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pwarkluv · 4 years ago

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❝ idk you yet ❞ - p.js

park jisung x reader | angsty, fluff | 1.6k words

WARNINGS | TW: mentions blood, abuse, drug and alcohol abuse, smoking, lowercase au, non-idol au, high school au, badboy!jisung, mature language/cursing, reader is like an angel sent from heaven for him, jisungie just in need of love :(

SUMMARY | being an outcast has him wondering if he’ll ever be happy. cue you, the new girl, stumbling into his life (literally).

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “idk you yet” by alexander23! also AHHH this is my 100 followers special fic :) THANK U LOVES FOR 100 IM SO SHOCKED CJSBFKEJD <33 the writing is a little crappy because i’m currently on my period and my patience for sitting down and writing this went down halfway through lol but I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, ENJOY THIS JISUNG FIC BC JISUNG MY BABIE AND SO ARE YOU GUYS!

whenever anybody thinks of park jisung, they think of the chains and dark clothing he wears. they think about the faint smell of smoke and men’s cologne that follows him wherever he goes.

they think of the boy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.

but what they don’t think about are bruises on his face he fails to hide whenever he walks into school, the dejected look on his face whenever random people give him disapproving looks, the way his smile slowly faded into a permanent frown wherever he went.

jisung quickly accepted his reputation at school and in their little town, not having enough energy to feel insecure about it like before.

the only group of people that even remotely cared about the boy were his best friends in the whole entire world, nct dream.

they were outcasts just like him, the most “fucked up group of boys” in their town (the people’s words, not theirs).

see, they were your typical bad boy group straight out of your typical fanfic. bad grades, smoking in their free time, getting into fights, always being late to class; not a single person had hope in them.

but behind their scary and intimidating facade, all seven boys were big softies with misunderstood hearts and difficult backgrounds.

people were just too dense to look into it, only judging them based on their looks and personality on the outside.

❝ how can you miss someone you’ve never met ❞

love was a foreign thing to jisung, the only form of love he’s ever felt being from his friends. his parents were… interesting to say the least.

jisung’s father was a hard-core alcoholic, his mother being a major druggie. with no siblings in the house, jisung was usually their main target to push around and beat up.

and so because of this at a young age jisung learned to distance himself from other people and found different ways to release stress.

he started smoking when he was 14, the warm and hazy feeling of the smoke entering his lungs comforting him.

if jisung humored himself enough, maybe smoking could count as his first love. it was always there for him, never leaving him alone even if he wanted to quit.

he relied on it knowing it was the only constant in his life.

now of course the boy has heard of proper love, love like in the movies or shitty romance songs he hears on the radio.

and he won’t lie, there were moments he thought about what it felt like to be in love. but he knew that would never happen, at least not in their small town anyways.

he just wanted to be loved.

jisung would never admit it but sometimes he’d be jealous of the old couples walking down the street in their own world like it was just them two against the universe. he was jealous of the happy kids running around, their mother’s and father’s fondly smiling at their child. he was jealous of all the “normal” kids in his neighborhood.

jisung wanted that, craved that.

but most importantly, the boy wanted love.

❝ cause i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

everything hurt.

his head, his body, his mind, his heart; everything was in pain.

jisung walked down the empty streets of their city, a trail of blood following behind him as he accepted his fate. the boy was 99% sure he had a concussion and at the very least had a few broken ribs.

he felt like this was the end, and he was ready.

wandering aimlessly around town, you decided to take a late night walk to familiarize yourself around the area. you had just moved into the city a week ago, spending all seven days trying to help your family unpack and rearrange your cozy new home.

now that you were finally free of the smell of tape and the dust of the boxes, you decided it was best to get to know the place you were living in.

the autumn air seemed to settle at night as you shivered, cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket of some sort. the sight of a convenience store up ahead of you brought you relief as you rummaged through your pockets wondering if you had enough money for ramen.

your steps became excited as you found a couple dollars, fondly thinking about what type of ramen you should buy. you became so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice the poor boy who was staggering in front of you, or the trail of blood he left behind.

jisung pushed himself to reach the convenience store a couple feet away from him, in desperate need of supplies to at least try and fix himself.

if it didn’t help in any way then oh well, maybe death was indeed an option.

grinding his teeth though the pain, he did not expect to feel a small body bump into him. had he been at his regular health, jisung would’ve easily been able to keep still but because of how much blood he was losing the boy was knocked down like a bowling pin.

“holy fuck.” jisung cursed the feeling of the concrete floor colliding with his ribs. he didn’t even notice the girl who had bumped into him sitting on the floor dumbfounded, freaking out over his state.

“oh my fucking god.” the girl said, capturing his attention. jisung glared at the stranger, mentally acknowledging the fact she was pretty.

but her being pretty won’t get you anywhere, he scolded himself. she’ll leave you just like everyone else.

“a-are you okay?” she said, eyes glancing at his black eye. jisung rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “does it look like i’m okay?” he replied, his deep voice catching the girl off guard.

“just, fuck off.” jisung said closing his eyes as he laid back down on the floor, knowing he couldn’t force himself to get up anymore. he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know she left, hearing the sound of her footsteps walk away.

the boy sighed as he laid idly on the floor, wondering what sin he committed to lead him to where he is now. not even she wanted to stay, the tears threatening to fall as his thoughts buried him alive.

“why can’t i just die?” jisung said out loud, asking no one but himself.

“because i won’t let you.” a voice replied as jisung forced himself to sit up in confusion. it was the same girl he had bumped into, but this time she had a first aid kit with her. he gave her a lost look despite knowing what she was here to do.

jisung’s mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that a total stranger would even bother to help him.

“now sit up.” she said softly as she bent down to open the box, the boy slowly followed her instructions. “i’m sorry this might sting.” she said though jisung didn’t mind because she was much prettier up close.

the next ten minutes were you trying to fix his wounds against the shitty chairs outside the convenience store.

jisung didn’t even bother mentioning his broken ribs, not wanting you to freak out. you cleaned up what you could and the boy was beyond grateful for that.

you subconsciously rubbed his back in a comforting way whenever you’d apply alcohol to his open wounds, trying to ease the sting. you held his hand for him to hold and though he was a big boy and had a high pain tolerance, he still gave it a squeeze just to keep your hand there. what the actual fuck is this feeling, jisung asked himself as he watched your determined figure work on him.

it was cold and in order to better work on his wounds, the boy offered to give you his hoodie which strangely had no traces of blood on it. you gladly accepted, the faint smell of blood and his cologne engulfing you up.

the sight of you in something so big and so him made his chest swell in pride.

jisung couldn’t even formulate a sentence as you cursed at the time once you finished patching him up, fleeing the scene before he could say anything with a small smile, his hoodie still on.

❝ and can you find me soon because i’m in my head ❞

the thought of your soft hands on his, your voice, your whole presence; everything about you couldn’t seem to leave the poor boy’s mind. it was now monday, and waiting for his class to start already made him want to go home.

if only i got her name, jisung daydreamed with his head resting on the palm of his hand. the classroom was loud and bright, people occasionally giving him looks but the boy didn’t mind.

“jisungie~ did you hear we have a new kid?” jaemin asked, poking the boy’s cheeks. the boy only gave him a pointed look before sighing.

“hyung i don’t really care.” jisung replied, looking back out the window.

jaemin only gave him an offended look before grumbling a bit. “i don’t know maybe you will.” he muttered under his breath as their teacher walked into the room.

❝ yeah i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

their homeroom teacher stood in front of the class, jisung tuning out his voice. the boy once again sighed as his teacher called for their attention, explaining they had a new girl in their class. “now make her feel welcomed,” he said before turning towards the door.

“y/n, please come in.” the teacher said and jisung almost fell out of his seat when he saw you walking through the door with the same smile you gave him a couple days ago.

“hi i’m y/n and i hope we can get along.” you bowed to the class, a familiar hoodie you were wearing catching his attention.

isn’t that mine, jisung thought to himself as he bit back a smile knowing you kept it all along.

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zukkacore · 6 months ago

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Please don't feel bad for putting all your thoughts here!!!! honestly i 100% cosign and agree and i would much rather just Have the Discussion than feel the need to be coy abt it in the tags anyway. Anyway fuck my old restraint to just talk abt dnd overall im gonna go full blorbo-pilled this is about my favorite sopping wet beast. I feel like there's a general posture when i try to tackle the Jace Conundrum with any reading besides the one intended by the text that I'm inherently being defensive abt him, which i guess I am? But also, y'all don't understand. If the text is telling me to point and laugh at jace for being stupid, don't worry. I do. Readily < 3 (seriously, what's the point in having a blorbo if you can't laugh at his expense a little)

That being said, I don't LOVE ascribing intent to bleem when i cannot know what is in his heart, but I just feel like im chewing on drywall bc i feel like im pointing out the watsonian and the doylist reading of the text are just coming across completely differently when it comes to jace and whenever i express that its like. Oh no you're overthinking it. It seems pretty clear (in my opinion!!!!) that the text is trying to ascribe a "jace is privileged, jace has always had an easy life, the second he came up against one smidgen of resistance he caved b/c everything has always been tee'd up for him b/c of inherent magic, and now he is teaching that elitism and complacency to his students. And also he's kinda just dense and stupid and incurious" perspective on him and why we should not therefore feel sorry for him, which i think is a partial truth (& it is probably not a coincidence that his design is that of a white blonde man etc etc) but clashes with all these like other details in the show that are being taken pretty seriously. That seems like the obvious reading for how we are Meant to absorb his storyline. Plus the fact that he's a minor character so truly it is ultimately Not That Serious. I just think that that takeaway is so hard for me to earnestly buy as thematically coherent when we're seeing all the systemic schooling components that are making the bad kids lives miserable. Gorgug's terrible awful very bad no good year trying to get the MCAT thing sorted (multiclass commonality). Adaine having financial barriers to succeeding in class (barriers to succeeding in wizardry. Another commonality). Kristen being disadvantaged bc she has to make her own meaning and likes the idea of self determining but has this very disorganized way of thinking that makes sense in her head but is hard to communicate & is not accommodated for w/in the school system (the i have a hard time applying myself but the Girls Who Get It Get it vibe. Another commonality). Fig being naturally good at many different hats but also not being a traditional studious person & straight up deciding school is not for her! "I can't, I tried" holds hands with all their struggles!

Plus i meant what i said the other day when it was like. I just don't understand how anyone can take his "we just sit around and talk abt how great having innate magic is" comment at face value when the sorcery class would realistically be dealing with so much inherent volatility. I can buy that Jace's life has always been easy. I do not buy that he could coast by on doing nothing in that class, just knowing how sorcery actually works in dnd vs. the tone the text is trying to convey. The internal logic just does not make sense in my brain that he's telling the truth. Not every sorcerer is Penelope Everpetal. Some of them are Pete Conlan. It's not the doylist intention—again, i cannot say w/ 100% certainty but i will guess with probably too much unearned confidence that the statement is meant to be taken at face value (kinda absurd anyway considering he's lying the whole season abt what his other responsibilities are anyway which makes everything he says kinda suspect but anyway)—but if we remove intentionality from the analysis, it reads way more like something he is saying to be cavalier or nonchalant. (Friendly unassuming jace is a facade truthers literally rise up)

Nevermind the fact that I think "sit around all day and talk about how great having innate magic is" is not nearly as clear cut a "wow this guy sucks at what he does" statement as the paralanguage is trying to convey. Like we both agree sorcery is about self confidence, self control, etc. I made the theater teacher comparison for a reason. Some kids cannot be taught acting technique because the entire period is spent just getting them comfortable being on stage. And the risks of it being with kids with innate magic is like. Infinitely higher! Especially when they're coming into this school potentially viewing their magic as a burden or a danger. i also see this discussion with like. librarians and just getting kids to Start Reading. Like you have to meet them where they're at. You can't throw shakespeare at a kid who hates reading, if you want them to approach the subject with any kind of excitement, and you DON'T shame or tease them when pick up graphic novels bc that could be the bridge for their momentum. And i LOVE analysis, I'm such a turbo nerd and art rules are made up but at the same time learning about forms helps artists better articulate their aims! If i could throw every fourteen year old into reading shakespeare with excitement by analyzing the form, i would. But like. that's not how it works. And that's not a pure absolving of his teaching style. This is why my "he's great with the freshman, and terrible with the seniors" joke is a joke, but it feels true in spirit, to me anyway. Like, once these kids know what they're doing, they need a little more, and imo due to the limitations of his perspective, Jace cannot provide that. The girls who get it, get it. Schrodinger's good/bad teacher jace thesis is my truth. But this is not me saying my interpretation is fact or the only way to read that line, this is me asserting that the paralanguage is aiming to convey one reading (jace is a bad teacher), but i think the word choice leaves a lot more room for varied interpretation.

Btw i 100% agree that with the impracticality of the wizard multi-class, it feels like there could be an emotional reason for him wanting to multi-class. That feels like a logical conclusion. I think Jace tends to be written off as incurious, which i think is mostly true but literally "i can't i tried" indicates that was not a lifelong trait, at least to me. I think it's interesting when i talk to jace agnostics (aka my beloved friends irl who endure my bullshit) and to cite someone specifically (sorry if im throwing u under the bus), a friend said that they basically chalked the reasoning up to arrogance. Which i guess coheres with what the intended takeaway is meant to be for Jace. basically "i'm already good at everything i do and born naturally gifted so why not do this other thing just to prove i can" which. Makes sense. And I love when jace sucks so I'm not even opposed to it. But I do think ascribing arrogance to his character based on the handful of things he's said is like... It's definitely there, but we also see so little of him that even arrogance doesn't feel like a completely definitive character trait? Like. I think the reason arrogance gets ascribed to him is bc of the "how great innate magic is" comment and the calling wizards stinky thing. It's all we have to go on but it's also so sparse. And again, i'm doing a cringefail apologetic restorative reading of everything he says bc i like him, but i don't think those two interactions are enough to fully condemn him for arrogance. Maybe that's just me. I do think its interesting to see people's gut reactions to the "i cant, I tried" joke. Bc my friend was basically like "oh yeah that's just a natural extension of him being a conceited asshole who thinks he can do everything but has never had to work for it". Honestly, fair. Meanwhile maybe bc i was already biased i was like wow. Deeply pitiable. Deeply Baffling. Understandably played for humor, but feels like such an off the cuff joke that has implications that are NOT grappled with. And I just think we're primed to take Adaine's side in that interaction b/c obviously she's a protagonist, even tho saying "you could take a level of wizardry" to a sorcerer is kinda baffling! Little does bleem know how sick in the head that one line made me. I genuinely was such a jace agnostic before this.

I think i'm just a little too close to this issue to be fair abt it tho. As someone who DESPISES incuriosity, I get the whole Wizard understanding the fundamentals of the universe thing. As someone who is a very pedantic and obsessed with precision of lanugage and goes on these like weird riz spirals abt everything, I do not personally relate to the Girls Who Get it Get it thing (i do have problems with overexplaining but again that's bc im anxious about my precision of language) but my best friend is someone who struggles with brain fog in a way that they often feel very frustrated by their limitations with communication and are just like "why can't i just gesture wildly. You get it. you get it. right", maybe i just feel for him more than average. ALSO not to be cringefail but yeah, I got told i was bright as a kid then bombed my sophmore year of high school honors b/c i wasn't used to working for things. What about it.

Hi do you. By any chance want to expand on both 1) Sorcerer Wizard and the dichotomy and 2) Sorcerer trans thoughts??? Bc BOY I would LOVEEEEE to hear them if you’re willing to!!!

Hiiiii beloved old man yaoi mutual anyway sorry this took a hot sec bc I do have more thoughts on this but tragically they’re kinda formless and incoherent. Prepare for the unorganized paragraph monster. Anyway I’m like pretty bad at understand dnd as a system but I have seen other ppl who are actually better versed than me express like. A sorcerer / wizard multi class is pretty counterintuitive. And like, if that’s part of the character arc that’s fine, obviously with Gorgug it was an intentional character choice and they made a profound point of of him doing unexpected and not typically “optimal” just bc he liked it & bc of that he has a perspective on rage AND artificing different from everyone else. Idk if im over explaining the obvious with the like, oh wizardry is abt understanding the fundamentals and components of the arcane it’s abt studying the world whereas sorcery is abt control and understanding of the self etc etc. like described as the ability to “project one’s will” into the world and the meta magic mechanic is a way to actualize like. Being able to literally change the rules of magic (honestly very interesting and cool imo).

Like, I don’t think they HAVE to be opposed in terms of what they’re doing, if you think abt it like. Art rules ya know? Like you gotta learn the fundamentals and the rules before you can break them. So I could see that being a reason to study wizardry. And if your character just has a natural curiosity than sure. But also, I GET the reason why it’s an impractical build and a weird choice for a character beat bc the drawbacks of losing high level sorcery aren’t really compensated for in getting some wizard levels. Esp bc they’re different casting modifiers or whatever, int vs charisma. Like you have to have a high modifier in both to even make it worth it. AND on a character beat level, not to make this JUST abt our favorite sopping wet cat Jace stardiamond but like. Wouldn’t it be kinda counterintuitive to learn all these rules and fundamentals of magic and everything in those classes is saying THIS is how it works meanwhile there is something inherent in you that could change that? And I was like oh haha trans bc it’s abt saying like oh something essential is actually less rigid than you think + projecting your will is in my mind kinda like the ability to self-determine?

At the same time the counterpoint to this is that sorcery is about inherent magic so that IS like oh this is essential to your person. At the same time I feel like the distaste toward sorcerery bc it’s inherent or essential is kinda unfair bc like? Yeah divine right is not real, someone being inherently divinely powerful is not a thing in real life but also how different is that from the divine right of being a chosen one for a deity (like. Not to go toooo into fantasy high but Kristen IS a chosen one). So I get the counterpoint that sorcerery is bad and essentialist but eh? Like take it for what it represents on a thematic level, don’t take it so literally.

Not to backtrack but I don’t think self knowledge vs worldly knowledge HAVE to be fundamentally opposed, but I do think one class transitioning into the others would be really difficult bc it’s someone learning a system and realizing actually it’s bullshit and broken & malleable vs. someone who intuitively GETS that rules are kinda just made up and the education system is saying no this is truth. Despite everything about you being a contradiction to that. Like, I feel like a sorcerer is coming into low level wizardry learning “you can’t do 1 - 2” and intuitively they go but you can? But at that level it’s like no, you’re not ready to teach someone just being introduced to those concepts abt negative numbers abt imaginary numbers etc etc etc. (similar w biology. Like yeah we all took 7th grade bio where we learned there are 2 sexes. But actually the human body a lot more varied & complicated than that. These are rigid categories we made up to “better” understand things or articulate a certain idea but they also cause systemic harm) Also. There are some particles that behave differently when observed. I respect the wizard’s quest for knowledge as someone who is a turbo nerd. I respect it so hard. But also. I get why riz spirals abt it. It’s hard to be bleem coded and love complete taxonomies when you know the world is a lot more complicated than that. I get why a sorcerer wouldn’t be able to hack it. Again not to make this abt blorbo from our shows but the failed to wizard multiclass thing opened SUCH a can of words in my brain…..

#jan.ask #jan.reply #jace stardiamond #q

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gamerwoo · 4 years ago

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[SKZ Imprinted] Minho: One-Eighty

anonymous asked: HI! CONGRATULATIONS! you deserve each follower you're writings are amazing (even tho I don't have the time to chatch up with TFTP nor the Xperiments but I'm dying to) 🥺For the Stray Kids imprinted can I request one for Minho? I don't have anything in mind but like...fluff i guess? I really don't mind I would probably like anything you write.Once again congratulations! And have a happy evening!

Characters: Minho x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, college au, barista au, just a lot of fluff and maybe some humor sprinkled in for funsies, a hint of angst at the end but the ending to this part is still happy i swear

Word count: 4,240

Summary: Minho’s always been a ‘sarcastic asshole’ as his peers call him. He’s a great guy, sure, but let’s just say he’s not the best at making friends. But when he meets you, a whole new world opens up for him, and he wants to learn more about it from you.

a/n: i’ve been listening to strangers like me on repeat all day bc of something else i was working on, so yes this is 100% inspired by that song lmao

Previous | Next | Imprinted Masterlist

Chan returned to the table with their orders, freshly made by Felix -- and partially Sam, but she was mostly focused on inventory at the moment since the café wasn’t too busy. Chan handed out the drinks to their respective owners before he sat down and sipped from his own cup.

“Hey, Felix,” Minho called, sitting on the back of his chair with his feet planted on the part he was actually supposed to sit on. “This sucks, can you remake it?”

Unamused, Felix looked up from the blender he was now cleaning in the sink, “Y’know, it would be a shame if you were to fall backwards and smack your head off the floor, causing you to lose your memory so you can’t be rude to me at work.”

“I’ll push him for a dollar,” Changbin offered casually before taking a sip of his own beverage.

“I’ll pay to push him,” Seungmin scoffed.

“Okay, okay,” Chan tried to settle his pack -- especially before Jeongin showed up because they knew he’d already be in not-the-best mood, “let’s not get started, please. I don’t need all of you wrestling each other in the middle of Felix’s work. It’s good at least one of us has a stable job so let’s maybe keep it that way, yeah?”

“Aeri has a job,” Minho shrugged. “Just make her your sugar mommy.”

“Minho, you’re going to make for a really shitty mate,” Jisung told him.

And it was funny he said that, because it was then that the bell dinged softly. Nobody was paying attention to it -- except Felix, of course -- because then the pack at the table began bickering about how Minho was going to treat his mate.

Nobody was paying attention until you walked by the table to get to the counter, and then you were all Minho could pay attention to. As soon as he caught a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye, his eyes followed you as you walked up to the counter. His brown eyes widened, his jaw going slack s the world around him faded away, leaving just you and him.

“Uh oh...” Hyunjin giggled.

“Quick, someone push him,” Changbin whispered.

“Sammie!” Felix called to the back. “The new girl’s here!”

“Ooh, and it’s Felix’s new coworker,” Seungmin grinned almost evilly. “This should be good.”

You had applied to work at the café because you wanted some extra money. Would it make it difficult to have a social life since you were already going to school? Yeah, but you weren’t one for going out a lot, anyway. You mostly stayed inside and just texted your friends instead.

The girl who had interviewed you, Samantha, came out from the back and grinned at you, “Hey, _____. Ready for your first day?”

“Well, guess we’ll find out what kind of mate Minho’s gonna be,” Chan chuckled staring at the boy who was still staring intently at you.

It took a lot to drag Minho out of the café, but Chan and Changbin managed to drag him back to the apartment.

With Aya no longer living with Chan, the two boys moved in and took over. Changbin and Minho had to do rock, paper, scissors for the bedroom, but Minho ultimately won. There was that time, though, where her and her mate, Jeonghan got into a bad fight and she moved back in. Minho and Changbin shared the living room, and that was a mess.

Minho laid face-up on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he thought about you. He didn’t expect imprinting to his so hard. For the first time in his life, he was speechless. He wanted to go talk to you, but what was he supposed to say?

“Hello, I’m Lee Minho, and I’m in love with you. Let’s get married.”

No.

“Do you even know how to confess to anybody?” Chan had asked in the car on the way back home. “You’re blunt, but you’re not good at expressing your feelings, either.”

“Yeah, how the hell is that possible?” Changbin had asked.

Minho knew they weren’t wrong. He was the type of guy to blatantly tell someone their shirt was ugly, but at the same time, his previous relationship ended because his boyfriend said he was bad at communicating. Minho himself wasn’t even sure how he could be so upfront but still so awful at telling people how he felt.

So how was he supposed to get you, his mate, to talk to him and ultimately accept him if he couldn’t talk to you?

“See, I told you morning rush isn’t that bad,” Felix grinned brightly at you. “That’s the good thing about working near a college campus: hardly anyone yells at you because everyone our age is full of anxiety.”

You laughed, “Yeah, that’s a perk. But uh, I should get going to--”

“Oh, hey Minho!” Felix cut you off, waving to somebody behind you.

You turned to look at the door, seeing a slightly familiar boy walk in with his hands stuffed in his front pockets. You were pretty sure he was one of the rowdy boys sitting at one of the tables yesterday when you’d walked in.

“Hey, Lix,” he nodded before standing at the counter.

“Just take Minho’s order, then you can clock out, okay?” Felix told you.

You locked eyes with Minho, and he smiled softly. That smile didn’t leave his face as you punched in his order and took his card. It never left until he stepped to the side and Felix began talking to him while making his order so you could go punch out before getting to class.

“So how’s that uh...problem?” Felix asked with a smirk.

Minho rolled his eyes, “Shut up.”

“Have you figured out how to talk to her yet?”

“If I did, don’t you think I would’ve made a move?”

Felix walked up to the counter and slid Minho’s drink over to him, “Can I offer some advice?”

“Absolutely not,” he scoffed. “You were so bad at trying to talk to Sam. If you help me, she’s gonna leave the country.”

“Well it can’t get worse,” Felix shrugged. “It’s not like you have the best track record with girls.”

You caught the butt-end of their conversation as you walked back out, raising your eyebrows, “What about having a bad track record with girls?”

The two boys turned their attention to you. Minho’s low-set brows suddenly raised as his sour expression dissipated when he looked at you.

Felix turned around, and an idea suddenly clicked in his head. He smiled at you before he turned to look at Minho, his smile turning sinister.

Minho gulped.

“Actually, _____,” Felix began, “I think you might be able to help my good buddy, Minho.”

“Ooh, is it girl problems?” you guessed, walking up with your bag slung over your shoulder, placing your palms on the counter as you stood beside Felix and looked between the two boys.

“He’s got a big crush on this girl but he’s never been great with like, expressing feelings and being romantic,” Felix explain with a clearly teasing look on his face, loving that he was embarrassing the hell out of his brother. “Can you teach him that stuff?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you thought it over. Did you have the time? Would your brother get on your case about it?

Eh, he had been away on a mission for a while, and you didn’t expect him back soon. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt. ...Right?

“I’ll tell you what,” you began with a half-smile, “I can help you after my trigonometry test. I really have to study for it because I’m not doing too hot, so I don’t really--”

“I’m good at trig!” Minho blurted before he could even think over what he was saying. “I can tutor you!”

You blinked a few times at the sudden offer, while Minho was questioning what possessed him to suddenly say that. Sure, he was good at trig, but was he actually ready to be around you and speak to you? Could he manage that? Probably not, but now it was too late.

“R-really?” you asked.

“Perfect!” Felix grinned. “He can tutor you in trig, and you can tutor him in dating. Everybody wins!”

You nodded, aiming your smile at Minho again, “Cool! How does tomorrow afternoon sound? We can meet up here?”

“Yeah, perfect, awesome,” he nodded, hardly processing anything.

“Sweet,” you grinned bigger before you went to the opening at the counter to leave. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, Minho!”

You waved before you jogged to the door and left, leaving the cafe with just Felix and Minho. The younger boy looked at Minho with a smirk, reaching over to poke his chest.

“You’re welcome.”

Minho’s loving gaze turned cold as he glared at Felix, “I’ll kill you.”

“What, why?! I got you an in, bro!”

“I don’t know how to talk to her and now I have to!”

Felix just shrugged, “Not my problem.”

The next barista coming to clock in walked in on Minho lunging across the counter to grab Felix by the collar and choke him out.

It was a good thing Minho was tutoring you and didn’t have any work of his own to do because there was no way in hell he’d be able to focus on it. You were just too cute when you were confused and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, even as you leaned over your notebook to scribble down answers that he was trying to help you with -- he originally offered to just give you the answers, but you scolded him for that and said you needed the method of getting said answers to be explained.

“If I don’t know how to do it, how am I gonna pass?” you had asked.

“Easy,” he shrugged, “if you can get your grade up high enough, failing your final won’t even be a big deal.”

“Minho!”

So now here the two of you were: you with your brows furrowed in concentration, and him simply admiring you while you weren’t looking. Then you’d lift your head up, and he’d try to act like he’d been looking around or something while you were busy writing notes.

Outside, his friends just ‘happened to be walking by’ and decided to stop to peer in through the window. Minho was too busy chuckling at something you’d said, but Felix noticed from behind the counter and smirked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like that,” Seungmin commented.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile,” Changbin scoffed.

“They’re kinda cute, though,” Chan shrugged. “They’re like, so opposite, y’know?”

“Except he turns into a huge softy when she’s around,” Seungmin replied. “She would never know he’s the world’s biggest pain in the ass.”

“He’s not even that bad,” Aeri spoke up. “He’s just a little...sarcastic sometimes.”

Seungmin side-eyed her, “Yeah, I guess that’s a word for it.”

Back inside, you were finally able to close your textbook. While you were enjoying being tutored by Minho -- he was very kind, very polite, really funny, and he explained things in a way you understood and was very patient with you -- you still weren’t too into having to do homework. Nothing could make that fun, not even Minho.

“Okay, so...should we move onto my first lesson?” Minho asked slowly, eyebrows raised.

You let out a little huff as you managed to put your heavy schoolbag on the table and began shoving your work inside, “This was your first lesson.”

“I-- Huh?”

You laughed softly and turned your head to look at Minho. You didn’t know how fast his heart was beating seeing you smile at him like that.

“Lesson one: talk to her. You passed,” you told him.

“But-- But--”

“For these lessons, I’m gonna have you pretend I’m the girl you like,” you explained.

‘How fitting,’ he thought to himself.

“So you’re basically gonna practice on me. We’ll work our way up to like, dates and stuff. Next time I see you, I want you to practice flirting. Okay?”

“You want me to flirt with you?” he asked.

You nodded, “Yup. I mean, unless this whole thing is too weird. I can come up with a new--”

“No!” he blurted.

Outside, the three wolves could hear the conversation and shook their heads at his embarrassing outburst.

“He couldn’t make it more obvious,” Changbin sighed as he facepalmed.

“At least she seems oblivious,” Seungmin shrugged before muttering, “No wonder she’s failing trig.”

Chan whacked him in the shoulder, “Be nice.”

“I-I mean,” Minho quickly tried to compose himself, but his nerves were getting the best of him, “this is fine. I can do that.”

You smiled, “Okay, cool. Then I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Same time and place.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

You flashed him one last smile as you stood and grabbed your bag. Quickly Chan, Changbin, Seungmin, and Aeri began shoving each other away from the window to hide beside the building, pressing their backs against the brick wall so you wouldn’t notice them.

“She’s coming, shh,” Changbin shushed, hearing your footsteps approaching.

They saw you walk by them, your eyes staying forward the whole time. They thought they were in the clear as you had just barely passed by them without a glance or a word.

“Hi, Minho’s friends,” you greeted them suddenly without a passing glance.

You continued walking to your destination, leaving the four stunned. They pushed themselves away from the wall, watching your back as you carried on down the street.

“How did she know we were here?” Aeri wondered.

“I...don’t know,” Chan replied slowly.

You spent every single day for two weeks together with Minho. The first couple days were spent with him trying to flirt with you. Both of you were surprised by how naturally it came to him. But honestly, Minho realized that when it came to you, the smooth lines that came out of his mouth just made themselves. You were pretty, funny, smart -- there were endless things he could use to flirt.

But flirting was something he already had practice with. He was good with the cheesy stuff where he could smirk and say something smooth, and whoever his target was would swoon, and that was that. But it was all the cute stuff that he was bad at.

So the next step was new to him: small but nice gestures.

“Opening doors, pulling out chairs,” you listed off, “just little things like that. Small things that show you care enough to do those small things.”

That wasn’t anything he was really too familiar with. He’d done things like buy his boyfriend a coffee when they were together, but that was really it. He’d never done little gestures other than that. People were capable of opening their own doors, weren’t they?

“But...why?” he asked.

“Why what?”

“Why do stuff that they can do themselves?”

You shrugged, “Because it’s sweet. It doesn’t matter if they can do it themselves, it’s the thought that counts.”

Just to prove a point, you had gotten up while Minho was in the bathroom to order what he typically got at the café -- you asked Sam to make it extra good -- and had it waiting on the table for him when he got back while you continued to work on the trig problem he briefly explained to you.

“What’s this?” he wondered, picking up the coffee that said his name with a heart under it on the side of it.

“The coffee you like,” you replied. “I got it for you.”

His curious expression melted into a smile as he looked at you, his heart skipping a beat, “But you didn’t--”

He paused, realization hitting as he nodded slowly, “Ohhhh, I get it now.”

From then, on, Minho would do little things for you. Every other day, you had a drink waiting for you on the table with your chair already pulled out. Minho once brought you flowers to work even though he wasn’t even ordering anything from the café. He showed up at your classes a few times to wait for you and walk you to your next one or to your car or have lunch with you.

It quickly became something Minho didn’t consciously think about for an ‘assignment’. He just did it because he wanted to and he wanted to see you. This whole world of cute relationship stuff was new to him, but he loved it when it came to you.

Unknown to him, a lot of this was new to you, too.

Slowly, you moved along, working your way up. You taught him about every cute thing that came with relationships to woo this girl he liked. Until finally, you were nearing the end goal.

He was tutoring you once again, watching you fondly as you scribbled in your book. You never caught him staring, but he was always staring when you weren’t paying attention. He was surprised he even managed to tutor you the last couple weeks without getting distracted or flustered or called out.

When you were finally done with tutoring for the day, you gave Minho his next assignment as you were putting your things away.

“I want you to ask me out,” you told him.

His heart stopped, completely forgetting that you were just assigning him a task. His cheeks turned pink, “Y-you-- What?”

“The date will be like your final,” you explained. “So ask me on a date, plan said date, take me out, and I’ll decide if you’re ready or not.”

Then everything clicked, and he let out a breath. He nodded, trying to not let it show that he had panicked from what you said.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “I can do that.”

“You have a week from the day you ask me to plan the date,” you told him. “But don’t ask me right away. I wanna be surprised.”

“Why?”

You shrugged, “Makes it more realistic. I’ll see you Monday!”

As you turned and walked out of the café, Minho just watched you. He had to take you on a date now? Sure, it wasn’t a real date, but still!

“So what’re you gonna do?” Felix asked, breaking Minho from his thoughts.

Minho turned around to see his brother standing behind the counter, arms resting on it as he looked at the older boy with raised brows.

“I dunno, ask her, I guess,” he shrugged.

Felix let out a sigh, “No, I mean are you gonna confess yet or not? That was kind of the whole point of this, remember?”

No, Minho didn’t remember. He forgot all about that. He was too busy getting wrapped up in the world of being all cute and romantic that he forgot you were basically training him to ask out, well, you.

“You’re gonna ask her out, take her on the fake date, and then what?” Felix asked. “Tell her after the date that she was the person all along?”

Minho’s brows furrowed, “Is that a bad idea?”

“I don’t know, you’re the expert on being cute and romantic now,” Felix chuckled. “You figure it out.”

He had a point. Minho was practicing for two weeks now. He should be able to figure this out himself. And dammit, he was going to make sure to impress you.

Sundays were your day off. You never had anything going on on Sundays. No tutoring, no work, no school. Just you and your TV.

And your brother, who had called you to check in.

You were close with your brother. Though, the last couple weeks, you tried to distance yourself more and more from him. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, you just...started to not really agree with some of his beliefs and morals.

It was the typical “how are you?” “how are things?” “what have you been up to?” kind of conversation for a little while. But then things started heading exactly where you expected.

“Have you heard from Elsie?” he asked, and you could hear the slight annoyance in his tone.

You let out a sigh, “No. I would’ve told you like you told me to.”

You knew that your two siblings didn’t get along. Elsie was adopted into your family and at first, the three of you were close. But some big disagreement happened between her, and your brother and his friends. She ended up leaving home and having no contact with either of you -- not that she had an issue with you, but she didn’t want your brother to end up giving you a hard time. She wanted to keep the issue between her and them, rather than dragging you into it. So for you, she stayed away even though you missed her. She changed her name and left, and you hadn’t heard from her since.

“How’s it going with Minho?” he wondered.

“I’m...working on it,” you decided to say.

“That doesn’t sound too great,” he chuckled. “_____, you know if this is too much for you--”

“No, I got it,” you quickly -- maybe a little too quickly -- reassured him. “He’s not like, too much to handle or anything. It’s just... It’s taking longer than I thought. But it’s working.”

“Good! I’m proud of you!” he said, and he sounded genuine. You knew your brother just wanted you to succeed. This was your first time doing anything like this, and he was rooting for you -- you knew that. “Just let me know if you need any help or anything.”

There was a knock at your door, and you just knew who it was. You paused, staring toward the door.

“Hey, can I call you back later?” you asked. “My food just got here.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he replied smoothly. “See ya!”

The line went dead, and you put your phone down on the coffee table before going to the door. You knew lying to your brother wasn’t your best move -- especially since you knew how much trouble you’d be in if he found out -- but you were nervous to tell him who had actually shown up -- especially when he wasn’t supposed to. Your brother knew Sundays were for relaxing and being alone. He’d probably get worried or suspicious knowing a certain someone had shown up, and then he’d end up coming over. You didn’t need that happening.

You unlocked the door and opened it, revealing a nervous-looking Minho.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked him, genuinely curious.

Minho looked at you with wide eyes as he rubbed his hands together, trying to somehow relieve some of his anxiety. He took a deep breath and tried to remember what he’d rehearsed to say.

But he blanked. So he just spoke.

“I want to take you on a date,” he blurted.

You raised your eyes in surprise. You figured that was what he was here for, but was that really how he was asking?

“Minho--”

“It’s not for the assignment,” he quickly clarified before you could say anything about the assignment. “I’m asking you on a real date -- an actual date. _____, you’re the girl I didn’t know how to talk to.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Minho continued to ramble.

“And I know you wanted me to ask you out on a fake date in some romantic way, but I’d rather be honest and tell you beforehand. And...I don’t know, I think a confession is still pretty romantic, right? So...yeah. I want to ask you on a date, but a real date. I like you, _____. A lot.”

By the time he was done talking, you were laughing softly. Not like you were laughing at him, but you were laughing because you thought the whole thing was silly but in a cute way.

“Yeah, I know,” you admitted.

Minho seemed even more scared now, “You knew?”

You nodded, “I had a feeling. But my answer is yes. Why do you think I butted in? I didn’t know you but I was offering to help.”

“I-I thought it was for trig...”

“No, that was just a bonus,” you shrugged.

“O-oh...” he trailed off as his eyes found the floor, feeling more confused than ever. But his eyes lit up as he looked at you. “But you’ll go out with me?”

“Yeah,” you grinned.

“Cool,” he gave you a relieved smile. “But can I ask...how did you know?”

Maybe you should’ve left that part out. Because what were you supposed to say? You knew because you felt the pull, too? That you knew what that feeling you got when you first saw him was? That you knew he was a werewolf? Then you’d have to tell him everything else about your brother and why you applied for the job at the café in the first place. You’d have to tell him what the original plan was until Minho went and fucked it all up and you started to fall for him.

Maybe you could tell him that later. Maybe when he admitted to you first that he was a werewolf. Maybe. But not now. You wanted to have your moment.

So you just smiled and shrugged, “I just had a feeling.”

456 notes · View notes

1kook · 4 years ago

Text

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3 word count: 8.7k

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him.

And then winter comes.

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years.

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household.

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute.

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets.

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick.

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house.

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable.

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold.

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him.

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional.

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.”

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before.

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again.

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty.

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house.

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions.

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever.

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through.

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times.

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner.

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong.

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor

You blink.

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago.

Oh, so this was new.

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on.

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again.

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy.

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning.

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest.

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you.

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck.

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss.

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?”

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck.

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest.

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck.

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds.

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy.

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side.

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?”

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again.

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip.

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers.

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct.

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip.

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt.

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery.

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again.

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him.

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored.

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately.

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth.

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again.

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate.

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear.

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum.

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad.

So you do.

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm.

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes.

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth.

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet.

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves.

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that.

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t.

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him.

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully.

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed.

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight.

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off.

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly.

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you.

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face.

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch.

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble.

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?”

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls.

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy.

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully.

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip.

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite.

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely.

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why.

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now.

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months.

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—”

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions.

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing.

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss.

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat.

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss.

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty.

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off.

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up.

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good.

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading.

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds.

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it.

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan.

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...”

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick.

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you.

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you.

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his.

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.”

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks.

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt.

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips.

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.”

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin.

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm.

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you.

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success.

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself.

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell.

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle.

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out.

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart.

To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death.

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying.

It fits perfectly.

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #goldenclosetnet #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jjk♡#jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #mine

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plant-flwrs · 4 years ago

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hi! i absolutely love your writing!! can i request a pureblood slytherin (kinda mysterious?) reader x george? muggle-borns call her the child of the cheshire cat bc her mischievous smile says it all. so when the twins escape the professor, she answers in riddles to not blow their cover. you can add on to that, thank you!! 🧡🧡

mischief // george weasley

masterlist!

a/n: i love your request so much!! i’m sleep deprived rn so i apologize if none of this is coherent or good, but my tiny brain did it’s best. hope u like it!!

summary: George falls for the mischievous pureblood Slytherin who couldn’t care less about blood status.

(3.1k)

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“You’ve never seen Alice in Wonderland?”

“No,” Ron groaned, annoyed with Hermione’s better-than tone.

“When would he have seen Alice in Wonderland, Hermione?” Harry asked, also annoyed with the two’s constant bickering.

“It is a book too, you know, he could have picked it up and read it any time he liked,” Hermione defended, sticking her little nose into the air with purpose.

“Will you just tell me what it means?” Ron pressed.

“It’s a reference. The Cheshire Cat is a mischievously annoying animal. It would mislead and annoy Alice,” Hermione explained, trying to simplify the characterization for Ron.

“So why do they call her that?”

“Because she gives us the creeps, she’s evil looking,” Harry answered, shuddering his shoulders slightly.

“She’s actually quite interesting,” Hermione said, “if you gave her a chance.”

Harry rolled his eyes, having little sympathy for any pureblood Slytherin. Ron’s face showed him to be in deep thought, and Hermione returned to her Divination work.

You were perched in a shadowed corner of the library, twisting the ends of your hair in your fingers. Pansy sat across from you, reading her Potions textbook with great concentration. You hummed to yourself, a dull smile on your lips.

“Y/n,” Pansy spoke slowly, tearing her eyes away from the textbook and showing it to you, “do you know what this means?”

You looked intently into the notebook, your head nodding slowly as you read the page.

“Yeah, it’s applying the absorbing properties in lizard scales to the enlarging properties of ogre’s root. All the other stuff is there to make sure you don’t die, probably,” you said, handing Pansy the textbook back.

She made an “oh” noise, finally understanding the potion.

“I don’t think this school could be any more boring if it tried,” you groaned.

Pansy gave you an entertained smile and returned to her book.

Your gaze had drifted to look out of the window when you heard a loud crash.

Your head snapped to where it came from and your legs were moving before you had realized where they were going.

You came to stand right in front of three crashed bookshelves, little Cornish Pixies rolling around in all the books that lay on the floor.

You watched two red-headed boys doubled over trying to catch the Pixies in their outstretched hands.

“What happened here, boys?” you drawled, leaning against a book shelf that still stood upright.

“Shit!” one of them shouted, clutching his chest with this hand, “Scared us.”

“You gonna stand there, or help us?” the other said, not lifting his eyes from the Pixie he just managed to shove in his pocket.

“I think I’ll watch for now,” you quipped, a smirk reaching your mouth.

You watched them attempt to gather all the Pixies, until all three of your heads shot up at the heavy footsteps of McGonagall.

“What on earth?” she started, and you watched the twins duck behind some standing bookshelves a few feet away.

“Did you see who did this?” she asked you, her suspicious eye trained on you.

“Did what?”

“This!” she shouted, her hands flailing towards the fallen shelves and books littering the ground

“What about this?” you asked, feigning innocence and confusion.

“Why are there shelves knocked down and books everywhere?”

“Are they not supposed to be like this?” you nearly broke your act, a smile threatening your lips, but managed to keep a straight face. McGonagall looked infuriated.

“Did you see where they went?”

“Where who went?”

“The people who did this! Unless it was you?”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Then who did?”

“Who did what?”

“This!” she repeated, her face turning red.

“Oh! I think they went that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, the opposite way the twins went.

“She’s brilliant,” George whispered to his brother from behind the shelves.

“You can say that again, Georgie,” Fred answered, watching you in awe as you waved off McGonagall.

They crept form behind their hiding places, stepping cautiously around the fallen books.

“How did you do that?” George asked, looking at you in awe.

“Do what?”

Fred smiled at you, quite entertained. George just stared, his mouth hanging open in amazement.

You sauntered off, sitting back down with Pansy.

“Jaw up, George, you’re drooling,” Fred taunted his brother, bumping into George’s shoulder.

The two left the library, sneaking past Madam Pince. George watched you smooth down your green tie with your delicate touch, your eyes locking with his. He admired the mischievous grin on your lips, and he gulped when you winked at him. He just met The Child of The Cheshire Cat. And he was in love with her.

The two boys peered around the corner, Fred crouched below George. They watched you carefully taking a bobby pin to Snape’s door, your fingers jutting back and forth against the pressure you applied.

George watched you pull your lips between your teeth. He watched the curve of your body as you stood on the tips of your toes, bent at the knees and leaning close to the door. Your skirt itched dangerously up, exposing more and more of your thighs.

Fred’s eyes were trained on your mischievous actions, but all George could focus on was you. He tried to stop thinking about you, but ever since that day in the library he couldn’t get you out of his head. It became even harder when Fred insisted you join them in their pranks from now on.

You stood suddenly, your skirt falling back into place, much to George’s dismay. You turned towards the boys, smirking at them. Fred sprang from his place behind the wall. George stumbled to follow after his brother.

You bent the bobby pin back into place and George watched you tuck it seamlessly into your hair.

“All in a day’s work, boys,” you said, breaking the silence that had formed around the three of you while they stared at you in awe.

“You’re brilliant,” Fred mumbled, gripping your shoulders and kissing your cheek briskly.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. George debated if he should copy his brother’s actions, take advantage of the situation to make an excuse to be that close to you. Before he could, he realized he had been staring at you for far too long. He coughed awkwardly and casted his gaze to the ground. You quirked an eyebrow at him in suspicion, and followed Fred into the potions class.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” you whispered into the dark room.

“We need more Ashwinder eggs for our products,” you heard Fred whisper back to you a few feet away, “running low on our supplies.”

“So you thought Snape wouldn’t mind letting you borrow some of his?” you teased, and heard Fred snort from where he was.

“Of course not,” George said from behind you, “as you may know, he’s a very generous man.”

“Always been supportive of us,” Fred joined, the smirk very loud in his voice.

George was close to you in the dark, you could tell. He must have been inches away from you, waiting for Fred to gather what he needed. You could hear his breathing, not that it was labored, and felt his presence.

“Fred, will you hurry it up?” George snapped at Fred. You turned to where his voice came from, the deepness in his whisper surprising you.

“Scared?” you teased.

You heard George’s low chuckle, and suddenly two hands snaked their way onto your sides. George’s long fingers gripped your sides, making your entire body jolt. You jumped at the sudden touch, and heard George chuckle even more.

“Scared?” he murmured, his hands still on your sides but his fingers considerably looser.

You met his hands with yours, putting them on top of his for some reassurance that you weren’t imagining it. Your touch was featherlight over his rough hands, and you realized how small your hands were next to his. You felt the veins on the top of his hands and traced over them before you knew what you were doing. George’s chuckle stopped at the touch, and the only noise in the room was the occasional clink of two glass bottles bumping into each other as Fred looked for the eggs.

The two of you stood in silence, George’s body inching closer to yours from behind you. Soon, your back was against his chest, and he trapped you in his arms. Your arms leaned against his, hands still atop his hands. You felt safe in George’s arms. You didn’t care if Snape came in at that minute, you just wanted George to hold you.

“Got ‘em!” Fred called out, a few clinking noises heard.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice closer to you now.

George started to turn, turning you with him. He gave you one last squeeze, moving his hands a little lower on your hips before releasing you completely. You let your hands fall from his, and moved from your spot against his chest.

The moment of intimacy in the dark had caused a blush to spread across your cheeks, and George saw it the second you three reached the dimly lit hallway. You avoided his eyes, looking at Fred and the three glass bottles he was slipping in his pockets.

“What are you going to use those for?” you whispered, following them down the hallway.

“Our luck and love potions,” Fred answered, his hand ghosting over the eggs in his pocket.

You nodded approvingly, taking a glance over your shoulder to make sure you were still in the clear. The three of you stopped at the bottom of the stairs, well you stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“Aren’t you coming?” Fred asked, looking down at you from a few steps above you.

They both towered over you, but the look in George’s eyes made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“My common room is down here,” you lifted your hand to point your thumb over your shoulder.

“Oh right,” Fred said, smiling, “sometimes you’re so much fun we forget you’re a Slytherin.”

“Shut up,” you said, laughing.

The boys watched you walk away. Fred smiled at the memory of the successful night they had, and George smiled at the way your skirt moved across your hips and swayed side to side.

“And where were you?” Draco Malfoy’s sneer was on you immediately after you crept into the common room. He was lounging on the couch, face illuminated by the dwindling fire on front of him.

“Where was who?” you smirked, starting your usual act.

Draco smirked back at you, aware of your reputation.

“Off with the Weasleys? You’ve been spending a lot of time with them recently. If anyone had some sense they might begin to question you aligning yourself with blood traitors,” Draco drawled.

You furrowed your brows, feeling incapable of deflecting that like you usually would. You were never one to focus on your blood status, but you figured you didn’t have to since you were a pureblood. Draco was obsessed with his blood status, you knew that, everyone knew that. Why was he so concerned with yours all of a sudden?

“Why do you care, Draco?”

Draco’s cold laugh echoed off the walls of the dungeon.

“I try to look out for my housemates,” he said, “especially the incredibly attractive ones.”

Your face twisted with disgust before you could help it. You walked past him and up the stairs, hearing his laugh continue from behind you.

Up in your room, you reflected on your night. You couldn’t help but lift your hands to where George’s had been earlier. You closed your eyes, imagining him still there with you, his chest a hard presence behind you. You breathed in deep, feeling the familiar tightness in your chest. A smile was on your lips before you knew it, and you realized you wanted George to hold you more often.

The next day at breakfast, you had filled your plate with food and talked with Pansy.

“So,” she started, glancing at you over her Charms textbook, “where were you off to last night?”

You smiled at her, looking down at your plate. When you looked back up at her, you noticed Draco watching you a few seats down. You gave him a glare, and he smirked at you.

“I was with Fred and George,” you turned your attention back to Pansy.

“The Weasleys? Why were you with the Weasleys?” Pansy tried to hide the repulsion in her voice, and barely managed to.

“They’re my friends,” you defended, furrowing your brow at her.

“Since when?”

You didn’t answer her, feeling that whatever said wouldn’t matter much to her.

Pansy gave you a suspicious look and returned to her textbook and breakfast.

You looked down at your plate, not daring a glance at Pansy or an accidental look at Draco. You felt isolated, the green tie around your neck becoming too suffocating all of a sudden.

You stood from the table, leaving breakfast early. You walked to the empty hallway and felt a little better in the quiet.

“Y/n?” you heard a voice call for you.

When you turned in the direction of the Great Hall, you saw George. He was walking cautiously towards you, concern etched on his face.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound normal.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

George had closed the distance between you, coming to stand right in front of you. You turned from him, leaning against the wall. He did too, and you felt his arm against yours.

“Fred and I were going to talk to you after breakfast,” he said, “but since you’re already here.”

“More late night sneaking around?”

“You could say that,” he smiled down at you.

You turned your head to look at him, and he was already looking at you. You felt your heart stop beating, the air stuck in your throat. Your eyes danced all over his face, focusing on the strength of his cheekbones, the sharpness of his nose, the smile lines marked on his cheeks, the look in his eyes.

He didn’t know what was happening. You turned towards him, leaning closer. You closed the distance and your hands were in his hair. He barely had time to close his eyes before you pulled away. You leaned back against the wall for a second, shook your head, and started to walk away.

You felt like an idiot. You had no idea why you just kissed George, probably ruining the only genuine friendship you had made at Hogwarts. You walked away from him, hoping that the sooner you left, the easier he would forget it happened.

You were only a few feet away before his hand was wrapped around your wrist.

“George, I’m sorr-”

He cut you off with his lips, his hands cupping your face.

He pulled you back to the wall, pushing you against it. The force nearly made your legs tremble from under you, but you forced them to stay still.

His hands ran down your body, moving from your face and down to their spot on your hips. He squeezed them like he did last night. You couldn’t help the reaction it caused, lurching your hips into his at the touch. He groaned into your mouth, pushing his face harder against yours. His nose pressed against your cheek, your chins bumping as you passionately moved against each other.

“Well, this is awfully disappointing.” You barely registered the voice, and George certainly didn’t.

You opened your eyes, still kissing George and glanced to the sound. Draco stood there, an evil smirk on his mouth. You slowly pulled away from George, and he trailed after you, trying to continue the kiss. It wasn’t until you turned your head to look at Draco that George even realized he was there.

“Get out of here Malfoy,” George said, his voice gruff and annoyed.

He moved back towards you, expecting Draco to scurry off. Draco stayed put, and you pulled back from George.

“What do you want, Draco?” you said, still pushed against the wall with George leaning on you.

You didn’t even bother to fix your messy hair, adjust your skirt, or tuck your shirt back in. All of which were messed up by George’s roaming hands.

“Just wanted to make sure my eyes didn’t deceive me,” he snarled, “Saw a Weasel chasing after you, but I didn’t think it would have been this bad.”

“What are you on about?” George said, and you could feel his body tensing with anger.

“Well I have to report this to the Sacred 28,” he explained, casting a fake innocent look over his evil features, “they’ll have to know that the Y/l/n family are now blood traitors.”

“Malfoy, you’re the only one who still cares about that,” you sneered.

You would have felt a bit intimated by Malfoy if it weren’t for George. You knew Malfoy was one of the smartest students in his year and had no doubt he knew some dark spells that you couldn’t have dreamed of. But George made you feel safe. When George was there you didn’t even think about the danger Malfoy threatened.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he started to saunter over to the two of you, “your father still seems to care.”

George moved you from the wall, putting himself between you and Draco.

Draco was right about your father. He cared a great deal about his status and the power it held. He had grown to accept your disobedience, but you had never strayed this far from his ideals.

“You’re pathetic, Malfoy,” George spat from in front of you. You squeezed his arm warningly, and he glanced down at you. The second he saw your scared expression, his gaze softened.

“Shove off,” you managed, your voice nearly sounding afraid.

“Alright,” Draco said in a sing-song voice, holding his hands up in mock defeat, “fine, be that way.”

He walked back into the hall, and George turned to you with concern on his face.

“Why did you do that?”

“I don’t care about what my father thinks,” you admitted, furrowing your brow.

“Are you sure?” George asked you.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, looking up at George’s brown eyes, “You mean more to me than any useless blood status.”

George softened. He literally felt himself melt at your words. He took a few large steps, a goofy smile plastered in his face, and backed you against the wall again.

“That was adorable,” he said, sounding giddy.

You laughed, moving closer to his face. Your smiles connected, quickly changing to a heated kiss once again.

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