “Yeah. We do need someone.”

“Is that allowed? Can I just replace a guy?”

“I’m technically the boss here, so you’d just need my permission,” you take a breath and then click your tongue, “I mean, usually we’d just reschedule, but we don’t have the time and those shoots already take hours. And in your case, we’d do all the paperwork, contract stuff later.”

“Would it help you?”

He’s considerate. Even in a stressful moment like this, the gentle tone, the deep care makes you weak. The answer’s already clear, but you still tell him, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Again, it… might take up to two hours or so.”

“But it’d help you, babe, wouldn’t it? Unless you don’t want me to. Then I won’t.”

You don’t have a single problem with this; in fact, you’d be happy to put him in front of a camera. His genuine thoughtfulness liquefies you — you’re a puddle at this point.

“Oh, I… Jungko—”

Juri intrudes, “I’m sorry,” carefully, she inches closer, nodding over her shoulder, “Just wanna say that we have a lot of designers in our team. They do logos and make the posters and all. Maybe, if they saw you — because the country already knows you as her artistic man from newspapers — they could teach you some digital art stuff.”

“I…” Jungkook starts. He’s probably thinking the same — which he confirms when he adds, “I’m not sure how me modelling for you might relate to artistic stuff. But I already know a lot about digital art.”

Yeah, exactly. Of course he does; what else did he wade through college for throughout these years?

“But,” she lifts a finger, infinite force in one word already, “have you ever tried expensive equipment and all?”

Oh oh. You feel bad.

Is that the group of society you represent? Maybe you guys are a little pretentious after all, dealing and seducing with money.

But he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t dare to challenge her when he steps next to you and says, “I can do it, but not for that digital art offer.” He puts a hand on your back, rubbing lightly and briefly, “For her.”

You fold your arms under your chest; less to show dominance, but more to press against the butterflies. There’s a type of nausea falling in love elicits, deep in your stomach where everything appears so surreal and beautiful that it makes you oddly sick.

The first time your pupils took on their heart shape was the first moment Jungkook practised that effect on you; made you realise what inevitable emotions he was pulling you into.

That effect has not faltered; your guts still twist.

At least, for a couple minutes.

Because the second your coworker-vultures attack him and drag him to the back room, something changes. Nervousness, you guess. You know the clothes that are awaiting him, but stepping out of makeup and into the spotlight leaves you gasping for air.

From afar, he’s leering at you.

Wearing a snow white shirt, tucked into his pants, priorly tousled hair still messy but styled in curls. Yes, you might know your collection — but you didn’t think it’d fit him like second skin.

Why did you doubt it, though? Jungkook could wear a trash bag and still compete against Adonis.

For a moment, he stands still, entangling his fingers, looking around. Then, he’s smiling in uncertainty, awkwardly putting his hands on his tiny waist, waiting for directions.

Juri tip-toes towards you, as if you’re filming a scene in a drama. She pulls the clipboard to her chest, one digit pointing to your struggling man before she says, “He’s adorable.”

You nod. “I wonder how he’ll do.”

“Well, yeah,” she murmurs, half distracted; but then she averts her eyes from him, looking from your nervous lips up to your furrowed eyebrows before she assures, “Worst case scenario, we’ll postpone. End of story. At least we tried.”

“Hmm… Well, let’s hope it won’t be that case.”

Which, you soon realise, it certainly isn’t.

A couple professional suggestions by the director and Jungkook gets into position. The initial movements of his hands and body are a little strange and awkward, and you can’t help but want to pull him from this chaos and wrap him in a fuzzy blanket.

But the seemingly feigned adorable stance soon shifts into something unexpectedly dangerous when he raises his chin. Thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, he relaxes his body, lips suddenly forming a tempting, slight pout.

He doesn’t usually look like that…

“Wow,” you whisper, faintly registering Juri’s fascinated nod from the side.

This is still a harmless pose, you think; one the director dared him to do. But you’re surprised by the sudden confidence, the way Jungkook doesn’t fumble or stutter or question anything.

Some of his softness shines through the moment the photographer gives a thumbs up, a tattooed hand cracking the fingers of the others. Doe eyes back, he leans forwards as if he could peek at the pictures like that, asking cautiously, “That okay?”

He looks different. Why does he look different?

“That was great! Perfect start. I promise the rest is just as easy,” the team encourages him, asking him to monitor the pictures they just took.

Jungkook walks to the strangers in slow steps, chest behind the tight, white top heaving once. On his way, he looks up to you instinctively, throwing the same thumbs up at you with a questioning gaze.

And you, still baffled, smile.

Watch as he converses with the people, his grin wide when he likes what he sees — an instant confidence boost, though you still see the nervousness in his stance. Where was any of it when they clicked the photos?

As if a demon possessed him for just a minute. Dual and dangerous.

Then again, he’s not very different in your daily life. A celestial soul on some days, catering to your every whim, never letting your feet touch the ground.

And a beast on others, inhaling your sounds like a starving incubus, never heaving your body off the mattress.

The duality doesn’t disappear with this very first outfit.

When some music starts playing and they tell him to move freely, filming the sequences for the ads, your eyeballs nearly fall out of your eyes. And you finally realise why he looks so different now.

Because the moment his thumb touches his lower lip, mimicking a wiping motion (much like he does after kissing you sometimes), you see the silver-plated jewellery glimmering from all the way from the set.

Lip ring.

Whose idea…

“What did you do back there?” you ask, near-panicking, your heart dropping into your panties.

Juri flinches, asking, “What?”

“Is that a lip ring? You gave him a—”

You puff out a breath; it’s immensely difficult to be mad at him like this. He’s been looking…

“Shouldn’t we have?” her tiny voice asks; her body shrinks a little.

“I mean. I just. It wasn’t planned.”

“Yeah, but look how amazing he looks.”

You’re seeing it, alright.

The subtle touches, the light tugging at his shirt. Movements just right. He looks all serious, like a beast, hotter than motherfucking hell. Transports your saliva into your windpipe with each look he sports.

Until you actually feel yourself choking and gagging once he leaves and comes back for the next shoot twenty minutes later.

Because why on Earth did they omit the shirt under the grey blazer?

You’re close to dashing to costume and makeup, confronting them to ask why they chose to toy with your sanity like this. Because… the lip ring is still there. His hair is suddenly slicked back. Fingers adorned with rings.

And he looks so goddamn good.

Maybe it’s your fault. You told them you trusted them, and that they were supposed to do as they pleased. And they are… they so are.

All of him, like a strong magnet, pulls you in, but you keep your feet firmly on your spot, cementing yourself in place. There’s something incredibly attractive about the way he presents himself — new, talented.

You’re fidgety, a sexually frustrated observer when he touches his jacket, pulling it open just a little. The inked hand is veiny; you see it from here, too. The light gesture allows glimpses of his chest.

Small, perked, brown nipples. Lines and ripples of his abs firm. Ending in his V-line, hidden behind the peeking underwear and blue, baggy jeans.

Heavy chains are already menacing when he shuts his eyelids and parts his lips. Worse when he leans forwards, hazy eyes staring into the camera as if he’s about to devour the camerawoman.

Jeon Jungkook is a hazardous danger to society. The world will want him — and he’ll only want you.

Fuck.

You’re drooling. Drowning in your own puddle. Crossing your legs.

And when they tell him to sit, ordering to open the button of his jeans and push it down his hips just a bit, the little yous in your brain wreak havoc.

A fire starts in the organised office of your mind, red sirens blaring, and you look at Juri as you ask, “Why is he naked?! Why’s the blazer off his shoulder?!!”

“Because,” she defends, hiding behind the clipboard; it’s not her fault. That’s what the other model would’ve done, too. “Underwear ads!”

You’re aware. You just didn’t think it’d be Jungkook ending up in this position. Perhaps you didn’t think it through; didn’t know what it’d do to you.

But his effect pools in your lower stomach; so intense, you might cry.

“What the fuck,” you mumble when he takes the jacket off, sitting up and improvising all of a sudden. A hand covers his mouth, the blazer thrown over his shoulder. “What’s the point of holding it? He’s not even wearing it.”

“Because,” she starts again, “we’re focusing on the underwear.” Where’s the focus on the underwear? You can barely see it. Are people plotting against you? “It’s okay.” She pats your shoulder. “No one’s gonna touch him, love.”

You bite your lip. You know.

You aren’t distressed because you’re mad. But because knowing that everybody will crave him and nobody will get him turns you on more.

The fact that you’re the only one he’ll look at with those starry eyes; with the hunger in his gaze. The only one he’ll press into your bed, lips close to your ears, whispering endearments and filthy, little promises.

This man wants you, and you can barely handle that truth.

New thoughts and ideas form in your mind, too wild and desperate to be occurring right in this moment. So you mentally whoosh them away, holding on for the rest of the neverending shoot until a round of genuine applause sounds around the big set.

God. Okay. Hours of torture later, and he’s done.

A shy bow. No. This monster might convince anyone else, but you know he’s not as innocent as he gives himself.

He jogs over to you, says quietly enough for only you to hear, “Don’t tell them, but that was great.” You can imagine. He backs away, looks down to his defined abs, “I need to change. And then we can head home, they said.”

You blink, perplexed and still out of words. Which he struggles to interpret, looking over his shoulder and then back to you. Unsure, he adds, “Unless you need to wrap things up.”

When a random shout echoes through the room, you awake, inhaling deeply before you tell him, “No, I. I mean, yeah, we’ll wrap things up, but that shouldn’t take too long. Should be mostly done when you are.”

He nods. Waves, and then steers towards the others, shaking hands and exchanging smiles. Short convos. Then, to the back room. 

You’re too out of your mind and tired to chat much with staff. You go through the next steps, talk about waiting for the editor to be done with the photos, list the leftover things on your to-do list before the winter launch.

And that’s it. You meet Jungkook at the exit to the hallway, relieved when the end of the day approaches. On your way back home, you converse lightly, though he stops when you yawn one too many times.

He lets you rest as you pass shops and traffic lights, and holds your hand when you get off the vehicle. Drags you up the stairs; the climb is arduous. And then allows you to get ready for your slumber in peace.

The second the back of your head collides with the cold pillow, your eyes drop shut. The world spins behind your tired eyelids, adjusting to the darkness and the silence.

A sigh of relief pushes out of your mouth; a profound sense of tranquillity calms your lit nerves. Jungkook, next to you, seems just as exhausted because the yawn as soon as he slips under the covers is long and tear-inducing.

He’s blinking away the dampness of fatigue when you look over to him; you haven’t talked much since you arrived home, but Jungkook uses the moment to say, “I had a lot more fun than I expected to have.”

You’re so incredibly thankful for his last-minute rescue. But you can’t help but think of the muscles and expressions an hour prior. The seductive gaze, the lip accessory, the ring-clad fingers.

Perhaps it’s because of the time of the month, but you feel vexed by how affected you feel.

You control your tone, though the word still sounds monotone when you say, “Good.”

Catching upon it immediately, he shifts slowly, sniffling and head propping up on his hand before he asks, “Did you not like it?”

“Oh no, I mean,” you start, “you were amazing. I just didn’t know they’d send you out naked for the world to see. Thought the plan was to close a couple buttons.”

“The stylists told me. I think it was a spontaneous change because—”

You glance at him when he hesitates. A sly smile spreads across his features, just a little guilty yet amused as he watches your curiosity grow.

“What?” you ask.

“Nevermind.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“It’s nothing!” he exclaims. “We just thought it’d look cool. I thought you’d like it, too, actually.”

You did. That’s the issue. You liked it enough for it to burn into your mind, and now you can’t shake the image anymore.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him butt naked, buried inside you without a gap between your skin — something about his confidence and eyes stirred an unknown level of desire in you.

But you can’t tell him. Because the thing you want won’t be possible right now. You keep your thoughts veiled.

Instead, you unleash your annoyance because God, you hate him for being so hot.

“Right,” is all you say.

“Hey, don’t worry. Even if they ask, I’m not doing this again.”

“Might make you famous, though,” you mumble.

He snorts, fingers sneaking to your tummy, “So what? That’s not my profession. I didn’t study to become a model. Will work on my actual efforts.”

“Okay.”

The single word forces a sigh out of him, and he shakes his head, tapping his fingers against your stomach as he whispers your name thrice. Like he’s scolding you.

And then, “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you spit without hesitation, “of whom?”

You’re not. And you know that just for the moment, he won’t believe you. Which is fine. You’ll tell him the truth once your period’s over for the month.

“Of people who might see me and like what they see.”

Okay. Jerk.

At this point, he is doing it on purpose. You see it in the cocky smile and the jesting tone and the way his fingertips draw circles over your shirt, itching to sneak underneath the fabric.

You know him.

He’s so annoying.

“No,” you repeat.

“You sure? Huh?” Fuck, not that sulky voice. You close your eyes, but he raises your chin, making your head move. “Look at me, angel.”

“Hmm?”

“You said no, but you do look a little fiery,” he tells you. Yeah, if he knew that the real reason doesn’t lie in envy or whatever the world thinks of him. “What? My girl is jealous of people I won’t even perceive?”

No.

But she does feel the tickling, flattering lust pooling in her lower stomach, Jeon, thank you very much.

“Jungkook,” you start, although breathier when he moves closer, towards your neck. “Don’t be annoying.”

Which triggers a slightly mocking tone; he tuts before he says, “Baby bails on our date today. Won’t eat my food. And then I’m annoying?”

Your answer is immediate and as shameless as can be.

“Yes.”

And it makes him laugh. Hot and sudden against your skin, his breath makes you shiver more than the relentless cold outside ever could.

“Not gonna lie,” he begins, “that brat behaviour isn’t too terrible.”

“Shut the fuck up, you just—”

He just what? You don’t know. Your sentence floats between you when his nose raises your chin, freeing the path to your neck before he’s nuzzling it slowly.

You feel goosebumps at the back of your neck, hair standing up, tingles across your body where you didn’t deem them possible. Under the blanket, your legs shift, and he hurries to move one of his between yours.

Hand still on your shirt, he places a barely-there, soft kiss to your neck; his fine tresses tickle your face and you crumble.

You have long forgotten your unfinished sentence, but he hasn’t. Asks, “What?”

You bury your nails into his arm, intrigued by the little hiss followed by a subtle laugh. Growing in volume when you say, “I kinda hate you right now.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, stretching the second word, “I hate you, too. Absolutely loathe you.”

You silence. Hold onto him when he French kisses between your neck and shoulder. And then breathe, “Then go away.”

“Mhh. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe…”

And then, out of the blue, his teeth dig into your neck like a gentle vampire, stopping immediately when you wince desperately. A hot tongue soothes the bite, a strong hand pushing you down by your shoulder again when your body lifts off the bed just a bit.

He keeps you in place, moving to your jaw. And when you whimper in lust and want, navigating his leg closer to your core, he curses, “Fucking hell, babe.”

Then, he’s inhaling, fingers wandering from your shoulder to your wrist as lips finally clash.

His body moves half onto yours, slowly gauging your reaction to the kiss as if he’s still expecting the burst of cumulated emotions. But when you give into his gesture, granting him your tongue, his face moves further against yours.

Undecided fingers let your wrist go, getting ahold of a patch of your hair. You hold his arms again until you wrap yours around him, fingers on the nape of his neck as you pull him in.

You tilt your heads in unison, deepening the kiss, drinking him up. Let him open your lips with his, keeping them like that, tips of your tongues playing with each other.

His touch drops to your waist and down to your pyjamas, pushing them down a little, grazing your panties. But then, his teasing palm floats up again and settles over one of your tits, squeezing once and drawing a telling moan out of you.

No bra.

He loves your little habits. You live through them casually, never noticing how badly they empty his mind.

Seems your head is blanking just as much at his touches; because you look delirious, lost, breathing in and out heavily. Jungkook basks in the expression, pushing a hand to your neck.

And only when he presses in gently, trapping you in place, do you seem to wake.

Eyes shoot open, and you inhale deeply, as if saved from drowning; remember every bit of today. The lines of his abs. The lip ring. The jewellery on his fingers.

You could ask for him to go on, to wreck you thoroughly. But of all arguments stopping you from doing so, there’s one damn reason that asks to prevent the mess.

Fucking period. Would create a literal bloody chaos. And you’re exhausted.

The thing is — if you asked him, you know he’d give it to you.

He’s reckless and careless. But you can’t risk the state of your sheets and the state of your mind. You have more work to do tomorrow; also, if you continued now, you’d be tired and immobile tomorrow, you know — and you need to be awake for this.

Fully in your senses.

Ugh. Fuck.

And the last damn day of the red waterfall, too. Thinking about it, perhaps that’s the reason for your agitation this week.

In hindsight, you know you’re never bitchy like that — he didn’t give you the nickname of an angel for nothing, right? Fuck PMS. Fuck mood swings.

Your poor boy, enduring the wrath of it.

But maybe you need to act pissed just a bit longer because—

“What?” he asks.

It’s not the time. So you stop him, pushing him away lightly. Shake your head, calling forth a crease between your eyebrows, turning away just a bit.

He falls back, once again keeping his upper body up by his arm. Inquires, “I— are you still mad?”

Truthfully, you answer flatly, “I’m on my period.”

“So?” he answers, laughing until he sees your lips, pressed into a serious line. “I’m not scared of some blood.”

You knew it. He’d give in if you told him to.

But what you want can’t be received during this time of the month. What you want requires unhinged chaos, carelessness, breathlessness. Craze of many minutes, hours.

You want more than a short, cautious session that asks you to peek at the sheets and the towel you’d get every now and then. You want to fucking lose yourself in hi—

“Let’s not,” you answer, your tone nonchalant, “Just. Let’s go to sleep, alright?”

He murmurs your name, trying again; but when you turn on your belly, giving a last sign to end the night, you hear him groan quietly.

You grimace when his head falls onto the pillow with an angry thump, movements under the blanket agitated as he scolds, “My God. Alright. You wanna be pissed for an entire week, then be pissed. I can’t do more than that.”

Oof.

If he only knew. And something in you tells you that he will very soon.

SUNDAY

Too lazy to work through the preparation process in the kitchen, Jungkook and you quietly decide to spend lunch outside.

The café nearby is a place you’ve wanted to visit for quite some time now. And despite the flaky, dry sandwiches they served, you’re glad time passed quickly, the awkward conversations between you coming to an end.

When you return from the bathroom, the sky above looks grey. Desolate. The weather forecast predicted a surprisingly pleasant late fall day, but the approaching rain is obvious. Which, you anticipated more than the weather forecast did, really.

That’s why an umbrella is leaning against the leg of the table, and you grab it as you watch Jungkook fumble with his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He gulps down the last sip of his Matcha Latte, dimples above the corner of his lips as he smacks the taste away. Then, he gets to his feet, asks, “Ready to go?”

Absent-mindedly, you nod, glancing to the sky and then back to him again. He looks sweet and domestic; but you can’t quite take him seriously. Not necessarily because of the fight anymore.

It’s been far too many days to still dwell.

But because of the damn lip ring, the open jacket, the gelled back hair. His destructive expressions. Like he could devour you whole.

Jungkook doesn’t stay angry for a long time, you’ve noticed. He always tells you how his temper used to be worse as a teenager, but how he’s learned to control himself.

Agonies of childhood, relationships and friendships taught him patience. And you notice. You truly notice.

Because he hands you your purse sweetly, immediately stretching his palm towards you. A slight smile spreads across his face, and you respond with a weak one of yours. Take his hand and let him lead you home.

You’ll walk the short distance; it shouldn’t take longer than seven or eight minutes.

And as you approach home, the hand holding yours mimics the motions of the one gripping the umbrella — he brings both arms into swing, somewhat euphoric but casual when he says, “The food was so dry there.”

It’s odd, talking to him like that after several days again. But you nod slowly, and agree, “I know. But at least we know where not to go anymore.”

“Yeah. But I mean, great beverages.”

“The milkshake, too.”

He tugs you a little closer, elbows soon touching, “I still think you should’ve gotten something warmer. You get a cold fast,” he looks up with squinted eyes, “and it’s already chilly today.”

You squeeze his hand as a thank you; Jungkook cares for you in little, subtle ways, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t think of it every now and then. You answer, “I feel fine, though.”

“Okay. Hope that stays.”

His palm, soft in yours, shifts until he’s intertwining his fingers with yours, attempting a stronger grip. You lift your eyes from the ground to his face for a second, meeting a gentle smile, and feel more pieces of your heart split.

They wander through your body, along your arm and straight into his chest, merging with his own organ. If you could, you’d push him against one of the unlit lamp posts, parted lips opting for his, breathing into his mouth.

He infested your thoughts and stuck with you, no way to escape the moment you first fell for him. And somehow, he managed to keep this effect intact, digging deeper into your mind and making himself home every damn second of the day.

The desire you’ve been feeling doesn’t just stem from lip rings and talent behind the camera. But you also keep realising that you’re truly this man’s, and that this man is truly yours.

A hard truth to fathom when you’re the subject of interest to one unique Jeon Jungkook.

But you want all of him. Want him over you, around you, taking all of what no other guy will ever be allowed to touch. Want him to show you once again where you belong and that you’re in this for as long as his affection is aligned with yours.

Fuck. Home is too far away.

So you look away from him. Which he interprets in an entirely wrong way.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, an inquiry out of nowhere that has your eyebrows kissing.

“No,” you answer.

“You barely talk to me. And,” he halts to wipe away a raindrop. Guess the clouds are gathering. “And I miss you.”

Your ribs might break. He keeps doing this to you.

“I’m not mad, Kook. Was just PMS-ing before,” you try again, adding a nickname for good measure.

“You sure?”

Jungkook is a free-spirited soul, careless to a healthy degree most of the time. There are only a few things that break his composure; familial insecurities, shitty pasts — and then there’s you.

Topping his list of priorities, you’re the only aspect in his current life that pushes him into spirals of overthinking.

And right now, he’s in the middle one, requiring a thousand reassurances. You want to answer. You really do.

But the distraction from above proves too strong the second you open your mouth. In the middle of your walk, the clouds explode, roaring for a moment before a downpour suddenly showers onto you.

The raindrops are thick, the bursting clouds aggressive.

Instinctively, Jungkook opens the umbrella, hastily working on it, and once under it, your steps pick up on pace. You wrap an arm around your body, closing the jacket, hooking your other arm with his and pushing the two of you forward.

“Shit,” you say; you look up, but can barely see anything. Only hear the thunder.

The wind grows colder, grazing the skin of your face incessantly. Despite the umbrella, the merciless rain wets your cheeks, singular drops flying towards you. Jungkook’s hair covers his face, and he shakes them off his eyes.

You gasp when a literal newspaper flies past you.

“Come on,” you encourage, already shivering. “We can talk about it at home, okay?”

But surprisingly, incredibly lost in his own head, he doesn’t give in. He adjusts to your pace, holding the umbrella in a strong grip, sighs and argues, “We can talk about it anytime.”

“Not now.”

“But—”

“Kook, right now’s not the time for this.”

Holy shit.

This man is a phenomenon. And you wish he wasn’t serious, but you know that he is. A full-on simp-y fool, no matter what.

“You’ve avoided me all week,” he yells over the sounds of the rain, sniffling, looking at the storm ahead, “we won’t die. It’s just rain.”

“It’s a thunderstorm, you idiot!” you exclaim back, moving straight forward and past running passengers. You should be home soon. “And in a minute we won’t be able to see shit.”

Jungkook must be made of cement. Broad shoulders, a well-trained body and willpower seem to combat the storm when he suddenly halts in his steps.

Immediately, you grab the umbrella, keeping it from nearly flying away; and when you remain the only presence under it, you ogle back. Watch him stand there in his red-white jacket, getting soaked by Mother Nature.

What the fuck.

You rush back, grabbing his wrist, pulling him forward as much as you can as you reprimand, “What the hell are you doing? Come on.”

“You’ll talk to me if I do?”

“Jungkook, we’ll die here, I—”

You flinch and gasp when another strong wind blows, once and for all ripping the umbrella off your hand and making it fly a couple feet from you. You watch it break through the fog of rain, mouth wide open with a dozen curses on your tongue.

“Fuck,” you exclaim, gritting your teeth, “I will. Just please, okay?!”

He’s so annoying. The way he looks at you, breathing hard, white shirt drenched and sticking to his body. You tug at his arm, forcing him to run when you do.

It takes you two entire minutes, wordless as you wish them to be, to reach his street and apartment. You tremble in the hallways, rushing up the stairs, and eventually take a seconds-long breath when you step into the flat.

It’s cold. So cold — and you had your jacket protecting your shirt. Your jeans and hair are soaked, your socks a sponge, soaked in a couple millilitres of water.

But it’s relieving when you take the jacket and your jeans off, pulling out the oversized, wrinkled shirt from under your pants, covering half your thighs. Jungkook slips out of his boots and rushes for a towel, approaching your heaving form at the door to dry your hair.

You quiver for a couple more minutes, fearing an approaching cold after all. But once settled on the couch, indulging in the comfort of thick joggers and a fresh cotton shirt, you sigh.

The silence still holding on only breaks when you drop your head back on the couch. A warm hand sneaks to your cheek, and when you open your eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Warming up…” You lean into the touch, though still irritated by his behaviour before. “Thought it’d rain, but that was a surprise.”

“Yeah.” A pause. And then, “Was a little romantic, too.”

Unbelievable.

You roll your eyes at him, head tilting, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he’s joking. The goofy smile suggests that he is.

“Was it, yeah? You just—”

You click your tongue. Think back to him nearly offering his soul to Zeus just a couple minutes ago. Standing in the heavy rain as if he was the lead character in The Notebook.

“Don’t be mad now. I’m kidding,” he says. His voice isn’t as soft anymore; frustrated when he tries again, “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“Seriously? I told you there’s nothing.”

“Nah, cut that bullshit. You haven’t talked to me or properly touched me all week. I’m trying my fucking best.”

“I know. This isn’t what it’s about,” you defend, shaking your head, getting to your feet, “but about that insane little stunt out there.”

And the fact that he’s been driving you crazy. The week’s distress mixed with whatever he made you feel yesterday; today’s insanity further adding to it.

When he doesn’t speak, you sigh, waving it off, and opt to walk away. But all in vain.

You make it two steps away from the couch before he flashes up, too; filmesque, you gasp at the strong grip around your elbow, getting a tiny second to process the situation before he’s twirled you around.

He probably didn’t intend it, but you nearly clash against him, stupidly losing your balance and stumbling over his and your own feet. You put a hand to your temples, fearing the worst — what if you fall and clash against the corner of your glass table?

But no. In slow motion, he keeps you in his firm hold, preventing the fall, but still letting you gently drop onto the fluffy, white carpet. Your investment. You’re happy about it now because it caught you the way the wooden floor wouldn’t.

Your movements towards the grounds are slow — or at least that’s what they feel like. But when he appears above you, pinning your wrists to the carpet hard, he’s breathless; and you think that maybe the fall didn’t happen as slowly after all.

“Okay,” he says through gritted teeth. From down here, his jaw looks as sharp as a ship’s deck, the Adam’s apple bobbing when he challenges, “You’re gonna fucking tell me what’s going on.”

Oh. He’s mad.

His eyes are burning, jaw flexed. Defined chest rising in anger.

There’s nothing going on. At least nothing that warrants another fight.

But you don’t tell him that just yet. Instead, all your perplexed mind and tongue manage is, “What?”

“I forgave you. We were both shitty that day, you know? But I still did forgive you, and you’re still being like that.” His knuckles must be paling, because his grip is iron hard. “Why?”

“I—”

“I’ll apologise if that’s what you want. I did, actually. I’m sorry, okay? There. But this is just,” fingers squeeze your wrists, and you hiss, “ridiculous.”

Your following grimace, lips twitching, eyes squinting, go through to him immediately. The hold doesn’t hurt or bother you too much, but the leg between your knees does. Jungkook wouldn’t wound you; he knows his limits.

But perhaps he thinks he’s going overboard when he loosens his fingers, pressing his palms against your skin, rubbing to soothe the missing pain.

He doesn’t quite move away, though, still stubborn when you assure once again, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“So you keep saying.”

“I’m not,” you tell him, heart racing at the proximity. You close your legs around his knee, irritated by the barrier. “I promise.”

He doesn’t give your gesture much attention just yet; doesn’t know that his body over yours is exactly what you’ve been craving. But he does understand the sincerity in your voice. Finally.

When he moves closer, pupils melting to fluid gems, you let out an intentional, teeny tiny moan that you’re sure he confuses for a relieved sigh. He moves his palms onto the carpet, caging you in; you keep your wrists where they are, but dig your nails into your skin.

You want to kiss him so badly. You miss him so much.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he demands again, quieter and softer this time.

“I don’t know.”

With the fury evaporating bit by bit, his eyes look bigger and rounder again. The desperation of the week gathers in them and his expression, shooting all the way down to his tongue; and when he whispers to you next, your heart collapses, “Please?”

He’s sweet… so utterly oblivious to your true thoughts.

But you couldn’t feel more embarrassed about the pictures you’ve been painting and the words ghosting in that mind of yours. He’d do all of it, no questions asked. But… fuck.

“This is so dumb,” you answer, fingertips dragging down the carpet and then up to his waist, “like… you’ll laugh.”

The touch encourages him. His arms are shaking now, holding him up in this position for too long, and the wandering fingers along his sides and chest must weaken him like his lines affect you.

“That’s a good thing,” he answers, closer than ever when he balances his weight on his arms now, forearms touching the carpet. “I’d rather laugh than fight.”

But the closeness remains for mere seconds before he pulls back again, sitting up with a groan. Hands on his thighs, he lets himself fall on bended knees. He watches your still helpless body on the floor until you work on getting off the carpet, letting him pull you up when he offers a hand.

You ruffle through your hair, legs folding. Your pout is more directed towards yourself than anyone else; you totally realise you didn’t need to confuse him the way you did. Stupid period.

“Listen, I just…” you start, scraping your scalp.

His knees bump against your legs when he drifts closer; there’s something about the two of you sitting on your living room carpet like this.

“It’s just that I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

And that’s it. That’s literally it.

He halts. His hand was moving up, probably to touch your face, your hair, anything soft to ease the mood. But he cancels the tender gesture, fingers falling back to his knee when he absorbs your words.

Silences with cocked eyebrows. Processes the way you lick your lips and look away, tugging at his wide shirt. And then, once he’s understood, he tsks. Chuckles.

And you, immediately on guard, push lightly against his shoulder, unsurprised when he doesn’t buckle, and defend, “Told you you’d laugh!”

“No, but,” he says, sweet crinkles around his eyes, head tilting and bunny teeth giving way to the prettiest smile in existence, “what are you talking about, hm?”

He knows. If only his feigned innocence was as sweet as his grin, too.

Still, you opt to clarify, “That thing you did yesterday.”

“What thing?”

Ugh.

“The whole modelling thing!” you exclaim, raising your hands. His beam reaches up to his eyes; his occasional giggles are killing you. “Stop. Do you have any clue what you looked like?”

He has the audacity to shrug. “They let me see the pics on their cameras. They’ll come out well.”

“Well? Dude, you looked…”

“What?”

“Dangerous. Like you could eat me up.”

Eat me up might be accurate. It’s the description floating through your little mind since yesterday.

“Ah,” he says, nodding smugly. You know he’s about to tease you. Because— “You specifically, yeah? I was just doing what they told me to.”

“What, is me specifically wrong? Anyone else you’d wanna eat up or—”

“You’re really fixating on that, huh?” Jungkook snickers. His tongue pokes the inside of his right cheek in a brief pause, and then he adds, “You’ve got a point. Didn’t think it’d affect you, though.”

Slowly, but surely, he seems to grasp his own power over you. You think he’s reminiscing about yesterday’s chaos and confidence; maybe even viewing it all from your point of view.

Because his smirk, albeit subtle, is sly when he asks, “What was it like?”

“I…” You click your tongue. “You’ll take me apart if I tell you.”

“Why so?”

“Because.” A beat of silence. You swallow to wet your throat. Then. “I’d ask you to.”

“Ah…” Another understanding nod, as though you’re lecturing him on NASA’s rocket science and he’s finally grasping its meaning. “Yeah?”

“I saw you from afar,” you point into a direction arbitrarily, as if he’s still several feet from you and not mere inches, “and I wanted to,” you inhale when a finger reaches out, straight to a vein in your neck, gentle, exploring, “let you do anything with me that you wanted to.”

“Ohh.” His palm covers your neck, as if he’s coddling you. But you know what that touch will morph into, so you sneak closer to him, lean forwards. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“…Right.”

His thumb moves up and rubs under your jaw, then up your face and to your lower lip. The touch is soft and careful, as though gauging your reaction and searching for permission.

Your shaky, little exhale is nearly unnoticeable, but you know he catches it, and you know he already sees the consent in your eyes. But he still doesn’t lean in. Moves his eyes across your face, to his hand, to your neck and then all the way back to your gaze.

And then, contrasting the loving movements and affectionate gesture, he smiles. Mischief spreads in his stare, and his fingers retreat to the back of your neck, pulling you closer by a miniscule inch.

“So that’s what it was all this time? You’re on your knees for me, is that it?”

“Babe…” You look down, daring a joke. “Quite literally.”

You shuffle in your spot when he laughs quietly, hooking your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. You emphasise, “I mean it. Just… If you must know? I would’ve been okay with handing you all the control, okay? All of it.”

You’re aware you’re acting as though he doesn’t wreck your shit every other time, too. In fact, that’s probably how the two of you started out.

His absolute craze at the frat party, drunk. College nights when you’d confront him about your bullshit — weak excuses to make him press you against his dorm walls. A hand clapped over your mouth, your ass out, dick buried inside until you felt him in your guts—

You’ve always been at his mercy — but you want him to split you in half this time.

“You would’ve?” he repeats. “And now? Still want that?”

You look down again. There’s no shyness in that movement, no averting his beastly eyes — your focus lies elsewhere because you have a theory. Which proves true.

The swelling under his joggers, right there between his legs wasn’t there before.

So you gather your voice, and say, “…Yes.”

“Hmm. Why didn’t you tell me?” His fingernails dig lightly into your skin, and right in the middle of the tension, he pouts for a little moment. “I genuinely thought you were still pissed.”

“I was on my period…” You shrug your shoulders. “It was also late. I was so tired, and—”

He waits.

“I knew that you’d do it if I asked for it.”

“I would’ve.” What’s worse? The confirmation or the tickling breath against your cheek? When did he get so close? “I still would. If you want me to.”

“I just said yes,” you tug at the shirt, eliciting an amused grin as the tips of your noses collide, “you’ll keep asking and,” your heart beats at a million miles a minute, “just not kiss me, is that it?”

Your provocation proves effective just the right amount.

Because he opens his mouth, seemingly snarling — you can’t tell for sure, since his lips clash against yours within half a moment. Determined as his hand immediately flashes to the small of your back, supporting you before you fall backwards on the carpet.

And then he kisses you like a man starved. Like he’s run out of saliva, dehydrated. Seeks your tongue, tastes like earthy Matcha Latte and something you can’t quite define — something that’s so uniquely him.

Your kiss muffles his tiny sound, a mixture of a sigh and a moan, body impatient as he tries to push closer to you, though separated by your clashing knees. You understand — you, too, would let him smother you under his weight if you could.

So you pull your folded legs apart, shifting until they surround him and attempting to straddle him. But he’s plotting something else: his fingers hold your jaw, keeping you in place, and the hot, wet kiss breaks when he pulls away.

You catch a brief glimpse of glistening lips before he moves to trail down your body, leaning in to teeth at your shirt, pushing it off your shoulder and kissing your skin for a fleeting second. And when the shirt shifts back into position, his other hand works on your tits.

Grabs your shirt at its hem, lifting it over your mounds until they’re free, nipples perked, home to him. In a haze, the tip of his tongue touches the right nub, and you shiver.

More so when he whispers, “Am so hard for you, I’ll fucking combust.”

For you.

You’ll repent for how badly you want him in your mouth.

You caress his thigh, sneaking up until you reach the swelling under the fabric. You feel it immediately, firm as a rock, big and fat, so sensitive that he hisses once you touch it.

“No,” he commands, the word barely a breath, “no, no. Don’t or I’ll come like this.”

He says it against your neck. Warm and tickling. You feel goosebumps arise, your reactions slow, but your heart fast. His fingers engulf your wrist, leading your palm to his cheek; you feel the smileless dimple under your thumb when he darts out his tongue to wet his lips.

Then, you close your eyes; the pecks against your neck are exhilarating. The moving touch, down to your tits and then back up to your jaw is one of his favourite games; you move your hips against the carpet, soaked panties sticking against your pussy.

“You’re…” you start, fingers in his fluffy hair as he bites your nipple. You moan, your words shaky, “You’re— more into this today.”

“I mean… after everything you just said to me?” He chuckles, moving up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth brushes yours.

“And I missed her.” Free hand between your thighs, he taps just over your clit; your lips part. “Too crude to say I can’t wait for her to swallow my cock?”

Well. Fuck.

If it wasn’t him, you’d cringe. But it is him, and the truth is that you’re dying for him to press himself onto you. To wrap himself around you, to wrap yourself around him.

You want him to cut you in half, want to be his little toy until you can barely stand.

“Maybe,” you tell him, “but I promise that she wants it, too.”

That’s it, that’s it.

It’s when teeth meet again, the kiss messy, your arms around his neck. He holds you by your waist, pulling you off the floor a little, readjusting his position, so you can climb onto him.

You tilt your head as far as you can, taking him in, drooling, lips and tongue moving wildly to taste all of him. His digits wander from your back to your ass, pushing between your cheeks and pressing against your clenching hole.

The gesture is short lived, but enough for you to rub against him. The urge to rip your panties and part your folds over his girth is profuse; to dampen his length and empty his balls just like this.

But he clenches his jaw, groaning. Halts your movement with a strong grip before pulling at your hair without breaking the kiss. You move your fingers up and down his arm, and then dash it upwards to bury them in his locks, too.

Only, instead of reaching his mane, your hand hits the glass table on your left; you grunt into the kiss and then move away to exclaim, “Ah, fuck.”

Jungkook must’ve heard the sound because he catches on right away, laughing. Gently, he pushes you off his lap, gets back on his knees and then up. He pulls you with him as he says, “Alright. Get on the couch before you hurt yourself.”

“Couch?”

You’re surprised; not the bed this time, is it?

Then again — Jungkook isn’t necessarily picky when it comes to this; cue flashback to bathroom adventures.

So you still listen. Wobbly legs drag you to the sofa, plumping onto it as you watch him follow. The bulge is huge, hotter than hellfire when he palms it and lets go again.

“Too damn lazy to get to the bedroom,” he declares before dropping back on his knees.

You thought he’d climb over you, push you back across the length of the couch. But instead, he seems satisfied with your helpless position, pushing back the carpet and table some to take a seat right in front of you.

You admire his patience — the outline of his cock presses against its confines. Does it not hurt? His expression doesn’t reveal any discomfort as he adjusts against the hard floor; the carpet barely provides any relief.

But the discomfort doesn’t redirect his focus, his touch heading towards you, urging you to remove your joggers at turtle’s pace. He throws them over his shoulder and onto the table, one leg of them dangling off of it.

Left in your panties, you watch his hands curl under your knees, freeing his way to where you want to ache. Lifts your legs, places them on his shoulders carefully, amused and delighted when your bent limbs drag him closer to your cunt.

His tenacious tongue peeks between his teeth, and he fondles your thighs before he reaches the hem of your panties. They bug him — separate your heat from his mouth; in this moment, a crime to him.

“Help me here real quick,” he whispers, and you raise your ass, letting him drag the underwear off of you.

It sticks to your pussy for a second, obscenely flooded with your gradually building arousal. You think he sees, because he halts for a second, eyes flitting up to you before he says, “I think this’ll be fun.”

“You promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Well…

You shrug your shoulders, but smile tellingly, eliciting a smirk that decorates his gorgeous face, closing in bit by bit. The cool air evaporates the nearer he draws, replaced by his hot breath.

And then… just to test…

He darts out his tongue, the sharp tip of it tickling your clit. Your reaction, much desired, stirs a new type of appetite in him. Because your chin trembles just once, just for a moment. Lashes flutter, and his heart skips a beat.

As he inhales, but never exhales, you question, “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures, blowing against your sex, “just. So very pretty.”

You look down at him. His shoulders look broader from here. Muscular, hair dark and silky. His lips are colourful, handsome, nose ready to bury in your pelvis. If he thinks you’re pretty, then he’s the definition of true aesthetic.

Slowly, you reach for his hair, brushing through it before you bring his head closer to you, hinting at the obvious, and say, “And you.”

“Not like you, though…”

He waits, allowing the both of you a moment of preparation.

And then… he’s kissing your pussy. Lightly at first, up and down, a hand on your inner thigh that moves closer and closer to your folds.

He sighs once before a digit parts your nether lips sticking together, and then licks a stripe between them. You whine quietly; his eyes close. He’s beautiful like this; in a minute, he’ll look at you again, mouth swollen, and you’ll wish for his touch to last and last and last…

“Please,” you only whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, his sweet kisses turn into something more. Way more wetness, way more tongue. And before you know it, he’s splitting your legs wider, pushing in to start devouring you.

Your moans are intoxicating. They’re sudden, but not surprising, voiced against the ceiling when your head falls back. The heels of your feet dig into his back, pushing him closer when his knees are already touching the couch.

The movements of his mouth are warm, a waterfall. He eats you out until he’s slurping, drenching you further. He’ll slide in effortlessly, you already know. Will bury every single inch of himself inside you, fill you up for the rest of the day.

And your high — it builds up embarrassingly fast. Perhaps because it’s been a while; or maybe because it’s Jeon Jungkook you’re dealing with. Either way, your lower stomach aches, the knot pressing against your guts.

“Kookie,” you murmur, yet again left without an answer.

He knows not to break his focus this time; knows that you’re close, recognises it in your grip around the patch of his hair. Hears it in your desperate whimpers, louder by the second. Words more unintelligible now.

Your thigh is twitching every now and then, quivering, and he takes it as a sign to keep sucking and swirling. Then flicks his wet muscle over your engorged clit, adding to your exclaims when his nimble fingers glide into you swiftly.

Too swiftly. Two of them are barely enough; and he adds a third. Your cheeks heat up, body sliding down — partly because you’re dying inside, partly because he’s pulling you towards him.

Jungkook knows how to navigate your body, how to direct you towards a rationality-breaking explosion. And he does. He does with the plethora of lustful licks, softly circling around your clit. His nose presses against it every time he shifts downwards, tasting you thoroughly.

“I’m almost—” you voice, and he hums, vibrations torture.

It’s a game to him that he’s skilled at; he understands his moves, and he never loses. Neither today as he clamps his hand onto your waist, fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and digging, massaging your favourite spot.

They turn and twist, two fingers of his free hand settling around your clit and raising it for better access.

It takes probably half a minute longer… and then… then…

Your voice grows in pitch, nearly illegal for a Sunday afternoon, but music to his ears. So genuine and sweet. Corners of your eyes glistening. He holds your legs apart as you start begging, but all he truly makes out is the eager repetition of his name.

He wishes your shirt didn’t cover your upper body; wishes he could see the heaving of your chest, the perked nipples, the sweat on your clavicles.

But for now, this is enough.

The way he sees waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes rolled back, not looking at him anymore. Your lips are dry, your tongue probably, too, and he wants to kiss it wet again.

You moan and wince and keen, body restless. The tug of his hair becomes more prominent and palpable, but the sensation makes him smile. You’re probably barely noticing, too.

That is, until your hold and breathing finally calm down. You keep riding the wave, your head turning in odd circle-ish shapes. He kisses your pussy, helping you through it, only stopping when you open your eyes.

“Well, that was…” he says, lips as swollen as you anticipated, shimmering, “a good start.”

“Every single time,” you begin, panting, shaking your head. You watch him as he gets on his feet, moving in to your mouth. “Every single time I think it can’t get better, and then I remember it’s just the fucking beginning.”

He shifts to you slowly, grazing your lips, and declares with a soft smile, “More to come, I promise. Gonna have so much fun with you.”

“Do your worst—”

One more kiss. Shorter this time, but you recognise the familiar, lingering taste immediately. Neutral, not too bad. Fills you with pride, because he never fails to guarantee that he loves it.

But you can’t wallow in it because he retreats quickly, impatient hands freeing his golden body from his clothes. The shirt falls somewhere next to the carpet, his own joggers soon discarded, landing on top of yours and sliding to the ground together.

He’s a menace when he climbs onto the couch, knees digging in and creating a shift on each side of your body. His bulge, still hidden behind his boxers, floats in front of your face; from this close, you see the droplet of precum darken a spot of the light purple cotton.

“Next stage?” he wonders above you, stroking your hair gently, as if he’s not about to explore the back of your throat. “Want or do I rather not?”

“What do you mean with not?” Your breathing is heavy as you lift your palm and engulf the imprint of his dick. He flinches, hips moving back a bit before they come back. “Get this shit off.”

He chuckles. Brings his hand to your cheek, thumb caressing it and voice clear when he says, “You’re so cute. Being demanding and all.”

But he still listens. Gets off the couch, slides his underwear off, leaves you gaping.

Gaping at the hooked and girthy tower. Gaping at how the slit on top of his head glimmers. Gaping at the moles along the stiff length, staring at the thick veins, at the full, firm balls.

“Tongue out,” he orders; you do.

The ink-free hand pushes his dick down to you, tapping it against your tongue as you open up wide. He feels heavy, hot, the skin smooth. Your head moves forward to swallow more, but he pulls back.

Strokes himself for a couple seconds, thumb spreading the precum over his head. You drool. Watch attentively, as though you’re learning — until he eventually guides it back to you and positions it into your still gaping mouth.

Enters it slowly. Slightly salty. Then says, “Breathe. And don’t overthink it too much.”

Huh.

Well. Damn.

Because…

At times, you do worry about your expressions; about your tears when you gag around him, the coughing fits you get in the middle of it all. So that’s a surprise. Attentive. 

But your mind is blank today anyway; so you nod, moving to lick the underside of the tip, and he laughs, mumbling, “Alright. Have it, babe.”

And you do.

Slowly at first, cautious as you twirl your tongue around him. You don’t notice much discomfort just yet, thankful that he’s easing you into this. A third of his length buried inside, you close your lips around him and hollow your cheeks.

Which is probably when the invisible threads holding him back finally break.

“Okay,” he says, “you got this.”

His knees move in, more inches intruding. His fingers drift to the back of your head, and you dig yours in his brawny thighs. He grows harder in your mouth, impossibly bigger the more you drag your lips along his member.

How gratifying. You’ve craved this for hours and days. What was your argument about again?

Your head drops further back when he shoves himself inside, more and more as time passes. You imitate his prior advances — hum and close your eyes. Bring a hand to the base of his cock, pumping all that you won’t be choking around.

When you gaze up at him to analyse his reactions, he leaves your mind vacant. Because his head is raised, like yours, jawline edged and acute. Mouth open until he meets your eyes.

You hope he’s seeing something just as lascivious and mind-numbing from his perspective. Maybe messy hair, laying against the softness of your shirt. Or a cock appearing out of and disappearing behind pretty lips.

Slowly blinking eyes that shut just as slowly again, and a tongue that falls out and licks along a vein whenever your head moves to the side. Allowing you a couple deep breaths.

He must be perceiving it all, too.

Because a moment later, he gnarls, like a wild animal, and states, “This won’t do—”

—Before putting both hands under your ears, holding your head and…

Ramming his cock into your mouth.

You gasp around him, taken aback and delighted at once. Feel the effect between your legs, hoping to not defile the couch too much.

Head still thrown back, falling further, you already feel the ache in the back of your neck. Your attempts of holding onto the couch prove futile because there is nothing to hold onto, armrests too far away; so you return to his thighs.

But he keeps your body steady, held at the spot between his legs. Your head is a different story: it bounces back and forth, the exhales through your nose frantic as he pounds into your throat before he slows down again.

“Good, gooood,” he drags out, observing the glistening veins as he draws back to his tip and then moves in again. “Doing very, very well. Looks so gorgeous, baby.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about — about you, his cock, the position. Everything? 

He keeps up the gentler pace, allowing you a break. Allowing himself the pleasure of this very image. Pretty lips surrounding a pretty dick.

And perhaps your desperate, little moans, accompanied by rapid blinking, set a fuse loose in his brain.

Because a moment later, Jungkook dares a step further — cock already stuffing your entire mouth, he pushes in more. The fat monstrosity reaches far, your gag reflex not as much at bay anymore as before.

The view seems to spur him on, though, and you can imagine why. If you were him, you’d probably enjoy the drooling mess under him, too. Salivating all over his dick, you feel the gross drop of your spit land on your clavicle, throat constricting as he thrusts in.

And just when you’re about to tap his thighs — very reluctantly, too — to catch your breath, he pulls back, fingers immediately digging into your cheeks to straighten your neck and head. You cough, eyes teary, your breathing quick and uncontrolled.

Like a toy, he moves your head to the left, to the right, a sly smirk playing around his lips until he moves down to you, back arched. Amidst your panting, he presses a brief kiss to your mouth, slippery against the dampness.

And then he says, as casually as he shouldn’t, “You’d look so beautiful in leashes.”

“…What?”

But he ignores your mumbled inquiry, instead thumbing at your lower lip. His dark eyes flit from one facial feature to another, pink lip caught between his teeth. The firm chest rises dangerously when he breathes in.

“Should I come in your mouth?” he asks as if you’d ever say no; as if you don’t know that he’s asking because he won’t. “Huh? Shoot it all the way down your throat?”

“Do it, fucking coward.”

…And just like that, he moves back.

tumblr is cruel and the 1k block limit in the new editor won't let me post the entire thing at once lol so here's the rest in a reblog!!! <3