Ex-things - M.yg.

ex-things - m.yg.

genre: angst (after breakup!) (4.8k)

summary: over the years, everything you've owned has belonged to yoongi and everything yoongi's owned has belonged to you but when you break up, everything is your's and everything is his but none of it belongs to the two of you anymore and both of you can't stand it.

masterlist

-

“scarf,” you say as soon as yoongi appears at the door, you fail to hide your smile when he throws his head back in exasperation and throws the door open.

you push past him and enter his apartment which looked…exactly the same.

but then again, you did just break up some ten minutes ago so, of course, it would be the same.

you don’t know why you expected the universe to shift just because your heart was broken.

and as you throw back the cushions on his sofa, push the things on his coffee table, look under the sofa and table, and walk past him to check the coat rack and then the kitchen, you feel his piercing gaze following your every step.

you knew where it was.

it was in your bedroom.

or well, his bedroom now.

“can you hurry the fuck up?” he groans and in that second, you eye the black plastic cover filled with two or three soju bottles sitting on his kitchen counter.

you swallow and yell back, “can you just let me look for my scarf in peace?”

another groan.

a stomp on the floor.

“fuck, i’ll mail it to you,” yoongi makes his way into the kitchen with loud steps and you arch your eyebrow at him, then look towards the green bottles shining on his counter, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and spits out, “i was going to drink today before anything ever happened, don’t feel too special.”

“really?” you muse, clinking them against each other, and in the next second, yoongi’s hand is wrapped around your wrist and he’s pulling you, gently, towards the door.

“i’ll send it when i find it,” he murmurs as he pushes your coat, your car keys, and your phone into your hands, and you don’t say anything for a while.

you clutch your belongings and stand by the door until you notice how yoongi's eyes are bloodshot, their usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. his shoulders rounded with an invisible weight, and you feel guilty for leaving.

“a-are you okay?” you ask, it feels stupid to ask because you know, you were the same as him.

he laughs bitterly and throws you a glare, you notice how his hands tremble beside his body, and you look away to save him and yourself from the pain of asking again.

“i just broke up with my girlfriend of three years, so yeah, i’m doing fantastic,” he breathes out, you wonder if it pains him like it’s paining you to hear his words, “now, can you leave?” yoongi gestures towards the door again.

you sigh, “wait a minute,” and enter your his home again.

“what now?” he throws his hands in the air and stomps after you.

he watches you grab the scarf from under his bed, he turns his eyes away when he sees your hands shaking while holding it, “did you know where it was?” yoongi breathes out, his face and voice in disbelief.

you don’t say anything again.

and when you leave, he pours himself glass over glass to forget the trembling of your jaw and how you paced around the apartment while knowing exactly where you kept the scarf.

he laughs again, the sound is strange, rough, and just wrong without your laugh chiming with him.

he pours himself a glass again.

-

it’s been a week.

“hi,” you say as yoongi walks into his house, he jumps a little, clutching his chest as his eyes widen to look for you.

you raise a hand to wiggle your fingers at him as a ‘hello, hi, ex-boyfriend, you’re back at your home and so am i!’ and yoongi blinks.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

“oh, i was loo-“

“wait wait, how did you even get in?” yoongi frantically marched to his front door and twisted the knob to check for any damages and you roll your eyes.

“i found your key under the potted plant. speaking of which, do you want to get robbed or something, why would you even put it there?” you throw your hands in the air as you sip tea, grimacing as the strange, bitter taste of yoongi’s favorite green tea spreads in your mouth.

“first of all, stop drinking my tea, you don’t even like it” you put the cup down with a sheepish smile and fold your hands on the table.

“and second of all, i didn’t think i had to worry about any ex-girlfriends breaking in, my bad,” yoongi complains loudly and you press your palms to your ears, shaking your head, “i’m not even here to see you, i’m here for…well, i’m here for,” you struggle to finish the sentence.

and yoongi glares at you.

“what is it?” as he moves his head to pin his glare on you, his soft, freshly straightened hair moves with him.

“straightener!” you say loudly, clapping your hands, and yoongi’s eyebrows narrow again, “you’re going to get wrinkles, yoongi.” you point at his eyebrows but he doesn’t let up, you’re sure that his eyebrows furrowed deeper.

“okay! i’ll be on my way once i get that,” you wander off into his bedroom and yoongi throws his head back in exasperation.

your straightener is easy to find because well, it’s not yours, it’s his and it’s just sitting on his vanity but yoongi doesn’t bat an eye at that.

he only watches you move around his home with his arms crossed on his chest and an unreadable satisfaction on his face.

and when you leave, you can’t help but notice that for all his annoyance, he never tells you to not come back, and he never tells you to find everything you own and leave at once.

with that knowledge, you leave his home with the biggest grin on your face.

-

“you need to get out before my booty call gets here,” you happily eat your ice cream on the kitchen counter as yoongi walks into your home as if he owned it.

did you mention that he was the one to bring you ice cream?

your favorite too, one scoop of hazelnut and one scoop of brownie.

“ha ha, very funny, you should start thinking of a career in stand-up” he responds with a roll of his eyes and you giggle even more, sliding down to catch up with his pace around your home.

“what are you here for?”

“t-shirt, you know the one you stole,” yoongi shrugs and glares again, walking right into your room and you follow with hands closed behind your back, “which one?” you muse as you remember all the (10) t-shirts you’ve stolen from him.

he looks back as he nears the closet, eyes narrowing at you, “how many do you have?”

“how many can you remember that i have?”

yoongi groaned in sheer frustration and you crawled on your bed, watching him pick apart your closet, and glaring at you whenever he found one of his t-shirts in there.

for a moment, it was amusing.

it was the funniest thing to watch yoongi get annoyed, you always enjoyed it.

but in the next moment, when he was around his fifth t-shirt, you felt this ache slowly develop in your chest and spread across your throat and then your mouth, then it was everywhere.

it was this dull throbbing that you couldn’t shake and your eyes dropped to fiddle with your fingers instead of looking at him, collecting his belongings from your home.

because, just two weeks ago, it had been your t-shirts too, hadn’t they? and it wasn’t just your home then, it was yours and his, wasn’t it? sure, you had separate apartments but it never felt like that, it felt like you had two homes and both homes belonged to both of you.

and now, you only had one.

you had wrapped your arms around his back when he was in your room two weeks ago, he was here now but you couldn’t even touch a hair on his head without feeling like you’ve crossed a line.

your head was starting to collect the ache and make a home for it so you ask, “are you almost done?”

you didn’t mean to ask him that, you actually very, very badly wanted yoongi never to leave so you could believe again, ‘i have two homes, i have two toothbrushes, two mugs, two keys, two doors, and two of everything’ but yoongi pauses, he collects the t-shirts he found and nods, “yeah, i’m done.”

when he walks out of your room, the ache finally takes over your head and you follow him with dazed eyes and stumbling feet.

at the door, yoongi stops, he turns around with concern brimming in his eyes and that is enough for your hands to shake again, “you good?”

“i just broke up with my boyfriend of three years, so yeah, i’m doing fantastic,” you deepen your voice to mimic his and yoongi shakes his head with a small laugh, “you better be okay,” he says at the end, and his voice is so soft, it feels like cotton pressed into your cheeks.

and you nod because if yoongi says you have to be okay, you’ll find a way to be okay.

but when he leaves, you are back to having just one home, with one toothbrush in the bathroom, one mug in the kitchen, one set of keys in your purse, one door, and one of everything else.

and you’re sorry to yoongi.

because you don’t know if you can be okay.

-

a couple days passed again.

you had an angry yoongi pacing in front of you as you watched.

“you’re being ridiculous,” yoongi shoves a hand through his hair, glaring at you as you sit with arms across your chest and refusing to look at him.

“i’m not,” you huff out and he rolls his eyes.

he did that a lot.

he did that a lot with you.

“i didn’t steal your plushie, are you fucking kidding me?” yoongi whines and walks away into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

you follow him and right at the doorway, you don’t enter, you just watch his even more sunken eyes and even more rounded shoulders with conflicted eyes.

a part of you wanted to hug him.

a part of you wouldn’t mind killing him.

a part of you wanted to kiss his shoulders to lift them.

a part of you wanted to leave a red mark on his face.

but all parts of you, you couldn’t trust or believe.

these past few days, you couldn’t trust or believe anything actually.

yoongi senses your eyes on him, he knows how you look at him and how you seem to show so much with just a gaze but he holds strong.

you were broken up.

you shouldn’t be here.

hell, he’s not sure if he should be here or not either.

but he betrays himself over and over again, he lets you into his house and you let him into yours, and he feels ridiculous every time he closes your door, he’s not sure what you feel when you close his.

“i threw it away,” he shrugs his shoulders, eye muscles tensing oddly, he’s not sure if you notice or not.

“what?” your whisper is so quiet, yoongi wouldn’t have known you were speaking if he didn’t see your lips moving.

“i threw it, okay? there was no use of it being around here anymore, so i fucking threw it away,” he didn’t mean for his voice to be loud, and he didn’t mean for his words to hurt but maybe he did, maybe he wanted to hurt you.

but he loves you?

but he’s also okay with hurting you.

to an extent.

yoongi had never understood why he couldn’t love properly, why his love for others and himself had to hold a touch of pain, a touch of misery, but it was always out of his control.

it had been different with you.

for a while, that is.

but he was back to his roots now, pain and misery and love and affection held his hands and danced around him.

and he had to dance with them too.

“i threw it,” he repeated, but your plushie was tucked into his pillows, into his sleep, and into his days and nights.

it was stained with salty tears now, it was stained with the ice cream he ate after he left your home, and he didn’t want you to see it.

for a moment, you both didn’t even twitch in the wrong direction, yoongi watched the dark liquid in his cup with growing intensity and you waited for him to tell you that your plushie was safe.

“fine,” you sniffled, grabbing your coat and stomping to the door and yoongi followed, he tried not to but his feet walked ahead of his mind.

at the door, you angrily shoved your feet into your sneakers and pushed your hair out of your face, as if to prove that you weren’t crying, that you weren’t affected and anyone else would believe you.

but yoongi knows you.

and he knows your red nose and cheeks can only mean one thing.

before you close his door, you say, “you’re a horrible person, yoongi.”

he thinks he knows what you feel when you close his door now.

hatred.

-

you swore to yourself that that would be the last time you turn up at his place, but you had genuinely forgotten something there and needed it this time, so you swallowed your pride and rang his doorbell.

you don’t greet him when he opens the door and yoongi feels like he could fall to his knees when you shove a bag with his favorite ice cream, matcha, and coffee (he’s a caffeine guy, he runs on it), into his hands and yoongi knows he’s forgiven.

“i forgot my trousers here,” you mumble afterward and head straight into his closet to dig through for the work trousers that you cannot live without.

yoongi doesn’t dare to utter a word, he looks through his closet beside you and apologizes when his skin touches yours in any little way.

you can’t believe there was a time when you would touch him as if his body was yours too and he would touch you the same. but his apologies just dug the truth deeper into your skin, which was that you didn’t belong to him, and he didn’t belong to you.

so, you nod, you bear your cheeks heating up and thighs going weak, and just look through his neatly organized piles of clothes too.

he used to organize your stuff too, he used to section them, fold them, and keep them neatly by his clothes.

that’s how you find your trousers, crisp folds, and fresh-smelling, right beside his work clothes.

and your heart squeezes as you pull it out.

the folds loosen, the trousers limp in your hands, and that small change in its structure, makes you think of yoongi and everything that fell apart with him.

when you leave that day, you pause at the door and whisper, “you’re not horrible, yoongi, but maybe i am, maybe i ruined everything, but please don’t hate me.”

before he can catch you and wipe your tears and tell you that you were right last time, he was the horrible one, he was the one who texted late, who came home late, who missed birthdays, but you were already running away and he was left with a lit cigarette burning his throat.

-

“i swear, it was here,” yoongi shifts the things around your closet, head buried deep in shelves and racks of clothes and shoes, you stand at the doorway with your arms crossed against your chest, trying not to roll your eyes.

“and you have a million other headphones, so i don’t understand why you would need to find this one,” you step into the room and lazily move things around to try and find it too, yoongi scoffs from a few feet away, “it was special to me,” he says and turns his back to you again.

“why?”

“my grandfather gave it to me,” yoongi huffs, and his hands stay busy.

but.

“your grandfather died when you were five,” there was no way his grandpa gave it to him and you know you’ve caught him.

he could’ve at least tried harder with his lies.

it was strange, seeing him here, standing in your bedroom, surrounded by things that no longer belonged to both of you.

you don’t think you’ll ever get over that feeling of loss.

the moisturizer you would’ve shared with him.

the cheap wig that he would wear to make you laugh.

the razor that you would hide to annoy him.

they only belonged to you now.

though you don’t bring up his grandfather to drive him away, you only say it because it was hard for you to understand why he was here, looking for headphones that he could buy tens of pairs of.

he pauses, you wait for him to say something else, or lie about a friend who didn’t exist who gave it to him, lie about his dad giving it to him.

but yoongi doesn’t say anything.

he keeps looking.

you refused to keep anything that touched you in the last three years.

well, except for some things.

“yoongi,” you call out, pointing towards the unopened box in your closet and he turns his head that way, quickly walking over to it and flipping it upside down.

the photo album that carried your first anniversary.

the promise ring that he gave you on your second anniversary.

the matching couple t-shirt which he cringed at but wore whenever he could.

the.

the.

the.

so many the’s and so many first’s and second’s of things that you kept, though ‘kept’ was the wrong word, you treasured these things, you loved them.

and all of them fell on the floor with noise that shook your ears and chest, not because of the volume but because it was like you were pouring your heart in front of him.

but you loved them in the past, you liked to think that you did and you were in the present now, watching yoongi eye the things you gathered without his knowledge.

and all of it was only yours now.

“when did you keep this here?” he asks, and you immediately know he’s asking about the simple diamond ring that everyone thought was your engagement ring.

but it was just a promise ring.

and you removed it when, “that day you didn’t come for my birthday,” you mumbled, picking up the things and putting them back where they belonged.

buried inside a box.

shoved into a closet.

but before, you pull out his headphones from the box and hang it over your head for him to take.

when he takes it, his fingers touch the smallest part of your palm and your eyes gather tears as if rivers were breaking a dam in them.

yoongi stands without saying a word for a long time but then he walks to the door, “you’re not going to close your door?”

you’re not coming to see me off?

you get up unwillingly and walk to the door without sneaking another glance at him and drop the ring into his palm, “bye, yoongi.”

his hands tighten around the band of platinum.

both of you look at the dangly, worn-out wires of his headphones that hang from his other hand.

you had given them to him for your first anniversary.

not his dead grandpa or dad or friend.

it was you.

and both of you refused to acknowledge that fact.

and when yoongi finally leaves, he leaves behind a space in the air that waits for him to come back and take his place again, in your life, in your home, in your space.

but he doesn’t turn back.

and you close the door, letting the space remain.

-

a few days went by again.

neither of you showed up at each other’s doors anymore.

neither of you had anything left to collect.

neither of you had anything that belonged to the other.

and it was strange, the quiet, the loneliness that crept on your back and it always hit at the most unexpected of times.

when you poured your cereal in the morning, you realized you were holding the box that you had bought while grocery shopping with yoongi, it was your favorite time of the month, the one time you could really feel that he was your person.

but the box was empty by the end of your breakfast and you kept it back in the cabinet.

when you arranged your clothes, you saw your messy folding and fell back on the pile of clothes that still needed folding.

how yoongi did this every day, you had no clue.

but as you lay in pieces of cotton, linens, satins, sequins, and many more materials that hugged and pinched you, you couldn’t help but think that surely, yoongi wouldn’t leave you like this, there has to be something of his that you still own.

there has to be something.

so, you got up and with renewed desperate energy, you started searching.

you pulled upon every desk, every closet door, every nook and cranny, you searched with shaking hands and watery eyes.

“there has to be something, there has to be,” you whispered to yourself, your voice choking as things fall over from the tall walls, they fall on your feet, and your toes, and a sharp pain hits you every single time, but you push through.

because.

there has to be something.

you can’t end it like this.

you and yoongi cannot end like this.

anyone else can.

but not you, not him and you.

and the closets you look through stay ajar, the desks you’ve emptied stay tipped over, and everything you own is on the floor.

but there is none of yoongi in any of it.

so, you sink.

you sink to your knees, sobbing and flipping over items as you reach them.

because goddamit, there has to be something.

when the bell first rings, you don’t register it, you are way too intent on the clutter in front of you.

but then it rings.

and rings.

and rings, again and again.

relentless.

and you push yourself up, hoping it’s no one you know because you don’t think you can explain the tears on your face.

but when you open the door, your mouth goes dry and you know you don’t have to explain anything.

because across from you, is a red-eyed yoongi and he’s carrying a box.

“can i come in?” is all he asks, his voice barely a whisper and you’re already opening the door and pulling him in.

but once he’s in your home, in your space again, the familiar soft and sharp scent of him, the sight of him, it was too much. you couldn’t breathe. your eyes never leave him, every breath he took, every shift of his fingers, every fall of his chest, all of it was dancing in your eyes and for the love of god, you couldn’t look away.

he sets the box down and stands there with his hands opening and closing around nothing, and you want to grab them, you want to spread them across your cheeks and feel his warmth, which was sometimes cold too but you didn’t mind, you never minded with yoongi.

but instead, you curl your hands behind your back and stop yourself because it still wasn’t right.

“i don’t have anything of yours,” you start, voice already breaking, “anymore,” you finish with hands tightening so hard around each other that you could feel the bruises blooming on their surface.

“i know,” he takes a sharp inhale of breath and looks away from you and you want to beg him to look at you.

for a second, it’s just you reliving every second you weren’t with him and it’s him looking at your apartment that was void of anything personal, anything that called it a home.

“i want all of it back,” he sniffs, looking at you finally, you want to take it back, you aren’t sure how you survived three years of his eyes only on you and you squeeze your door handle, “all of what?” you whisper, and he sniffs again, “your stuff, all of it, your stupid scarf, your straightener, everything, i want all of it back, in my place, in our place, where it belongs.” he says it so quietly, so earnestly and each word has you pulling your skin tighter.

“your plushie is in this, i never threw it away but i’m taking it back, my t-shirts and headphones are in this, i’m leaving them here,” he bends over the box and starts picking things apart, and each thing he pulls out, fills you with relief.

but.

“but that isn’t right, yoongi,” you try to defend, “we aren’t together anymore,” you hate the words as they surface out of you and yoongi shakes his head.

“but is this right?” he lifts his hands from the box, his jaw trembling again and you instinctively smooth your hand over it and yoongi pushes his face into your hands.

“is it right, both of us miserable?” he whispers and the world bottoms out from underneath you, suddenly gravity is nothing and you’re both floating towards each other.

“but i hurt you,” you grip his headphones and this time, his tears fall the same as yours do, “i hurt you too.” he places a hand on your knees and that cold warmth, that bare touch leaves you open.

“but i’m done, i don’t want to hurt you anymore,” yoongi begs, he shakes his head as he says it as if he can’t believe there was a time that he had hurt you but you’re the same, you can’t believe that you hurt him once.

“before you came here, i was looking for something, anything that was yours so i could come back,” you sniffed loudly, your voice falling and lifting and yoongi listens with eyes that have always looked at you, “but i didn’t find anything, yoongi and it killed me.” your voice fully gives up as you bury your face into your hands and immediately, you feel his arms pulling you into his chest and his hands running down your hair.

“you don’t have to do that anymore, i’m back see,” he tips your face towards him and his smile is so soft, so real that it makes you smile too, “i’m not going anywhere.” he assures you with a kiss on the top of your head and your watery eyes dry out.

“me too, i don’t want this anymore, i want us, i want two of everything, i want you and i want everything,” you utter back to him, the weight of the words floating between you too.

“and you have it, you have everything again, the ring is in there too but that is for whenever you’re ready.” he kisses you again and you snuggle into his embrace, feeling like you’ve lost centuries of holding him, the thought of the ring swells your chest into a balloon that could snap, “that will take time, but thank you,” you whisper, kissing where his shoulders met his neck.

“like i said, whenever you’re ready but it will always belong to you.” yoongi whispers back and you smile in pure delight, nodding along to his words.

“we were stupid for thinking that we could stay apart,” you laugh hesitantly into his chest, the idea of the two of you trying to be separate was ridiculous to you and yoongi laughs with you, which makes you melt into his body, because it was ridiculous, you were two parts of a whole, two houses in a home, two mugs in a kitchen, two keys in your purse, two toothbrushes in one bathroom and two of everything else that you could think of.

and that was how it should’ve been, that was how it was always meant to be.

somewhere in the night, yoongi crawls up your sheets and your plushie is between the two of you and you make fun of him for acting as if he threw it away, he rolls his eyes and shushes you with a kiss.

“by the way, that straightener is yours, not mine,” you whisper and he is aghast, “i fucking knew it,” he yells and sits up, and immediately starts to complain “you know how stupid i’ve been looking with hair that looks just like holly’s!”

and you remind him, playfully this time, that what was yours was his, and what was his was yours and he falls on the bed, grumbling under his breath and complaining until the sun comes up.

and it feels right, everything that belonged to you and him back in their place, back in their homes and yoongi, back in your life, your home, and your space.

just as it should be, just as it was meant to be.

MAGIC SHOP l JJK (SERIES)

Summary: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you're trying to impress, told you she's in love with Jungkook too?

Alternatively:

"Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?"

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, slow burn, pining, slice of life au.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15 (Final Chapter)

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 ; KSJ

title. white sand

pairing. kim seokjin x female oc/reader

genre. angst, exes au

warnings. mentions of broken marriage, arguments, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, missing communication in a relationship ; divorce ; non descriptive smut, allusions to miscarriage ; surprise ending?

wc. 3.3k+

listen to : playlist

masterlist | taglist

The sky is gloomy today.

Do you want to turn a river in its bed,

Or plant a barren wilderness with wheat?

Warm water ripples underneath your feet, giving you a feeling of you being still alive. That certain feeling of your stomach churning never leaves you, as you inhale a deep breath. This wasn't new to you, at least you knowing that wasn't. Your heart throbbing with pain each time whenever you see colors swirling around your life, but not you. Everything felt blank, everyday was an endless loop.

Your thoughts never ran twice before committing anything, resulting in indiscretion.

You didn't know why you'd visit the beach once in the year when the water felt bizzare to your skin; but at least this feeling of your feet sinking in the soft wet sand, the feeling of the cold breeze soothing your skin calms down your racing thoughts.

If you can meet with triumph and failure

And treat those two impostors just the same

Triumph. You weren't sure of when you met triumph, but failure, for sure was met by you. Failure is the secret ingredient to your success, they say, but when you actually fail, there aren't many who still stand by their quote.

The bubbling pot of jealousy inside, being compared to others, despised, accused of being a traitor, these all were some things which you craved to forget, but some things can't be just forgotten, can they really be?

If you can bear to hear the truth they've spoken

That you stepped right in trap for fools. But when?

They get buried inside your own self, in one such deep crests inside your heart that when even a glance is spared over, your whole self falls into an endless slumber of contriteness. Was it fair to lead on in this way? Pity for others, harassment for your own self. The truth is factual, you have heard it by your own self, and you are ready to accept it all. It itself might hurt but all these things, at least have an honesty within that you haven't been through unfair means to provide you a bittersweet nostalgia.

They say that success and failures are like the two faces of a coin. They're both an outcome of luck with a probable chance of 50-50 for each. Hard work does not always bring success, no matter how hard you put in your efforts.

But they also say that to keep a drowning relationship afloat, you have to put in effort.

It hit you hard when you’d realized that the risk of risking it all can also mean losing everything you've ever had in your life.

It hits you even harder when you remember how the decade old moon pendant still rests peacefully between your clavicles, against the resonating of your heart. You'd wanted to throw that away in the vast ocean, wanting the hues of the blues carry your pain, the memories to a place far, far away from you.

But you never had the heart to part away with something so close to your heart.

It's the seventh year you're seeing the imprints of your feet on the dunes of the damp sand on the same day, every year.

It's the seventh year you're walking alone on the beach with no sounds of squeaky giggles tingling your ears.

You wonder if the pendant still holds the tiny pieces of paper between its leaves which have both of your initials imprinted, or it's faded away like your footprints on the sand with each wave hitting the coast. Like how the castles you'd build together did.

4th December.

Your heart beats like crazy within your ribcage when your fingers feel the gentle surface of the white pendant, a relic which once was the reason for your smile blooming like lilies in a pond. But now, it only reminds you of your failure— your failure to keep your relationship afloat. Of your broken connection.

It's the seventh year you're reminded once again that it's truly over.

It's the seventh year you've realized that you're no longer together with your childhood friend whom you'd married.

It's the seventh year you've realized that maybe you've died. Maybe a part of you has, because till death do us part did not do any justice to you. To your best friend, your husband— ex husband.

It's the seventh year you're living without him, as many would say that you're doing completely fine, maybe only you know that a part of you never has ever stopped yearning.

Never stopped loving him.

You take off the pendant from your neck, gently unfolding the metallic celestial halves. The white paper in both of the tiny compartments unveiled bold, black scrawls with tiny hearts surrounding them.

KSJ ♡ YN

You feel the pain right in your chest, spiraling up your lungs to down your stomach till you could no longer breathe properly.

It's not a vague memory in your mind the day he gifted you the pendant. The event replays in your head like it's yesterday, when you were both young adults with warmth glowing in your faces, in your hearts, surrounding each other with the blanket of love. You still remember how young he looked with flushed cheeks and eyes twinkling under the moonlight, half squeaking, half laughing at some lame joke. His warm, big hand enveloped yours as you two walked to the waves in this same beach, feet sinking to the white sand glowing in the night.

You still remember how Seokjin had made a note of how warm the water was in comparison to the weather, and you'd make a note of how the tips of his ears were a shade of crimson.

You still remember when he had handed you the pendant, smiling so brightly, saying that he's forever grateful to the moon for blessing him, and you still remember the freshness of his breath as his lips touched yours for the first time ever.

You still remember how scared you two were. Having discovered your love for eachother after pining like idiots, you knew you had a lot of talking to do. You still remember how hot his lips felt on your skin, promising you words of affirmation that you both got this.

You still remember how delicate he was at that night of your first time together, how gently he made love to you, and how he coaxed releases after releases from you, gently kissing your heated flesh with each stroke to your skin. How he'd turned to mush after you'd touched him back with the same passion, with the same desire.

You still remember his teary face when you'd met him at the altar, when you'd exchanged your vows of eternal love and fidelity. You still remember how different the kiss you'd both shared felt to be, almost like a seal to your newfound journey.

You still remember how happy you two were. You two had promised that you'd got this together.

You feel your eyes stinging with tears amidst the bitter smile that hangs loosely on your lips, because you still remember the first time when things got hard. Really hard. You still remember the shaking of his dark pupils like an autumn leaf hanging on the tree, quivering with guilt suppressed anger when he saw you flinch. He had yelled at you, for the first time ever. He stroked your back with flurries of apologies as he kissed you to sleep that day.

You remember how any squabbles were silenced without any communication gradually and how any quarrel would be slept on without any apologies from either of you.

Despite the slowly forming gap between you two, he'd still make sure to have prepared breakfast for you when you'd wake up late. How he'd still prepare the vase every two days with your favorite flowers. How he'd pull you closer to his broad chest, lulling you to sleep, or occasionally telling you about his days.

You still remember how slowly the arguments turned to sleepless nights with a fidgeting heart and a choking stomach. How everything was so gradual that it took you time to realize that it was happening, and you'd taken it for granted.

How the loud voices of you both threatened to blow off the ceiling, and how your eyes hurt after crying yourself to sleep. How dark the bags under his eyes seemed every morning. How scared you were when you realized that he was no longer behind you, let alone stroking your back when you were bawling your eyes out as he used to do earlier.

How you'd wake up to an empty side of your bed, how your texts went unanswered most of the time. How every day after work you'd return to an empty home, flowers withered and dead on vases and everything picking up layers of dust.

How you'd fall asleep with untouched food on the table when he'd return back to home late from work. How you'd no longer smell the piping hot food everyday when you'd woken up. You would wake up to the same, empty place, knowing that he had been there, but he left without even sparing a glance.

You'd also miss how Seokjin would return to home with a throbbing guilt in his heart, never putting off the blame in his heart which accused him for everything which has been happening in your marriage.

How his heart would shatter to pieces each time after a quarrel, realizing the situation. How heartbreaking your sobs were behind the closed rooms or the running showers.

But he'd never got to apologize, because a part of him wanted that to come from you too. He'd wonder at times if you thought the same.

You still remember the lone happiness which bloomed inside you after so long when you'd seen two lines on the pregnancy stick after days of throwing up in the morning. How you'd thought that maybe, maybe this could fix everything between you two. Everything which you weren't ready for, but were thrown onto. Everything which you didn't know existed between you two, but was clearly visible day after day. You were positive that it definitely would.

How fucking selfish of you.

You still remember his absence and his ignorance when you were so excited to let him know about the happy news. You still remember the piercing fight which took place when he returned from his three month long business trip. You vaguely remember how you'd cry for him at nights to hold you, trashing beside the empty bed, how you'd throw up and clutch yourself to sleep. How the doctor had already warned you of your difficult pregnancy and to avoid mental stress as much as you can.

You vaguely remember how he'd asked you why do you look so pale. You barely remember the panic, the pain when the conversation flowed to another fight, now you yelling at him. He'd screamed at you that you were a burden to him.

You faintly remember the agonizing pain at your lower abdomen, strong enough to blur your vision and strangle you down to the ground where he'd cried your name as you fell down, and everything had blacked out.

But you actually remember the look on the doctor's face when she told it out loud.

And even clearer, the look on Seokjin’s face.

You don't really want to remember everything else which happened after that. Your friends had taken you home, away from him, suggesting that it's for the best. Some of them had already warned you beforehand when things had started to fall gradually and they emphasized their surmise of the situation.

You don't want to remember anything else which happened after that. You don't want to remember how you'd know that his company had gone completely bankrupt, and how he'd tried his best to save it.

You don't want to remember the time when you'd sent him the divorce papers and the look on his face, ignoring his thin frame, dark bags underneath his eyes which seemed devoid of any light in them, at all.

You don't want to remember all the times he came back to you, called you, texted you endlessly and begged forgiveness for everything he'd done to you but not even once to come back to him.

Maybe he knew already that you wouldn't.

You don't want to remember the time when you'd gone to your once shared apartment to get back your stuff. It felt. . .empty and devoid of any life, your once warm home staring at your face with a cold air around it, partially suffocating you from all the memories you'd created together. Whether they were the happy ones, or the terrible ones.

You'd purposefully ignored the vase of fresh flowers greeting you or all the furniture being spotlessly free of any dust. You'd ignored how your heartstring tugged at you when you'd see that his clothes are still with your own in the closet and how the bed was changed into the bedsheets which you'd bought at the beginning of your honeymoon.

But you couldn't refrain yourself from stepping into his study. Maybe it was because you were sure that you wouldn't be seeing him anymore, and the court would be the last place and time when you'd see him. Maybe because there was a part inside of you which wanted you to hang on for him. Hang on for you, but you'd ignored that, suppressing the voice inside you.

You absolutely don't want to remember whatever you'd seen there anymore. Whether it was the unfinished yarn you'd knitted to a poorly made mass during those three months knitted to an almost finished sweater, or the photos of you both framed on the shelves where you'd previously seen trophies of his youth camping on.

From small kids grinning ear to ear to adolescent teens with awkward poses to full grown adults and your last photo you'd taken together at Ilsan a year ago then as a couple. Each of them rested one beside another and other memories which were caught in small handicrafts you'd thrifted during your small visits to nearby towns in your early teens.

Because that only makes you fall into the endless pit of guilt, again and again, realizing that you'd never heard his part of the story. Your initial anger had always refrained you from thinking that way, but you'd know that despite everything, every effort you two had put into your marriage, had been in vain. You remember how pale, dull, thin and silent he'd seemed at the day of your divorce. He'd just a thin jacket on his frame regardless of the freezing cold outside with heavy bags underneath his eyes. He'd acknowledged your presence with a slow, long stare of his dim, puffy eyes, a small single nod of his head. You'd ignored how much it hurt to see Seokjin like that, but you'd instead decided to move forward, no matter how painful it was.

You remember the silence from his side when the judge had asked him questions about the reasons why your marriage broke down to pieces. You'd held your breath in your chest which already hurt with the constant throbbing.

He'd answered with a voice that you couldn't recognise from the person you'd known for more than half of your life.

“I wasn't there for her when she needed me the most.”

The judge had asked again, why'd he give up. If he knows, shouldn't he be trying to make it up to you? His answer, perhaps, had shocked the judge, too.

“Once a knot gets tied between a thread, the knot forever remains, no matter how much you try to untangle it.”

The actual last time you saw Seokjin was after you two were divorced, sitting beside each other, having signed on the papers which officially meant that you two no longer were married to each other. Your heart felt numb with the pain and your eyes were devoid of any moisture, having exhausted them all within the painful months you'd spent alone with the memories haunting you.

You hadn't looked up at him, and you knew he didn't, too, and you didn't want to. You'd seen his fingers twitch on the paper where he held his pen, close to yours own, but made no further move. You'd itched to say something to him which you didn't know if you should've, but you'd kept quiet all the while.

You'd heard his tiny please forgive me,if you can the last time before you exited the court, but also from the place where you'd relished your memories, a souvenir to your old love.

You close the pendant with a snap.

It's the same day you divorced your ex husband.

4th December.

It's his thirty-first birthday, too.

As the waves crawl gently towards the white sand of the coast, you exhale in the breath you were holding in. You run your thumb on the craters like designs on the outside of the golden pendant, silently feeling the burden inside your chest now being a bit lighter.

You don't know if you've truly moved on, but the bitterness in the memories doesn't really feel bitter to you. At times they overwhelm you, but it's not intense.

You wonder if Seokjin is doing well.

We were taken from the ore-bed

And melted in the furnace pit—

We were cast and hammered to design,

We were cut and filed to fit.

You don't like nostalgia, but sometimes it reminds you that failure and struggle are the components who develop your character. If anything, it reminds you that mistakes were made and consequences were beared, but it also leaves you with a tingling curiosity inside. Is Seokjin living in the same city? Is he..is he celebrating his birthday today?

Birthdays for him were fun. Birthdays with him were fun.

You don't know. You guess it wasn't really within your imagination to imagine what it would be like for him. You just hope and wish he's doing okay. You hope he has healed well, or is healing well.

You stand up, your pendant still clutched in between your palms, no longer feeling the weight it carried for you, from you throughout the years of your life.

The weather begins to get chillier as the sun slowly makes its way away from the face of the world.

The low rustle of the waves and the slow whoosh of the wind tells you that it's time to leave.

Exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding on, you turn to exit the beach. A simple smile spreads on your lips when you suddenly feel the pendant slip away from your slightly sweaty palms to the sand underneath.

You bend down to pick it up, and your hands brush against another hand which doesn't belong to you.

A warm one, and an oddly familiar,big one.

A pair of warm, curious pupils, twinkling within the dark pools of coffee hidden underneath tresses of dark hair greets you.

You look up.

“Seokjin?”

His eyes are wide and shaking slightly by the time you both stand up, your hands dangerously close to his which clasps the pendant within. He looks healthier, fuller and he's gained some much needed weight over the years. He's dressed in a white tee and black shorts, and you notice that he's let his hair grow. His cheeks have a flush which you'd notice was new to you. If anything, he looked handsomely young, as if he'd aged back.

Walk down the white sand just to watch his lonely footprints get washed away by the currents. He's trying not to fall back to the habits which tore himself away from him, but he's never been truly free from the guilt which pokes his chest in every aspect of his life.

When he saw you seated on the edge of the coast when he was out to visit the beach that meant the most to him, he couldn't believe his eyes. Every year on his birthday he'd visit the beach in the evening with a selfish hope in his heart, which he knew wasn't rational at any cost.

He used to sit on the coast the whole night, feeling the moon soothe away the burning memories of you. Hoping he'd ever find you, but always in vain. Hoping he could apologize for everything he's done except uttering a small sorry like a fucking coward.

The beach would always remind him of you.

Your hair is shorter than how he saw it the last time. Your cheeks are fuller, and your eyes have their light returned back to their places. You sat there in the same silence which he did at a distance, refusing the rational part of him which told him that it's wrong. He'd promised himself that he'd go away before you'd get up, and you seemed lost in thoughts as he took you in. Even if you two weren't together anymore, he was happy. Genuinely happy to see you okay. After everything you'd gone through. He knew, he was by no means rightful to ever look at you even, because he knew ever since then that you don't need him anymore.

Even if he tried, he could never stop loving you. Trying to be a better man everyday, wishing he could stop time and go back, knowing it's impossible. Everyday he'd wished he could. . . .

Now you're looking at him, and he doesn't know what to say. How to talk. You looked peaceful. You looked happy. You—

But when he'd seen the pendant he'd thought you wouldn't have it with you anymore, he lost it.

“Seokjin?” Fuck. This is the second time you've called him, but he doesn't find the crease in between your eyebrows as he'd expected to. You're rather smiling, a sight which he finds his heart racing miles at.

You don't wait for his response.

“Happy birthday.”

a/n : happy birthday to our silly moon prince~ hope you liked this one which i actually managed to finish in the brink of time ong

don't be sad, he's coming back soon home! :D as always, reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated 🌙🌹

trippin' over, gettin' lost on you | jjk (m)

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, smut | college au, slight coffee shop au (?)

— word count: 12.4k

— warnings: pov change after the first part (its kinda obvious.. i hope), sleeveless jk, jealous jk, like really jealous, side character yoongi, cameo jimin and hoseok, they work tgt in a coffee shop, boxer!jk is back to his nature (he's boxing again, at last), cocky jk (but he's hot so its ok), usual banter between jk and oc, also banter between oc and jimin, mentions of cuts and bruises from boxing, references to the movie Real Steel, uhh what else i dont rmb anything else this thing is GIANT for me, smut in the form of: kissing, marking (hickeys), making out, an attempt at dirty talk, dry humping, cumming in pants, hint at unprotected penetrative sex at the end (don't do this!). [pls lmk if i missed smth]

— summary: a visit to the coffee shop you work at rewards jeongguk not only with a cup of coffee and a plate of brownie, but also with something else simmering deep in his veins. a challenge is issued, and all hell breaks loose.

— author's note: okay first of all full disclosure i started this in sept 2022 and just finished it today ^_^ i tried to edit it as best as i could, so if you see any mistakes, pls kindly... ignore... thank you... ^_^ that aside, i also feel the need to disclose that this is only my second time attempting to write smut so pls.. be kind.. hehe. okay! i hope you enjoy this absolute giant baby of mine!!

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

There’s an advantage to knowing someone for years. Jeon Jeongguk can attest to this fact from first-hand experiences he’d had with you throughout the many years you both have known each other. He’s seen you cry after you almost drowned when you were ten and you’ve seen him throw up his breakfast after drinking skimmed milk when he was twelve, where both life-threatening experiences had been deemed not serious by young-you and young-Jeongguk who used both experiences as means to roast each other. (Though growing up, your hands automatically grabbed the whole milk carton when grocery shopping with him and he’s never let you go within a five-meter radius of a swimming pool without his supervision.)

Years of friendship with you has also given him the advantage of being familiar with your likes and dislikes, from trivial ones like how you don’t drink coffee because it upsets your stomach to more serious ones like the type of boys you would date in your teen years. He’s never had a problem with the former, instead using it as another mean to annoy you (“You can’t drink coffee? What are you? A child?”), but the latter had always bugged him for reasons unknown prior to his big epiphany a little over a year ago. (Spoiler alert: it was the first time he came home with piercings on his eyebrow and lower lip, when he tempted you into kissing him stupid.)

Now he’s confident that the type of a boy you’d date would be someone who is handsome, tall, has a great smile and tattooed bulging biceps on the side. Add a lip piercing (and a fake tongue one!) as well and he’s sure you’re never going to look at other boys ever again. If you do, well, he’d just make the piercing on his tongue a permanent one, even though that means he wouldn’t be able to kiss you for weeks after. But as said earlier, he’s confident that you only have eyes for him alone.

With that same confidence, Jeongguk struts through the glass door of the coffee shop you’re working at for the summer, going up to the counter with a grin painted on his features. Said grin goes unnoticed by you, though, as you’re busy taking the order of the person in front of him. His lips stay tilted upwards as he watches you work, writing the customer’s name on the cup with your big, round, cute handwriting. Only when you’re done taking the order and the customer’s cup has been given to your coworker do you notice his presence, eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

“Hi, what can I get you today?” you greet him in your customer-service voice and smile like you do any other customer that has come before him. Jeongguk gives you an amused smile, making you chuckle as you key in his order even before he says it himself. He eyes the small screen in front of him that displays his usual choice of beverage, making a sound to stop you from ringing him up.

“Actually,” he says when you hum in question, “could you add milk to that? Make it a latte?”

“You want a latte?” you emphasize the last word, making sure you didn’t hear him wrong. “Like, with milk and foam on top?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeongguk confirms, leaning his elbows on the counter to stare at you as you change his order from an americano to a latte. “Can I also order you on the side? Look too good not to be devoured,” he adds, a sleazy smirk on his lips.

You scrunch up your face at his innuendo, his words hard to believe when you’re wearing a murky brown apron and a matching cap on your head. “I’m adding a brownie,” you deadpan. “That would be seven dollars.”

“You don’t want anything?” Jeongguk asks as he straightens up, hand reaching for his wallet to take out his credit card. “No coffee though, babe.”

“Nope, I’m good,” you answer as you accept the card Jeongguk hands you, swiping it through the card reader. “Yoongi said I can try the new menu in large for free! I’m saving calories for that so no sugar allowed for now.”

His forehead creases upon hearing the new name. “Yoongi? Who’s Yoongi?”

“Him,” you tilt your head towards a mint-haired guy who’s busy making all the drinks, hands skillfully moving from one cup to another. It’s a wonder how he doesn’t spill even a drop of liquid. “I’ll introduce you later but now you have to move, there’s a line. Shoo.”

Jeongguk gives you a playful pout as a protest but complies with your request to move, sliding down to the pick up counter as you greet the next customer in line. There are two people lined up after him, barely a line like you made it sound like, but he figures because it’s an hour before closing that you consider any amount above one person a line. He also notices that you and the mint guy (Yoongi, was it?) are the only ones manning the counter, so it’s not like you have any spare time to deal with him given the amount of work that has to be done.

“An iced latte and brownie for Jeongguk!” Mint guy shouts as he slides the drink and dessert on the counter, lingering for a second when he sees Jeongguk’s hands reaching for his order. Mint guy’s gaze trails up his arms to his face, eyes meeting Jeongguk’s confused ones. Recognition bleeds into his cat-like eyes as his mouth forms into an O shape.

“Kiddo’s boyfriend?”

The low baritone of his voice is unexpected, though that’s not the only thing throwing Jeongguk for a loop. ‘Kiddo’? He has a nickname for you??

Mint guy—Yoongi!—doesn’t take his lack of response personally, instead opting to turn around and talk to you who have just finished taking orders from the customers. Jeongguk can’t hear what words you and Yoongi are throwing around, but from the way you glance at him, it looks like the mint-haired guy is just trying to confirm the answer to his two-worded question directed at Jeongguk earlier.

Your response to Yoongi’s inquiry makes the guy give you double pats on your cap-covered head, triggering a laugh to come out of both of you. While Yoongi’s laugh looks like he’s teasing you good-naturedly, yours looks like a shy one if the pink dusting your cheeks are any indication. It prompts a scowl to appear on Jeongguk’s handsome visage, furrowed brows and clenched jaw. It is not in your nature to get shy.

As much as he wants to stay rooted to the pick-up counter to keep you and Yoongi in his close watch, he has to move his ass somewhere less crowded to avoid getting eye-fucked by the girl next to him who has been staring at his tattoos for the past five minutes. Prior to dating you, anyone who displays interest in his tattoos would make pride swell in his chest, an ego-booster guaranteed to make his day a thousand times better. He used to subtly flex whenever he caught someone looking at his sleeve tattoos, an equally subtle wink on the side if that someone is a girl he found attractive. But after dating you, he realizes that the only attention he wants (and matters) is yours. Now anyone staring at his tattoos with the intention of flirting or getting in his pants just makes him shiver in disgust.

Though, in this particular instance, Jeongguk admits it’s his own fault by showing up to the coffee shop in a sleeveless shirt. It wasn’t intentional, he just grabbed anything within reach when he packed for the gym earlier in the day, but the way he left his hoodie in the car is definitely intentional. He thought he would give you a distraction surprise by baring his sleeve when you’re working, but you seemed unaffected even when he leaned on the counter to flex his muscles. Which is weird, considering you never missed any chance to ogle his inked bicep whenever he’s boxing.

As Jeongguk plops a small piece of brownie into his mouth, he just realizes that your roles are reversed now, with you doing your thing and him doing the staring. His eyes never leave your figure as you ring up three more customers since he sat down, transferring plastic cups onto Yoongi’s never-ending queue of orders. He watches as you take the last two cups by yourself, re-reading the order before moving to grab the ingredients needed for the drink. Your hands don’t work as fast as Yoongi’s, the muscle memory not yet settling in, but Jeongguk can tell that your help is appreciated by the way the mint guy smiles at you while patting your shoulder.

When the orders are all done, you go up to the glass door to flip the sign so it shows the Sorry, we’re closed! side. A glance at the clock tells him that it is thirty minutes until closing time, meaning thirty minutes until you can get out from behind the cashier and into his waiting arms. He hasn’t seen you all day today and all he wants to do is kiss you breathless the second you get rid of that horrendous apron and cap. Jeongguk starts counting down from the thirty-minute mark, hoping time would tick by faster.

Behind the counter, Yoongi is still busy making one more drink while refusing your offer to help. It’s weird seeing your kindness being offered to someone that isn’t him, but Jeongguk supposes this time it’s strictly work-related as he knows Yoongi has been making all the drinks (except the last two that you did) ever since he sat down with his order. Though, it seems like the drink in his hand is not an order at all, because he gives the plastic cup to you instead of putting it on the counter for a customer to take. There’s an almost childish grin on your face as you sip on the drink, eyes lighting up as you shoot Yoongi a thumbs up. After you exchange some more words with Yoongi, Jeongguk watches as you skip happily to his table with your drink in hand.

You place said drink next to his cup of latte on the table before your hand reaches for his drink to steal a sip. “I just have to clean up and wait for everyone to leave, then we’re good to go.” You steal two more sips of the latte just because you can.

“Okay, babe, but I still want my latte, you can put it down now,” Jeongguk chuckles, watching you do as he says with a guilty smile on your face. But then your hand takes the little spoon that came with the brownie to cut a sizable chunk from his half-eaten treat, quickly plopping it into your mouth. “Finish your brownie so I can take the plate away to wash it.”

“Are you just here to steal all of my food?” Jeongguk jokes, no menace behind his words as he reaches up to thumb away a stray piece of brownie from the corner of your lips. “And you said you didn’t want anything when I offered earlier.”

“I didn’t,” you confirm, “stealing from you is just too hard to resist.”

Jeongguk would’ve continued the banter if not for Yoongi calling your nickname from behind the counter, signalling for you to get back to your job.

“Boss calls,” you say, sneakily stuffing some more brownie into your mouth. “Should get back. Bye!”

“He’s your boss?” Jeongguk asks incredulously, glancing at the mint-haired guy who’s still busy moving around behind the counter. “That young guy is your boss??”

“Yeah, I’ll explain later,” you wave your hand dismissively, turning to leave. “Don’t steal my drink!”

In true Jeongguk fashion, of course he steals a sip from your drink. He does it just to be petty that you won’t explain anything about Yoongi, but he’s also curious what the new menu tastes like. He doesn’t remember seeing any banner for a new menu when he entered the shop earlier, so he’s guessing it hasn’t gone on sale yet.

He scrunches up his face the moment the drink touches his taste buds, tasting the bitterness of coffee among the layers of other flavors. It’s not as strong as the americano he usually has, but he can still feel it linger even after he swallowed the drink. Definitely not the type of drink you’d order on your own, though, so why were you so excited to try this new menu?

Looking around the shop, Jeongguk’s gaze falls on Yoongi. You did say he was your boss, didn’t you? Could it be that this free drink is just a plot to use you as a guinea pig for his experimental weird recipes, knowing that you can’t refuse your boss? Was that why he refused your help earlier? So he could make the drink taste as bizarre as it is right now?

His eyes continue following your and Yoongi’s figures behind the counter, squinting them in distaste whenever he sees you laughing at something the mint-haired guy said. Your smile, your lowered gaze, your shy demeanor, all remind him of a feeling he thought he had buried a long time ago—the same feeling he got whenever you got a boyfriend in your adolescent years. Suddenly, Jeongguk feels fifteen all over again—a clueless doe-eyed boy who donned t-shirts in every color of the rainbow every day of the week and strutted like he owned the school just so you can see that he was cool, only for you to deny him of a Sunday together.

Those years have become a core memory for him that it inspired him to get one of his tattoos: Rather be dead than cool, because he realized the way to your attention was not by being cool, it was by just being himself. (Yes, the ‘him’ who showed up unannounced at your doorstep after two years and ended the day with you on his lap stealing all the breath straight from his lungs.)

Anyways, all of that doesn’t matter because currently, your eyes are not on him but on your mint-haired boss who’s busy grinning while washing some equipment. Why are you both smiling so much around each other? Do you have some kind of inside joke that’s so funny you can’t stop laughing? What is so pleasing about Yoongi’s presence that you keep beaming at him?

Jeongguk chews the straw of your drink in anger, not realizing that he has inhaled almost half of the cup’s content despite claiming that he hates the taste. Sipping on your drink has become an afterthought as he was busy analyzing how wide your smiles are while working with Yoongi and how friendly the shoulder and head pats you give each other are. It’s sickening.

Eventually, everyone else in the coffee shop left and you’re in front of him once again to get rid of the brownie plate from his table, whining when you see the half-empty cup in Jeongguk’s hand even as you’re chewing the rest of his brownie in your mouth. Fair trade, he says as you walk away with the plate and spoon in hand.

Not even five minutes has passed since you left his table, yet Jeongguk feels tired of being patient, taking your and his coffee cups in each hand before coming up to the counter. It seems like Yoongi senses his presence, because he looks up from the calculator app on the tablet in front of him to give Jeongguk a curious glance. Their eyes meet for a split second before Jeongguk moves his gaze past Yoongi’s shoulder to you, who’s still busy wiping down the counter. A knowing smile curves on Yoongi’s lips.

“Hey, Kiddo,” Yoongi turns towards you, the nickname still irritating to Jeongguk’s ears. “I’ll finish closing up, you can go. Great work today.”

“No it’s okay, I can help you mop the floor after I’m finished with the counter.” You don’t even look up as you wave him off, oblivious to Jeongguk’s presence and his increasing impatience in front of your boss. He clears his throat comically loud, making you turn around to see a frown etched on your boyfriend’s face and Yoongi tilting his head towards him with a small, almost teasing smile on his face.

“Oh.” You pull your lips into a thin line. “Okay then. Sorry about him, Yoongi.”

“No worries, Kiddo.”

Yoongi’s nonchalant response is laced with a chuckle, which for some reason, upsets Jeongguk even more than the nickname he keeps calling you by. Is Yoongi not scared of him? Of his tattoos, of his muscles? Is he not intimidating? Can’t he feel the piercing stare Jeongguk keeps giving him ever since he walked into the coffee shop?

“You.” Your stern voice tears his hot gaze away from the mint-haired guy, whose focus is back on the calculator on his tablet to count the sales they made today. “I’ll clock out first then we can go. Please don’t do anything weird in the five minutes that I don’t have my eyes on you.”

Jeongguk follows your figure with his eyes until you disappear into the backroom, leaving him alone with Yoongi. Yoongi, the guy with the mint hair, whose surname he doesn’t even know, who is your boss that strangely have an endearing nickname for you. Things that stream steady questions into his head, about your initial meeting with Yoongi to the extent of your relationship with him. It’s the nickname he can’t seem to shake off of his mind, the way it rolls easily off Yoongi’s tongue, as if he’s been calling you that for years. Has he known you for years like Jeongguk has? Been through near-death experiences with you like Jeongguk has? Has he deserved the right to call you by a nickname like Jeongguk has?

“You can stop shooting daggers at my head, you know,” Yoongi’s low drawl almost makes Jeongguk think that he’s talking to himself, but the sentence is clearly directed at him. The older guy finally looks up from his tablet to look at Jeongguk in the eyes for longer than a second, no coffee orders to complete to interrupt their interaction this time. “Kiddo’s boyfriend, Jeongguk, right?”

As Jeongguk gives a nod to confirm Yoongi’s question, a hand is extended towards him to complete the introduction. “I’m Yoongi, Kiddo’s coworker-slash-boss.”

Jeongguk grips Yoongi’s hand with more strength than necessary, unintentionally flexing his muscles too. He thought that would be enough to tell Yoongi that Jeongguk is your boyfriend and he has no business being so friendly with you, but Yoongi only glances at his tattooed arm before letting go of his hand with a comment about how strong his grip is.

“Thanks, I do boxing,” Jeongguk mutters curtly, upset at the degree of nonchalance Yoongi is showing. He starts glancing at the door to the backroom where you currently are, wishing you would emerge right this second so he can go and doesn’t need to face Yoongi’s mint hair ever again.

“Yeah, Kiddo might have mentioned that a few times, just like she won’t shut up about your sleeve tattoos,” Yoongi says, going back to his tablet. “I used to box too, by the way.”

If you asked Jeongguk what Yoongi used to do, he wouldn’t be able to answer at all as he chooses to focus on the part where Yoongi said you won’t shut up about his sleeve tattoos and tune out the rest of his sentence. “My tattoos? What about them?”

“She said you have tons. Shoulder to fingertips. That’s how I recognized you when giving your order,” Yoongi answers lightly, which piqued Jeongguk’s interest even further. Wouldn’t it be fun to use this coworker-slash-boss of yours to get information about what you’ve been saying about him at work? What else does Yoongi know about him other than he does boxing and has a sleeve tattoo?

“Really? Does she gush about how hot they are to you, too?”

It’s not a question meant to be answered, its sole purpose to show off that you indeed gush to him about how hot his tattoos are. Though, if one thinks about it, why would Jeongguk need to boast to Yoongi about the compliments you give him about the strokes of ink on his arm? What business does Yoongi have knowing about it?

Yoongi seems to be unaware of Jeongguk’s inner dilemma as his face breaks out into a grin. “I think she’d be mad at me if I told you half the things she gushes to me about you.”

So you do gush about how hot his tattoos are to Yoongi. Interesting.

The fact that Yoongi insinuates there’s more to that is both endearing and terrifying to Jeongguk, because while he’s giddy that you talk about him with other people with so much enthusiasm, too much of it could end up in you sharing something about him that you should not have. Not to mention you’re sharing it with your boss, someone you should keep at an arm’s length when it comes to sharing about your significant others. One wrong move and he could use it against you.

Jeongguk is just about to ask Yoongi to elaborate further on his statement when you step out of the backroom, now out of the murky brown cap and apron and in a white t-shirt that looks like it belongs to Jeongguk. All thoughts of Yoongi knowing all sort of things about him evaporates right away, his mind focusing on how cute you look instead. If only Jeongguk doesn’t know basic human decency, he’d pull you by the waist to taste the mouth he’s been deprived of for the whole day, not giving an ounce of care about your boss watching the whole thing.

No, he’s a good boyfriend so he opts to pull you by the shoulders instead, letting your arms go around his waist before squeezing you in his arms. The kiss he drops on your cheek is chaste yet lingering, like he wants to let you know just how much he missed you. You tighten your arms around him in return, wordlessly saying the same thing back.

“Ready to go?” Jeongguk mumbles into your hair, not yet letting go of the hug.

“Ye—oh, wait!” You pull your face away from its initial position on Jeongguk’s chest. “You haven’t met Yoongi yet.”

“We did, Kiddo,” Yoongi waves you off. “You’re free to go. Your boyfriend here has been waiting long enough.”

“No,” you say, pulling away from Jeongguk’s hold. “I mean I haven’t introduced you two properly.” You gesture to the both of them back and forth as you say their names. “Yoongi, meet my boyfriend, Jeon Jeongguk. Jeongguk, meet my boss, Min Yoongi. His family owns this coffee shop.”

“That’s what you mean by proper?” Jeongguk says to you as he takes Yoongi’s hand for the second time that day, regular grip this time because you’re watching his every move like a hawk. “I didn’t know you own the shop. Nice place,” he nods to the older guy, releasing his hand.

“Thanks. It’s my dad’s, though. I just help from time to time,” Yoongi shrugs.

“You ‘just help from time to time’ but willing to dye your hair mint in honor of the new menu.” You nudge his elbow playfully. “Speaking of the new menu, did you finish the whole cup, Jeongguk? I’ve only had a few sips.” You frown as you bring the cup to your eye level, examining just how much of it is left. It’s an exaggeration, obviously, as the cup in your hand is still half-filled. But Jeongguk plays along, saying the reason why he inhaled your drink is because he’s tired from having just gone back from boxing.

“You have your own latte,” you point out, finally taking a much-deserved sip from your free drink. It still tastes okay, so you stop grilling Jeongguk about stealing your drink (even though you kinda stole his too, in the middle of your shift nonetheless.) “Oh, and did you know Yoongi also—”

Yoongi clears his throat loudly before you can finish your sentence. You look up from your drink, alarmed, afraid you might have said something wrong. Your eyes meet Yoongi’s and he gives you a tiny shake of his head, one Jeongguk doesn’t notice because he’s busy taking sips from his own cup of latte. (And because he’s more focused on you than Yoongi.)

“He knows, I told him I used to box too,” Yoongi says.

“You did? I didn’t catch it,” Jeongguk averts his eyes from you, turning to look at Yoongi. “Wanna have a match? I could use an opponent for my session tomorrow.”

“I said I used to, Kid,” Yoongi re-emphasizes on the two words. “I have a shoulder injury. It’s healing, but I still shouldn’t do too much to it.”

“Oh come on, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Jeongguk!” A slap lands on his bicep courtesy of you.

“What? He said it’s healing!”

It’s only now that Jeongguk witnesses the exchange between you and Yoongi using only your eyes, yours looking frantic while Yoongi’s looking as cool as a cucumber. Maybe he should dye his hair a shade of green resembling a cucumber rather than a mint.

After watching you and Yoongi have a silent conversation for a minute, Jeongguk lets out a sigh as he takes the final sip from his latte. “It’s okay, babe, I was just kidding. It’s fine if Yoongi doesn’t want to have a match with me.” He throws the empty cup into a trashcan nearby. “It just means that he backs down easily from a challenge.”

You physically face-palm at his sentence, missing the way Jeongguk throws a challenging smirk Yoongi’s way. The older doesn’t seem fazed at all, instead letting a small smirk take over his features as well. “That’s not a really nice thing to say to someone you’ve just met,” he drawls.

Jeongguk shrugs. “Just stating the truth.”

“Jeongguk, please stop,” you whine from behind your hands, still facepalming because you don’t want to become a witness in case this coffee shop becomes a crime scene.

“Alright, I’ll have a match with you,” Yoongi says finally, tone resolute. You peek out from the cocoon of your hands, glancing back and forth between your coworker-slash-boss and your boyfriend who are having a staring contest, both refusing to back down. “Tomorrow after my shift works? Kiddo here can take the same shift so she can watch us too.”

“Sure,” Jeongguk agrees without a pause. “It ends at three, right?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. See you then.”

Then Jeongguk puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from the counter to finally go take you home as it’s the reason he came here in the first place. You hastily give your coworker a wave goodbye over your shoulder, getting a wave back accompanied with a laugh. Jeongguk uses the opportunity to steal yet another sip from your drink.

“Stop it! You’re gonna finish it all!”

“What even is it? It tastes really weird.” Jeongguk scrunches up his face.

“It’s mint mochaccino, you ass.” You pull the cup away from him, who chases the straw with his mouth while grinning wide. “Stop or I won’t kiss you until tomorrow morning.”

“Always withdrawing kisses when I need them the most,” he pouts, retreating from your drink to let you finally finish the cup yourself. “Can I kiss you in the car or should I wait until we get home?”

(Does not matter what you answer is, because he grips the back of your neck in the car to make out with you for five minutes, and then finish what he started in the safety of his room, under the blankets.)

“Are you sure you want to fight with Yoongi later?”

You and Jeongguk are back in his car, on the way to the coffee shop for you to start your shift and for Jeongguk to get his americano to kick off the day. His nod to your question is firm.

“Yeah. My coach said it’s good to train with an opponent sometimes.”

“You could’ve fought with your coach instead, then,” you point out.

“True, but—” Jeongguk tilts his head, sucking in a breath. “He’s the one who trained me, so he knows my fighting style and pattern. It’s good indeed, but it’s missing that element of fun.” He drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Besides, I want to know what your Yoongi is made of.” He casts a glance at you to see your reaction.

“What ‘my’ Yoongi, what are you talking about …” You heave a sigh, massaging your temple. It’s not even 9 AM yet but you can already feel a headache coming. Sometimes you wonder why you’re willing to date this childhood friend of yours, knowing all of his flaws and bad habits like this. Though it’s given you the advantage of being able to read between the lines of his actions, often you wish he’d just say things outright without you having to dig it out of him.

“You know, the Yoongi you work with? The Yoongi who gives you head pats? The Yoongi who has a nickname for you?” Jeongguk’s tone gets more annoying near the end of his sentence, almost as if he’s trying to get a certain reaction out of you.

“The Yoongi who owns the cafe I work at, which is the sole source of income I have?” you reply instead, refusing to give in to Jeongguk’s silent provocation. “Also, the Yoongi who used to box. I think you should keep that in mind when you fight him later.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bet he wasn’t even that good.”

You manage to arrive at the cafe unscathed, only losing a tiny piece of sanity because your boyfriend couldn’t keep his mouth shut about Yoongi and his non-existent boxing skills (Jeongguk’s words, not yours.) It doesn’t help that the Yoongi in question is already standing behind the register, greeting you with a smile and throwing a lopsided smirk your boyfriend’s way. You don’t like the thick tension between them at all so you quickly slip into the backroom to let Jeongguk be a big boy for once and order his own americano for the day.

Stepping out of the backroom in your mandatory work apron and cap, you’re kind of relieved when you see the shop is still intact, not thrown upside down courtesy of your boyfriend and his inability to control his strength (and emotion) in the face of a threat (read: Yoongi.) Upon seeing you, Jeongguk pushes himself off the counter he’s leaning against before reaching for your waist despite your boss standing just a few feet away. The cup of americano on the counter tells you that you took too long in the breakroom, which if anyone asks, you’d justify with adjusting your work attire. In reality, you just don’t want to face your boyfriend and the sour look he has whenever he so much as glances at your boss.

“You can always cancel the fight with Yoongi, you know,” you murmur, biting your bottom lip in worry. “You could hurt him, he could hurt you … it’s not ideal.”

“Hmm.” Jeongguk purses his lips. “What’s not ideal is your boss having a nickname for you.” There he goes again, always having something to say about Yoongi. “Aside from it being highly unprofessional, it’s also inappropriate since you have a boyfriend and that is me. Jeon Jeongguk. I am your boyfriend.”

“Jeongguk, he knows,” you groan, fed up with the back-and-forth about this whole Yoongi thing. You don’t even know why your boyfriend is so threatened by the older guy when he’s a whole lifetime ahead of him. “It’s not even a nickname. You’re just seeing what you want to see.”

Jeongguk’s reply never makes it out of his mouth as he’s interrupted by Yoongi clearing his throat, making you both look at him tapping on his wrist to signal the time. It’s a reminder that you’re here to work, not to continue the argument that sparked in the car. Your boyfriend rolls his eyes at your boss, sharing a hard stare with him before deciding to do something one should not do in front of their boss: dip down to kiss you, using your surprised gasp as a way to slide his tongue inside your mouth. In the five seconds he manages to tangle his tongue with yours, you completely missed the sound of the glass doors opening and the low whistle that came after, along with Yoongi’s chuckle and greeting to the person who just came in.

Shoving Jeongguk away by your hand on his chest, you try to cover your burning face with your other hand as an attempt to save your dignity in front of Yoongi, though you doubt it’s working at all. Jeongguk licks his lips then winks at you, squeezing your waist in his grip before stepping back to grab his cup of americano, now full of condensation sliding off the plastic cup. He takes a sip to taste test before scrunching up his nose.

“Could’ve been better,” he sneers, making you glare. “Alright, I’ll let you get to work. See you later, babe.” Then, after a second, turns to Yoongi to add: “you too.”

When Jeongguk disappears into his car, you put your head in your hands and let out the loudest groan known to man. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”

The mint-haired guy only gives you a gummy laugh, eyes turning into crescents as he shakes his head. “Your boyfriend is really something, Kiddo,” he muses. “A really … fun early morning entertainment, you could say.”

“Entertaining it was!” You hear the voice first before you see the person, the one who must’ve come in when you were rather preoccupied with your boyfriend. Park Jimin, your other coworker, slides behind the counter in a brown apron identical to yours and Yoongi’s, just minus the cap. Good, that means he doesn’t have a bad hair day today and can take the position at the register instead of you. You could use some more time to learn to make the drinks, anyway.

“Didn’t know you and your boyfriend were such exhibitionists, Kim,” Jimin taunts you, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. “Although, if my boyfriend were that hot, I would have wanted to exhibit him too…” He purses his lips in an exaggerated manner of faux thinking, obviously trying to rile you up. “Lucky you, Kim.”

“Shut up, Park,” you seethe through your teeth, slapping him with a dish rag while he cackles happily. “We’re not exhibitionists. You just have terrible timing.”

“Oh, it was perfect I’d say, just in time to catch sight of his tongue going into your mouth—”

“JIMIN!”

When Jimin continues making fun of you by making gross kissing sounds, you turn to Yoongi for help. As the oldest amongst you three, he must have a sound solution to get Jimin to stop making those awful sounds and put you out of your misery. Although, your trust in him is probably misplaced as Yoongi just chuckles and tells you something your own mom would tell you whenever you’re telling on Jeongguk: “Just ignore him, Kiddo.” The sacred word of ignore. “Go prepare the breakfast pastries now.”

So much for sound solution.

You go about your shift as usual, with Jimin manning the register like you planned to. Time goes by quickly when you’re busy working (and when your coworker is Park Jimin) that you didn’t realize it’s almost time for your shift to end. You glance at the line in front of Jimin and see that there are still three more people he needs to serve, while you and Yoongi still have about five tickets to finish before you can clock out and leave. Scratch that, might be eight tickets to go considering the workers who have their shift after you aren’t here yet. It’s gonna be a while before you can see your boyfriend and be a witness to an unnecessary fight between him and Yoongi.

“Hey, Kim, where’s your boyfriend? Didn’t you say he was gonna pick you up from work?” Jimin nudges your elbow when he finishes taking one customer’s order, sliding a plastic cup into the queue in front of you. “I want to see just how hot he really is,” he continues while wiggling his eyebrows.

Before you can slap the guy with your dish rag again—it’s looking more like your weapon rather than a cleaning tool at this point—Yoongi pipes up from his position in front of the sink. “Just look for someone with a tattoo sleeve. He loves brandishing it.”

“Ooh, a hot guy with tattoos,” Jimin whistles. “Add some piercings and I might steal him away from you.”

“Jimin, quit drooling over my boyfriend,” you sigh, taking the next cup in line as your coworker turns back to the register. He’s already starting to greet the next customer when you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, sliding next to him to brew the espresso needed for the order you’re making. “He has one on his lip, but he’s mine. Note that, Park,” you whisper to him while he’s keying in an order, earning a light chuckle from the man.

“He’s just messing with you, Kiddo, don’t mind him,” Yoongi chuckles from beside you, eyeing Jimin whose focus is currently on the cup he’s scribbling a customer’s name on. “He has his eyes set on someone else already.”

“Gossiping, aren’t we?” Jimin turns to you and Yoongi with a sleazy smile. “Careful now, unless you want Hoseok to know about your hot boyfriend too, Kim.” He gestures to the glass doors, where Hoseok from the next shift just walked through. He’s a great guy, but you’ve only shared a couple shifts with him, so you think you haven’t got to the point of sharing about significant others.

With the mention of Hoseok, you and Yoongi move to finish the orders you have left before handing over the shift to the aforementioned man. When all your orders are done and you’re ready to head to the backroom, you turn to ask Jimin to go with you only to find him still rooted in front of the register. “Jimin, you’re not going?”

“Oh, I’m actually covering for Eunbi.” Jimin shrugs, sliding a cup into Hoseok’s line of orders. “Go, Kim. Have fun with your boyfriend,” he grins, sending you a teasing wink.

Hoseok, a clueless witness, looks at the both of you with a scandalous stare. “What, what, what did I miss? Why are you winking like that, Park Jimin?” he says, urging Jimin to elaborate while pouring drinks into a plastic cup.

“You should ask her, Hobi,” Jimin snickers into his hand as he turns to greet a customer. Hoseok turns to you, his expression hopeful that you will shed light on the reason behind Jimin’s wink.

“My boyfriend is about to fight with our boss and I don’t know how to talk him out of it,” you say through your teeth, giving an overly-sweet smile to a confused Hoseok. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet him and make sure he’s not gonna bite Yoongi’s head off.”

“Bye, Kim,” Jimin sing-songs, waving his hand to you. “Say hi to your boyfriend for me!”

You’re already walking away, turning to tell Jimin off when you bump into Yoongi who’s just came out of the backroom, void of his work apron and ready to go. He grabs your shoulders to turn you around, pushing you into the backroom to prevent anymore banter between you and Jimin. “Let it go, Kiddo.”

In the backroom, you catch a text from Jeongguk saying that he’s already in the coffee shop, ready to go when you are. You emerge from the room after clocking out, moving your feet to the dining area of the cafe while waving to Jimin and Hoseok behind the counter. Scanning the room, you search for a familiar mop of black hair that belongs to your boyfriend.

It’s easy to spot Yoongi’s mint hair amongst the sea of other natural-colored hairs. What’s not easy is believing your eyes when you see the person sitting in front of Yoongi waving wildly at you, grinning like a mad man. It’s your boyfriend, the person you’re supposed to see after work, the person you’re supposed to supervise when he fights your boss later, alright, that part you know. The part that you don’t know and have a hard time believing is:

Jeongguk’s hair is mint.

Not black, not brown, not the experimental half-half he tried in high school. Mint.

The exact same shade as Yoongi’s.

It feels like you’re on autopilot when your feet carry you to their table, jaw on the floor while your eyes are stuck on Jeongguk’s freshly-dyed strands.

“Hi, babe,” your boyfriend has the audacity to say, lips stretching impossibly wider. He reaches up to run his fingers through his mint hair, an act so deliberate even Yoongi sighs at the sight of it, but it makes your heart skip a bit nonetheless. “Do you like my new hair?”

The light green strands previously tangled with his fingers fall back to cover his forehead and frame his face perfectly, the light hue somehow blending well with Jeongguk’s skin tone. It also accentuates his jaw more, making it appear sharper when the grin on his lips morphs into a smirk once he notices that you can’t stop staring. Oh, that smirk. Usually hot with his previously black hair, it is now lethal with his mint hair, toeing the line of playful and dangerous at the same time.

You want to scream at the obvious and cheesy question.

Yoongi, the third person who’s been watching the entire interaction unfold before his eyes, clears his throat. “If you’re done eye-fucking your boyfriend, can we go now? I have somewhere else to be after this.”

“Yoongi!” you whisper-shout, half scandalized, half disbelieving that your boss can say something so crude in the middle of his own buzzing coffee shop. Maybe he’s been hanging out with Park Jimin too much. (Or maybe he’s just sick of you drooling over your boyfriend time and time again … yeah, maybe that.)

“Can’t wait to lose to me, Min?” Jeongguk snickers, taking your hand in his as he follows Yoongi—who pointedly ignores his taunting question—towards the glass door of the coffee shop.

You catch Jimin’s eyes as you’re stepping out, his eyes rounding in surprise before a sly smile takes over his features. Have fun! he mouths, giving you a wink. Ugh, you’re gonna face a lot more questions the next time you have a shift together with him.

After another futile attempt at talking Jeongguk out of fighting with Yoongi, you’re seated where you usually are, on the sidelines of Jeongguk’s gym, this time with heightened anxiety out of fear that your boyfriend and your boss could hurt each other. You’re worried less about the physical part—boxing is a very physical sport, after all—and more about the mental part.

Boys are full of pride, full of ego. They pride themselves on their ability to box, delivering punch after punch until their knuckles bruise. They pride themselves on their muscles, bulging biceps that took years to build and maintain. They pride themselves on their strength, how they are able to hold you up against the wall when you’re busy sucking air off each other’s lungs.

Oh, and in case it’s not clear, by boys you mean Jeongguk.

You have a lot of faith in your boyfriend, of course, but knowing Yoongi’s boxing skills, no matter how long ago it was, the outcome of the fight today could just be the one that would hurt Jeongguk’s pride. The possibility of it happening is so high that you’re already preparing yourself for when Jeongguk comes back to you with his ego bruised. God, you can only hope Yoongi won’t hit too hard.

You’re too busy thinking of the many possible outcomes of this fight that you don’t realize when Jeongguk is back from putting his gloves on and warming up, now standing in front of you. “Wish me luck?” he says, along with a toothy grin your way.

“Yeah, good luck, Ggukie,” you reply, lacking your usual sarcastic bite. Jeongguk seems to pay no mind to it, though, ducking down to peck your lips before turning around to face his opponent for the day.

You catch Yoongi’s eyes when Jeongguk has his back to you, quickly mouthing don’t hurt him! to your boss, which he only responds with a smirk. All the blood drains from your face. Looks like your worries about someone getting his ego bruised won’t be just worries after all.

When the fight has started (Jeongguk’s coach started it—you’re grateful he’s there because then you don’t have to worry too much about Jeongguk and Yoongi beating each other to a pulp), you can’t help but watch. You just realize, in the years you’ve known Jeongguk and watched him box, you’ve never actually seen him fight anyone else other than his coach. He’s said before that he only took boxing as a way to work out, not to actually fight, so you guess that makes sense.

You don’t watch boxing matches a lot (actually, you don’t watch them at all), your only knowledge of boxing you get from watching Real Steel, a movie about boxing matches for robots, set in the far future when human boxing is not interesting anymore due to the limited brutality. You’re not sure how much information you retained from the movie, and how accurate they are, but you’re pretty sure you don’t need much boxing knowledge to know that right now, Yoongi is playing defensive while Jeongguk is playing offensive.

Alright, you admit, you have no idea if the terms you’re using are right, but it’s the simplest ones you can use to describe the sight in front of you. Since the start of the fight, Jeongguk has been throwing punches continuously, while Yoongi has had his gloved hands covering his face the entire time. Okay, not the entire time, but he’s only thrown one punch compared to Jeongguk’s one hundred ones.

As the fight goes on, Yoongi starts throwing punches here and there while still dodging Jeongguk’s aggressive fists. You’ve never seen Yoongi move this much in the entire time you’ve known him, and it surprises you how agile he is. The way he ducks under Jeongguk’s arm and throws him off balance is admirable, sometimes a little bit funny (just a bit, you promise) because it shows just how calm he is compared to Jeongguk’s aggressive, almost-angry boxing style.

When Jeongguk’s coach declares a break, your boyfriend walks back to you with his brows furrowed, tearing off one of his gloves so he can remove his mouth guard and grab his water bottle. After chugging down half of its content, Jeongguk heaves a frustrated sigh.

“I can’t grasp his fighting style,” he grumbles to himself. His eyes are set on Yoongi, who’s on the other side of the room, drinking from his own water bottle. “Who the fuck ducks all the time while boxing?”

“Maybe it’s because you keep throwing angry punches at him, babe,” you say, initially to keep his frustration at bay, but instead it makes him raise his eyebrow at you in a duh way. You backtrack immediately. “Okay, okay. But it’s just your first time fighting him, isn’t it? Be patient, Jeongguk, and maybe let up your punches a little bit?”

“Baby, it’s boxing,” he says exasperatedly. “Someone has to throw some punches.”

“I know, but you just seem so … angry. Yoongi’s only ducking to dodge that. I’m saying maybe you can tone it down so he could stop dodging, so then you can see his fighting style better.” You’re saying this while gripping his biceps, hoping your words can go through his seemingly-clouded mind. “When you see his fighting style, won’t it be easier to figure out a way you can beat him? Isn’t that what you taunted him with at the cafe?”

You know it’s not even remotely possible to learn one’s boxing style just from a single fight, let alone “figure out a way to beat him”. Somewhere in his fogged mind, you believe Jeongguk stores this fact as well, he’s just currently too deep in frustration to place it in the front of his mind. You’re not even sure your suggestion to learn Yoongi’s fighting style is registered well in his head, considering your boyfriend is now back to eyeing your boss with fire in his gaze.

“Jeongguk?” You give his shoulder a firm grip as he puts his mouth guard back on. “Tone it down. Yoongi could just be waiting to punch back. You don’t want that.”

Jeongguk parts ways with you with an absent-minded nod and two pats to your head with his heavy gloved-hand. On the other side of the room, Yoongi looks ready to go back into his fighting stance. You sigh internally. Jeongguk is so going to punch him aggressively, again.

The next thirty minutes of the fight goes like a blur in front of your eyes. Jeongguk throws a hook that Yoongi dodges, Yoongi retaliates with a jab to Jeongguk’s side which makes you wince, rinse and repeat. Maybe you’re wrong about your boyfriend for once, you think, seeing his calmer fighting style now. With the way he left your conversation minutes prior, you really thought he was gonna continue raining punches on any part of Yoongi’s body he could reach. You’re relieved that that’s not the case.

Although, perhaps your relief came too soon because a boxing match isn’t over until it’s over.

Watching Jeongguk fight with Yoongi is like watching a cartoon character with an energy meter atop his head, except for Jeongguk, it measures his patience instead. As the minutes went on, you feel like you could see the patience meter above his head depleting until it’s all gone, and that’s the moment he went back to his initial fighting style: aggressive and angry. You almost pull your hair out in frustration because you just know that this is what Yoongi has been waiting for ever since the fight started.

The next thing that happens reminds you a lot of one fighting scene in Real Steel, where Atom was waiting for his opponent to run out of energy so he can fight back. In the movie, Atom knocked the other robot down with a final uppercut, gaining him a win and advancing him to the next round. Well, uh, in this case, just replace Atom with Yoongi and the other robot with Jeongguk.

Yoongi’s clean uppercut wiped your boyfriend out, who’s now lying on the ground clutching his face—which you’re sure is beginning to swell right now. Despite already knocking Jeongguk down, Yoongi is still in his fighting stance, never lowering his guard even as Jeongguk’s coach counts to ten. Your boyfriend remains immobile, though, and the second the count is up you’re running towards Jeongguk’s limp body.

“Gguk, are you okay? Baby, look at me,” you say hurriedly as you try to pry his arms away from his face. He doesn’t budge, and for a second, you’re scared that Yoongi has maimed your boyfriend for life. “At least let me know you’re alive,” you continue when his silence becomes concerning.

“Hmmph,” Jeongguk grunts. You heave a huge sigh of relief.

“Okay, good.” You run your fingers through his sweaty hair, trying to offer some comfort even though you know he had this coming. Gigantic ego, big talk, cocky as shit? Yeah, you understand that Yoongi would want to knock him down a few pegs. But now is not the time to launch into an ‘I told you so’ spiel, not when Jeongguk is still freshly bruised—both his body and his ego.

So instead, you lash out at your boss.

“I told you not to hurt him, Yoongi,” you snap-slash-whine, a frown on your lips. You thought, as the oldest among all of you, Yoongi could be trusted to knock some sense into Jeongguk’s mind without physically hurting him like this. As it turns out, all boys are the same.

The older guy just shrugs. “Probably wouldn’t get my point across if he weren’t knocked down.” He shakes the sweat out of his hair as he starts taking off his boxing gloves. When he sees you’re not impressed, he chuckles. “Relax, Kiddo, I didn’t even hit him that hard. He’ll be okay.”

“Really, Yoongi?” You roll your eyes. “You gave my boyfriend an uppercut just to prove a point!”

Yoongi just continues laughing as he chugs from his water bottle. His nonchalance about this is starting to piss you off. Maybe it’s your turn to put on the boxing gloves and sock him in the face, give him a taste of his own medicine. You scoff to yourself, picturing your own body lying next to Jeongguk if you really did that.

“Just tell your boyfriend here that there’s no need to be jealous of me, Kiddo,” Yoongi says, picking up his bag. Just then, Jeongguk’s coach appears with an ice pack in his hand, offering it to you so you can place it against Jeongguk’s swollen jaw. Despite your attempt to coax him out of his arm cocoon, he still refuses to move.

“Yoongi, look at him, you really broke him.” You’re flat-out whining now, kicking your feet like a child. It doesn’t even occur to your mind that you’re all still in the middle of a public boxing gym, with other people around you, being witness to this ridiculous scene.

“Oh my God,” Yoongi laughs before crouching down at Jeongguk’s legs. “Hey, Jeongguk, you hear that? Your girlfriend is worried about you,” he says, nudging Jeongguk’s leg lightly. “She only has eyes for you and your tattoos, too, you don’t need to be jealous at all.” You smack him on the shoulder for that.

Jeongguk finally removes his arms from his face at Yoongi’s words, his doe eyes menacing. “Go away,” he grits out at the older male, his scratchy voice making him sound less threatening than he intended. Despite that, Yoongi still holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Yoongi relents, standing up while adjusting the hold he has on his bag. “Was gonna go anyway, I have a date to get ready for,” he throws a grin your way. “Alright, I’ll be going first. Take care of your boyfriend, Kiddo.”

Yoongi retreats with a wave towards you both.

Jeongguk lets out a groan, shifting your attention away from your boss who’s already backing his car out of the parking lot. “Quit your job tomorrow,” he says. “I hate your boss.”

“Stop moving around!”

“It hurts!”

You’re both back at Jeongguk’s house now, with you sitting atop his outstretched legs on the bed, attempting to take care of his battle wounds courtesy of his fight with Yoongi. Aside from the swollen jaw, Jeongguk has a cut on his eyebrow and a split bottom lip. For a boxing match, you’d say these are minor injuries—proving Yoongi’s words right, he didn’t hit Jeongguk that hard—but your boyfriend is acting like a baby. He keeps jerking his head away every time the alcohol swab comes in contact with either of his cuts, it irritates you to no end.

“You have a goddamn full sleeve of tattoo and a lip piercing, quit acting like this hurts more,” you hiss, pressing the cotton in your hand to the cut on his lip as Jeongguk hiss back in response.

“At least when I got my tattoos and piercing, the artist didn’t do it while yapping my ear off,” he lisps through the cotton. “What happened to the caring girlfriend at the gym? Did she go away too, alongside Yoongi?”

“Oh, shut up, if I yapped back there Yoongi would’ve stomped on your ego more than he already did, do you want that, Jeongguk? Huh?” Your words are harsh, but you try hard for your hands to be the opposite, gentle as they cover the cut on his eyebrow with a band-aid. Jeongguk’s forehead is still damp from his quick shower earlier, beads of mint clinging to his skin. He might look smoking hot with his newly dyed hair, but the way the color rubs off on anything is starting to get onto your nerves. You wipe lightly at the color to make sure the band-aid sticks to his skin and does not come off the second he jumps around again.

“My ego is fine, you don’t need to protect it like this,” Jeongguk grumbles, adjusting the ice pack he’s holding to his jaw as you press a new cotton ball on his lip, discarding the one stained crimson red to his bedside table. “Maybe if you care about me as much as you care about my ego, everything would’ve been better.”

The way he’s rambling like he got his sense knocked out of his head as well makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Don’t test me, Jeon. If I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t be here sitting on your thighs patching your minuscule injuries like they’re fucking wounds from a war.”

“Maybe,” Jeongguk half-agrees, a pout on his lips. “But you haven’t kissed me even once ever since the fight ended. Do I not deserve a kiss because I lost? Do you not want to kiss me ever again because I can’t beat Yoongi in boxing? Do you think Yoongi is way better than me now? Do you want him to be your boyfriend instead of me?”

With every nonsensical question, his pout deepens, and his eyes droop to stare blankly at nothing.

“Hah, ‘my ego is fine’ my ass,” you mumble, mostly to yourself as you turn the gears in your head on how to stop the bleeding on Jeongguk’s lip. It keeps gushing out blood, and you can’t exactly stick a band-aid to it like you did his eyebrow. At last, you just hold a cotton ball against it and hope it stops bleeding soon.

“Yoongi was right, you know,” you say clearly now, the tumble of Yoongi’s name out of your lips making Jeongguk glance up and focus his sight on your face. “You don’t need to be jealous of him at all. Heck, you don’t need to be jealous of anyone, Jeongguk. I’m your girlfriend and will always stay your girlfriend, no matter what. You don’t need to beat anyone in boxing or dye your hair the exact same shade as anyone for me to stay. You, Jeon Jeongguk, are enough.”

Jeongguk’s eyes, gazing into yours, are glassy with unshed tears. You don’t know if they are there because he’s touched by your words or are leftovers from crying over his bruised ego from the fight with Yoongi. Either way, it throws you off balance. Next thing you know, you’re being tugged down by the nape for a kiss.

Jeongguk’s lips are warm, like usual, but the tinge of metal you taste on your tongue is making you worry. Before you lose yourself in his kiss, you pull away to thumb at his lip lightly, seeing streaks of red on your skin. You’re about to continue pressing the cotton ball in your hand to his lips and stop all forms of kissing immediately, but your boyfriend has a mind of his own as he instead sucks your thumb into his mouth, wrapping his lips around the digit delicately as he holds eye contact with you.

Gone is the trace of any tears from his eyes, now replaced by something you can only identify as lust. As flattered as you are that Jeongguk finds you desirable in your current situation, it also makes you confused. He’s hurt and the only thing in his mind is getting his dick wet? Unbelievable.

The ice-cold feeling on your waist tears your attention away from Jeongguk’s dark eyes as you yelp, hand instinctively prying the cold thing away. The ‘thing’ turns out to be his hand, which was previously holding the ice pack to his swollen jaw. He’s sneaked his fucking cold hand under your shirt to hold your waist when he should’ve kept holding the ice pack to his jaw—his swollen jaw!

Your boyfriend has a swollen jaw, a busted lip and a cut eyebrow. This is not the time to be screwing around.

Pulling away your thumb out of Jeongguk’s mouth at the speed of light, you attempt to climb off his lap, but he’s read your mind even before they are conjured up in your own brain. His hands are back on your waist—yes, the cold one too—and they hold you firm in place. The side of Jeongguk’s lips turn up into a sickeningly sweet smile, before he tugs your body towards his, making your hips come in contact with his crotch. He’s hard. Oh, fuck.

“You know, I never really understood why you’re so bratty whenever you’re horny and I can’t tend to you right away, but I think I get it now,” he says right by your ear, making a shiver run down your spine. “I’ve been trying to will away my boner ever since you sat on my lap, but your weight on it is so damn distracting, it’s hard.”

“So,” he punctuates the word with a kiss on your neck, “I started saying anything to get my mind off it, but the way you care for me just … turns me on even more, if that was even possible.” He noses his way down your throat, coming to a stop at your collarbone. “And then all that talk about how I am enough … holy shit, I lost it. All I could think about was how I want to kiss you and fuck you into next week on this very bed.”

You can barely hear the last few words Jeongguk is saying, because he’s mumbling them into your skin as he peppers kisses and nips there. His fingers are now pressing into your back, pulling you closer and closer to him until there is no space left between you. You crane your neck so he can have more room to splash reds and purples onto your skin, sighing to the top of his mint head.

“You know, for someone claiming to be horny, you’re doing a terrible job at dirty talk,” you jab at your boyfriend, earning you a bite on your neck and a tightened grip on your body, making you close your eyes with stuttered breath.

“Easy, babe,” Jeongguk chuckles. “You talk as if you won’t be a moaning mess by the end of this,” he continues with much confidence. “But also, my lip is still kinda bleeding and my sides are still throbbing from the bruises. Kinda debating should we continue or just go to sleep.”

“Jeon Jeongguk I swear to God if you leave me high and dry—”

“Maybe you should kiss them better,” he cuts you off with a suggestion, his lips still trailing butterfly kisses on your neck and collarbone. The hands still on your back sneakily climb up and up until they’re reaching for the clasp of your bra, easily opening it to free your breasts from its confines. Your sound of protest gets stuck in your throat as a strangled moan comes out instead when Jeongguk massages your breasts tenderly with his fingers.

“Maybe I would—fuck—if you get rid of your shirt,” you say, tugging on the offending piece of fabric still covering your boyfriend’s gorgeous body. It’s not fair that he’s got you half naked already and he’s still fully clothed.

Jeongguk parts himself from your body long enough to tug his t-shirt off from the back of his neck in one smooth motion, exposing the golden expanse of his skin to your hungry eyes. If you thought his mint hair was smoking hot with his shirt on, it’s literally burning a flame of desire deep in your belly with his shirt off. You’re tongue-tied as you marvel at the sight in front of you, you almost jump when your own shirt and bra are taken off your body.

Now both bare from the waist up, Jeongguk wastes no time leaning back in for a kiss on the mouth, this time open-mouthed so he can slide his tongue inside. You keen happily, slipping a sigh in between as he slowly lowers you to the bed. Jeongguk anchors his hands on your hips, teasing at the waistband of your sweatpants as he keeps your mouth busy with his own. In contrast, your hands are everywhere, from his broad shoulder to his firm back, from his bulging biceps to his rock-hard abs. You even tease your fingers past his waistband, grabbing onto his ass and squeezing, making him groan hotly into your mouth. It’s only when your fingers brush against his sides that he winces, reminding you of his earlier request.

“Flip around,” you whisper against his lips, “so I can kiss your bruises better.”

“Hmm?” Jeongguk hums, your words a murmur in his head. “But I like having you like this. Under me, naked, panting, wet,” he says, slipping his hand beyond your sweatpants to prove his words right—you’ve soaked through your panties. He drags a finger slowly up your center. You shudder.

“Yeah? I can be naked, panting, and wet on top of you as well.”

“Ooh, tempting.” Jeongguk licks his lips. He flicks your clit with a cheeky smile dancing on his lips, before settling his hands back on your waist. “Alright, I’ll flip over.”

The next second, you’re staring at him from up top, admiring how his mint hair looks against his dark grey bed sheets. Although, his hair is the least of your concern right now, as you’re tugged back down for another bruising kiss. Now that you’re on top, Jeongguk takes the opportunity to return the favor that is slipping his hand into your pants to squeeze your ass, but his version involves pulling your hips down while his thrusts up, creating a delicious friction between your body that makes you exhale a moan into his mouth.

You move away from his lips, down to his jaw where you take care to land a kiss light as a feather, before moving to his neck and collarbone where you have your own share of bites and licks. Aside from your infatuation with his tattoos and biceps, you actually have another one with his collarbone, this one you keep secret from him lest he goes around the house shirtless more often just to brandish his clavicle. But maybe he’s already noticed from the way you always make sure to cover that body part of his in blooms of red and purple, taking care to trace each and every bite mark slowly with the tip of your tongue.

While you’re busy with his collarbone, Jeongguk keeps dragging your crotch steadily over his, like he can’t get enough of the feeling and wants to keep chasing it. The delicious pressure on your center is a bit distracting, so you smooth your palm across his chest to pinch at his nipple in warning. Jeongguk lets out a broken whine from his throat.

“Stop humping into me, do you want to cream your pants?” you chide, fingers still giving tiny pinches to his nipple to keep him on his toes.

“Was trying to get you to cream your pants,” Jeongguk grins guiltily, his hips snapping up yet again to collide with yours. Even if you roll your eyes at his antics, you still continue your journey of kissing down his body, making sure to suck and lick on his sensitive nipples. You love the moans and groans that slip out of his throat every time you do things to his nipples. He likes it so much that his hips keep chanting up, searching for friction, that you have to pin them down so you can slide down to pepper kisses on his abs and waist.

Jeongguk works really hard to maintain the body he has, clearly evident in the eight pack he’s sporting on his stomach and the tiny, minuscule waist that’s way too slutty for a man to have. Sometimes you’re jealous of how nice his body looks, how firm it is to touch. You told him this one time, along with your regret that you couldn’t give him a similar experience, but he’d only laughed and said that admiring and appreciating him was enough, before proceeding to show you how he admires and appreciates your soft body (he kept biting into your inner thigh as he was eating you out, coaxing you into four orgasms back to back that day.)

And so, you admire his body by kissing the taut muscle one by one, tracing the lines outlining them with your hot tongue, caressing his bruised waist with the pillow of your lips and the feather of your touch. You know he’s hurt, but you can’t hold yourself from nipping on his slutty waist, gifting him another bruise that’s not a result of a punch. From the choked sob that rips out of his throat and the jump of his dick somewhere on your stomach, you take it he likes the bite.

“So,” you say as you mouth at the seam of his waistband, hand massaging his hard cock through his pants. “Do you want to cum in your pants, in my hand, in my mouth, or—?”

“Fuck, in you, please,” Jeongguk begs, eyes glassy from your ministrations. “But can we go back to dry humping for a while? Kinda like the friction on my sweatpants,” he breathes.

“Like this?” You move your hand up and down his cock, dragging the material of his sweatpants with it, paying special attention to the head. With every rub of the sweatpants against his head, a bead of precum comes out, with Jeongguk throwing his head back in silent pleasure. “Yeah, fuuck, that feels good.”

“But babe, want you, on top,” he demands, making grabby hands at you. “Was serious when I said I wanted you to cum first,” he continues, sighs in content when you oblige, resuming your position on top of him and lining your clothed crotch with his. He starts dragging your hips against his, building the pleasure up the faster he goes. “Want to fuck your swollen pussy, dripping with cum. Oh, I’ll slide right in, no problem, so wet, warm … fuuuck.”

The grip Jeongguk has on your hips is bruising, you have no choice but to let your body be manhandled by him. Slowly but surely, the band inside your stomach begins to tighten as your hold on his shoulders does as well. You’re so close, just one more move to tip you over the edge. When Jeongguk sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, the band inside you snaps and you come with a jerk of your hips and a whine from your throat.

Jeongguk slows down his move, taking care not to cum before being inside you, before stopping altogether and wrapping his arms around you to bring the both of you into a sitting position. Your limbs feel like jelly, still trying to come down from your high, when Jeongguk pecks your cheek before carefully lying you back down on the bed with your face down. He then maneuvers himself behind you, lifting your hips off the bed. You’re starting to have an idea what position he wants you in when he spreads your knees and slowly peels back your pants and panties to reveal your bare ass and pussy.

He takes his time caressing the globe of your ass, inching his fingers towards your pussy lips before spreading them apart, tearing a low whine from your chest. You guess he’s admiring the way cum still drips out of your cunt, because he’s silent, immobile for almost a minute.

“Gguk…” you whisper out. “You gonna fuck me or not?”

Jeongguk scrambles to get his pants off. “Fuck, yes, of course, baby, you just look so beautiful like this, I want to stare all day long,” he breathes, lining up his dick with your entrance.

God, I’m so thankful you’re mine, is his last warning before he slides home in one thrust.

Later, when you’re both freshly showered and cuddling on Jeongguk’s bed—with blue bed sheets this time, because you forced him to change the sheets as the grey ones smelled gross after your activities—you ask him a question.

“Are you still jealous of Yoongi?”

There’s a three second pause before Jeongguk’s answer comes. “Maybe a tiny bit,” he says, nearly connecting his thumb and forefinger together in a ‘tiny’ motion. “Of his boxing skills only. Amazing how he could still move like that with an injured shoulder. I want to be like that too.”

“You want to injure your shoulder?”

He gives you a flat look. You giggle.

“His shoulder is actually healed, you know, so he’s still actively boxing until now. He trains the boxing club at my campus whenever our coach can't, that’s where I know him from and how I’d gotten the job at his cafe.”

Jeongguk purses his lips. “So he lied to me.”

“Hmm,” you agree. “I figured it was to ‘teach you a lesson’, that’s why I asked him not to hurt you before your fight. Did you, though? Learn your lesson?”

“What? To not be jealous of him?”

You pinch his waist. “To knock your ego down a peg and stop feeling insecure whenever I interact with other men?”

“Baby, the guy had a nickname for you. My insecurities were valid!”

“You mean the ‘Kiddo’ one?” you ask. Jeongguk nods. “He calls Jimin Kiddo. He calls Eunbi Kiddo. He calls you Kiddo. He calls everyone younger than him, Kiddo.”

More silence ensues.

“So … my jealousy was for nothing?”

“Yes! What I’ve been saying!”

Jeongguk giggles. Then he kisses you. Then he giggles again, while still kissing you.

“How about an apology?” he offers.

“In what form?” you challenge.

“Round three?”

“No.”

Well, at least he’s not jealous anymore.

a/n: thank you for reading!! please let me know what you think of this, i literally almost cried in the process of writing it and when i finally finished it :') and yes this started because of that one mint jeongguk in memories 2020/2021, i think? the one with him in a black sleeveless and a pair of sunglasses, hahah. wish he'd dye his hair mint again (he looks rly good in it ugh)

→ request is open for my 1k folls celebration!

Class Act

synopsis; in which Namjoon is the popular jock and you’re just another girl in the bleachers. OR what happens when the gentle giant takes notice of the introverted, yet dedicated fan?

pairing; college jock!namjoon x college student!reader

genre; angst, fluff, humor, smut, s2l, f2l, college au, jock au

warnings; classic college tropes, angst in the form of cheerleaders(but not all!) misjudging reader, reader has some body image issues, but mainly just a whole bunch of sweet jock Namjoon for your pleasure, a letterman jacket kink rises to the surface, reader is awkward, joon is a patient angel baby cause he’s in lOoOve with reader so much 🥺 uhhhhm there will be sexual intercourse and it will be soft and cute with protection being used cause they smart cookies(and so are you!)

rating; 21+ MINORS DNI

w/c; 4,744

a/n; happy birthday to our favorite accident prone, gentle giant, dimple baby Kim Namjoon! like + reblog if you enjoyed. don’t be a silent reader! <3 feedback is always appreciated and helps to keep this writer motivated to put out more content — like this! all the love, always.

networks; @ficscafe, @thebtswritersclub, @btshoneyhive, @kflixnet

It was another chilly September evening.

The flood lights that surround the football field are bright as ever, allowing the football players to continue playing as the night continues on.

You secure your jacket tighter around your shivering figure, the unforgiving wind still somehow making it through the thick material no matter how hard you try otherwise. The people around you both cheer when your team scores a touchdown, and boo when the away team does.

All of that is trivial, however, seeing as your main focus is on the tallest member of the team, making it easier for you to decipher him amongst the other players.

Kim Namjoon. The gentle giant.

The bleachers erupt into a fit of cheers, hooting, and hollering, your team winning the game by a landslide. Not that you ever doubted it. Namjoon and the other players gradually make their way off the field and towards the locker rooms to get washed up. With your seat being next to the corridor that they walk through, you get a good luck as they go by.

Namjoon is waving politely at those that chant his name in earnest. He’s not the quarterback, but he’s just as popular, if not more. His talents are phenomenal when it came to the sport, everyone sure that he was going to get recognized by an agent and signed by end of his college career.

You join the rest of those that chant his name, though your voice is easily drowned out by those who aren’t afraid to scream their hearts out. For a split second, your eyes lock with his. That dimpled smile widens, and you woefully wish it’s due to you, though you know that can’t be true considering you’ve never gained the courage to talk with him.

You imagine it’s cause of you anyways.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

The following Monday you’re taking your normal stroll through the large campus courtyard. It’s littered with students that share the same goal as you, making it to their class on time. Up ahead, you see the jocks and cheerleaders formed in their usual circle located next to the fountain that’s planted dab in the middle of said courtyard.

You spot Namjoon easily.

He’s laughing from something that Cherry said, cheer captain and from what you heard, now ex of Kim Namjoon. From their interaction, you wonder if those were just rumors, or maybe they just ended on good terms. You wouldn’t put it past Namjoon to stay civil in that kind of situation.

Due to your zoning out on the dimpled male, you fail to watch where you’re going, and make the fatal mistake of knocking into Jin, another member of the football team. The action causes a domino effect from the force in which you accidentally plow him with, ultimately making Cherry stumble into Namjoon and having him catch her effortlessly. His face is worried as he asks if she’s okay, she says yes.

His eyes then flicker to yours, as does everyone around him when they realize that you’re the culprit.

“Aiiiiish! You should be apart of the team with that powerful of a tackle, y/l/n.”

Jin turns and jests at your embarrassed figure good naturedly, a grin on his face so as to show there’s no hard feelings on his part. The same sentiment can’t be said for a few of the cheerleaders who were collateral damage.

“You’re right, Jin. She’s certainly built like a dude.” Cherry’s co-captain and best friend sardonically chimes in with a smirk on her face. The comment creates scattered laughter throughout the group in agreement, all except for Namjoon, you notice.

Your face flushes at the jab, you being well aware that your chest wasn’t quite as developed as most women your age. Your lip trembles, and you bite it in hopes of stopping the tears that begin to build in your eyes. You make a show of deeply bowing to the group, mumbling a ‘sorry, please excuse me’ before standing up straight and briskly walking past.

Namjoon makes a step towards your retreating figure, promptly getting stopped by Cherry’s hand that curls itself around his bicep. His face that was once full of worry for his ex, still held the same expression, but this time for you.

He made a mental note that next time he saw you he was going to apologize on behalf of his so called ‘friends’.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

You make it to class without a hitch. The day drones on like it always does, and it’s not until that final bell rings do you sigh in relief. You clutch your binder into your chest, both arms folded around it as you step back outside into the courtyard, this time with the end destination being your bed.

You get close to the school gates before you’re stopped by a loud voice. A loud, familiar voice.

“Y/N! Hey! Wait up!”

You stiffly turn in the direction where the voice is coming from, seeing Kim Namjoon in all his beautiful, letterman jacket wearing glory make it to you in a second flat from his long legged strides. Your knuckles turn white from how hard you’re holding your binder now, something Namjoon’s eyes dart to as he gets close enough to stand a few feet away from your shorter figure.

His full, dimpled smile is on display, and this time you know for a fact that it’s meant for you only. Your brain malfunctions, and you miss the words that come out of his mouth next, the only thing you register is his lips moving to form said words.

You blink. Once, twice. His smile doesn’t falter, but he does lean in closer to your face, one slender finger coming up to gently poke the crease in between your brows that seemed to form without you knowing. It must be from how confused you are about the situation at hand.

As if time unpaused itself, your brain clears up enough for you to speak, though your voice cracks when you do.

“I’m–, I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I was asking if you were available to accompany me to this new diner that opened up down the street. I wanted to treat you.”

His hands are stuffed into his letterman jacket, he’s rocking himself on the balls of his feet as he waits for your answer patiently. Eyes staying trained on your face, he surveys out of his peripheral the outfit you’re wearing. It’s cute, different, unique. He likes it, a lot.

Your eyes narrow, and for the first time does his usually confident smile begin to dim.

“Is this some kind of a bet?”

His eyes widen, face crestfallen at your misconception of his genuine interest in you.

“Excuse me?” Now it’s his turn to gain those creases between his brows.

“Are your friends going to pop out of the bushes and yell ‘gotcha!’?”

He doesn’t miss the way you elongate the word friends with a hint of distaste on your tongue. He’ll be the first to admit that his choice of company can be downright rude, and wonders what other slurs you had to endure by them before he transferred to this college his junior year.

“No, they’re not. I promise I only come to you with good intentions and on the basis of wanting to get to know you better. Is that alright with you?” He ends with a question, and once again awaits your answer. There’s no signs of malice or ill intent as he looks at you, but you can’t help the walls you’ve built over the years.

Pursing your lips, you reply.

“No, thank you. I wouldn’t want to further endure the wrath of the cheerleading squad when your girlfriend finds out. So, good day.”

You pivot on your heel, decision resolute.

An enlarged hand grasps your own, and you stop in your tracks, back towards him.

“She’s not my girl–well, she was-but not anymore. We broke up awhile ago. Like, months ago. She even has a new boyfriend already, he’s a cool dude.”

He’s nonchalant when he speaks, his grip on your hand loosens when you turn your attention back on him, but he still keeps ahold on your hand incase you attempt to ditch him again.

“Only you would talk highly of an ex’s new boyfriend, I swear. You’re like a freaking unicorn.”

He lets out a bellowing, open mouthed laugh that seems to take over his entire face, his eyes crinkling, that reverberates through his hand and into yours, causing your arm to shake lightly as a result. A hint of a smile appears on your face that makes him gasp in pure delight.

He points at your mouth with a cheeky, dimpled, grin.

“There’s that smile!”

Your immediate reaction is to hide your face in your chest, an action he prevents you from doing as he uses his other hand to cup your chin and steer your gaze back onto his. His hand is still warm from its previous home in his jacket, you note, despite the cold air around you two.

“You shouldn’t hide your face, it’s pretty.”

From that point on, you were hooked.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Once again, you’re walking your normal route to class within the courtyard. Namjoon and his group of friends are a few yards away from you, but this time when he notices you, he makes a point to break away with haste, apologies spew from his supple lips to those he squeezes past to get to you.

Jin is the last to let him past, giving you an enthusiastic wave. Even Cherry and her posse give you smiles in greeting that you return. Namjoon’s arms encase themselves around your waist as he hoists your small frame and twirls you both in a circle. He’s still holding you up off the ground, and you slowly slide down enough to plant a soft, but meaningful kiss on his lips. You could feel him smile into it, and it makes your teeth clash for a moment.

When you mutually pull away for fresh air, you barely have time before he’s peppering you with kisses all over your face. From behind, Jin patronizes you both on your disgusting public display of affection.

“Oi! Get a room you two!”

Using one arm to hold you, he makes a point to flip Jin off with his free hand that makes you roll your eyes at their antics. You give him a few pats on his shoulder, your way of telling him to set you back down on solid ground. He pouts cutely, but obliges.

Throwing an arm around your shoulder instead, your fingers thread through his dangling ones over your shoulder as he leads you to your first class of the day. Too soon do you arrive, and he leans against the side of the wall next to the door with his lips already puckered in waiting. You lean up this time to oblige his height as best as you can, not noticing when he subtly leans down further to accommodate your height difference.

Inbetween kisses, he asks you a question.

“Am I still able to come over after the game tonight?”

His eyes are hopeful, smile widening when you nod in affirmation to his question. He gives you a loving pat on the head, before using both hands to secure your head long enough for him to plant a kiss on your forehead and then he’s off and heading to his own class with a wave of his hand, barely managing to dodge a gaggle of girls in time before crashing into them.

You wave back with a shake of your head at your clumsy giant, smile of your own adorning your face as a light hue rises in your cheeks of what’s to come.

You couldn’t wait.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Just like in the beginning, you’re back in your favorite spot on the bleachers to watch your now boyfriend own the field like he always does. Off to the side, not to far from where you are, you catch a snippet of conversation between a dude who looks way to formally dressed to be at a college football game and Namjoon’s coach. When Namjoon’s body hurdles by them with the football in hand, does the formal guy point at Namjoon with a serious look on his face. His coach crosses his arms over his chest with a puff of his chest, a smug smile on his face as he nods to whatever the formal dude is saying.

Huh. You wonder what that’s about.

You join the rest of the crowd around you in a standing, deafening applaud for the entire football team as they make their way through the corridor after a major win of the season. Your eyes scan the members in search of Namjoon’s loving eyes, but you don’t see him.

It’s not until your eyes shift back towards the field, do you find him with his helmet tucked under his arm, a beaming smile on his face as he talks to coach and mystery dude. The latter pats Namjoon on the shoulder as you make your way slowly down the bleachers to the stairs that lead to on the field. When your feet touch the astroturf and you begin your small trek to the three men, does the mystery dude bid his goodbyes and walk past you.

The coach and Namjoon are hugging each other tightly, coach shouting praises at Namjoon.

“I knew you would be something kid. I just knew it!”

“Thanks, coach. This wouldn’t have been possible without you!”

You walk up as they separate, and you have a wary smile on your face, your gut telling you that you just might know what transpired, but choosing to stay silent and wait for Namjoon to tell you himself.

If possible, his smile becomes broader when he sees you. Dropping his helmet to the ground, he ditches it in favor of holding your body tightly against him. You hug him back just as enthusiastically, his breath fanning your ear as he speaks.

“I did it, baby! I got recruited for a team!”

You gasp in astonishment, eyes watering due to how happy you are for Joon. This has been his goal for as long as he could throw a football, you couldn’t be more proud of him. Your arms tighten around his neck as you bury your face into him. He can feel your body shake with happy sobs, and can’t help the emotion of the moment when he joins you in the sobfest.

The coach is long gone when you two collect yourselves, Namjoon using his thumbs to wipe the tear streaks from your face as he smiles at you lovingly. Your nose is red and eyes are puffy, but he’s never seen you look more beautiful than you do at this moment.

He leans down to kiss you. It’s soft, slow, but full of passion.

“I love you, y/n.”

The words are whispered between kisses and instead of responding with words, you opt for action in the form of deepening the kiss with a mix of tongues as you battle for dominance.

He wins. He always wins.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Namjoon is manspreading on your bed wearing nothing but black boxers, arms behind his head as he watches your shy, hesitant body make its way past the frame of the door. Your arms are crossed over your chest in self doubt of how risqué you chose to dress yourself tonight for Namjoon’s pleasure – and your own.

It’s a sheer, black, silky slip that caught your eye in the mall recently. The lady that helped you pick it out reassured you that you would look so good that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you. But, as you look at his now stiff body, face void of emotion, you conclude it must’ve just been her trying to meet her sales quota for that day.

Your body folds in on itself, your flight response immediately wanting to kick in and save you from your utter embarrassment at trying and failing to look sexy. Namjoon snaps out of his lust induced haze to see your fear stricken one, and he instantly hops off the bed to secure you within his arms with endearing words of praise spoken into your hair as he rocks you both side to side.

“I’m sorry, baby. My brain fried there for a second when I saw how gorgeous you look.”

He pulls away, but keeps his hands on your shoulders, rubbing the tops of them occasionally as his eyes rake over your perfectly curved, thick figure with both love and lust.

“Just gorgeous?”

His eyes snap to yours when your meek voice passes your lips, his brows scrunching in confusion. He goes to question you, but you beat him to the answer.

“I was trying to go for more along the lines of sexy–,” your eyes look everywhere but his as you continue, self deprecating thoughts fill your mind for a moment as you become your own worst critic. “–I bet if I had bigger boobs–,”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.”

His hand on your chin, makes you look at him. His eyes hold nothing but warmth when he speaks.

“You are sexy, baby. So fucking sexy.”

Your eyes widen, a soft gasp escapes your lips. He trails one hand down your arm and to your hand, before he’s leading you both back to your bed. Guiding you to lay down, he then takes a moment to savor the way your body naturally parts your legs in anticipation of him being between them. Not wanting to disappoint, he kneels between your legs and uses the strength of his arms to hover over your form.

“I don’t want you ever doubting how I feel about you, okay? If you’re feeling down, let me know. I’ll be glad to show you otherwise.” A cheeky smirk adorns his face and your cheeks tint, small smile beginning to curl at the edge of your lips.

“There’s that smile I love.”

“Shut up.”

You pull him down by his neck to kiss him, it starts out slow and sensual, before turning into a kiss of pure need for one another. Your bodies react, his lower half grinds into yours and you can feel the effect you have on him. You whimper into the kiss, the weight of his crotch rubs deliciously into your clit that makes you want more.

“Please, Joonie. No teasing.”

“Fine, fine. One thing though, something I always wanted to try.”

You tilt your head in bewilderment when he pushes himself off of you to cross your room to the duffel bag that lays on the floor next to your desk. Unzipping it, he ruffles through the contents until he finds what he’s looking for – his letterman jacket.

He makes his way back to you and gestures for you to sit up, which you do. Grabbing the bottom of your slip dress, he helps you pull it off until your left nude in front of him. He bites his lip, and throws the jacket around your shoulders, encouraging you to slink your arms through the sleeves, which again, you do. He then sits back to both admire you and take in his fantasy come to life.

You wearing nothing but his letterman jacket.

His Adam’s apple bobs, pupils blown, as you yourself admire the jacket around you. The semi rough material rubs against your nipples and makes them harden. The scent of Joon is all over it, and you can’t help but bring the collar up to your nose to savor it with your eyes closed in content.

A shaky exhale is what has your eyes popping back open to witness Namjoon sink to his elbows between your legs. You whine at his actions.

“Joon, I said no teasing tonight.”

“Baby, please? This has been a fantasy of mine for a long time now, I just want to taste you real quick.” He whines back cutely, full on pout plastered on his face that you just can’t say no too.

You give a mock huff of feigned annoyance and let yourself plop back comfortably onto the pillows beneath you, he pumps a fist in the air in triumph that has you lightly hitting him in the back of his head with the heel of your foot to hurry up.

Then, he doesn’t waste any time.

He dives in, planting one solid lick to your outer folds that leads to the hood of your clit. He places one hand between you both to gently tug the hood of your clit up so he can blow softly on it. The cool sensation makes your body erupt with goosebumps, and then he’s placing a hard suck on your clit that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your knees unconsciously begin closing upon contact, but he uses his other free hand to hold one of your legs down, preemptively giving him better access to your core.

He switches his attention from your clit, and down to your now glistening hole, where he allows his middle finger to slide inside up to the knuckle, taking it out a second later to rub circles around your hole. Your hips buck, hole clenching around nothing, missing the intruding digit already. He continues this torturous routine until you start to become frustrated at your lack of relief, the edging beginning to take a toll on you.

“Namjoon, you better start–,” you begin to berate him, but your words turn into soft pants when he chooses at that exact moment to add two more digits into your hole at a fast pace, curling them to the point he’s able to feel your soft spot. His pace is unrelenting as you grip the sheets, back arching and mouth parting in a silent scream. Your toes begin to curl and he watches with hooded eyes as you come undone for the first time that night before him. Your orgasm washes over your spasming body in waves, and he’s quick to replace his fingers with his big mouth to lewdly slurp up your essence like a man starved for water. Some of it eludes his mouth to dribble down his chin and onto the bedding beneath you.

“Fuck. Namjoon. Stop. I can’t.”

You beg breathlessly, fingers gripping his hair in a vice to lift his head off your oversensitive pussy. He places one last wet kiss to each of your inner thighs, then trails up your body to your breasts. He takes one in each hand, gently massaging them to squish them together so he can take advantage of his big mouth and tongue to both lick and suckle each nipple with the same amount of attention.

You use the opportunity to come down from your high, to a still pleasurable, but not overbearing different kind of stimulation. After a few minutes, he uses one hand to push down his boxers enough to kick them off the bed with his feet. Getting back up on his knees, he reaches over the side of you to your side table drawer and fetches out a condom you make sure to keep just incase. He opens it and rolls it on, being sure to pinch the tip to make room for his own slick to fill.

He lines up his length with your still semi spasming hole, but looks up at you with a question in his eyes that gets answered just as quietly when you wrap your legs around his waist. Both of you let out a grunt of satisfaction when he stills, fully inside.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t realize your eyes closed on their own as your body adjusted to Namjoon’s girth. When you open them, you see his face hovering over yours with concern pooling in his.

“I’m good, Joon. You can move.”

Leaning down, he gives you a lingering kiss on your lips as he begins to move his hips against yours. He doesn’t go fast, choosing tonight as one to be savored. It’s an important one after all, he wants to remember it.

You thrust your own hips up in the slow, rhythmic tempo that he’s set, encouraging him to his first orgasm of the night. He buries his face in your neck, giving sloppy thrusts until he stills. Using what little strength you have left, you place the palms of your hands on his chest and push him until he’s laying on his back on the bed. You take your time straddling him, rubbing your folds against his length once, twice – it’s not until the third swing of your hips does he place his hands on your love handles in order to guide his length back into your warmth.

You chuckle at his impatience, and he glowers at you playfully.

“I thought you said no teasing?”

“Figured I’d give you a taste of your own medicine is all.”

You’re playing innocent, but he knows better. He lets you ride him at your own pace, letting his hands roam all over your breasts, your stomach, your thighs. Eventually, when he feels your walls begin to constrict around his own growing length, does he drop his hand where you two meet in order to rub soft, yet perfect amount of weight on your clit to help spur both of your impending orgasms.

Throwing caution to the wind, you splay your hands on his chest to get better leverage and a better angle, increasing your pace from a slow one to a fast one that has both of you a panting mess trying to chase your highs at the same time. You let out a broken whimper and he knows you’re closer to yours, but he wants to cum at the same time as you, finding the rare occurrence just another way of togetherness in his mind between you both when it does happen.

Easing his assault on your clit, he plants his heels into the bed to thrust up at a brutal pace, his cock pistons in and out of your sopping hole and you let out a sob at the orgasm that suddenly hits you at the same time that his does. He only stops when you can’t hold yourself up anymore and choose to lazily plop yourself off to the side of him on the bed, face flushed, eyes closed, and ready for sleep already.

He’s not too far behind you, wanting to crash after that love making session, but he needs to clean up first and so do you. He gives your ass a light slap and you groan into the pillow in reply.

“Let’s clean up, baby. Then sleep.”

You flip him off. He playfully bites your fingertip.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

The next day you’re both taking an early morning walk around campus, your small hand held tightly in his large one. Ever since last night, he takes any chance he can get to see you wearing his letterman jacket, so that’s what you’re currently wearing over your outfit.

You don’t mind though, in fact, you love it.

Like you love him.

So, you say it for the first time since he’s confessed.

“Joon?” He looks down at you with a curious look on his face, and waits patiently for you to speak when he notices how shy you’re getting. It brings him back to the first day he met you.

“I love you too.”

Your favorite dimpled smile makes an appearance. You two meet in the middle for a loving kiss. You go to pull away, but he secured a hand on the back of your neck to keep you a hair width away as he speaks lowly, honestly.

“I always saw you.”

You tilt your head in confusion.

“Saw me?”

“Yeah. In the bleachers. You went to every game. I even saw the sign you made with just my number on it, but it helped me get that winning touchdown.”

“You’re joking.”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

A puff of laughter escapes your lips, your lips grazing his during the act that has him chasing yours for another. His shoulders bounce as he lightly laughs along with you.

Another reason you love wearing his jacket? It lets everyone around you know that you’re his.

That you would always be his.

admiring from afar

characters: jeon jungkook x female reader.

summary: you owed a friend a favour, a favour which entailed a blind date. but the catch, it was only blind on your side.

genre/rating: strangers to lovers au (?), blind date au with a lil angst. a lil fluff. and a lot of smut (minors do not interact). 18+

word count: 10.1k

warnings: very awkward first encounter, jk is slightly obsessed, mentions of heartbreak and insecurities, oh so v dramatic, mature language, a lil cheesy romance, and very passionate sex. smut warnings (18+): body worship, slight dom/sub dynamics, soft dom!jk, oral (fem and male recieving), fingering, so much praise, dirty talk, very intimate, lots of kissing, biting/marking, overstimulation, protected sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, power play, manhandling, needy!jk, lots of cum, and aftercare <3

a/n: hi. a quick backstory, i used to write on here. but lost inspiration. and now i am back, with new inspiration. i have been army for fourteen months now (a lil baby), and i want to start writing again. i didn’t mean for it to be this long btw. anyways, i hope you like this but lmk! feedback is always appreciated. i really wanna interact and get to know people on here :) disclaimer: i am not a professional writer by any means, so this is no shakespeare masterpiece. but it’s something lmao.

So maybe it was just a tiny bit awkward, which was not entirely your fault. Blind dates weren’t your forte per se. And clearly, they were not his either.

Exactly three minutes and thirty-two seconds had passed since you sat across from the mysterious man. The number was oddly specific because the nerves had you checking your wrist every two seconds.

What had you so nervous in the first place? It could be the fact you were seventeen minutes late. Or maybe that the dress code for this date had been lost in translation. Or the fact you can't remember the last time you were on a proper date.

No, you were nervous because you were sat across from, possibly, the most beautiful man on the planet. His aura radiated confidence, power and prowess. If you were watching an animal planet documentary, he would be on the top of the food chain. The apex predator.

It was intimidating. You sat on the uncomfortable wooden stool, allowing his dark eyes to consume you. At first glance, they had seemed innocent as if they belonged to a child. It was the first thing you had noticed about the man. However, just as a kid, the initial curiosity had settled. They had been judging you, sizing you up.

They had explored your appearance and features, before glancing at his own watch. Evidently, not pleased with your tardiness. His eyelids relaxed, covering the whites of his piercing gaze. You had weakly smiled at the gesture, offering an apology as you hesitantly took a seat.

Your hands had immediately found a home on your lap, intertwined and sweaty. This had not been the plan for the first interaction. It felt as though you were in the principal's office. Your index finger and thumb pinched your dress as you began to rethink and regret every decision.

You wore a simple mid-length black dress, that hugged your body. It wasn’t fancy by any means, but, before the date, you had googled the location, information that your friend kindly shared. It was a small bar, off the beaten track, hidden in a corner of the buzzing city. A den of sorts. You had thought it was a speakeasy.

Your company for the evening had decided on a much more casual outfit. Denim jeans and a black oversized shirt. You noticed a black leather jacket on the stool next to him, a packet of cigarettes peeking out from the pocket. A tattooed hand caressed a glass of whiskey on the small oak table. Why was he so frightening in this setting?

The bar was quiet. Three other couples and a few stranglers occupied the cosy setting. Your eyes quickly surveyed the area, mapping out a safe escape. Like you were cornered prey.

You don’t know if it was the flames that were ablaze in the fireplace, but the temperature had grown exponentially causing the light makeup to become dewy in the lowly lit room. Lips were dry as you tried to find the words to finally break the silence.

The man silently watched your struggle, enjoying the way you were melting beneath his gaze. He wasn’t a cruel man, but he found it amusing that he had this effect on you. A total stranger.

“Are you okay? You aren’t sick are you?” He teased with a slight smirk appearing across his face, which he graciously hid by raising the glass to his lips.

Your heart snapped, chest tightening. This was utterly embarrassing. “No.” You muttered, ripping the cropped jacket from your body. “Just very hot in here.” His tongue poked at his cheek concealing the smile. His action made the room a thousand times hotter.

“A red wine for the lady.”

Startled, you twisted your body to face the intruder. “I was told that was your go to.” You heard the stupidly handsome man say, as you thanked the bartender who placed the drink in front of you.

“Um, yeah. That was very kind of you. Thank you.” The end of your sentence drifting off into the humid air as you were reminded that you had no idea who he was.

“Jungkook.”

You shyly nodded, as if you were being scalded for not answering a question right. Fuck, this was pathetic. Grabbing the wine glass, you took a gulp. Not very ‘lady-like’, but liquid courage was needed if you were to continue to look this man in the eye.

“Y/N” you answered, wiping the red stain from your lips.

He chuckled at the action. Which for some unknown reason, he thought was cute. But nothing was cute about this scenario.

He had anxiously waited nearly twenty minutes for your arrival. Fingers tapping his empty whiskey glass, silently praying you would show up. He may have had one or two before you arrived, trying to calm his own nerves.

His older friend, Namjoon, had mentioned you multiple times. Telling stories of your shared college years and your friendship. He painted you out to be this outgoing, caring, and smart woman. How if he was ever in trouble, you’d be the person he’d call. Mature, reliable, and loyal. All these attributes were what Jungkook desired in a partner. What he needed.

Admittiedly, Jungkook was lost. His life had been a struggle. He hadn’t found his place in the world yet. But slowly and surely, he could feel himself getting there. Finding himself amongst the masses. And this was his chance.

When Namjoon mentioned you had thought about dating again, Jungkook practically begged him to set up the date. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook had been admiring you from afar.

Everything he had learned about you from Namjoon had solidified his interest in you. From your hobbies to your habits. You weren’t a stranger to him. He wasn’t a creep or a stalker. But when your name was mentioned in conversation, his ears perked. Absorbing every minor detail.

The second your frame appeared through the door, Jungkook’s heart plummeted to his stomach. If he was hooked to a monitor, it would’ve flatlined. Completely, entirely beautiful. Jungkook had seen photos of you with Namjoon, at a party or a gathering. But he swore, as cheesy as it sounded, they did you no justice.

But because Jungkook was still a boy a heart, he thought the best way to approach this date was to act cool and reserved. Thus, he mentally slapped himself, gathering composure as you entered the bar and walked towards him.

So the evident awkward atmosphere was also partially his fault.

“Namjoon has mentioned you before” you chirped, distracting Jungkook from the internal beating he was giving himself.

“Oh yeah? Only good things I hope” Jungkook cringed, wanting to slam his face against the table. Jin and his Dad jokes had subconsciously infiltrated his brain.

You giggled causing his ears to ring. Was he dying? If so, an angel sat before him, radiating the kindest, warmest smile he had ever experienced. He wanted to record that moment and put it on a loop for eternity.

The sudden change in Jungkook’s behaviour helped you regain some composure. The hard exterior was slowly breaking in front of you.

Namjoon had forced you onto this blind date. Claiming this guy would be your type. And also pointing out that you owed him for the countless calls he had to endure after your not-so-gracious breakup. Which you had countered by saying ‘that is what friends are supposed to do’ to which he argued ‘the amount of times he had carry you home after a drunken night was excessive’.

Maybe not your finest moment. But your ex had blindsided you, abruptly announcing he wasn’t in love with you anymore.

Namjoon has told you nothing about who you were meeting. Just that he was a friend. But you didn’t know it was that friend.

“Well, he mentioned that you are a bit, um, wild” you admitted, biting your lip as you avoided his stare. Shit, how long have you been running from eye contact at this stage?

Let’s say, Namjoon had once or twice, talked about his dismay regarding his younger friend's actions. His reckless behaviour was not appealing to his friend. They had shared an apartment for exactly twelve months before Namjoon called quits.

Jungkook’s eyes bulged at the discovery that his friend had shit-talked him to his crush. Sighing, his hand swooped through his hair as he concluded that this date was doomed. His chance disappearing before him.

“But” you continued. “He also mentioned how hard-working and determined you are. That you don’t turn away at the first obstacle. Which is admirable.”

Your eyes and his lock. The once intimidating gaze had disappeared, a softer, hopeful one replacing it. You were slightly confused.

“I am still trying to figure it all out honestly.” He spoke, nearly whispering the sentence as if he was ashamed. “I just want to try everything, give everything my all before I decide whether it’s what I want or not. I wouldn’t say that is admirable.” He clarified, chuckling as to mask his anxiety.

Why, of all people, did he think you were the person to expose his deepest feelings? Probably the alcohol. Easiest thing to blame.

“It tells me a lot about the kind of person you are.”

Silence. Jungkook didn’t know what to make of your comment. Was that a good thing? Did you like that kind of person? Absorbed in his thoughts, he stiffened. The awkwardness returning. You grabbed your glass of wine, taking a final sip.

“I am sorry Jungkook, but this doesn’t seem like it’s going to work.”

Shattered, his skin turned pale. A disaster. He couldn’t even spark your interest for longer than thirty minutes. Hesitant, he nodded, chugging down the remains of his own drink.

“No need to apologise Y/N. It was worth a shot” he smiled, trying to hide the heartbreak. He really did think he had a fighting chance. To win over the girl of his dreams.

“Let me walk you home, it is late. Namjoon would kill me if he found out I left you out there by yourself.”

“Thank you, but I only live five minutes away. I will be fine—“

“Please, I insist.”

You debated, maybe it was a bit late to be walking home alone. “If you are sure.”

Jungkook immediately grabbed his jacket, throwing it around his broad frame before gathering your bag and jacket, handing them to you. “Let’s go.”

Thanking him, you wrapped yourself in the light material, clutching the bag as you began to follow him to the exit.

Why did you end the date? Because you could feel him breaking your heart already. He was genuine. Too precious for you. He would promise you the world, and you would take it. But was that fair? No.

You realised, it was too soon. The cuts too deep to heal.

Some things in life are unfortunate, and they break people and leave them there to mend the pieces. You had let your insecurities win yet another mental battle in that moment. You didn’t deserve love. You couldn’t reciprocate it.

His figure cast a shadow on your fragile state as you left behind the possibility of starting over, leaving the warm bar behind and entering the dimly lit street. The cold breeze immediately attacked your skin, but the close proximity of Jungkook protected you from a full slaughter.

Jungkook stopped by the lamppost outside of the newly discovered hellhole, opting to light a cigarette to use the nicotine to ease his pain. A deep inhale allowed the mixture of chemicals to entire his system. He held for a few seconds, feeling the breath on his back copy his actions.

Exhaling, he turned to face you. “Where do you live?”

You blinked, completely forgetting that this man was practically a stranger. Comfort was found in his presence. “Yeah, sorry. Just follow me.”

And so he did. Step in step. He followed you along the quiet, darkened path.

As you began to walk under the rotten blossom trees, sudden ‘pitter patters’ reverberated off the dying leaves.

Just give me a break.

Removing the jacket from your body, you used it as a shield from the wet droplets. Jungkook did the same, using his leather jacket as an umbrella.

Once situated, you began to thread through the night. The path had brightened at the end of the blossom tunnel, and Jungkook’s eyes scanned your upper body. The small cropped jacket offered no protection. Your skin was littered with goosebumps due to the weather conditions.

Without thinking, Jungkook ran to your side, grazing you. He extended his arm, expanding the leather above your head. “Put your jacket back on, you’ll freeze.” He ordered.

Your cheeks dampened even though you were sheltered. Whispering gratitude, you tossed the jacket over your body, hugging yourself for comfort. Your head hung low, watching your feet drag against the floor.

“You don’t need to be kind to me. You shouldn’t.” You said whilst attempting to hide the cracks in your voice. But Jungkook’s eagle ears heard and that was the last straw.

Scanning the surroundings, he saw a porch sheltered by a cabana in the public playground. With a hand on the middle of your back, he guided you to it. You didn’t fight, just accepted it.

The downpour began to gain momentum as you picked up the pace. Once under the stable structure, you finally caved. Your tears flowed rapidly, matching the stream of rain. Cold and vulnerable.

The urge Jungkook felt to protect you, to engulf you, was animalistic. He couldn’t stop himself. He dropped his drenched jacket, wrapping his arms around you. And just like that, you were pulled into his chest, the warmth soothing some of the ache.

His posture softened to cradle you. Moulding himself to your delicate stature. It felt as though not a single inch of your skin was exposed.

He held you like that until your mind stopped racing and breathing slowed. With one last obnoxious sniffle, you unwillingly pried yourself from his body, pressing your hands against his forearms.

With the little courage you had, you looked up at him to offer yet another apology. But you were taken aback, thinking you’d meet the eyes of sympathetic man, yet all you saw was anger. Furrowed brows, a tight jaw with pursed lips.

“I am sorry—“

“Do not apologise. Are you okay? What happened?” Were the first words to leave his system.

Looking at the ground, you felt ashamed. You were supposed to have it all pieced together.

“Who did this to you?” He urged, pleading for you to open up.

“I did this to myself.” You snapped, not at him. At yourself. You pushed the wet strands of hair behind your ears, trying to make yourself a little more presentable.

In your peripheral, you saw a marble bench. Deciding your legs were too weak, exhausted from the exertion you just put your body through, you sat on the hard surface. Jungkook followed, squatting in front of you.

“If it’s any consolation, you look pretty, even when you cry”

“I don’t live far from here”

“Great, so we don’t have much further to walk in the rain” he whited.

Defeated and deflated, you sighed, looking at him with annoyance. He understood the suggestion behind your comment, however, he was not giving up on you just yet.

His knees were to his chest, arms folded neatly. The anger you once observed had dwindled into worry and sympathy. He knew that you were recently single, but didn’t know you were still recovering.

“Y/N” his voice softly echoed. “Talk to me, please. I know you don’t know me that well, but you should know I have cared about you for a while.”

He could immediately sense the change in your posture. “Not like that!” He rushed, not wanting you to feel threatened for a second in his presence. “Namjoon often talks about you. And he speaks so highly, admirably of you. Unfortunately, I can’t say he does the same about me.” He chuckles, in an attempt to ease the tension. Your features soften as you puff out a breath of air from your chest with a small smile.

“Anyways, I have been in awe of you. You sound like the purest person. The person that would be there through thick and thin. I don’t know why, but I gravitate towards you. I just want you all to myself. Tonight I wanted to prove to you that I am deserving of you. That’s why I asked Namjoon to set up this date. I wanted to prove to myself, that I deserve someone like you.” He sported a frown as he continued.

“But I have realised that I still have a lot of growing to do. That I am still immature. The way I acted on that date was stupid, and I am sorry. I was hoping the whole cold-hearted persona act would intrigue you. Foolish, but true.”

Perplexed, you just listened to him ramble. Trying to understand what was unfolding in front of you. He realised he was going off the beaten track, so he gathered himself by taking a slow breath.

“What I want to say, I do care. And I don’t want you in pain. I want you happy and healthy. Want to continue to blossom and bloom, even if I have to observe from afar. But, I- no sorry, you need to get over this obstacle to do so. And I am willing to help.”

Stunned. That is how you would describe yourself at this very moment. This not-so-stranger, had put the ball in your court. Gave you back the responsibility for your life. He didn’t take anything nor ask you for anything.

Although, minutes ago, you felt at your lowest, you were given the opportunity to overcome your hurt, your pain. And you were going to grasp it with two hands.

“Jungkook, I just feel so deflated. But you are right, this is my obstacle to climb. I have to stop feeling sorry for myself about the ‘what-ifs’. I can’t change the past, only heal and move on. And I am so sick of healing.’ You stated the facts. They were loud and clear. No more hiding. And you thought about your behaviour from the past twenty minutes and just laughed.

And you actually laughed. It was buried deep in you, but it lifted such a heavy weight off of you. If this man didn’t think you were crazy, he definitely did now.

To your surprise he joined in, crackling along with your insanity in that moment.

“A genuine laugh too? You are spoiling me now Y/N.”

You pushed his shoulder, rolling your eyes at his playfulness. You let the laughter die down before you decided to be bold. To finally choose you, not hide behind a world of pain any longer.

You placed a hand on top of his, engulfing it like he did with your body earlier. “I want your help.”

Jungkook froze for the umpteenth time that night. “Although I barely know you, I do know you’d be good for me. I just feel it and I can’t explain it. It might take me a while to accept it, but I deserve someone like you Jungkook.”

His mind must be deceiving him. He subtly pinched the skin on his arms, hoping you wouldn’t notice in case this was real. “And you deserve me and then some.”

Jungkook caved. His entire world collapsed around him. The evening took a one-eighty turn. He didn’t know how to respond, to hear the validation he craved. He was good enough.

Jungkook sprung to his feet, posture as straight as a pin as he ran his hand along his face, a smile erupting. Heavy breaths of air leaving his lungs as he processed your words. Mimicking his sudden movements, you rose to stand directly in front of him. Millimetres between your exhausted bodies.

Silence returned, but of a different kind. More like tension. Neither one of you knew what to do next. Both of you in shock from the unravelling that had just taken place in the children’s playground.

His eyes scanned your face, looking for something. A sign or signal. Something to help him determine his next move. Your eyes were like glass, their fragility reflecting in the moonlight. Cheeks wet, hair clumped and lip swollen. Although the scene was tragic, it was too much for the weakened man.

It was beautiful. You were beautiful.

Taking the initiative, he gently cupped your elbows causing your bodies to collide. A warmth engulfing the new couple.

Your forearms raised ninety degrees, hands finding comfort on his waist. Your fingers gripped the dampened material, gazing into his eyes. Pleading for something. Anything.

The world stopped, faith or gravity or Namjoon, whatever overseeing power was at play, had brought you together in this moment. It felt as if this was written in the stars, like this was supposed always to happen.

You and Jungkook.

Time was slow, everything in slow motion as Jungkook inched closer to your face. His neck concaving to allow his lips to hover over yours. His hot breath on your skin added to the warmth, sparking a fire in the middle of the abandoned park.

His eyelids became heavy, partially shielding his magnetic eyes. His pink tongue poked from his tight lips, swiping it across his dry lips. The small piece of metal embedded near the corner of his lips caught your attention as the coldness grazed you, as if testing the waters.

Seconds passed while Jungkook waited for any signs of hesitation or a change in body language. Giving you the opportunity to leave. But nothing.

Your eyes were wide open when your lips finally collided, crashing together to add more fuel to the burning flames. It was surreal, the way it was gentle but rough all at once. His lips rested against yours with force. Squished together, praying that this was real.

Your eyes collapsed, fingers tightening against his shirt, pulling his hips closer. He reciprocated your need, his hands trailing to the middle of your back, spread wide as they guided you towards him.

Both of your minds were turned to mush, completely enthralled in the moment. In the kiss. Every naturally born instinct had malfunctioned, both of you losing your breath.

Reluctantly, you pulled back, still retaining the strong grip on his clothing. You focused on your breath, allowing your heartbeat to return to a normal pace. Your eyes remained closed, knowing that if you even looked at Jungkook you would hyperventilate.

Jungkook was hyperaware. His senses turned up to the maximum as if he were Spider-Man in the middle of a war. He could feel your heartbeat through his hands, gradually slowing down. His ears honing in on your irregular breaths, drowning out the sound of the continuous droplets of rain against the roof. Eyes consuming you, all of you. His tongue licked his own skin as he did, tasting the strawberry lip balm you applied to his. But it was the smell of your perfume that was turning him into a madman. It was too real.

Once you felt stable, you opened your eyes staring at his black shirt which was stretched tightly across his torso due to your grip. Realising you were probably ruining the elasticity of it, you let go. Jungkook followed suit, releasing his hold on you, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of denim jeans. He shifted his centre of gravity onto the ball of his feet.

“Sorry” he mumbled, tongue playing with the warmed metal in his lip.

“Please don’t be” you weakly begged. You didn’t want him to regret that moment. “That was nice.”

His eyebrow piercing perked. “Only nice?”

Your lips curled, cheeks heated. “Maybe a bit more than that.” You giggled, like a five year old girl who was admitting her crush.

Jungkook dipped down stealing a single kiss. A simple peck. “Definitely more than that.”

Your eyes shot up, finding the courage to meet the man’s enchanting gaze. Bringing a hand to his sharp jaw, your thumb caressed his cheek. “Yeah maybe.”

The whole situation was so gentle. Sweet and innocent. As if it was written in a novel about young love. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Jungkook, with the biggest smile on his face, grabbed your hand pulling you towards the waterfall that was falling at the edge of the cabana. He swiftly bent, grabbing his jacket off the floor, swooping it over your head. “Better keep up.” He playfully smirked.

And then, he starts jogging. You gasped, laughing as you tried to catch up, trying to limit the exposure to the rain. Grabbing his shirt, you slowed him down, allowing you to wrap an arm around his back. He looked down, adjusting the makeshift cover to ensure you were sheltered.

You both continued to run through the rain, guiding him by pointing your finger. No words were shared, just laughter.

You made it to your house in no time thanks to all the adrenaline that ran through your veins. Grabbing your keys from your purse, which you somehow didn’t lose through the entire rollercoaster, you opened the door, crossing the threshold. You shook your body like a dog, removing extra water droplets that had built up on your frame.

Jungkook remained outside, still holding his jacket above his head. Admiring how cute you looked. “You can come in.” You insisted, shifting your body to the side, giving him room to enter.

His cheeks hollowed, jaw tightened and Adam’s apple bobbed. Nervous. Slowly, he brought one foot across the threshold. His boba eyes evident as he soaked in your home. Once again, his inner child appeared. Carefully, the other foot crossed over, his body awkwardly turning to keep the sodden jacket outside.

“It’s gonna make a mess” he concluded as his efforts to try and remove some of the wetness rendered useless.

Your eyebrows furrowed trying to find a solution to the problem. “One second.”

Kicking off your shoes, you ran into the living room, grabbing an unused clothes hanger. Carrying it towards the entrance where Jungkook stood. His posture hilariously reminded you of those standing still memes. Pursing your lips, you tried to hide the laugh from escaping.

You extended the legs of the hanger, placing it above the mat at the front door. “You can leave it on there. Maybe it will dry a bit.”

He nodded, tossing the jacket onto the hanger, cringing when he saw the water droplets soak the mat underneath. “You can take off your shoes”

Jungkook gulped, his throat restricting. “Yeah, I will, uh, call a taxi. Should be here soon.”

“You don’t have to go so soon.” You tested, leaning against the wall. “Our first date went, well, not-so-great. But I want to make amends.”

“So soon?” He choked as he wasn’t expecting an invitation.

“Don’t want the night to end I guess.”

You turned away, walking towards the kitchen. Praying that he would follow. But you wanted to give him the opportunity to make his choice and not pressure him with your looming presence.

Grabbing two wins glasses from your cabinet, you hoped when you faced back towards the kitchen island, a figure would greet you. And your wish was granted.

“I don’t have any whiskey. I hope wine is okay?” You asked, as you grabbed an unopened bottle from the countertop.

“Thank you. Wine is perfect.”

Placing the bottle down, you grabbed a corkscrew from the cutlery drawer. Jungkook walked to the corner of the island placing a hand on the bottle. His free palm was extended flat towards you. “Let me.”

Handing him the bottle opener, he got to work removing the cork from the bottle. The veins in his arms flared as he twisted the screw, bottom lip tucked into his teeth. So domestic. So hot.

Fumes oozed from the longneck bottle as it popped, dragging you out of your thoughts. Eyes snapped towards the glasses to avoid getting caught. He tipped the bottle, allowing the red fluid to pour into the empty glass, creating thick waves in the confined space.

“Thank you Jungkook.”

“No thank you Y/N. Spoiling me. This looks like good wine.” He commented, not because he was a wine connoisseur, but because the label looked fancy.

“I only use it on special occasions.” You admitted, bringing the filled glass up to your lips.

Jungkook did the same, soaking up the view in front of him. Your pupils were tucked seductively behind your lids as you made eye contact with him. He couldn’t tell if it was on purpose.

You looked so pretty, so raw. Lips were swollen, skin puffy, clothes wet, and hair rustled. Jungkook was in awe. His mind wandering.

“Special huh. What makes this so special?”

“It’s like a new chapter I suppose. Drinking to a new beginning.” You shrugged, taking another sip.

Jungkook liked the sound of that. “To a new chapter.” He toasted, tipping his glass towards you.

Catching onto the memo, you clinked glasses. “To a new chapter.” You confirmed before joining Jungkook with a celebratory sip.

Resting the drink on the countertop, you finally took in your appearance from the reflection that was in the glass. “I look like a wet dog.”

“I have a dog. Bam.” Jungkook announced. “Doesn’t look like you when he gets wet. Would be nice if he did.”

You chuckled at his weird attempt at a compliment. “Thanks I guess.”

“No- no. I uh- I wasn’t comparing you to my dog. Nothing like that. Just trying to say you don’t look like a wet dog. You are much more breathtaking.”

Fuck. Why him? He was too good to be true. Too sweet. Like sugar. He would probably end up poisoning you, but right now, was too addicting.

You couldn’t stop what your body did next. Leaning forward to kiss him. It was a peck. But it had Jungkook turning into putty. Before you could go too far, his lips chased yours, crashing into them again. Not letting you slip away.

His arms caged you against the countertop, hands gripping the edge. Your hands fled to find safety on his chest. His lips started to move against yours. Working to find a slow, steady rhythm.

He couldn’t stop, you were too delicious. Your hands travelled further north, resting around his neck, fingers threading through his wet locks. Pulling him impossibly close. Nose pumping as you moved frantically wanting to devour him.

One of his hands moved to your hips, pulling you towards his own. Your back was curved into a c-shape as you moulded to his body. Things were getting messy, hands and bodies continuously colliding. The hand on your hip, slid under your thigh, pulling you up to sit you on the counter.

As you slid on the flat surface, you bumped one of the glasses. You gasped, closing your eyes waiting for the clashing sound. However, it never came, Jungkook’s fast reflexes preventing the fall. “Whoa, easy there.” He teased, settling the glass.

The near accident had broken the momentum. “Sorry, was eager.”

Jungkook shamelessly scanned your body, taking note of every detail. “Yeah? What has you so eager pretty girl?”

The question had you wanting to shrink. Shrivel into nothing. His demeanour overpowering you. You tucked your head into his chest, saving yourself the embarrassment. He caressed your hair, kissing the top of your head. You noticed how wet his shirt was as you leaned against it.

“You are soaked.”

“That’s supposed to be my line baby.” Jungkook smirked as you slapped his shoulder, pushing yourself off his chest.

“Such a playboy.” You groaned hoping down off the countertop. “You will get a cold. I will get you a change of clothes. Come on.”

And there is that caring woman Namjoon has mentioned. Jungkook followed you, into what he believed to be your room. You bent down to grab some oversized sweats causing Jungkook’s eyes to bulge from their sockets. Fuck.

“Here.” You said, extending your arm backwards to hand him the clean clothes. You continued to grab a pair for yourself, before straightening your posture.

“I’ll get changed in the bathroom.” You announced. “Actually, do you want to take a quick shower? To warm up?”

His jaw dropped. Your cheeks heated when you realised the innuendo that left your lips.

“I, fuck, not-“ “Will I be alone?”

He took a step forward, eyes burrowing into you. “Because I would be willing to take a shower if it’s with you.” He admitted, loving the effect he had on you.

Your words were stuck in your throat. Yes, you wanted to shower with him. But fuck, shower sex wasn’t the way you wanted to get the first taste of him.

Sensing your hesitation, Jungkook lowered his head, his lips fanning your ear. “Or I can think of another way to warm up.”

The whisper caused you to shiver, arms reaching out to grab the hem of his shirt. “Please.”

The beg was instinctive. It ticked off his biology, his primal need. Like a scavenger, he was ready to attack. His hands cupped your face, forehead resting against yours. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you need me.”

Your eyes connected, radiating the need and want that resided within you. “All yours Jungkook. Please.”

You barely finished the sentence before his lips were on yours again. Lips dancing with one another, teeth clashing as he desperately tried to get closer. You were the first to slip in a tongue, wanting to taste the poisonous sugar. He groaned, hands slipping down to your hips.

Tongues battled as he began to walk backwards, pulling you along for the journey. His legs hit the bed, knees collapsing to sit him down on the mattress. Your body chased him, crawling onto his lap, lips never disconnecting. You cringed once you realised the wet clothes were ruining the sheets. Jungkook felt your nose crinkle against his. “What’s wrong. Tell me.”

“We are wet and my mattress.” You whimpered.

“Fuck you are so cute.” He pecked your lips. “We can solve that issue real fast baby.”

His fingertips grazed your calf, just below your dress. “Can I take this off?”

You shyly nodded, scooting closer to him, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. His fingers tucked under your dress, pulling it up over your knees. It snapped, jumping to your upper thigh. His lips connected with your clavicle, licking and sucking at the skin. The dress was pulled further north, his hands resting at your hips.

“I’m so lucky. Fuck. Baby, lift your arms for me.” He murmured against your skin.

Immediately you followed his order. In hindsight, it was a bit pathetic. You responded as if the words had come from a police officer. You could see an eyebrow quirk below you, his teeth grazing the abused skin before leaning back.

His hands pulled the bunched dress up your body, uttering praise as he did. “Such a good girl. A goddess. Look at how beautiful you are.”

You were left in your underwear, dress thrown onto the ground. He was still fully dressed making your stomach twist and turn. The power he had over you in that moment, you felt weak. Your fingers played with his wet shirt, avoiding eye contact once again.

“Why don’t you get me undressed baby. We don’t want the water to seep into the mattress.”

Letting your hands fall, you started with his belt. Letting the metal clank as you undid it. You bit your lip when you saw how his hardness was sitting straight and pretty against the wet denim. The tips of your skin grazed it. Shit.

He watched as your stomach tightened, hips jerked. “Got me so hard. You like it baby?” Eyes focusing on your covered centre. “Are your panties wet because of the rain?”

You whimpered causing his hips to thrust upwards. Fuck, you sounded so good. Too good. He couldn’t handle the strip tease any longer. He ripped the shirt from his body.

With his skin finally disclosed, his waist looked tiny compared to his shoulders. The temptation, the teasing, it was all too much. Jumping off his lap, you unbuttoned his jeans, frantically pulling them off his hips. He aided by lifting his hips.

Both of you stilled in your naked frames. Staring into each other’s eyes with hunger and greed. Jungkook scooted up the bed, moving away from the wet patch. His abs were contracted as he sat, pecks flexed as he patted his bare lap. “Come back to me baby. Let me take care of you. You deserve it.”

And you were not going to deny him. You crawled into the bed, as seductively as you could, and found your home on his lap. Lips tangling once again. His hands immediately gravitated to your hips, pulling them to his clothed cock.

The first touch had you both in a trance. You both let out moans of pleasure. It was so warm, so hard, so inviting. “You never answered my question. Are you panties wet because of the rain?” He repeated, guiding your hips against his.

“Yes.”

“Really? Are you lying to me pretty?”

“No.”

He smirked, moving one of his hands to your front. His fingers grazed your clit, a whine escaping your lips at the slight contact. A finger slipped the material to the side, dipping into the true source of the wetness. “Now why would you lie? That is not what a good girl would do.”

Your hips grind against the single finger, needing more friction. “Sorry. I was embarrassed. Please.”

“You promise you’ll be good. Good for me. Don’t I deserve that baby?”

“Only for you.” You stated.

Pleased with your answer, he flipped you onto your back. Lips exploring your neck as his hips continued to grind against you. Your knees were bent, toes curled. He hovered over you, one forearm rested against your head, a hand cupping your head. The other placed on your thigh, holding you close to him.

His lips travelled south, sucking and licking, his way down to his desired destination. Small purple marks littering your bare skin. He placed a delicate kiss on the top of your covered mound. Fingers curling around the band. He sat on his heels, lips swollen as he drowned in the picture below him.

“Look so beautiful.” He groaned, grabbing your left calf, lifting it up into the air to kiss the inner side. “No need to feel embarrassed around me, ever.” He placed your leg on his shoulder. “Fuck, you are so good to me. Got me so hard baby. So close to cumming, haven’t even gotten a taste.”

“Please Jungkook.”

“Yeah baby, I know.” He started to pull the material from your body. “Let me?”

You nodded, lifting your hips allowing him to remove them with ease. He admired the view, sitting patiently on his feet. Folds glistening and messy. He wanted to make them so much more messier. His thumb rubbed up and down the exposed heat, playing with his food. “I won’t be able to stop. Tell me what you like baby. Please.”

Your hips buckled against his skin. “Just want you. Want your tongue. Now, please.”

“So good. Keep using your words beautiful. Sound so perfect.”

Before you could respond, his head dipped between your legs. The hands on the underside of your knees kept you nice and wide for him. His tongue wasted no time, licking a wipe stripe along your slit before placing his lips on your aching clit.

He growled against it, vibrations sent through your body sending your hands flying to his hair. Gripping the curly locks as you prepared yourself. You could feel him smiling before his lips engulfed the bundle of nerves. A light suck had your back arching off the bed. His hands had to anchor you down by pushing on your hips.

You laid there, allowing Jungkook to devour you. Licking and sucking every inch of the silky folds. His tongue tested and tried every technique, flat, pointed, circling, flicking. Until he found the one that made you cry out. Using precise movements, he continued to eat. And he ate and ate until your body screamed out.

“Jungkook, I am going to cum. So close.”

Pausing for a moment, he propped himself higher on his elbows. “Tell me baby, what do you need. Want my fingers too?”

You couldn’t respond, just whimpered. Hips raising to get closer to him again. “Greedy.” He muttered.

His lips connected back to your cunt, continuing to cover his face with your juices. His fingers joined the party, prodding at your weeping entrance. Slipping one finger, he gauged your response. You were in pure bliss.

Using a single finger, he moved it slowly, exploring your walls. The warm tongue that played with your clit had you begging for more. All you wanted was him. To be full of him. Only him.

He obeyed your pleas, adding another finger. His precise movements picked up the pace. The ‘come here' gesture made you lose your mind as it grazed against a very sensitive spot. Your breath hitched, fingers tightened against his long locks.

Jungkook didn’t dare stop. Even when you tried to run from the slaughter, he kept you pinned. “Fuck, Jungkook. Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, the knot in your stomach snapping.

It exploded, the pleasure flooding your veins. Your head was light as you began to float. He continued, guiding you through your orgasm. He let you ride it out, slowing down when he felt your thighs twitch.

As you calmed, your eyes focused on the man you had to thank for the pleasure. And the view was sinister. His face was glistening with your wetness, covering his reddened plump lips, puffy cheeks, and chin. His eyes had darkened with lust. He kissed your inner thigh, slightly biting the skin.

He glanced back to where he removed himself minutes ago. “One last taste baby.”

His tongue ran from your clit to your hole, having one last lick. You whined at the overstimulation. “I know. But looked too good. Taste so much sweeter when you cum.”

“Fuck Jungkook, please. You talk so much. I can’t.” You huffed.

“Do you not like me talking to you? Don’t like hearing what I want to do to you? How I want to fold you in half and give you what want. Let my cock finally get a taste.”

You let out a pathetic cry. You wanted to hear it all. But you swear you could just cum from his voice if he continued. “Please. Want it. Want it right now.”

He climbed up the bed, straddling your thigh to allow his own thigh to press against your abused cunt. You could feel his hard member pressed against you, a wet patch present where his sensitive member sat. His upper body hovered above you, kissing the tops of your tits. “Did I neglect these gorgeous? M’sorry.” He slurred.

He pulled the flesh from the cups, kissing the newly exposed skin. The juices that remained on his skin smeared across your chest as his tongue swirled your nipple. You pushed down on his thigh, needing him. “Need your cock.”

“You are not too sensitive? We can kiss some more.”

“No.” You pleaded. “I love it. I want it.”

He moved to the other nipple. Circling and sucking on the darkened skin. “Fuck, tell me to stop if it’s too much. Condoms?”

He removed himself with a pop, following to where your fingers were pointing. He grabbed a condom from the top drawer of your nightstand. Quickly, he stripped the Calvin’s from his body, freeing his red, angry member.

You whimpered at the sight. Everything about him was too good. Too perfect. His large thighs, small waist, broad shoulders. His rustled hair, his tattoos. His structured facial features. And now, his curved, thick cock. Decorated with a large vein that protruded through the gentle skin from the base to the wet tip.

It throbbed as he ripped the condom open with his teeth. He pinched the top, rolling it down his length. It was all too attractive. You rose from the bed to where he kneeled. You grasped his shoulders, crashing your lips. His arms wrapped around your back, gelling your body together as you got lost in the kiss.

Using all your strength, you twisted his body, trying to lower him onto the bed back first. He complied, grunting as his body collapsed onto the firm mattress. You climbed onto his lap, hands on his chest.

His fingers dug into your hips, anticipating your next move. “Help me.” You pleaded raising your hips.

His hips thrusted upwards, missing the contact already. “Want you to put it in.” You begged.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, believing that was the hottest thing he ever heard. Although you were in total control in this position, you were giving him some power.

Spitting in his hand, he brought it down to his aching cock, spreading it along his length. He pressed the tip against your sodden folds, running it up and down. He rubbed it against your clit making you hiss. “Please, need it now. Been good.”

“So good for me. Just wanted to tease you baby. So cute.”

He moved his sensitive head back to your entrance, he could feel the vacuum, wanting to suck him in. You slowly sank down, inch by inch. Fingernails sank into his chest, leaving behind those beautiful crescents. He swore he would get them tattooed. Immortalise your touch.

It took everything for Jungkook to not pull you down and force you to take his full length. His tongue poked at his lip piercing, trying to focus on anything else. Your warmth consumed him entirely. He swore he could cum right there and then.

Meanwhile, you were shutting down. The stretch, the pleasure flooding your thoughts. The sensitivity of your cunt making you cry out as you continued to take length. Once you felt your thighs meet his torso, you let out a breath, giving you time to adjust. He sensed your struggle. He traced shapes along your side, cooing you. “Doing so good baby. Feel so tight. So wet.”

The praise that slipped from his lips, brought you back to reality. A sense of accomplishment pounding in your chest. You had this man below you mewling as you shuffled to find a comfortable position. “So big Kookie.”

“Fuck” he growled, thrusting upwards. “Yes baby, I am your Kookie.”

Unable to stay still any longer, you began to slowly lift your hips up, before slamming back down. Your hands on his chest acted as a stabiliser. Gave you the support you needed to find a steady, hard rhythm.

Your head was thrown back, feeling him filling you up repeatedly had you going cross-eyed. Moans and groans filled the room. Heavy pants as you continued to relish in the pleasure. The air thickened as a thin layer of precipitation glossed your skin.

Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off you. The way you looked so demanding and yet so elegant. Your lips parted with endless curses escaping, mixed with your cries. He watched as your cunt engulfed his cock, a white ring forming at the base. He loved you like this.

A certain stroke, had you collapsing. His tip digging somewhere deep within you, ecstasy shooting through your nervous system, paralysing you. His hands wrapped around your back, holding you close. “You okay? Too much?”

He was anxious, you had just suddenly stopped, screaming in pleasure, or so he hoped. “Your cock, too much.”

“Wanna stop? Take a break?”

“No, please. Kookie. Don’t stop.”

He kissed your temple, his torso rising off the bed. You were glued to him, not moving an inch. He folded his legs beneath you, with you sitting on top, legs hugging his waist. “This okay baby? This position?”

You bit your lip. “I don’t know if I have the energy.” You admitted, a bit embarrassed.

He kissed along your clavicle, his hands worked to unclasp your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders. He kissed each shoulder, before kissing you once again. Slow and steady. “Don’t worry baby, I got you.”

Grabbing your ass, he squeezed as he began grinding you against him, his cock nestled deep within your warm walls. He rocked you slowly, lips attacking every inch of his skin. This position was very intimate. It felt like you were under a spotlight, skin burning, goosebumps decorating your skin.

But it felt so good, your clit being stimulated by the collision when he pulled you forward. Your head was thrown back, embracing the feeling of his lips and his cock. Fingers digging into his scalp as he started to pick up the pace.

It was sloppy, like dry humping, both desperate to feel close. Jungkook was cracking, he knew he couldn’t hold on any longer. Your walls fluttered against him, contacting, tightening. “Y/N so close, shit.”

“Please cum.” You cried, beginning to rut against the man.

A primal grunt ripped through him. “You give me one more baby.”

Pulling his head away from your tits, you looked him in the eyes. Pupils dilated as if he had indulged on a class A drug. “Harder.” You begged.

Although this position was wonderful, and, oh, it was incredible, you knew it would take you a while to reach your high. Jungkook understood, immediately pushing you backwards. His cock slipped causing you to whimper at the loss.

He chuckled as he aligned himself before sinking back in, stilling once his pelvis touched yours. “So needy, so desperate. I was trying to be nice for you. But you just want it hard. You want me to be hard baby? Want me to take control?”

“Please fuck me.” You growled, so turned on.

“You ask for it, you get it baby.”

His hips snapped back before plummeting back in. So deep, so strong. Your body ricocheted, slightly moving up the bed. But he was caving you in, his elbows placed above your shoulders as he continued to pound into you. No where for you to run. Your fingernails carved into his back, trying to ground yourself.

“Kook” you panted, the knot immediately tightening in the pit of your stomach.

“Play with that pretty clit for me.”

Obeying the command, you swiftly move your hand to your swollen clit. The pleasure was intense, every inch catching flames. You couldn’t stop the sounds that fled. To muffle them, you attacked his neck and ear. Kissing and sucking the soft, dampened skin.

This action only encouraged him. He was panting, moaning in your ear as he continued the inhuman pace. It didn’t take long for him to feel your walls grip him, clamping him down. Making it nearly impossible to move. Your chest rose, tits pressing against him. The hand on his back, seeked refuge in his locks. Toes curled and legs shaking.

A wail erupted from you, as the knot finally snapped. You were overcome with the pleasure, black spots in your vision, ears ringing. You could barely hear Jungkook praising you through your high.

“Cum. Please.” You pleaded, voice horse and husky. Fuck everything about you was so hot.

Jungkook, who was solely focused on your pleasure, realised he compressed his own. Suddenly he felt his heavy balls, his stomach begging for release. He needed a bit more stimulation. But he didn’t want to risk hurting you. “Fuck feel so good, can I pull out. Wanna paint you baby.”

“Yes, please. Wanna see you cum.”

As he pulled out, the movement nearly made him blow. Raising up on his knees, he whimpered as he tore the condom from his body, admiring how it was covered in your essence. What a waste.

His hand gently swiped through your folds, gathering your juice to use as lube. Perking up on your forearms, you watched as he wrapped it around his cock. One pump, two pump, his thighs began to quake, stomach tightened, his abs carved along his abdomen. He was groaning and grunting, telling you how good you felt. His eyes closed as he focused on the pleasure. Sitting up, you reached forward, fingers grazing the vein that had caught your attention along his cock.

“Fuck. Shit.” His eyes snapped open at the new set of hands that joined his. He saw you lean forward, lips apart, tongue flat. As soon as your tongue met the precum that was pouring out of his tip, he lost it.

He moaned your name, a hand holding your hair as you took him into his mouth. Two bobs of your head and he was crying out. “Baby I am cumming. Wanna cum.”

You hummed around his tip. And the champagne popped. His cum flooded your tastebuds. The explicit sounds were pornographic. He couldn’t stop as his cum painted your mouth.

He kept pumping the length that wasn’t in your mouth causing him to whine as he purposely overstimulated himself. You pulled back, stunned as you saw how hard was. Although you couldn’t see, you knew you had swallowed a large amount.

“Sorry baby. It felt too good.” He whimpered. “Can’t stop.”

His cock was so pretty. So angry, so wet. His hand glided easily, pushing more precum from his little slit. Finally coming out of your orgasmic haze, you smirked. Pushing your tits together, you looked through your bashful eyelids. “You wanted to paint me Kookie. So paint me.”

His mouth was agape, no sound exiting as he just admired you sitting below him, looking so sexy and cute all at the same time. In the blink of an eye, a second orgasm crept up.

He watched as the spurts of white cum pumped out of his cock, landing on your beautifully marked skin. He sounded so submissive as his overstimulated and abused cock throbbed and twitched in his tight grip.

The pain suddenly overtook the pleasure, causing him to release his limp cock. He collapsed on top of you as you both settled on the bed, heavy breaths being shared. He tucked his head into the nook of your neck, leaving light wet kisses.

Realising that he was probably crushing you, he rolled over, pulling you with him. His hand rubbed your back, trying to calm you and your own aftershocks.

In your post-sex blissful state, you thought about the night's events. From the blind date, the playground, and then finally, to the bedroom. You just laughed. It was comical.

Jungkook didn’t know why you laughed, but it was contagious, and so he joined in. Chuckling along with you. He was honestly just happy to be there. To be with you in that moment.

Gathering composure, you rested your chin on his chest. “I mean this date was something else.” You joked, poking at his cheek. “You have a different kind of charm Jeon Jungkook.”

“Hopefully that charm worked on you.” He quirked, pushing away the fallen locks from your face.

“Seeing as we are just laying here in your cum, I think it worked.”

Jungkook scrunched his nose at the reminder. The sticky sensation between your bodies became evident. “Yeah sorry about that. I, um, don’t know why, I just wanted to feel your skin. But come on.” He tapped your ass making you giggle. “Let’s get us cleaned up.”

You hummed in agreement, getting off of him, scooting to the side of the bed, letting your legs touch the ground. The stiffness in your legs was obvious as you tried to rise. Jungkook had no issues, doing some kind of parkour to get off the bed.

He walked over to you offering a hand, to which you gladly accepted. He smiled watching you struggle, pride erupting through his chest. Yeah, I did that.

You wrapped a hand around his waist, like you did when you ran home in the rain. He guided you to the en-suite bathroom. “Shower?” He asked, kissing your temple.

“Please. But no funny business.” You warned, pointing at his dick.

He chuckled, raising his hands as you walked towards the open shower, twisting the handles to allow the hot water to run. You stood underneath the stream, loving the warmth. Jungkook admired the way the relaxation overcame your body. Your shoulders shrunk, eyes closed.

Jungkook almost felt guilty joining you in your little paradise. He tip-toed in, not wanting to disturb. Your eyes pried open as you heard the squeak of the porcelain floor. He looked so small, so hesitant. “Come here, the water is so nice.” You insisted, grabbing his wrist to guide him closer.

He stood there, a frown on his face as he watched the water trickle down your body. “I will have to paint you again soon. I miss the picture already.”

“Mister, no funny business.”

Jungkook chuckled at your stern voice. Once again, his hands were raised in defence. “Let me clean you.” He said grabbing your loofa, pouring body wash onto it. “No funny business.” He clarified.

It was your turn to laugh, letting him wash your body. His hands caressed every crevice, paid attention to every inch. His lips kissed the newly made marks, ensuring they got the extra attention they deserved.

Returning the favour, you cleaned his body, giving extra care to the marks and scrapes. The shower was like a second round, so intimate, but without any sexual intention. It was weird, but so nice.

“Sorry about the scrapes.” You apologised as you dried your bodies, seeing the marks through the mirror. They looked raw. Sore.

He furrowed his brows, looking over his shoulder. The deep marks visible. “Might not wear a shirt for a while. Need an ego boost.”

You squinted your eyes, scolding him as you playfully pushed his shoulder. “Don’t be sorry. I like them. Nearly as much as the person that made them.” He kissed your cheek. “Let me grab some clothes.”

And with that, he exited the bathroom leaving you with your thoughts. Was this moving to fast? He is a stranger, right? You can’t be doing this, you’ll just end up getting hurt. He doesn’t know you. Doesn’t know all your quirks and habits, your pet peeves. Why would he be so invested all ready. Throwing around confessions like that. Is there something I am missing?

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, placing the clean clothing on the sink. He could see you were consumed with thoughts, standing still in the middle of the bathroom.

“Jungkook, I just don’t understand you. We barely know one another but you seem so certain that this will work.” You wrapped your body in a towel, opting to not be in your most vulnerable state for this conversation.

Jungkook had his boxers on already. His cheeks hollowed, biting his cheek. “Y/N, I don’t know how to answer that without sounding insane.”

“The truth.” You simply stated.

He ran a hand through his wet locks, gripping the roots. “I just- fuck. I have been admiring you for a while. Namjoon mentions you a lot, and the person he talks about, that is the person I want. Look I can’t say this will work, but I want to give us a try. And I have always had a habit of jumping in head first. I am sure Namjoon has mentioned my lack of patience.”

You pursed your lips, hiding the small smile. Yeah, Namjoon has mentioned it a few times.

“But one thing I can promise, I will give you everything. All of me. I don’t expect you to accept it all now, I know you are still recovering. But I just want you to know I am willing and ready to be by your side as you pick up those pieces.”

Maybe this was too good to be true. But what if it was true? You have always been so calculated, but tonight had been the first time in a long time you just did, not think. And it had been amazing. Not a single regret. So maybe you should be crazy for once.

You stepped towards him, wrapping your arms around him. Hugging him. He immediately reciprocated the action. Holding you tight.

“I like you too.”