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Reading this filthy piece fist thing in the morning. Well yeah definitely horny now. I will daydream about fwb Namjoon now. Thanks! 🙏🏻🫠

fwb with bts ♡ namjoon

♡ how namjoon becomes your friend with benefits

⤑ word count: 1k ⤑ pairing: namjoon x fem!reader ⤑ genre: non-idol!au, friends to lovers, smut ⤑ warnings: smut (fingering, unprotected sex, creampie); use protection! ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ masterlist ‖ series masterlist ‖ updates ‖ read on AO3

you can find the masterlist here and share your feedback with me here, if you want to. if you enjoy reading my stories, please consider supporting me using buymeacoffee. thank you! :)

How does it all start? Namjoon’s not sure exactly. Who can say when friendship turns into something more, who can notice it instantly?

What he does know is that you’re definitely no longer a friend in his eyes. Somehow, your long walks by the river, late-night runs to the store together, stargazing and hiding from other people turned into something that left him wanting more.

At first, all of these were just friendly activities. You always tried to get Namjoon out of his place and away from work, which he often took home. Namjoon always had excuses—what if he ran into people he knew, what if he ran into people who knew him? He was a homebody on most days, but you always managed to get him out, sacrificing your Saturday mornings to go watch cherry blossoms with him, ride your bikes around the river and stop for coffee on your way back, or go on a day trip somewhere where no one cared about who he was.

Namjoon appreciated it a lot more than you knew, in a friendly way. It was nice to have someone who always had his back.

So what was the tipping point? 

It might have been the time when you got lost wandering around a desolated part of the city you were visiting, getting on a cramped bus to nowhere, bodies pressed together because the bus was full. Thanks to this, Namjoon’s crotch was pressed right into your ass.

Even though he did his best not to think about the soft swell of your ass touching his cock, it reacted to your proximity. It was just a boner, a completely normal thing, but Namjoon kept thinking about getting to stick it in you throughout the whole slow ride, like a bad, bad friend. Every little bump in the road caused friction between your body and his sensitive cockhead, and he prayed the bus would never stop, even though it was wrong.

Or was it that time you two got drunk and kissed? You came over to his place, feeling sad, in need of company. If there was a thing Namjoon was good at, it was making a fool out of himself to put a smile on your face. When he finally managed to get you to chuckle, even though your eyes were still watery and cheeks puffy, Namjoon cupped your face. “I want you to be happy all the time. You look so pretty when you laugh like that.”

You were touched by the compliment, enough to lean in and kiss him, enough to let his tongue inside your mouth, to let Namjoon practically lay on top of you on his plush carpet, chest pressed against yours. He never wanted to get up because he knew the moment would have to end.

Were those two times the times that did him in, or was it last week and the thing that happened between you two? After spending the entire day together, Namjoon bought you dinner and walked you home, letting you link arms with him, listening to you talk about your day. He’d just told you he was going away for work. A month or two, he said, but even that sounded too long for people used to seeing each other as often as you two did.

So, when you two said good night, Namjoon wasn’t surprised to find you both lingering, neither one of you wanting to be the first to walk away. “I’ll miss you,” he told you first, moving in to caress your face softly, taking it all in. You two were no strangers to such touches, so it wasn’t unusual.

“I’ll miss you a lot,” you confessed so sheepishly he almost melted. “I always have the best time when I'm with you.”

And then, your eyes met, both of you filled with longing, with anxiety about being separated, the friendly feelings you had for each other—and something snapped. He leaned in quickly, and you kissed him first.

Before Namjoon knew it, he had you in his arms, mouth connected as you stumbled inside of your apartment, fumbling with the keys. As soon as you stepped inside the place, he pinned you between himself and the door, keeping your leg up in the air while he got his cock out of his pants and pulled your underwear to the side.

It all happened so fast, but you both seemed to want it badly. Years of pent-up frustration and desire really did something to you two and made you act reckless, to say the least.

“Can I touch you?” he mumbled into the kiss, waiting for you to nod before sinking a finger into your heat, hissing at the contact with your warmth. “Perfect.”

“More,” you pleaded not even ten seconds in, so he started using two fingers to stretch you for his cock, thumb grazing over your clit, which got you to kick your head back against the door, exposing your neck to him. Naturally, his lips latched onto it, kissing and sucking, teeth grazing your skin. Then, you moaned his name, a sound he wanted to listen to repeatedly. “Please.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Namjoon promised, pulling the fingers out of you just to wrap them around his cock, spreading your juices over its head.

When he was done, Namjoon gently pushed himself into you all the way, hands moving to your ass to keep your leg up in the air as you both grunted and just stared at one another. So that’s how you felt—wet and warm and perfect for him. “Good?”

You hummed, pulling him in closer with your limbs, biting down on his lower lip. “Fuck me. Give me something else I can miss.”

After hearing that, Namjoon went wild with desire—unable to stop pumping himself into you, hard and fast. He was so horny and concentrated on fucking you that he couldn't even kiss you properly, but you seemed too busy kissing and sucking on his neck to care.

You used his neck to muffle the sounds of pleasure, so he tsked at you. “No, let me hear you. You give me something else to think about when you're not with me.”

You were telling each other things you weren’t meant to say, things you were supposed to keep hidden, safe inside your minds so they can’t ruin your friendship. But, if his cock in you didn’t ruin that, what would?

you can find the masterlist here and share your feedback with me here, if you want to. if you enjoy reading my stories, please consider supporting me using buymeacoffee. thank you! :)

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Theme: strangers to lovers, angsty shit

Warnings: smut, hookup, fwb, maybe slow updates👀

Word count: 1k+

Songs: Meddle about-Chase Atlantic

Heartbeat-Childish Gambino

teaser

She hypnotized me the moment I saw her. Her hips swung left and right, a rhythm too perfect to ignore, while her hair clung to her face, damp with sweat. The lights in the bar were low, casting shadows over everything, but she glowed. Her silhouette moved like it was pulled by invisible strings, a magnetism that made everyone else in the room blur into the background. I took another sip of my whiskey, feeling the warm burn slide down my throat, giving me that liquid courage.

My head buzzed, already thick with the alcohol l'd been nursing for hours. But this wasn't just the whiskey talking. It couldn't be. There was something about her, something electric. She wasn't the prettiest woman in the bar, but God, she had that thing. The kind of thing that made the air crackle, made your skin prickle. Every time her hips swayed, I felt it in my chest.

She was wearing a dress that hugged her in all the right places, red fabric catching the light, shimmering with every movement. Her bare shoulders gleamed, and I could see the faint sheen of sweat catching the light as she moved through the crowd. She was close enough for me to smell the faint scent of something floral jasmine or maybe rose and it hooked into my brain. I couldn't look away. I swallowed hard, the heat rising to my face, and I downed the rest of my drink.

The room shifted, became a blur, except for her. She was crystal clear. I pushed off the barstool, my legs a little unsteady, and made my way through the sea of people. She was standing with her back to me now, leaning against the bar, laughing at something the bartender had said. I didn't care about his joke. I didn't care about anything except closing the distance between us. The pounding bass from the speakers was in sync with my heartbeat. It felt like everything in that moment was aligned, leading me to her.

When I reached her, I hesitated, a rare flicker of doubt creeping in my mind. What if she brushed me off, laughed in my face? But then she turned around, and her eyes met mine-dark, unreadable. A slow smile spread across her lips, and it was like she had known I was coming.

"Hey," I muttered, suddenly unsure of what to say. Words felt heavy on my tongue.

"Hey yourself," she said, her voice low, smoky. Her eyes held mine, and in that instant, something passed between us.

She knew exactly why I was there, and it didn't seem to bother her one bit. I moved closer, the warmth of her body radiating toward me. "Can I buy you a drink?" My voice sounded far away, like it belonged to someone else. She didn't answer, just tilted her head slightly and looked me up and down. Her gaze was appraising, lingering on my face, my chest. Finally, she nodded, the smile still playing at her lips.

"Whiskey," she said, her eyes never leaving mine.

l ordered two more whiskeys, and as the bartender slid the glasses toward us, she picked hers up and clinked it against mine.

"Cheers," she said, and the way she said it made the word feel like a dare. We drank, standing close, the noise of the bar fading into a dull hum around us. I don't even remember what we talked about, if we talked at all. Every time she spoke, her lips barely moved, just enough for the words to escape, and all I could think about was how close I was standing to her, how badly I wanted to touch her.

She put her empty glass down on the bar and then leaned in, close enough that I could feel her breath against my neck. "Do you want to get out of here?" she whispered, and I almost choked on the last sip of whiskey I was trying to swallow. It wasn't even a question. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and she smiled again, that slow, knowing smile, before grabbing my hand and leading me toward the door.

We stumbled out into the night, the cool air hitting me like a slap to the face. It sobered me just enough to realize what was happening, but not enough to stop it. I didn't want to stop it. Her hand was still in mine, fingers cool and firm, and the way she tugged me toward a waiting cab made it clear she was in control. We climbed into the backseat, and as soon as the door shut, she was on me.

Her mouth found mine, hot and insistent, and I responded without thinking, kissing her back with a desperation I didn't even know I had. I could taste the whiskey on her lips, feel the heat of her skin beneath my hands as I pulled her closer. The cab ride was a blur. I barely registered the city passing by, the glow of streetlights flashing in and out of view. All I could focus on was her, her mouth, her hands, the way she felt pressed against me. Time didn't exist. It was just us, locked in this breathless, fevered moment.

Before I knew it, we were at my place. An apartment building in the middle of Seoul. I led her inside, her fingers still entwined with mine, and we stumbled through the door, kicking off shoes, shedding clothes like they were in the way of something inevitable. My bedroom was dark, lit only by the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the blinds. She pushed me onto the bed, and I fell back, watching as she stood over me for a moment, her silhouette framed against the light.

Her dress slipped off her shoulders, pooling at her feet, and I could barely breathe. She crawled onto the bed, her hands sliding over my chest, down my stomach, until she was on top of me, her body hot and smooth against mine. I closed my eyes, giving in to the sensation, the whiskey and her touch blending together until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

The night passed in a blur of heat and skin and breathless gasps. She moved like she had done this a thousand times before, every touch deliberate, every kiss leaving me wanting more. I was lost, completely consumed by her, by the moment, by the way she made everything else fade away. When it was over, we lay there, tangled in the sheets, my head spinning, my body still buzzing with the remnants of the alcohol and the afterglow.

I tried to catch my breath, but it felt like the room was still spinning, like I was still under her spell. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. She just rolled over, pulling the blankets up over her body, and within minutes, she was asleep. I stared up at the ceiling, the realization slowly sinking in. I didn't even know her name.

Meddle About Chapter 1

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Theme: strangers to lovers, angsty shit

Warnings: smut, hookup, fwb, mdni, maybe slow updates

Word count: 2,5k+

Songs: Meddle about-Chase Atlantic

Heartbeat-Childish Gambino

A/N: read the teaser first for some context

I'm not a big fan of one-night stands, but it happens when it happens. That's why I love waking up before the other person. I can snuck out without them noticing and I succeed this time too. The man, I don't even know the name of, was sleeping like a baby when I left his apartment. He was cute and the sex was better than I had expected from a one-night stand but that's it. When I got home, I first got under the shower. The memories of last night were blurry and I couldn't even make out what we talked about.

When I looked down my body I noticed the marks he had left on me. Purple tiny spots covered my breasts and stomach, and probably my neck too but I didn't even dare to look into the mirror because, from the start of the day, I knew that I looked as horrible as I felt.

My day wasn't fascinating.  The only thing I did was study for my upcoming exam and have mental breakdowns because I didn't understand shit. That's why I impatiently said yes when Carla asked me to go out with her and some university friends. She sent me the location of the restaurant they were meeting up and it was only 15 minutes from my apartment. I didn't put on anything too fancy. A pair of jeans combined with a strapless top. After getting my purse and jacket I made my way to the restaurant, hoping to loosen up a bit and stop thinking about my studies.

It's 9 pm when I reach the restaurant. For something in Gangnam, it looks a bit cheap but I don't mind it. As soon as I enter the building a familiar voice calls me. "y/n!" Carla's voice echoes through the whole restaurant while she waves at me. My feet start making their way to the huge table where a lot of people are sitting. Probably 16 I would say. Some faces are familiar and some are not but my mouth falls almost open when I see a particular face. It's him. The guy I spent the night with. Our gazes meet and he looks as confused as I do. I didn't know he goes to the same university as we do.

"omg, I'm so glad you made it. Hey guys" Carla shouts into the round "This is my friend Y/n" I cringe at the feeling of everyone staring at me even though I love to be the center of attention, but something makes it different this time. I mean who wouldn't be embarrassed when the guy you slept with and sneaked out of his house was staring? He was pissed. I could see it in his eyes, Who would have thought an action like this would hurt his ego? Okay, I get it, it was a bitchy move from me just to leave but isn't that what everyone does? Who the fuck wants to talk to their one-night stand on the next day after sobering up? Not me.

"you can sit here" Sungwoo and his little friend group interrupt my thoughts. I mentally roll my eyes but make my way to them because the other option doesn't sound so great either. Sitting beside the bunny guy isn't something I want to do. I don't have problems with meeting people I had sex with but this is too fresh. Literally. 24 hours ago I didn't even know about his existence and now I'm seeing him again after thinking that I won't ever see him again. Fuck my life, why does this always happen to me? I feel his eyes on my back as I walk to the guys.

"wow you look so different today, did you do something to your skin or get a new haircut?"

"Sungwoo I don't wanna fuck you so please shut your mouth if you want to continue talking shit," I say annoyed without even looking at him. Maybe Bunny Guy would have been a better option. Sungwoo didn't say a thing when his friends started to laugh about my comment. Idiots. I didn't pay attention to them. My eyes were fixed on him. He was talking to Namjoon, the son of my father's business partner. Why the fuck did everyone know him except me? Was I so focused on me and myself that I didn't notice someone like him?

"Hey, do you know that guy?" my words come almost out like a whisper. Cole looks at me confused "him?". He points at the Bunny Guy. "Yeah"

"Oh that's Jungkook"

"Jungkook?"

"Eh yes"

"Who is he?"

"He is the photography major guy" I look at him confused. "He takes photos?" Cole explains as if I was a bigger idiot than Sungwoo. "I know what photography is. But how does everybody know him except me?"

"I don't know"

"Wow you are a big help" I roll my eyes and continue staring at him. "Don't stare too much. He has a girlfriend" When Cole's voice reaches me my eyes widen and I turn to face him with a loud "What?". Maybe too loud, because some of the people turn their heads in our direction. I give myself an mental punch in the face because holy shit this is embarrassing.

I turn back toward Jungkook, now feeling a strange mix of irritation and confusion. A girlfriend? If he has a girlfriend, what the hell was he doing with me last night? I could feel my heart racing, anger bubbling up inside. For a moment, I debated storming over and confronting him right there in front of everyone. But then I remembered the last thing I wanted was more drama, especially in public. Instead, I forced myself to take a deep breath and let it go. Or at least, pretend to. I plaster a fake smile on my face, trying to shake off the weirdness of the situation.

Everyone, oblivious to the tension, were still talking to each other about something I couldn't care less about. I knew I wasn't going to enjoy this night. Not with Jungkook sitting there, looking like the world's biggest hypocrite. And yet, I couldn't help but glance at him every few minutes. His eyes met mine a few times, and I could see a mixture of emotions on his face anger, sadness, maybe even a little regret.

My mind kept racing. Maybe Cole was wrong. Maybe Jungkook didn't have a girlfriend. Or maybe they had broken up, and it wasn't as big of a deal as I was making it out to be. But I knew better than to get my hopes up. Guys like Jungkook good-looking, and confident usually had a line of girls waiting for their attention.

As I sipped my drink, trying to calm my nerves, Carla leaned over and whispered, "You okay? You seem a bit off." I forced another smile. "Yeah, just tired. Been studying all day." She nods, buying my excuse, and goes back to chatting with her friends. I tried to focus on the conversation at the table, but it was pointless. My mind keeps drifting back to last night, trying to piece together the blurry memories. The way he looked at me, the way he touched me, it didn't seem like something a guy with a girlfriend would do.

But who was I kidding? I wasn't some innocent victim here. I was the one who chose to sneak out without a word, who didn't even care enough to remember his name until tonight. Maybe this was just karma catching up with me.

As the evening dragged on, I found myself slipping further into my thoughts, barely engaging with anyone around me. I just wanted to get out of there, to go home and forget this ever happened. But I knew I couldn't run away this time. Not with Jungkook sitting there, a constant reminder of the mess I had gotten myself into.

I needed to get out of here, away from him, away from the confusion swirling in my mind. I get up and walk to Carla. "Gonna catch some fresh air" I whisper to her. She shows me a thumbs-up and continues talking to the others. I make my way out of the restaurant and start walking in some direction I didn't know where it would lead me.

"Hey!" I hear a male voice calling after me. Fuck. It's him. I turn around and my guess is confirmed. Jungkook stands there a few meters away from me. I give him a confused look, asking what he wants. He starts walking towards me but stops when there is a good distance between us. "Sneaking out like today morning?" Asshole. "I'm not sneaking out, just trynna get some fresh air".

"Did that in the morning too?" I try to not roll my eyes at his comment "Look I'm sorry, I didn't know you would act so fucking sensitive about it." Jungkook's eyes narrow slightly like he's trying to figure out whether or not I'm sorry. Spoiler alert: I'm not. But I guess he's not buying it. He steps closer, and I can feel the tension building between us.

"Sensitive?" He scoffs, crossing his arms. "You think I'm being sensitive because you bailed without saying anything?"

"Look, it wasn't personal," I say, trying to keep my voice even. "It was just... I don't know, easier that way."

"Easier for you," he counters, his tone sharp. "You don't think I might've wanted to talk? Maybe actually know the person I slept with?"

His words hit me harder than I expected. Maybe because, deep down, I know he's right. But I'm not about to admit that to him, or myself. So I shrug, trying to play it cool. "Honestly? No. I didn't think about it. I didn't think about you."

He flinches, just slightly, but I catch it. And for some reason, it stings. I was hoping he'd be pissed, maybe throw some snarky remark my way, but this... this is worse. He looks genuinely hurt. And that's when I start to feel like the asshole I've been trying to pretend I'm not.

"I don't regret walking out this morning. If  I knew you had a girlfriend I would have never slept with you." The words slip out before I can stop them, and his eyes widen.

"What?" His voice is low, almost a whisper. He looks around like he's making sure no one's overhearing our conversation. "Who told you that?"

"Does it matter?" I shoot back, crossing my arms. "You're the one who hooked up with me last night even though you already have someone. I hope she finds a guy that won't bullshit her like that"

Jungkook's face hardens, and for a second, I think he's going to walk away. But then he shakes his head. "I don't have a girlfriend"

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You don't?"

"Yeah," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "I hook up with this one chick but that's it. She's not my girlfriend or friend"

Complicated. Of course, it is. Isn't it always? I want to ask more, to figure out what the hell is going on, but something stops me. Maybe it's the look in his eyes, a mix of confusion and frustration, or maybe it's just the realization that I'm not sure I want to know.

"Okay," I say finally, my voice softer. "I get it."

He looks at me, searching my face for something maybe understanding, maybe just a sign that I'm not a total jerk. I don't know if he finds it, but after a moment, he sighs.

"Why did you leave like that?" he asks, his voice quieter now. "Was it really that bad?"

I hesitate the truth on the tip of my tongue. But instead, I offer him a small, rueful smile. "No, it wasn't bad. I just... I don't do the morning-after thing, okay? It's easier for me to leave before it gets awkward."

"Yeah," he says, and there's that look again like he's not sure if he should be angry or just let it go. "Well, next time, maybe just say goodbye." His last words linger in the air like a challenge, and I can't help but feel the sting. "Next time, maybe just say goodbye." Next time? Did he really think there'd be a next time? Or was he just messing with me?

"Sure," I mumble, more to myself than to him. I'm already regretting stepping outside, already feeling the walls closing in. I wasn't built for these lingering, unspoken feelings. My MO has always been simple: in and out, no strings, no attachments. But now, standing here with Jungkook, it's like the rules I live by are starting to crack. Jungkook's still watching me, his eyes softening just a bit, like he's trying to see through the layers I've carefully built up. It's unnerving like he's trying to figure me out, and I hate that. I hate how vulnerable it makes me feel.

"So...we're good?" He asks carefully with a sight smile. "Yeah," I nod and return the smile. "How about we start all over again, without this...thing?" Jungkook suggests making me a bit skeptical. "Sure" I respond unsure and he notices that. "I'm Jungkook" he reaches out his hand while my arms are still crossed.

"Really?"

"Yeah"

"Ugh I can't believe I'm really doing this" I give him my hand for a shake and say with a fake smile "I'm y/n". "nice to meet you y/n" a laugh escapes my mouth and not much long after he starts laughing too. "Okay, I think that's enough," I say still laughing and Jungkook responds with a "Fine".

***

We walk in silence til Jungkook starts talking again. "So I suppose that we are at the same university". I nod awkwardly. "Ehm which major are you?" "Art" my response is short and quick, not wanting to expose too much about myself. Jungkook makes an "o" form with his mouth and continues with "So we are in the same building". I don't say anything. There is a long silence between us. An awkward one before, again, Jungkook starts talking.

"Can I have your number?"

"my number?"

"yes"

"Uhm-" my phone interrupts the moment with it's vibrating. Carla's name is on the display and after giving Jungkook an apologetic look I bring the phone to my ear. "Hey, where are you?" she says clearly a bit drunk. "I'm still taking some fresh air. You okay?" "It's been already half an hour and yes I'm okay. By the way, did you see the tattooed guy by chance? Jungkook?" Carla talks a bit faster than usual, making me start to worry because usually, that means she is already at the point where she won't stop drinking.

"Yeah, he is standing next to me. We will be back in a few minutes, and Carls? Please don't drink so much" When the phone call ends Jungkook and I make our way back to the restaurant where our friends are. It only takes about 10 minutes til we're sitting in there again, getting bored by the things the people around us are saying. I catch Jungkooks eyes lingering on me, making me give him a soft smile. If I only knew what a mess this man would make in my life.

Ho👏ly👏 mo👏ly👏lelele Whewwwwwwwwwwww I am STILL sweating from the past two chapters and then just wham punch KO with this one 🥵🥵🥵 one could say you’re writing is equaled if not better than JK’s sexual prowess oooomf

Shanna those sneaky little hints you lace in the chapters are always SO good (+ all the members cameos whoo). I can feel the other shoe coming, and I just can’t stop reading for the life of me 😩

FIRST OFF - this has been niggling at me - the killing thought:

“You’re not exactly well-liked in society circles, which makes you wonder why Jungkook’s aunt even set him up with you in the first place”

in combination with JK’s vaguities about his position in the company makes me wonder....what is up with him and his family? I’m sensing a deeper rooted mystery unfolding here and curse my two brain cells for not having a clue but I just want to applaud the set up of THIS thread *in tangent* with the unfolding of the ~feelings~ ??! Chefs kiss moi moi perfection

I’m such a sucker for the whole reputation and facade crumbling to soft softie progressions, and this has just nailed this on the head. The chemistry and characterization you have crafted between these two is UNdeniable and all the little intimacies - in the details, the Velcro, Ted Lassi - amount to a perfect falling 🥺 I’m smitten too

Thank you dear Shanna for another stroke of writing genius and art 💜 I haven’t felt a strong resonance with fics in a while and Love to Hate truly reignited that spark for me. You are the best 👏🤩

Love to Hate (Ch. 3)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ for this moodboard which inspired a certain outfit in this chapter 

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’ve done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: phone sex, period sex (ish, non-penetrative), very explicit dirty talk, mention of ass play, mention of spitting, mutual masturbation, seokjin has the ability to look at a person and instantly know their secrets 

Word Count: 13,916

Keep reading

Can u write a Smut Angel Dust x Reader Where the Reader Gets Caught Watching on Angel's dirty videos~ :3

I like the way you think anon!! this is my first time writing smut so hopefully its okay?

WARNINGS! [friends with benefits, praise,NSFW,cringe,short]

You've been staying at the hazbin hotel for a while now, but one of the residents that stuck out to you was Angel Dust, the famous pornstar. He would always flirt with you and you'd always just laugh it off, but you did really like him. Eventually curiosity got the best of you and late at night you fired up one of his “videos”

Angel Dust had passed by your room, he must've heard you moaning because he ever so quietly stepped into your room. “Well then, looks like I have a fan~” Angel chuckled. turning around, you stopped what you were doing, almost throwing the phone across the room. “Don't you know how to knock?” You snapped, quickly trying to cover yourself due to how flustered you were. Angel dust walks over to you laughing. “ hah!- y'know hun, I could certainly uh..help with that~” He looked down at you with hungry eyes.

You paused for a minute but thought hey, I mean, what's the worst that could happen? sex with pornstar let alone angel dust is bound to be fun you sigh before throwing the blanket you used to cover yourself on the ground. “This is a one time thing, okay” Angel smirked and grabbed your waist,grabbing your face and hungrily kissing you, his tongue exploring your mouth. kissing passionately while both of your youngest intertwined, moaning into each other's mouths. He slid his hands down your body, rubbing your thigh he slid his finger into your pretty wet cunt. pumping his fingers inside you, hitting all your sensitive spots, he moved his head and nestled it in between your neck, giving you hickeys on your shoulder. biting, licking, and teasing your neck you could feel you were already getting close. “Ah~ mm.. 'm c-close angel..” you whispered into his ears. He quickly picked up the pace, curling and pumping his fingers inside you, rubbing your clit with his other arms. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me sugar?” he spoke with a seductive tone. You moaned his name as you quickly felt the knot inside your stomach snapping, cumming all over his hand.

Angel dust smiled and kissed you on the forehead, licking all of your cum off his fingers. “We should do this again sweetie~” He got up before making sure you were okay to clean up and go to his room. you needed this to happen again. you were already craving so much more of him. To no one's surprise,  you quickly became friends with benefits, exploring eachothers bodies by night and sharing a drink at the hotel by morning.

Sorry it's so short- I tried lmao-

I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless hun!! mwah <3

(word count 440)

-xoxo, Ari

hit;record (m) | myg/ksj

title: hit;record pairing: fratboy!yoongi x fuckgirl!reader(f) x jock!seokjin rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; fwb/f2l? , university au summary: you’ve been losing every single bet your friends have thrown at you. tired of striking the hell out, you’re determined to win the biggest one that everyone has a stake in. what you don’t quite expect, though, is that there’s more than one person willing to help you. warnings: cursing, alcohol, house party, recording, penetrati*n, cocky yoongi, cocky jin, spanking, head/hair pulling, oral(m/f rec), 3s*me, cowgirl, all chains stay on but are we rly shocked atp, jock jin<33, sp*troasting, c*m play, tears, sl*t/wh*re mentions, jealousy??, reader is a bad b*itch, unprotected sex (y’all omfg don’t do anything these mfs do pls), double penetrati*n, denied org*sm, creampie, breast play, pain, multiple org*sms, manhandling, choking, hitting it from the back (two different waays), yoongi is blond😀, jin has muscles😀😀, spitting, spanking, dirty talk, light face/c*nt slapping, finger*ng, the ending lmfaoo i think that’s it? oh, yes, there’s a tie. notes: i… just. i dunno what happened🥴 guess i just save my filthiest work for the yoonjin babes<33 have fun and don’t perceive me when you reach the other side. note 2: if you are involved in recording anything nsfw, please please be aware of how it can spread - purposefully or accidentally. everyone involved needs to consent 100% before anything ever gets recorded or photographed. that being said, all parties in this fic fully consent to recording and/or sharing of the videos. ok onwards! have fun :)))  release date: september 6th, 2022, 9:07pm est mood: playlist here word count: 13.1k 

Why the hell did you agree to this?

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bad for you || knj

Written for btsgoldnetwork’s Two Hearts, One Love Event.

↳  Combo #1 - Bad Boy AU + Popcorn + “Why are you looking at me like that?”

→ pairing: bad boy!namjoon x female reader → genre: smut, fluff → au/trope/rating: friends with benefits, best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, pwp, 18+ → summary: Namjoon’s got it bad for you. He just doesn’t know how to say it. → word count: 2.1k → warnings: mentions friends with benefits relationships, jealous namjoon, unprotected sex, oral sex(female receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, wrist pinning, soft sex, cursing, a little cockwarming, mentions a fight, mentions injuries, these two are idiots

→ a/n: this was written for the love of my life @yutasthetic​ . friend, I’m drunk in the club posting fics in the bathroom! yes, I love you that much and because it’s a flex for me😂. Anyway, I hope you like it!! This is so unedited, but written with love.

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Craving You | KTH

*Pairing: bad boy!Taehyung x f!Reader *Word Count: 2k *Genre: friends with benefits-ish? au, non-idol au, a bit of fluff at the end if you squint, SMUT *Warnings: NSFW SMUT, MINORS DNI. angry sex, bit of nipple play, implied unprotected sex (be smart, ya perverts!), dom/sub roles, face slapping, spanking, use of titles 'sir' and 'baby,' piv sex, Tae is mean to her but that's kinda the point, mentions of injuries/blood, implied bad decisions on Tae's part, bad boy Tae, uhhh i dunno what else but let me know if i should add anything else here! *Summary: Taehyung has a reputation. When his reputation leaves him bloodied and bruised, you only want to help. But the way he wants you to help takes you by surprise. *A/N: welp, here i am, once again inspired by some shit that bangtan pulled on the interwebs. thank you, SO MUCH, elle korea, for those fucking photos and for being the cause of this one. also, thank you so much to @thvhoe for this request; i hope you like it!

Prompt from this list!

Main Masterlist

Taehyung was in one of his moods again. You could tell from the minute he walked into your apartment, door slamming behind him as he stormed through your hallway to find you on the couch, staring at him amusedly. 

“Hey, cranky ass. Good day today?” you asked with a laugh. Taehyung could only stare at you angrily as he plopped down on the couch next to you. Your best friend was known to show up at your apartment unannounced pretty regularly, but he rarely showed his angry side around you. Only when things went really badly did he let it out in the open, so you naturally assumed today was one of those days. 

“Just.. shut up, for once. Okay?” he huffed at you, scowl spreading across his face. You never asked about his day or what he spent his time doing outside of work. You knew his reputation, you knew he was probably involved in some questionable stuff. But the bruises purpling the bridge of his nose and the corner of his bottom lip left you filled with worry. Worry about what he was doing, worry about if he’d get out of it alive. You silently got up from the couch, heading for your kitchen. Grabbing a cold cloth from your freezer (you kept a few in there for times like these), you padded your way back to the living room. Standing in front of him, you reached for him with the cloth, moving to press it against the side of his face gently, but you were surprised by Taehyung grabbing your wrist roughly, stopping you. You froze, not sure what to do next.

“Look, I’m just trying to help. No need to be an ass,” you scoffed.

“If you want to help, shut up and get on top of me,” he replied, staring right at you, eyes unwavering.

“Tae, you’re not as funny as you think you are,” you laughed out. Taehyung had said some wild shit in the few years you’d known him, but this time had to take the cake for his worst.

“I’m not trying to be funny. I’m serious. Get over here.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t move. It was like your mind and body were suspended in time, only thinking about the words that had just left his mouth. You couldn’t deny it, Taehyung was hot as fuck. Hot enough for you to go along with whatever wild plan he had in mind, no questions asked? You weren’t sure, but you didn’t have time to form a response, because suddenly your body was jerked forward as he pulled you by the arm. Your knees hit his, and you were lifted by the backs of your thighs until you were nose-to-nose with him, straddling him. Your breath hitched in your throat, but he left you no time to recover from that sudden action, as his next was right behind it.

Taehyung’s mouth engulfed yours, his lips feeling like fire on yours as he grasped the back of your neck tightly in one hand. A quiet whine left your lips, and he took the slight opening of your mouth as an opportunity to run his tongue along your bottom lip, pressing forward to gain entry to your mouth. His tongue overtook yours, and all you could do was give in and follow his lead. Maybe in any other circumstance this would have gone differently, but with the mood he’d come in with, you were almost afraid to question him. You were pliant in his hold, feeling all-consumed by him. His kisses were rough, desperate even. His hold on your neck didn’t let up as his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, and as you did that, you were suddenly lifted up as Taehyung stood. Holding tightly under your thighs, he walked in the direction of your bedroom, still kissing you hungrily.

Setting you gently down on your bed, he broke the kiss, his breathing heavy as he towered over you, holding your chin in his hand. The pissed off look on his face remained, but his tone was calm as he said, “You don’t have to do this.”

“No.. I, uh.. I want to,” you responded, not breaking eye contact, even though you so desperately wanted to. Taehyung was intimidating on a normal day, but today? He was lethal. He snickered, staring down at you still.

“Good girl. Now, take that dress off.”

You stuttered, not used to this demanding attitude. “Tae…” you squeaked out.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Moving slowly, you took the hem of your dress in your hands, pulling it up and off, setting it to the side. He swiped it off your bed, and all at once, he was climbing on top of you, one knee spreading your legs, pinning your hands above your head with one of his. 

“What’s your fucking safe word, hmm?” he growled in your ear, moving to lap at the column of your throat. 

“Uh..” you let out, not sure what to say. This was something you’d never participated in, so you’d never even thought about a word to use. He tsked, clearly unamused.

“Alright. Color system good with you? Green is good, yellow slow down, and red stop?” he asked, laughing a bit at your obvious lack of experience in this.

You nodded, wanting to do whatever you had to do to get him to continue. 

“Words, baby. I need you to speak.”

“Y-yes. Color system is fine,” you answered.

Chuckling once again, he nipped sharply at your neck. “Yes, what?”

Oh. You gulped, knowing what he wanted to hear but finding it hard to give it to him. You had never called someone that in bed, but there’s a first time for everything, and it looked like tonight would be that for you.

“Yes, sir,” you let out, turning your head to the side a bit to avert his gaze, trying hard not to laugh as the word came out. You immediately regretted that decision, as you felt a sting hit the side of your cheek as he slapped you, grabbing your chin in his hand. His thumb pressed lightly against your throat, making you look at him again.

“I’ll let that one slide, this time. Color?” he breathed out, anger showing on his face again.

“Green..” you answered hesitantly. With that, he pressed his knee harder into the space between your legs, kissing you once more. He let go of your hands, running his hands down your body to your breasts. Taking one nipple in between his fingers, he pinched, hard. You moaned into his mouth, letting yourself fall apart underneath him. Rolling the nipple between his fingers again to ease the pain, he traced his fingers farther down your body, stopping at the hem of your underwear. Using both hands, he pulled them off of you, leaving you naked under his fully clothed form. You felt vulnerable, but at the same time, strangely turned on by this newfound power imbalance. You reached for his shirt, tugging at it slightly, hoping he’d get the hint.

“Nuh uh. Use your words. What do you want, baby?” he snickered, watching you with fully blown pupils. 

“Get.. get undressed,” you let out, “I.. want you to fuck me. Sir.”

Watching as his eyes darkened, you knew you were in trouble. The good kind of trouble. His shirt came off first, and you couldn’t help staring at his toned body. Pants and boxer briefs came off next, leaving the two of you fully naked, finally. Your eyes widened as you noticed just how big he was. He reached down and slid his fingers down your slit, and a loud moan came out of your mouth. Chuckling, he began rubbing circles on your clit, sliding your slick around as he inserted two fingers, watching you react under his touch. It didn’t take long for you to be dripping, his fingers easily sliding in and out of your hole. 

“Breathe, baby,” he assured you as he slid the tip of his cock to your entrance. Immediately, you felt the burn of a stretch that, surprisingly, you welcomed. Breathing through your nose, you gripped his shoulders, allowing him to set the pace as he slowly pushed inch by inch into you. As he bottomed out inside of you, he kissed your lips gently, with a passion that wasn’t there before. It surprised you, but you allowed yourself to be devoured by him then. “Color?”

“Green,” you replied as you nodded under his lips, the feeling of his cock filling you overtaking you now. With that, he pushed himself up and gripped both of your hands in his, pinning them against the bed at the sides of your head as he pulled back and thrusted deep into you, hitting every spot you didn’t know you had. You let out a gasp as he continued powering into you, feeling his cockhead drag against your g-spot just right. Just then, he stopped, leaving you whining at the loss of his dick inside of you. 

“Flip over. Ass up, baby,” he let out, lightly tapping the side of your thigh. You lifted your waist and began to twist to flip onto your hands and knees, but suddenly you were grabbed by the waist as Taehyung flipped you himself, shoving your face into the pillow underneath you. He thrusted deep into you again, not wasting any time letting you adjust to him this time. At this angle, he was able to hit your g-spot even easier, and you immediately moaned out his name, feeling like you were already about to come.

“What’s that?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his deep voice.

“Tae.. Sir.. I’m gonna come!” you gasped out, barely able to form words. At this point, you weren’t sure if it was from how good he was making you feel, or from how your mouth was shoved down against your pillow, but either way, you weren’t lying. A few thrusts later, you were crying out his name again, shuddering as your orgasm washed over you. You shook, barely able to hold yourself up as Taehyung continued pushing into you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he got closer to his own orgasm. 

“You’re gonna regret that, baby. I didn’t hear you ask permission, did I?” he asked as his hand swung down onto your ass cheek, leaving a stinging handprint where he made contact. You yelped, gulping as he thrusted as deep as he could, leaving fingerprints in the dip of your hips. He stuttered, pulling out of you, and you felt hot spurts land on your ass as he finished.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he groaned, watching as he covered you in his release. You felt the mattress dip behind you as he stood and walked to your bathroom, coming back minutes later with a cloth. Cleaning you up quickly, he smacked your ass again, forcing a yelp from your exhausted body.

“Tae..” you started, turning over onto your back. Watching as he left your bedroom again, you pulled your comforter over yourself, feeling suddenly shy. You had just fucked your best friend, and who knew what would happen now. Before you could really think about it, he was back, and he seemed like his normal, goofy self again. Like the persona he’d just taken on in your bed had never existed.

“There’s a lot of things I’m having to let slide from tonight. But I wasn’t joking when I said you’d regret that. Next time, I won’t be so easy on you,” he said with a smirk, pushing you to the side to slide in bed next to you. 

“Next time?” you asked, incredulous. 

Taehyung chuckled, kissing your temple gently.

“Oh, baby. You thought I was done with you? No,” he laughed out in a mocking tone, “I’ve been craving you for years. Now that I’ve had a taste, I only want more.”

Your eyes widened as Taehyung kissed your temple once more, pulling you closer to him.

What in fresh hell had you gotten yourself into?

love formula | jjk sm au

banner by: @dee-ehn​

🖇 synopsis:

// ‘there is a chemical formula for love. dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin. it can be easily manufactured in a lab, but overdosing on any of them can cause schizophrenia, extreme paranoia, and insanity. let that sink in.’ ]]

— you’re barreling into his life when he least expects it, stealing all his attention until the nights spent studying are replaced with rolling around the sheets. he’s hopelessly romantic and you’re in it for the fun, but no one told you it would ruin your life.

pairing: shyboy!jungkook x fuckgirl!reader

fic type: social media au

side ships: vmin… sope(?)

genre: smut!! college au, friends with benefits, f2l. angst…

warnings: yn is very cynical when it comes to love and jungkook is the exact opposite… so be prepared for the hurt feelings…

status: complete!!

A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!

parts:

playlist

prologue: cinematic greatness

character profiles: jeongguk and his buds

character profiles: yn and her wh0res

part one: complete stranger

part two: claiming handys

part three: sexual innuendos

part four: debit or credit

part five: biggest crush

part six: exactly as planned

part seven: great boyfriend

bonus: mirror selfie

part eight: skipping out

part nine: rule book

part ten: comfort zone (mini timejump)

part eleven: hooking up

part twelve: couple thing

part thirteen: half-ass theory

part fourteen: having fun (pt.1)

part fifteen: having fun (pt. 2)

part sixteen: having fun (the final part)

Q&A

part seventeen: teen angst

part eighteen: been weird

part nineteen: pull back

part twenty: emotionally constipated

part twenty-one: less guarded

part twenty-two: kinda girlfriend

part twenty-three: unnecessary drama

part twenty-four: only girl

part twenty-five: starting last

part twenty-six: relationship expert

part twenty-seven: soul searching

part twenty-eight: making changes (time jump)

part twenty-nine: booty calls

part thirty: the luckiest

bonus: valentine’s day

epilogue: seven years

epilogue: my boyfriend

end

colour me in: translucent | jjk (m)

Summary: And whenever the world seems to fall apart and your thoughts cast a shadow over your heart, he rushes to lift you to your feet. Conjoining your hearts and souls, again and again and again.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some healthy angst, so much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: y’all. So. Much. Fluff, talk about stars, talk about his hometown, mention of a wedding 😁, 1 nara mention, a guest appearance!!, and another guest appearance…, daddy issues mention, oc has a tummy ache :(, banter, conversation with her mom, badass oc, their friends <3, moving and work stress, overworking, kook panics in this one, oc does too, tears and tears and tea–, abandonment issues, overthinking!!!, they communicate too late bc they’re scared, pregnancy scare, mention of throwing up, kissing and hand holding <3, petnames, insecurities/slight envy; explicit sexual content: diving right into the smut as the chapter starts 🤭, tie around oc’s neck ha ha, oral (f. receiving) (over panties and without 🥲), fingering, brief masturbation (m.), making out, jk takes the backseat and oc drives for a while <3, bit of choking, they’re half clothed for a bit, tiddie and butt love, tears, flirting, big dick jk, soft dom jk, emotions omg 😷, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he unloads in her mouth 😄, and yeah, maybe more but i forgot – lmk if you notice smth! also… THE 👏 EN 👏 DING 🚨🚨🚨 ➳ word count: 35.8k 💀  ➳ a/n: here it is… after a long ass fight with tumblr and my tears, it’s here! i don’t have much to say this time except that this chapter means the world to me. and i hope you love it just as much. shoutout to @missgeniality for betaing parts of this and helping me with difficult scenes, i truly struggled!! <3 if you guys enjoy this one, let me know and don’t be shy to reach out!! love you and let’s dive in 🥺 ➳ listen to: say you won't let go by james arthur | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER

The whispers cease the moment your door closes.

The whispers of the world, of all traffic, of all passersby, of all echoes. And those in your head, susurrating since you left the glass building and its conference hall.

They dim the moment you drop your palm off the door; your heart is still a nervous mess as you take your shoes off, watch him take his shoes off. He places them neatly in the shoe cabinet, jacket hung on one of the coat hooks.

Right here, you’re surrounded by a tranquil, quiet dome. Not as subdued as the emotions the outer world elicits; just an arena that feels perpetually warm, sepia and still.

And amidst that warmth, there’s yearning. You feel it in every nerve of your body, burning through your limbs. Stunning sentiments pull at your soul, making it heavy; and your heart floats, perpetually above the clouds.

As he rubs his cheek with a soft hand — you know, because you were holding it just two minutes ago, clutching it in the car for dear life —, you take a step forward, your mouth open, but not quite capable of saying all that’s weighing on your tongue.

They’re good things; amazing things. And he hasn’t yet gathered all his thoughts either to truly voice what he’s been hiding since you left the chaos. Only opting for the living room, painfully slowly, as if he’s waiting to face you again.

And maybe… maybe he really is. And maybe he doesn’t need to talk at all.

Because he stops the moment you speak, tenderly calling, “Jungkook.”

It’s all he needs. Combined with the lightest touch to his elbow, a hint of your voice is all he needs. He wants to keep hearing his name. Again and again and again. And today, announcing it to the world, you promised that you’ll be doing just that.

Shit. What have you done to his heart? He wants to ask questions that neither of you has an answer to; or, not one that can be verbalised. One that could explain this euphoria.

So he doesn’t say anything at all.

Instead, he stumbles as he turns back to you again, taking a deep breath before his head tilts. The unbounded amount of want is swimming in his tired eyes, and you barely manage a hushed, “Should we—” before his fingers flutter and he—

Dashes straight toward you. One large step, both hands jacking up to take your face captive. He raises your head, eyes closing, mouth parting an inch before it’s locked with yours.

If he hadn’t started, you would have.

The same thumb always caressing your skin pulls your lower lip down. An unfaltering habit, tender whenever he spirals. You trip backwards, with him in tow, immediately gripping his arms with a wild, accelerating heartbeat.

Your soul was already awake, lit up from today’s events; but he dunks it in a brighter shine — and now it flushes pink.

For a while, your kiss’ sounds are all that echo off the wall, mixing with your sighs. He starts gently, head angled, diving deeper.

Every now and then, he tugs at your lip ever-so-slightly, teeth and tongue dragging over it. The wet muscle is soft against yours, and you let your touch drop down to his waist to hold him closer.

But there’s not that much time to dissolve into him right here, against your entrance door, because Jungkook backs away before you can bid your sanity adieu. Maybe that’s for later.

Maybe you need to be okay with his breath grazing your skin for now, for the words he murmurs so close to your lips, “You’re crazy for this. Absolutely crazy.”

You are. Both okay with this, and incredibly crazy.

There’s never been more certainty in your actions or your intentions than whatever you do with him. For him — if that deems you crazy, then you absolutely are.

Heated from the kiss, Jungkook steps away, but not without entangling your fingers with his. On the way to the bedroom, you ignore everything that doesn’t entail him.

Like, the humming of the fridge. Or the sound of the traffic outside, audible through the tilted window. And the buzzing of your phone; it’s been doing that for a while now.

Of course it is.

But you don’t hesitate to deposit it on your bedside table mere seconds later; you barely manage to put it there, nearly watching it slide down as Jungkook pulls you back. You clash against his body, and the tongue once again mingling with yours only enhances your disorientation.

God, you’re a lost cause. Nothing else to expect with his palm holding your jaw, arm slung around you, kissing you senseless.

Time slows down; the sensation turns electric. His motions are rhythmic, fingers brushing your neck. And despite the bitterness he must have felt at the conference, he tastes so , so sweet.

Heady desire growing, you grip the back of his head, pushing it closer. You’re insatiable. Yearning for more of his damp, soft lips, hysterical when he lets out a craving, small moan.

“Do you have any idea,” he starts, giving your neck no more than a handful of teasing pecks, “what that did to me?”

He moves back until you plummet into the mattress; your eyes follow when he leans in and falls to his knees. Placing a hand at the nape of your neck, tenderly moving your face a bit closer to his.

“Without a warning, too,” he continues, “what, were you planning to drive me mad for so long?”

Not the angry kind of mad. His smile and the fondness in his eyes reveal that much. No — the mad that a lover is.

“Did it work?” you ask, and he flashes his teeth, beloved crinkles around his eyes.

“Did it? What do you think?” He kisses your nose; then, the apple of your cheek. “You didn’t notice any of it today? Or any other time before that?”

“I wanted to… I want everyone to know. I was going to tell you when you came home, but… I wanted to say it in front of everybody. That,” you touch the collar of his blazer, rubbing it between your fingertips, “I’m done with their games. I don’t care anymore, Jungkook.”

“I know… You don’t care.” His hand leaves the nape of your neck, caressing your face. “But you care about me, yes? You care so much.”

It’s not really a question. It’s a statement, a reassurance to himself. A mantra, as if he needs to repeat it and let it reverberate in his mind until he’s grasped its meaning.

“I do,” you whisper, peeling the blazer off his shoulder by only a few inches, “and I want to stay. Can I… just stay here?”

“You’re crazy,” he echoes once more, emphasising his words with a shake of his head, “to think I’ll let you go again. You’ll see.”

Although he still establishes a brief, temporary distance between the two of you right after; you’re reluctant to stop feeling his warmth when he stands. He towers over you, and you muster utmost courage to not faint.

Because the sight is one to behold.

How he removes the blazer in a swift movement, discarding it on top of the table at the wall. He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, but only one side, glancing at you throughout the ordeal.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask.

“Why is your mouth open like that?”

“Do this exactly in front of a mirror, and… and you’ll know why.”

He smirks. “Right. And stare at yourself in the mirror for longer than a second, and you’ll know why, too.”

God, this guy…

And he actually doesn’t stop.

His pupils keep wandering; to your eyes, to your lips, to your heaving chest. To how you close your legs when he loosens his tie with tattooed fingers, lettered knuckles on full display. He opens a single button of his dress shirt; enough to reveal a patch of golden skin.

The tie dangles off his neck, doing wonders to your mind, and you resist the urge to grab it and pull him down to you. But you don’t need to; you only get to cherish the sight for another second.

Because right after, he pulls it over his head, baring the highly kissable mole on his neck before—

“What are you doing?” you wonder, eyes wide, and probably filled with anticipation as he puts the tie around your neck. “I’m…”

“Looks a lot better on you.”

One more shake of his head. You subtly catch a jerk behind his pants, and your gaze drops instantly. Behind the dark slacks, he’s already waiting for you, and the thought leaves you frothing at the mouth.

“You’re not looking bad yourself…” you say, drifting off, barely looking into his face as your hand reaches out. “May I?”

“What, baby?”

“Just…” 

You move forward, a palm to his thigh, and close your eyes before placing a kiss to the growing bulge. It twitches under your lips, and you drag your mouth lightly over his dick’s outline.

“Should’ve known,” Jungkook breathes, affected straight away, “but somehow, this is worse than your hand.”

“Really?”

He clicks his tongue when you do it again, unfazed by the layer between you as you give his clothed cock an open-mouthed kiss. Two of his fingers settle underneath your chin, and he raises your head in order to meet your gaze.

Then, he pushes you back a little, within a second back to one knee; then the other. He cocks an eyebrow as if to reprimand you, but then gulps down a chuckle as he says, “Really. But wait a bit more.”

You need to wait, because he prioritises your pleasure. One demand you’re ready to give into.

So, so prepared, when he asks politely, “Open your slacks?” You do. The way he drags his hands over your thigh and up to your hips, starting to discard your pants, is arguably less polite. “Here we go. Raise your ass.”

You help him out as best as you can. But he attaches his lips to your naked thigh the moment it comes into view, scattering kisses over your hot skin as he casts it off of you entirely.

You raise your feet a bit above the ground, and he uses the moment to separate your legs. Doesn’t even bother taking off your panties first; casually making himself at home between your limbs.

Light-headed, you open your eyelids halfway to glance at the blurry ceiling light; you never noticed when you closed them. Maybe when the sweetness spread over your thighs’ skin.

Maybe he’s as dizzy as you — only, when your whirling stare descends to his face, he’s smirking. And for a second, you don’t understand why. Puzzled, you keep looking, observing the tempting lick over his lips; the deep exhale; the barely-there blinking.

And then he says, “Never thought about it. But you should wear light-coloured panties more often.”

“…Why?”

But you soon get why.

Because you feel the arousal behind the fabric. How it glues your pussy to it, the damp spot probably growing. It’s visible — that’s what he’s liking so much.

He can see all of the desire you harbour for him, showcased so blatantly. And despite the embarrassment, watching his face flush in that rosy dust boosts your ego, too.

Your face burns.

“You’ve been like that for…” he starts, shrugging his shoulders in curiosity, “how long now?”

“Long enough. And I dare you to do something about it.”

Because fuck, he talks too much. In hindsight, only really when you need him to shut up; deliberately.

“Oh god,” he exclaims, dramatic as ever; as he raises a hand, you nearly think he’ll place it on his chest for further effect, but he only touches your knee, “now if you’re daring me, I’ll have to.”

“Mhm. I’m sure you’re not a sore lo—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s a rude interruption, and the sudden push of his fingertip against your clit is ruder. It’s a momentary touch, fleeting, as opposed to the slow and calculated way that he buries his face in your panties. Eyes glued to yours for a moment.

And then…

Then, you relish the first taste of Heaven — as does he, you suppose.

Because the satisfied sigh is outrageous, hot against your covered folds. He licks over the damp stain, only the tip of his tongue; thoroughly salivated, because you feel the wetness seeping through the clothing.

There’s no moment between the start of his action and your immediate, ”Fuck.”

And to him, your reaction sets just the tone for a woozy night to come. He nods between your legs, gelled back strands tickling, hums so sweetly. You adjust on your seat, though the subtle change affects nothing; only drives you wilder as you shift deeper into his face.

His tongue is painting circles over your clit. Drawing out sensations, and you don’t understand how… there’s underwear between him and you. A barrier, aching to be removed, so how is he doing this, howishedoingit—

“No! Oh god—”

You can’t decipher why you voiced the rejection; you don’t want him to leave. Frustrated when he does, mouth open, waiting for you to speak up until you do, “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t fucking know…”

“Babe…” He shakes his head… He’s doing so much of this today. But one of the loose strands keeps moving so gorgeously over his forehead, so if it was up to you, he could keep doing it. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry…”

“Nah.” He says it when you press your lips together, hot and bothered as he licks another stripe along your cunt. “Didn’t mean it that way. Open that pretty mouth. Do scream, yeah?”

You could melt into the ground. Or into the sheets; he always knows what to say. No matter what the situation. A verbal monster once, a graceful poet another time.

They say, get you a man who can do both. But he can do all million things known to humankind and the book of romance.

His mouth works deeper into where you ache. Tongue action expanded, he returns to the panties, seeking one of your nether lips to tease it, pull at it. He’s ruining your garment, making it stick to your pussy.

Pries your legs open when he comes back to the clit, and then drops down to the overflowing sex again. The sensual gestures are toying with your nerves, and you still can’t figure out how. Leaves you waiting, yearning, craving the lack of a blockade in between.

And once the uncomfortable, wet cotton of your panties rubs against the inside of your folds, you finally speak up, “Why are you—”

“Sorry,” he interjects, aware of his bestiality. You see it in his stupid wicked smile. “I know. This is just…” Big eyes stare back down, albeit hazier than before; his finger touches the drenched patch for a second. “So good to look at.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Of course.”

Shit, he’s so cheeky. If you had the strength, you’d wipe that bubbly smile off his face; not good for your heart. Would smooch it away. But fret not — you’ll get your chance, too.

For now, you need to grant him this win. Not least of all, because it feels so good for you, too.

So you don’t defy him when he suddenly moves in more. Hooks a finger into your panties and slides them aside, letting them snap back against the juncture between your pussy and leg. And then, you guess the actual fun starts.

Because he throws one carnal look at you before his arms wander under your legs. You can barely gather your thoughts before he digs in again, properly this time. Lips directly attaching to your skin, he starts diligent work on soiling your body.

And god, does he do it well…

So experienced. Aware. Studied you and your body well enough — because the agonisingly slow tease isn’t random. He knows how much you hate it; knows how much you love it.

How it builds anticipation, and how it grows your desire.

He’s a little fuck, but maybe that’s why he never fails to break you this hard. You know he’s enjoying this — delighted when your eyebrows furrow, close to weeping as he breathes against your pussy.

Even though a man starved, he takes his time. For a second. Then another. And then parts your folds with his fingers, whispering, “Would you say that’s better?”

Like he’s at some meeting. Goddamn.

You blink, responding, “I don’t know. Better than the panties, worse than…” His finger slips in mid-speech, just halfway through when you manage a breathy, “this.”

“I… Shit, you’re… hot as fuck.”

Right.

Even you’re turned on by how your head tips back again, eyes rolling inward when he diminishes the distance and kisses your cunt. Nobody else is going to raise your confidence like he does.

“Mmmh,” he voices as the make out session intensifies, smacking noises sounding from below. He lifts his lips by a mere inch, only to mumble, “So hot. So fucking good.”

And that’s it — back to business.

“Nnnghkook…”

The arms he dropped under your legs sling around them, hooking in, and somehow, he’s able to reach to your back like that. Raises your legs in the process, pulling you in. Deeper in your heat, big button nose against your pelvis.

Your right hand attempts to grip his hair before you threaten to fall backwards, failing miserably. You immediately place both your palms back on the bed, because you doubt you can trust that damned left arm to hold you upright — quivering like this.

The tip of your tongue touches the arch of your upper lip, and then you tilt your head, warning him, “Fuck… if you don’t fuck my brains out today, Jungkook…”

Brains? Plural? Acting as though even one’s present in your head right now.

Jungkook chuckles, licking you dry; the little sound combined with the sinful ordeal is a delightful one. Contrary, but gifting the moment some reality. Some tenderness. You’re having fun.

He stops to throw the escaping strands back again — all in vain, of course — and brings his hand to your ass, moving you over the bed until you’re off the edge. You yelp, close to falling, but he holds you carefully.

Ass half dangling, he throws your legs over broad shoulders, kissing your thigh before he promises, “Don’t worry at all. Won’t leave a single thought in either of our heads.”

You wince when he bites the flesh of your leg, and then proceeds to advance his soft lips to the tender ache. He collects saliva on his tongue, probably ready to dive in again; moves in at least, tickling your pelvis with his breath.

His nose takes a deep breath, inhaling you, dizzy from your scent. And his thumb — it floats over your clit, preparing for more insanity. But when the position elicits some discomfort, you say, “Put me on the bed. Can I… bed properly.”

Fragments of sentences. They make him smile.

“Sure,” he says rather calmly; you’re anything but.

It’s not normal. Watching a guy like Jeon Jungkook push his hair back with his jaw on full display; tongue darting out.

He signals his approval once more as he pats your thigh, and you make quick work at weakly turning around and crawling onto the bed. You’re still trembling as you get on all fours, very conscious of what you’re doing.

Casually, you say, “I’ll get the lube, too.”

Of course you know what might follow. What will follow. He never stops raving, daydreaming, bragging about your ass — walking past you in the kitchen, just to grapple a handful and to innocently claim, “What? I love your butt.”

But before he strikes this time, you’re only barely able to grab the lube out of the drawer, placing it next to the pillow instead of handing it back to him. Because… because before you know it—

There’s already a finger to your pussy.

“Shit,” you curse, “you and your impatience.”

“Do you want me to wait?” he asks, as purely as the butt-love-statements as his touch retracts. Mellow voice; only a flutter of his lashes is missing, really. “I can wait.”

No, he can’t. Liar.

“No,” you repeat, readily letting your upper body fall. You bring your fingertips back to your ass, tracing it down until met with your arousal. “Don’t do this to me now.”

You know his answer before he utters it, “Don’t you do this to me now.” You hear a click of his tongue; a poised beam plays around your lips. “Alright. But.”

He snatches your legs from under your body until you’re flat on your tummy; you grunt just a bit. Not expecting the soft, little, “Do tell me if I do too much.”

As if…

He knows his limits. But the constant, caring pleads still always grip your heart; so you nod.

“Okay.”

Simultaneous with a fond slap, that word is the last verbal sign of his presence that you receive for a while. Whatever follows is a pure testing of limitations; of jumbling up your senses.

Because the moment Jungkook lifts your ass to his face, his tongue is already out. Experimental at first, of course, patient. He takes a second for languid kisses and soft necking, fingers exploring the inside of your thigh as if to soothe your restlessness.

And it helps. Your limbs shake a bit less, your mind focused on where his touches go. Fingertips near your folds. Lips kissing around your pussy. Then, repeating the same brush of his hands as before, but on your other leg, moving inward. 

Despite the first taste he already got, he’s suddenly changed his tactic; and you’re greedy. Mewling in tiny, quiet sounds, barely realising that they’re coming out of you. You repeat his name over and over, but it never quite tumbles out in its entirety.

So you keep it at moaning, eyes closed, so infinitely relaxed.

He moves back, gently asking, “All good?”

“So far… do more, please.”

It’s what he always waits for. You know. Jungkook has a fetish for your pleas, and the tiniest fragment of your beseeching voice is usually enough for him.

Like now.

Encouraged, he pushes your shirt up to your tits, halting right under them. He touches your naked stomach, brushing your belly button, grazing a palm over your lower back and straight to your ass.

The tongue ghosting around your sex finally dares a step forward. Gets a little taste of what’s to come. Circles around your folds, then to your nub; spit gathered on the tip, never too hard, oh-so-mildly — and maybe that’s what makes it even worse.

The lack of any force. How pleasant it feels. And you let him know — respond with a desperate, unheard sound, goosebumps sprawling over your skin.

Jungkook discerns it as a signal to go on; to do more. His nose buries between your ass, pushing his tongue in a little further, alternating between licking and kissing and collecting spit. Your lust shoots to the sky; you twist and move, but he holds you in place with a single hand.

And when he disappears, you regret it immediately. You hear him say, “Hey, hey… Don’t you want me to fuck your brains out, sweetheart? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Mmhyes, yes, please.”

“…Then stop moving.” His nails are harsh against your waist, and you whimper. “The more you behave now,” he leaves a kiss on your butt, loosening his grip around your waist, “the harder I’ll go later.”

“…Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.”

He chuckles. What an ass; leaving you physically and mentally covetting, and then enjoying your reactions.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, biting a little, stroking your hips, holding onto your ass cheeks.

“Mhm.” It’s all you can voice at this point. You don’t have any power over your body; can’t lift it off the mattress. “Love it.”

“Perfect.”

And then, everything seems to happen faster.

Arousal and orgasm have already built from his advances, and he gives you the rest when he starts drawing circles around your pussy again. Heightens your senses, slurps and drinks you up. Every single time it feels like he’s learned something new; you swoon at the attention to detail.

What might he be looking like right now?

Perhaps he’s biting his lip. Maybe his eyebrows are furrowed, usually tell-tale signs of either him enjoying his meal or him enjoying his meal.

“Shit,” you mumble, but you don’t think he hears it — too busy sucking at your folds, adding a finger to the mix.

Sometimes, the licks are generous, wide-tongued; sometimes, he focuses on each part individually. The insides, the clit; how you sound, how you wind.

There’s truly an utter craze you feel for this man; no matter which hazy or soft or delicate situation, he fits you like a missing puzzle piece. Like a match made in Heaven. Knows what he’s doing.

Because he knows you. Because he studies you. Observes you.

Sex is only one instance of his attentiveness.

And perhaps that’s the whipped thought that pushes you over the edge eventually. Maybe that’s why the moment passes so quickly and explosions blind you all of a sudden. Why your face glows so hot, sweat collecting over your upper lip.

It must be.

Because as he stimulates you for another minute, your sensitive cunt submits, the knot in your lower stomach unwinding. He unties it fully, eliciting a stirring feeling that makes your pussy flutter.

“Holy shit…”

You only register your voice when the peeping in your ear stops. Your voice is still damped, the world around you vanishing a bit; except for him. Always except for him.

And.

You also notice that your fingers are hurting. Did you dig them into the sheets too hard? Tug too hard? You don’t know… but their pads are almost numb.

Jungkook’s mouth is still there, though lighter now, and his finger is slightly slapping your cunt, encouraging you to keep letting go. Catching you on his tongue.

And then… it’s over. You remain quiet.

You’ll be a mess for the foreseeable future; or at least, the upcoming one or two minutes. Your back and neck are already covered in a sheen of sweat; it’s so unbearably hot, as opposed to the recklessly approaching cold outside.

Remaining like this, you let him kiss your body through your orgasm, delicately soothing the pain his fingers caused across your ass. Hovering above the small of your back, he asks, “Can you move?”

“Not yet. But…” You scan the spot next to the pillow until you find the lube, throwing it back to him at last. “I can watch.”

No objection. So you turn around.

When you finally meet his gaze again, having started missing it, he’s already unbuckling his pants. Right there, towering above you, looking directly at you. Jaw chiselled, lips swollen.

You decide to spur him on; bring the tie between your covered tits before gentle fingers grasp them deftly. Rolling your digits around their outline before squeezing them. There’s an instant reaction: The hard bite of his lip, the rushed discarding of his clothes.

And fuck, he’s beautiful. So pretty how he despairs bit by bit, only letting his pants make it to his knees before his cock has sprung out. A true monster, bloodshot like this, further growing as it twitches and jerks… blue veins wanting to be licked.

But it’s lube-day, and neither of you can wait.

So you let him make a fist around his thickness, stroking it and momentarily letting out a groan. His chest seems to deflate, shoulders dropping as he jerks himself off once more, squirts some lube into his palm, and returns to his intentions.

“Good,” you praise, watching his cheeks grow rosier, “wish you could go all out.”

“I can’t.”

You know. You know, because he’s storing all his patience for what’s to come. With and for you.

Breath stagnating, you watch a drop of sweat trail down between his tanned pecs and then into his shirt; fabric sticking to his skin. He doesn’t notice it, dazy as hell, wiping his tip clear of the precum. Every damn time you’re in disbelief when his cock grows in size, firmer and rock hard.

So many veins adorning it as it rises to his belly button; you’re sure you’ll feel them against your walls, too. You get on wobbly knees, hair already a mess, both of you still in your soaked white dress shirts.

Jungkook’s mane is falling apart much as yours, messier now, but soaking him in so much more sex appeal. There are no boundaries to his beauty; it transcends your understanding.

Enough of watching, you mentally capitulate a minute later. Too many moans and clipped vocals fill the room, whiny once, deep later; so you float up once your body allows, targeting his cock straight-forwardly.

You only deliver one surprise kiss, helping him out as you drag your tongue along the tiny slit. He reacts, caught off guard, voicing, “Oh—”

But against his possible expectations, you don’t continue. Instead, you drag your hand along his cock only twice — up and down, feeling the smooth skin, the slippery lube, the hardness underneath.

And then, you order, “Sit. Please.”

“What?”

“Here,” you point to the headboard, on your knees, kissing his sides and up his chest until you reach the open button. “Sit down for me.”

He pauses. Waits for a moment, touching your cheek when your face aligns with his. And when you keep your begging, soft gaze intact, he huffs out a broken laugh, and states, “Not sure if I can trust you to not kill me. But…” A kiss to your left eyebrow. “Anything for you.”

And whatever happens next, passes by fast.

How he obliges, dick dangling in front of his body, waiting for ruin. How he hisses a little when the sweat-drenched back touches the cold headboard. And how you adjust your body, soon sitting in reverse, facing the closet.

Floating over his cock, straddling him, spreading your pussy with your fingers. He stutters behind you, grasping for words, but silences when you move and wiggle your ass a little, only dropping a few inches until your cock can prod your entrance.

And that’s all you do. Multiple times. Practising restraint, focusing on the closet, blinking rapidly. Perhaps you’re more patient this time, because from behind, you hear another sharp hiss, and then a somewhat agitated, but endlessly turned on, “The hell are you doing to me?”

“Nothing,” you promise; the jest costs you all your energy, “what are you talking about?”

“You’re so funny, aren’t you?”

His words are accentuated by sudden grabs of your ass. One or two pinches. You should’ve known. But despite his impatience, he never forces you down onto his cock. Lets you do.

“I’m not trying to be,” you argue, aligning yourself with him gradually. Preparing yourself mentally and physically. Leaking to no end. “You’re just delusional.”

“Must be. Too good to be real.”

If you had it in you, you’d laugh. But the approaching sins and the image of his affected expressions fog your brain. Your body burns, your lower tummy tenses; your muscles feel heavy as you loom over him, and you only endure another moment.

Because soon enough, your thirst overpowers every other thought; the weight of your desire drags your body down, thankful that he’s keeping his cock upright. And then, just like that… so easily, no resistance detected, you slide down.

His tip splits you open first, eliciting an immediate sensation. New every freaking time; like the craze he fucks your mind into space with wipes your memory each time.

“Hnnngh, this is just…”

Whatever it is, there’s no word yet invented for it. So you give up right away, squinting your eye shut until you see dots and forms, breath stuck in your throat. The lack of regular inhales muddles your mind, and you feel further heat rise to your cheeks.

“Go— slow,” he pants behind you.

Of course he’s not all the way in yet. No matter how much it feels like it; you could keep going and going. Hard and monstrous, burying inside you, no end in sight.

The filling feeling catches you off guard each time; the way he leaves no room inside, causing butterflies in your stomach, wandering straight to your pussy. A ridiculously perfect phenomenon, like a key to its lock.

God. You’re overspilling.

As soon as he’s bottomed out, you relish the feeling of his skin against your ass for a moment, registering how his fingers sneak to your flesh slowly. And then, you angle your body forward, clutching the sheets before you start moving.

You keep your pace slow. Put all your intention on delicate motions, all the way up with a whimper, and then slamming back down with a gasp. The farther you go, the wetter you get. Until you’ve probably left a shimmering liquid all over his cock, gliding too damn easily.

“That’s… that’s new,” Jungkook mutters. At least that’s what you think you hear. “Gotta do it again.”

And you’re not even done with this time. But you understand — oh, you fucking understand. There’s something about not yet seeing his face but imagining all of it. How fucked out he must look. How red the apples of his cheeks must be. How sweaty his hairline is.

You grip the sheets tighter, legs closer to his, head between your shoulders. All you manage between the heavy breathing is a high-pitched, ”Jungkook—”

“Yes. Yeah, baby. This is…”

“I know. I know, keep talking.”

Which is an unfair command. He can think as much as you; you can barely comprehend letters, even less put them into actual words. But somehow, he still mutters whatever nonsense he can think of.

“Gotta do it again,” he repeats as you fasten your pace.

“Why always play such an angel, huh?” he asks as you moan and whine.

“When you’re a… a fucking demon. Literally,” he declares when you blow out breaths, letting out a crying sound.

He feels glorious inside you. Solid and gorgeous. He holds your ass cheeks in a tight grip, the strength nearly bruising when you let a hand wander back between your legs, grazing his firm balls.

When you turn around to check briefly, slowing your motions, he looks up, meets your eyes. Apparently, he wasn’t gazing at you directly at all; and you imagine there wasn’t much to see other than a bouncing mane anyway.

What he’s actually so distracted by must be…

“How’s it… it look?” you ask, circling your hips, feeling every vein, as predicted.

“It looks…”

Must be art.

Combined with his love for your ass, he must be enjoying the view; at least judging from the constant kneading and spreading. Allowing a direct, front-seat show of his cock appearing out of you, disappearing inside of you.

Glistening. Sucking him in. It must…

“Looks so fuck—ing insane from where I sit.”

The swear word is interrupted by a millisecond, breathy as hell. Allows a glimpse into how delirious he might already be, possibly faring worse than you. Impatient, seeking more.

And you do know your Jeon Jungkook well.

Because not even another breath later, his body that slid down halfway, bolts up. You feel the shift clearly; it pulls you backwards along with him. Only, you realise the movement isn’t the only source straightening you so fast.

First and foremost, it’s the freaking hand. Covered in letters and more ink, tugging at the dangling tie and following it up to the slowly unravelling knot before… abruptly snaking around your neck. Fingers right under your jaw, lifting your head.

He tugs you in until your back collides with his chest, and to your chagrin, you notice that neither of you has gotten rid of those stupid dress shirts. You won’t be able to wear them again without drifting to this memory…

Sleeve open, he wraps his arm around your body, just under your tits, and whispers, “Why… drive me mad like this?”

“H–huh?”

“So far away. Weren’t you ffffu—” The messy zero you’re drawing with your hips interrupts his string of thoughts, and he spends a second finding it again before he finishes, “Weren’t you far away long enough?”

Shit…

This isn’t just an affair. This isn’t temporary. Your brain still can’t quite understand that you’ve actually occupied this man’s heart.

That your gestures and touches aren’t a fleeting dream, but blissfully real. That you’re his, and that he’s yours.

He’s right. You were far away for too long.

So you sneak your arm back, around the back of his neck and pull him closer by his hair. His lips brush your cheek and then retreat to your ear. Nibbling for a moment. Kissing it.

You don’t know what to focus on — on the way his teeth light up your nerves, or the way his hand moves down your shirt and bra, and up your body. Soon taking your tits captive, squeezing hard, pinching your nipples.

“Move a bit,” he orders, though you don’t really have to.

His hand remains on your neck, so he pulls you forward; guess he’s sick of the shirt, too.

“You too,” you murmur.

“Yes. Patience, love.”

No. Fuck no.

Is it the nickname or his actions that empty your head this time? You don’t know. But you react.

Moaning, but it soon transitions into a yelp when he jerks up suddenly, balls deep. Your voice breaks, and you’re breathless; grateful when he unbuttons your shirt, dragging it down your shoulders.

Helping him however you can, you pull at the clothing almost aggressively, over your hand until it’s stuck there. Sporting a shirt paw, you hear Jungkook laugh behind you, peppering more kisses to your shoulder as he says, “Ah… take it easy. You’re with me tonight.”

One quick pause, and then, “You’re always with me. No rush anymore, okay? Yeah, baby?”

He aids you out of the shirt and tie with tender pecks. Thoroughly affected when you only nod so softly, eyebrows kissing. He unclasps your bra swiftly, breathing against your neck as he bares your body once and for all, putting the garment aside.

And then his forefinger moves along your neck again, only barely touching over your vocal cords; feeling your gulp before he journeys further down, back to your tits. Probably leaving scars; his nails are reckless today.

“Wanted to see those pretty tits so bad,” he says, though he doesn’t halt here — tiptoes south to your pelvis, and then to your clit. “Been thinking about this all day.”

Really? 

So each of these touches consume his thoughts every damn moment of the day, too?

“You wanna see them… properly?” you wonder. You haven’t moved in a bit, lost in him, mentally tracing the lines he draws on your body. “‘Cause I wanna see you.”

“Mmmmhm. Doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Then I’ll…”

You don’t speak further; busy with your further advances. Your pussy feels lonely the moment you let him slip out. You’re terribly wobbly on your knees, your thighs visibly shaking as you turn around.

Jungkook holds a hand towards you, a safety net in case you tip over. He holds your wrist gently as you move over the mattress; never more than now are you glad that his isn’t as soft as yours back at the house.

Keeping your balance, you straddle him again, back in a similar position, albeit finally facing him now. And your eyes roll back just the moment he fills you up again.

Your legs are exhausted; the moment you start moving, you barely make it far enough, and Jungkook notices immediately, whispering, “My baby tired?”

And when you nod, he holds you tight, wrapping you in his arms, and—

“Hold– hold onto me, okay?”

You do. And then — he thrusts up once.

When your head falls, his eyelids drop a little, nose touching your jaw as he says, “I could fuck you all goddamn day.”

“Do it… you can now.” His head descends to your chest, mouth open. You’re not sure what you’re opting for, but you still call his name, “Kook…”

Repeatedly lunging in, he collects the words he needs to say, so irresistibly frenzied when he vows, “I’m yours. Okay? And… I need you to stay. Am yours, baby.”

Out of nowhere — or maybe not. Maybe these very sentiments were swimming in his eyes all the time; you could just not see them yet.

Lips a hair width apart, you opt for one single kiss, only a ghost touch. You tell him, “Promised the world. Will promise it to you… too.”

“Good.” His nails scrape your back, and you tug at his hair. A moan tumbles out of him, transforming into words as he holds your body in place, pumping into you, “Fuck, you– feel so good. Just you. So, so good.”

“Ngh, I—”

“I know, I can… can’t breathe, either.”

He kisses your shoulder, the skin flaming under his mouth. Although late, you imitate his prior gesture, peeling off his intruding shirt as smoothly and fast as you possibly can. It’s been a wall between you for too long now; you need to see those pretty tits, too.

And once the buttons open and the shirt flies, you finally bask in the toned beauty. Soaked chest, brawny, chocolate chip nipples as hard as yours. Soon pressing into you, lips thirsting for you, slamming against your mouth.

The fever rises, the temperature akin to lava. Your sounds are desperate and wanting, and you hold onto him for dear life. And before you know it, you’re not claiming your throne anymore.

Suddenly, you find yourself floating for a moment, and then sinking into the mattress, and then curling your hands into fists and him slamming into you harder, deeper, all the way in...

Fuck.

Towering over you, he spreads your legs wide, temptingly licking his thumb before it presses down onto your swollen clit. One jab. A second. Another and another and another.

“Yes. Yes, please—” you beg and yell, letting him pound you into oblivion.

The first hint of stars already grace the darkness behind your eyelids, but then Jungkook starts delivering rapid, light slaps to your nub. He’s chasing your high as much as you are; you know. The chaos unfolding doesn’t hold him back from observing your reactions.

Only focusing on his own end of pleasure when you’re done.

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, and you cling to his arms, his hands pushing into your waist. And it takes just a moment longer. And another second. Several more shoves, the curve of his cock dragging along your walls and your sensitive spot.

Thoroughly drenched, both of you, as he drives all of him into you. Parting your legs whenever they attempt to shut again. And the universe finally expands, a million celestial bodies dying and imploding, much like you and…

Suddenly, you’re off the cliff.

Falling into a deep ocean. Or the vast night sky. You don’t know — you don’t feel real.

All you know is that your thighs and ass are wet. That you ruined yet another sheet. That Jungkook is out of breath, fucking you through your high, ensuring that you come back to him only bit by bit, so, so slowly.

Gentler now, you feel his body subside, down to you. His skin is glowing with sweat when your eyes crack open just a slit, though they instantly drop close again when he kisses you once more.

He does it only softly this time, as if he’s trying it out. Gauging your reaction. And you do reciprocate the touch, even if weakly. You’re still too gone to look at him properly, but that doesn’t deter him from casting another spell in your heart.

Because his words reach every fibre of you. Butterflies swarm your stomach as he says, “I still can't believe that you’re staying. You did this… you fucking did this—”

“Why not? Wh–why can’t you believe it?”

“Because you’re staying with me. You stayed with me. And…”

Somewhere, it stings. That he’s surprised by constant company. By someone not leaving… by someone worth all his affection glueing themselves to him. And yet, you understand.

That’s a pain the two of you share.

He stares through your gaze, as if he’s frisking for something specific. With each passing moment, it’s like he’s realising something new, yet unable to really verbalise it.

Like something’s burning on his tongue.

But all he does whisper is, “How do I ever stay away from you now, huh?”

“Don’t.” You touch his face, and he doesn’t waste a second to lean into your touch, kissing your palm. “Please just don’t.”

“Won’t be able to… And it sucks that—”

He frees your face from your stick hair strands, still moving inside you. His own tresses hang into your forehead; his thumb touches your lower lip.

“That I can’t be with you every damn second of the day. I mean…” He leans in. Pecks your eyelids; your heart bursts. “What if I can’t move an inch from you?”

You keep staring. Unable to answer. Keep looking and drinking in every emotion laid bare in his confessions. Your misty mind feels calm; not as heavy as hours ago.

And you’re woozy; so indescribably giddy when he adds, “You… you mean so much to me.”

Damn. Damndamndamn.

And you’re fucking obsessed with him. Want his kiss on you all the time; words tattooed on your brain, etched into your soul.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh— yeah?”

“Can you…” You gulp, drooling at the thought, and then spitting it out at once, “Finish in my mouth.”

“Shit,” he exclaims, though the word is more a maniac laugh than anything else, “you know exactly you— you can’t say this to me.”

You know. Because any image of his cock ramming your throat empties his head.

Once more, he mumbles, ”Damn it,” before he’s picking up on pace. You move your hands over his broad shoulders, soon curling your fingers in to hold tight — it’s what the situation suddenly requires. Because gradually, his hips slam into you faster.

The dull sound of his thighs meeting yours repeatedly is lewd, volume increasing when he starts jackhammering into you. Your rhythmic, breathless cries become irregular and broken, turning into screams, and you feel a droplet escaping the corner of your eye.

Throat dry and jaw aching from the parted mouth, you keen from the sensitive feeling inside. You’re so full. So invigorated. Holding onto him tight, so you don’t crumble.

And just as you yell out a dozen curses, Jungkook, voice raised, states, “Fuck, fuuuck, gonna come, babe, f— open your mouth—”

You do. Instantly, tongue out, choking because it’s so much harder to breathe like that. Jungkook trembles over you, lips wet; his arms threaten to give out, letting his body nearly collapse on you, but just a moment before he does, he pulls out.

Hurrying, his knees dig closer to you, cock and ass right above your face as he holds the length between strong fingers. Secured in his palm, he strokes himself over you, glancing into your hungry eyes.

“Pretty girl,” his other digits raise your head by your chin, and his body is swinging, unstable; shoulders high. “My sweet baby… You can’t just…”

Pinching your chin fondly, he digs his cock into your mouth, still pumping the base and touching his balls. You raise your head to not suffocate in the process, and he lets your chin go to grip your hair, lifting you halfway just in time before—

His load finally spills. All of it. So much of it. Hot and sticky, thick as the ropes shoot straight into your throat. You nearly gag, keeping yourself together, swallowing diligently as he empties his balls.

There’s fucking buckets of it, shit…

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing, and once he’s done, you close your lips around his cock. Still hard, although slowly softening, you lick the remnants of his arousal and whatever’s left of you. The tastes mingle, and your head spins…

And then, he pulls back. You’re beaten, gulping, smacking away the saltiness.

Still overwhelmed from the taste, you let your head fall back onto the pillow; but your fingers still seek his touch. The mattress next to you flattens again as his knees retract, and soon enough, laying down beside you.

Both of you are too done in to speak, even less to move. So you let a few minutes pass. Then, you find his fingers, entangling them with yours; waiting a bit more.

And only when your heart rate calms a bit, you stir, hearing him suggest, “Quick shower?”

You smile. The kisses aren’t over yet.

For a while longer, the profuse heat lingers.

The radiator is off, and some of the windows were open when you came home. And despite choosing to stay bare after the shower for some more, you don’t register any of the cold yet; you’re sheltered, safe and so, so warm.

Jungkook’s fingers keep trailing up and down way after you’re done, lips planting generous kisses to your scalp and face. He paves his way to the corner of your mouth and then up to your eyebrows; and when he reaches your nose again, you lift your head abruptly.

Chasing his kiss, even if for just a second, a hand on his cheek and shoulders rising. Occasional giggles and smiles, tickles and pinches keep you busy temporarily; you don’t know how much time passes, nor do you care.

You only snap out of your daydreams when his kisses gain on urgency, tongue diligent. A palm creeps dangerously close to your ass, threatening to slink to your beaten sex.

But your reaction is quicker than his sly attempt, and you say, “Wait— no. Can’t do it again.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Of course.” Damn his shoulder shrug. You tap his pelvis before you wrap a leg around his waist, teasing, “I didn’t feel the twitch at all.”

He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. But it’s not my fault that you’re so stubbornly sexy.”

“Stubbo—” You giggle mid-sentence, imitating the shake of his head. “I hope you know I’d let you tie me down and do whatever the fuck—”

“My god. Stop saying it like that.”

“—but my body won’t let me yet. I also still stink.”

“Stink?” He shifts dramatically, burying his nose between your tits. His voice is muffled when he asks, “Do you?”

“Stop. You’re so weird,” you scold, but the word is drenched in laughter; you forcefully lift his head again. “We still need to change the sheets and the shower was quick. Do I not?”

“You kinda do. Like cherry blossoms.”

“Shut up.”

“What? Sue me for telling the truth. My girlfriend smells like cherry blossoms.”

Oh… oh?

Wait.

Your mouth shuts tight.

Did he…

The beam that spreads on your face is almost embarrassing; surprise, joy and affection conjoin, your guts twisting. You take a breath. Feel the sparkles in your own damn eyes; tender gaze directed at him.

And the freaking flutter in your heart; the temperature in your cheeks. Do these things ever stop?

The words sink in slowly; and Jungkook takes the time to ask, “What?”

“You… you haven’t called me that yet, have you?”

He’s perplexed. Guess even to him, it was a Freudian slip, because his eyes are wider than ever. He waits, thinks for a moment; then admits, “Uhm. No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, I… like the sound of it.”

“It’s… it’s true. You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?” His eyes smile before he does; unrestrained devotion in them. “My baby?”

He says it so innocently, so sweetly that you can’t help but coo. Teasingly, you pat his cheek, telling him, “I mean I hope I am. Considering I’m moving in with you.”

“Yes. You are. Of course you are.” 

“…Girlfriend.” Sheepishly, much like a teenage girl, you keep your twinkle intact, still feeling the lasting gleam on your face. You must be reminiscent of the sun and the moon. Emboldened, you start, “Then… boyfriend. Can I ask you something?”

The term elicits similar glee in him, teeth out, grin bright. He waits wordlessly with sparkling eyes, and you touch his lip, asking, “How do you feel right now? About all that?”

“I feel… I’m in disbelief. You’re moving in with me and just. Somehow, even saying it feels surreal.” He sighs, searching for words. “I’m in disbelief and crazy for you. That’s all I know.”

Falling deeper and without an end is possible. Jungkook has taught you that; still does.

“…I was so scared you wouldn’t like me doing this,” you confess.

“What? Saying yes to being with me all the time? Sounds horrible.” He laughs. “I’m happy. And I’m happy that you’re happy, too. Okay?”

“I wasn’t for a while, you know? You make me feel good. Take me by my word and give yourself credit for it.” He needs to. He might have doubted his role in everyone else’s life so far, but his value to you needs to be clear at all times. “Not just now, Kook, but, you always make me feel good. I hope you know that.”

“I do. This time, I do…” Content, you smile; until he stalls for dramatic effect, mouth open to indicate something to come. Your beam expands to exhilarated laughter when he squeezes your ass again, adding with another snicker, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make my favourite munchkin feel good?”

“…There’s more than one?!”

Hmm…

That’s what you’d been yearning for all this time.

Because there’s something so vulnerable about your elation; the enlivened titter. About your newfound feelings. About these very first phases of a sensitive relationship. Something serene.

And the meaning behind your words keeps changing with him; carries much more weight, and makes you feel so much lighter. As if levitating on cotton clouds.

Girlfriend. Boyfriend.

Peace reigns supreme and for a while you’re hopeful enough to doubt anything could disrupt it. Even the world is quiet when you look out the window.

September isn’t yet harsh enough to cover all above pitch black, but it’s still dark grey and drab. The sky still somewhat illuminates the unruffled room through the tilted window.

But just when tranquillity reaches its peak, your phone vibrates on the bedside table; you flinch.

The screen’s shine overshadows the faded monochrome of the world. It’s unwelcome, intruding — and once you lean over, holding the blanket over your chest, you realise that the message is just as unsought.

Mom [7:12PM]: We need to talk. Mom [7:12PM]: I’m still at Charmante for another hour and a half.

…At this time?

Did you leave her this desperate?

“What is it?” a dulcet voice asks from behind.

You hear the bed creak a little, his body cold without yours. Despising the distance, he puts a gentle hand to your shoulder, planting a kiss right next to it; when you lack his desired reaction, he asks again, “Everything okay?”

“Hm?” You barely tilt your head, eyes still glued to the words that you’ve already internalised. You cover his hand with yours. “Yeah. Just. Look.”

You hold the phone into his face; the penetrant white floodlights his skin. The warm gold shines in the glow, his lips drier than before. They move as he reads, and then, they close, giving way to a hum.

The initial silence suggests that he might be thinking the same as you — to bail. To shut the phone again, slide it to the edge of the bedside table and drop back against his chest, above his heart.

But you should know Jungkook better; he won’t discourage a familial reunion, praying for a better outcome than he ever had. He’s always spoken for your relationship with them — thinking back, he has never truly badmouthed your mother.

So you’re not too surprised when he hands you the phone back, careful to not turn your mother’s two marks blue, and suggests, “Maybe you should go.”

You sigh. You don’t want to. It’s too early for confrontation; time hasn’t passed, and the issue hasn’t yet marinated. Then again, the problem might only grow if you postpone this.

But your heart is biased, angry, refusing to oblige to her demands one more time. So you ask for yet another confirmation, “Right now? But I…”

You turn back to him, shaking your head slowly, troubled. He props his head up, eyes staring down to you as you lay flat on your back, hands folded under your breasts.

“Give yourself closure, babe.”

“I got closure.”

“No,” he strikes back, fingers lifting to your jawline. He touches it lightly, brushing it delicately, “Actual closure. To finish this. And she deserves it, too, you know? She’s still waiting there, angel.”

“Jungkook, you…” You click your tongue, gaze swerving to the unlit ceiling light and then back to him. “You’re too good.”

“I’m sorry.”

You smile, and he throws a palpitation-inducing twinkle back. You know he’s right — it must have been a shock for her after all. More or less double-crossed by her own daughter, humiliated in a public setting — her brain must be frying.

Reluctantly, you stretch your arm to the side, tapping for your phone, and roll your eyes at Jungkook playfully when you open the message to type back. His body floats down, lips planting a barely-there kiss to your collarbone.

You [7:14PM]: I’ll be there in half an hour.

“Alright then…”

Your body lifts off the mattress with the idlest of movements. The afterglow might die once you’re there, but you guess you need the confrontation–fight? Argument?—to ensure more, blissful nights.

This time, you don’t bother with your clothing as much as you did when you prepared for the press conference. You slip into the first best jeans you find, throwing a cosy pullover over your torso.

Busy with the rush, you don’t notice that Jungkook isn’t standing behind you in his usual grey joggers but in jeans, too. He’s fiddling with your car keys, stuffing his wallet into a pocket, and you stare wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation.

And once your digging stare pierces through him, he reciprocates it with similar confusion, half his hand still in the pocket as he inquires, “What?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, gesturing up and down his body.

“What do you mean?”

The back and forth of questions leaves you further bewildered, and you step closer, softly snatching the keys out of his fingers as you say, “Babe… It won’t take long.”

You don’t think he quite understands — it seems that to him, it was a given this entire time that he’d accompany you to your work building. But when it seeps through, his expression changes, more relaxed.

His head tilts, blinking slowly as he assures, “I won’t let you go alone.”

“Kook—”

“It’s honestly not a big deal. You said it won’t take long, so I’ll wait outside.” He shrugs, forefinger at the nape of his neck, scratching. “Plus, I’ll just get bored here alone.”

A warm flutter engulfs your heart. You wonder how couples spend days, months, years together without burning up every moment during their togetherness. Because you don’t think you’ll ever get over the fire he sets ablaze in your lungs — how does one get accustomed to affection like this?

You don’t know.

Maybe you don’t need to know.

Not more than what his eyes say, at least.

“What did you do all the time I wasn’t here?”

His grin is playful, but there’s tender truth in his words, “Something any guy waiting for you would do,” big brown irides meet yours, fingers fiddling, “counted the seconds until I could see you again.”

Your laugh is sudden before you ask, “Is that a quote from SpongeBob?”

And the joy holds on as you leave the apartment and rush down the flight of stairs. The short comedic journey to your car is distracting — most of reality only dawns on you when you step into the car.

Reminiscent of the last time the two of you drove over to a confrontation — just a little after his vacation; just a bit before the heartbreak.

The streets are quieter and emptier at this hour, the repose enhanced by the gentle drizzle. It’s significantly darker than when you arrived home, though it hasn’t been too long since you drove this exact way in the opposite direction. Two hours?

Maybe it’s the cloudy, almost black sky, accompanied by the hushed sound of the rain that’s amplifying your fears. Because the calming ambience from a minute ago worries you the closer you get — this once, you’d rather bask in sunshine and daydreams.

But no.

Hope is on your side; you’re done worrying, right?

As you sit up straight in your seat, Jungkook glances from you from the driver’s seat, eyes shooting to and fro between you and the street. His lips part as he operates the wheel with one hand, using the other to wrap around your fingers.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, squeezing once before he lets go, brushing over the back of your hand and gripping the wheel again, “there’s just so much she can say. You made a decision as a full adult and she’ll have to accept it.”

“Yeah.” You follow the streetlamps and their warm radiance, redirecting your focus on the next as you pass each. “I hope so.”

The ride home was different; you were filled to the brim with energy and adrenaline. Your legs were putty, so he insisted for you to freeze on the passenger’s seat, reluctant to hand you the keys to drive.

You were waiting for the streets to end, to shut his door behind you, and to breathe and sigh through a sleepless night with him. The anticipation, combined with the aftermath of the press conference made you restless — you wouldn’t stop gnawing on your thumb.

And he didn’t interrupt your thoughts, let you flick through them until he finally looked at you at a traffic light. Raising the back of his digits to your cheek, assuring, “It’s okay, angel.”

Maybe the breathy tone and the hundred promises wrapped into one reassurance prompted your reaction at his place at all.

Jungkook turns into your work street, and you hold your breath. Your heart knocks violently against your ribcage, disabling a proper thread of thoughts. Which is a shame, because you really wanted to draw a collection of snappy remarks you could retort in there.

Instead, you merely look at the entrance far at the end of the street, unmoving as Jungkook moves into a parking lot and kills the engine. You blink; then blink some more. The gulp, you think, is audible in the small space of the car.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks.

“No… I don’t think she’d want that.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, leaning forward to pinch your chin between two fingers. He moves your head toward him, eyes a liquid, wavy ocean at night. Affectionate. “She’s your mom. Despite everything, I know she loves you.”

“I don’t know…”

“She does. I saw it the night I picked you up and I saw it Monday morning, too. So.” The head tilt, the soft curve of his eyebrows, the care in his pupils — they’re a healing bandage around your heart. “Don’t be scared.”

He leans over the centre console armrest, still holding your face in his grasp, and presses his lips just barely, sweetly to your wrinkled forehead. You think the muscles react immediately, temples relaxing.

For a second, he lingers, and then he pulls back a fraction, looking at you from an inch-wide distance, and whispers, “Don’t be. I’ll be here all the time.”

Right — armour-clad, like a knight. You finally nod, a weight dropping off your heart. You cement his smile deeper into your mind; a coping strategy in case things escalate in there.

Once more, you squint at the entrance doors, though barely visible from here. Hand on the handle, you say, “If I’m not out in twenty minutes, call the police.”

Jungkook tsks, eyes rolling with badly hidden amusement, ordering, “Just go. Will be here.”

Yes. Breathe.

He’ll be right here when you come back. And it’ll all be over then.

The building feels sinister, empty like this. Nothing of the busy and lively mood remains; the lack of the chatter and footsteps drenches the entrance hall in gloom.

It reminds you of horror movie locations; you can’t help but hesitate as you walk in.

Especially today, the silence is unbearably odd; the press isn’t lurking anymore, isn’t swarming you anymore. You don’t want to imagine how hard it must’ve been to convince the reporters to finally leave.

You sigh…

In less than a day, they’ll have today’s highlights printed in newspapers and posted; feasting. Big, bold headlines will narrate the words you uttered; of course they will. With your family relishing a local celebrity status, the media would be damned if it didn’t make any profit out of you.

For the first time, however… you don’t care. You inhale.

And as you walk past the glass walls and up the stairs, clutching your work keys, you don’t feel the overwhelming urge to run away from this place anymore.

You’ve liked your job since you started, no doubt, despite your initial worries and fears. But the thought of losing against the world, or of losing him terrified you. Maybe you were too naive to fight those who wished you harm mere months ago, freshly out of college.

But now that you realise that you won’t be roaming these hallways in a couple weeks, that you have dropped the mic in a way they won’t be able to pick it up to hurt you again, you feel relieved. 

Feel a sense of responsibility. Like an adult.

Okay.

She told you she’d wait in an unoccupied office on the first floor — you usually frequent it with Zara, sifting through theories and changes. You wonder why your mother didn’t settle on her own office — then again, you imagine it must hurt to suffer defeat in the very room where she’s supposed to reign.

As you reach the room, your fist lifts to the door. Though you soon realise that it might be entirely unnecessary, judging the slight gap and the soft noise from within. So you gently push the ajar door open, met with a tired figure behind an imposing desk.

She’s lost in thought, but as you enter, her gaze slowly ascends, her posture reclining. And you see it immediately.

The usually cold eyes, now brimming with disappointment and sorrow.

Her eyes flit, as you assume unintentionally, into a corner. She dodges a simple greeting when you mumble a timid, “Hi,” and you drop the formalities right away. Don’t even attempt to sit — stand there, towering in front of her, not intending to stay long anyway.

And it seems her thoughts and intentions align, because she refuses to beat around the bush, a weary voice asking, “Why did you do that?”

“Mmh… You’re asking like I shouldn’t have.”

“Because you shouldn’t have.” Typical. Her point of view will always be her only truth. You listen on, but can’t help but tense. “Your father and I built this for you, and we intended to forward it to you. You know that.”

You don’t like that tone; you never have. It always ran over your spine as a shiver, weakening your knees. Even today, you’re conditioned to buckle just a bit. You exhale.

“Mom, have you ever heard yourself speak? You’ve never even remotely tried giving me anything else that way,” you complain, leaning to clutch the chair with one hand, the other gesturing around the room. “You built this stupid empire for yourself and kept it intact for me, so I can continue your work.”

You huff out a mocking breath, shaking your head just a little. “You never even asked me. You just told me to do it all.”

Her voice is sharper when she responds, “We didn’t hand it to you to make you suffer, for god’s sake.” She’s irritated, eyebrows deeply furrowed. “Christ, you were supposed to have a good future.”

“Yes, and I will! I’m happier than I have been all summer. Do you even have any idea what happened during that time?!”

You pause. She doesn’t answer, clearly sorting out a hundred answers.

Because a lot happened — most of it a direct effect of her or the media’s bullshit. Of course she won’t be able to pick out just one single thing.

So you explain, “Did you even understand that Jungkook broke up with me because of the thing you pulled with that dumb journalist?” You spit the word like a curse, grimacing. “And that he avoided me because he thought he was ruining me?”

You try to make it sound as ridiculous as you can muster, wondering if the realisation is dawning on her. 

“Did you even notice how I didn’t come out of my room for da—”

“Just why,” she interrupts, eyes shutting tight in disbelief and agitation, palms toward the ceiling, “would you jeopardise your life and emotions because of him?”

Jeopardise. Holy fuck.

She has a whack understanding of villainhood.

“Because he’s important to me! You can’t even imagine how hurtful it is to only be talking about work to you. You never ask me if I eat or sleep enough. You didn’t even give me a graduation present. He did! But you wouldn’t know!”

You think back to the lamp in your room, the one she has never seen — remember the dark ceiling, the aurora and stars projected to it. The touches that followed.

“He’s unbelievably important to me, Mom. Okay?”

“You’ve been with him for just a while.”

You grit your teeth. It’s like talking to a wall; a daycare child would catch the sentiment better than her.

“Yeah,” you say, scoffing, “and it makes me embarrassed for you, because I’ve known you my entire life and you never cared this much. Like, fuck, even Dad did.”

Her jaw clenches as you swear, nostrils close to flaring as you concede more pain, “Jungkook actually makes me feel human.” There’s a sting in your eyes. You blink it away. “I’ve been feeling like a person, which just… made me understand that—”

You gulp, your throat tied and your head heavier now. You wait, shrugging. Then—

“That I can receive affection, too.”

Your friends are your first memory of care; barring them, you only had a faint idea of what devotion entailed. Learning what it means to be genuinely important to someone had been on your bucket list — this year, you ticked it off.

“I just hate that he had to glue me together first for me to understand.”

Because she broke you first. The contrast couldn’t be more crystal clear.

She doesn’t dig your monologue. Her countenance fills with different shades of ridicule and embarrassment, shreds of anger thrown into the mix. Filed nails tap against an open folder, the other hand rubbing her forehead.

“You sound ridiculous,” she derides, “you can’t throw your future away because of love. It won’t pay your bills.”

“I’m gonna be a manager, though. I’ll pay my fucking bills. And Jungkook is working his way up, too.” Your latter statement gains a sceptical stare, followed by a skyrocketing eyebrow. It satisfies you. “He is. He’s getting his own part at an exhibition. We’ll be fine.”

She frowns, mouth already agape as she psyches herself up for another answer, and you already roll your eyes, prepared to interrupt.

“You—”

“You were so grateful last weekend,” you argue.

“Because you almost killed yourself!”

“No! If you’re so worried, then call! You could’ve called and asked where I was like mothers do. Made sure I was well and not drunk out of my mind!”

“Stop it,” she stands, her voice as damaging as a serrated knife. You flinch as she charges for you, and you breathe out, ready for a slap — but her body halts in front of yours. “How do you expect to run from this just by switching to another company? Novaura’s still mine, too.”

No…

You hold your breath. Straighten your back, hands sweaty as your nails dig in. She’s been predictable half her life; not always quite vile. But you know what she’ll say next, and you know it’ll be the most odious thing she’s ever uttered.

“And I could keep you here if I wanted to. They’d throw you out if I told them, too.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink, scorning, “You’re serious?”

A breath of laughter escapes your chest, and you shake your head in disbelief. You’re done.

You press your lips into a thin line before smacking them, nodding in faux agreement before you say, “Okay. Go ahead. But if you do, I won’t shut up this time. Today, I was being nice. I praised you, and none of my nice talk was actually deserved.”

Choosing your words carefully, you pronounce every syllable as if explaining molecular biology. She listens, not spitting an answer immediately.

So you challenge further, “You want to throw me out? Do it. It’s your reputation. I didn’t say anything wrong at the conference today, because it’s my right to choose the career I want. You’d be abandoning your own daughter if you pulled this through.”

You have her attention. Her lips stay sealed.

“And when they ask me,” you continue, eyes now fiery; you’re so done. So, so done. “I will let them know that you did it out of spite. Try finding an excuse why you did when we’re there. I won’t be at any disadvantage.”

You press into your palms one more time, relaxing your jaw, and opt to turn and walk away. Hurling one more glare towards her, you spit, “I have a degree, just a reminder.”

And that should be it.

Pride unfurls across your chest, warm in your stomach as you take long strides out of her office. You hear the quiet call of your name, suddenly desperate. But now that you’ve said your part of the truth, you don’t turn around anymore.

Only shut the door behind you hard; shutting all she’d hoped for with it.

Despite the satisfaction still bubbling in your stomach, you can’t shake the clump in your throat and the anxiety in your heart. The post-fight adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your fingers shake.

There’s discomfort in deserting your own mother; the irrational fears were to be expected. You didn’t do anything wrong, you know, you know. But your organ still thumps like drums, and you lift a hand to your chest. A vain attempt to calm your breathing.

And then… something miraculous happens.

The brisky gust of the evening brushes your cheeks; the bright lights of the city contribute to your sudden peace. They’re a reminder that the world is far wider than this damn building. Than her.

But more than anything, your worries dissipate when the strolling figure grows in your sight. As you walk the short distance to your car, you feel your heart lighten — your forehead and temples relax.

He has his hands on his waist, chin slightly raised as if watching the stars that hide in the city sky anyway. His steps are small, and his eyebrows calm. He looks serene.

And once his hands slide into his open jacket’s pockets, he looks down the street again, surprised when you’re mere steps apart.

“Ah,” he voices, one palm already out as he stretches it toward you, “barely fifteen minutes. I was about to come in.”

Deep sigh in, you let his arm pull you in his embrace, swiftly wrapped around your torso. He smells like fresh clothes, after-rain, and vibrant, like the lights in the sky.

Your arms sling around his body with an urgency, and you muffle your voice against his chest as you ask, “Already?”

“Already?” he repeats, though dragging the word more than you did. His arm squeezes you once as his other hand escapes his pocket, too, stroking your head. “Those weren’t days? I swear I felt myself ageing in there.”

Your fist thumps against his chest lightly, and you giggle against his sweater. “Don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes slowly unfocusing, you rub the zipper teeth of his jacket between your fingers, softly mumbling, “Thank you for being here. You’re the best.”

You feel a movement over your head; he’s lowering his chin to your hair, still caressing your head as if lulling you into sleep. And it’s working — you feel drowsier by the second.

But then, his chest rumbles as he hums, cautious as he asks, “Are you okay?”

Are you?

You’re about to start a new life where you desire, with whom you desire. Finding permanent residency in his presence the way he finds it in your thoughts.

A few more steps, and you can make yourself home. Not in those rooms, but in him. Because that’s what he is.

A blanket, a radiator, the comforting voice that soothes and heals. Worshipping you within the same four walls every single day.

You’re not just okay — you’re craving.

Leaving his warmth and scent, you lean back and look at him. His eyes are as big as you’re used to, awaiting an answer, genuinely curious. Your heart threatens to burst; the sting is painfully sweet.

“Yeah,” you answer, touching the purple sweater, “I promise I am.”

Because. Because that’s all you ever wanted.

It’s over. You’re going home — you are home.

You can’t remember whether it was your fingers clawing into Jungkook’s shirt or his hand brushing through your hair that kept you in the sheets twenty minutes longer than anticipated.

The plan was to snooze once and get into a routine with divided work. One prepares breakfast, the other makes the bed and cleans up before leaving the apartment.

But it seems that so far, your routine has consisted of lazy mornings. Tired hums. Quiet, hushed and slightly hoarse good mornings and entangled limbs.

You pressed between his shoulder blades as he strokes your head, planting kisses on your temple and your forehead.

“Slept well?” he asked today. Another peck in between. Then, drowsy and sighing, “Is the mattress okay, by the way? I like the firmer ones better since they’re good for your back, but I know you had a softer one, so if you need…”

“No, not at all,” you promised, warm and safe under the covers. “This is perfect.”

No… the softness wasn’t needed. Your muscles were so relaxed, you were sinking into the bed anyway. Sleeping a dent into it. At peace as his nails gently scraped over your scalp, massaging and caressing.

He could’ve lulled you into sleep like that; and his voice served as soft, white background noise. The words he used. The honey sweet tone. The past tense in what you had, and what you have now.

If you hadn’t been so lethargic, you would’ve floated through your chores. But when the clock ticked too dangerously fast and brought your working hours sickeningly close, you decided to eat out instead.

You always fool around at breakfast too much — stretching it longer than it needs to be. A café was, surprisingly, the smarter, more time-efficient option.

And a great opportunity and excuse to explore the places near you. Jungkook promised there was an amazing bakery nearby, and you trudged along, tummy rumbling, now that you weren’t in bed with him and satiated anymore.

“You’re sure you’ll be at home by the evening?”

You gather the remaining crumbs of your pastry with the pad of your thumb, waiting for Jungkook to slurp the last of his coffee. He nods, soon answering, “Mhm. I won’t be at work for long. Might come home before you do, actually.”

“Okay,” you suckle at your thumb, shoulders relaxing as you stare at the drizzle outside. The day started out grey. “And then tomorrow, I’ll be off work by the afternoon, so I should be able to bring more things over from the house.”

Tired from the morning, your eyes remain on the customers trudging in and out of the café. They shake the water drops off their umbrellas, or sigh at the prospect of stepping out into the rain again. 

Their expressions aren’t quite dispirited, but… perhaps a little dim.

You raise a side of your lips in empathy, and then continue, “And then on Saturday, I’m getting the truck to the house, for the rest of my stuff.”

“Babe,” Jungkook interrupts, pausing to smack the coffee’s taste away. His hand slides over the table, wrapping his fingers around three of yours. “Let me come with you tomorrow. You’re already doing too much.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t drag you there unless I absolutely have to. Besides,” your voice is soft when you lean forward, raising your entangled digits to your lower lip. “You’ve been busy plenty, too.”

And it’s true.

He’s been taking care of the apartment and cooking dinner these days. Organising documents with you, so you have whatever needed to change your address and whatnot. Doing small purchases for the household and vacating some of the closet to make place for your stuff.

Two weeks have passed since the press conference — and Jungkook has been a pillar of strength and sanity as much as you have been his. You communicate each night, regulating finances, dividing roles and sharing comfort.

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed or felt a relationship as symbiotic as this one… and you’re just starting out.

His thumb brushes over your fingers, still reassuring you, much as you expected, “I honestly don’t mind.”

“It’s okay,” you argue, “we still have a lot more to do. Save your energy for that. I’d still love these deco vines for the living room, remember? Let’s get them together.”

Your words are breathy, as if you’re being reborn. A breeze of refreshment — and he feels it, too. There’s something about the thought of simplicity livening up your bustling days.

Mundane tasks, like shopping for casual things together.

Groceries. Decoration. Plants.

With all the planning of switching work and homes, the two of you have been incredibly breathless. You even told him about a meeting at your new place today, a discussion about trivial matters, general know-how and preparation you need to do.

The sliver of stress is visible in your eyes — you’ll be seeing the other managers today. And you’re nervous about it, unsure what vibe the meeting might set.

But despite the stress, you’ve been as bright as Venus in the night sky. He understands. If anyone does, then him.

Because the idea of strolling through Ikea's tableware department is balm to his mind. Your laughter sounding through its hallways, half your body leaning over the shopping cart, because you surely seem like the type to do so.

His voice is as gentle as the mizzle outside when he promises, “We’ll get anything you want.”

“Really?” Your smile is radiant, cheeks glowing as you press the lightest kiss to one of his knuckles. “Sounds good to me.” 

Time passing has always been a bummer. Despite the quiet noise in the café, the clock ticks as if in a deafening volume, a reminder that you need to let this hand go soon.

Sometimes, you do worry. About the attachment, and the healthy obsession with him. And on the other side, about every moment he worships you, and every second he misses you.

How there’s discomfort in being apart, even if for mere hours. Maybe that’s why he holds you so tight at night. Or why you’re constantly itching to get home.

Perhaps there’s a lingering fear that your time separated brought, a sneaking anxiety of being dragged apart again.

Yet, instead of dwelling in improbable what-ifs, you breathe in the air of the room, direct your senses away from the clock and toward the increasing patter of rain against the window panes. 

You squeeze the fingers around you harder, delving into one last soft conversation as you ask, “You’re at lunch with Joon later, right?”

“Yeah, he promised me burgers today.”

“What for again?”

“Because I’m his favourite staff member?” Jungkook lifts your hand to your mouth when you open it, shushing you with your own fingers. “Don’t say it. I am his favourite staff member.”

“‘Kay. Understandable.”

“You know…” He shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly, but the soft drop of his gaze, fingers fiddling and toying with yours betrays him. He’s still so delicate around you. “If you want, you can join.”

“Oh. Mmmh,” you think for a moment, but then click your tongue, insisting, “it’d be weird, I think. Dunno if he’d want it.”

“I would want it.”

He always does.

Yearning. Obsession. A humane way of falling in love.

You feel like a person. No matter how odd the phrase might sound in your head, the painful truth behind it is undeniable. You feel like a person.

“Okay,” you reply, slowly reclaiming your hand, reluctantly preparing to leave. “I’ll see if I find time and energy during my lunch break.” You halt, unblinking, before you look back at him with squinting, uncertain eyes. “Totes Bag Street, was it?”

The sudden, choking laugh erupting out of Jungkook is a surprise. If his coffee cup wasn’t empty yet, he’d still be sipping, probably ruining the white, silky shirt you’re sporting today.

You actually mean it, don’t you?

His trademark laugh is high-pitched, melodious, though a little more controlled in the public space, but the flashing of his teeth and his dimples implies genuine joy.

You already know: the lighthearted banter has become a hallmark of your connection. Doesn’t get old. Heartwarming — albeit right now, very confusing to you.

So you cock an eyebrow, questioning, “What?”

“Babe,” he simply mutters, hands coming together in a mock prayer. “Shit, you’re so fucking cute.”

He lowers his head between his shoulders, torso shaking, and you pull his palms apart again to dig with another, ”Hey. What?”

“Boats Track Street. Not Totes Bag Street,” he corrects, endeared by your wide eyes. The back of two of his fingers grazes your temple, and then down your face, before playfully pinching your chin. “You’re so cute. And a dummy. I mean it.”

“You’re a dummy,” you reply, forcing your face back and out of his grip. “Besides, that’s a pretty stupid name.”

“To be fair… I agree.”

A hesitant smile spreading on your face, your gaze wanders to the clock at the opposite wall again. The beam drops a little, giving way to a small sigh.

“It’s okay. I’ll probably be busy anyway… will join you guys another time.” You shove the chair back, getting off with a fatigued groan and a hand rubbing your tummy. “And I feel a bit weird today, too. Shouldn’t have eaten before bed because I’m feeling the effects right now.”

“Ahhh, I told you. No worries. I’ll make you something light tonight. And some peppermint tea.” His hands wave you goodbye, making a begone motion. “Go for now. The longer you stay, the worse the next hours will be for me.”

“Dork. You must survive.”

You huff, eyes rolling at the dramatics, and push your bag behind your body before you lean into him. A hand on his cheek, you watch his eyes close, setting your lips onto his.

The two-second long goodbye peck remains just that before his fingers, pushing against the nape of your neck, tug you in again.

Against your lips, he mutters, “Eat, okay? Call if your stomach bothers you. Anytime. And don’t be nervous. You’ll have fun.”

And before you can answer, he kisses you again.

Once, and then twice more. Your guts somersault, even when he finally lets you go. Your lungs feel dry all of a sudden.

All you have left in you is to nod. For your wobbly legs to step away. Looking back a few more times until the door opens, the bell chiming, your transparent flower umbrella spreading over your head.

Jungkook watches as your careful steps wander away, your head never lowered like every other passerby’s. They’re hiding from the rain, but you’re staring up, observing the movement of the clouds before your focus falls on the road — and a minute later, you disappear out of his sight.

His chest and muscles relax, a quiet laughter still tumbling out as he repeats, “Totes Bag Street.”

The sky may be colourless. The people might look into the world dimly.

But despite the rain tapping against the window, no inch of you is painted in a dismal, drab grey. You’re the brilliant, gleaming sun.

The location of your new job isn’t as fancy as the area around Charmante. The building certainly isn’t made of reflecting glass throughout.

There’s wood and actual walls; not every door opens with a chip, but a key, and the luxuries are limited. Compared to your old building, this one is humble, but it still oozes wealth and success — guess that’s what a subsidiary looks like.

The meeting room for today is somewhere on the third floor. Your mind races as you fix your clothes in the elevator, throwing regular glances into the mirror to guarantee that your hair sits as perfectly as three seconds prior.

You breathe deeply, exhale through a rounded mouth. Whether it’s this meeting or something you ate, your stomach does not feel great.

As the nerves start kicking in, you think of Jungkook’s hand in yours and the everlasting smile. You use him as your safe place; close your eyes for those few seconds that the elevator floats up.

And it works. Feels like an oasis, calm and lovely.

That is, until the bell pings, forcing your eyes open. You stare up at the number, nearly stepping out until you realise that — you’re not on the third, but on the second floor. Were you supposed to halt here?

No. And there’s nobody outside, waiting.

Until, someone is.

Rushed steps move to the elevator, a nice but stressed voice urging, “Ah! Keep the doors open, I’m coming!”

Strange. Oddly familiar voice.

You can’t say why, but you already prepare a polite smile, trying not to let the ticking seconds stress you out. Rationally, you know you’re not late, but the time passing messes with your nerves.

And it seems it doesn’t get better when the figure finally rushes in, pressing the already lit number 3 before he says, “Good. Just in time.” Looks back at you, delighted as if he expected you somewhere around, and adds, “Ah! Hello!

It takes a moment. Then another.

One more until you figure out who he is, why you feel like hurling and how maybe, just maybe, he might be heading to the same room as you — as another new manager of Novaura.

You blow a raspberry at the boxes in your backseat. 

Deciding to at least take your favourite box up with you, you leave the rest here for now; you don’t want to bug Jungkook yet. You can heave it all upstairs on the weekend, in peace.

It’s only moderately heavy — but with both your hands busy, the task is a hassle. You secure it under your arm as you close the door of your vehicle with your hip, clutching the phone previously tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

You straighten your head, reflexively looking up to Jungkook’s apartment window. To your apartment window. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue just yet.

Somehow managing to open the entrance door, you sigh into the phone, giving Taehyung a relieved, “I’m finally back home.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung voices, and you imagine his full lips in a line, tiny nods serious, “how’s it feel? Knowing that this is where you’re gonna be for the foreseeable future?”

“It feels… quiet.”

“What, he bore you to death like that?”

You giggle, taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase; though slightly irritated by the slowly and constantly slipping box. You heave it back up.

“Absolutely. You’ve no idea, really.”

Taehyung laughs, but your joke doesn’t stick for long. You feel bad immediately — even in a playful tone, your heart knows nothing for Jungkook but praise. You guess that’s how kindness affects people.

And your brain stays mean, prolonging your pout — because it conjures pictures of a crooked smile, wrinkles around tender eyes, a tilted head as shoulders rise when the laughter reaches its peak…

A sting jabs your chest.

The longing is unbearable, and you’re barely another level from the apartment. He’s waiting for you on the other side of that flat’s door, and you know his pupils will widen in his dark brown eyes the moment they fall on you.

“No, that feels horrible to say,” you correct, shaking your head. You pause in the middle of the staircase for a moment, gaze fixated on a dirty spot before you shake your head once more. “You know Jungkook. If he’s not joy personified, then I don’t know.”

And it’s true — despite his own demons, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone spread this much comfort.

“I just meant that my mind’s been quiet. And a lot more peaceful. Not a hundred worries whirling around anymore,” you tell him, your steps upward slower now.

“Just ninety-nine, huh?”

You smile. “Maybe. But he’s not one of them.”

Dull background noise interrupts your thoughts; Taehyung doesn’t respond to you, but reprimands Yoongi in a distant mumble. He’s been doing it since he called, covering his phone to argue with his friend.

Apparently, Yoongi had been with him for hours before you picked up Taehyung’s call; they’ve been settling the rest of the arrangements, scurrying through paperwork. The apartment you considered is entirely their adventure now, but you aided in anything they needed.

Which basically just meant clearing things with the landlord and then answering his new tenant’s million questions. 

As in — how were you thinking of decorating it? Why were you going to take it? Did you calculate monthly costs including rent, water and gas? You didn’t mind, because Yoongi might be one of the most polite people you have ever met.

But it seems he’s reluctant to return to his dorm’s lonely walls, too.

Because Taehyung values alone-time, and Yoongi hasn’t granted it for hours. You feel kinda bad for Yoongi. And while the younger man attempts his hardest to maintain the gentle tone, you hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“I’ll drive you home after this, ‘kay?” he tells Yoongi; you snicker at the groan that returns. “You got this, bro.” Attention back to you, a murmur of your name. “Anyway. Everything should be good now.”

“I’m glad. That was… quite something.”

A euphemism, really. The handful of visits weren’t fun; not to mention the stuff you had to get over with for your own move. And then all those calls. You needed minutes upon minutes of preparation for each of them. One hell of a businesswoman, you are.

“No, say it as it is. ‘Cause it knocked me the fuck out. You guys really had to drag me into this.”

You feel guilty about making Taehyung your spokesman here; but as an already residing individual of the building, he was a great support in this matter. 

“We— love you,” you tell him, inhaling deeply between your words. You rub the dirt off your soles on the welcoming mat and hold the box tight, not opening the door yet. “Tell your forehead to feel kissed.”

“Nah. You’re gonna upset Eun.”

“Why? Eun and I are more in love then the two of you might ever be. She’ll choose my side.”

“Ha. Fair. Whatever.” His voice doesn’t carry an ounce of solemnity. Once again, you imagine him pulling a face, waving your statement off. “Enjoy your life. Your voice has been echo-y forever. Also, don’t forget to talk to Jungkook about what we discussed.”

Ah… yeah. There’s more than just one thing you need to clear, actually.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” you confirm, though arguing, “I’m surprised you haven’t done it yet.”

“You do it. I know he’ll like hearing it from you better.” He pauses to answer his friend; you don’t even know what he said. “Okay. I’ll go grappling with Yoongi then.”

“Good luck.”

“Buy me sushi.”

One last laugh before you cut the call.

The clicking sound of your keys turning in the lock is music to your ears and balm to your feet. You skip the threshold with a relieved release of air; the apartment smells like diffusers, so warm compared to the declining temperatures outside.

You don’t hear a movement until you get to your knees, seating the box next to the shoe cabinet. As you start working on your jacket, you register a shuffle from the living room, but no voice — Jungkook said he’d be home before you. Perhaps he’s painting; or gaming.

A short text message during lunch assured him he could start dinner without you; deep down, however, you understood he wouldn’t listen anyway. And the obvious lack of aromatic scents wafting from the living room proves it.

You don’t enjoy eating alone — and he knows.

Clearing your throat, you announce your arrival, bent as you take your shoes off and rub your aching heels for a moment. You wish you could float. Offer them reprieve.

Stumbling in the anteroom, you wait for a greeting, but it seems he didn’t hear or notice you. You lick your lips, standing straight, and then speak into the hallway—

“I swear I don’t have a foot fetish,” a short pause — nothing, “but can you massage my feet again today?” You wait. Not a word comes back. So you joke, “Actually, just massage my whole body? I don’t mind. Need some hands-on relaxation.”

Subjectively, you think you’re hilarious. You giggle on your way to the living room, cheerful despite the jam-packed day — but your laughter ebbs down soon. Because he’s standing in the middle of the room, lips pressed into a tiny smile, head lowered, hands in his pockets.

And right in front of him, a timid woman in a coat. Blinking at you.

Your eyes dodge her gaze immediately. It’s an impolite reflex, heart pounding as you watch Jungkook’s hand lift to his forehead, hiding behind his bangs as he rubs. When he looks at you again, there’s an equal amount of worry and amusement in his expression.

“Shit,” you mumble, another mishap, and you continue cursing internally. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And then, “I’m sorry.”

She looks like him. Same sweet aura, short hair, big eyes.

Her right digits are wrapped around the fingers of her other hand, mouth shut tight, though smiling. She knows less what to say than you, and the moment stretches and stretches and does not end and—

“Hi,” you finally murmur, bowing slightly before you cringe. Too much? Not enough? You clear your throat again, and then introduce yourself quietly. “You must be Mrs. Jeon. I… I didn’t know you’d be here or I would’ve come earlier! I’m very sorry.”

Are you rambling?

How horrid. You’d feel so uncomfortable if you were her.

Only, she barely showcases any sign of displeasure or irritation. Despite striking you as an introvert, her movements soon prove confidence — the type to know what she’s saying or doing, but in a humble and gentle way.

She unfolds her fingers and lets them dangle, soon moving up to clutch the strap of her bag. Looking between Jungkook and you once, she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, as if to promise that there’s no reason for any tension.

You sigh when she speaks, “Oh, it’s alright. I didn’t stay long and I need to go in a minute anyway.”

“Oh?”

“I was going to leave ages ago, but,” she points to her son with rolling eyes, and the man in question shrugs in faux guilt before she speaks on, “that one wanted me to see you for at least a second. I wanted to meet you properly… prepare dinner and all, but. It’s still nice to meet you.”

Her eyes are kind, taking you in; if you could guess, you’d say she’s… excited. Urging to finally speak to her son’s girlfriend.

She moves a teeny tiny bit, as if opting to offer her palm to you, or to— maybe hug you? But maybe she realises the timing, or sees your terrified expression, because she holds back for now politely.

“I see. It’s wonderful to meet you, too.” Incredible how you spoke about initiatives just this morning, rambling in the office until someone had to interrupt you for their own turn. Now, you can’t get a word out. “But, I… I am still sorry I barged in so rudely.”

She grimaces, moving closer to you with a waving motion, “You didn’t barge into your own apartment. It’s all good.”

Jungkook doesn’t interrupt much; doesn’t interfere with his own jests and statements. They mirror each other so much, though. In the way they smile, and in the way they talk.

Even the manner in which she places her hand on your arm, reassuring you, delivers the same warmth. You tense for a moment, not quite expecting the touch; but it’s motherly. Soft. 

A new emotion floods your heart, but you can’t decode it. Too many thoughts streaming in, brain working overtime to come up with a full sentence without stuttering, without those dumb hesitation markers that your studies taught you to avoid.

And maybe you’ve succeeded — only, the clump in your throat, accompanied by a strange twist in your stomach builds a barrier now.

Her touch feels… good.

“Do you… would you like to sit?” you ask, voice softer by an infinite amount. “I have a variety of tea here, and you could choose one. If you…”

You want to talk. About whatever. Not the slip occurring a couple minutes ago; maybe you just finally want to know who made Jungkook the man he is today. It wasn’t necessarily his father, was he?

Somewhere, this incessant, constant comfort derived from. But.

“I’d like nothing more than that,” she admits, “but I have massage therapy in a bit, and should get going. An adult’s back.” You laugh, and she gestures towards you with an open palm. “Oh, don’t you work in an office? Take care of yourself, too.”

“Not just an office, Mom,” Jungkook interrupts, inching closer until next to you and rubbing your back, proud, “she’s a manager. She walks around a lot, so the problem are,” he nods toward your feet, “these.”

True. Just today alone, your heels made it feel like you ran a marathon. Learning about each corner and wandering around that building drained you.

“Ah… I thought so,” she says.

You blink in faint confusion until you realise. Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, brief but telling, and his mother smiles in awkward amusement. Hell.

Your blood shoots back into your face, warming it thoroughly, and just before you can opt for another apology, she says, “You have him to take care of you. Make him spoil you! You do, don’t you?”

Her voice changes the moment she faces her son, a little strict but all in good fun; her eyes squint and he exclaims, “I do!” the moment you defend, “Oh, he does! He definitely does.”

She seems to like this. There’s a sparkle in her eyes, similar to the one you already know; perhaps she’s just as endeared as mothers–usually?–get, realising their children are happy and settling.

“We take care of each other,” you tell her then, and she responds with a content nod.

“Good. It’d be a shame if not. Taught him how to treat people.”

“He knows for sure, ma’am. I don’t think you’ll ever need to worry about that.”

You’re careful with your gestures, your smiles, your movements. Even though she’s made clear as day that she’s not to fear, you still shift your entire focus on the delivery of your words.

If you weren’t, you’d be more lax. Looking through the room, exchanging glances with Jungkook. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d notice that he’s playing with the ends of your hair.

And you’d see the way he looks at you.

With those barely blinking, calm eyes. An ocean of fondness in them, a light, lost smile around his face. As though you’re soothing him, pumping oxygen into his lungs.

You don’t see any of it; but his mother does. And you register the drift of her pupils, the minimal upward movement in her eyebrows as she shoots a glance at him — then back at you.

But when you follow her gaze to him, he’s already snapped out of it, clearing his throat.

“You should go before you’re late,” Jungkook reminds her, removing his hand from your hair, “I’ll go spoil her as you taught me, Mama.”

“You better. Pressure’s on.”

He smirks, lopsided as he slings an arm around her shoulder. She’s so much smaller than him. “Tell Dad Hi from me.”

A slight drop of his lips. He doesn’t look at her but the ground. Tell-tale signs of a distant ache, hidden behind an attempt to find a cure.

The sting is palpable, right in the middle of your heart, but it dissipates bit by bit as he smiles at you again. Genuine once more, back to where he was only five seconds ago.

You nod at her, one last, non-verbal confirmation that you feel cosy here. There’s something inarguably sweet in her instant care. How she instantly roots for your happiness. How she’s pouring all her empathy into you with a single look.

A stare that usually understands someone else’s pain; and then hopes for eternal peace for them.

She doesn’t even know you — does she? You wonder if he ever did speak about you.

“Okay then. Tell me if you need anything,” she says it to Jungkook, but promptly turns to you, promising you, “you can, too. Of course.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

Purse lifted further up her shoulder, she starts a move toward the exit, already starting to wave you goodbye before she suddenly stops. Looks at you, and blurts, “Oh, and— has he uhhh…?”

She starts the sentence with hesitation, ending it with uncertainty and a look over her shoulder. You follow her eyes, barely catching him throwing a warning sign. His eyes are ripped open, head delivering tiny shakes, but he returns to normal the moment he catches you staring.

Okay. Something happened there that you’re not part of.

But that you’re supposed to be part of? You don’t know.

You’re curious, though. Already aware of what you’ll be pestering him with tonight.

She shuts up, letting out a short, tiny breath. Her small, sweet fingers curl just once before she releases them again, and she flattens her coat, nodding.

“I’ll leave you two alone then,” she declares.

“You should stay for dinner next time, though!” you offer.

“Of course. I’m eating with my husband after the appointment, so he’ll probably already be waiting, but. Next time for sure. And you should come, too, someday.”

Right. 

It doesn’t stop. It’s permanently odd hearing someone talking about that man other than Jungkook. Shouldn’t be, because she’s the closest and dearest individual to him, sharing a home and marital bed. But…

It’s like people don’t quite feel real from stories until one actually faces them. His mom’s subtle, harmless words about her husband make him feel realer, and Jungkook’s issues with them.

But most of all you wonder — why has he never visited here? You wish he had. You wish he would sometimes. But she didn’t even suggest bringing him with her next time. Or how his father would be delighted about a visit, too.

It doesn’t seem to faze Jungkook. Or maybe it does, but he doesn’t let it show. Or — worse. Has he gotten used to it? His father’s absence, or the term that defines their relationship.

Because he nods, a soft smile as a son usually throws at his mother. Casual but loving. He says, “Won’t keep you here then.”

Jungkook kisses her head at the door, and she stuffs her hands in her coat, politely bidding you goodbye.

You watch as she approaches the staircase, still waving when she turns around one more time. You sigh in relief — she was friendly. No panic. You didn’t fuck up entirely.

And despite the last moments of gloom that the mention of her husband evoked, you hear Jungkook’s chuckle resonate once the door finally closes. His steps move toward the living room, his shoulders shaking.

You nearly slide down the closed door as you watch him, head falling back before he falls into a wholehearted laugh. You imagine deep, multiple crinkles around his eyes, mouth wide in joy.

Eyebrows kissing, you follow him inside, nearly bumping against him when you realise he’s standing in the middle of the room, body still shaking from the chortle. He’s facing the ground, and you hit his arm from the back.

“Shut up,” you only order, opting to walk away.

But he turns to you, a hand around your elbow; he can barely breathe when he assures, “Okay. Okay, I’ll stop. Sorry, I just—” He sniffles as you look at him, sulking and trying his gloating not to make you laugh, too. “What were you doing?”

“That’s not funny!”

“I’m not trying to be funny! I’m serious.”

Which he clearly isn’t. The smile is too infuriatingly wide, and the tug at your arm too affectionate. He’s amused and you hate–love?–that you are, too. You keep the act of agitation intact for another moment.

But pieces of you break, your heart a melting mess when you watch his eyes nearly close, nose scrunched up. His shoulders rise — they always do whenever his laughter increases, bunny teeth protruding and the mole under his mouth a magnet to your lips.

And when he raises his hands to your face, cradling it, and speaks, you lose it entirely.

“What were you even saying, munchkin, huh? You’re such a little idiot, you know?” he playfully scolds, squishing your cheeks; peppering kisses on your skin and your lips; barely allowing you a moment to talk.

“And you’re—” you say between tiny kisses, distracted by the childlike, muah-ish sound effects that accompany his pecks, “so mean.”

“And you are the sweetest thing to exist.” The lovingly aggressive touch vanishes from your cheek to be replaced by sudden pinches; your protests are high-pitched, and unfortunately, enhance his statement. “Okay, okay. Come on.”

He flicks your chin as if to provoke you further, but dodges all your teeny tiny rage to come when he moves past your body. Warning abandoned, his fingers tweak your ass as he targets the kitchen, and you yelp, instantly slapping a hand over your butt.

“Freshen up and let’s get to dinner. And hurry. Gotta give you hands-on relaxation later.”

“You’re the worst, I mean it.”

But his evil snicker isn’t.

He might make your hackles rise, and test your patience the way he used to so long ago. Back when you’d seek him out in a miniscule dorm room, eyebrows furrowed just to see him a bit longer after class.

You’re always baffled how your foundation still stands; after all the shattering and agony and stings that fractured your heart. Only now, you’ll be surrounded by the bicker every hour of the day.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Living through an odd day at work, driving around town and embarrassing yourself in front of your boyfriend’s mother makes one dizzyingly hungry, you realised. Stress didn’t let you eat properly today.

Even now, there’s something you need to reveal to him — but the moment you sit down to eat and crack the first joke, you don’t have the heart to. And then, combined with the rush still lingering from the awkward, wholesome interaction before, and the shift in mood, you soon do the worst:

Forget about the issue.

Your eyes meet the bottom of your bowl sooner than preferred, your stomach still seemingly as empty as before. Whatever magic Jungkook seasoned the dish with, you want him to sprinkle it on your tastebuds every day.

Jungkook is sipping on his water when you suddenly look up and place a hand on his bicep, shaking him for attention. A guilty Oh slips out of you as you watch droplets roll down his chin, and he tries not to choke as he puts the glass back on the table.

“Babe—”

“I’m sorry!” you exclaim, thumb wiping at the fluid dampening his chin. “Just. Can we have more? That helped with that sickness all day, and… I’m still hungry.”

Along with the lack of appetite, you assumed the stress and the constant overworking dragged the feeling of illness and stomach ache throughout the day, too. Jungkook keeps warning you about burnouts — doing a thousand things at once, you’ve been thoroughly burdened.

But honestly. Maybe it was just hunger for a real meal.

“Oh? I'm so glad it helped then! And sure,” he responds. “Go ahead, there’s enough for like four people.”

You blink. “And you?” He shakes his head, patting his full tummy, attempting another try at drinking. You argue, “I’m not eating alone, though!”

“Angel, I’ve had like two portions. I'll be full until next dinner.”

“Lame!” You shift on the couch, half of your ass holding you onto it, “And if we found ways to burn it off?”

“…Ah?”

“I mean… You like working out. So just work me out.”

“Shut up. You’re impossible.”

You’ve long given up — you’re not an ass. You would never force him to eat or not to eat, unless he hasn’t in hours. But you also need a foolproof way of amusing him.

Which, despite his very unimpressed expression, you know you did. His lips still twitch.

Sombre, his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he shakes his head. You pat his strong thighs, standing from the couch with a hungry groan.

“Fine. I’ll go heat up some for myself then,” you announce, but Jungkook’s shrill alarm bells ring immediately, his body jumping off his seat.

“Not the microwave.”

“Jungkook—”

“Not! The microwave. Just toss it in the pan and heat it up there.”

You tiptoe to the kitchen just a little faster, playful as he hurries after you. You spend your seconds explaining why the microwave won’t explode; how tickling you won’t change anything; how you’ll break something if he doesn’t stop.

But most of all, you spend your seconds allowing him to chase away all sorrows you carried for so goddamn long.

Shut up. You’re impossible.

His prior agitation truly wasn’t one at all.

Because despite your obvious jests, the calories lost on the couch rob you of all sanity at last. A hand in your hair, a body pushing yours down, free fingers roaming your sides and your legs, and lips never separating from yours.

He doesn’t strip you off a single piece of clothing. Doesn’t dig a hand underneath your shirt, focused on how your mouth feels, how his name rolling off your tongue sounds.

The eyes he stares into are vivid and bright, and he uses up all his power to not let them kill him. Your body wraps around his like the most tender of all embraces; he doesn’t need you bare for it, no matter how blank the thought leaves his mind.

Only needs the proximity. The tongue touching his, the nails testing his shirt’s quality.

You miss most of the movie that he suggested, eating each other up, a fist around the hem of his shirt until he nearly falls off the couch and wakes you from your dream. You giggle and joke, spending the second half of the film yawning, sipping the peppermint tea. 

Jungkook uses the quiet time for whispered conversations; massages your feet as you pleaded for, repeatedly asking for your comfort.

The moments aren’t anything big, in theory. You’re not in a fantasy novel, not throwing a ring into a volcano. You’re mortal and here, surrounded by humane domesticity and drowning in casual conversations.

Yet — even though you’re not living through spectacular adventures, you’re breathing through special moments nevertheless. Because not a single second spent with him feels mundane, after all.

Sometime as the ending nears, you let your legs fall, pulled close to Jungkook by your hip. You don’t quite understand when or how he does it, but miraculously, you land half on his lap, ass barely on the couch and cheek pressed to his temple.

Jungkook pushes a hand against your thigh, heaving you up further and moving you until you’re comfortable. There’s a light groan, followed by a feathery kiss to your jaw; and you wrap an arm around his shoulder to hold on, shifting even closer.

Your touchy warmth isn’t new to Jungkook; but it seems that the changes in your lives made your inhibitions disperse. Like you broke the bars trapping you so far.

Because the increasing clinginess feels carefree; you don’t overthink your movements tonight. Even before, there was lightness in your interactions; how you’d breathe in his presence, compared to when the world intruded.

The difference was still never quite veiled.

He saw it when he called from so far away all those weeks ago, staring at the distress in your face through a device — versus when he returned to your world.

Or just recently, when you stood on that tiny stage, talking down to reporters — as opposed to when you whispered for him to get you home.

Your shoulders always dropped in relief the moment you stood in his soothing radius. And yet—

There was quiet discomfort in your eyes. And today — today he doesn’t see that usual steam frying your brain. Your smile isn’t burdened; you’re weightless, like you’re breathing.

Overwhelmed and endeared, Jungkook gulps. The pricking needle rods his heart, simultaneously flicking the wounds. He could cry.

He watches you busy your fingers with his shirt, unable to put his thoughts into a coherent string of sentences; so he only says, “You’re so cosy today.”

“Hm? I’m always cosy.”

“Mmmh… a bit more tonight.”

Your forefinger traces the outline of his pecs over his shirt, and you nod with a hum before you declare, “That’s because I’m trying to establish a healthy balance.”

“A healthy balance? How so?”

“I need to be nice, because you’re not.”

His eyes follow your finger’s slow movements, so his voice is soft, barely concerned. But his brain can’t quite compute as he asks, “I’m not nice?”

“You’ve always been mean, actually.”

He laughs. Taps your thigh rhythmically, close to your butt. “How am I mean to you?”

“Like,” you press your palm flat in the middle of his chest, looking at him. There’s a crease between your eyebrows, the slightest hint of a pout on your lips. “You ass could’ve answered when I came home. You didn’t say anything! Or did you really not hear me?”

Oh.

Ogling into your anticipating, subtly piqued eyes, he suppresses a laugh. His lips form a thin line, but the glow in his dark eyes betrays him. Your hand lifts a little, ready to spank his pecs, but you close the gap again as you grant him another chance.

“Hey, if you tell me you didn’t hear, I’ll let it slide.”

You’re well aware Jungkook graduated as the best of his year in Teasing You, and holds the degree proudly to your face every day — but you also know he’s honest.

So you’re not surprised when he admits, eyes mischievous, “I heard you.” Your slow blinking, the scolding gaze are hilarious to him; he looks unspeakably pleased. “I wanted to see what you’d do.”

Now you do slap his tits.

“And you didn’t expect me to say that shit?!” you reprimand. He wraps his arms around you, his laughter a deep, genuine emergence from his chest. “I’m an idiot, in case you didn’t know.”

“Of course. I do know,” he suddenly deadpans. Wow. That couldn’t have come any more naturally. “I know you well, baby.”

“And yet…”

He waves your concerns off, hand soon returning to your back to pull you closer. “She’s chill. I knew you were gonna amuse her right away.”

“Oh god. You planned this… Wait. You didn’t shush her when you heard the door open, right?”

He doesn’t answer. Just keeps looking at you. And then… is he…

Is he zoning out?

“Jungkook,” you call again.

“Hm?” He stares at you beguiled, as if utterly distracted by whatever. “Sorry. Can’t hear you—”

“You so can. We’re alone and I’m speaking loud and cl—”

“Nah, you’re just so pretty. I can barely focus.”

“I hate you.”

But you don’t.

He doesn’t need to spell his intentions out for you to understand. He might be testing your patience, but there’s a hidden meaning in his words that he can’t hide as well as he intends to after all.

Because you know he just wanted you to be yourself instead of playing a different role; just like he has never pretended in front of your parents. He knows you’d try extra hard for him — but he needed you to come in and receive affection as the person that you already are.

Guess whatever you blurted was the first impression he wanted to leave of you.

“So,” you start after a moment, back to tapping his chest, “do you think I did amuse her?”

“Oh, she loved it.” Of course she did. You could see the Jeon-esque endearment in her eyes the moment you stepped into the living room. Humbles you. “She’s gonna adore you, too.”

“Ah. Like you adore me.”

Jungkook’s response arrives in the form of a long, semi-damp kiss, delivered to the corner of your mouth. You grimace, torso moving backwards at his gentle force. He adds another Mmmhhh to the gesture until you’re nearly falling off his lap, pushing him away again with a giggly, “Stop!”

He leans back with a content sigh, eliminating more of the distance between you until his head almost rests against your chest. But when you speak again, he looks up into your face.

“Hey. Your mom was saying something as she was leaving. What was it again?”

“Uhh…”

His pupils roll up in thought, one shoulder already rising to shrug, but then it drops again before he voices, “Oh… Yeah…” A break in thought; then, “I figured you’d be busy with everything going on, so I was being reluctant about asking. Didn’t wanna put you in a difficult position.”

You wait. He speaks on, “But my cousin’s getting married next month, and I’m invited.”

There’s a beat of a pause, and you anticipate, already sensing a presentiment before he spits it out—

“And you are, too.”

Hold on.

Weddings. More often than not, weddings happen in big places, filled with a great number of guests. Of friends. And… of family members.

If what he’s suggesting isn’t a hallucination, it means that’d be how you’d step into the battlefield. Attempting your best to be yourself, to charm his family with whatever strategy.

Is he thinking of the same thing?

Because you’re speechless.

You close the mouth you only now notice stood agape, trying not to show the bubbling exhilaration too blatantly. That’d be your first joyful event together.

Oh god.

You might squeal; faint of nervousness. If you could, you’d press your fists to your lips and stomp your feet and twirl your hair and—

“Wait… You want me to go to a wedding with you?” you finally ask instead, keeping your voice in a normal pitch.

“Only if you feel like it.”

“And… and you?” you inquire, wide eyes looking into his wider ones. He’s nervous, too. “Do you want me to?”

“I… yeah. I do. I really, really don’t want to go without you, actually.”

Shit.

“Where is the wedding?”

“Yeah, see, that’s why I was afraid to ask. You’re so busy and your job’s so new. But we’d—” He hesitates, as if scared of rejection. Clicks his tongue, evaluating his words. “The thing is that we’d have to drive all the way down. It’s back at home.”

You need a moment. Back at home; you’re home. Meaning, it’s not here.

Meaning, it’s in his hometown. Meaning, you wouldn’t just meet his family, but walk through a place of memories and deeply rooted, nostalgic affection, too.

Which is… such a huge fucking thing.

Especially for a girlfriend.

Eun always says it doesn’t do bringing a girlfriend or boyfriend to big events such as birthday parties or weddings. It’s disadvantageous for the pictures, she claims. Who knows how the future might play out?

But Jungkook isn’t concerned with these issues. Jungkook wants you all the way down there, lurking on streets with him that he grew up on; tripped on; played on.

These are places with core remembrances. So easily expanded when more are added to them in later years; and so easily shattered when hearts break.

But a heart breaking is not an option, is it? Not anymore.

“You’re… taking me to your hometown?” you ask. You immediately realise the choice of words, and don’t hesitate as you add, “I mean. You’d be taking me home. You’d like to—”

“Is that—” he interrupts, suddenly unsure, “bad? Did it change your mind? You don’t have to, I promise.”

“No. I actually might cry.”

His expression momentarily softens, a big, clear Awwwh written in it. Gentle fingers brush your hair back, observing the vulnerability in your eyes. But shit, you mean it.

You could cry.

Because you talked about this so long ago.

Back when he was miles away, yet so deeply settled in your heart. Sneaking his way into your head, eating you up inside. When he broke off a piece of you and took it with him as he left, no relief for weeks on end.

And when he came back, he promised he’d take you with him one day.

Is that it? Is that now?

“Fuck,” you curse under a quiet laugh, confused by the burning in your eyes.

Jungkook’s hand brushes over your cheek, eyebrows slightly cocked. He might not have expected you to react with such… emotion. You hadn’t either.

“Hey,” his voice soothes, “don’t cry. It’ll be good. And if it’s not, or if you don’t want to, we can just stay here and never go again.”

You’re gonna sob. How did you deserve him?

Of course you want to go. Of course you’d make the best of it. No fibre in you wants to reject his offer.

In fact, you’re already daydreaming. Because…

How’s it gonna be? Will you see more stars there? Will his family like you? His Dad like you? And what are weddings with boyfriends like? Will you be seeing him in every flower in the hall, in every kiss the couple shares?

“No,” you say, “I’ll go. I will go because you’re too obsessed with me to leave without me.”

Jungkook chuckles immediately, but not speaking before rolling his eyes, “And you’re a brat.”

You wait a moment, smiling in unison with him, and then ask, “Honestly, I… I’d love to. Can I just still ask…” You’re curious; but you also want to keep feeling that warmth. More tranquillity from his words. “Why would you not go without me?”

He doesn’t stall.

“Because it’s such a big event, and… so far away. I don’t want to leave you here. And the thought of being at the most lovey-dovey place without my favourite person sucks.”

You’ll freaking screech.

“Jungkook!”

Half of the name is muffled when your lips drop to the crook of his neck, back uncomfortably arching and face heating up. Your ass threatens to fall back on the couch, legs still over his, and he hugs you close as he snickers again.

He shakes your body gently, trying to lift your face. Calling your name when your breath tickles his skin, asking, “Are we embarrassed?”

“No.”

But when you look at him again, your smile is wide enough to freeze your muscles in place. He shakes his head, flooded with aching joy, and makes sure again, “So you want to go, yeah? Don’t need time to think or something? It’s okay if you do.”

“As if. I really wanna go. I’m gonna make this,” you touch his collarbones, then your own, “work.”

He smiles. Grants you a short break to organise your thoughts. And while what you query next shouldn’t come as a surprise, it does introduce a delighted shift in mood.

“What am I gonna wear?”

Jungkook puffs out a breath.

You don’t notice; your focus drifts, directed to the carpet. You mentally scurry your closet, quietly trying to recall appropriate attire for weddings. Which is odd, because you should have the entire catalogue of your and every other place cemented in your mind.

“What do I wear?” you repeat, back to looking at him, barely allowing him a moment to think. “And don’t say anything would look good on me. Serious answers only.”

“You know a question like this prompts nothing but unserious answers from m—”

“Kook—”

“Okay. I mean, you have such pretty dresses. Lemme just choose one and we’re supplied.”

It’s an easy idea; fair enough. Only, you’re barely listening, earning a side-eye from Jungkook when you say, “I should buy a new one.”

Which still doesn’t deter him, though. “Cool. I’ll go with you then.”

“Or will I seem overdressed?”

“It’s a wedding, baby. Overdress like hell.”

“And… if I’m underdressed?”

“You’re still gonna be the hottest around!” he exclaims, and you flinch just a little. He’s not truly agitated, but there’s playful frustration in his voice, a grin around his lips. “Don’t worry about the dress, okay? It won’t stay on you anyway.”

Jungkook expects you to react with similar scolding, using it to hide how timidly flattered you actually are. But you’re too fired up, restless in his grip as your voice grows shriller, “I’m so. Fuck, I’m so excited!”

“I am, too. But…”

His palm moves up and down your back, one eye squinting shut as you start swaying a bit, pumped with serotonin. Like a thrilled child. You’re so…

He lowers his gaze; you might just see the heart eyes otherwise.

“Okay, hey,” he tries again, calming you as his fingers grasp your wrist. “Should we go to bed for now, though?”

You wait with your answer, relaxing your body. Stopping your elevated sounds, you draw the deepest breath in history, and then breathe out a whispery, “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Good. Oh.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t actually been to the bedroom yet, right?”

“Oh…”

True. Since you came home, you only conversed with his mother, then rushed to take a shower as she left, still filled with prickling and nervous emotions. And then you hurried back to him, starving, eating, watching TV.

And now you’re here.

Was something different about the bedroom, though? You don’t think so.

“You’re right,” you tell him, “no, not really. Just to shower. Why?”

“Just…”

“…What?”

“Okay. Hold onto me.”

“Hold ont— oh, f—”

You gasp for air when two strong arms replace his soft hands, settling under your kneepits and around your back. He shifts dangerously on the couch, moving forward before he starts to lift with a self-motivating grunt.

“And— off we go.”

You sling your arms around his neck immediately, hiding, letting out a panicked, ”Be careful, I’m sli—”

“All good. Relax.” His arms wrap more properly around your limbs, and you dare to listen. Allowing your legs to dangle, you let him carry you calmly, breathing air through O-shaped lips. “Good girl. I won't just let you fall.”

“You better not.”

“No. Just wait.”

He looks at you with a comical grin, throwing a kiss into the air and down to you. Using your feet to kick the door open, he halts at the threshold; for a second, he looks… up.

And just when he finally enters the room, you quietly follow his gaze. The question as to what to wait for gets stuck in your throat when you realise what it is he needed you to see.

Holy shit.

the chapter isn't over yet – much to go!! tumblr just doesn't allow more than 1k blocks/paragraphs. apologies for the scrolling, but i promise it's worth it :'D here's the rest! <3

Stress Relief

Summary: Taehyung gives you an offer you can't refuse

Pairing: Taehyung/Reader

Word Count: 2k

Rating: M/18+

Tags: Fingering, Fuck buddies

Author Note: This is a fic to get this series established. There is a small amount of smut. More info at the bottom

You could faintly hear water running in the background as you come back to your senses. You were still spread out on the bed, legs splayed open, fingers still clutching the fabric of your bed sheets below you, and chest heaving from orgasm number four.

Taehyung (Yes that Taehyung) usually fucked you good.

But today he was an absolute animal.

You let out a small whine at the soreness between your legs as you rolled on your side to fish for your sweater that had been taken off, well more like ripped off by Tae when he arrived at your apartment.

You didn't bother putting on pants because you knew how this went.

How it had gone for the last eight months.

He would text you asking if he could come over. You would reply, usually saying yes unless you were busy. He would pull up in an unmarked car to your apartment. Have mind-blowing sex with you then get you cleaned up and leave.

You had met nine months prior and both were immediately sexually attracted to each other. After a long discussion about what you both wanted you started to become fuck buddies.

Tae didn't want the drama of a relationship but still wanted to get laid and you had just gotten out of a relationship at the time and had no desire to jump back in.

It was perfect.

You sat up on the bed and frowned at the closed door.

He was usually back from the bathroom by now with a damp washcloth.

You slowly got out of bed and hobbled to the bathroom where you saw him on his knees getting a bath ready for you.

You cocked an eyebrow in confusion

He never stayed longer than he had to, and sure as hell never did this.

He must have felt you staring because he turned around and shot you a boxy grin, adorned back in his sweatpants and oversized hoodie

“Hey, uh what's all this?” You asked trying to keep the suspicion out of your voice.

“I-shit you hate it don't you?” He said boxy smile falling off his face.

“No! Not at all. I just. We don't do this? Ever? I'm just confused.” You admit as you lean against the counter and he turns off the water.

The bath does look heavenly with steam rising from it and the smell of lavender bubble bath in the air.

“Well I feel like I owe it to you, I was pretty rough this time.” He says with a cocky grin eyeing the bite marks he had left all over your thighs, which were starting to turn a beautiful shade of dark red.

“Tae it was fine, I would have said the safe word. But thank you.” You say as you remove your sweater and slowly climb into the bath.

He watched as you settled in.

You closed your eyes, fully expecting him to leave like he always did, but instead he closed the lid of the toilet and sat on it watching you.

“Tae…everything okay?” You ask watching how nervous he suddenly looks.

“Yeah, I…are you okay?” He responds, playing with his long fingers and not looking at you.

“Yeah, I said I was fine.” You say and a light blush covers his cheeks.

“Okay, Taehyung.” You say, which has his eyebrows shoot up. You never call him by his full name.

“What's going on? I don't want to sound rude, this is all very nice but you never do this. You clean me up and go. I'm not complaining at all! It's not a bad thing. I'm just..well… still confused.” You admit staring at him as his gaze finally catches yours.

“I want to talk to you about something.” He says slowly, carefully.

You stare him down and wait for him to speak. He looks so uncomfortable and nervous, picking at his fingers.

“Go ahead Tae. The floor's all yours.” You say softly waving your hand.

“I, well I know I've liked this arrangement we have and I know you do too. It works. And I think it's good for both of us. And god you are the perfect fuck buddy like I could not have asked for better, honestly.” He rambles.

“Tae. If you want to stop this arrangement you could have just said. You didn't need to butter me up with a hot bath or anything. We agreed to be open with each other.” You say.

“No! Oh god, I'm making this worse! I want…the opposite actually.” He says running his hands through his fluffy brown hair.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

The room is thick with tension and steam from the warm bath. Even though he has seen you naked many times you still feel slightly vulnerable as you sit there and try not to let your mind run wild.

“Tae please, whatever it is just tell me.” You plead as he slides off the toilet and sits on the floor right across from you.

“I know what I want to say I just don't want it to offend you that's all.” He admits.

You let out a little laugh.

“Like twenty minutes ago you called me your little whore and spanked me raw. I don't think I'll be offended.” You say with a soft laugh as you see his features soften a bit.

“I-yeah you're right. Okay. So as I said I love fucking you. I love having someone I can text who can get rid of my stress. Again, you are the perfect fuck buddy. Really I couldn't have asked for better.” He starts, staring at the floor, once again not making eye contact.

Which has you nervous.

You feel like you are on the edge of a very tall cliff, you know something is coming but you don't know what.

“I-Well. The guys know about you. Not who you are or anything! Just that I have…someone on the side. They know about our…arrangement.” Tae says pausing again to gauge your reaction.

You weren't surprised. You knew how close they all were and you expected Taehyung to tell them about you, hell, you expected him to brag about his arrangement.

However, the both of you had a set of rules when you started this whole thing, one of them being he would never talk about work, or the other band members. So you were surprised he was even mentioning them to you at all.

“Anyway. We have been training for our tour, we leave in three months and everyone is very stressed and high-strung. Hobi almost hit Namjoon yesterday because he got a dance step wrong and nearly took him out.”

“The last couple of weeks have been very long and very tiring. I'm sure you noticed I've been calling on you more, and being a little more….rough.” He admits with a shy smile.

“Tae believe me it's hot as fuck. This is what our arrangement was for right? Stress relief. For both of us.” You remind him.

You didn't mind that he was calling on you more. You knew once he went on tour he wouldn't call on you at all so you were relishing all this until he came back.

“This is why I'm glad to have you. I love going on tour. I love seeing our fans but the prep can be…well. A lot. Everyone is feeling it. Everyone is at maximum stress. And you're like my oasis from all of it.”

“Well after our last practice, some of the guys mentioned… how they wish they had… what we had. An… arrangement where they could blow off some steam. Have someone to help with all the stress.” He says cocking an eyebrow.

Your mind is running a million miles a minute and you are sure your eyeballs are about to pop out. Is he suggesting what you think he is suggesting?

“I really don't want to offend you, and you can yell at me if you want. But I was wondering if you would be willing…to share the wealth. Help my bandmates with their tension. Let them fuck you.” He finishes finally staring at you.

Your jaw drops and even in the hot water of the bath, you feel yourself shiver. Goosebumps cover your arms and legs.

How could you possibly say no to that?

There was no universe or timeline where you would say no to that.

You knew the members of BTS of course, from what you had seen online as you had never met them but a slew of dirty thoughts started racing though your mind.

“You still with me?” Tae teases which has you snapping out of your thoughts and looking down to see some of the bubbles have disappeared and Tae can clearly see you clenching your thighs under the water.

“I-um sorry I think my brain stopped working.” You admit with an awkward laugh.

Tae leans down and presses a kiss to your collarbone as your eyes roll to the back of your head. His lips are soft and warm against your skin as his hand comes to palm your breast. It feels so good and you already feel yourself throbbing. You weren't sure if it was because of him, or his suggestion but you felt a moan fall from your parted lips.

His hands traveled down your wet, naked body and settled between your legs, which you opened obediently for him.

He darkly chuckled against your throat as he felt how soaked you were.

“God you really like that idea huh?” He mutters as a finger enters you and you buck your hips up at the sensation of him slowly thrusting his finger in and out.

“Tae. Fuck.” You cry out as he curls his finger under the water and rubs against that spot inside you that has you moaning out his name and gripping the side of the tub.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd like to be Bangtan's little slut. Let all the members fuck you. So naughty Y/N. So dirty.” Tae growls out as his finger speeds up and you are a moaning, whining mess under him.

Soon enough he coaxes you through an orgasm that has you shaking and moaning below him. You bury your face in his sweater to muffle your cries as your wall flutters around his digit.

Once he removes his finger you throw your head back and try to catch your breath.

He is above you grinning as he watches you try to recover.

“Fucking hell Tae.” You say breathless as you stare him down.

“So I take it you like that idea?” He asks with a lick of his lips as his fingers dance around the water, swirling the leftover bubbles around.

“Yes. I do. Very much. Mhmm.” You say trying not to show how excited you are.

Tae laughs, he can see right through you. But is nice enough not to comment on it.

“So here's what I'm thinking. I talk to the members. Make sure they are okay with it. It will be the same arrangement we have. I give them your number. They text you when they need you. Sound good?” He asks.

“Sounds good to me.” You reply.

“Yeah seems like it sounds very good to you. Don't make yourself cum too much tonight thinking about it yeah?” He teases which has you flicking water at him.

“You are the one who suggested it!” You tease back with a laugh.

“I didn't want you to be offended and here you are, enthusiastic as ever. I love it.” He says removing his hands from the water and wiping them on your bath towel.

He stands up and adjusts his sweater, pulling it down to cover his hard-on. You smirk and Tae shoots you a look.

“Well, I should get going. Just remember who you belong to babe. I was here first.” He reminds you pointing to your thighs where the red bite marks are starting to turn into small bruises.

You nod at him and he winks at you.

“I don't think I'll let you know what they say. I think I'll let it be a surprise. If you get a text from an unknown number…well you'll know. Now be a good girl and don't be glued to your phone too much.” He says over his shoulder as he turns to leave which has your mouth hanging open in shock.

You hear him chuckle and slip his shoes on as he leaves, you lay back in the bath and close your eyes, mind reeling with what the next couple of months are going to be like.

-------------------------

Authors Note #2- Firstly, thank you for reading! I do plan to make this into a series! Here's how it will go, on the last day of each month (Starting January 2024) I will release another part

Seven parts total for Seven members (because let's be real Taehyung deserves a full fic not just a small intro)

I spun a wheel to decide the order (but purposely saved Namjoon for last for...reasons)

The Order that was decided was

Jimin, Jungkook, Jin, Yoongi, Taehyung, Hobi, Namjoon

If you want to be put on a tag list send me a message and I'll add you.

This series ends at the end of July 2024

can i request fwb!jk who is obsessed w oc's tits and basically worships them?

Bite me - Enhypen ♪

pairing: fwb!jk x fem!reader

genre: smut, drabble, unedited

word count: 1.1k

warnings: titty worship, dirty mouth jk, titty fucking, spit, pet names, fwb!jk x fem!reader

note: a christmas gift from me to y’all<3 thanks for requesting I hope you enjoy! sorry if it’s not to your liking. -dubu☆

“Are you going to actually watch the movie?” You questioned him smugly. Jungkook looked over at you, a puzzled look present on his face.

“Or are you going to stare at my chest all night, hmm?” The half smirk on your face stretching into a full blown smile. His cheeks went red but regret was not seen on his soft features.

“Sorry…that top looks really good on you,” he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes flickering between you and your shirt.

You shifted on the couch to face him, propping up on your knees for a better angle. You leaned forward putting your finger under his chin, meeting his lust filled gaze.

“My eyes are up here, Kookie.” You moved your hand, reaching under your shirt to skillfully remove your bra. Your eyes never leaving Jungkook’s. You felt the clasp release itself and you tugged slightly, letting it drop to the couch.

He quirked a brow at you, a silent challenge flowing in the space that surrounds you. The TV blared mindlessly beside you as the long forgotten movie came to its climax.

“Can you stop teasing me already, babe?” His eyes fell to your chest, cock twitching in his shorts at the the sight of your nipples peaking through your shirt.

You watched him shift in his seat, titling your head to the side seductively. You gave him a knowing look, urging him to make a move.

“Babe?” You asked cutely, “When did I become your babe, Koo?”

“When you let me cum inside you last night.” He stated nonchalantly, reaching forward to run his hand up the expanse of your tummy. You felt your cheeks warming at his words, placing your hand over his.

“Whatever,” you said embarrassed, guiding his hand under your shirt until it rested on the swell of your left breast. They were still sore from last night, the ghost of Jungkook’s skilled hands lingered on your skin.

“Shit —“ he groaned, moving closer to you on the couch. He leaned forward capturing your lips in a kiss, greedily exploring your mouth with his tongue. You felt your pussy growing wetter as he deepened the kiss.

You pulled apart to catch your breath, chests heaving heavily. Jungkook removed himself from his spot, suddenly getting on his knees in front of you. He placed his warm hands on your waist, guiding you to face him at the edge of the couch. “Needy Kookie,” you mutter, biting your lip and swiftly discarding your shirt.

“So fucking sexy,” he runs his hand up your hips, caressing your soft figure before he begins massaging the supple skin. A symphony of weak whimpers escaping your swollen lips.

His fingers dug into your flesh firmly, hands moulding with your skin in an obsessive attempt at claiming his place. He leaned in attaching his lips to your right nipple, making you squirm in your seat, legs spreading painfully wide. He laved his tongue over your sensitive nipple, brushing his fingers gently over the other to show you extra attention. The lewd sounds of your pretty moans filled the living room, hips bucking towards him.

“Sound so pretty when you moan for me, baby.” He grazed his teeth along your nipple, licking feverishly around your areola.

“Jungkook,” you whined his name pathetically, pussy clenching around nothing at the feeling of his hot mouth on your body.

“Hmm?” He hummed around your sensitive bud, removing himself with a pop and switching to the other breast. You ran your hand through his locks, gripping them when he left a particularly rough love mark behind. He placed a lingering kiss over the forming bruise.

“I could have you in my mouth all day,” he said huskily chin glistening with spit, “such perfect tits,” he moaned kissing them one by one, holding them up in his hands like prized possessions.

You grabbed the back of his head, pulling him towards your neck, needing to feel his lips all over you. He quickly got the hint, taking his time to leave soft kisses along your cheeks and down your neck until he met his sweet spot again. Pulling your titty into his mouth and hungrily lapping at the flesh, your jaw went slack at the overstimulating feeling. A wet spot forming on your panties as you lock eyes with Jungkook. His cock strained against his shorts uncomfortably, pre-cum ceaselessly leaking from the angry tip.

“Need to Titty fuck you, doll face.” He says breathlessly, his brown eyes blown wide with lust. You swallow a whimper submissively, pussy throbbing at his vulgar words.

He rises from his position on the floor, his strong legs wobbly after kneeling for so long. You impatiently remove his shorts, licking your lips at the sight of his hard girth standing at attention mere inches from your lips. You fight the urge to take him in your mouth, letting him move your hair out of your face attentively.

He positioned himself in front of you, letting you place your tits on either side of his cock, forming a warm barrier around it. You began slowly moving them up and down, spitting on his cock to lubricate the surface earning a guttural groan from Jungkook. You could tell he was already close, knowing your foreplay was the key to his neediness. His hips bucked upwards uncontrollably, placing his larger hands around yours to speed up your movements. “Fuck yes,” he whimpered needily. “Squeeze my cock with your tits, bunny.”

You removed your hands letting him take control of the moment, running a hand down under his cock until you reached his balls. Massaging them carefully, urging him to met his orgasm. You loved making him feel good, the delicious noises he emitted only aroused you more.

“Holy — fuck” he moaned hotly, hands moving at a feral pace as he relished in the feeling of your soft mounds around his cock. You noticed his hips stutter, a harmonic call of your name continuously falling from his lips. Spurts of his cum shot out without warning, the white strands landing haphazardly on your breasts. Jungkook slowed his actions, chest still heaving after his climax.

“Better?” You asked playfully, running your fingers through the cum on your tits collecting it to taste. He watched you in amazement, a lascivious twinkle apparent in his eyes.

“Your turn, y/n.”

I've read this twice. I wasn't satisfied with the amount of pain I've been through reading, so I read another time. It's not about the angst - there is a lot, I should warn - but the "I miss the story the plotline the characters and everything else" kind of re-reading.

This is probably THE fanfiction if you're feeling sad and in a true need for a cuddle. They cuddle A LOT and I love it so so much it even hurts. My favorite parts were definitely those, where intimacy is at the highest point (for me, I guess), and the comfort that it irradiated, even when the smuts came, were *chef's kiss* amazing.

It's already a fav and I know, I just know, I'm gonna read it again, so I need to save this wonderful piece the author gently posted for everyone. Speaking of them: thank you so much for this! Your mind is beautiful and so is your writing. Can't wait to read more!

Sugarplum Elegy (M)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader Genre | Fluff, smut, angst / College!AU, FWB!AU, Soundcloud singer!AU, Idiots to Lovers!AU Warnings | Explicit language, hopeless and helpless pining, constipated feelings, lots of smut, rimming, cum-eating, spitting, blowjob, fingering, classroom sex, Jungkook is emotionally constipated but wbk  Summary | You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while.

Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

Word count | 17.9k

There’s no greater testament to love than love itself – the sheer vulnerability of being bound to someone emotionally and physically, and the aching process that bleeds into infinity. To love in every sense of the word is to offer your entire heart and place it on someone’s bare hands, despite knowing that they might crush it in front of your very eyes.

Maybe love is like a dandelion, pretty during the summer mornings, but upon a huge gust of wind, its petals will be blown away, leaving its heart barren, abandoned. Given your past relationships, forming a fresh new ache and vulnerability for yet another person frightens the fuck out of you.

So when you wake up to a Jeon Jungkook beside you, lulled by the quiet sound of his breathing, your heart fizzles in your chest. It’s a no-strings-attached agreement that you two have decided on at the beginning of the year, but it’s still a feeling you can’t quite get accustomed to, especially when the first thing you see in the morning is his peaceful sleeping face, unless he’s spooning you, in which his warm breath will tickle the back of your nape. It’s weird because it feels nice, feels so right.

It’s been six months since you two started the whole fuckbuddy agreement, yet you still can’t get used to how warm Jungkook is, always so warm, as if the sun has chiselled its way into every single pore of your body, softening and melting your sharp edges. While his body still sends zaps down your spine, your mind registers that you’ve grown to adore the heat of his body when your cold feet always find themselves tangled together with his under the sheets.

He’s not much of a morning person, but sometimes, you’d wake up to him staring at you, caressing every detail of your face with his eyes, sunlight glittering golden in them, and smiling like a fool (an adorable one at that) at your groggy and sleepy self, as though your crusty morning face turns him on because it often leads to the continuation of the previous night’s copulation before scrambling to class.

You know no bounds nor depth with Jeon Jungkook. If anything, you’ve concluded that you’ve never met a person quite like him before, like the cosmos has moved for this concurrence to be possible.

Continuar lendo

Arrangements Ch 1

Title: Arrangements. Chapter Title: It’s just a little crush.

Pairing: Lim Sejun x Reader. Mentions of Choi Byungchan and non mentions of Do Hanse, Heo Chan, Kang Seungsik, Han Seungwoo and Jun Subin as well as OC’s.

Summary: He was the aggravating fuckboy roommate of your best friends but maybe that’s what caused you to agree to such an arrangement. But will the arrangement work out? Between mutual friends, his other hookups and a certain romantic interest on your part, this could all be trouble.

Words: 6,500

Rating: PG13 but will eventually become M

Genre for this Chapter: College! au, Angst.

Tags/Warnings: Drinking, Mentions of sexual scenarios, mentions of possible drug use (a roofie), Mentions of someone possibly wanting to take advantage of someone (While Nothing happens I need to put this as a warning as it can trigger some past experiences readers have had)

Fic Series inspired Playlist Link:

Taglist: @a-mess-of-fandoms @dnyad

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You hated Lim Sejun and his band of one night stands. Before anybody assumes it’s a case of “oh she has it bad for him and she’s just jealous” you were in no way into him like that and in no way jealous of the Grey haired man you dubbed ‘FookBoi’ nor his female companions. He simply cramped your style.

When he moved into your best friends apartment as a third roommate you thought you’d have the same dynamic with your friends that you had had for about a year before his sudden appearance. But you were sorely mistaken.

It was Friday night and you had your body sprawled over the deep grey fabric of the couch with your sock covered feet lying on your best friend Do Hanses blanket covered lap. Byungchan had occupied the black leather like single seat to your right and you all were currently debating on whether or not twins were creepy. The debate brought to you by you all watching The Shining once again.

“How could you even think twins are creepy? It’s clearly just the matching outfits with the head tilting that eludes to the creepy factor” you were thrown into a fit of laughter as Hanse imitated the twin’s expression when Johnny first saw them, his lip ring glinting in the soft shadows of the single lit lamp to his right. Byungchans dimples were on full display as he couldn’t help but laugh as well. You really did try not to blush at his adorable face. You had a thing for one of your best friends and you couldn’t help it, your small crush had existed for around 8 months are you knew it was a matter of time before it was known.

You were admiring his soft contours of his face down to his defined jawline and back up to lip plump lips curled upward around his teeth as his focus was still on Hanses face when the front door slammed open causing you three to jump in surprise. Hanse grabbed your feet as if to use your unicorn print covered appendages to shield himself from the big scary monster he assumed had not only come through his front door but also used a key.

As you tore your gaze away from the man you had been admiring you looked up to see Lim Sejun walking passed the back of the couch with some blonde traipsing her body on his ebony leather jacket covered shoulder. He threw you a smirk as he had undoubtedly witnessed your admiration for his roommate. “Enjoy your movie” was all that left his lips before you heard a woman’s giggle and the closing of his door followed by a hard thump.

Pulling your feet back to your body you crossed your soft cotton short covered legs and snatched a fist full of buttery salty popcorn from the shared bowl in the center of the dark wooden coffee table situated in front of you. Hanse pulled the off white blanket closer to his body and used a black nail polish covered finger to press play on your movie. As you took another bite full of popcorn your munching was cut short by a woman moaning a loud “Unngh yes Daddy” Choking on the salty kernels your face took on a sour expression and you turned to see Hanse grimace and Byungchan blush a bright crimson followed by a shake of his head.

The sounds of what started as a soft mumbling were turning into a shrieking of sorts causing you and your best friends to stand up together and make a beeline to Hanses bedroom. You all knew it would be no use to higher the television to try and drown out the sounds of pleasure the two people in the room next to the living room were feeling. Clutching your beloved popcorn and fizzy coke you settled yourself in the middle of the light blue jersey sheet covered bed. Hanse with the fuzzy blanket from the living room took up the space to your right and Byungchan settled himself on your left, his long legs sprawled out, his green and yellow parakeet printed socks causing you to smile softly.

With a few clicks of the remote the movie had been ready to be continued but before you could immerse yourself into the infamous “Redrum” scene, Hanse decided to look you straight in the eyes and with an obnoxiously loud screech he let out a “ HOOOYAH D A D D Y.” His eyes rolling back into his skull. Fake gagging you shook your head and slapped his tattoo covered shoulder over his thin tank top. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

Curling yourself into your oversized hoodie you got comfortable with both of your best friends, settling yourselves once again into weekly movie night. As the movie played you were brought back to what had just happened in the living room. While this certainly wasn’t the first time your plans were ruined by Mr ‘Fookboi’ himself, it still irked you. You knew this wasn’t your apartment and you had no say what happened around here but you missed the fun times you three had had without the possibility of hearing ridiculously loud sex take over the three bedroom apartment at any time of the day or night.

Hell, before Sejun moved in, the boys had shared an apartment with a man named Seungsik. He was genuinely nice and even joined in for a couple of your movie nights. It was peaceful and the only loud banging happened in the apartment was when Hanse attempted to make cookies and the clanging of pots and pans that most certainly weren’t used in baking resounded throughout the shared space. But that peace was cut short when Seungsik accepted a study abroad opportunity and Sejun occupied his space.

You spent about 4 days out of the week here and you swore there was a new female face that accompanied Sejun almost every one of those days for the passed six months that he had been living here. You were in no way sex shaming him as you believed everyone can do whatever they wanted with their own bodies but his choice in woman was sometimes infuriating. They held no respect that this was a shared apartment and it showed.

From the Brunette last week who had walked around in nothing but a towel while you helped Hanse study for his Psych midterm to the Blonde the week prior that you caught using YOUR purple toothbrush that you had left in one of the two bathrooms for nights you slept over. Like who the fuck uses a toothbrush that isn’t theirs? As you had taken in her party dress which you assumed she had been wearing earlier in the night when she followed Sejun to his room passing you and Byungchan grimacing over Hanses attempt at baking  muffins, covered frame and her makeup smudged eyes, your eyes narrowed in on your toothbrush between her pink stained lips.

“Excuse me, that’s my toothbrush” you said with a grimace on your face as she leaned down to spit the toothpaste that had been sloshing in her mouth into the sink, the white fluid making its way down the drain. “hmm? oh here” was all she replied before placing the toothbrush in your palm. It still had toothpaste on it and it took everything in you to not throw the toothbrush at her and go full on hulk mode.

Then there was the Red head a few days ago that you knew as Cynthia from your shared Calculus class. You had been making dinner for your best friends that had been having a difficult school week. Walking into the apartment with the the bags full of groceries using your key the boys had given you, you set the canvas bags onto the white counter before organizing them into piles of what needed to be made in order from first to last. Pulling together the pots and pans you needed your thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched whine and the sounds of a bed thumping against a wall. Glancing towards the door you saw what appeared to be a woman’s taupe coat. Shaking your head you let out a disgusted ‘gross’ and pulled up your Spotify playlist hoping it would drown out some of the sounds coming from the occupied bedroom.

Throwing the tomatoes and onions into a pan you let them sauté until they were caramelized and got started on putting together the garlic butter for the fresh baked french bread you scored at the grocery store. Grooving to your music, you went along with your chopping of vegetables for the salad followed by dumping a box of penne into the salted water you had prepared. Spreading the herby garlic spread onto the soft doughy bread you plopped it into the oven and checked your pasta.

‘Buss it Buss it Buss it Buss it’ came through the speaker of your phone and you let your body do a little twerk as you plated the penne a la vodka, salad and finally the warm garlic bread fresh from the oven, turning around you checked to make sure everything was turned off and grabbed your phone to check the time. “They should be home soon” you mused and poured yourself a glass of ice water. ’Is you FUCKIN’ yelling the fuckin part you wiggled your hips as you sipped your water and turned around when the sound of crunching put a halt in your boppin.

Your jaw twitched as you took in the Red head leaning against the island counter with a piece of garlic bread between her smeared lipstick covered lips. The smell of roasted garlic and tomato sauce hung in the air as you stepped towards the female eating the food you had just made.

“That food isn’t for you, you do know it’s rude to just eat what someone else had made without asking right?” you furrowed your brows at her and extended a hand towards the rest of what you had plated up. Leaning her head against her left palm she licked her lips clean of what looked like breadcrumbs and smiled. “Aww, were you making a meal for Sejunnie? if so, I can assure you this won’t get him into your pants, not when he has a lady like me right here. But it’s cute that you tried.” Opening your mouth ready to ask her what the literal fuck she was talking about, Cynthia moved her elbow along the counter followed by a ‘oops’ and a shrug of her shoulder.

Looking down at the tray that had skidded across the wooden floor when her elbow knocked down your garlic bread just milliseconds ago you let out an annoyed “are you fucking kidding me?” Looking unaffected, Cynthia shrug her pale pink covered shoulders at you and licked her index finger of what looked like garlic butter. Leaning down with a bend of your knees you started to pile the bread you now had to throw out onto the faux marble tray that balances itself in your left hand. You grit your teeth stopping yourself from saying much else knowing that it wouldn’t do a thing. Knees knocking against the floor as you reached for a piece that had gone under the counter, before you could grasp it between your deep purple nail polished fingers, a pale hand reached out and placed it down onto your tray.

Looking up your eyes met Sejuns light grey contact covered gaze and you shook your head head towards the woman he had just been fucking. “Some company you keep” you mumbled to him before standing up, lavender slipper covered feet coming into contact with the dark wooden floor. As the door clicked open you were met with an enthusiastic“y/n did you cook? your’e the BEST.” Hanse stepped through the threshold of the open plan kitchen and took in the scene. You with a tray of what looked like garlic bread, a furious gaze in your eyes, Sejun with his hand extended towards you and a red head smacking her lips along a napkin.

“Um what happened?” left Hanses lips as you tossed the food that had been in your hand into the trash and got to work looking for the swiffer they kept in a linen closet close to the kitchen. Your ears picked up on what sounded like Sejun saying out a soft yet firm “I called you an uber, they’re here already” followed by a sickeningly sweet “But Sejunnie we could spend more time together.” Rolling your eyes you entered the kitchen once again and wiped the wet wipe along the grease covered floor. “Domestic, cute” Looking up you stepped towards the red haired female ready to throw hands. You were beyond tired of her shit and weren’t going to take anymore. She fucked with food, precious FOOD.

“I told you to leave already” Sejun grabbed Cynthias elbow and guided her towards the front door. “But, ugh fine. Call me later?” she asked and he just shrugged his shoulder while walking her to the elevator.

Angrily throwing the swiffer pad into the trash you thrust the mop to Hanse to put away and bounded to the sink to wash your hands. “I fucking can’t stand people like her, Sejun needs to filter out the bitches from his list of hookups. I swear to god dealing with someone like her is not worth getting your dick wet.” You shouted and Hanse pat your back.

Byungchan’s soft head of hair leaning on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you sighed shaking the thoughts of Sejuns hookups out of your mind to focus on the movie that was almost finished. Looking to your left you smiled softly at the dimpled boys sleeping face. Hanse shifted on you right to pull his blanket closer to his body.

While Hanse was still awake you knew it would be a few minutes before he completely passed out like the sweetheart to your left had. Sitting up carefully you leaned Byungchans head onto a pillow and brought the comforter up his body while Hanse curled into himself mumbling a “you can sleep here or take Channies bed.” Shaking your head you let him know you’d be taking the couch as you tucked the bowl of kernels under your arm and balanced two glasses between your fingers of your fight hand as you maneuvered your way out of his room and to the kitchen. The soft lighting over the stove illuminated your trek to the kitchen and you spotted Sejun in a pair of joggers and an oversized pale blue t shirt sipping a glass of what looked like water.

Moving passed him you dumped the remnants of the kernels into the trash and carefully plopped the dishes into the sink to his right. To your left his eyes followed your movements as you cleaned up. “I’m sleeping on the couch so if you’re going for round two with whatever her name is, please keep it down.” you grumbled without looking at him and you made your way to the couch you had spent many a nights on. From the open kitchen you heard him shift as he placed the glass he had been drinking out of into the sink. “She left already, goodnight y/n” he responded and walked the few steps to his room, his door softly closing behind him and you shut your eyes, pulling the blue blanket that had been on the end of Hanses bed and you had snatched, closer to your body letting sleep overtake your tired brain.

The smell of sizzling bacon and warm butter invading your nostrils sending your senses in an uproar and your body to slowly open your eyes. Sitting up you still clutched the blanket you had been using tight around your body in a makeshift cocoon. Gaze scanning the kitchen behind the couch you were sitting on you watched as Sejun joked with Hanse while preparing the bacon that was sizzling in the pan below him. Hanse was mixing up more pancake batter and Byungchan was finishing a flip on the duo of cakes bubbling up in the pan he had been working with.

You could almost curse your stomach as an obscenely loud grumbled was heard in the open space causing all three boys to turn around and take in your messy bun that more like a turd flopping atop your head and your mascara slightly smudged under your eyes. Raising your left hand into what looked like a small wave you heard Hanse laugh loudly causing you to smile. “The Princess is awake” with a stern look in your eyes his smiled widened “I forgot y/n hates being called Princess, EHEM my queen.” Standing up you stretched your arms over your head and arched your back hearing the muscles pop from lying in the same position for too long.

Trudging towards the bathroom, you abandoned the blanket on the kitchen island on your way there. As you took in in your appearance in the bathroom mirror while you let the water warm you shrugged. Your best friends had seen you look a lot worse.

As you smoothed the foaming cleanser onto your hands and over your face you let out a soft sigh in content. Reaching into the cabinet under the sink you pulled your small body of makeup remover you had stashed there and massaged it onto your eyes to cleanly remove any remnants of eye makeup. Letting the warm water rinse your face of all impurities you got to work on bushing your teeth with your N E W purple toothbrush.

Letting your hair loose from its turd like confines, you softly ran what you knew as Hanses brush over your locks and shuffled back into the kitchen after your bathroom escapades were done with.

Tucking your hair behind your ears you poured yourself a glass of cold OJ and watched as the men finished with their Gordan Ramsey like cosplay of cooking. Giggling to yourself as the visual of Gordan Ramseys face on your friends bodies overtook you.

When you noticed the boys were just about done preparing the food you pulled plates from the cabinet and paired them with silverware for all four persons. A comfortable silence surrounding the room as you all piled your plates with food and made your way to the dining table to the left of the kitchen.

“Thanks for the food” you smiled out while cutting into your fluffy pancakes earning a wide from Hanse, a smile from Byungchan and a nod of your welcome from Sejun. Plopping a piece into your mouth you almost moaned at the warm syrupy goodness that coated your tongue, you could take the vanilla Hanses flavored the cakes with.

For the most part you all had ate in silence with the exception of Sejun and Byungchan talking about the college Basketball team Byungchan was on.

You had offered to do the dishes in repayment for the delicious breakfast the boys had cooked up and joined in on the conversation that took place in the living room when you had finished. Settling yourself on the cushion next to Hanse you let him ruffle your hair and leaned your head on his shoulder.

Hanse was like the brother you never had, you had known him since your first year of college, you small body nervous as all hell when you walked into your first Literature class of the year. Sitting next to you he had struck up a conversation when he took in the crescent moon earring dangling from your double helix piercing on your right ear.

From then on you all had become great friends, you had liked the same music and enjoyed some of the same aesthetics. A couple of months later you all had stumbled upon Byungchan at a frat party and a conversation about Liquor vs Beer ensued in the comfort of the lit kitchen. Before you knew it you all had drug your asses to waffle house for 4am food to nourish your alcohol filled bodies. You both becoming fast friends with the tall teddybear of a man.

A year later and the two men rented an apartment together inspired by the fact that you had been living in an apartment with your roommate since the middle of your freshman year. They had invited you to be their third roommate but you were on a multi-year lease and to be honest, you didn’t mind your roommate. You loved your friends but you liked being able to come home when you needed alone time or just girl time. Lately you had been spending more time at your best friends house due to your roommate having her boyfriend over a lot more before he graduated later this year and you wanted to give them alone time.

Musing to yourself on how grateful you were for their friendship you took in the effortless conversation between all three men. You knew they had been friends with Sejun for sometimes prior to him moving in but you hadn’t really taken in how friendly they were all with each other. You had to admit it put the moving mattress of a man in a new light.

“Favorite Nirvana song..3..2…1.” Hanse blurted out. All together four answers were heard at once “Lithium” you heard Hanse shout which you had already known. “All Apologies” Byungchan smiled and “Come as you are!” you and to your surprise Sejun yelled at once. “oof we have a tie.” Hanse said followed by a “Okay, okay.. Favorite BEYONCE song 3…2…1”

“Wait wait, Beyonce solo or Destinys Child included cause that’s a whole other convo” you added in before anybody could answer before taking a sip of your ice water and roaming your feet into the blanket you had been using. “Solo Beyonce” Hanse answered before shouting his countdown once again.

“Crazy in love OG version” Hanse shouted, “Formation” was Byungchans answer. “Irreplaceable” Sejun answered while tilting his head onto his palm with his elbow resting on the arm of the couch to your left. “If I were a boy” you smiled at the lyrics invading your thoughts. “But seriously Yonce is a fucking icon and you can’t just pick one song, that’s like ILLEGAL!” you added which earned claps from your best friends and a genuine smile from Sejun causing you to cock an eyebrow at his dimples cheeks.

The familiar ding of your phone signaled a text and you entered your password into the drive while vaguely listening to what the three men were talking about. Sending a message in reply to your friend and classmate Haley you tossed your phone back onto the coffee table in front of you and leaned back onto the comfy cushions behind you. “Oh shit y/n I almost forgot! Heo Chan’s frat is having a party tonight and i’m making you come with” The inky haired man to your right said with a clap of his hands, his rings clanking against each other. “Oddly enough that’s what Haley was texting me about and I already agreed to go with her since i’m obviously the best wingman ever. I also love how you weren’t planning on giving me a choice on going.”

“I wasn’t giving you a choice because I knew you couldn’t say no to this face” with a pucker of his pink lips, Hanse folded his fingers under his chin leaning closer to your face in a mock pout. Rolling your eyes you flick his slightly exposed forehead with a painted index finger. “Yeah yeah yeah.”

“Byungchannies going too and I think Sejun may show up too” Hanse added and you nodded. You knew Byungchan would go, with him being good friends with Chan and Seungwoo from Lambda Tau Nu or VTN for short. Sejun going came as no shock to you either knowing the amount of girls that would be wanting him to go with them and of course leave with them as well.

Checking the time on your apple watch linked onto your wrist with its black leather strap, you stood up throwing the blanket that kept your legs warm onto Hanses lap and grabbed your phone while looking for your slippers you had worn there. It was a little passed two in the afternoon and you knew you need to go home, shower and then later prep for the party. “Imma head out to freshen up, see you later. Hanse you picking me up?” with an of course heaving your best friends mouth you left the comfort of the three mens apartment and heading off to your own.

Smoothing your warm vanilla and rose body oil over your freshly shaven legs you checked your phone noting you had a little over an hour to finish getting ready before Hanse and byungchan would be pounding on your door. You had just finished pulling your black satin bra and panty set when your doorbell sounded off. Wrapping your fluffy white robe close to your body you opened the door to a smiling Haley who was carrying what you presumed to be her “getting ready shit” and a bottle of Svedka.

“Pre game sweets” she said when she caught you glancing down to the bottle clutched between her fingers. With a slight smile and a shake of your head, you both headed towards your room to finish getting ready.

Checking her ass in the mirror, Haley gave a little booty jiggle in her skin tight taupe body con dress that accentuated her deep mocha colored skin. You had just finished styling your straight hair with some silkening gloss when Hanses called signaling them leaving their apartment and heading towards yours. Sliding your feet into your black suede high heeled ankle booties you smacked your medium toned nude lipstick covered lips and followed Haley into the kitchen.

When the boys got there Haley demanded a pre game shot and you all but obliged. With a slam of the clear shot glass onto the faux marble counter you all headed out, following Hanse to his small Silver SUV.

Pulling up to the long street of parked cars in front of the VTN house you shook your head at the seemingly already drunk couples making out in the bushes and a half naked guy running down the lawn with a V painted onto his chest in what looked like red lipstick.

Entering through the oak double doors behind Byungchan you squeezed his shoulder as he maneuvered you all through the crowded entrance. Settling on a quieter side of what you knew from a few parties here as the living room, Byungchan excused himself to bring you all some drinks and you surveyed the area you were in. A couple of kegs were a few feet to your left where some guy you recognized as Subin was performing a keg stand. The two couches and coffee table were pushed closer near a wall where the stairs leading to the second floor bedrooms was to make the makeshift dance floor where bodies were rhythmically shaking the hips. Behind you to your right was the brightly lit kitchen when bottles lined the counters and bags of chips were strewn everywhere.

As you surveyed the kitchen you noticed Byungchan talking to a girl you knew as Emi. Byunchans dimples were on full display as he laughed at whatever she had been saying causing a soft bloom of rose to flush onto her pale cheeks. Leaning down to stir her drink her light brown hair fell slightly over her face to which Byungchan leaned forward and swiped his fingers over her forehead and still blushing cheeks to tuck her shoulder length hair behind her right ear. Noticing your gaze, Hanse chimed in “Oooooooh is Channie finally making a move on Emi? He’s been into her for like a month now” Whipping your hair around towards the tattooed man your deep brown smokey eyeshadow covered eyes widened slightly.

“He what now? How did I not know about this?” Hanse furrowed his eyebrow at your seemingly upset look and Haley cleared her throat. Haley had been the only person who knew about your crush on your friend from a night of one too many Vodka Tonics and Tequila shots. “I only knew about it cause I caught him shooting her google eyes and I asked him what was up until he fessed up.. why do you look? wait..y/n did you?” With a tick of your jaw you shook you head pleading with him not to continue his question.

“Since when?” was all he asked and you softly told him the answer. “But it’s fine, I honestly didn’t think much would come from it. I wasn’t sure how our friendship and the dynamic would work if we ever got together” You ran your thumb along the hem of your black and deep green plaid skirt. “It’s for the best, I’m glad he looks happy.” you were being honest, you wanted your friends to be happy and that’s all that had mattered to you. Yes you were a little heart broken but it was better than him finding out about your crush and you getting rejected then, or you all getting together then later breaking up and you losing one of your best friends and Hanse being stuck in the middle of his two best friends.

With an are you sure? Hanse headed off to the kitchen when you nodded your head and sighed. “God you’re such a good person babe, I would’ve been like ‘HELL NO IM NOT OKAY I AM A HEARTBROKEN WOMAN ON THE VERGE OF A MELTDOWN’” Haley whisper screamed into your ear and you felt yourself smiling at her over dramatic theater kid self.

“Ugh Chan looks so good” biting her deep fuchsia colored lips Haley wiggled her eyebrows and you shook your head. You knew she was staring at his ass in those tight light wash jeans as he talked to Hanse and Byingchan in the kitchen.

“Oh shit he’s coming over here” Fluffing her black shoulder length curled hair Haley pushed her boobs out by straitening her back causing you to giggle and accept the drink Hanse handed you. “Hey Haley hey y/n” Chan smiled causing adorable dimples to grace his cheeks. ‘Do all these men have dimples or what?’ you thought and shook your head slightly.

With a hello and a thank you for invited us you let Haley grab all of Chans attention with a conversation about Musicals. Hanse caught on to what you were doing and stepped further away from the two, taking you with him.

You had been talking to Hanse about Haley and Chan when Byungchan stepped in front of you both with Emi right behind him. “Hey guys, this is Emi” Hanse smiled and gave her a little wave. Suppressing your urge to be jealous and petty you took a deep breath and nodded towards her “Hi” leaving your lips. As Byunghcan talked to you both about how sweet Emi was and how they had been talking but it hadn’t been anything serious, you gripped your glass in your right hand and tilted your head back drinking all of its contents in one go. The familiar warm burn of alcohol siding down your throat and distracting you from Byuns dimples as he spoke so highly of the female clutching onto his right arm.

Taking in the girls pale blue satin liken dress and beige sweater handing off of her arms you had to admit she seemed nice, very demure and soft spoken but nice. “You’re so pretty, Byungchan didn’t do you justice when he told me about his best friends” Emi genuinely smiled at you and you thanked her. Needing a refill of your drink you excused yourself and headed towards the kitchen.

Setting your glass on the counter you got to work mixing Rum and a splash of coke. Taking your first sip you nodded and hummed at the taste. If you were going to deal with your crush and best friend finding a girlfriend you definitely needed something strong. Taking another sip you leaned your hip against the counters and slowly moved your head in a circle to relieve the tension you had been building up. You felt your body starting to heat up from the amount of bodies in the house and the alcohol flowing freely through your veins as you finished your second drink with a long chug.

Shrugging your oversized medium blue denim jacket off of your shoulder you looked for a suitable place to hide it from partygoers. Situating your jacket behind bottles of soap under the sink you made a note on your phone letting you know where you hide it in case you forgot and needed to retrieve it the next day.

Pouring yourself another drink you capped the Rum when you were done and sighed as the breeze from the overhead vent licked against your skin in your black crop top and plaid skirt. “Damn, now that’s a drink” came from your left causing your to look up with an arch of one of your eyebrows. Liam Martinez stood in front of you with a smile of his pearly whites and you couldn’t help but smile back. You recognized the Wide Receiver of your college football as you shared a literary course with him. You actually also shared that class with Sejun as well.

“Want one?” you asked with a smile to which he shifted closer to you and handed you his red cup. “Yes ma’am” you opened the same bottle you had been using and started pouring it into his glass, followed by a splash of the open coke to your right. Scooping a bit of ice from the bag in the sink into his glass you handed it back to him which he accepted gratefully.

“So, what’re you doing here? or better question, why are you drinking alone in a kitchen full of bottles?” Leaning your hip against the counter you quirked you lip slightly over you glass. “Well if anybody was drinking wouldn’t it be better to drink in a room full of bottles?” Chuckling at your retort Liam placed a hand on the counter and sipped his drink waiting for you to continue. “But if you must know, I finished my drink my friend made me and came to make another, plus they were having a convo I didn’t really feel like being a part of” you let the last bit slip out with a shrug of your shoulders.

With a ‘hmm’ in acknowledgment you two started a pretty nice conversation about your shared class and the frat house you were currently in which Liam had been a part of. Feeling the buzz flowing through your body you accepted his offer when he asked you to dance.

With your hand tucked into his you made your way to the dance floor and wrapped your arms around his neck as the music thumped around you. Settling his hands on your hips he pulled you closer to him, swaying your bodies to rhythm of the bass. Under the soft lights in the dark living room Liams light brown hair shined. Liams hands trailed up and down your hips, eventually turning you around pulling your back into his white t shirt and blue plaid covered chest feeling his muscles rippling against your back.

Leaning your head back onto his chest you ground your hips back into his and smirked. The alcohol coursing through your veins lending confidence to your dance moves as your began to grind with him in the middle of the other swaying dance partners crowding the space.

Another song came to a finish and you felt your body heating up tremendously. With a huff of air escaping your parted semi glossy lips, you knew you needed water and as Liams fingers grazed up your left thigh you excused yourself telling him you’d be right back but he had insisted on going with you.

Reaching the kitchen you looked for a clean empty cup to be the vessel that you needed to quench your thirst and hopefully cool your body down. Liam handed you an opaque red cup from the stack of downturned cups and you poured yourself some water from the fridge and took a long sip relishing in the fresh cool liquid cooling your body down and causing a small shiver.

“Hey can you pass me a coke from the fridge?” The taller man in font of you asked as you were closer to the fridge than he was and you nodded thinking nothing of it. Opening the metal fridge you looked around on the middle shelf before your eyes landed on the signature red cans, plucking one from the shelf you turned and stepped your way back to Liam, handing it to him which caused him to smile his pearly whites in return.

“Hold on, did he just drop something in y/ns glass?” Hanse voiced out while putting a black nail polished hand up in a stop motion after his eyes had zeroed in on the man in question drop something that looked like a small white circular pill into your drink. Earlier in the night Sejun had been talking to Hanse when they both noticed you dancing with Liam, he couldn’t quite place where he knew him from but after Hanse voiced what he had just seen, he remembered a girl he had hooked up with a couple of weeks ago said that after she had hooked up with Liam about a week prior. She had been looking for her shorts and found what looked like roofies on the floor in a bag under his bed. Sejun had asked why she didn’t report him to which she just shrugged and said Liam hadn’t done anything to her and she wasn’t sure that’s what they were so she wasn’t going to start trouble.

With a narrow of his eyes he peeled Tashas hand from around his torso and bounded off into the kitchen following Hanses fast steps towards your figure holding a red cup smiling up towards the tall figure in front of you.

——————————————

ANNNND chapter 1 is done! I’m going to try to update this pic every week but i can’t make any promises as i’m also writing a Jungkook Magic/au fic series.

I hope you enjoyed the read and pls let me know of any errors you come across as this is partially unedited and i don’t have a Beta reader or anything of the sort. ILY

-C/Potittiess

Hey can I request an angst FWB scenario with Yoongi or Jungkook like he's a complete fuckboy flirting with other girls in front of the reader and the reader ends things or ignores them you can decide the ending

It Ends With Us

Pairing: Fuckboy!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fwb, angst, no happy ending

Warnings: heavily suggestive (18+), curse words, jungkook’s a jerk but also sooo at the same time smh

Summary: You two were just friends with benefits, so why did it get to you so much?

-

You remember the day when Jungkook proposed the idea of you two being friends with benefits. You were a stressed student in college and needed to let loose sometimes. Luckily, you had Jungkook, who you met in your freshman year of college, to help you out.

You were kind of unsure about the idea, Jungkook being the biggest fuckboy of the century, but he was also a close friend to you, so you trusted him. Plus, with the deal, he promised he wouldn’t get in other girl’s pants since he proposed the idea and wanted to be fair with you.

Jungkook wasn’t the type to get into serious relationships. He would dick someone down and then move onto another the next day. You admit that you blossomed a small crush on him when you two first met, but after knowing what he was like and having your friends tell you about his fuckboy life, you decided to leave it alone, not wanting to get hurt.

Now, here you were, watching Jungkook shamelessly flirt with another girl right in front at you. You don’t know how you ended up here. One minute you were studying with your friend, Taehyung, next thing you know you’re dragged to this party hosted by Jimin, a friend of Tae’s and Jungkook.

You didn’t think Jungkook would be here, after he specifically texted you at 6:18pm that he couldn’t grab fro-yo with you since he had a “family thing”. Now, you know what that “family thing” was.

“What the fuck,” You whispered to yourself as you saw the girl Jungkook was with, laughing and feeling all up on him and his muscles, Jungkook doing nothing about it rather than enjoying the attention he was getting and having a hand squeezed on her ass.

Has he been doing this behind your back for awhile? You don’t know why you got so heated. You two were just friends with benefits, so why did it get to you so much? Even though, Jungkook promised that he wasn’t going to get into other girl’s pants, and you were 101% sure he was going to get into the girl he was with, pants, tonight due to how close they were.

Walking away and grabbing a random cup in the kitchen, you bumped into the person who dragged you to this party, Taehyung.

“Hey, you good?” He slurred, clearly drunk out of his mind.

“Fine,” You gave a short answer, “Are you good?” You asked, your anger subsiding a bit, giggling as you saw what state he was in.

“Yeah, man. I’m so lit right now!” Tae laughed, throwing his hands in the air and swinging his hips side to side, “Are you sure you’re good though? I can sense you’re a bit upset right now,”

You’re not sure why you’re upset, to be honest. Jungkook was a fuckboy, you should’ve seen this coming. Guess you were just too lost in the moment.

“I’m okay, thank you for asking though. Now, let’s get you seated and some water,” Taking Taehyung by the hand, you squeezed past the tight crowd and finally got to the sofa. You didn’t realize that you were just a few seats away from Jungkook, too occupied with Tae and taking care of him.

“Stay here. I’m gonna go get you some water,” You shouted out to Tae over the loud music, which he just nodded in response, already falling asleep.

You stood up, turning around when you spotted Jungkook and the girl he was with, in a full on heated makeout. That quickly spiked up your anger, making you feel betrayed and lied to.

“What the fuck is this?!” You shouted to Jungkook, letting your emotions take over you.

He parted from the girl he was with, shocked to find you here. “Y/N, baby- what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here? Mr “sorry babe, won’t be able to grab fro-yo with u. Got a family thing tonight. I’ll see u this wknd tho”. Why would you lie to me?” You continue to shout, feeling more and more anger bubble up inside of you.

“Jungkook, who is this?” The random girl ask, leaning into his side.

“Oh fuck off,”

“Y/N- stop. Why are you getting so worked up for?” Jungkook asked calmy, seeing no problem to this.

“So worked up for? What the fuck do you mean, Jungkook? You know we had a deal going on, yet here you are, sucking some other girl face,”

“Babe-”

“No, fuck you,” You spit, “And fuck you too,” You said to the girl before turning around and walking out of the party.

-

Walking home, you were overthinking like crazy. Why did you act that way to Jungkook? You didn’t like him, did you? No, you agreed on that a long time ago, so why did it hurt so bad to see him with another girl? Feeling embarrassed and tired, you decided to sleep these thoughts off, wanting to be at peace.

The next morning, you woke up to a spam of texts.

y/n ??

princess

i’m sorry

don’t ignore me pls

let’s meet up and talk

i messed up

i’m coming over

The last message was sent at 9:20am, and as you checked the time, it was now 9:32am.

Right as you got out of bed, you heard your doorbell ring with pounds on the door.

“Y/N?? Are you in there? Open up and let’s talk, please,” Jungkook said behind the door.

Once again, your emotions got to the best of you, resulting in you opening the door.

“Baby, I was worried sick about you,” He sighed in relief, attacking you in a tight hug.

Your arms stayed still, “What are you doing here, Jungkook?” You huffed, angry once again as you think about last night.

“I missed you. I also came to say I’m sorry. That girl means nothing to me, I promise,”

“Yeah, right. You also promised me that you wouldn’t be sticking your dick in other girls, yet what I saw last night proved me wrong,”

“C’mon, Y/N. You know you’re my only girl,” Jungkook whispered onto your skin as he started leaving small kisses down your neck.

“Fuck,” You softly moaned, closing your eyes and leaning back, exposing your neck more.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” He smirked, leaving marks all over your neck as he slid his right arm under your shirt and started playing with your tits.

“N-no, Jungkook, we can’t,” You sighed in pleasure, trying to push him off.

“Shhh, just enjoy it,”

“N-no. Stop, Jungkook. Stop!” You shout, pushing him away from you.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Jungkook raised his voice, breathing heavily.

“My problem?! What the fuck is yours? You can’t just makeout with some random girl at a party and then come to me the next day,” You glared at him.

“Well I’ve been doing it for awhile, what’s the problem now?”

You felt your breath get caught in your throat.

“No, you don’t mean that,” Tears started to form in your eyes, why were you going to start crying now?

“Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t catch on,” He chuckled, shaking his head lightly.

Your whole body was shaking in anger at this point. You just wanted to slap the smirk off his pretty face.

“So, you were just using me? I thought you were my friend, Jungkook,”

“Oh, baby… you were just another girl,” Jungkook whispered as he took your face into his hands, that same smug smirk still plastered on his pretty face.

“Fuck you!” You shouted, pushing him away from you once again. “Get out! Get out and never talk to me again. You’re a fucking jerk!”

With that, Jungkook left, leaving you nothing but a broken heart.

It Starts With Us

— Second Part To “It Ends With Us”

Pairing: Fuckboy! Jungkook x Reader x Taehyung

Genre: fwb, regrets, angst, jealousy, fluff

Warnings: cursing, someone kisses someone … lowkey physical fight 🫣

Summary: You find love within another mans’ arms and Jungkook tries to get you back. Does he or does he not succeed?

A/N: Was listening to “The Other Woman” by mother Lana and decided to finish this bc I’m going crazy.

-

It’s been approximately two weeks ever since the fight between Jungkook and you have never felt worse. You eventually came to conclusion that maybe you did like Jungkook after having a five hour talk with your best friend, Taehyung.

Taehyung’s been so supportive after your fight with Jungkook, wanting to do nothing but go to his dorm and beat the living shit out of him for hurting his best friend, you. Although he felt bad for what happened, a part of him wanted to tell you “I told you so” when you told him about the deal you had going on with Jungkook. But of course, being the sweet and supportive best friend he is, decided to keep his mouth shut. It was better that way anyways.

You eventually started going out and communicating again with other people (other than your best friend) after the third week rolled around. You didn’t want to feel this heartbreak anymore, so you decided enough was enough and got out of your dorm.

“Tae, these strawberries are literally rotten!” You sigh in annoyance. You had asked Taehyung to go grocery shopping with you, wanting to spend time with him.

You weren’t going to lie, you’ve become so much closer to Tae after he had stayed with you these past two and a half weeks that you just wanted to be around him all the time. You guys were close before, but now the bond just seems so much closer.

“My bad,” He chuckled, ruffling your hair.

“Hey! Stop that, but seriously, let’s pick out some new strawberries,” You pout, already walking over to the strawberry area.

“How about the-,” You couldn’t finish your sentence before colliding into someone’s chest.

“Y/N?” The voice you thought you’d never hear ever again.

“J-Jungkook- what are you doing here?” You panicked, looking anywhere but his face.

“I was shopping for some banana milk and I saw you- listen, Y/N, I want to talk to you, please,” Jungkook begged, taking ahold of your hands.

“What? No! I don’t want to talk to you,” You exclaimed, pulling your hands away harshly, turning around and walking back to wherever Tae was.

“Please- Y/N, I want to make things bet-,”

“Leave her alone, Jungkook. She said she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Tae interrupted, stepping in front of you before Jungkook could grab you.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked, getting jealous seeing you out with other men.

“Her best friend. Now, I said it once and I’m not going to say it again. Leave her the fuck alone or I will literally beat your motherfucking ass,”

Jungkook looked at you with pleading eyes, but you looked away, not wanting to fall for this trap again.

“Fine, whatever. Y/N, please, call me and let’s talk about everything,” He sighed, shaking his head before turning around and walking away.

“Thank you, oh my gosh,” You breathed in relieved, wrapping your arms around Tae tightly.

“I’m your best friend. I’m supposed to protect you, no need to thank me at all,” He smiled, hugging you back just as tight.

From far away, Jungkook watched the interaction between you two. Jealousy builded up inside his chest as his nose flared and clenched his jaw.

-

“Okay, I think we watched every movie out there. Can we do something else now?” Taehyung groaned, stretching out his sore and tired limbs.

“We’ve literally only watched two movies, grandpa,” You laughed, snuggling closer to Tae without noticing.

“So? I’m bored now and hungry,”

You hummed, looking up at your best friend, “Hey… thanks again for being there for me these past few weeks,”

“What did I say about you thanking me? I’m your best friend, Y/N, of course I’ll always be there for you,”

“Best friend or not, just thank you. I really appreciate you, Tae,” You smiled up at him, your face and body warm from being this close to him.

“Anything for my best friend,” He replied, looking down at you with a soft smile.

You hadn’t realized how pretty Taehyung was until you studied his face just now. The slow breathing between you two as you looked into each other’s eyes. You saw him look down to your lips before looking back up to your eyes.

“You’re really pretty,” You whispered out loud, unaware that you just did, “I mean-,”

“You’re really pretty too,”

You felt your breath get stuck in your throat. You? Pretty? In Taehyung’s eyes?

Tae started inching closer to you. You could feel his minty breath on your lips as your heart pounded a hundred beats in your chest. He was so close, so clo-

“I’m back!” Your roommate bursted into your room.

“Y/RM/N!” You squeaked, pushing tae away and getting up from your bed, “I- I didn’t expect you to be back so soon! Hey,”

Breathing heavily, you tried to catch your breath as she giggled at you, looking between you and tae.

“Was I interrupting something?” She asked.

“N-No!”

“Yes,”

“Tae!” You shot your head to him with glared eyes.

He shrugged with a smug look on his face.

“Anyways, of course I’m back. I’ve been away for almost four weeks now!” Your roommate laughed, coming over to you to give you a hug.

“Well, welcome back, roomie,” You sighed contently after catching your breath then hugging her back.

“I gotta go unpack, so I’ll leave you two to whatever you were doing,” She wiggled her eyebrows, pulling away and walking out your room.

“Y/RM/N!”

You could hear her giggling as she walked away from your door and then into hers.

You sighed out heavily before looking at your best friend who is still in your bed, snickering at you.

“So not funny, tae!” You groaned, getting back into bed with him.

“You’re so cute,” He chuckled, pulling you closer to him.

“Shut up,” You mumbled, blushing hard as you tried to hide away from him.

“Hey, look at me, Y/N,”

You slowly looked up to your best friend, and before you could even blink, his lips were on yours, kissing you so soft as if you were a delicate glass. You stilled for a second, shocked before closing your eyes and kissing Taehyung back.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” He breathed out after pulling away so the two of you could get air.

The news had you shocked. You never knew your best friend felt this way about you. “Really?” You ask in disbelief.

“Yes. How are you this oblivious?”

“Well I mean- I just- I never thought-,”

“Why do you think I spent every waking moment with you these past weeks when I could have support you from afar, Y/N?”

You hummed contently, looking at your beautiful best friend before giving him a few pecks.

-

After that night, Taehyung have taken you out on many dates, but he hasn’t popped the question yet. You didn’t mind though, he was taking things slow and you liked that.

The two of you were out shopping for some new shoes, “Baby, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go see if they have this in my shoe size,” Tae said, leaning down and giving you a kiss before walking away to find a worker.

You nodded, smiling as you continued to walk around and look for shoes yourself.

“What the fuck was that?” You heard someone ask out of nowhere as they pulled you around.

“Jungkook? Get off of me!” You exclaimed, backing away from him.

“You’re seeing other men?!” He said angrily, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What the fuck are you talking about? That has nothing to do with you,” You scoffed.

“Yes it does. You’re mine, Y/N,” Jungkook growled, pulling your arm tightly.

“Stop! Jungkook! You’re hurting me,” You wince in pain, trying to pride Jungkook’s hands off of you.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” You hear Tae furiously say as he pushes Jungkook in the chest.

“None of your fucking business,” Jungkook replies as he swings his arm, landing a punch on Tae’s jaw.

“You fucking-,” Taehyung couldn’t even finish his sentence before he threw a punch back, making Jungkook’s nose bleed.

Before you knew it, they were going at it.

“Tae! Stop!” You shouted, pulling him away.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I regret everything. I want to be with you. You can’t lie and say that you didn’t feel anything for me during our deal. Please,” Jungkook pleaded, stopping you from walking away with Tae.

“Jungkook-,”

“I love you, Y/N. What I felt for you, I have never felt for anyone before. Give me a chance. I can be better for you, I will be better for you,”

“If you think that I would ever give you a chance after what you said to me, then you’re a fucking fool, Jungkook. I deserve better after everything you’ve put me through,” You spit out each word nastily.

“I-I-,”

“Goodbye, Jungkook. Please, for the sake of both of us, just leave me alone. What we had is over,” Shaking your head, you left with Taehyung. This time, leaving Jungkook nothing but a broken heart.

As Jungkook watched you walk away with another man, he regretted every stupid decision he made when he still had you.

taglist: @borahaeb1ch @hiqhkey @purplewhales @andrea-lovesv @njslut @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @generalchopshopgoatee @thelilbutifulthings @magicshop-13 @betysotelo18 ty for the support <3

—hot boy bummer. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut  

⟶ words: 14,633

⟶ rating: 18+ 

⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?

⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink

⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook​ and @onherwings​ for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛

( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )

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→ pu$$y fairy — a jeongguk scenario 02

member: jeon jungkook

word count: 4.2k

genre: smut + college!au + jeongguk and oc are in a weird fwbs without the friendship part just the benefits except jaykay lowkey has feelings + virginity au

warnings: virgin!oc / oral sex (fem receiving) / jaykay best coochie eater / oc is strange / jaykay is confused / there r emotions and propositions because of said emotions!! / first times / not really edited / mingyu the meddling best fwend part two :3

soundtrack: stargazing, the neighbourhood + body, summer walker

part one 

Jeongguk has not been able to get you out of his mind since your last fateful meeting. The memories linger like a stain on precious fabric, sinking through thread and leaving a blight that can be spotted from a mile away. His overeager thoughts have left him sensitive, acutely aware of your sudden presence. He spies you constantly in the lunch hall, laughing bold and unabashed with your friends, a brightness on your features that travels straight to his heart. Sometimes you rush past him in the hallways, late to your lectures, the wind sweeping the skirts you donned often upward. That had sent him for a small spiral, the fact that you loved wearing skimpy little things despite your coy nature. He hadn’t picked a favourite yet, but the blush pink and floral patterned skirts were contesting for number one unbeknownst to you. Once, he’d attempted a meek greeting, partially surprised by his timidness. But you had just brushed him off, one flash of your radiant smile before you scampered away. He’d mentioned it to Mingyu one drunken evening, unable to keep your name from slurring off his tongue. His heart twisted funny in his chest when he described your reluctance towards him, throat tight as the words squeezed themselves out. The response he’d received knocked him off his unstable feet, legs sinking onto the pavement below, the glowing amber street above lights blurring.

“Why do you care?” Mingyu had slurred, slumping down beside him. 

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CHEMISTRY | MASTERLIST

DRABBLE SERIES, TONS OF SHORT LITTLE CHAPTERS. WILL BE UPDATED OFTEN CAUSE HOSEOK IS THE #1 SOURCE OF MY PAIN

Pairing: Hoseok / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: FWB, university AU

Warnings: cursing, lots of alcohol and some weed, future smut, incredibly hot Hoseok

Word Count: TBA (series of short drabbles) 

Summary: After a few years of being immune to Jung Hoseok’s charms, you suddenly fall into them, head first. All it takes is one night, too much alcohol and a lot of balls. 

PART 1 - CLOSER 

PART 2 - RUN 

PART 3 - ONE KISS

PART 4 - NEW RULES

PART 5 - LET’S TALK ABOUT SEX

catharsis.

↳ no matter what kind of release you need, he’s there.

◇ jungkook x reader | ft. pjm ◇ smut | college!au | fwb!au  ◇ 23.5k [1/1]

notes: i don’t have a good explanation for this. i’m comprised of exactly 0% chill and i really wanted to write a jikook threesome, so here it is ft. too much plot and a whole lotta whipped kook, lmao. quick shoutout to @puellaigmotum, who has been supporting me and calling me out on my shit in equal measure during this process. thanks for listening to me ramble and making me suffer with pictures/gifs of the rude fucker aka jeon jungkook - i do appreciate it ♡

also, please read this on a computer if you’re able! the keep reading cut doesn’t always show up, and this fic can and will freeze the mobile app, believe me, lmao.

warnings: switch!jjk, kinda sleazy jimin, oral, slight overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, masturbation, sexting, threesome (mfm), mild cumplay? who really knows!

Of two things, you are certain.

The first—and undoubtedly the most pressing—is that finals week is going to be the death of you. Tearing your gaze from the chemistry book on your desk, you flop down ungracefully onto your bed for a well-deserved break, extending one hand to rummage around the crumpled blankets for your phone.

The second—and really, you’re counting on this—is that Jeon Jungkook’s dick is going to keep you sane until graduation. Over the past year, you’ve called on each other so often that you don’t even have to scroll down in your text messages to find his name. A few clicks and a simple come over later, you throw your phone down and release a long, heavy breath before letting your eyes slide shut.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, because you jolt awake to the sound of someone knocking. With a groan, you drag yourself to your feet and pad over to the front door, throwing it open to reveal one exceptionally rumpled Jeon Jungkook, his chest heaving.

You raise an appraising brow. “What, did you fucking run over here?”

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