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alphabetboyluvr · 10 months ago

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habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud.

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed.

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail.

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung.

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?"

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too.

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to. Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up."

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips.

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer.

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole.

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes.

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before.

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with.

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck.

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #jungkook fluff #college!jungkook #non idol au #bts fanfic #bangtan ff #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #college au

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sleepygirlthing · 1 year ago

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grabs n squishes ur tits :3 :3 :3

HHHEHEHE wwoah haha thats crazyyy hhehehe!!! ttotally not GAY for liking this tho.. getting my big fat soft tits squishedd <///////<

#anon i hope u know this ask made my heart skip a beat #< that was cringe who said that HAHA #anyWAYSSS #ask #anon

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lcvclywon · 9 months ago

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in sickness and in health

back to masterlist

synopsis After a long fight with Jay you find yourself giving him the silent treatment. Leaving you curled up alone sick in your room, with your only comfort being the instant tteokbokki you had microwaved for yourself earlier. However it seems Jay knew where to be and what to say at exactly the right times.

warnings: mentions of food, mentions of sickness, mentions of kissing, pet names (honey), slight angst, I made YN as the 6th member of lesserafim so that the whole same building thing made sense so...js roll with it pls 😁, also not proof read!, slight fighting

genre ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ hurt to comfort

pairings: idol!jay x idol!reader, established relationship

wc ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ around 1.14k

thoughts frm yuya 💭 i know i said i was gonna go on a hiatus but i needed a serotonin boost from writing after doing a horrendous maths paper.... so semi hiatus i guess ^^ anywaysss this drabble has been rotting in the back of my mind for a while soo here u are, i'm a huge huge HUGE sucker for hurt to comfort tropes so >,<

A week. It had been a week since you and Jay had a massive argument causing the two of you to give each other the silent treatment for god knows how long. However, as if the world was out to get you, the next morning after the fight you had been plagued with a sickness that you couldn’t quite pin down, all you knew was it left you bedridden until Friday.

Due to said sickness, you obviously couldn’t join your group for schedules and barely entered the building for dance practice. You hoped Jay would at least notice your absence, send a message asking where you were or something. But to your dismay, radio silence.

“Who cares about some stupid guy anyways…” Grumbling under your breath you reached for your chopsticks to skewer another rice cake from your measly plate of instant tteokbokki and shovel it down your throat. Maybe excessive spice you couldn’t handle and soft pillowy rice cakes could solve all your problems.

Ding dong! Weird, you didn’t think the members would be back this early?

Begrudgingly ripping the covers off and placing your bowl back on your table, you went to the door. Hair still an oily mess from not showering properly and clothes stuck to your body from sweat, you clearly weren’t in pristine condition to be meeting anyone. Please don’t be a delivery man, please don’t be a delivery man.

However, after opening the door, you found yourself standing in front of the one person you’d been longing for the whole week. Park Jongseong. Your gaze softened slightly and a small smile crept onto your lips, but then you remembered that you were still mad at him. Fighting the urge to embrace him and cry out for his name, you plastered on a stoic expression of indifference.

“What are you doing here.”

“Chaewon told me you were sick,” he said before entering into your dorm, not bothering to wait for you to let him in.

Making his way over to the kitchen he placed a white takeaway bag onto the counter before emptying its contents onto the table: a warm bowl of your favourite porridge and a cup of tea from your favourite cafe.

“What’s this?” positioning yourself in front of Jay, you scanned the table to see the numerous small boxes of side dishes sprawled across.

“Porridge, it’s good for you when you’re sick.” he replied before shooting his head over to the remnants of your tteokbokki “Honey why are you eating tteokbokki, you’re sick you shouldn’t be eating instant food.” he scolded before reaching over throw your lukewarm leftovers in the trash.

“It’s not that bad…” you mumbled whilst picking at the side dishes “And why do you suddenly care, thought you weren’t talking to me” Scoffing you shot him a dirty glare.

“Correction, you weren’t talking to me; I thought you needed some space, as you usually do after a fight.” well he wasn’t wrong, you did express to him that after arguments you wanted some time to cool down by yourself, “and also, I’m not ‘suddenly’ just caring YN. Who do you think Yunjin got all those drinks, medicines, and snacks from.”

Oh… so she didn’t buy them herself. Your gaze reached his eyes as you felt your heart soften slightly, “Okay, well you could’ve sent me a text or something. You could’ve come here and given it to me yourself, why today out of all days do you decide to come huh?” meeting your glossy eyes, Jay could tell how hurt you were over his actions. He couldn’t deny that it pained him to see you this upset.

“Okay look, I’m sorry. I wanted to come over, but Sakura said whatever you caught was contagious and that you isolated yourself to make sure you got nobody else sick. As I mentioned earlier, you told me you liked to have time to cool down after fighting, but it was stupid of me not to even try to text you. Today it all just-” Jay stopped his rambling, catching his breath before sighing out, “I just really missed you YN”

That was all the confirmation you needed to run into his arms and hug him so tight he didn’t even think about leaving again. Jay was quick to reciprocate, arms wrapping around you to engulf you into his warm embrace, head buried into the crook of your neck whispering sweet nothings.

Breaking away from the embrace and tilting your head up you were graced with a warm and familiar smile painted across Jay’s face; a smile you so badly missed the entire week.

“Don’t ever do that again.” you said with a pout

“Promise I won't honey,” his hands reached to cup your face before adding, “Only if you promise to stop eating that stuff when you’re sick.”

“Hey, it’s yummy! I can’t help it that I can’t cook soup or anything, tteokbokki has never failed me.”

“Guess I’ll have to keep bringing you food then.” he replied with a smirk

“Well, I could use a personal delivery man.” giggling you reached up to mirror his actions, cupping his face with your warm hands.

“Oh really, would a delivery man do this?” and with that he pressed a playful peck onto your lips; soft and gentle, something you missed dearly.

“Jay!” you exclaimed, “You can’t do that, you’ll get sick!”

“So. What.” he said between pecks, peppering your face with kisses as you giggled and placed your hands on his chest to try and push him away. Pulling away he looked into your eyes with a warm and gentle gaze, smiling softly before leaning in to give you a proper kiss. Feeling the worry of your sickness transferring to him vanish, you melted into the kiss whilst wrapping your arms around his neck. In response, his hand found its way to the small of your back while the other reached up to cup the back of your neck. It always astonished you how easily he could pull you into his orbit, almost made you forget about the soreness of your body and the fever plaguing you.

Retreating back he giggled at your pouting face. “I’d love to continue, but I wouldn’t want the food I bought you to get cold” intertwining your fingers with his, he led you over to a chair before sitting you down. “Let’s eat okay?” he muttered before taking his spot right next to yours, hand still intertwined with your fingers. His other hand however reached over to spoon you some porridge, moving the utensil closer to your mouth.

You happily bent forward to enjoy the bite he crafted for you, an all too familiar sensation bubbling up within you—a warmth you could only describe as, home. Jay felt like home. And you hoped he would for the rest of your lives.

perm taglist ♡ (send an ask to be added!) @floweryang

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ybklix · 2 months ago

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marshmallow world

⭒˚‧ ✧ pairing: bang chan x fem!reader ☆ synopsis: a little lesson before christmas to continue your good girl streak and save yourself from the naughty list. ϑℓ genre ─ warnings: mdni, smut, tiny angst, daddy kink, dom!chan, jealousy & possessiveness, kinda toxic chan, spanking, slapping, dirty talk, pet names (some dreg), teasing, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampie ׄ 　۪｡ 𓂃 ੭୧ 𓂃　۪ word count: 7k

masterlist ♡ taglist

wen's note: mini winter/holiday special, i'm sooo back, winter's here, enjoy :3 edit: I was writing this before #those selfies, woofwoof, he fed my delusions more yasss, also my beloved friend said no more dirty sex and i came back w more dirty sex, sorry:( just dom chan brain rot rn, edit2: bro railway teaserrr anywaysss

Chan was the sweetest boyfriend of all, it was an absolute dream to have him, he was attentive, took care of you, spoiled you, knew the smallest detail about you, and always paid attention to you despite his demanding job in a very competitive and hard industry which he worked hard to get there, you knew his story and you both completed each other.

But he only had one tiny detail, not everything was perfect, he had a small flaw that you let it go of because everything good made up for it… but the big damn problem with Chan was always his jealousy and possessiveness. To be honest, jealousy was never something you liked, it seemed absurd, toxic, like the person distrusted you… but coming from someone like Chan, you couldn’t help that sometimes you liked it, only sometimes, because sometimes he was too serious about it and it annoyed you, and other times you got sexual pleasure, but no matter how long you had been dating him, you never knew what to expect because it was always the same: his obvious annoyed expression.

You arrived home, you and Chan had been living together for a long time, it was late and the snowstorm almost caught you on the road, slightly delaying you a little, torturing you every second you spent locked in that car with your own boyfriend… because you just had a very nice night… to suddenly be ruined by Chan’s clear and very expressive face of disgust and anger. The ride was tense, you knew something was wrong with him, but particularly tonight you didn’t have the energy to confront him, so you’d let him go to bed upset if that was the right thing to do.

It had been the ‘Christmas’/holiday event for Chan’s entertainment company, of which he worked as an excellent and well-respected producer. So far, so good, before leaving your home, Chan laughingly hurried you, sweetly, telling you that you would be late while you fixed your lipstick and put on perfume; you were wearing a very nice short red dress, Chan was dressed in his black suit that made him look dreamy. You arrived at the event, some knew who you were, some didn’t, but everyone knew that Chan had a girlfriend. You enjoyed a very good time, had dinner, and danced, and then slightly each of you started to radiate your own charisma, being friendly and socializing with more people… all good, until halfway through the night you made a friend, Seo Changbin, another producer of the company since Chan left your side for a second to talk to his social circle or even expanding it, Changbin didn’t leave your side the rest of the night, you got along well, you thought it was nice to meet a new person.

But as soon as Chan saw you there the trouble started. He couldn’t believe such an atrocity his eyes had to witness. His girl, his, his, his, you would always be his property; talking and laughing with another guy while you gently touched his shoulder and leaned your body towards him as you giggled.

You were about to let it go, not be blinded by his jealousy… but it all went to hell as soon as he saw Lee Minho approach you, your ex-boyfriend, a choreographer for the company. And then there you were, like a little slut —so he thought— in the middle of two men, smiling, not knowing their intentions.

But Chan could not change. He was like that because he wanted you all to himself. And you never stopped him.

You sighed, avoiding looking at Chan and leaving him behind, as you took off your heels and he closed the main door. You were physically exhausted, cold, and emotionally unprepared to be exhausted if you faced Chan.

You ignored him, sucking air between your teeth from the sudden cold that shivered your whole body and the first thing you did was turn on the heat in the entire house, you turned on the lights of the pine tree and your Christmas decoration pretending to be fine, still, you were not calm, you felt his heavy gaze on your back, his ponderous breathing, not a single word had been spoken since he told you in a stern tone, “We’re leaving now.” You were so sober, your muscles stiff, about to remember this whole tense night the next morning.

You were about to go upstairs, about to cry because you hated ignoring Chan, because your pride was so great, and all you wanted from him was to be around his arms, feeling his warmth as it snowed outside, but no, you had done nothing wrong but talk to men other than him. You hoped he would think and come to his senses so he could apologize in a few hours at dawn.

But it wasn’t like that, Chan had his jaw tense, he was not just annoyed, but furious for some particular reason. He took off his long coat and watched you walk through the house, while he was lighting it up as he went by, he had so much to tell you, but his intentions were a bit diverted as he watched you walk up four steps while he was still standing on the first floor and had a very nice view of your bare legs in that short dress, arousing another feeling other than anger. In the end it was him taking you home, to bed, where you lived together and shared, he calmed down a bit, but he was still upset and wanted to claim you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he mentioned, his voice low and commanding. “We need to talk.”

Your hand was resting gently on the stair railing. You froze at the sound of his gravelly voice, stopped your steps, and looked toward nothing in particular, just with your eyes straight ahead. He was upset, you knew it, you could hear it in every word he said that made your skin flinch. You stood there for a second, sighing softly, whether to just ignore him, continue up the stairs, or confess to him that you didn’t want to talk, either option had fatal consequences anyway.

“I’m talking to you, Y/n” he said again.

“There’s nothing to talk about today, Chan. I’m going to sleep” you replied, unwillingly, turning your back to him.

He ran his tongue across his mouth, annoyed and in disbelief that you responded to him such a thing, like a spoiled little brat, unwilling to even look him in the eye, those were not the manners he had taught you. He always taught you to be a good little girl for him.

“Well, you may not have anything to say but I do and I want you to listen to me properly” he spat annoyed, his ears red in anger and a tingle in his body at having to just watch your back silhouette, he hated that. “And look me in the eyes when I talk to you. Turn around and come over here. Now.”

What was once a pent-up sadness in your being, turned to anger. You took a breath, annoyed, you hated it when he spoke to you like that, demanding orders in a despot manner, without affection and knowing the undertone of the reason for his tone: once again a pathetic scene of jealousy, you were tired of them. And the worst thing was that you hated to listen to him in situations like that; you turned and watched him take off his black leather winter gloves and looked at him closely for the first time in the evening since he had spoken to you harshly. You could tell he was expressionless, his eyes relaxed, his mouth closed… but you knew him so fucking well, and watching him slide his gloves down his long fingers didn’t have the right to look that attractive. You stood half bravely in front of his commanding complexion illuminated by the hallway light. You looked into his eyes, into his dark, piercing gaze, just the way he wanted it.

He moved even closer to you, almost brushing against your face, and began to speak in a false soft, slow speech, as if you had to understand every word he said:

“You’re going to tell me exactly what you talked about with Seo Changbin and what had you so entertained for an hour and a half… and then you’re going to tell me why your bastard ex-boyfriend dared to approach you. I’m listening.”

You analyzed every part of his face, from his soft dark curly hair falling down his forehead, slightly parted, his sharp eyes, his nose tipped with a soft red from the cold weather, and his full pale pink lips. He was so cute, you loved him, but you missed a few hours ago when he was sweet Chan. You wanted to kiss him, to feel his soft cool lips, but he was just a jerk sometimes. So you let out a mocking, incredulous giggle right in front of his face as you backed up a step while rolling your eyes childishly annoyed. Chan wanted to give you a good spanking for your immature response.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe it. Are you listening to yourself? Why would I have to tell you every word I say to anyone whenever I meet someone new, huh?”

Chan was ready to calm down, but your mocking chuckle greatly upset him.

“Why would you keep it from me?”

“Chan… because…” his gaze darkened, you looked him straight in the eyes, he hated you calling him Chan while arguing, he hated you calling him by his name while talking seriously without any affection, “I could have told you properly, we could have talked about this, telling you I met someone new on the way home, being us, but you always have to do the same old shit and come angrily towards m…”

“Watch your language and tone when you’re talking to me,” he interrupted you, domineering, clenching his teeth, almost piercing you with his gaze, leaving you speechless.

You swallowed dryly and looked at him again. You didn’t want to argue. Not tonight or tomorrow. Because his sister was coming to visit you tomorrow afternoon for the month of the holidays and you wanted to have more love than contempt for him now. You barely took the courage to speak up, to communicate and express everything, and if you were upset about it then it would be reflected in your speech… but him. Either you were leaving… or you were still there.

“Why?” you said calmer but still direct and sharp, still as if your body and mind obeyed him automatically, having a lot of impact on you, “Are you the only one who has the right to be angry now?”

He nodded softly, with a calm expression, leaving you like a small bomb about to explode. Why? You hated his level-headed expression, always being right apparently, always having the last word and winning the fight.

Your eyes glistened, stinging and burning with the sensation of hateful tears building up in your eyes and the painful knot stuck in your throat. You wanted to tell him so many things. He was the love of your life but you wanted to tell him to fuck off, to claim to him exactly the same things he was telling you. But you stopped, your heart raced and you took a deep breath. You were in an internal battle… thinking if this was a small fight, a small scene of jealousy, and if you continued you would make the problem bigger…. but it wasn’t the first time it had happened and you had no idea why this particular time it was weighing on you more than the other times. You hated not knowing how to decipher what this was all about.

“I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

You just said that, tired, defeated, like someone helpless and abandoned, unwilling to sleep in the same bed with him if you were going to be like this, conflicted, tense, not getting his sweet kisses before bed and snuggling into his body. You’d rather sleep alone than coldly turn your back on him.

You turned, ready to go back upstairs when his hand stopped you by abruptly grabbing your wrist.

“You don’t have to sleep in the guest room when this is also your home and you have your room to sleep in, with me. We just need to talk. I know you and Changbin exchanged numbers, I want you to delete his contact, and block him, now.”

You watched him. You swallowed the lump in your throat and Chan tightened his grip on you.

“What? I won’t do it. Let go of me. I don’t want to see you tonight.”

That hurt. Chan thought you were taking it a little far, dragging it out, as he inwardly recanted after seeing your pretty, sweet face about to break down in tears. He just wanted you to know that you were his and no one else’s, that if another guy wants to be your friend then he must know him first and boy did he know Changbin, quite the playboy, womanizer, party boy, Chan was shocked that you got along with a guy like him. Chan just wanted to teach you a lesson tonight. But you had other ideas. You were including the emotional, he felt bad, but he couldn’t stop himself, if he was going to hurt you a little to let you know very well how much he loves you and cares about you, then he would make the sacrifice.

“Why do I have to do it, huh? Why always me? I never tell you anything when all those little doll idols would touch your arm and lean their skinny bodies towards you calling you their oppa or all that shit with their irritating voices while inviting you to their apartments right in front of me and expressing how muuuuuch they want to work with you again. You’re a fucking asshole” you snapped.

Chan released you and looked at you sternly for a few seconds. You frowned and looked at him with confusion as it seemed he was about to say or do something else and you felt a hint of curiosity to know what it was, but he just broke into a loud and mocking chuckle, changing his face to serious completely, narrowing his eyes and showing his teeth.

You were completely confused now. What had been so funny? Now you were annoyed to hear his mocking laughter. It was as if Chan was waiting for you to explode. His body relaxed and so did his mind, thinking you looked adorable when you were angry. When he finished laughing and only a smile remained on his face, you could notice the glow and tenderness in his gaze at the sight of you. You scoffed in disbelief, thinking he was a fucking lunatic, switching from one emotion to another.

Once again, you were about to walk away and leave him there, you were confused and slightly annoyed, but he stopped you again, taking a step towards you and putting his hands on your waist.

“Aw my love, did you always mean that? Complain about the other girls?” he spoke, cocky, and leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Why didn’t you ever say anything, huh? Why… you’ve never claimed what’s yours…”

You shuddered. Because I’m not crazy and I don't distrust you. You thought but didn’t say it. His grip became harder and he pressed his body against yours, making you nervous in seconds, his hair was still soft despite the cold weather he was exposed to for a few moments, he still had his manly cologne and his body was warm, you adored being close to him. You didn’t respond, you stood transfixed in your place, uneasy but comfortable with his closeness. You wanted to know what he would say next… Chan whispered in your ear again, sultry voice, his cheek brushing against your skin.

“Because… I’m about to do so, claim what’s mine. Someone tonight spent the night showing you off, standing next to you… someone who wasn’t me and you? You stood by his side like a fucking obedient whore. Oh… you don’t know how fucking pissed off you’ve made me. Being such a bad girl for daddy.”

You were building your arousal slowly at every word that came out of his mouth, as if it was the most erotic and filthy thing, because Chan got you too worked up, his domineering build clinging to you and his rough voice whispering in your ear sent shivers down your spine. Until you heard that word, that word he likes to refer to himself in and he likes you to call him that from time to time during sex and you understood it all. All this time he wanted to play that. You thought that if he wanted to fuck, he should have told you from the beginning and he could have spared you all the drama and the series of disastrous emotions he put you through. You wanted to tell him to fuck off once again… but your heart was beating fast now for other intentions as you quickly thought of the beautiful, pleasurable sex your boyfriend gives you and that you adore so much… plus the possibility of a good fuck with some hateful, angry, after your little argument, shit, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Bad girls deserve their lesson. Come on, I’m going to give you your punishment in front of the Christmas tree so you can see the pretty lights while daddy teaches you how to be a good little girl again.”

Chan picked you up before you could respond or react, taking you by surprise.

“Cha-chan” you protested vaguely.

He led you into the main living room, just as he said, where you both decorated happily and sweetly days ago, putting the Christmas tree and the stockings with your initials hanging on the fireplace.

Chan left his gloves on the little table and took your bag on your shoulder to leave it there too.

“What did you just call me?” he said, serious as he pulled you down from his arms, raising his eyebrows as he looked at you testing you as if you had said something wrong and he was waiting for you to correct yourself.

You looked him in the eyes, he was getting more and more dauntingly close to you, you didn’t want to say it, it was so unnecessary… and so hot, Chan was particularly hotter when he got into that mode, so dominant as if something about it possessed him.

You opened your mouth, looking at him submissively. He thought you were about to give in and listen to him; however, you only provoked him more for fun.

“Chan.”

You noticed his eyes widen slightly, annoyed, surprised, you almost smiled, the corner of your lips quivering at the complicit and huge smile you want to put on your face, you know how very angry it makes him that you behave somewhat spoiled, but you know deep down how much he loves to correct you, how much he loves his dirty little game where you get uneasy and are hopeless until he fucks you dumb. You know exactly what was waiting for you and you were uncontrollably aroused under your calm demeanor and naughty look; your pussy was throbbing and tingling, you could feel the wetness in your folds, and the most pathetic thing was that you had provoked it on yourself… by thinking and thinking, by remembering exactly the precise measure of your boyfriend’s big cock tight and choking in your cunt. It was pathetic because Chan had done absolutely nothing but gently tease you with his words, calling you a bad girl and calling himself daddy. The good thing was that you were good at pretending, but as soon as he dared to undress you, to really touch you, he would find out how very wet you were for absolutely nothing. Just for being him, wearing his suit, and looking at you like helpless prey.

“You’re going to keep behaving like this, huh? Are you gonna be a difficult slut?” he mumbled, finally putting his hands on you, stealing your breath, “You really want to disobey Daddy and get your punishment, don’t you? I won’t be gentle at all, baby girl.”

You stood still, but excitedly restless, almost letting out a shuddering sigh as you felt his big hands on you. You were ready for him to touch you, to let you do with your body whatever he wanted, you needed him, you wanted him, and you were giving in completely. You watched him, your eyes shining straight up at him submissively, asking for action, passion, and sex, hungry for lust in the only great way that only Chan can achieve in you.

You half opened your mouth, softly sighing, it was getting harder and harder for you to breathe, your heart was pounding and your sensitive pussy wouldn’t leave you alone, everything was happening sizzling in slow motion; his heavy gaze on you and his slightly icy hands on your waist. Again, you wanted to kiss him.

But suddenly everything happened so fast, leaving you surprised and unable to react almost. Chan seemed to be acting slow, watching you with desire and teasing you with his closeness that he knew how much it drove you crazy… but suddenly, he nimbly slipped his hands under your dress, caressing your thighs briefly until he tugged at your safety shorts and panties, making you sigh and leaving you with the strange sensation of your pussy exposed, your warm folds and pussy lips abandoning the comfort of the fabric of your panties. Chan left your garments by your knees, looking almost humiliated the way they were merely there, your underwear stuck on your thighs. He smiled arrogantly, getting a small glimpse of the fabric of your wet panties. You watched his hands make the sudden movement, you were surprised to see his noticeably large bulge in his pants and then you saw him, confused and surprised, but excited, your clit throbbing as you discovered he was already getting hard too, just at the thought of the sexual act that awaited you and the tension that was building up.

“Are you going to undress yourself or shall I? Huh?” he tilted his face towards you, waiting for an answer, toying with you, “Are you going to cooperate with daddy? Because if I take it off, I’m going to rip that whole tiny red dress you’re wearing, you fucking whore.”

His words were harsh. You didn’t answer and just watched him with your heavy breathing. You were speechless, you were so aroused that if you started talking you would moan and begin to stutter, you didn’t want to look this helpless in front of him, at least not now. But deep down… you wanted him to be the one to take absolute control.

“You’re not going to answer? Are you going to remain like this? Fine” he sentenced somewhat annoyed.

He reached down on his knees to slide your shorts and panties off your legs, stood up again, and in quick, sharp movements he tried to remove your dress and finally got rid of your bra. You let him do it and in a few seconds you were completely naked in front of him, with your hardened nipples resenting a little change of weather, even so, it did not compare with the intense fire you had inside, you wanted to be touched and satisfied, you wanted pleasure in any way provided by your boyfriend.

Chan watched you for a few seconds, your frail body exposed and naked for him made to carry that bubbling sensation move through his crotch on his pumping erect rigid cock. He licked his lips, memorizing every part of your body, your coy movements as you pressed your legs together, which he knew was a habit of yours because you were so adorable and incredibly turned on that it was hard for you to control your very cute and needy pussy, he memorized how you bit your lip nervously and the shimmer in the eye shadow, your makeup intact, just before he’s about to ruin it, making you gasp and whimper.

He roughly grabbed your wrist, squeezing it tightly, forcing you to walk and taking you a few steps to the front of the couch. He stood in front of you, and for the first time that night, he gently touched your face in his hands, but then squeezed your cheeks as if he was enforcing authority by making you look at him.

“You’ve been a very very bad girl and you know the consequences for that” he whispered, released your face, sat down on the couch and ordered you roughly. “In four, now. Hands and knees on the floor and from now on I want you to respond to everything I tell you, understand?”

Chan ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip, getting no response, he bent his body and reached up to your ass, quickly and unexpectedly giving it a hard spank, repeating, “I said, did you understand?”

His hand burned into your soft, unprepared skin, which finally, you fulfilled his fantasy, and yours, leaving your pride and games aside, as you responded between in a surprised gasp and needy tone:

“Yes, Daddy.”

That was music to Chan’s ears, a delight to all his senses, your adored voice, the one he loved so much, as sweet as honey and soft as velvet, submissively saying exactly what he wants to hear, your little mouth struggling against the obscenities by which you will be subjected... but nothing will compare to the sound of your skin breaking and your whimpering, combining with the squirt of her soaking wet pussy being used by him as he wished.

He leaned back against the coach quietly and you looked at him, his erection was bigger in his pants and all you could think about was how much you wanted to ride his cock, at your pace, lovingly, but you listened to him as you knew you were in for something else, you still would enjoyed it.

Your hands and knees on the floor. Your eyes to the Christmas tree—just as he said, and your body submissive and exposed for Chan. He bent down again, you almost recoiled at the sound of his body on the couch, moving closer to you. Chan caressed your exposed ass and ran his fingers gently across your pussy making you moan softly, you were again restless and aroused.

“My baby doll, you have a beautiful ass, too bad I’m going to leave it bruised.”

That said, you closed your eyes tightly and let out a groan of shock, almost like hiccups. Your first spanking. Hard, burning and rough. Chan continued mercilessly, keeping his word, hit after hit, echoing in the room your skin abused by his heavy hand. You arched your back, curled your toes and your hands clutched the floor as you whimpered and bit your lip in desperation seeking release, but you couldn’t help it, it was so dirty and painful but you loved it, you loved the sound of your ass being pounded and of the impact of his hand leaving your buttocks in searing pain.

“I want you to think about how bad you’ve been, little girl. About what you did that Daddy has to give you this punishment.”

“Yes, Daddy” you replied in a gasp.

You had done nothing wrong, but at this point you couldn’t reveal yourself or turn back time, you were surrendered and immersed in his lustful method of pleasure.

Your makeup began to smear, your eyes watered and just as you were painfully tired, he paused for a moment, finally turning his attention to your throbbing, wet sex. Chris’s cock twitched at the sensation of your pussy coating his fingers. He continued to caress your burning, red ass with one hand while teasing your entrance with the other, making a comment for it:

“Are you liking it, you fucking slut? Do you enjoy it when daddy puts you in your place and spanks you for your bad behavior? Look at that pretty pussy, god, you’re so soaking wet, making a mess for me.”

Another unexpected pair of spankings and his naughty fingers exploring your intimacy that altered every part of you.

You were obsessed with your boyfriend, both of you were of each other, which is why that detail led you to be in precisely the situation you were in now. You knew to perfection the shape, size and color of his fingers, long, pale with a pinkish undertone, veiny, you could visualize the obscene image of them caressing your soaked pussy, of the fingertips pinching your clit and rubbing wildly between your labia to be wrapped around them and, of his digits abusing your entrance, of getting lost in it leaving a mess every time he pushed them deeper and deeper into you.

He kept spanking you, playing with your entrance, going deeper and deeper into you and using your hole carelessly as if it were a toy. Once again he kept his word when he said he would not be gentle. You were a mess, you didn’t know what to concentrate on at all, you babbled and squealed daddy every time your ass hurt and you felt yourself dripping more and more on his fingers.

You were close, so close to reaching your orgasm that your entire lower body burned in sharp, intense pain, Chan gathered, from the irregularity and change of tone in your whimpers and your sweet, soft pussy muscles throbbing and tightening from an immediate release of your peak of sexual desire.

“Are you about to cum, princess? My baby girl wants to reach her orgasm?” he spoke with a certain teasing tone in his sentences.

You nodded, desperate. Tousling your hair, letting it fall over your face, humiliated and incredibly aroused, whimpering in pleasure and pain, losing all your pride as you clung to the cold floor as you responded:

“Yes-yes-yes-y, Daddy, I’m going to cum.”

He blurted out a chuckle, “Really? You’re going to cum while I pound your ass and treat your little pussy roughly? You like being treated like this?”

You whimpered, letting out a squeal as you received your last and most painful spanking, as Chan increased the speed of his fingers in your pussy, the obscene and humiliating sound of your fluids colliding with his digits being heard.

“Yes, Daddy, I-”

“You’re fucked up, baby girl” he mumbled, almost satisfied.

Satisfied to see your ass ruined and red and you still managed to squirm in pleasure.

But Chan stopped, right at the hottest and most exact moment, leaving you mad and in pieces.

“No…” you whispered, annoyed, crestfallen holding all the frustration and strength in your body.

“Well, you don’t deserve such a thing” he added, slapping your exposed vulva twice to which you squealed in surprise, “You don’t deserve to cum, not even if you beg for it you fucking whore. You’ll cum until I say so.”

Chan sighed audibly almost in a groan, getting up from the couch while you remained in the same position, feeling the real pain and burning in your buttocks now that Chan had removed his hands from there. It hurt so much, the tingling from the impact ran through your body that you even wanted to cry again, the worst thing was that even with that pain you couldn’t calm your intense desire to have him.

The next thing you heard was the sound of his clothes tugging, Chan taking off his suit jacket, he unbuttoned the first few of his shirt and the sound of a zipper pulling down and soft fabric falling gracefully rubbing something. You knew right away.

“Come here. I’ll let you get Daddy’s cock ready before I tear your fucking little cunt apart.”

You couldn’t move, your body hurt so much, still, with your own strength, you stood up, your ass red, your makeup smeared and your eyes teary. As soon as you turned around, he came back or to say:

“Get on your knees. You’re going to suck Daddy’s cock” you watched him, from his eyes, going down to meet his pressed cock in his boxers, in a bulge, hard and large. “I didn’t hear your answer.”

“Yes, Daddy!”

You almost responded immediately, almost shivering as if you were freezing to death but it was just the nature of your nervous and highly aroused body and mind, devoted and surrendered to him, making you get on your knees submissively in front of him, raising your gaze, your pain was hard to avoid, but so was your unsettling pleasure. Your hands were indecisive and restless, about to touch his stiff exposed erection that looked so tempting to your sore eyes. Chan was caressing his cock, so pumping, red, and stimulated, dripping in the pretty pink tip of his precum.

“Ah, ah, don't touch until I say so,” he warned you, his voice coming from deep inside him, sounding thicker, you knew he was extremely aroused at this point. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

You obeyed him and he, so lost in pleasure took a step towards you, seeing you from above with every noticeable vein in his body exposed to view, his vein in his neck, from his big hands, from his cock...

Chan stroked his cock gently, masturbating it a little then put a part of his cock and glans on your warm tongue, rubbing himself on you.

“Ff-fuck, oh yeah, taste that fucking precum, baby” he moaned, watching you with pleasure, smiling slightly then closing his eyes and gently throwing his head back for a moment.

That had caused more pleasure in you than his fingers and spanking had caused in you before, you loved blowing Chan because you could hear him moaning and your mouth was busy with his big cock in it, it felt so good that just the feel of his soft glans on your tongue and his thick white droplets, you were again a sea of bliss on your bottom, shivering in despair.

“Now I want you to lick it, lick my cock up and down, just like that, yes-yes, use your hands, baby girl.”

You were so happy to hear such quiet commands as licking his cock and you enjoyed every second, you felt it first, your hand cupping a fist to stroke it better, every part of his texture and every single detailed feature, just for you.

“Ff-fuck.”

Chan was close, he had resisted orgasm hard giving his best effort, but the submissive sight of his little girl on her knees for him running her tongue over his big, stiff cock like it was candy didn’t help matters.

You licked his entire length, just as he gently commanded you, reveling in his pumping sex on your tongue and lips, wishing for a moment that he was naked too so you could see his wonderful figure at that angle you were.

“Put it in your mouth” he whined and you quickly did it, “oh yeah, bobbing your head all over daddy’s cock, just like that, mmm. Good girl.”

You put his cock in your mouth, wrapping it around your lips and finally feeling his throbbing sex inside your cavity. It felt so good to have him like this, pleasuring him as he moaned and bit his lip. You wanted to touch yourself as your pussy had a life of its own down there, so throbbing, dripping, and needy, but you knew that touching yourself would lead to no good if Chan found you out. He stroked your hair as you held his cock with your right hand while with your left, awkwardly and nervously you gently caressed his clean, smooth pubic area, his balls from time to time, and his pronounced pelvis rising towards his exercised abdomen.

You let yourself get a little carried away from the feel and taste of Chan that without thinking you slowly wanted his cock a little down your throat, you wanted the feel of his thick member fucking every part of you, but Chan delicately tightened his grip on your hair, pulling it back to pull his cock out of your mouth, leaving his member bouncing gently in the air and brushing against your lips, his erection wet and stimulated and you dripping in your saliva and his precum, confused, looking into his eyes.

However, the next thing you felt you didn’t expect it at all, his large hand slapping moderately hard on your cheek leaving it red and sore.

“I never said to use your throat, huh. Did you want daddy’s cock so bad? Stand up, you’re going to get it now.”

You were still in shock from the slap, but you obeyed as you understood that it would finally happen. Chan grabbed you roughly by your forearm, putting you on your back to him, he forced you to bend over, as you clumsily held onto the couch, as he had put his body behind you. Chan began rubbing his glans on your wet, swollen, juicy vulva, pleasuring himself on your labia before shallowly positioning the head of his cock at your entrance.

You wanted to scream for him to do it, you wanted him to fuck you from the first instant your panties began to get wet for him.

“There will be no safe word, I am going to fuck you hard to remind you that you are mine and you are going to take Daddy’s cock whole like the slut you behaved like tonight, got it?”

You were about to answer, but a squeal came out of you as you felt his pumping deep throbbing penetration piercing your insides. You whimpered between pleasure and pain, Chan was opening your entrance, and inside, your pussy always struggling to accommodate his well-endowed penis.

He began to fuck you while holding on to your hips and touching your very sensitive ass from time to time, he caressed your whole body, your back, and your tits while keeping a deep, fast, and tearing rhythm that left you breathless. You started to see blurred, you were lost, with your pussy choking his cock, about to cum again when he came out of you; he took your body with ease and held you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. Chan wanted to see your tired, frustrated face as you struggled with his big cock in your pussy.

He smiled at the sight of you, your cheeks red and a little of his precum at the corner of your lips, your eyes bright and your whole face begging for sex. He re-entered you, holding your body from your ass which you whimpered at your sensitivity. Chan controlled your body, dropping your body so that his cock slid into you, making you both whimper, he was big, he didn’t fit all the way in, and his cock squeezed at your entrance and pushed your cervix every time he did that.

He continued to control your body, causing you to be a mess in search of your ultimate release in an orgasm.

“Tell me that you’re mine” he started to babble.

The idea of just owning and having you quickly went to his head, of being him and only him the only one who has you screaming with pleasure, the only one who loves you and knows how you like it. Chan always fucks you sweet and slow, gentle, just because his cock is big at your entrance, but sometimes he does it hard when you ask him to, but now he was destroying you beautifully, and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I’m yours, daddy, fuck-”you were speaking haltingly and breathlessly.

“Daddy, please” you whimpered, his cock was being too much for you.

“Daddy, please” he mimicked you mockingly making a high-pitched tone of voice with a smug smile, “Please what, don’t you like how all your little pussy is being taken by daddy?”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes.

You finally felt it, your orgasm, so close and there was something you always wanted.

“Can I kiss you, Daddy?”

He smiled, “Do it, baby girl” he replied breathlessly.

You began to squirt his cock and part of his thighs and the rest fell to the floor, finally, you felt his lips and cautiously unbuttoned his shirt to feel and appreciate his exercised chest.

“Daddy, can I cum?”

“Fuck, baby girl, yes do it.”

You whimpered again, louder, hugged him, brushing your breasts on his pecs, feeling his soft hair and the scent of his perfume on his neck and you cum shuddered, wanting to release every muscle in your body, leaving you trembling and pleasurably agonized.

Chan enjoyed the disaster of your orgasm, sliding his cock inside you for a few more seconds until he hit your cervix with the spurt of his hot cum.

“Mmm” was all you could say as you caught your breath and felt his orgasm fill you completely still leaning on his shoulder near his neck.

Chan left you there, your body wracked and well satisfied, clinging to him.

He stroked your hair and whispered a sweet “I love you. Do you want to see the snow outside, princess?”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ୨୧ ꒱

꒰ 𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @cherricola-star @lolareadsimagines @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @hyune-ssne @oddracha ꒱

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lyvhie · 6 months ago

Text

— perv!dreamies headcanons

nct dream x fem!reader (18+ mdni) a/n: guys is that a hc or a scenario helppp. anywaysss, that's for all of you cuties who filled my asks with perv!dreamies requests after i reblogged a haechan's post about that BUT I'M JUST A READER I'M NOT GOOD AT WRITING THIS THING SO SO SO SO PLEASE BE KIND THAT ONE WAS HAAARDDD!!! and sorry for the recent inactivity, i'm kinda having a life crisis again haha... 😓 cw: perv behavior ofc, voyeurism, masturbation, coercion (chenle), kinda somnophilia i guess (renjun), panty stealing (& lmk if i forgot some!)

for many reasons, you were CHENLE's favorite maid. you were an exemplary employee. not only were you punctual, attentive, and skilled in your work, but you also showed a level of obedience that was unmatched by the other maids.

he took notice of it almost immediately. whatever he said or asked, you would always respond like a perfectly trained dog. no matter how trivial or senseless the task, you would always comply without question. you never showed any signs of frustration or hesitation, even when he was intentionally demanding or unreasonable. it was almost uncanny how you would immediately drop whatever you were doing in order to fulfill his every command, no matter how demeaning or time-consuming.

chenle soon discovered the reason behind your obedience. it was a simple explanation – you desperately needed that job. your family's mounting debts hung over your head, leaving you with no choice but to cling fiercely to your only source of money. then, he decided to push your limits just for his own entertainment. he would order you to stand in the corner facing the wall for an hour without moving, rearrange his library alphabetically, dust the ceiling, even though there's no visible dirt or dust.

indeed, you never resisted or questioned any of his demands; you were the epitome of obedience. he ceased his mean streak and shifted his focus to a far more interesting activity: your uniform. he imagined you wearing a much sexier gown, the skirt barely reaching mid-thigh, complemented by a deep neckline that would reveal more of your cleavage.

and chenle was completely right. he loved the sight of you climbing steps with a duster in hand, cleaning a spot that was conveniently out of reach. with your new, skimpier attire, it allowed him a perfect view of your panties. every time you bent over, he couldn't resist sneaking a glimpse of your chest or your ass.

however, that entertainment eventually lost its luster; he craved more than just watching you. it was then that he gently pressed your back against the wall and ground his body against yours, the bulge on his pants rubbing your thighs, peppering kisses along your neck.

you weren't particularly welcoming, but he presented you with a choice: you could be a good girl and let him have his fun, and in return, he would even give you a raise; or he could fire you without hesitation.

needless to say what you chose.

your close friend, JAEMIN, who happened to be a talented photographer, had always held you in high regard. since the beginning, he had "admired and respected your unique presence", as he said, seeing you as his primary source of inspiration and even his muse. whenever he approached you with the request to be his model for his photography sessions, he didn't have to work hard to convince you, knowing well that your nature as a people pleaser made it near impossible for you to say no.

initially, the photography sessions appeared normal. you felt a bit out of place, uncertain about what to do with your body and how to pose naturally. you were somewhat stiff, unsure of how to act. jaemin, however, noticed your discomfort and stepped in to help. he reassured you to relax and simply be yourself, advising you not to overthink. from time to time, he gently guided you into various poses, giving constructive feedback to help you loosen up. and it worked, you found yourself getting more relaxed and even feeling proud of yourself as he showered you with compliments.

once jaemin noticed you were becoming more at ease in front of the camera, a mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes. over time, the clothing options for your photoshoots grew increasingly provocative and sensual.

low-cut dresses and revealing shirts highlighted your cleavage, while miniskirts and tiny shorts barely concealed your underwear. the transition from fully clothed to almost baring it all happened so gradually and naturally that you scarcely noticed. the entire process was efficient and seamless, and by the time you realized it, you were left in your lingerie — that he picked personally —, not having fully grasped the incremental removal of your clothes.

jaemin couldn't believe his luck during each shoot. the images he captured of you had inadvertently become fodder for his… private pleasure. the provocative poses he carefully orchestrated provided him with a treasure trove of material to fuel his fantasies. whether it was admiring your form or imagining scenarios involving you, the photos served his purpose well.

he found himself losing count of the numerous times he'd jerked off to images of you, his restraint wearing thin. the proximity and yet the distance from you that he endured at each shoot became increasingly unbearable. the need to feel your touch, to physically be with you, had reached a breaking point. his thoughts filled with the sweet sounds he longed to draw from your lips, and he realized the urgent necessity to move beyond mere pictures and experience the real thing.

then, the shoots took a drastic turn once the sessions started to delve into a more… intimate territory. now, you posed fully exposed, completely naked, bared before the camera like a blank canvas. you couldn't quite understand how he had managed to persuade you to willingly embrace nudity, considering it was something you'd never thought you could do in your life. however, his prowess with words coupled with your own tendency to give in to them had ultimately led you down this path.

as always, jaemin relished these moments of freedom to touch you, his deft hands roaming over your body with the pretext of adjusting your poses. you, in your shyness, acquiesced to his actions without complaint, allowing him to do as he pleased under the guise of artistic direction.

he would tenderly stroke your thighs, gently spreading them apart, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his eyes feasted on the sight before him, his fingertips brushing against your cunt ever so slightly, eliciting a surprised gasp from your mouth. he would say some bullshit about creating the right atmosphere, a means to help you fully immerse yourself in the art or whatever, while his actions spoke louder than his words.

you didn't even know exactly what to do or think when, suddenly, his warm tongue dove into your pussy. you instinctively attempted to close your legs, only to be held in place by jaemin's sturdy arms, which firmly kept you motionless. he eagerly and desperately lavied your sensitive flesh with his mouth, making you feel like his favorite meal that he couldn't get enough of, as if he had spent days starving and you were the first thing he could lay his hands on.

you were unaware of it, but jaemin had started recording the session since the very beginning. he seemed less interested in still photos, as he carefully recorded every moment — the soft gasps and subtle moans that escaped your lips, the expression of pleasure and wonder that crossed your face. he knew he would have plenty more material to enjoy in the days to come, once this session was done and, if he was even more lucky, you would become his favorite particular porn star.

you know, JISUNG is not intentionally like that, it's just that he becomes uncontrollable when he's around you. you're his first girlfriend, and often, he wonders how he got so lucky to land a hottie like you, because you're the girl he's always dreamed of having.

being his first relationship, he's still learning how to navigate things and isn't quite sure how to express his desires. since it's still early in the relationship, he hesitates to speak up about his wants and doesn't think the time is right yet. as a result, his mind often drifts to imagining... certain scenarios, even during the most innocent of interactions with you.

are you eating ice cream? he can't help but imagine how cute you would look with your soft lips wrapped around his cock as he fucks your throat and watches your eyes fill up with tears. tying your hair to do household chores? you would look so good with his fingers tangled in your locks as he pounded you from behind against the kitchen counter, pressing your face on the cool surface as he listen to your moans. do you need a shoulder massage? he can't help but notice how his large hand can easily encircle your neck, thinking about how this is such a perfect spot to hold onto when he's inside you and how good it will feel.

sigh… at the end of the day, the only thing he ends up fucking is his own fist. and that's exactly what he was doing now, but this time it was different, because you were right there beside him, peacefully sleeping in his bed, making it the first time you stayed over. he was happy because he could finally cuddle and hold you throughout the whole night.

but there was also a problem because he could finally cuddle and hold you throughout the whole night. as soon he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, his hormones were already stirring. the moment you snuggled against him, he could feel his boxers getting too tight for comfort, your ass pressing against his growing bulge in a way that was just too good.

he was both grateful and a bit frustrated that you were already asleep. he wondered what would happen if you were to notice his struggles, but he was the only one who could find relief at the moment. that's what led him to the situation he was in now, secretly-not-so-secretly touching himself right next to you while admiring your tiny, thin pajamas that served as such a nice visual material for him.

the clothes in question was a pair of thin, soft fabric shorts combined with a spaghetti strap top. the shorts were short and snug, leaving very little to the imagination. the thin material seemed almost translucent in certain lights, barely concealing what was underneath. the spaghetti strap top revealed just the right amount of shoulder and cleavage, adding to the overall alluring effect.

he wanted to touch you so bad, to taste you, to feel you around him. he would give anything to fill you up with his cum, stuff you until it was leaking out of your tight pussy, just for him to push it inside you again and make you take everything he has to give you. he arched back, head thrown back in ecstasy, his hips bucking upward as he climaxed and, before he could think properly, he was already shooting ropes of cum all over your sleeping face.

he knew he just did something weird and wrong, and he felt guilty, but… you looked incredibly hot and cute all at once like that. he almost became hard again, but then you started to stir, and he immediately froze. if you woke up right now, how on earth would he explain what he had just done?

he was on the verge of panicking when he noticed you had stopped stirring, still sleeping peacefully. he let out a sigh of relief, but then he quickly remembered a new problem: how exactly was he supposed to clean you up now?

HAECHAN was glad and thankful that god made you dumb, otherwise he would never get the chance to spend so much time with you and be alone in your room so many times, studying together for your exams.

when you approached him for assistance in raising your grades, haechan thought he was dreaming. he pinched himself to make sure it was real, and without thinking twice he accepted your request.

haechan never thought he'd ever be in a girl's house, let alone your room. it was such a pleasant surprise to be there, surrounded by you. every time he was in your room, it almost felt like a paradise to him.

he loved being near you, so close that your scent would fill his nostrils. your shampoo, your perfume, and the strawberry flavored lip gloss on your lips… it was too much for him to bear. he couldn’t keep his gaze away from your cleavage, imagining what it would feel like to bury his face in your chest. or to be between your thighs, he didn't even need to eat you out (though it would be awesome too), just sniffing your sex scent would be enough... damn, he was hard again.

haechan almost missed your words, as you mentioned it was getting late and you had to go home, since you decided to study at haechan's place that day. despite his disappointment that you had to leave so soon, he was also glad, as now he could finally relieve the tightness in his pants.

he quickly opened his closet and grabbed a pair of your panties, the most recent one he had obtained. ever since the study sessions had begun, he made a habit of taking a pair of your panties from either your drawer or laundry basket whenever you left him alone in your room.

haechan wasted no time in pulling down his pants and releasing his throbbing cock, leaking with pre-cum. he rubbed the fluid all over his length as he brought the underwear to his face, pressing it against his nose and breathing deeply, inhaling your delicious scent. a soft moan escaping his lips as his hand began moving in a steady pace, while he slowly and intently breathed in your essence.

his hand moved with an ever-increasing speed, his mind filled with thoughts about you. he was so lost in the moment that he didn't even notice when you suddenly appeared in the doorway of his room, stunned by the view. you didn't mean to catch him like that, you had returned to pick up your keys, which you had left in the living room. however, you heard haechan calling (moaning) out to you from his room and...

he was caught completely off guard when you called his name, and his eyes widened in shock when he realized you were there. as much as he was startled and embarrassed, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. instead, his motions became even more urgent, the expression of slight disgust on your face was an unexpected turn-on to him. being watched like this made him peak faster than usual, bringing your panties to his cock, finishing on it as he always do, coating the cloth with his cum.

well, he can't even tell you that this isn't what it looks like.

as your best friend, RENJUN, always had your best interests at heart. you grew up with very strict parents who controlled your life and limited your experiences, leaving you as a naive adult. you only achieved your freedom when you moved out and shared an apartment with your dear friend, who was the first person to encourage you to leave and offered you unconditional support. he promised to stay by your side no matter what, and the two of you intended to stick together until you could afford separate places of your own.

he wasn't lying about being a safety net for you, just as he always had. he did want to protect you from your crazy parents, but that wasn't the only reason he wanted you to move in with him. now it was just you and him. all alone. the situation seemed like a dream come true for him, and he found himself clinging to you more than ever, enjoying the increased amount of time you spent together.

renjun had always been a touchy person, particularly with you. however, since you started to live together, it seems his touches have increased tenfold, taking advantage of your innocent view.

he seemed way more comfortable touching different parts of your body, always finding some excuse that you believed, as you trusted him and couldn't see any ill intent in his behavior. his hands would caress your belly, occasionally making their way to your ass, and if he felt bold, he even groped your breasts. despite his increasingly intimate touches, you dismissed his behavior as friendly affection. it wasn't that you didn't recognize the sexual undertones in his actions, but rather that you chose not to see them that way with him. you trusted him implicitly, blinding yourself to the true nature of his behavior.

he also developed a habit of sneaking peeks at you showering or changing, making it a regular occurrence. he even went as far as entering your room while you were asleep, getting off beside you and cleaning himself with one of your panties, then he would place the cloth back on your drawer, all so he could see you wearing them when he peeked under your dress the next day, smiling proudly at the thought that you didn’t even know his cum was all over it.

it's not like he really needs to fuck you, although he would love to, but just being close to you, holding you, touching you was enough. for example, when you're cuddling while watching a movie and you fall asleep, he always uses that opportunity to slide his dick between your thighs and fuck them, carefully in not moaning too loudly to not bother your sleep. it's always a nice experience and more than he could ever ask for, but he was sure that soon you would let him bury himself deep inside your pussy, he would make it happen no matter what

MARK's gaze was fixated on the window, shifting between your house and the nearby wall clock. it was a familiar routine now — every night at 8 pm, he waited expectantly, counting down the minutes until the moment you would cross the door to your room.

mark couldn't tell if you were truly unaware of his presence or if you were intentionally putting on a show, but he had to admit that he loved it. since you moved in, this had become an habit that he couldn't break not even if he wanted to. as soon as you turned on the lights, mark's pupils widened with excitement. "finally," he thought, scooting closer to the window and settling into his cushion, his eyes locked onto your every move.

you began the familiar routine by tossing your purse onto your bed, then you took a moment to stretch and untie your hair. but this was just foreplay to the main event — mark's favorite part had begun. it was the moment when the true magic happened. he sat back, ready to take in the spectacle that was unfolding before his eyes.

as your hands lifted the hem of your shirt, a tantalizing reveal of your skin unfurled. mark could already feel his cock stirring inside his pants, his panting breaths becoming more pronounced. he observed the weariness on your face and noticed your deliberate pace. perhaps it was fatigue that slowed your movements, but he didn't mind. it gave him time to appreciate you even more.

he leaned in closer, his eyes devouring every inch of your body as you slowly removed your clothes. each moment was a delicious tease, building up the sensation within him. as soon as his eyes fell upon you in your lingerie, his pupils widened in surprise and desire. the garment was a new addition to your collection — and it was in his favorite color. he couldn't help but wonder if you had purchased it with him specifically in mind. the sight of you in that delicate lace and fabric heightened his arousal, making him ache with want.

his movements were automatic when he pulled down his pants and underwear just enough to free his aching cock, wrapping his hand around it. mark stroke his dick, his gaze remained fixated on you, refusing to move even an inch as he watched you undo the clasp of your bra. his lower lip caught between his teeth when he saw your perfect boobs jiggling softly as you moved around.

his eyes taking in the sight of your upper body, traveling down as you move your hands to reach the waistband of your panties, bending over to pull them down, giving him the chance to look at your ass and how your pretty pussy was being crushed between your thighs. he let out a low hiss through clenched teeth, his hand finding a steady rhythm as his breaths quickened, a soft moan of pleasure escaped his lips. his gaze fixed on you, his brow furrowing in desire. you were so beautiful, so gorgeous, so hot, so, so…. so everything!

it wasn't a want anymore, it was need. he needed you. he needed you so bad. he didn't even know your name, but he knew you were the one who could fulfill his desires.

he let out a disheartened whimper as you reached for your robe, the fabric concealing your lovely form and plunging the room into darkness, robbing him of the sight he yearned to behold. that was his least favorite part. he hated resorting to using his imagination, but in the absence of the real thing, he had no choice.

closing his eyes, he continued his movements, imagining how it would feel to kiss your lips, to make out with you until you gasped for breath. he thought about trailing his mouth down your body, giving your beautiful breasts the attention they so rightly deserve. he would love to have you squirming under him. he would get on his knees, wrap those gorgeous legs of yours around him and feast on you until you were shaking and screming out for more. he just knew you taste good.

he imagined how your voice would sound like when he slide deep inside you, feeling your heat envelop him like a glove. he started to buck his hips up, thrusting into his hand harder, his moans filling his room. he imagined how would it feel to have you clenching around him, how you would cry so prettily when he played with your sensitive bud until you cream his whole lenght. mark felt the familiar tightening of his balls, his entire body tensing until he finally came, smearing the white fluid all over his hand, his mouth open in a silent gasp. panting, he fell back onto the bed, his eyes still closed as he thought about how he couldn't wait for the next night.

after suffering an injury during practice, JENO found himself confined to a hospital bed for a few days of observation. at first, the prospect of spending time in a hospital seemed like the epitome of boredom and jeno was convinced it was the worst thing that could happen to him at the moment. however, that all changed when he met you, his sexy nurse.

suddenly, the hospital stay didn't seem so bad after all.

jeno found himself unable to keep his eyes off you, who frequently attended to him. he noticed the the gentle sway of you hips as you walked, and his eyes couldn't help but roam up and down your form when you bent over to adjust his pillows. whenever you spoke, his mind wandered to thoughts of how your lips would feel against his own.

you were consistently and diligently attentive to his needs, always arriving promptly whenever he rang for assistance. sometimes, he even displayed childish behavior when other nurses came to attend to him, insisting that only you were capable of addressing his concerns.

it didn't escape his notice that you were a relatively new nurse, experiencing your first time on the job. this realization sparked a sly plan in his mind, as he knew you might find it challenging to turn down his requests. he was fully aware of your inexperience, making him eager to push his limits and see how far he could go while you navigated your new role. he was determined to take advantage of the power dynamic, using your hesitation to explore the boundaries of what he could ask for and get away with.

for example, he would often ask for full body massages from you, and the sensation of your delicate hands roaming all over his body would drive him absolutely wild. with unabashed confidence, he'd make sure to vocalize just how much he loved the feel of your touch, complimenting you on your skillful hands and openly expressing his desire to return the favor.

one time, he pretended that his condition was more severe than it truly was, just so that he could have you attend to him during bath time. he, once again, relished the feeling of your hands gently cleaning him from head to toe, watching your shy expression while you attempted to maintain casual conversation, your focus interrupted by the sounds of pleasure that escaped his lips uncontrollably.

one time, after pretending his condition was more severe than it truly was, he got the chance to feel the heavenly sensation of having you run your hands over his body while you washed him. it was a brief but unforgettable experience as he savored every moment of your touch. he was so hard that it was painful. he loved how your shy expression couldn't quite hide your feelings while you tried to keep a casual conversation going, yout words faltering every time a sound of pleasure escaped his lips.

he would never forget the way you looked at him with surprise, shyness, and a hint of embarrassment when he came on your hand with just a few of your innocent touches. your eyes widened slightly and a shy, awkward, subtle smile formed on your lips as you look away briefly, trying to hide your reaction.

it was almost humorous how swiftly you completed the task of bathing him after that incident, as if you were eager to finish the job and move on quickly. in the days that followed, you seemed to make a conscious effort to minimize the time you spent in his room, probably to avoid any awkward or potentially embarrassing encounters.

he couldn't help but notice your attempts to distance yourself after the incident, but he had a plan in mind to fix this: he decided that you simply needed to get used to his requests, just as you had gotten used to fulfilling the other needs he'd asked for. what's more, he was determined to have some form of sexual contact with you before he left the hospital, and he was set on making it happen.

it was indeed a perfect opportunity. he called for you late in the night, knowing you were on the night shift and there would be no disruptions. he wasted no time in making his request clear: he needed you to get him off. he almost couldn't contain his amusement at the look of wide-eyed surprise on your face, quickly dismissing your denials with a simple explanation. he told you how he didn't have the strength to do it himself, how his weakened condition made it difficult for him to take care of himself in that way, how ill he felt, and how he needed release as a man, and that it was your duty as his nurse to help him.

his heart nearly skipped a beat and he felt something like fireworks going off inside his chest when he saw you bite your lower lip and give a small nod of agreement. once again, the hospital stay didn't seem so bad after all.

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