#BAD DECISIONS ••

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #61] Jinxing It

warnings: (1) mention of toe socks, chess talk, showers, a lil bit of titty luvin, lots of kisses, oral (f&m), fingering, ass play (m), whimpery koo <3, a lil cum swapping, the starluvrs are v cute!!! lots of lil clues and hints about upcoming chapters!!

a/n: there's an authors note over on a03 so I'll you spare you my nonsense! but hi, welcome back!! sorry for the wait on this one <33 if you're only just discovering bd, hello---this is part of an on-going story and includes an established relationship, to be read in context with the rest of the story, it's not a oneshot ^^. for kofi subs, there'll be a BD 62 teaser in a few hours!

wc: 13.7K

bd total wc: 560k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Life dissolves with Jeongguk. Days merge into one. 

Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time melts.

So does Jeongguk, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. You’d go as far to say he turns into a supernova, like stars often do when they collapse. 

He lets himself merge into a shared identity that he’s certain isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship.

Two weeks from the auction, and days have rolled on by without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jeongguk’s had meetings with realtors, Yoongi by his side every step of the way. Everything has happened without much thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jeongguk’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way. 

You spent so long fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jeongguk’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost .

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him. 

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter. 

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jeongguk. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jeongguk is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can have him.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds you of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can .”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jeongguk nods. 

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend . You’re supposed to help .”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. He also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look. 

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat. 

Jeongguk is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jeongguk. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you never to play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get an all-access pass.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him. 

He nods. 

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him—just trusting that he’s a bullshitter. 

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your King, and preventing Jeongguk from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made. 

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but— fuck —he’ll never understand your brain.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check. 

Mate .

Groaning, you realise what's happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There's no way Jeongguk actually enjoys this. 

"Not again," you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jeongguk's ceiling. It's without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

"B," Jeongguk laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You'll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, "What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king."

"I tried!" You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

"You left him wide open for me to take!"

"You could have gone easy on me!"

"I was!" He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. "I swear you didn't listen to a single thing I told you—"

"I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place," you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn't deserve niceties in times like this.

He'd argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against his throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. "I'll make you a deal."

"Go on."

"Strip chess."

"Pervert."

"For every move you make, I'll take an item of clothing off," he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a (toe)sock on either foot, and underwear — that's only five moves, but then again, Jeongguk normally has your king trapped by that point.

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

"I'm always trying to get you naked, B," he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. "So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?"

"What happens if I take out one of your pieces?"

"If you do that," he hums, as if he's contemplating it. "I'll let you do that goddamn paper plane you wanna try out so bad."

Instantly, you sit up, like a puppy with a treat being teased in front of its snout. Your eyes are wide, smile incredulous. 

It's been a while since Jeongguk made those paper planes in your bedroom. Only one has ever been done, and quite frankly, you think it might have been the catalyst to your friendship's demise, because how you could ever go back to 'just friends' afterwards was beyond you. 

It's not like you didn't try to remain totally neutral about cock warming with him, but the way your heart swells whenever you do it now just goes to show how your bodies were made for one another. Like a turning of tides, or the cyclical rising and falling of the sun to make way for the moon, it's just as nature intended. He was made for you, and you him.

With a glint in your eye, you lean over to the chess board and swipe up one of his pawns at random. With a gasp, and a smile twitching at your lips, you exclaim, "Oh look! I won!"

"B," he laughs, but your expression remains entirely serious despite the light nature of it all.

"Lemme fuck your ass," You grin now, pleading ever so softly. "A deal is a deal."

"You didn't win."

"Says who?"

"Anyone who has ever played chess?"

"I've played, and I think I won. C'mon," you grin, positioning yourself on his lap. The chess piece is still in your hands as you lean down to nudge your nose up against his. "Face down, ass up for me, baby."

"You're in my way," he says.

"You could throw me across the room if you wanted to. I'm not stopping you."

"And I'm not throwing you across the room."

"Please," you pathetically beg.

"You really it want it, don't you?" He grins against your lips. "Huh?"

"Just wanna make you feel good."

"You always make me feel good," Jeongguk whispers, quietly deflecting the real reason why he hasn't let you do it yet. 

Truth be told, Jeongguk is a little scared. 

While yes, he's always been curious about pegging, he's never taken it that far before. Has never had the tools, shall we say, to explore by himself, and none of his exes or flings ever seemed too interested in it.

He wants it. Wants it with you. Just doesn't know how he'll react. Doesn't know what his body will do. Worries that things will take a turn for the worse and that you'll be so repulsed by him that you'll never want to have sex with him again, or that maybe he'll like it too much and that it'll be all he ever wants and it'd ruin just how good things are at the moment. 

His thoughts distract him as your lips press feathery kisses against the thick column of his neck. Something about you, and how delicate you can be, just makes him melt into your touch. His hands come to clutch your hair, a pretty little smile forming on his lips. 

"You don't have to do this," he quietly says, nails lightly scratching at your scalp. Your lips graze against his skin, before he gently pulls you back by the root of your hair. The sensation makes you want him even more than you already do. There's a love-drunk look of lust to your darling eyes, all glittery like they so often are as you look at him. 

Reaching to cup his jaw, you marvel at how a man who looks like him can be as tender as he is. The world would give him permission to break hearts, if he wanted it, but he doesn't. All he seems to want is to adore, and be adored in return—and how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of it.

A slight guilt settles in your stomach. You know he'd give you the world if you asked for it, but he isn't giving you this. 

"I'm only teasing," you tell him, which isn't strictly true. You do wanna do it, but your incessant begging is what you're joking about. It's not like you'll die if you can't fuck his ass (maybe). "I'll respectfully stay out of your ass unless requested otherwise."

He shakes his head. Laughs. Kisses you, 'cause he just can't help himself, then pulls you down into the sheets with him. "I give it a day until you're asking again."

Secretly, he wants you to ask again. It doesn't feel like pressure. Feels like validation; as if you want this even more than he does.

The thing is, you can't say no to a challenge. "Wanna bet?"

No. 

But he can't resist either. "You're on."

Yoongi stands with his shoulders pressed to glass front door, keys looped on his fingers. The streets in this area are always quiet until the evening, minor hustle and bustle from delivery drivers dropping off stock to businesses down the alley disturbing the peace. 

A small hotteok stall sits lopsided, supported by the building's exterior wall, red tarpaulin covering it from the weather and any inquisitive eyes. An elderly man runs it during the weekends, but for the rest of the week, it sits derelict. It's an eyesore, to say the least. Not the kind of thing that screams 'hot new restaurant' to anyone walking by.

It's as Yoongi's contemplating how to solve this problem, figuring the stallhand probably had an agreement with the previous owners, when Jeongguk comes into his line of vision. He tweaks a brow in Jeongguk's direction, almost as if to ask: what time do you call this?

Jeongguk's right on time. It's not a minute past twelve, which is exactly the time Yoongi told him to arrive. 

Sale finalised, paperwork complete, Yoongi got given the keys this morning. It's a done deal. The building is his, and in turn, the restaurant is Jeongguk���s. 

Despite his nonchalance, when Yoongi sees Jeongguk grin, he can't help but smile too.

"Shut up," Yoongi tells him. "We're serious businessmen. Don't get giggly with me."

"I'm not!" Jeongguk laughs, hands up in defence, until Yoongi puts his own hand out for Jeongguk to shake. Naturally, Jeongguk uses Yoongi's hand to pull him in for a hug instead. Patting his back, Jeongguk is almost fighting the urge to cry. He's waited so long for this. Worked so hard. Doesn't think any of it would be possible without Yoongi, but Yoongi would disagree.

"You better make the best fuckin' samgyeopsal this city has ever seen," Yoongi threatens with all the love in the world, breaking from the hug. Passing over the keys, he nods towards the doors. "Do us the honours."

Yoongi is fatherly in the way he never takes the glory for himself. Will be the kind of dad to build a lego castle and let his kid put the flag in place at the end of his labour. 

Jeongguk doesn't mention it, but he's noticed the way Seoyeon has been the designated driver for the past few weeks; how she didn't drink at auction, and how Yoongi's been even more attentive than he usually is. 

Could be nothing at all. Could just be a change in the weather.

But it could mean everything, and Jeongguk knows better than to intrude before being welcomed in on the news. 

Pushing the key into the lock, Jeongguk is quietly enamoured with the fact the premises has a lock and key instead of the typical keypad locks that are usually in place. The metal grates against itself as he twists the lock open, and pushes the door open. 

There's a separate side entrance for access to the upper floors. 

The floors Jeongguk intends to be the restaurant already have a connecting staircase towards the back of the room, which will make it infinitely easier for staying out of Yoongi's hair whenever he's in the workshop.

In the light of day, the furniture from the previous owners now removed, it's so much easier for Jeongguk to envisage how everything will look; where the signage will hang, where the bar will go, and, most importantly, where the disco balls will hang.

"It's really happening," he exhales, as if he hadn't realised it at any earlier stage in the process.

Yoongi doesn't berate him. Instead, he takes a deep breath, too. Nods. "It's really happening."

Though he smiles, Jeongguk wishes he had a hand to hold as tightly as his lips press together. Wishes you were here. Knows you're busy with work, making up hours to account for the fact you'll have some time off at the end of the week for your interview at the Ryu.

Why you need an interview is beyond him. He thinks they're being ridiculous. Thinks that even entertaining the idea of hiring someone else is an insult. Got so wound up about it, ranting to Jimin while he was making dinner, that he burned his sauce a couple of nights ago. Is now on a talking while cooking ban. Jimin says Jeongguk can't be trusted to multitask. Jeongguk says Jimin is a little prick.

The day is lost to making plans; sketches drawn up on Jeongguk's ipad, discussions with Yoongi about how to go about getting liscences for the premises, and back and forth over what should be done with the top two floors.

The idea of Taehyung using the fourth floor as a studio is considered, but both of them know how much he adores his current place. 

"Think he'd live there, if he could," Yoongi muses picking up a slice of napjak mandu with his chopsticks, dipping it into the tteokbokki sauce. They'd ordered from the place near his current workshop, and it makes him lament the idea of leaving it behind. 

Perhaps he can keep them both. Use the smaller space as his own little sanctuary, and the third floor here as his public-facing premises. Might be a bit of a waste, but if he can afford the rent, then why not?

"Tell you what," Yoongi hums as he swallows down his food. "If you don't add something like this to the menu, I'm kicking you out."

"I'll put it on the secret menu," Jeongguk offers, knowing that it definitely won't be what he offers to punters. He makes a mean tteokbokki, but it doesn't fit the vision of what he wants for this place. "Well, what about Jimin? He could start up his own interior place, if he wants. He's got the money for it, and I know the office he's in at the moment has been stifling him. Lost out on, like, three big commissions in the last quarter because the boss went with some other prick's ideas. Jimin's wasted there."

Yoongi hums in agreement as he swallows down his food. "We could always get him to help out with the design of this place. I reckon he knows all the tricks for good energy."

Nodding, Jeongguk laughs. Picks up another rice cake and chows down on it as he adds, "Should have seen him when we moved into our current place. Man had a compass out to align a sofa with the right energy."

"Sounds about right," Yoongi grins, resting his chopsticks back down against the edge of the bowl. "Well, what about your missus, then? Would she want gallery space? Somewhere for curation?"

Jeongguk chokes on his rice cake, and it's not because of the spice. 

"She's not my missus—" he corrects, but then decides he doesn't want to "—at least, not yet. And she's got a big interview with The Ryu this week. I'm not sure opening her own gallery is on her agenda, but I can put the feelers out—and like… I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much? We spend so much time together, already. She'd get sick of me if I was working two floors below."

"Would you get sick of her?"

"Don't be stupid. No."

"Exactly," Yoongi says as if it's obvious—which, in all fairness, he thinks it is. "The pair of you are in a perpetual honeymoon phase."

Jeongguk shakes his head, as if he isn't beaming. "Shut up. Just got a good thing going—and hey, you're hardly one to talk. How's Seoyeon?"

"Good, yeah," Yoongi nods, but doesn't divulge any further. As much as Jeongguk is dying to ask, he holds back. "She wants you all round for dinner soon, so expect an invite in the group chat."

"For any reason?" Jeongguk baits Yoongi, cause he just can't help himself.

Unlucky for him, Yoongi is as stoic as can be. "You know Seo. She loves any excuse for a dinner party. Has started making her own pasta and I think she wants tasters."

"B makes a mean pasta," Jeongguk says, because his thoughts so often wind back to you, and he just can't help himself. "I'm sure she'll be buzzing to try Seoyeons."

A sense of pride washes over Yoongi's features. "Gah, when did you grow up, Jeongguk? Practically married, aren't you?"

Dismissive in how he shakes his head, Jeongguk can't help but let a bashful smile grow on his face. The soft lights overhead glimmer down him, putting those stars Jeongguk adores so much right back in his eyes. He'll never get rid of you. Will eternally carry the evidence of how utterly smitten he is.

Should you ever leave him, Jeongguk thinks he'd simply die of a broken heart. Wouldn't know how to walk if it weren't in the direction of you. Would stumble and fall until he inevitably wound up back at your door like a wounded puppy.

So perahps Yoongi is right. Maybe it would make sense to offer you the space—but you've got your own agenda. Your own dreams. Jeongguk can't just entrap you in his.

The thing is, once your shift is up, and you're heading to the restaurant premises to see Jeongguk, you can't help but feel like this is a dream come true for you. 

His ambition and drive have rubbed off on you; encouraged you up a career path you once thought was overgrown with thorns and rubble. Has shown you that all you need is a little bit of elbow grease and a pair of secateurs to go after what you want. 

It's dark by the time you arrive. Lights from the other establishments flood the streets, but the blinds are closed on the restaurant for a little privacy. A handwritten 'under new management' sign is taped to the front door in Jeongguk's signature penstroke. A little smiley face accents it; a show of how he feels, you presume. 

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you dial through to him, 'cause you've no idea how to get in, nor if he's even actually there. The building is just on the way home from the art cafe, and you'd left Jeongguk's place that morning to a very smiley boyfriend instead of his usual 'don't go' pout, so you figure he's spent all day busy with exciting plans.

"Sorry, not interested," Jeongguk's voice purrs through the speaker, as if you're some kind of cold-calling saleswoman with nothing half-decent to offer him. 

"What if I told you I'm outside the restaurant and that I'm naked under my clothes?"

"Aren't we all naked under our clothes?"

"Just open the door," you grin down the phone as he comes into view through the glass doors. 

He's got the kind of look on his face that you'd expect: pouty lips with heavy-lidded eyes. Softening ever so slightly when he notices the bunch of wildflowers poking out from the tote bag you've got hooked over your shoulder, his eyes are incapable of ever hiding his true feelings. 

Mild confusion ( did someone get you flowers?) dismissed with easy understanding—they're from the stall he always buys you flowers from, so he knows you got them yourself.

It's very conflicting to adore you and to also want to fuck you into next Tuesday, but it garners you a gaze nobody else is ever lucky enough to receive from him. You cherish it. Think about it near-constantly whenever he's not by your side.

"You're a terrible saleswoman," he scolds so softly it feels like praise.

"And yet here you are, answering the door for me," you shrug with a knowing smile, sure that'd he take whatever you sold him. Would buy sand, water, air from you. Would let you swindle him. 

"And yet here I am."

Hanging up, you mouth 'open it' through the door, and he does as he's told—kind of.

Blocking the now half-open door, he childishly asks, "What's the password?"

"I love you?"

"Ew. Gross. Get a room. No."

"Fuck you.”

"Not the password either, but I'm more than willing."

"Ew. Gross," you imitate him, gagging a little for an extra immaturity. "Hmm… Byeol is the best?"

"Ddaeng."

"Jimin sucks?"

"Ddaeng… but I approve. Good guess."

"Gimme a hint."

"It's the name of the restaurant."

The confidence that comes with the restaurant being his now is nothing short of a miracle. He's so certain of everything these days, in a way he never was before—but why shouldn't he? He got the girl. Got the dream. There's nothing he can't do. Statistically, he's two for two. A winner by all counts. A gold medalist in his very own Olympics.

"You've never told me what you want to name it!" You protest with a whine, thinking he's being entirely unfair.

It's not like you haven't asked a million times over. He's just been keeping it underwraps. Was scared that speaking it into existence would jinx it. Would refuse with a coy grin, and assurance that he'd reveal it soon enough.

Truth be told, Jeongguk's gone back and forth over names. It's probably changed ten times since he's known you, but then you said something at the fundraising auction, and everything sort of clicked into place. 

A name was coined and it wouldn't stop embossing itself into Jeongguk's dreams; the branding, the signage, everything. A new vision of what he wanted spawned like lava onto a mountainside. You sparked a volcano he didn't even realise existed, and it's solidified into molten rock. 

"I'll cut you a deal," you offer, knowing that you'll never get it and he'll never ease. Shrugging your shoulder to gesture towards the bag, you begin your enticement. "I've got cold beer and hot burgers from that place you like down the road. They're all yours in you let me in—if not, I'm going home and Danbi will—"

"Say no more," Jeongguk pushes the door open and grabs your hand, pulling you into the vacant restaurant with him. The door clicks close behind you, and Jeongguk spins you around so that you're stood infront of him, facing the large room. Arms wrapping around your waist, Jeongguk rests his chin on your shoulder, gently pressing a kiss to your neck. "Welcome in."

It's a lot to take in all at once. The room stands empty, save for the camping chairs and table Yoongi and Jeongguk had coversed around earlier, Jeongguk's ipad resting on the table with a low battery warning on the dimly lit screen. There's paperwork scattered on the surface—old utilities letters that they were using to sort out the new bills—and a bag of trash tied up on the floor from their lunch.

"I don't smell burgers," Jeongguk mumbles against your neck.

"I was lying."

"You've no shame."

Turning your head, you let him raise his nose to yours, a feathery kiss greeting your lips. 

Whenever your doe-eyed boy greets you like this, you always feel a bit like snow white; as if a dozen tiny creatures will flock to you and bestow their love upon you.

It'd be fruitless, mind you, for none of them could even come close to how deeply Jeongguk adores you. He'd sit in the corner, jealous and bratty as they fawned over you. Would hate not being the object of your affection. Would strop until your focus was back on him.

"I'll order some," you promise, but Jeongguk shakes his head. 

"Won't be here much longer. We can pick some up on the way home."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, baby," he tenderly whispers, punctuating himself with a slightly firmer kiss, before pulling away from you. Walking into the middle of the room, he holds out his arms. Grins. "Welcome."

"It's a pleasure," you grin, freely stepping into the space now, looking around with awestruck eyes knowing that this is his . "Holy shit, Gguk."

"Yeah," he agrees with your sentiment. "Mad, innit?"

"Just a little."

When you think back to the Jeongguk you first met—the one who spent hours upon hours studying for his exams, all the while working at the bar of an admittedly shitty club—you can't help but feel overwhelmed with pride. He worked himself to the bone for his dreams. 

The space is large enough for Jeongguk to go wild with it. There's no end to his possibilities. He's got an arsenal of weapons in his back pocket in the form of his friends—Yoongi can fit the place out, Jimin can help with the design work, Taehyung can make a central art piece, and Namjoon can get it featured in the paper. Of course, he won't take advantage of his access to them, but knowing how willing his friends always are to help out, it's kind of like a no-brainer. He's got all the tools needed for success.

"And right here," he points up, standing in the middle of a square marked out with tape on the floor. It's large and in the centre of the room—the intended space for a central bar and banchan preparation spot, flipping the conventions of traditional barbecue places on their heads. Wants the food to quite literally be at the heart of the restaurant. "Is where the disco balls will be."

For a second, you think you miss-hear him, but the way his smiles grows when confronted with your confusion only proves you heard perfectly fine.

Sitting on one of the camping chairs Yoongi and Jeongguk had set up earlier, you've been watching him talk you through his vision for the place. It sounds incredible—just like him, but in restaurant version. 

"Is that not a health and safety hazard?" You giggle, desperate to get up and stand with him, but feeling the need to maintain distance. He's having his moment. He doesn't need a shared stage—and yet here he is, announcing that the very embodiment of you will be centre stage for the foreseeable. 

Jeongguk shrugs. "Haven't thought that far ahead. There's gonna be disco balls here whether they like it or not, though."

Realistically, if the health and safety inspectors tell him no disco balls, there'll be no disco balls—but he won't be happy about it. Will be pouty. You both know he's just being facetious, and that he'll comply with whatever is asked of him. 

"It's my restaurant, baby," he reminds you, holding out his hands, cause he wants you closer. Naturally, you do ass requested, and join him in his square. His arm slips around your waist, a kiss firmly being pressed to your forehead before your chin leans on his chest. Looking up at him, it's a wonder that you're able to have conversations that last more than a single back and forth. A miracle, even. "I can do what I want."

There's something so incredibly sexy about this cocksure arrogance. He's not the same guy you met back in the confines of Dionysus, and while you adored him back then, you adore him even more now.

"You're sexy when you talk business," you hum, as his hand dip a little further south to squeeze your ass. "Home?"

He nods, a pretty smile hanging off his lips. "Mine or yours?"

"Yours is closer," you tell him, pulling away, linking your fingers with his as you do so, dragging him with you. Hooking your bag up over your shoulder, you're reminded of the flowers. "Oh—these are for you, by the way."

Passing them over, you're not surprised by his confusion.

"For me?"

The bunch of wildflowers looked pretty big in your hands, but remarkably small in his. You have to make a considered effort to not groan. 

"Mhmm," you nod with a sweet smile. "A congratulations."

Jeongguk's head pushes back a little into his neck, shoulders broadening as his smile forms. He quickly tilts his head to the side and then back again in the way he often does whenever his brain is processing something new. 

"Never had flowers before."

"Nice, isn't it?" You grin, knowing that nothing beats fresh flowers when it comes to small pockets of expressed admiration. 

With a bashful nod, Jeongguk feels like he should feel emasculated, but can't quite work out the way he actually does feel. All he knows is that he likes it. And that he wants to get home. And that he wants you in his bed. Naked, preferably. 

His thoughts dart back and forth to the last time you were in his room. Gets him hot. Blushing. 

Thankfully, you don't seem to notice—or if you do, you don't mention it. Why would you? It's cute. 

"What time is your interview tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks as he makes sure the door is locked behind you both. 

"One in the afternoon," you reply with a certain nonchalance, as if you're unphased, which Jeongguk knows is absolute bullshit. "Hobes said he'll work my shift if I buy him a month's supply of Sprite, so I've got, like, 48 cans arriving tomorrow."

He would have done it for free, but he's a tough bargainer and you're just an easy sell when it comes to making the people you care about happy.

"His blood will turn into sprite," Jeongguk laughs, linking his hand with yours once more as you head down the road to the nearest subway entrance. "How are you feeling about it? We can practise interview questions later, if you like."

Shaking your head, you smile. "It'll just make me nervous, and at the moment, I'm pretty calm about things. Thank you, though."

"Well, if you change your mind," Jeongguk reinforces the offer, before you redirect the conversation and get him babbling about the restaurant—projected timelines, contractors, suppliers. There's so much to do, and yet it doesn't feel overwhelming in the slightest. Not yet, at least.

With a pit stop at the burger place as promised, the journey home is effortless. Intrinsic by this point. 

Shoes off by the door, Jimin is out for a company dinner, so it's just the pair of you.

"Has he spoken with you about Nabi, yet?" You ask as you grab some condiments from the kitchen, while Jeongguk fills a vase with water.

"God, no," Jeongguk laughs. "He used to tease me all the time about you, but now he can't even look me in the eyes 'cause he's worried I'll ask about it. Idiot."

"He used to tease you? About me?" You hum, a little smug at this little snippet of information. 

"You know what he's like," Jeongguk reminds you, 'cause it's not like you've ever been spared from Jimin's teasing. "Doesn't know how to not be irritating. Character flaw. Think he was born that way."

Despite his annoying tendencies, Jimin is adored by pretty much everyone he meets. Jeongguk doesn't say such things to be mean, but rather because he views him like a sibling. 

"If anyone knows how to handle him, it's Nabi," you muse, thinking back to Pohang. "He'd have driven me insane organising the Jilympics."

"Don't call it that," Jeongguk smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is. Delicately arranging the flowers, Jeongguk's sense of perfectionism comes out once more. "He's a little narcissist. He'll sense his ego being inflated from miles away, and then his head won't be able to fit through doors." Tweaking a yellow flower to move it more centrally, Jeongguk shakes his head. "And to think the first time you were in this apartment—"

"Shut up," you groan, not wanting to be reminded of it. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Alright, Hannah Montana," Jeongguk teases you. "It's just kinda wild, isn't it? How everything has just worked itself out?"

"Don't," you say with a glint in your eye. "You'll jinx it."

Perhaps it's foolish—naive, even—but he doesn't think it's possible. Thinks that this is all set in stone. That your names have been etched on a cliffside somewhere, and that's where you'll remain forever more. 

He forgets that cliffs erode. That the weather is unpredictable, and life even more so. 

He's always been cautious. Reluctant of counting eggs.

But he’s hungry. Ravenous. The first at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Bites off more than he can chew. Chokes and splutters in the wake of it all, every single damn time.

It’s a flaw he’ll admit to having, but why can’t vices be virtues? Why can’t he be optimistic? Why shouldn’t he hope for the best? He spent so long living in a perpetual state of fear, and it never did him any good. Wasn’t until he started opening himself to the idea of things working out okay that they actually started heading in that direction.

“I’ll do no such thing,” he assures you, reaching for a pan to start with his second course. Again, he’s hungry in all aspects of the word. Hasn’t even had his burgers yet, but he’s a growing boy, or so he’d have you believe. Better to just get it cooked first, and save him the hassle of getting up again later. “You want some?”

He nods towards the empty saucepan, but doesn’t need to explain what he’s making. You know it’ll be instant bibimyeon.

“A little,” you nod, knowing that this relationship is gonna be terrible for your waistline. Opening up his fridge, you pull a can of soda from the fridge. Jeongguk doesn’t really ever buy soda, unlike you and your minor peach soda addiction, but take-out places always chuck a complimentary can of something in with your orders, so he’s got quite a stockpile now.

“You want a beer or something instead?” He asks, as he begins to prepare the instant noodles in the most embellished way he possibly can. Spices, sauces, you name it, he’s always adding something—and it’s always delicious. 

Cracking the can open, you set it down and swipe the camera of your phone up to snap a picture of him; to document him in his element. “Nah, it’s okay. Want a clear head for tomorrow.”

Jeongguk smiles, hearing the synthetic shutter of your phone clicking. “Obsessed.”

“So?” You grin, immediately swiping across to open up Instagram and preserve the moment on your story. “You love it.”

Though he doesn’t reply, he does look in your direction with a smile that would only confirm your words.

Together, you fall into a casual rhythm, you perched up on a barstool while he cooks. Conversation darts from A to B, Y to Z. There’s no topic of conversation too obscure nor taboo for you to realm into the depths of, but there’s also something comforting about how you can just natter about the weather, how he should get his hair cut, what’s on at the cinema. 

By the time he’s eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, you’re already in the shower. It’ll be an early night. You’ve both been working today, and both have important things to get done the next day. 

There’s no objection from you as he taps on the door and asks to come in. You hadn’t locked it deliberately. Jimin’s out, and even if he’d have come home, he’d have heard the shower going—or Jeongguk would have told him. There’s no real worry there.

“Been looking forward to this all day,” Jeongguk admits as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck, pulling it over his head in that boyish way he so often does. Neither of you really care about being naked—it’s a daily occurrence at this point—but seeing him get undressed makes your heart feel all jelly-like and void of structure. The chambers melt, and so do you. 

It’s not just attraction, but affection. Acknowledgement that he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. That the things humans do to renew themselves — eat, shower, sleep — are things he wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to be full if you’re hungry, sleep while you’re starved of rest, nor wash away the traces of you. Renewal without you just doesn’t make sense to him. 

“Me too,” you quietly say as he joins you. The water pitter-patters down on you both, his hair wetting before laying flat against his forehead. When his deft hands push it away, it always falls back. 

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders, the embrace akin to coming home. 

“We should both just quit our jobs and do this forever,” Jeongguk muses, almost sleepy in how he mumbles his words against the top of your head. 

“Someone’s gotta pay the water bill,” you smile against his bare chest.

“That’s why I live with Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, tone cheeky and warm. 

The smile on your face sweetly settles into something a little more neutral as you outwardly consider your own living situation. “Lease is up soon, yanno. Mine and Dans.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, wet hair tangling over itself against his skin. He holds you just as tightly. “Haven’t started looking for new places, yet.”

“I’ve still got a few months left on mine,” Jeongguk says, pulling back to reposition the shower head. Just wants to hear you a little more clearly. “My bed is basically yours anyways.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s insinuating—but it also doesn’t take a genius to know that it wouldn’t be the right thing for you both, yet. 

Your eyes are soft as you shake your head. “I’ve a whole apartment's worth of stuff, Gguk. I can’t just move into your room. Need my own space.”

He frowns, reaching for the shampoo. “You can. And I’ll even move my statues.”

“You mean your action figures?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and then you’re giggling, and any negative thoughts Jeongguk could have about you saying ‘no’ dissolve into nothingness, like water running down the drain. He passes you over the shampoo once he’s gotten himself some, and adds, “People pay good money for a collection like mine.”

“You mean you spent a fuck ton of money on them?”

“We’ve all got our weaknesses,” he protests. “You’ve got so many clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been into your room when there hasn’t been an avalanche of clothes on the chair, wardrobe and dressers bursting at seams—”

“Exactly,” You laugh. “Now imagine all of that in your room.”

He takes a second. Visualises it as he lathers up the foamy shampoo in his hair and almost hisses. “Yeah. You’re right. I take it back. Get your own place.”

Rolling your eyes, you flick a little water in his direction, as if it makes a difference. 

He grins, teeth on show, lip ring doing the thing that just makes you melt. 

“See,” you grin right back. “I’m always right.”

The rest of your shower is littered with dumb conversations and stolen kisses between shampoo rinses. In fact, it’s how the rest of the evening continues. Some dumb action film plays on the tv, and then Jeongguk finds a dumb youtube quiz, and you giggle into the early hours over some other dumb shit. Dumb, dumb, dumb and oh so totally in love. 

The apartment issue lingers in the back of Jeongguk’s mind, though, and questions dance on the tip of his tongue. He tries to brush them away, but the mint of his toothpaste isn’t enough to erase them. They taste sour, and he knows the only way to rid the sensation is to speak them into existence.

Gone midnight, the city is still alive. His curtains are open, because you’ve started to get used to the way he likes to sleep, and find it far easier to wake up early when the sun is giving you a warm welcome to the day. Funny, how things change. How willing he was to change his habits for you, and how seamlessly yours have changed to fit him. You’re better for knowing one another, or so it feels. 

The light pollution gives his bedroom a soft glow, and with every change of advertisement on the billboards across the street, the hue changes. Like his own personal mood lamp, it’s become a staple of his home. It’s blue, now, and so is he when he considers the fact that you haven’t yet reached the stage of sharing a home.

Your arm is looped over his waist, ‘cause he’d decided that the role of the little spoon would be going to him. Fingers interlocked with yours, he has no interest in ever letting go. 

“B?”

“Mhmm?”

“Is Dan definitely moving in with Tae?”

“Think so.”

Jeongguk doesn’t immediately reply, but you leave space open for him. A question like that didn’t come out of the blue. It’s something he’s been ruminating on, no doubt.

When he finally does speak, the weight of his soft, if not somewhat pouty, words crush down on your chest in a way that you can’t quite explain. Hell, in a way you don’t want to explain, because it would mean admitting that a man has such power over you (even if said man is Jeon Jeongguk).

“They’ve always been one step ahead of us,” he laments.

And then he leaves silence for you. Knows that you always have a response of some kind that will settle his woes. Feels guilty that you’re always cleaning up the messes of his loose lips, but would be a liar if he said he didn’t crave the sweet nothings you soothe him with.

“They’re on an entirely different path, baby,” you gently press a kiss into his shoulder. He’s so warm and powder-fresh from his shower that you can’t help but want to cling to him like a koala bear. Most importantly, though, you don’t want him to move away. Space to talk is fine, but physical space? God, no. “There's no use comparing.”

But Jeongguk is a glutton for punishment. Will continue making himself feel small for the sake of his perceived flaws.

“Loved you before Taehyung even knew who Danbi was,” Jeongguk pouts, ‘cause he’s in his head again, going round in circles when he really needn’t be. You know he does this, though. It doesn’t surprise nor concern you. If anything, it reassures you, because his willingness to share these thoughts just signposts how far you’ve both come. He used to stew and sour over things like this. Now, he shares his burdens “But they’re doing all these big milestones first. They were a couple, went on vacation, and now moving in together. All before us.”

“It’s not a competition,” you sweetly laugh. “Their relationship couldn’t be more different to ours. Plus I hardly consider a weekend in Jeju a big vacation—we can literally do that this weekend, if you want.”

You’re not sure why you’ve never been away together. Busan is always lovely, but it’s a short drive, and is somewhere Jeongguk still considers to be home. It’s not a holiday. Perhaps you should rectify that. It's better spoken about during the daylight hours, but always a little nicer to dream at night. Make silly, fantastical plans that you could always turn into reality, if you really wanted. 

“Gguk,” you softly continue. “As much as I love them both, we’re literally so different from them. Our relationship was never gonna be like theirs.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Well, I mean, he lets her peg him for starters—”

Jeongguk turns so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall out of bed. Even in the darkness of his room at night, the open curtains mean his shock is easy to make out. “Does he actually?!”

Giggling, you roll onto your back, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. Truth is, you’ve no idea. Just said it to be a dick. 

“Probably,” you say, admitting that you don’t know. You just knew it would cause a reaction. Ease the tension, somewhat. “He’s like, obsessed with her. Would let her do anything she wants.”

Sinking back down into the sheets with you, Jeongguk wraps his arm over your body now. Pulls you close. Presses a kiss to your neck, and says, “You lost the bet, y’know? Can’t even go 24 hours without thinking about fucking my ass, can you?”

It sounds like a complaint, but the way his lips seem unable to stop pressing wet kisses against your throat would prove otherwise. Your hand tangles in his hair, scratching his scalp in approval. 

“Cute that you think I haven’t been thinking about it all day,” you tease, biting back the small murmur of a moan that’s just begging to escape from his touch. 

You often have thoughts about him throughout the day, both pure and impure. It’s not like you mean to—it’s just that there’s something about Jeongguk that is impossible to forget. Like a class-A drug, you linger from high to high, using thoughts about him to sustain your comedown until you can see him again. 

He is your boyfriend, though. Would be weirder if you weren’t a little obsessed.

“Liar,” he scolds. “I picked your clothes up after our shower. Your underwear were dry.”

“You were inspecting my underwear? Freak,” you tease, because quite honestly the idea of him studying your underwear in the hopes of finding arousal is kinda hot, even if a little perverted. “And maybe it’s because you don’t get me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk ignores your insult. Instead, his hand creeps down the mound of your pussy, pausing before he sinks his fingers between your thighs. “So you’ll be dry right now, then?”

“I’ll be just like the Gobi,” you assure him with that tone of defiance he's grown to adore. “Try me.”

You don’t know why you’re offering yourself up like this, ‘cause you know it’s only gonna end up one way.

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar,” he smirks—and then is proven correct as his fingers slide between your slick folds with ease. A gasp escapes from your lips as he casually brushes past your clit, paying it no attention whatsoever. “And even if you weren’t, there’s like, five bigger deserts than the Gobi. Sounds like it’s a pretty easy drought to rectify—but fuckin’ hell, B. My pretty girl and her filthy mouth. Full of lies, isn’t it? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“No,” you purr, hips languidly rolling to intensify the sensation he’s facilitating. After all, he’s right. There’s nothing dry about the situation between your legs. “Never told a lie in my life.”

His teeth nip at your neck as his body presses up against your side, the thick ridge of his cock letting you know that you most certainly get him excited. 

“You’re so full of shit, B,” he quietly says, lips from a pretty little kiss against the edge of your jaw. “Told so many lies, haven’t you, hm? Like when you used to tell people we were just friends?”

The desperate sigh that escapes your mouth only fuels him on even more.

“You remember the first time I touched you like this, huh?” He husks against your ear. “Those pretty eyes of yours watching us in the mirror. You can see us now, can’t you?”

Nudging his head against yours, he encourages you to look in the direction of his mirror. You always sleep on the side of the bed closest to it, but you rarely pay it any attention these days. The pair of you are obscured—bed sheets and shadows hiding what he’s doing to you—but the eroticism is just as potent as it always was.

“Gguk,” you rasp, back arching when he strokes against your clit just right.

Restraint is something that you wish you had been gifted with, but alas—you are just a girl, and he is just the sexiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. Of course you melt with every little thing he does.

“What is it, baby?” His index finger pushes into the seeping entrance of your cunt, just once, twice, to really get you moaning. “You like it when your boyfriend touches you?”

Something about Jeongguk referring to himself like that always gets you hot, but it’s partially because of the way he almost growls when he does it. You know it’s a turn-on for him. Know that his cock is throbbing. Know he loves calling himself yours.

Tugging on his arm, you encourage him to move on top of you. It’s late, and you should both be getting a good night's rest, but whatever. In half an hour, you’ll both be away with the fairies. If anything, this will help you fall asleep quicker.

“Thought you wanted an early night?” he husks against your lips, finishing his question with a kiss that lasts far longer than any words spoken. His firm lips part yours as your legs wrap around his hips as they grind up against yours.

“And I thought you said whoever speaks about fucking your ass next loses?” You smile against his lips, knowing that he definitely must have a twisted idea of what punishment is. “How is this losing?”

“We never set out terms,” he reminds you, unable to stop himself from kissing you between sentences. “But maybe it's not about losing. Maybe it’s about winning.”

“Okay?” You entertain his flirt, giggling between those kisses he just can’t seem to stop giving you. “So what are you winning?”

He pretends to give it thoughtful consideration. Squints his eyes and looks away as if contemplating one of life's great questions. Why are we here? What is the point of life? How do I want my girlfriend to make me cum tonight?

Jeongguk presses a kiss to your neck, nose nudging against your skin. He’s feline-like. Purry. Pathetic. Just how you like him.

“You haven’t sucked me off in a while,” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Your hand laces in his hair, a soft moan humming from your lips. There’s a softness to the slow movements of your bodies. A comfort. A desperation. Unadulterated devotion. “So maybe that?”

You laugh at his shamelessness. Press a kiss to his temple, still scratching at his scalp. “I gave you a blowjob, like, two days ago, baby.”

“I know,” he whines like a wounded puppy, all docile and dejected. “It’s been so long I might die.”

“Hmm?” You hum in response, pushing on his waist ever so slightly until he gets the message to roll onto his back. He does as he's told, because he really is just a puppy dog beneath it all. Well-trained and desperate for a treat.

Following the movements of his body, you naturally ease into position on top of him. Legs straddled either side of his waist, you raise yourself up into a seated position, earning you a grunt of approval from Jeongguk. 

The way his hands immediately reach up to play with your chest is curious, considering he still plays himself off as an ass guy. Strong with his movements, he grips the softness of your tits, his hips gently pulsing up against you.

“These might help prolong my life expectancy,” he says. “Best stress balls known to man.”

He seems quite content like this. Eyes closed, a smile hangs off his lips like he’s in a serene state of bliss. You cock your brow, unable to fight a smile, too. 

“Did you just call my tits… balls?”

One of his eyes cracks open. “No?”

“You definitely did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did—”

“Byeol,” he reprimands your diversion of the topic. “C’mon. Business, baby.”

“Is that all I am to you, huh?” You say, reaching for his wrist so that you can pull your hairband from it. He lets you do so and looks on with salacious curiosity as you begin to tie your hair up in a ponytail. “Just a transaction?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his own hair tangling against his pillow as he does so. “A bird for a bird, remember?”

“Are we not past the point of the birds?”

“Well, yeah,” he says as if it’s totally obvious. “Thought we were gonna do a plane?”

Jeongguk’s reference back to the paper planes that he crafted in your bedroom makes your heart seize. You know what he means by that. Knows that it’s permission, in a way. That he wants what you want, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“Are we?”

“Well we’re not gonna do anything if you keep up with the small talk,” he fondly teases you, pulling you back down so your chest is against his. One of his hands wraps itself in your ponytail and tugs ever so gently. A soft moan escapes your lips, much to his enjoyment. “I like your hair like this.”

In all honesty, he just likes being able to pull on it. Loves your hair no matter how it’s done. 

“You’ll like it even more in a few minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw before you embark on your journey south. 

It’s intrinsic, how you work his body. A routine so well learned it’s not even given a second thought anymore. You know how to make him tick. The way he groans when you press pretty kisses down his collarbones and the way his hips roll when you drag the pink of your tongue over his pebbled nipples.

His hand clutches in your hair, keeping you in that position, encouraging you to pay a little extra attention to his nipples for a change. It’s not often that he wants too much focus on his chest, but he’s so turned on that even the slightest touch is making him go feral. 

“Shit,” he hisses when your teeth gently press down around his nipple before you suck it ever so gently. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”

He’s never cared for it before. In all honestly, he actively didn’t like it when previous partners did it. There’s something about you that subverts all his desires. You’ve changed him. Altered his understanding of his body. Opened him up to so much more than he’d ever considered before.

Still, you’ve got an agenda, and unfortunately for him, it doesn’t involve his chest. He lets you move down, one hand lazily hanging by your head, the other resting over his chest. His thumb strokes over his pebbled nipple, still wet from your tongue, the pleasure of your touch sending him into a state of ecstasy.

Your body shuffles down, and you both reposition yourselves. No longer are you straddling, but rather you’re between his legs. His thighs are dappled in kisses from you, before your palms rest flat to his inner thighs, spreading him just right.

Alternating between slow kisses and languid drags of your tongue, you teeter ever so close to his thick, solid cock, but never quite touch it. Every time you get close, he whines, cock twitching.

There’s a satisfaction to be found in the way his body responds to your touch. His desperation is painful. Visceral. All he wants is you. 

And because you can’t bear to see him in pain (whether or not because he’s so turned on he might just die), you concede. Give him what he wants. 

Hands on his thighs, you let a little spit pool on your tongue before slowly dragging the tip of your tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, writhing from the contact.

You smile, and the lightness of your breath against the wet streak of your tongue makes him shiver. 

The tip of his cock is already leaky with precum, his eagerness to be inside you so pathetically obvious. You avoid it, instead opting to repeat your previous moves. Slowly, you lick up his fat length, tongue flat as can be. You want him to feel as much of you as he can. Want him whining— begging —for your pussy.

If the precum seeping from his tip is a sign of desperation, then heaven only knows what the fuckin’ mess between your legs is. Every stroke of your tongue against him only serves to make you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Your hand reaches to wrap around his shaft, gently stroking his foreskin. Your tongue flicks against the base of his tip, right where you know he’s the most sensitive. 

It’s no surprise when his grip on your ponytail tightens. 

But it is a surprise when he lets go. 

“Hm?” You chirp, looking up, just to make sure he’s all good.

He is—he just isn’t looking at you to confirm it. Instead, his upper body twists ever so slightly as he reaches for his bedside drawer. 

You know it’s got a host of indecent artifacts—his sex toys, condoms, polaroids of you that are for his eyes only—but don’t give it much thought. Figure maybe he’s after a condom to make himself last longer, until you feel him tapping at your shoulder with the side of a small plastic bottle. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

Not immediately, at least. 

What he wants is something he can’t really bring himself to ask for. Hopes that you’ll work it out for yourself. 

As you take the bottle from him, a small chirp echoes from your throat, as if you’re asking for clarification. Again, Jeongguk hopes you’ll work it out. That he won’t have to shamelessly tell you what he desperately wants, cock twitching and leaking precum on his stomach.

The way you pause as you study the bottle, trying to read the text in the dim light of Jeongguk’s room, only adds to his apprehension—until he hears a soft smile exhaling from your lips when you realise exactly what it is: lube .

Never usually required, thanks to the fact Jeongguk makes you resemble a waterfall from just a look in your direction, you know the lube isn’t for you. It’s for him. 

And given the state of conversations around sex over the past week or so, you know what he’s asking for.

After all, he’s the one who wrote that damn airplane in the first place. Told you straight up that he liked ass play way back in the days of the sticky notes (some of which remain on his wall, yet to be conquered).

His drawer only really has his things in it, though. You’ve not got any of your toys at his place. This is a preliminary. A follow-up, almost, to the night spent in the Min’s garden, doing things that probably scared a few dozen nocturnal animals.

“Yeah?” You encourage, lips pressing to his upper thigh. His body adjusts ever so slightly, as if he’s shy. Your hand wraps around his shaft, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down his length in just the right way to get his hands gripping his sheets. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he rasps through the pleasure of having you touch him. “Just want you to do it.”

“Talk about what?” You tease, ‘cause there’s no way he’ll actually enjoy what he’s asking for if he keeps being this uptight about it all. Relaxation is key.

“B,” he groans, this time out of frustration—and so you know you need to be the one to take the lead.

It just doesn’t feel right to take the lead, knowing he’s a little bit tense. You’ve always been so clear and consistent with each other when it comes to consent, and while you know what he wants, you wanna hear him say it first. 

So you leave the bottle of lube next to his thigh and clamber up his body. Legs straddling his waist, you’re pleased that his hands come to stroke your thighs without a second thought. Conversely, your hands softly hold his cheeks, bringing him in for half a dozen pretty little kisses.

“Words are important. I’m not gonna be crude about it,” you tell him, ‘cause it makes a change to the way you joke around with one another. “I just love you, and I want to make you feel good.”

Jeongguks nose nudges back up against yours, as if to plead for more kisses (of which you give him, willingly).

“I love you more,” he argues into your lips, earning a giggle from you that somehow melts all of his worries away. 

“Chess is always an option,” you remind him, but he shakes his head.

“Just… Fucking hell,” he groans as if it’s some sort of laborious task he really can’t be bothered to see through, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just embarrassed. It’s all rather cute. Or at least it is until he continues. “Just finger my ass.” 

He bashfully half whimpers, half laughs, and then adds a pouty, “Please.”

A smile sinks into your lips, and the way he seems almost shy makes your tummy feel all funny. He’s disastrously cute like this. 

“I’ll make you feel so good,” you promise, lips brushing against his ear.

He nods. Knows you will. Lets his hands stroke up and down your back, bringing them around to cup your boobs. Squeezes. Smiles. Can’t resist himself when he questions, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You nod, pulling back to sit upright just for his viewing pleasure. His hands are still holding your tits, gently caressing. He’ll never not love the sight of this. Of you. Of the way you respond to his touch. 

“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you back down, ‘cause he can’t let you go just yet. Your hands grip onto his bedframe as his lips eagerly latch onto one of your nipples. One of your hands drops to tangle in his smooth hair, a pretty little moan escaping your lips.

He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. Switches up his sucking motion to flick his tongue against your hardened bud. Get you moaning all over again, the position of your legs spread over his waist, letting him know just how pleased you are to have him like this.

And while Jeongguk might have been asking you for favours, all he can think about is returning them.

Tapping on your ass, he’s a little breathless as he lets go of his latch on your nipple, and husks, “Up, baby. On my face. You before me.”

“Hm?” you languidly hum—not because you don’t know what he means, but because it goes against what he was asking for just minutes earlier.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t care to explain his thought process (mainly because he doesn’t have one (he just likes having you in his mouth in any and all capacities)). Instead, he just continues tapping your ass until you get the message.

“You’re so impatient,” you lightly scold him while you do as he requests, but barely have time to position yourself before his arms are hooking over your legs, pulling your pussy to his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

He wastes no time suctioning his lips around your clit. He doesn’t care to be quiet about it. Eats you like it’s his last fuckin’ supper. Laps up against you. 

It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s like he wants his whole fuckin’ face in your cunt. His nose rubs up against your clit, while his tongue greedily licks your entrance. There’s no such thing as perfect, but the way he’s proportioned is as close as it gets, you think. Your hips grind, a hand tangled in his hair, the way you both move entirely primal. 

Hands squeezing at your ass, he encourages your movements. Wants you all over his face. Loves nothing more than being coated in you. 

His tongue begins to focus now, though. He positions himself just right. Flicks against your clit at such a speed it’s hard to comprehend—and then he’s moaning. Vibrating against you. Delivering a sensation that could never be replicated.

“I’m close,” you rasp. Whine. Moan. “Don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”

And while he wants you to, Jeongguk knows why. Knows you wanna fuck him. Knows you wanna cum around his cock instead of on his face. Multiple orgasms have never been an issue, but it is late. You do need a somewhat early night. 

He nods, easing up his tongue, slowly sucking on your clit. The movements of his head as he sucks only serve to make you feel like you might cum regardless, so you shakily (and regretfully) pull away. 

When you reposition yourself, he pulls you against his lips for the messiest, most obscene kiss possible. It’s all tongue, and little else. The taste of your cunt. The sweetness of his whines. The filth of how much he loves sinning with you. 

There's nobody else he could be like this with. Only you. Only ever you.

Straddled over his hips, you grind gently, his thick cock perfectly snug between your lips. Wet and swollen, they feel like silk against him. Jeongguk knows, given the chance, that he’d be able to cum like this. Easy.

That’s not what he wants, though, so you retrace your steps. Sink back down. Don’t fuck around this time. Instead, you take him in your mouth without hesitation. Return the favour he’s just bestowed upon you.

Head bobbing up and down his fat length, your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Pulling back, you spit against him, using your hand to spread it, gaining momentum. Loose with your grip, you focus on the tip of his sensitive cock, jerking him until he’s whining. Whimpering.

And then, you let your tongue stroke against his balls. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, his hips pulsing beneath you.

It’s all the approval you need for your hand to get a little tighter, and for your lips to take one of his balls in your mouth. It’s a sensation Jeongguk fuckin’ loves, if done right—and of course, you know how to do it perfectly for him. 

You take his ecstasy as a chance to move things along. Know he’s feeling good. Know he wants more. 

Pulling back, you sit on your heels. Neither of you speak, but Jeongguk does slowly nod when he sees you reaching for the bottle of lube next to his body. Trepidation hangs in the air. This territory is uncharted, and it’s been a little while since you last ventured so far south—but you’ve got a roadmap. Know the way. Even if you didn’t, you like to think intuition would guide you, regardless.

Warming it a little bit in your hands, you’re slow. Cautious. Careful, knowing that he’s probably feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.

Hands slick with the gel, you wrap a palm around his shaft. Ease him into the feeling. It’s not like it’s a new sensation, but the pair of you rarely ever use lube. You’re always wet enough. He nods. Lets his eyes close as your other hand gently massages against his balls.

A little further south, you venture. He’s not a stranger to your tongue against his taint, but your fingers are less frequent. He's not as well acquainted with the sensation, but he likes it. Legs spreading a little further, Jeongguk makes himself available for you. 

Smiling at just how cute he looks, you’re a curious mix of enamoured and outrageously turned on. Just like nobody could ever make him feel the way you do, nobody could ever make you feel the way he does. 

“You’re so hot,” you tell him, gently wanking his cock as two of your fingers stroke up and down his taint. You apply a little more pressure. Replace his bashful smile with a wanting gasp.

Slick with lube, you let your middle finger go lower. Slowly, you press against his rim. Watch him closely as his brows furrow. There’s that look of desperation once more, and the assurance that yes, he wants this. Wants you. 

You count in your head. 1, 2, 3… make sure he doesn’t stop moving his hips. If anything, he’s edging himself down. Encouraging you to apply more pressure. 

And so you do. Slowly, eyes trained on his pretty, pathetic face, you push your middle finger against his tight hole, until the muscle eases.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, the penetration of a single finger overwhelmingly pleasurable for him. His eyes flicker open, landing on yours as your finger begins to curl ever so gently. Just a little. Just enough.

Chest heaving, Jeongguk looks beautiful in a way that’s hard to put into words—and when you slowly pull out, he looks ruined in a way that’s also hard to comprehend.

His lips hang slack, chest heaving as his eyes burn into you like the heat of a thousand stars. Face dewy with sweat, hair sticks to his forehead, the storminess of his gaze quickly triggers a whirlpool within your stomach. There’s a neediness to him as he swallows back a breath, lips coming together so that he can lick them, before his pout forms that pretty little o-shape once more.

Breathless as he speaks, Jeongguk rasps, “Again.”

The corner of your lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe?”

“Yeah,” he pathetically nods, fucked out but somehow still painfully desperate for more. Of course he is, though. It’s you. No one gets him like this. No one ever will. His brows furrow together, his tongue flicking against the silver hoops in the corner of his mouth, as his eyes drop to his pathetically weeping cock. He’s so hard. So keen. So needy—and what he needs right now is you. “Please, B. More.”

You tease against his entrance, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. It’s like a reward, to hear him like this. As if you’ve done something truly remarkable.

Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, adding to the electricity surging through him. He reaches down. Wraps his hand around yours. Encourages you. Wants more. Needs more. And so you give him more.

Finger pushing into his tight entrance, you’re slow. Painfully so, though you aren’t causing any actual pain. Jeongguk just wants you to hit that spot. 

“Yeah?” You check in.

Breathless, nodding his head even though his eyes are closed, he says, “Yeah.”

Your finger curls. Strokes. Searches. Finds.

And Jeongguk moans in a way you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s a whimper, almost. A plea. Or rather, a confession, maybe.

Your hands work in tandem, your finger stroking right against the spot that makes him whine, while your other hand strokes him in tempo. He’s stimulated in a way he isn’t used to. In a way he never really thought was possible. 

There’s a vulnerability that comes with penetration. Far easier to fuck someone than it is to get fucked.

When he looks down towards you, it's like looking through a telescope; galaxies in his big brown eyes. Wide and wanting, he'll give you all the stars in his eyes, no questions asked, no fee charged.

It’s when your head dips to press wet kisses against his taint that his whines really begin to get desperate. Has always loved your mouth. Loves it when it does things it shouldn’t. 

A girl like you shouldn’t have your nose pressed to a ballsack or her tongue mere millimetres away from an asshole, but the way you focus on delivering him pleasure would suggest otherwise. You’re made for this. Made for him. 

It’s when you whine, though, obsessed with his body's response to you, that he really begins to get twitchy. His hips pulse ever so gently, encouraging the movements of both hands.

“Yeah?” you breathlessly whisper, smirking at how a man so strong is just absolute putty in your hands. “You fucking yourself with my hands, huh?”

Jeongguk is beyond the point of pride. Has no need for dignity. Just wants to feel good.

“Yeah,” he admits between desperate breaths. “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard.” 

Everything is moving in the same chaotic rhythm: his chest, his beating heart, his pulsing hips. Jeongguk’s cock is twitching, the sensation of you massaging his prostate taking him closer and closer to the point of release. He isn’t gonna last, and you don't want him to. 

Your hand grips even tighter around the base of his cock, the stimulation impossible to fight against. There’s only so much he can take.

“B,” he whines. “Oh, fuck.”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, not even caring for your lost orgasm from earlier. He can make it up to you later. You keep the pace of your finger consistent, but wank him off faster. He whimpers and he writhes, but he doesn’t ease up. “C’mon, baby. Show me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

If there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s when you call him sweet little names. 

“Please, baby,” you beg, because you know just the right buttons to press. His hands grip his bed sheets, eyes struggling to stay open. He’s seconds away from death, or so it feels. A little death, at least. His legs begin to twitch. The onslaught of what is about to happen is unmistakable. “That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Show me how good it feels.”

“B,” he tries to speak, but can’t. All he can do it succumb to the pleasure. Whine. Mewl. Moan.

And then it’s happening; the evidence of how fucking good you are for him painting his abdomen. His cock is pathetic as it spurts ropes of thick, hot cum onto his belly. White and wet, it’s never-ending. He cums and he cums; gasps and gasps. 

It’s not until he begins to twitch, chest heaving, cock spent, that you withdraw from him. Immediately, you gently begin to trail your tongue across his hard abs, cleaning up the evidence of how much he likes having you in his ass. You're keeping his secrets. Promising you'll never tell a soul.

“Shit,” he curses, all breathless and fucked out, one arm over his chest, while his other hand reaches down to stroke the side of your head. “Fuck.”

Giggling now, you clamber up to join him, and Jeongguk cares not for the fact your cum is still on your tongue. In fact, he deliberately stokes his against yours, swapping the evidence of his pleasure between you both. Moaning into your lips, he’s spent in a way he never has been before. 

“God, I love you,” he whines into your mouth. Gets needy all over again. “You know that, huh? You know how much I love you?”

With a bashful nod, you find yourself giggling. “You know I know.”

“Good,” he nods, pulling away to face the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to get a little breath back. You snuggle into him, all rather sweetly considering what you’ve just done. “‘Cause I do. And I mean it. You’re literally, like, the love of my life.”

“Who knew all it would take was a little ass play to get your saying such soppy shit,” you tease him, pressing a kiss against his chest. “Should have done this months ago.”

He laughs now, too. “Just cause I didn’t say it back then doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

The pair of you descend into a comfortable warmth, giggling and joking, until you get up to wash yourself up a little. Jeongguk protests. Says he needs to return the favour—but ultimately agrees to wait until the morning. 

“Need to sleep at some point, babe,” you tell him as you both meander to the bathroom. Jeongguk makes a mental note to get a place with an en-suite when he moves out. In a pair of boxers, he watches you fondly as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, all love drunk and bleary-eyed.

You’re in one of his shirts, and it drapes over your body in a way that it would never drape over him. He likes it better on you. In fact, he likes most things in his life better with the addition of you.  Thinks life would be impossible, if he were ever to lose you. 

“I think I’d die, yanno,” he mindlessly says, watching you plait your hair to stop it from tangling in the night. “If we ever broke up or weren’t together, I’d think I’d just die.”

You laugh, because it’s absurd. Both the concept of dying of a broken heart, and the idea that you would ever break up. 

“Don’t speak it into existence, then,” you tease. “It’s a full moon, Gguk. Can’t be manifesting things like that on a night like this.”

“I’m not,” he assures you, because if anything, he’s trying to do the opposite. Not once does he think to tell you that the full moon has nothing to do with it, or some other belittling remark about believing in the stars, like you know most guys would. Why would he though? A star is the closest thing he knows to religion, and he’s looking at it right now.

“Well, good,” you hum, turning to face him, hair now secure. “Let's just agree to not break up, and that way you won’t die.”

“Sounds good,” he sleepily smiles, tugging on your hand, guiding you back to his bedroom. 

It’s a ridiculous conversation for a ridiculous concept. 

Or at least, in the warmth of lust-drunk night, it is.

In the cold light of day, stark and sterile, everything has the potential to change. 

After all, bad decisions are your forte, are they not?

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 1)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: When Vox proves incapable of cutting Valentino out of his sex life despite his many reassurances, you decide to break it off with him and leave for good. He doesn’t take it so well.

Just to be clear, reader is an artificial intelligence demon, looks super realistic and human-like, but is actually composed of nanotechnology. She was human once though, like all of the other sinners.

INSPIRED BY THIS POST

Part 2—> Chapter Index

"Y/n?" Charlie poked her head through your door. "There's uh, someone here to see you."

You narrowed your eyes, rising from your bed. A bone-weary sigh escaped you. It was obvious who your supposed "visitor" was. "Did you tell him I'm busy?"

Charlie pursed her lips, looking down. Great, so that meant he was throwing a temper tantrum. And she wanted you to sort him out.

"Alright, fine," you pinched the bridge of your nose. "I'm coming." She was generous enough to let you stay, after all. The least you could do was clean up your messes.

When you finally reached the main floor, Vox and Alastor looked about two seconds away from clawing each other's faces off. Cyan blue electricity was sparking along Vox's entire body, and Alastor's shadows curled dangerously behind him, ready to attack at his call.

Seeing him made a hot fury like no other claw its way up your throat. "What the fuck are you doing here?" You growled lowly, balling your fists at your sides.

At the sound of your voice, Vox immediately broke away from Alastor, a giant smile spreading across his screen. "Sweetheart! There you are!"

You stormed up to him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him harshly into a corner. You let go of him once you were sufficiently out of earshot of the others, crossing your arms and leveling him with a furious glare. "You have five seconds to explain yourself."

"Okay, let's just calm down for a second here," he chuckled, but it was an empty sound. "Is it really that weird for me to want to check up on you? After all, you kind of just disappeared," his smile strained.

"Has it ever occurred to you that the reason you couldn't find me was because I don't want to see you?" You smiled sardonically, patience running thin.

"Uh, what?" He laughed, but his smile was frozen. "Why would you not want to see me?"

That was the last fucking straw. "Are you that fucking delusional, Vox?" You snapped, poking him harshly in the chest. "When I said I was done, I meant it. This," you gestured between the two of you. "Is over. I'm done."

Vox twitched, electricity sparking off sporadically from his antennae. He stared at you in stunned silence, his breathing starting to pick up speed as he processed your words. His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were being untruthful, and when he found none, he glanced up at the small crowd of residents and staff gathered, only to lock eyes with a smug Alastor.

Vox's screen glitched, his features twisting in a rage. "So you're replacing me with the radio fucker now, is that it?"

"Oh, really?" You narrowed your eyes. "Just like you replaced me with Valentino?"

"That's different," Vox gritted out.

"Is it?"

"Yes, for one, Val isn't some archaic cannibalistic fucker with a vendetta against me!"

"Who has the vendetta against who here? Cause it seems like you're the one who can't let things go." You watched him splutter on his bullshit for a few seconds before you shook your head in exasperation, the pounding pressure increasing at your temples. "Alright, that's it, we're done here. Get out."

"Y/n," he narrowed his eyes. "You need to think about this."

"Oh I've had plenty of time to think," you grabbed his tie, pulling him closer to bare your teeth menacingly. "Now get out before I put a goddamn virus in your software Vox!" Your face pixelated from rage at the end of your sentence. You let him go with a harsh shove.

For a long moment nobody spoke, a tense silence blanketing over the two of you. You glared at him venomously, chest still heaving from your outburst. And him, he was looking at you like he'd never seen you before. Good, you thought spitefully. It's finally getting through to him.

Vox's mouth hardened into a thin line, his sharp claws nearly drawing blood from his palms. "Why here?"

You closed your eyes. "It’s not a forever thing. I just—I need to be away from everything for a little while, okay?" Everything that we've built together. Reminders of you. "No flashy shit, no fast life, no technology—"

"You're an A.I. model," he said dully.

"Yeah well, you win some you lose some," you sighed, rubbing at your temples. "Look, I don't want to say it again. Leave Vox, I'm serious."

For a hot second, it looked like you were ripping his entire world apart and stomping on the broken pieces, the way he looked at you so lost, before he hastily pulled himself back together. "Fine," he spat out. It sounded like it physically hurt him to say it.

He lifted his chin, adjusted his lapels, and stormed out of the hotel, slamming the door so hard it blew straight off of its hinges, blue sparks of electricity still sizzling from it.

For a few seconds, a thick tension suffocated the room, as everyone took the time to process the shit show they'd just witnessed.

"Well, that was fun!" Alastor's cheery voice punctuated the silence. You glared at him tiredly.

***

If you thought that he would give up like you so nicely asked, you were sadly mistaken.

Turned out it was just a pre-game warm up for this asshole.

At least thrice a week, he made sure to fuck up your peace somehow. Last time it was spray painting the entire hotel electric blue (how, you didn't even want to know). The time before that, it was trying to sneak some of his peeping gadgets in through the window. And the time before that, it was putting your name up on every billboard in the goddamn city with a red heart next to it.

Now, you stood incredulously in front of half of the hotel. As in, the other half was missing. Blown off by a fucking missile. You couldn't make this shit up if you tried.

"What the fuck is going on?" You gritted out, before taking a deep, calming breath.

Vox's electric laughter rang out from a speaker of unknown source. You turned angrily to face the open air.

"Pathetic," he jeered. "You still want to shack up with these losers, Y/n?"

You shook your head slowly, laughing in disbelief. "Wow," you said sarcastically. "You really showed us, didn't you? Feel better about yourself now?"

You punctuated your sentence with a glare, before turning and storming towards the remaining half of the building.

Vox watched you from twenty different angles across his screens. The moment you turned your back, his wide, toothy grin dropped, eyes squeezing shut. He slammed mute on his microphone.

“FUCK!” He banged a fist on the table, breathing heavily. It had been two weeks already, and you still hadn’t come back to him. He was getting desperate now.

A quick glance at the screen showed Alastor’s glitching picture. The radio bastard snapped his fingers with a raised brow, the missing half of the hotel repairing itself instantly.

“Fucking show off,” Vox growled raggedly.

He needed to change tactics. And fast.

***

Nothing. He had nothing.

No plans, no blueprints, no smart and suave moves to get you back.

Every scenario he ran through his head would inevitably end with you walking away from him. If only he could hypnotize you like with everyone else—but you were a tech demon, just like him. More advanced, even. Your firewalls were just too strong.

Vox poured himself another glass of scotch, solemnly glaring up at the ceiling in frustration.

A clawed hand clasped his shoulder, making him grit his teeth.

“You’re looking a little tense, Cariño,” Valentino purred, trailing his fingers up Vox’s neck. “I can help with that~”

Vox shrugged him off, annoyed. “Not in the mood, Val.”

But Valentino was undeterred. “Is this about Y/n?” He murmured, knowing he hit the nail on the head when the other demon tensed considerably. “What’s so special about that bitch anyway, hm? Is it the pussy? You know I’ve got whores lined up for you, baby. Just say the word and—”

“Fuck off, Val!” Vox exploded, electricity sparking in his eye. “I don’t want just any random bitch from the street, okay?! I want Y/n. I want her back,” he spat miserably.

Valentino went silent, his face twisting into a cruel expression. “Don’t you understand?” He growled. “She left you. Betrayed you. And she’s not coming back, ever. The sooner you see that and stop wasting your time, the better.”

He turned away, his heels clacking against the marble floors until the double doors swung closed behind him.

Vox let out a frustrated yell, arcs of electricity shooting out from him and shattering his expensive collection of drinking glasses to smithereens.

***

A tap sounded at your window, making you tense.

Slowly you approached it, generating a pistol from your nanotech and holding it tightly to your chest. You peered out of the blinds, only to find your ex dangling from the window sill.

“Holy shit!” You screeched, jumping back.

“A lil’ help?” he grinned lazily, reaching out for you. You grasped his hand, hauling him inside of your room.

The unmistakably pungent scent of alcohol invaded your senses, making your wrinkle your nose.

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you drunk?” You dragged a hand down your face.

“No,” he hiccuped, shaking his head vehemently, which caused him to lose balance. You grabbed his shoulders, righting him before he fell and broke his screen.

“Oh yeah,” his face lit up in realization, before he reached behind him, pulling out a bouquet of slightly squashed roses. “For you,” he slurred, offering them proudly.

You looked at them in exasperation, before taking them gently from his hands. Bringing them up to your face, you closed your eyes, sniffing them slightly. A sweet floral scent filled your senses as you regarded them.

“They’re pretty,” you remarked quietly.

“Yeah,” he grinned, your eyes flickering up to catch his. “But you’re prettier.” At your lack of reaction, his grin faltered, and he looked down.

“I…” he started, swaying slightly. “I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. “Don’t do this.”

“Please come home,” he continued, expression drooping sorrowfully. He clasped your hand, looking up at you pleadingly. “I’ll…I’ll do better, I promise.”

The ache in your heart grew almost unbearable the more you looked at him, so you averted your gaze. “Why don’t you ever say that when you’re sober?”

Vox let go of your hand, sliding down the wall until he landed on his ass. “Scared,” he mumbled.

You crouched down in front of him, lifting his hanging head from his arms. “Of what?” You said gently.

His eyes flickered up to yours, and the raw emotion nearly stole your breath away. “You still won’t want me.”

“Vox…” You closed your eyes, pained.

“Come home,” he whispered hollowly. “Please.”

“You know I can’t do that,” you said thickly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He looked at you sadly, but resigned. “Yeah, I know,” he lowered his screen back into his arms. “…miss you,” he trailed off quietly, before soft whistling snores could be heard.

You dropped your face in your hands, breathing raggedly. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. You had almost fucking caved.

After a moment to compose yourself, you searched his pockets, pulling out his phone (he didn’t even change his password) and dialing a familiar number.

“What the fuck do you want now, Vox?” An irritated feminine voice answered the line.

“Velvette,” you said cooly. “I need a favor.”

****

Part 2 —> Chapter Index

[kooppss]

Bad Decisions

Sexy Disasters With Feelings series masterlist

Congrats! It’s a series!👶🏻 Things are starting to get messy—or messier than they already were. But don’t expect too much from these two; they’re still idiots. They keep playing games. A different game? Maybe.

warnings: cursing, immature behavior.

Word count: 2.8k

Fucking hell. 

How the hell did you find yourself in this situation? 

Ever since Jungkook told you he’s ‘thirsty’ for you, the fuck that means, you’ve done all you could to avoid him. It’s been a couple of days, and right now, you’re hiding in your room like you’re twelve.

Absolutely embarrassing. 

Your friends had told you it’s a bad idea to move in with the hot fuckboy. That it can’t end well. But you were determined it’ll be fine.

Stupid stupid stupid.

In your defense, it’s not easy to find a nice place at a good location with a decent price. The apartment is old and small, but it’s kept in good condition, and Jungkook is surprisingly clean and organized. 

Also, you felt like changing your environment after living with female roommates for the last couple of years. And with your limited budget, it felt like an opportunity you can’t miss.

So you went for it.

Of course, you found Jungkook attractive. And, of course, it was obvious from the moment you met him that he was a classic fuckboy. But you thought you had an unspoken agreement between the two of you—that hooking up would be a bad idea. That the relationship should stay completely platonic.

In the beginning, it seemed to work. You caught Jungkook checking you here and there, and it’s not like you cared. 

Well, maybe you were a little flattered. Just a little. 

But overall, you kept a coldish-friendly relationship. 

With time, you did get closer; you hung around with his friends, and he with yours. Sometimes, you spend the evening sharing dinners and watching TV together. But it wasn’t anything more than that. 

That was true until recently. Something has changed. 

Jungkook is more flirty and daring. It’s no longer a simple roommate friendliness. It’s teasing and smirking. Going around shirtless and throwing compliments. Saying he’s ‘thirsty.’

God, what he wants from you?

What twisted game he’s playing?

Doesn’t he know you can’t afford to lose this place? That it’ll crush your big-girl-handling-it-all-by-herself dream? 

That little shit. 

And it’s not like you’re looking to get involved with the poster child of being a fuckboy. You’re past your college years, and you learned your lessons. You’re not looking for this kind of drama in your life. You’re over playing with boys; you need to find a man. 

And Jungkook isn’t one. 

Oh, god.

Who are you kidding with this pathetic monologue?

Like you didn’t play right into his stupid game.

What are you talking about wanting a ‘man’ but entertaining Jungkook’s childish games? 

What the hell were you thinking? Playing along with his teasing? Where did you think it’ll lead you? To hell?

What good did it do to post that picture? 

You knew he was checking your profile. He made sure of it.

You know he knows that you know. 

And now, here you are, hiding in your room, like a scardey cat.

When you finished showering, you heard Jungkook return to the apartment and ran directly to your room. 

You heard him taking a shower, and now you can hear him in the kitchen. You smell something cooking. Fuck, it smells good, and you're hungry. Stupid Jungkook and his stupid cooking skills. 

He’ll share it with you if you’ll go out there.

Should you risk it and go out of your hideout, or should you starve to death? 

Death doesn’t sound like the worst option, actually. 

Your stomach growls. 

Shit. 

Maybe he’ll finish eating and go to bed, and he’ll leave you some leftovers, and you won’t have to die because you refuse to fuck another fuckboy.

You try to listen closely. Are you having hunger hallucinations, or do you actually hear another voice? 

You hear a loud laugh, definitely not Jungkook’s laugh. But it’s a guy’s laugh, for sure. 

Your stomach growls even louder, and you start to feel nauseous. Maybe going out now, when there’s a third person with you, is relatively safe. It’s not like he can do something when there’s another person there, right? Also, if he is having friends over, he’ll not be going to his room anytime soon. So unless you’re still considering death, you have to eat. 

And you think you are really going to die. And it’ll be embarrassing that he’ll find you dead in your room. What will the headline be?

‘Death by starvation; the unknown dangers of fuckboys’

Hell no. 

You brave yourself and go to the kitchen. 

Jungkook is standing by the stoves, steering something that smells delicious. From a brief look, it looks like some kind of fried rice concoction. Leaning on the counter by his side, you see his friend Hoseok, Hobi. His friend from college. He’s a friendly, handsome guy with a beautiful smile and a contagious laugh. You’re always unsure if he’s flirting with you or just extra friendly because you’re Jungkook’s roommate. He spots you and jumps to hug you, “Y/n! Long time no see. How are you?” You take a step back from his hug and see Jungkook looking over his shoulder with a smirk. 

That little shit. 

You want to punch his stupid face. But you ignore him instead; you’re not going to play with him any longer. 

“I’m good. Same old shit. How are you?” you ask Hobi with a smile. 

“I’m awesome. I just got back from a trip to Mexico. It was amazing. You should definitely go there. Have you ever been to Mexico?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer as he continues to talk. “The beaches there are amazing on another level. But it was so hot. On the first day, I got completely sunburned. I looked like a tomato the whole time.” He’s laughing while fishing his phone to show you the pictures. 

It does look amazing, and he is comically red in the photos. You definitely don’t have the funds to travel to Mexico anytime soon. Yet, it’s nice to dream. Maybe one day. 

He scrolls past his photos and gets to a picture of a nice apartment. A really nice apartment. 

“Is this your new place?” you look up at him as you ask. 

He nods enthusiastly, “Yes, I just moved in. You should come over sometime.” And there’s something teasing in his voice. 

Before you can answer, Jungkook abruptly says, “Are you eating with us?” in a too-loud voice while he’s watching you. His nostrils are flared and he clutches the wooden spoon with unnecessary strength.

Oh.

He’s mad. 

He didn’t like Hobi making a move. That’s nice..

Nope. 

No. 

No way. You said you’re not playing this game. 

Instead, you answer plainly, “If there’s enough for me, yeah, sure.” Like you didn’t just come out of your hideout just for the food. Like he doesn’t know it as well.

Hobi is looking a little taken aback by Jungkook’s reaction. His eyes shift between you and Jungkook like he's trying to figure out something. But there’s nothing to figure out because nothing is going on.

Nothing at all. 

Jungkook nods. He scolds his features into a calm expression and says in a more normal tone, “It’ll be ready in a few minutes. Take some bowls to the living room?” 

You silently move to the cabinet to grab three bowls and give them to Hobi before moving to take some spoons. 

You sit beside Hobi on the couch as he looks for something to watch while you eat.

He chooses some reality dating show he says is a ‘must watch,’ and he starts the episode before Jungkook returns, saying with a smile, “It’s not his thing anyway.” 

You laugh because, of course, Jungkook will think he’s too manly to watch something like that. 

After a few minutes, Jungkook comes to the living room with a steaming pot. He places it on the coffee table, takes one bowl, and pours a portion. You lean forward to serve yourself when he hands you the bowl he prepared. It takes you a moment to respond, but you take it as he shoves it into your hands. He then makes another bowl and hands it to Hobi before sitting on your other side with his own plate. 

Hobi stands up and says, “I forgot the beer. Who want some?” You nod, and he goes into the kitchen. 

You take a first bite of the food, and you don’t know if it’s because you're so hungry, but it’s fucking amazing. You let out an embarrassing moan, and you say, “fuck, this is so good.” 

Before you understand your mistake, you see Jungkook smiling by your side. But it’s not his infuriating smirk or a teasing grin. It’s a genuine, almost boyish smile. He looks so different, so soft like that. Big eyes sparkling with joy. You quickly avert your eyes down to your bowl. Because it does something to you. You feel your stomach moving, and you hope it’s from hunger. 

“Thank you,” he says, and again, it’s not teasing like you expect. He just sounds happy. He sounds pleased. And you don’t know what to do with that. He softly continues, “I can teach you how to make it.” 

What the fuck is going on? 

Before you can replay, Hobi returns with the beer.

You all sit and eat, watching the show. While you and Hobi place bets on who will end up together, Jungkook complains that the show is stupid, and ‘Who the fuck is going to reality show to find love?’ Valid point, but he just doesn’t get the pure joy of judging others’ mistakes. At least he is back to his usual self, which is better, safer. 

When you all finish eating, the guys choose a game to play. 

“Is it okay with you?” Jungkook asks you. 

You look at him, frowning. The question surprises you because why does he care? They can do whatever they want. 

“We can watch something if you don’t feel like it,” he continues before you answer. 

WTF? 

“I’m not really a gamer, but I don’t mind. I can watch you lose.” 

Jungkook giggles, and again, it’s not his usual cocky chuckle. It’s a cute giggle. 

Ah?

Jungkook? Cute?

A description you never thought you’ll use for him. That you shouldn’t use.

“Come on, I’ll show you how to play,” he nudges you with his elbow. Before he says with a smirk, “so I can beat your ass.” 

Aaaand he returns to his usual annoying self. Good.

Hobi burst laughing, reminding you he’s still there, “Just choose already who I beat first, you losers.” 

“In your dreams, Hoba,” Jungkook says as he sets up a match. 

They’re playing a Dragon Ball one-on-one fighting game. They play a few rounds before Jungkook insists you join them. He shows you how to play, but you fail miserably. Not managing to win a single game after the first mercy round. 

It’s still fun. 

You trash-talk each other, even if yours is void of substance. 

After another round you lose to Hobi; there’s a knock. Jungkook goes to open the door and returns with Jimin.

Jimin comes to the living room while Jungkook goes to the kitchen to bring him a beer. 

“Y/n! Good to see you,” Jimin greets you with a hug. He’s also Jungkook’s friend from college. Probably your favorite one. He is cute and flirty.

And completely gay. 

“What are you doing with these two losers?” he asks as he takes the seat beside you. You giggle when Jungkook returns, putting the beer on the table as he answers in your place, “Lossing miserably,” looking at you with his annoying smirk. 

You flip him off, “Fuck you.”

He flops on the armchair, taking a sip from his beer. 

“You wish,” he says with a pleased smirk. 

You roll your eyes, making a disgusted sound, “Eugh, I wouldn’t touch you with a stick.” 

Jungkook and Hobi laugh, and Jimin squeezes your shoulders, “Cuties.” 

You give him a death glare and shrug him off, “Fuck you too.” 

He leans back onto the sofa, taking a long sip. “No thanks, I just did,” he says with a huge smile.

You make a more dramatic, disgusted sound, and you shiver. “Ewe, don’t spread your STDs on me,” you say as you dust the imaginary diseases off your shoulders. 

“Don’t be sour because you’re jealous,” Jungkook says. 

You could strangle him, you swear. 

You squint your eyes at him, and he returns a fake glare at you, but he’s still smiling. 

“From the bottom of my heart, fuck you,” you bark at him. 

He leans forward in his chair, looking at you with a growing smirk, “From the bottom of my ass, you wish.” 

Jimin grabs the controller from your hands. “Okay, love birds. What are we playing?” and he starts another match. 

After a few more rounds and some more losing, Jungkook stretches and gets up, “Who wants another beer?” Both you and Hobi ask for another, and he goes to the kitchen. Jimin gets up as well, “I’ll come help.” 

“So, are you seeing someone?” Hoseok asks when Jungkook and Jimin are out of earshot. 

You turn to look at him, and you realize he’s sitting close. Closer than before. 

His gaze is intense on you, making you stutter a little when you answer, “N-No.”

He nods several times, like he’s processing, and then continues, “Is there something going between you and your roomie?” He asks with a smirk. 

“Jungkook?” you ask with a scoff. “No,” you add fast, firmly. Hoping you sound confident rather than guilty. 

He tilts his head to the side, keeping his gaze on you, challenging you. His tone is borderline mocking. “Sure ‘bout that?” 

You thought you liked Hobi, but you guess he’s still Jungkook’s friend. Something has to be fucked up about him. 

“Yeah?” you give a disgusted look. Because frankly? It’s disgusting, assuming you’re involved in any way with Jungkook. 

He straightens his head, smiling wider but without losing the teasing spark of it. He leans even closer, and you can smell his expensive cologne and the beer in his breath.

“So you definitely should come over to my place sometime.” 

Before you can answer, Jungkook comes from behind you, forcefully shoving a beer into Hobi's hands and practically pushing him back. You don’t know what he heard, but he doesn’t seem pleased. On the other hand, Hobi looks delighted. Saying a mocking “Thanks, Kook” as he sips. 

Jimin is placing a beer on the table in front of you, barely stifling a giggle. You say a quiet “Thanks.” This time, Jimin sits on the armchair as Jungkook takes the seat beside you. 

Hobi and Jimin exchange a look, while Jungkook pouts, looking annoyed. He takes the controller from the table and starts another match without saying a word. You don’t know how to read this situation. There’s tension in the room you’re not sure how to handle. So you ignore it, focusing on the game and drinking until it dissolves. 

When the hours pass, you don’t know how, but Jungkook gets closer and closer to your side. Until his thigh is touching your bare leg. The warmth that comes out of him makes you notice that you’re cold, even with the alcohol in your blood. You can lean closer to him and let his body warm you… 

NO.

What the hell are you thinking?

Treacherous thoughts. Get a grip girl.

You stand up abruptly. Feeling everyone’s eyes on you. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you say as you leave the room. 

You go to your room first, shutting the door behind you. You lean against the wall eyes shut, your hands clutch into fists on your hips. You take deep, relaxing breaths. You remind yourself that you decided you won’t fold into Jungkook teasing. That you’ll keep your distance. You will definitely not snuggle into his warm, solid, broad body…. 

NO.

You’re not going to go down this path. No fucking way. 

You take the bottle from beside your bed, drinking the remaining water. You need to sober up. Not so much from the alcohol; you drank only a couple of beers. But from his presence after you avoided him for days. It is like it affects you more now. Do you really have such a short memory? Do you need a reminder he’s an insufferable prick? 

You take a hoodie from your closet and go to the bathroom. There, you wash your face and give yourself a little get-your-shit-together pep-talk before going back to the living room. 

When you return, you hear the boys chatting, but as soon as you step into the living room, the room goes silent. It’s awkward. No one is playing anything now, and everyone looks tense. What happened? You quietly return to your seat, reaching for the controller on the couch beside Jungkook.

“Anyone up for another round?” you ask, trying to break the silence.

Jimin clears his throat. “Sure.” Hobi stands up to grab more beers, and you resume playing, pretending like nothing’s wrong.

Not long after, everyone starts to feel tired. Hobi orders an Uber for himself and Jimin. As Jungkook walks them to the door, you gather the empty bottles and head to the kitchen to load the dirty dishes into the sink.

Big mistake.

Huge.

You should have just gone straight to your room and locked the door. Because when you turn around, there’s Jungkook, leaning casually against the kitchen door. He gives you a smirk that can’t possibly mean anything good and asks—

“Had fun tonight?”

Back to series masterlist

[onnahu]

My boy's not making the best decisions for everyone else's sanity

[moonbils]

warnings: Mild chaos, questionable decision-making, and Billie being a terrible influence. No actual cleaning occurs.

paring: roommate reader x bestie billie

You’re lying on Billie’s couch, wrapped in a blanket, half-watching a movie when you hear a loud crash from the kitchen.

BILLIE (texting): small problem

YOU: what did you break

BILLIE: first of all, rude assumption

Y/N: …so what did you break

BILLIE: okay so technically the shelf broke itself, I just… helped

You sit up immediately. “What. Did. You. Do.”

Billie peeks around the corner, looking way too guilty. “Okay, before you get mad—”

You push off the couch and walk into the kitchen. It’s a disaster zone. An entire cabinet’s worth of plates and bowls are on the floor, an open bag of chips is spilling onto the counter, and a carton of juice is dripping off the edge.

You stare. Billie rubs the back of her neck. “In my defense… I didn’t think it would fall that fast.”

“You destroyed your kitchen over snacks?”

“It was an accident!” she says, then mutters, “Mostly.”

You sigh, grabbing some paper towels, but Billie stops you. “No, no. We do what any responsible people would do.”

“…Which is?”

She grins. “We pretend this never happened.”

Before you can argue, she’s already tossing a towel over the mess and steering you back toward the couch.

“Billie—”

“Shhh,” she says, flopping down dramatically. “If we don’t acknow

You cross your arms. “That’s not how cleaning works.”

She hands you the remote, looking entirely unbothered. “It is if you believe hard enough.”

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[trivia-yandere]

bad decisions

you're getting married on valentine's day - but somehow, you allow a stripper to fuck you in front of your brides' maids and maid of honor. @momnomnom @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @whipwhoops

word count: 1.252

warning: stripper jimin, cheating reader, affair au, public sex, voyeurism, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, slight girl on girl, creampie, bad friends lol, revenge plot???, it's 2 am and this is what i thought of, lolz,

Valentine's Day Masterlist

You were beginning to remember when your fiancee didn’t like your friends. 

“They’re single and you aren’t.” was an argument you heard often. “They’ll influence you to act just as single as them.” was another.

With each argument, you were stern in shooting him down, stating that even if your friends were single and a bit out there - you weren’t. But you would say that the problem came deeper than that. Your soon to be husband had his own secret affairs - a drunk one at that - that resulted in a pregnancy and a child he pays for monthly, but refuses to see. Maybe that’s why he believes you’d do the same to him in an act of revenge - but you got over that part in the relationship (even if your friends were upset with you). You loved him, you thought.

Now as you watch your friends, all equally as drunk as you - if not more - scatter around the man, all on their knees. The sight is truly a filthy one - the hotel room lights were dim while the music played in the background. The man - Jimin was his name - stands before your friends, a cocky grin on his lips. He isn’t hesitating in allowing your friends to wrap their mouths around his cock, even allowing his eyes to flicker to you every few moments.

You shouldn’t be here, were your sober thoughts. You were getting married the following morning to the man you loved - this was just a bachelorette party with your friends. A party your fiancee was worried about you attending, but you assured him that it would be nothing.

This…this was not nothing.

“Just try it, Y/N.” one of your friends - a bridesmaid at that - slurs from Jimin’s cock, her hand pumping it. “Live in the moment.”

“I’m getting married tomorrow.” you shake your head slightly, hot underneath Jimin’s gaze. You swallow thickly - Jimin is an attractive man. His eyes are as sharp as his jawline, and he understands his beauty. He flaunts it and had since he appeared in the room as a dancer - one you were not expecting to see. 

“On Valentine’s day?” Jimin questions, his voice soft and smooth - almost melodic. “How sweet.”

You gulp, feeling your legs tighten together. You were not a prude - you and your friends had been in this position many times before. You all watched one another act far too whorish with a man - but this was different. You were to be wed just tomorrow - and they were inviting you in this filthy mess.

“Then why not enjoy your last night as a free woman doing something scandalous?” Jimin questions. He wraps his own hand onto his cock - thick and veiny with a red tip - and begins to pump. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Your heart is racing outside your chest. You feel yourself become nauseous with Jimin’s stare - it’s as though the room began to spin and it was just you and him, you are under his spell completely.

You don’t realize when you yourself fall to your knees and you crawl to the man - not until your lips are around said cock and you’re sucking him. His hands are tangled into your hair and he’s encouraging you.

This is wrong, you tell yourself. You weren’t a free woman in the slightest - you had a soon to be husband. But the adrenaline running through you is intoxicating - it causes you to fit Jimin deeper and deeper into your throat until you’re gagging on him. And even then, you didn’t want to stop. 

Jimin’s moans hit your ears, his breathing hitching with each gag of your throat. Your fingernails clench his naked thigh to bring him even more - if possible - into your throat. You’re wet, lingering clenching onto your body so tight that you wish you could take it off and be free from it.

“Get up.” Jimin commands, soft voice bringing you back to reality. He removes his cock from inside your mouth, a string of saliva connecting it. “You’re sucking like you haven’t been fucked in years.”

Your friends are hollering, all clapping and cheering. You allow Jimin to take you to the large bed, pressing you firmly against it. 

“Your husband’s lucky.” Jimin cackles, as if taunting you - mocking that you were cheating on the man you are to be married to. 

The lingerie isn’t taken off of you. Instead, Jimin hooks a finger into your pantie and pushes it aside. He whistles. “So wet. I knew you liked me, baby.”

The bed dips, your friends surrounding you. One friend - your maid of honor - is behind you. She offers a drunk smile and nods. “It’s okay, Y/N.” she assures  - but it wasn’t.

Your maid of honor holds your arms as Jimin enters you. Your back arches and you release a deep groan.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Jimin laughs, picking up the pace of his thrusts. He’s unsure just how influenced you are with your friends, but it cannot be a good sign if you were willing to cheat on your husband so easily. Yet, he cannot be bothered to care. 

Jimin pounds inside of you, wet skin hitting one another. The voices of your friends are background noise, a mix of laughter, moans and claps. You aren’t sure which friend is clenching your breasts, but you’re positive one has her hands on your clit.

“This is the wildest bachelorette party I attended.” Jimin grunts as you clench around him. Your friends were far too into it as you were, a few kissing one another while the rest pleasured you along with him. If you did this before, he isn’t certain - but neither of you appeared shy.

“Does it feel good?” your maid of honor asks, coming down to whisper in your ear. 

“Feels so good…!” you exclaim, your juices coating Jimin’s cock entirely - you didn’t even assure that he wore a condom. 

“How about you cum in her?” your maid of honor asks, laughing at your fucked out expression. “Give her a little present she’ll never forget.”

Jimin shudders, eyes wide. What exactly was your friend suggesting?

No matter, he thinks. You aren’t protesting, so why should he?

Jimin drills into you even harder, hell bent on doing what your maid of honor asked. You’re not denying him, you’re moaning for more and more and more-

“F-Fuck!” you shout, feeling yourself come undone before them, your friends fingers overstimulating your throbbing clit. 

Jimin’s cock is coated white with your cum and he cannot help but cum himself. He trembles, unsure when the last time he came in someone raw like this - and it was just as exciting. 

You feel tired when Jimin removes himself from inside of you, unable to open your eyes fully. 

“We can pay you extra.” your maid of honor suggests, noticing that you have fallen asleep. 

“No need.” Jimin murmurs, eyeing your sleeping figure. “What did you mean by leaving her a present she won’t forget?”

Your maid of honor chuckles. “No doubt she’ll be pregnant.” she says nonchalantly. “That husband of her’s cheated on her first and had a child. Y/N’s just dumb and agreed to stay with him. I say it’s karma. A little revenge.”

Jimin watches as your friend giggles even more. “Watching him raise another man's child while he ignores the child he had when he cheated on her.”

Jimin swallows, unsure of what to say in the situation. 

It was none of his business, Jimin thinks.

[badomensgoodomens]

BAD DECISIONS

CHAPTER TWO.

Noah Sebastian X reader

cw: emo. and mention of taylor swift. if u have a problem with that please get over it.

taglist at bottom of post.

He stared at the computer in front of him, nothing was working, the lyrics weren’t flowing and he was just a mess. his knee bounced up and down, his thoughts constantly went back to her, it had been a week since she completely shut him out. Blocked him and removed him from everything. All because he couldn't give her what she wanted. 

he jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock on the door. “Come in” he croaked out, Nick's face scrunched up as he entered the studio, wincing at the bags under Noah's eyes. “You look like actual shit man.” he states, setting down a plate of food. He pulls up a chair next to him, grunting at the way it scraped along the wood floors. “Right, you won’t talk to jolly, you won’t talk to nicholas, what's got your knickers in a twist?” he said, resting his hands on his thighs. He came from good intent obviously, but it was painful how the boys wouldn't leave him alone. 

“What are you? The fucking IRS?” Noah grumbled, picking at the food. “Is it a girl?” Nick asked, taking notice of the way Noah tensed. “It is a girl!!! Tell me everything.”

“Dude. you're crazy. If an art hoe is in love with you, you gotta bag her.” Nick said, nudging Noah. He shook his head, sighing. “You know I'm not ready for that.” Nick audibly groaned. “It’s always Natasha bro. You need to get over her.” 

“I am over her! It’s just…” Noah took a deep breath. “You know how I am with commitment after that.” 

Nick sighed,  his shoulders visibly dropping. 

“Lets get you into some therapy, hey?” 

She was gutted, crying to every single Taylor Swift song that was even remotely related to her current situation. It took her a couple days to even leave the house.  No long drive through the city, accompanied by fast food and sad songs, could save her from this. Her sister, Nevada, always told her never to fall too hard for a situationship, but I guess that advice fell on deaf ears. 

‘Us’ played over the radio as she cruised through the bustling city part of florida. 

‘I wonder if you regret, the secret of us’ 

Hearing those words sung was almost laughable, she was a silly girl for ever believing that she was in love. Tears clouded her vision as she drove, rain beating down on her windshield. It was only September, yet the seasons were changing drastically. 

“I just wanted to be yours.”  

The words came out in a broken whisper, almost a plea. Truth be told, she barely knew Noah. Never cared to look into his social status, his music, what he was like other than the feeling of his sex. She had created this false idea of what he was outside of sex. It made her want to tear her hair out.

Eventually, she couldn’t go any farther. She pulled over, her hands shaking as she gripped the steering wheel, tears blurring her vision until the world outside became a hazy mess. She sobbed, gasping for breath, as though trying to expel the weight that had settled deep in her chest. All she could think was that she was waiting—for a sign, for some kind of message, anything that would make sense of the chaos, that would make this unbearable ache stop. A text. A call. A word, just one word to tell her it wasn’t really over, that there was still something left to hold on to.

It was a futile effort, her and Noah meant next to nothing. How is one supposed to build a thriving relationship off of a sex bond? 

After a long phone call with her sister, she came to the conclusion she needed a change of scene. This town had seen too  much of her, from every highschool heartbreak, to coming home at 4am from the club. Her art was never appreciated here either, no success at markets, or even by word of mouth. Her day job was excruciating, a boring cubicle with endless paperwork. Multiple times she’d considered giving up, leaving this boring life to live in a trailer park with some junkies, or move to LA and become a stripper. 

It took awhile, but she packed up her studio, and her small townhouse, and took the long drive across to her sister’s house in California. Nevada had so graciously offered her a job as the barista in the small, quaint coffee shop she and her husband owned. She fell in love with Dawn in senior year, she was a cheerleader and he played in the band. He had successfully set off within the music industry, thus providing financial support to nevadas small coffee shop that probably loses 30k a year.

After a terrible night's sleep in a cheap, shitty motel, she pulled up to her sister's big white house. They both welcomed her with open arms, setting up the guest bedroom to be her temporary home until she got back on her feet. Her paintings being stored in the back shed. 

For a while, things had been good. She was in a better place mentally, her routine steady with a reliable income from the coffee shop. Life in California was finally starting to feel right—like everything was falling into place. But then, as if on cue, her past came rushing back. Her ex from high school walked into the café, his new girlfriend in tow, and just when she thought she had control, disaster struck: the back shed went up in flames.

 Her ex was just taunting, but the shed was gut wrenching. Her past lay scattered like ashes in the wind, each memory a flicker of flame extinguished, leaving only whispers of who she once was. Just as the remnants of a life turned to smoke drift into the afterlife, so too did her former self dissolve into the ether, leaving behind a haunting silence where laughter and light once thrived.

Dawn apologised profusely, explaining that his electrical gardening equipment had spontaneously combusted, turning everything, including the shed exterior, to ash. She brushed him off, it wasn’t his fault whatsoever, it was just daunting that she’d have to put all that behind her. 

It was going to happen inevitably, but a more appropriate exit would have sufficed. She managed to book some therapy sessions. Just barely being able to pay for them. I mean, music in itself was a perfect form of therapy, 

“It only hurts this much right now.” 

Were the words she whispered at the beginning of each session. They were draining, and fried her social battery almost immediately. But they were helpful. Dr Sanchez was able to help her label the fact she allowed herself to fall easily, despite knowing the boundaries of their situationship. 

It was hard, having to deal with the different diagnoses that came with therapy. Especially how Dr Sanchez was able to offer medication for Adhd and anxiety. It made her question a lot about her childhood. Her dad, who was never there, did not believe in mental health, much less not abusing his children. Her mom however was riddled with mental health issues, which definitely contributed to the divorce. Hence why Nevada was so quick to move away.  

9/10 times when she got home from therapy, she would escape to her room. Instead of painting, she opted for drawing, sitting in front of the big window. The sun set, illuminating the soft pout of her lips as she concentrated, and the small dimples in her cheeks. She watched as the cars drove past, taking note of the gradual transition to headlights. Her mind subconsciously drifted back to her old life, having pondered so much of it with Dr Sanchez, it was almost a daily occurrence. 

He had spent the past month drinking himself hopefully into a coma. He was butthurt for no reason, not even about y/n, but about everything, about Natasha. He had a nightmare about her recently, it set him back quite a bit, almost reversing all the therapy it took to get here. It was then that he made the conscious decision to take folios advice, and go back to therapy. 

He kept drinking for a while after that, despite Jolly's constant complaints. Some of his best songs had always come from his drunk thoughts. Right now, they were deep into working on their newest album, fine-tuning each track. It was a shift in direction—blending elements of The Weeknd’s atmospheric style with hints of Bring Me The Horizon’s intensity

At the start of their new album cycle, Noah had 3 demos in production. The songs were oddly personal compared to previous albums, the boys just assumed Noah was finally channelling and dealing with his emotions through song following his return to therapy. 

Not one week goes by where Noah doesn’t ponder about what could’ve been, with both Natasha and y/n. They honestly didn’t live far, Noah even considered visiting them. I’m sure Natasha would’ve been thrilled, y/n not so much. Didn’t stop him though, a whole year after they stopped talking, Noah found himself planted in front of y/n's house. Standing face to face with an empty block of land. 

‘Fuck.’

It invoked something in him, an odd feeling that left him feeling unsettled and kind of woozy. He didn’t love her, he swore up and down he’d never date someone again. But as he slowly pushed his pride and fears aside, maybe she had wormed her way into his heart. With her warm skin and the scent of her perfume, or perhaps the cheeky smile always slung across her face. 

It made him a little suicidal that he had somebody infront of him, that despite the sole purpose of their relationship was to be greedy, and seek sexual pleasure from eachother with no strings attached, was so, so deeply infatuated with him. He felt guilty that he wasn’t ready and in the right place to hand himself over to someone, yet still agreed to be friends with benefits. It was a selfish act, nobody could connect in the way that they did, and not fall in love. 

Nothing has ever felt so wrong. 

Tour had kicked off, something to distract Noah. He wrote and scrapped so many songs in the two years he had between touring. His song writing, and the new album sumerian was egging for, were a losing battle. 

On a particularly windy night, Noah was sitting in the confines of his tiny bunk, hunched over his notebook. Nicholas poked his head in, staring at the tall man, concern lacing his tone. “You look like shit.” his words echo within the bus, earning a grunt of agreement from Joakim. 

Noah rubbed a hand over his face, the words scribbled on the page barely making sense. “I know.” he grunted, crossing out a line. “Look, i get that sumerians on your dick about the new album but-” Noah cut him off, waving his hand in his face. “I don’t have time for a break. I’ve pushed it back far enough.” Noah grumbled out, pulling the black fabric of his curtain along the rod, concealing himself from his concerned bandmates. 

‘I’m taking it slowly, you’d never know’

‘Her skin feels unholy, but I'm still drawn.’

‘No god, no religion. Just bad, bad decisions.’ 

The words made no sense by themselves, but they sounded right. He took a swig of hennessy, the bitterness burning his tongue. it almost made him laugh, thinking back to that night. Their relationship was just one, big bad decision. 

‘Bitter ends to the night’

‘I'm along for the ride.’

‘Out of breath out of time.’ 

‘Everything has a price.’ 

The way everything flowed together made Noah want to tear his own skin. 

‘You can be all ive got, what's the difference?’

‘Hennessy, and a lot of bad decisions.’ 

The song itself made Noah think deeply if perhaps everything that happened had stemmed from his ‘slight’ alcohol problem that had lingered from the stress of last tour. He had managed to polish off a whole bottle of hennessy and a whole new song by 2am. Drunkenly sliding under the covers to fall asleep.

He awoke to Nick and Nicholas standing above him, reading the notebook he had forgotten to stash away. Immediate regret filled his stomach, this is not what he needed.   

“Yooo is this about art hoe? Damn bro she got you messed up,” Nick said, laughing. 

“Who the fuck is art hoe?” Nicholas says, brows furrowed as he read over the lyrics. 

Noah rubbed his hands over his face, groaning internally. He was hungover and not about to deal with their shit today. 

READERS POV

I tied the apron around my waist with a weary sigh. Morning shifts at the café were always tough. It was early November, and winter was starting to creep in, its chill settling in the air. After flicking on the lights, I got to work, preparing the weekly specials with practised ease.

A small interchangeable collection of cakes Nevada and I designed. I’ve taken an interest in design lately, taking short classes at the local uni. I was gradually ticking off the long strenuous list of chores when the bell above the door rang. Looking up, I met the eyes of a happy looking boy. 

“Hey, what can I get you?” I smiled up at him, his dark brown hair was loosely combed back, his nose adorned a silver ring, a grin on his face. 

“I’ve got quite the order, if you don’t mind.” he said, pulling his phone out. I internally groan, peering over the counter to the long message laying out his order. 

“Okay.. perfect. Let me just type that into the system..” I hummed, lip between my teeth as I focused. “Alright, name?” I said, looking up at the boy, taking notice of the casualness, and sweetness radiating off of him. 

“Nick” he replied, a small smile on his face. He really was beautiful, ugh. And youthful, how old was this guy? “Alright, that’ll be $63.80” I respond, a little astounded myself at the price. “Fuck, sorry one moment please.” he smiled, pulling his phone out. I make myself busy, cleaning up my mess from before,  managing to catch on briefly to the end of his phone call conversation. 

“Alright, I'll just use the band card-” 

Huh. Maybe this guy is a musician or something. I've definitely dealt with a fareshare of musicians. 

All done?" I asked, smiling at him. He nodded, handing over the payment for the drinks. The bell above the door jingled as Nevada rushes in, offering a flurry of hurried apologies as she quickly tied her apron and hurried behind the counter.

It took a while, but we finally sent Nick off with his seven drinks. The day moved slowly after that—Fridays aren’t exactly prime café days. Most people prefer hitting up bars or catching a gig. I used to enjoy concerts, but these days, I’ve become more of a homebody.

“Yo dude i saw the cutest girl at the coffee shop-” Noah groaned, having heard enough of Nick’s questionable relationship choices while on tour. “No- seriously, she had this long, thick hair. She probably has a boyfriend though. Californian boys snatch the hot ones up real quick-” fuck? This kid was yapping. 

“Do you say that about every girl you see?” Jolly snorted, throwing a pillow in Nick's direction. He scoffed, throwing it back. The smaller boy sits down next to Noah on the bunks, handing him a controller. “You’re all so uptight, come on, play a round of mario kart with me.” 

Nights like these always ended the same, drunk rounds of mario kart followed by play fighting until everyone was too tired to move. The sun set hours ago, yet Noah found himself sitting on the bus roof with his notebook. The creative flair just wasn’t quite there though, the page having been empty for the past hour. He was feeling so many different, violent emotions, yet none at the same time. It was hard to portray these emotions in a controlled way, especially during tour. He tried not to let the boys see him when he was most vulnerable, wanting to maintain the respect they had for him. It was unrealistic, almost like a ticking time bomb. 

When Noah went back inside, Nicholas, his best friend, was the only one still awake. They sat opposite each other on the leather couch, beer in hand. “How’s the missus?” Noah slurred, taking a swig. “Ivy’s good, I really wanna marry her, yaknow?” Nicholas slurred back. The mention of marriage knocks the breath out of Noah’s lungs. “I wanted to marry Natasha.” he drunkenly murmured, slumping back on the couch. “I think she was a porn star.” Nicholas mumbled, his words make Noah laugh.  

She laid staring at her ceiling, the window, which faced the city, was cracked open the slightest. Something so melancholic, yet comforting about laying in the dark, just feeling feelings. 

Not even about anyone in particular, just feelings.

She knew she needed to be awake at 6am for work, but the feeling pooling in her stomach was addicting, overwhelming, and most of all, fucking amazing. It was like a coil, seconds away from laughing, seconds away from crying. 

hi gang!!! see, this one is somewhat better than the first chapter. I understand if you feel that this story is moving too fast but honey... this is just the beginning xoxo.

reply to be added to the taglist x

Tags: @emluvsuxo @Ima1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @briefpersonenemy

[alphabetboyluvr]

BAD DECISIONS - SMUT INDEX

BD MASTERLIST  | WATTPAD Ver.  | A03 Ver.

pairing: bartender!jungkook x female reader | strangers-friends-lovers, fwb

synopsis

it's simple: write your deepest darkest fears on origami birds and string them up on jungkook's ceiling. when they fall—which they inevitably will, thanks to his cheap daiso washi tape—you have to face the fear. set it free. the issue? you've a fear of intimacy. jungkook, a fear of rejection. and you've both got the capacity to make some incredibly bad decisions.

note from holly: ask and you shall receive!! i was asked about a list of all the smut chapters in bd, so figured it'd be easier for me to make a masterlist - this took hours because I had to go through the entire story (which is like 450k words LMAO), but if you notice any missing, let me know!! all chapters linked will take you to the wattpad ver.

minors dni

Bad Decision #2 – Park Jimin

tags/warnings: jimin lol, drunk hook-up, slight dom jimin, bratty oc, spanking, fingering, protected sex, fully clothed, no orgasm for oc

Bad Decision #11 - Perry

tags/warnings: first shower, no smut but a lil nakedness

Bad Decision #12 – An Agreement

tags/warnings: mutual masturbation birdie, jk gets himself off in the bathroom sink <3 oc gets herself off in his bed <3

Bad Decision #13 – Work of Art

tags/warnings: Jungkook discovers boobs <3, breast play, nipple play, mirrors, paint (?), shower, mutual masturbation (for realsies this time), he finishes on her tummy <3

Bad Decision # 14 – New Rules

tags/warnings: mirrors, pussy worship, jk has the biggest boner known to man, fingering, one, two, three fingers! Orgasm for oc!!

Bad Decision #15 – Paper Planes

tags/warnings: cockwarming (that escalated!), hand job, fingering, protected penetration (safety first!!), oc on top, mirrors (they love them!), nose nudging!!!, clitoral stimulation, ‘good girl’, both finish &lt;3

Bad Decision #17 – Jeon Jungkook

tags/warnings: cockwarming 2.0, oc is bad a maths!, touching each other up above their clothes <3, mirrors lol ofc, nipple play, spanking, tittie sucking <3, fingering, neck kisses, unprotected (!!) penetration, cockwarming that accidentally becomes fucking! Oops! Jk on top, multiple positions, finishes on her back

Bad Decision #20 – Park Jimin… Again

tags/warnings: oops (kinda wild seeing the progression from 17 to 20 like this lmao), drunk hookup, blowjob, no oc orgasm <;/3

Bad Decision #23 – Cherry Picking

tags/warnings: most read chapter! Fun facts! tipsy hook up, oral (f receiving), pantie sniffing?? lmao, panties in oc’s mouth??? Lol, tittie sucking, spitting, jks nose <3, fingering, oc orgasm!! FIRST KISS!!!! Unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he finishes on her tits <3 and licks it up <3

Bad Decision #24 – Resolutions

tags/warnings: hangover sex, shower sex, slight degradation, use of the word slut in a sexy way, praise, temporarily withheld orgasm (f), switch dynamics, unprotected sex, orgasms (f, m), he finishes in her mouth &lt;3

Bad Decision #25 - January

tags/warnings: fingering, f orgasm, mentions of the erotic accordion lmao

Bad Decision #26 – January, Still

tags/warnings: the tie chapter <3 what he does with the aforementioned tie I shall not get into but it’s pretty self-explanatory, oral (f), fingering, lil spanks, rimming (f receiving), spitting, unprotected sex, doggy, finishes on her back!!

Bad Decision #27 – Keeping Quiet

tags/warnings: this ones a lil angsty!! ‘if you’re here to fuck me, then fuck me. If not, you can go.’, they’re fighting but theyre needy! And tipsy! Bad idea!!!! Unprotected sex, kisses ☹ many kisses ☹ she wants him to finish inside ☹ he doesn’t ☹ mmmm rereading this one made me so sad lol! Sad smut!

Dad Decision #28 – Avoidance

tags/warnings: a lil? Lap sitting?? Dry hump??? Not really smut lol

Bad Decision #29 – ‘Daddy’

tags/warnings: the first of the polaroids, slut (affectionately <3) not smut as such, they’re just sorta working each other up

Bad Decision #31 – The Photo Booth

tags/warnings: all the build up for a blowwie without there being an actual blowwie lol (payback for the daddy thing), cute little lick of dick <3 lil precum swap <3 jk outrageously horny for the rest of the day, the photobooth pictures!!!!

Bad Decision #32 – Question…?

tags/warnings: jk’s parents kitchen, freckle kissing chapter!!!! <3 <3!! He finally gets that blowjob!! Fingering, he calls her baby sooooo much ☹ interrupted!!!!!! Nearly caught! Spend the day horny AGAIN, the conversation in a chicken shop is not the kind of conversation you should have in a chicken shop, jk quite literally wants to drown in you <3 TO THE LOVE MOTEL WE GO! Very needy, very desperate, very good <3 unprotected sex! Missionary! Tittie sucking! Ankles over shoulders! He’s going to town! CREAMPIE ! WE CHEER! Brief mentions of fucking again and him finishing inside her AGAIN

Bad Decision #33 – Boundaries (Or Lack Thereof)

tags/warnings: kisses ☹ so many ☹ ‘last time’ energy ☹ ‘chess’ ☹ against their better judgement, and despite their earlier restraint…. Oops! Shagging! Tittie sucking, dry humping (so not dry), 69, ass eating (f receiving), edging, fingering, clit spanks, squirting, unprotected (v quick!) sex, creampie, happy customers all around (until the next bird falls!)

Bad Decision #37 – Faking It

tags/warnings: angsty!! They are annoyed!!! Dominant jk!!! Arguing in a janitors closet at an art gallery!! Over her ex!!! He’s sooooo mm mm mmmm 😊 lots of ‘good girl’, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, tittie sucking, he wanks himself into her underwear!! While she’s wearing them <3 ‘gonna cum in ur panties, and then ur gonna wear them all night’ <33 they have a show to return to after all!!! He’s being like… so possessive but in a sexy way!

Bad Decision #40 – Spinning Bottles

tags/warnings: sex toys!! M & F !!! solo masturbation for oc, jk hears lol (floorboards are thin!), mutual masturbation, but like way hotter than normal, he’s soooo needy!! Beggy!!! Kisses!!!! Fleshlight creampie lmao, oc cleans it up for him 😊 with her tongue!! Cum swapping <3 so kissy, so lovely <3

Bad Decision #41 – Locked Doors

tags/warnings: shower sex, he like… fucks the little gap at the top of her thighs? Lol, kissy kissy mwah mwah, jk is like… totally in love! Mmmm he compliments!! Pretty standard shagging mechanics, emotion heavy, he finishes inside <;33

Bad Decision #43 – Circles

tags/warnings: dominant oc!! The neediest, whimper-iest handjob known to man!! She calls him a little slut <3 edging!! Oral (f), fingering, his hand is a necklace! Dominant jk! Oc rides!!! Seven had just been released! Sue me!!! Hair pulling, are they fucking or fighting idk, power struggle but sexy, kisses <3 cum! Everywhere!!! Titties and mouth <3 many seven references

Bad Decision #44 – Skinny Dipping

tags/warnings: pretty standard shag tbh, there are people in the rooms closeby but jk simply doesn’t give a shit, creampie, fingers in creampies lmao, eating creampie, too!!, finger sucking, multiple orgasms

Bad Decision #45 – The Rule of Five

tags/warnings: sofa shagging in lieu of speak about feelings! Kissing but v important kissing!! A little bit of cockwarming, unprotected sex, bed sex, creampie, all the good stuff you usually get with bd <33 squirting, jk is so lovely <3

Bad Decision #47 – Time Out

tags/warnings: a lil dry hump &lt;3

Bad Decision #48 – Bickering

tags/warnings: mutual masturbation <3 sex toys (f), he fucks her with it <3 then licks it clean <3 kinda deepthroats it actually lmao, cums on her tummy <3 more polaroids <3

last updated: 20230914

[tanema123]

Part 4 of Just not Velvette.

A huge plot twist?!?!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

@seramilla 😋

[clubdionysus]

TEASER [BD #61]

a/n: we've reached the uncharted territory of being caught on here! never thought i'd see the day!! chapter 61 isn't yet finished, but i'd like to give you a little something to tide you over---kofi subscribers will have already seen this (I do teasers and early access type things over there! (and on that note, kofi girlies, I'll have something for you tomorrow!)), but it will be new to most of you! hehe hopefully I shouldn't keep you waiting too long for the rest of the chapter x

wc: 1.4k (takes place midway through the chapter!)

Life dissolves with Jungkook. Days merge into one. Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time just melts.

So does Jungkook, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. Turns into a supernova like stars often do.

He lets himself merge into a shared identity with you. Is certain it isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship. Doesn't care, regardless.

Days have rolled on by since the auction without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jungkook’s had meetings with realtors. Everything has happened with little thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jungkook’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way. 

You spent so many years fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jungkook’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost.

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him. 

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter. 

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jungkook. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jungkook is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can.”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jungkook nods. 

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend. You’re supposed to help.”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. Also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look. 

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat. 

Jungkook is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jungkook. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you to never play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get free access.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him. 

He nods. 

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him all while under the ruse of thinking he’s a bullshitter. 

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your king, and had been preventing Jungkook from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made. 

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but—fuck—he’ll never understand your brain. You're so smart most of the time, but every now and again your brain seems to melt.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check. 

Mate.

Groaning, you realise what’s happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There’s no way Jungkook actually enjoys this. 

“Not again,” you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jungkook’s ceiling. It’s without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

“B,” Jungkook laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You’ll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, “What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king.”

“I tried!” You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

“You left him wide open for me to take!”

“You could have gone easy on me!”

“I was!” He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. “I swear you didn’t listen to a single thing I told you—”

“I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place,” you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn’t deserve niceties in times like this.

He’d argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against your throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Go on.”

“Strip chess.”

“Pervert.”

“For every move you make, I’ll take an item of clothing off,” he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a sock on either foot, and underwear — that’s only five moves, but then again, Jungkook normally has your king trapped by that point.

“I think you’re just trying to get me naked.”

“I’m always trying to get you naked, B,” he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. “So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?”

[verso-abstracto]

Mi decisión era clara; pero esos ojitos llorosos me hicieron desistir.

Papittafritta

[paradoxical-ataraxy]

[ifoundmyselfinwonderlandd]

Say that again... I liked it 😏

[brawnsleloenigmadoublesonic]

I think the Jettwins and Bumblebee should become earth's most annoying and concerning polycule. Waaaay too much energy and they all refuse to reign each other in. They've had to visit Ratchet so many times because they've had an 'awesome' interface idea and just went ahead without thinking.

Absolutely. They're all such horrible influences on each other... Honestly, who thinks trying to stuff a full barrel of oil up a minibot valve is going to end in anything other than a trip to the local medic???