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this is honestly probably my most fav chapter. just the comfort, not just from the couple themselves but people around them, the possible direction of this story - everything was perfection. for all the pain that rid has caused us over the past few chapters, this FINALLY healed me đ„ș
the ending had me LITERALLY PUNCHING MY FIST IN THE AIR, AND IM SO EXCITED TO SEE WHERE HER JOURNEY TAKES HER!! it was a very very unique twist to the story, one that i definitely was not expecting! she was BOSS BITCH to do that and we expect nothing less from her đ€đ€đ€ this is literally my comfort couple, so thank you for another masterpiece of a chapter love đ
colour me in: redraft | jjk (m)
Summary:Â The calm is more appreciated after a storm. Life with Jungkook proves to you that sometimes, joy can, in fact, overshadow grief. Yet, not without confronting and removing all hurdles standing in your way once and for all.
âł pairing: Jungkook x reader âł rating: 18+ âł genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some tame angst, sooo much fluff, smut âł warnings: new relationshippppp, so much hugging and kissing, yoongi!! tae!!, tears, abandonment issues, talk about social anxiety (just briefly and nothing serious!), jungkook drops a big question :'), a surprise in the middle, a surprise near the end, and then a SURPRISE at the end lol, many surprises, they're so crazy for each other it's gross; explicit sexual content: okay â kook is wearing a chain.. this vibe :'), making out, showering together, shower sex, spanking, biting, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, mouth/face f*cking, mirrorssss, he likes her ass and tiddies, tears, choking, v brief ass stuff, rough and soft sex, dom and big cawk jk, vocal jk, multiple orgasms, they're simps; ALSO YEAH THE ENDING :') âł word count: 25.3k âł a/n: so when i said this chapter would be shorter⊠welp lol. but i still think it introduces the next arc really well. i kinda love the ending!! .. and the next part will be </3 :'''') as always beta'd by my lovely @missgeniality đ€ i hope you guys like this one a lot. worked my ass off for this fr :') if you do, please do support the chapter and interact with me, too, it makes my day <3âł listen to: i need u by yaeow | full collaborative playlist đ€
SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER
Monday morningâs breakfast is awkward. Or at least, the very first minute of it.
The hands of your watch drift to 9 AM; you shouldâve expected you wouldnât be occupying the dining table alone. Your parents, sipping the last of their coffee, arenât that much of a surprise after all.
You breathe a quiet breath of relief when their eyes dart towards your timid forms at the threshold, then back to the table. And a moment later, theyâre pushing their chairs back across the marble floor before they clear the path to breakfast for the two of you.
Your father acknowledges you with a brief, polite nod on his way out, even flashing a similarly quick smile. Ingenuine, because his glance, fleeting when directed to you, is as disappointed as your Momâs behind him.
Today, you understand. Somewhere in the depths of your recovering mind, you feel upset about shitfacing yourself so thoroughly, too.
You havenât seen your mother in over two days. Jungkookâs post-showcase confessions brought you to Eun, and the next morning you barely scanned your room before you left for her place again.
Guess the momentary encounter in the hallway doesnât quite count; you could hardly crack your eyes open. Combined with half the dozen naps you took in your locked room the very next day, you wonât exactly expect pride from her right now.
Until now, as she advances towards your body, you didnât consider much of her side; you stayed focused on the other occurrences passing after sunset. Moments whose scent your sheets still carry.
As your mother comes to a stand, you prepare your vocal cords, breathing in to explain yourself until you realise that she isnât looking at you at all. Her eyes are firmly glued to Jungkookâs face, devoid of enmity for once.
Instead, she flattens her dress, sighing through her red-tinted lips before she nods towards him and simply says, âThank you.â
And thatâs it. A little breathtaking, entirely new.
Youâre dumbfounded when she leaves; Jungkook doesnât manage a single word. You imagine that if youâre baffled, heâs probably rethinking her words to assure he didnât hallucinate them.
But neither of you did. And the silence lingering for a couple more seconds proves the depth of reality; not that youâll change your mind about leaving your place. But the hint of appreciation, shot directly at him is a pleasant first nevertheless.
Breakfast is patient but fast. The quiet atmosphere doesnât derive from the night before or what your mother just left you with, but from the emotional fatigue slowly dropping off your shoulders.
Jungkook lets you feast in peace, a soft palm rubbing over the back of your hand every now and then to assure youâre okay. And you are. Youâre getting used to these changes.
To this alternative to whatever you feared before. A chance to erase all words and start on a blank page; a white canvas, waiting for vibrant colours instead of monochrome gloom.
Yet, despite the tranquillity last night, still present in the air and in your aching limbs, you donât understand the sincerity of all the confessions he uttered until you leave.
Because breathing in your car isnât as suffocating as it was the last few weeks. Back when youâd navigate through the town alone, the passenger seat empty. Or when you plucked up the courage and drove to the showcase numbly.
Or when the pain pierced through your chest; when your drunk ass thought the world would remain blue forever.
All of it is gone when you buckle up, shifting in your seat as you announce, âOkay. Letâs finally get you home.â
The engine roars for a moment, the car trembling, but you only register the knot in your throat when he says, âFeels so unfair of me. Having my girl drive me around so much.â
You donât miss the endearment; neither the way your heart skips a beat.
Incapable of a proper reaction, you clear your throat and stutter, all at once and oddly in succession until you settle on a weak, âWhy unfair?â
âBecause. You do it a lot.â
You really do not. The night the museum closed and you dropped him off at your place was one of a few times; besides, heâs operated your vehicle more than enough before, too.
But you donât contradict him, instead lightly suggest, âWell, you can drive if you want.â
Youâre relieved when he joins your smile, dimples ever-so-sweet and genuine as he promises, âItâs fine. Iâll just stare at you.â
The shudder along your spine is delightful â relentless, he keeps your nerves alight. Perhaps heâs back to the self you knew pre-broken-hearts, playful and teasing, but the effect of his words curses through your veins hotter than ever.
âThatâs creepy,â you still retort; youâll gladly keep fighting this sweet, awkward battle against compliments for life, unaware how to handle them. âAnd it makes me nervous.â
âSorry.â
Jungkook laughs, the back of two fingers reaching to your cheek to graze it featherlightly. Maybe he feels the heat beneath your skin, enhanced through his touch.
By now, youâve spent a year with him â as a party fling, a class frenemy and a blue flower. But each second ticking away brings a new wave of soft, shy speechlessness. New honeymoon emotions.
The certainty of his reciprocated feelings, the fact that youâre finally on the same page, makes you rethink his tender confessions and touches differently. Makes you navigate the relationship differently.
His eyes drift back to the quiet, narrow street, surrounded by houses and blooming gardens. Probably as tired of the idyllic utopia as you, he doesnât spare the suburban setting any more attention.
He only lets a flat hand rub against his thighs, nipping at his clothing as he says, âGod, I canât wait to get out of these damn joggers.â
Right. While not a main focus, you did find the special attire at breakfast today quite amusing.
âDid you even get to shower since picking me up?â you ask.
âYeah. When you were napping again yesterday. Just gotta wash my hair later tonight.â
Hmm. You spent half your day knocked out; Jungkook couldâve circled the world and you wouldnât have known.
âOh. Good.â
The road proceeds straight, emptier near the suburbs. You allow a reckless glance before tackling busy streets; his eyes meet yours in curiosity, hair even messier than the night he met you in front of the bar.
When he left his apartment in joggers and an old shirt, mane untamed and no extra clothing at hand, he probably didnât expect to abandon his place for so long. It gives you solace that he doesnât regret it.
You drop the million memories of yesterdayâs sunset burning into your eyes and everything that introduced it. The drunk words and the begging.
And then drop everything that followed afterwards; more pleading, more touching, more confessions that were in no way uttered through inebriate but not quite through sobriety either.
âWhat are you thinking about?â he asks.
You drop all the remembrances to focus on the moment; just to make sure that itâs real. So you ask, âWhy didnât you wash your hair there, too?â
For a moment, you see a flicker in his eyes, short-lived and quick; and his answer shoots out even more rapidly, âJust so.â
He emphasises his admission with a shrug of his shoulder, but itâs not nearly as convincing as he anticipates. Not buying a word, you push again, âCâmon.â
âI swear.â
âIâm curious now, though.â
Thereâs a momentary drop of silence before Jungkook hums, thinking as though heâs crafting a plausible excuse. Then, he says, âI didnât wanna be away for too long.â
ââŠWhy?â
âWhy would I want to be?â
AhâŠ
Hmm. Well, maybe thatâs enough for now.
Maybe heâs still not used to laying his secrets open. Maybe you need to practise patience, too, and stop digging like that.
You know thatâs not all there is, but you certainly understand that itâs not a lie after all. Despite the pause and the obvious way his brain racked for a reason, his tone is genuine. Youâve experienced his insecurities before â thatâs not what it was this time.
So you focus on the steering wheel instead, turning it left and away from the truck you drove way too close to. Your distraction might kill you â right there, next to you, clearing his throat and sitting up.
âOh,â he says, segueing, and you let him, âwait, I forgot. Could we stop by at Yoongiâs for a sec? I wanted to see how heâs been doing.â
An abrupt change in topics, but not too abstract. As someone merely acquainted with the man, youâve been collecting info on his state from Jimin; of course Jungkook would drop by personally.
You take a look at your digital watch; itâs barely ten and you donât need to get away before 10:45. Taehyung agreed to meet with you to accompany you to your new potential flat again, so you should have time for a detour.
But.
âIs heâŠâ you start, âgonna be okay with me being there?â
âWhy?â
âI mean, just âcause⊠You know. We werenât the closest for a while.â
Jungkookâs forehead wrinkles in new perplexion, muttering a few words. It takes a couple seconds â but eventually, he figures out that youâre not referring to Yoongi and yourself, and his expression changes immediately.
To subtle pain, youâd guess, like he doesnât want to relive the memory. Like it never happened; like you werenât two pieces of the same shattered heart this entire time.
But then he sighs, a hand wandering to your thigh. He kneads it softly, as a reminder to himself and to you that the past isnât transpiring right now; that youâve finally breathed and waded through it.
His optimism is encouraging when he says, âNah. He thinks youâre cool.â
âI guess,â you mumble. You tap the steering wheel nervously, lips in a thin line before you add a hushed, âAnd if not, thatâs alright, isnât it? Like, hey, as long as you like me? Yeah, I shouldnât overthink itâŠâ
Jungkook releases air through his nose. You perceive a subtle shake of his head, as if to scold you, hear him say earnestly but gently, âDonât worry about me. I donât just like you.â
And whether casual or not, his words engulf your body immediately, like a soothing warm touch across your chest, yet effectively freezing your beating heart in place.
You canât pinpoint whether the weight of his own words ever affects him as much as it affects you, or whether harbouring these emotions has become a familiar habit to him. At least to you, his tone is conversational and promising, perhaps even subliminally reassuring.
âAt the very least,â he continues, âheâll never disapprove of you the way Jimin disapproves of me.â
Which⊠snaps you back into reality for a second.
Your friendâs name is connected to more than mere dislike for the man next to you; currently, you think of dark nights and lamp-lit streets. After-midnight shenanigans and near tears in your own car, driven by the man who broke and mended your heart.
It reminds you of a blurry picture; two guys standing near an entrance, the older of them patting the otherâs shoulder; smiling at him.
You do wonder if it was a fabrication of your mind.
âForget Jimin,â you tell Jungkook, speech broken when you take another left and resumed when broader streets start. âAlso. He did say heâs growing fond of you.â
âBecause you like me. I still need to prove my worth to him.â
You tut.
âKook, you donât need to do anything. Heâll come around eventually. Just be you.â
âItâs fine, honestly.â He leans in, nudging your elbow, echoing you with a teasing undertone as he says, âAs long as you like me.â
You love it when the initial nature of your relationship breaks through the mist of newfound passion; when you find the foundation of what you were, remembering how you landed here.
Which is why you bite back a laugh the moment you suppress a sassy, teasing remark, as if on reflex. One steer shy from pulling into a parking lot, you breathe out. If you halted here now, youâd kiss him, youâre sure.
But you merely laugh, squinting your eyes as you say, âYouâre okay.â
Yoongiâs apartment, now inhabited by only one instead of two people, lies a couple miles from the campus. Jungkook guides you through the streets, jumping from one harmless topic to another â you reach his friendâs place a lot faster than you expected.
The building stands at a quiet place, surrounded by mid-high trees that give the grey colour of the complex a bit of liveliness. You walk to the entrance laughing about something stupid, a subtle nudge of his shoulder here, you pushing against his arm there.
But despite the familiarity and whatever occurred last weekend, itâs still odd jumping into the girlfriend role just yet. The word itself wonât even roll off your tongue very easily so far because you canât believe a thing about this new reality.
So your hand dangles next to his awkwardly. Your thoughts keep drifting, registering half his sentence at times. What-if situations of gentle kisses and upcoming nights spent together tighten your chest.
Jungkookâs speech is clear and fluent, so you donât know what your impact on him is exactly. At least heâs made sure you do have one on him â but you still wish you had a map through his mind to understand every thought he houses for you. Every emotion.
On the way up you feel a little dizzy; whether itâs due to the circular shape of the staircase or his proximity, you donât know. You only realise that somethingâs still bothering you when youâre halfway up, coming to a halt with one foot on the next step.
âOkay, seriously,â you say, and he turns to you immediately, puzzled as he drops to the same level as you. Close to you.
âWhat?â
âYou said you didnât wanna leave,â you repeat, still stuck on the hair washing and staying longer thought, âwhy not?â
The answer could be simple. Could be rooted in emotions and the confessions you later uttered â but there must be something more. You saw it in the brief feeling flashing across his eyes, sitting in the passengerâs seat with silence sealing his lips.
Maybe something happened⊠because something always happens.
âYouâre still thinking about that?â Jungkook questions, eyes wide in disbelief; lips pouting.
âNo secrets, right?â
This seems to snap him out of all mysteries, last nightâs conversation travelling to the forefront of his mind. But something about your curiosity amuses him. He wraps the fingers of his left hand around the staircase reeling, head dropping with a delicate smile.
His hair hides his eyes, but you know theyâre sparkling; voice a mild drizzle when he starts, âItâsâŠâ He draws in, inked digits touching your elbow before moving up your arm absentmindedly. âDonât worry so much. Itâs nothing harmful at all.â
You wait. Let his thumb graze your neck, up to your chin.
He sighs, almost exasperated in a way. âYou speak in your sleep, you know?â
Wait. What?
You blink, thoughts disoriented. The staircase is dimly lit, but you recognise the slight upward curve of his lips; more empathetic than teasing.
So you still do?
âHuh?â you make.
âI think you dreamed of waking up a couple times? You hadnât, though, and itâd always be something about being alone again.â
Again.
The word reverberates through your mind, dragging and stretching. Didnât you once read that a broken heart is akin to serious rehab, accompanied by withdrawal symptoms and slowly healing scars?
You guess your heart was hurting more than you already knew.
âOkay,â you say, nodding when he does, thumb lifting your head when you drop it. You swallow thickly. âWhat did I say exactly?â
He shrugs one shoulder. âI donât know anymore. Something about me leaving. And I was scared of waking you up while gone âcause youâd actually think Iâd left.â
You hum. Allow yourself a moment to process the info; you seek out fragments of your dreams, but you draw a blank. You feel guilty about his concerns, yet relieved. Vulnerable. And somewhat reassured.
âIâm sorry,â you finally say.
Your voice is barely above a whisper â less because of the conversation. More because of the touch on your cheek. Itâs soft against your skin, and you shiver. The flutter in your chest is only just bearable.
Thatâs the thing about falling in love. Itâs sweet â so much sometimes that it twists your guts. Youâre in so deep, you could hurl.
âNah. You donât need to worry about this anymore, okay?â he murmurs.
His eyes dig into yours. Dark and shiny through his healthy tresses, livelier than ever. Sincere.Â
You, on the other hand, must look unconvinced without intending to, because his mouth aligns with yours soon after.
He exhales, tilting his head, and says, âLook,â leans in, leaves a featherlight kiss against your cheek, right next to his thumb, âI mean it.â
Guess being with him comes with occasional mental blackouts. And regular arrhythmia. The palpitations behind your ribs are almost ridiculous; instead of gripping your own chest, you grasp his shirt immediately.
Lightly, as if you could collapse without this anchor.
He lets you pull him closer just a little, whispering as if someone could hear, âWhatâs wrong?â
Vulnerability hidden, you blink again, and joke, âNothing. Just thought you were gonna kiss me.â
Jungkook smiles. His nose brushes against yours, toying a bit, and his bunny teeth make him look somewhat younger when he voices, âYou want me to kiss you?â
âI always do.â
Your grin is playful, but your heart is pounding in your chest. Who wouldâve thought the journey from a car to an apartment could be so long, so thrilling?
His snicker is gentle and canorous, knees careful against yours. Your heartbeat accelerates some more, rose-tinted lips opting towards their goal. You part your mouth, ready with a deep breath.
But the two of you are always subject to disturbances â so youâre disappointed but not surprised when you hear rushed steps on top of the staircase, strolling down and crossing your path just when Jungkook backs away.
The stranger passes by you with initial surprise in his eyes, not expecting you, but soon gets over it and drops his gaze again. And once heâs gone, Jungkook winks, a hand on your back pushing you forward gently.
âLater,â he says.
You know as you ascend the stairs.
Know that with the ease with which you handle your feelings for each other, youâll strive towards a future where you wonât be haunted by dreams of being alone. Where you wonât fear his departure, and where his kisses wonât be interrupted by this cruel world.
The building reminds you of when youâd frequent the dorm you used to know. The walls and hallways are similarly built, narrow and somewhat cheap. They look like most buildings from the inside do, honestly, but you like the pleasant illusion the nostalgia brings.
Even the bathrooms are located near the end of the hallways; Jungkook once told you that Tae and Yoongi have their own kitchen, unlike him back when he still housed his dorm. But thereâs a communal bathroom here, too; allegedly one reason why Tae moved out.
The only thing that separates this place from Jungkookâs old dorm is the subtle difference in scent. Not pure testosterone.
You smile.
The mood doesnât match with what you felt back in June at all.
Back when you stomped to Jungkookâs dorm, furious about yet another insignificant issue, you didnât think your fingers would ever be brushing his like they are now. Or when you escaped the rain and entered the buildingâs warmth, your umbrella leaving behind a trail of raindrops.
Your relationships, your priorities, your emotions. Your universe changed faster than the seasons.
As you walk past a random door, Jungkook cranes his neck, staring as if he could x-ray-glare a hole into it and glance at what lays behind it. Perhaps heâs thinking back, too.
You donât know about all the things he experienced throughout the years there. Part of your heart stings because you remember you werenât the only girl who ever frequented his place.
But you still left an impression â if the current status of your relationship isnât proof of it, then the sudden touch along the back of your hand certainly is. A thumb following a vein blindly, opting to grasp your palm into his, yet retracting when you finally come to a stand.
The digit caressing your skin lifts to the door, and his knuckles knock three times, rhythmically. Your chest constricts as you jump back into the moment, probably half as nervous as youâd be if you met Jungkookâs parents.
A moment stretches as you wait for Yoongi to open, allowing yourself just another spiralling thought as you imagine actually daring a meeting with Jungkookâs parents. Itâs too early to think about it, isnât it?
Itâs just.
Since yesterday, youâve created a dozen different scenarios in your head, ranging from a civil, calm conversation with his father to a full snap. Half of you wants to know his genuine thoughts on his sonâs sorrows; the other half wants to rage and then bolt away.
Ugh.
When the door swings open, your hand flashes to Jungkookâs. A startled instinct, even though nothing about the action was surprising or scary. But he doesnât mind â of course he doesnât.
His eyes rush to yours for a second, warm and somewhat thrilled, his smile permanent. And then he looks back at his friend, quietly squeezing your palm, the shy smile soft as he greets, âYouâre walking without clutches, huh?â
Yoongi doesnât respond right away. He looks from Jungkook to you and back. His gaze isnât very telling, but you find amusement in it. If you werenât so ridiculously and inexplicably nervous about his upcoming statement, youâd laugh.
Intently, he grants a peek at your entwined hands, and when he looks at the two of you again, he startsâŠ
Smiling.
Gummies all out, a tiny laugh thrown in between before he says, âOhoho. Youâre here, too?â
The smile turns into a sly grin, a hand clutching the frame of the door. You guess heâs not as balanced after all. Possibly just abandoned his clutches for the short way from the couch to the door.
âI can totally go,â you tell him, the teasing tone missing; soft and small instead.
âWhy in the world would you?â Yoongi steps aside carefully, nodding the two of you inside. You oblige, hearing his voice behind you jest, âNow, would you look at that. Did I do that?â
Jungkook automatically drops on the chair at the tiny dining table, like heâs arrived home, and you follow; make yourself comfortable on the seat next to him. There are three chairs, as though carefully chosen for the pair of friends who used to live together and a guest.
Next to you, Jungkook huffs, leaning back as he watches his friend plop onto the chair in front of him, and asks, âHow would youâve done that?â
âWell, you guys gathered at the hospital because of me.â
Right. Good point.
If he just knew how that night played out. Actually, you think he just might, yet not quite aware of its severity.
âNot because of you,â Jungkook promises, âI just charmed her again.â
You laugh. So does Yoongi.
He isnât irritated or taken aback by the youngerâs boldness; in truth, he seems entertained. Arms crossed, eyes small and grin wide. He half mocks, âThe young ones are charming for sure these days.â
âSpoken like a true Grandpa,â Jungkook remarks. You press your lips into a thin line, but with a faint smile. You only listen; youâre in the territory of two friends who spend their time roasting each other. Youâre not on that level yet, so you observe. âBut I had to.â
âYou had to, huh?â you joke. Okay, observation broken. Your body tilts towards him. âYou didnât need any of your charm for⊠this. But still good to know.â
Because you wouldâve been putty in his hands, no matter what â charm or not.
"Can confirm," Yoongi agrees, nodding towards his friend, "that he was also a proper mess the last couple weeks. Very out of character."
Your eyes roll to the side to catch a glimpse of him, but the moment you detect the rosy dust on Jungkook's cheeks, you avert your gaze immediately.
Admittedly, the guilt in the middle of your chest is undeniable. But there's comfort in knowing you were never the only half who was deeply, perpetually falling.
Yoongi scratches his temple, doesn't meet your eyes; possibly shy when it comes to conversations like these. But he sounds warm and gentle when he says, "I'm really glad you guys are back."
Youâre similarly timid, feeling strange. As if someoneâs congratulating you on a fresh marriage. Or maybe thatâs just the emotion you want, need to feel.
You say, âThanks.â And then, ever-so-terrible with compliments, add a little, âLetâs say it was you. Double thank you to the man of the hour.â
Yoongi pulls a grimace hitherto unseen; it doesnât faze Jungkook, but the Joker-esque grin and wide-eyed nod have you bursting into laughter. His friends are pleasant, you think.
If there was a way to lure Jimin in and convince him of this groupâs collective appeal, you wouldnât hesitate. Thereâs only a limited time you want him to play the petty, protective friend.
âSo, how have you been?â Jungkook eventually asks.
Yoongi rubs the corner of his eye, stretching his injured leg under the table, âNever better. The bank is surviving without me. Besides, I havenât gotten around to making some music in a while.â
âTae did tell me you were enjoying your days off.â
Jungkook reacts with a tiny chuckle, but your eyes widen. You let him finish his sentence, and then spit, âWait, wait. You make music?â
âOh, I mean⊠Iâm not any good,â he explains, wiggling a hand, a little startled as if he forgot you didnât know yet. âI just. Make a few beats every now and then and write my own bars and stuff.â
âWait, rap?â You stare between the boys, to and fro, only a little offended that you didnât know you had a brooding future musician in your midst. âCan I heaââ
âNo.â The answer is immediate. You pout. âBefore you ask, I am way too much of a coward.â
âHeâs amazing,â Jungkook intrudes.
And you whine, âUnfair, Yoongi.â
He imitates your expression, leaning back, copying your stance, and answers in the same childlike tone, âWarm up to me first! Iâll show it to you one day.â
âOne day Iâm gonâst hear it,â you declare, overly dramatic with your chin up, âyou have my taste in music, you know? I know Iâll like it.â
âDonât tempt me.â
âI can try.â
Yoongi blows a raspberry. Youâre not sure what you expected; maybe subtle hostility. But the sense of casual camaraderie is refreshing; lounging comfortably in his living room was a picture far from your mind until now, and you think he enjoys the unforeseen gathering, too.
Because after a moment of stillness, a faint smile touches his lips, his voice back to normal and deep as he remarks, âItâs nice that you guys came. I get bored here a lot.â
Right. You kept wondering.
You donât dive into the matter immediately, instead drenching your voice in a teasing lilt, âEven though Jimin visits you?â
âShut up.â Mock exasperation rolls his eyes as Jungkook appreciates your joke, one foot pressing against yours under the table. âNo. Itâs just been lonely since Tae moved out. Itâs a two people thing with two bedrooms.â
He shrugs his shoulders, attention fully on you. Jungkook either doesnât have much to say or doesnât want to interrupt. Only listens.
âLiving here alone feels like Iâm wasting space and money,â Yoongi finishes.
Curiosity piqued, you probe, âWhat did Tae say when he left?â
âHe offered to let me move in with him. But thatâd be pointless.â
âWhy so?â
âHeâs awesome for offering, but I think he wanted his own place, you know? Why would I intrude then? But I did tell him Iâd look for another place.â
âHave you been?â you ask. You still remember how happy Taehyung looked last time you met him alone.
How he spoke so highly of a life on his own, gladly interrupted by the occasional visits Eun granted him. Yoongi, you think, would probably benefit from acquiring his own place, too â one that doesnât remind him that someone left him behind, inhabiting a vacant space thought for two.
âEvery now and then,â Yoongi admits. âWill think about it some more once my legâs healed.â
You nod in understanding, a thoughtful hum escaping your lips. Yoongi soon leans forward, naked arms on top of the table, and delves into a discussion about the rising costs of rent.
He outlines the challenges of finding the right place in the bustling city, and explains his worries about the empty space in a too-large apartment. And you listen intently.
But as minutes pass, you canât help but notice the contemplative silence Jungkook has fallen into.
Itâs always the same with him â thoughts you canât read, questions you need to postpone.
Because you do glance over at him, observe the distracted furrow of his brow, the distant look in his eyes. You understand heâs once again lost in unknown thoughts, and you sense how jumbled his mind must be.
But you still decide to hold off for the moment, out of respect for the ongoing conversation. You donât focus on addressing his apparent preoccupation until it keeps going until later, way after youâve bid Yoongi goodbye.
âWhy do you seem so reserved?â you ask in the car, his home your new destination.
It must be around quarter past ten; you should still be able to meet Tae within half an hour. Yet, despite the brooding rush, you canât help but wanna drag out the ride, finish this conversation.
âHm?â he voices.
Did he not hear you? Maybe.
You sigh, seeking an available parking spot. Youâve already turned into his street, way past the park, halting close to his entrance. The engine dies, sudden silence inside the vehicle.
âOkay,â you turn towards him, forearm against the wheel. âYouâre a lot less enthusiastic now. Whatâs up?â
He looks distracted. Drags his teeth over his full, pink lower lip hard enough for you to repeat, âHey. Whatâs wrong?â
âUh.â Cue big boba eyes flitting to you. âI was just. Thinking about something.â
âWanna share?â
âYeah. Yeah, uhm. I swear Iâm not trying to be mysterious, just. Not sure how to phrase it.â
Heâs easing himself into this whole thing. The entire opening up act and being fearless with his feelings. So you donât push him, but encourage, âTry. If not now, then maybe later, though?â
âNo, no. Now is fine.â He frees his eyes off the dark bangs when he shakes his head a little, preparing to voice his hidden thoughts. Then, he breathes, âYeah, soâŠâ
One more second.
And.
âWhat if you dropped your plans of moving into that apartment?â
Oh. What?
Does he mean what you think he meansâŠ
There are only two options, right? And you choose to go with the one that would embarrass you less if it turned out wrong.
âShould I⊠do you think I should stay with my family?â you ask, your voice cautious.
But when his hands shoot up, immediately denying your assumption with round eyes, you breathe out through your nose. Relieved when he clarifies, âNo, not at all. I mean, itâs up to you, but thatâs not what I meant.â
So thenâŠ
âSo youâre sayingââ
He interrupts, rushing before he can back down, âMove in with me. And Yoongi could take the apartment you were considering.â
Fuck.Â
You didnât expect your heart to jump up to your throat like that. Itâs a day full of brief heart failures. You barely know how to react anymore.
You stare. Then stare a bit more. And eventually, you simply ask, âReally?â
âYeah, I meanâŠâ He gulps, averting your gaze all of a sudden before it lands back on yours. You chuckle quietly, unprompted, and it boosts his confidence. âYou stayed at mine for days and it worked. It could⊠you knowâ keep working.â
The suggestion lingers like a fresh breeze, grazing your cheeks and twirling around you like a soothing force. He beams â though subtle, he seems to interpret the simultaneous rise of your eyebrows and your lips immediately.
Still, he inquires, âI donât know⊠too soon?â
Technically yes. But then again, no. Because heâs right â youâve already experienced a piece of heaven, tasted the bliss of domesticity with Jeon Jungkook.
âYou really are serious about this, yeah?â
âOnly if you want me to be,â he counters, less tense than before, but a hand rubbing in nervous circles over his knee, âif not, then I was absolutely joking.â
An awkward, little chortle fills the small space of the car; you shake your head, teeth out and smile bright. Thereâs sweetness in knowing that his affection is real. That the thought of shared future pains, joys and days â that itâs all actually become so unbelievably real.
The car is cool in the shadow, but you feel a strange heat coursing through your body. At the end of the street, you see the sunlight brighten the moment he laughs. Fitting.
The crinkly eye smile softens when he reaches for your hand, pulling it off the wheel and wrapping it in his. Thereâs an automatic reaction in your chest, a constant racing when he says, âI mean it, though.â
Brief pause. He looks down to your fingers.
âI think I got used to having you there. And then, at Yoongiâs I had this⊠I donât know, overwhelming urge to tell you. That,â his teeth worry his lip, releasing it softly, âI want you next to me for as long as possible.â
You understand.
He means every minute that society and norms donât force you out of the house. At nights and in the mornings, on off days and holidays. To fall asleep next to his presence, to wake up on the same mattress, too.
And the longing is undeniable; you know that it is. But youâre already swamped with decisions as it is â could you call off the apartment right here, right now? Rethink all you discussed with the landlord, Taehyung or yourself?
Life decisions are harder than that, and despite all the wants infiltrating your body, you canât dive into this without a couple more following thoughts.
You keep gazing into his smouldering eyes, more intense when he looks up. Let their effect send a thrill down your spin, a surge of yearning through your veins.Â
And then, you acknowledge the need for prudence. You savour the moment, let the anticipation built, and flash a sultry smile to ensure that, yes, if not now, then one damn day, Iâll be yours entirely.
âI donât think Iâve ever wanted anything to work more than this,â you admit, âbut I need toââ
You halt. Words come hard to you these days; and the two of you are sensitive. Itâs not easy to reunite after weeks of overthinking and distance; and you donât want to provide more reasons to overthink.
But you forget that as sensitive as Jungkook is, heâs just as understanding and gentle, too.
Because he says, âYou need to think. And I know you canât just pack your things and move over, I justâ I wanted it out there.â
âI know. I know.â
âAnd I,â he continues, âI actually thought you were gonna say no right away since youâre getting out of your childhood home just now, so naturally, you would wanna be alone for a while andââ
You lean forward, pulling your hands out of his grip. His eyes shoot down, baffled and confused, but you donât give him a second to think or speak. In a momentâs notice, his cheeks are squished between your palms, his bunny face now akin to a duck.
âI donât want to be alone. Iâve been alone all my life,â you tell him; Jungkook eyebrows furrow in empathy and worry, but you smile, âI donât wanna be anymore.â
His expression and voice are dorky when he speaks, first words incomprehensible. You let go, watching the red splotches on his cheek, and he repeats, âIs that a yes?â
âItâs⊠I donât know. A to be continued.â
âIâll live with that.â
You donât know if itâs the electrifying prospect of a life together or the confidence he follows his statement up with, but the insanity burns wild in your head. Untamed and dizzying.
âAnd Iâll wait for however long.â
âI didnât even ask, Iâm sorry⊠but are you starting work later today?â
You stand in the middle of Taehyungâs living room, a hand over your eyes to protect them from the bright sunlight. Heâs busy piling the saucers and the cups, and you wait as he drags a vocal in thought.
âNo, no. Iâm off today.â He stands, and you automatically walk the short distance to the kitchen, lingering at the door frame. âNeed the afternoon for an appointment at the doc. So yeah.â
âOh. Everything okay?â
He doesnât speak yet, dishes in the wash basin too loud. They clink and rattle; the moment youâll move to an apartment by yourself, youâll have to wash them yourself, too.
Maybe you can make your place as aesthetically pleasing and beige as Taehyung did. You donât know â you couldnât imagine much today nor discuss further details about the contract and rent and general house rules.
The landlord bailed on you last second. And Taehyung sacrificed over an hour that he couldâve spent keeping Eun company between her morning lessons.
You apologised the second you entered his apartment instead, thankful for the invitation to tea, yet harbouring guilt for wasting his time. But Taehyung proved incredibly kind, waving off your concerns immediately.
He asked, playfully offended, âSo youâre saying a tea party with me is a waste of time?â And then he laughed, immediately shaking his head, âNah. Itâs fine. Am glad someone finally prefers tea over coffee, too.â
So now youâre here.
âYeah, just a check up,â Taehyung answers, âvamps drew my blood and will tell me today if itâs good or not.â
âInteresting way to refer to doctors,â you admit, backing away when he leads you to the exit. You need to be at work in forty minutes tops. âGood then.â
He hands you your blazer, silent for a moment before he says, âTalking about feeling unwell.â You look up, arm halfway through the blazerâs sleeve. âWhat were you doing getting shitfaced like that?â
âUhmâŠâ
Word travels fast. Your cheeks heat up, fingers curling into fists. You smack your lips, letting out a tiny laugh, and ask, âEun told you, huh?â
âMhm. Scolded her for taking you to the bar and leaving you alone.â
You sigh.
You shouldâve guessed that sheâd tattle. And of course you might appear like the helpless, heartbroken girl, seeking comfort in alcohol, dark clubs and blue neon lights. Itâs a little embarrassing, actually.
âKook was there, though,â you defend.
âI know. I called when he was still at your place.â
Huh? What else did he do when you were asleep? Painted a Louvre-ripe masterpiece, probably.
Taehyung decodes the dozen questions in your stare, tumbling until his back leans against the wall. He explains, âWe just talked for a sec. He sounded worried, so I didnât prod too much. Just donât do these things anymore, okay?â
HuhâŠ
You can imagine it well. Partly because you remember the way he looked at you that night: distressed beyond belief, giving you soft orders, insisting on help everywhere â the car, the shower, the bed.
But also because you know him.
And you donât think you needed to see him in those very moments to know he mustâve brushed through his silky hair. Mustâve looked through your room, gaze stopping over your sleeping figure.
Voice strained on the phone, yawning, shaking his head because he must have been a little mad at you, but comforted that you were resting, too.
You remember the tone of his voice, soft as a piano tune but saddened nonetheless.
âWhat did you drink? Youâre⊠in such a bad state.â
You shake the words off. God, he was there for you more than youâll ever know.
You say, âThatâs nice, though, Tae⊠I didnât think youâd ever get so worried about me.â
âHey. Youâre still my friend,â he promises.
Heâs possibly been the only person throughout this entire ordeal to not be pissed at you or annoyed by you. You never doubted that he still liked you.
âI might not know you inside out like Eun or Jungkook do, but youâre part of this group. So naturally, youâre important, too.â
You push your hands into the pockets of the blazer, gripping the car keys inside. Bashfully, you smile. His sincerity pumps warmth through you; itâs crazy how good belonging somewhere, to someone, can actually feel.
Itâs refreshing. New.Â
âWow,â you murmur, shuffling your feet, âthank you.â
âYouâre glowing, you know. Thatâs nice.â
âAm I?â
He nods. âI canât wait to see him glow either. A couple weeks were a couple too long.â
Those couple weeks felt like someone ripped out the hands of time, keeping them from moving. Your brain aged faster in that time, deep in a bottomless abyss. You donât want to experience it again.
And you donât want to imagine Jungkook in the same pit again. Looking for you, but bumping against walls, painted with his past that made him stumble back instead of pulling him forwards.
Your eyes trail down the hallway, looking at the small paintings and decorations on the wall. You take in the furniture, inhale the pleasant colours. Imagine his living room in its entirety, the sunlight seeping through the windows. Curtains pushed aside.
Your apartment could be like this, too.
But.
âTae,â you begin. You wrap your fingers around your rattling car key; lick your lips. âDo you think Iâd like it here?â
âHmmm,â he voices, gazing down as if he could look past the parquet floor and to where your potential apartment stands nearly empty. âYeah. I mean, I like to think so, because Iâm very happy here.â
He stops abruptly, the tone of the last syllable not matching a sentenceâs end. You wait as he smiles a little, creating a thought, âBut you could be happy somewhere else, too. Happier even.â
His words hang in the air, a sense of both possibility and uncertainty tangible. You were wanting to venture into this new chapter of your life with hope, but also with trepidation.
Suburban areas are nice, but you opted for the heart of the city â the vibrant tapestry of dreams and opportunities. You didnât expect the journey to be fraught with sudden doubts.
The best thing, however, is that doubts and dilemmas never seemed this⊠tempting.
You tell him, âThereâs always a place that makes people happier, for everyone.â
âYeah,â he said, voice tinged with wisdom. âOnly, some people already know of it, and some keep searching for it.â
âAnd I amââ
You pause, anticipating for him to finish the sentence; he responds, âYou gotta know.â Thereâs a playful twinkle in his eyes, support and acknowledgment hiding right behind â matching his words, âIâd be bummed if you didnât become my neighbour, but. Also just happy you guys are happy.â
Too kind for this world.
In your endearment, you laugh, suddenly stepping forward for a brief, thankful hug. A silent gesture of gratitude for his friendship, no matter how shallow or new.
The people you surround yourself with offer endless reassurance, and youâre lacking the words to express your appreciation.
âThank you, Tae. Eunâs right when she praises your constant respect for other people, you know?â
Taehyung, maybe a little perplexed, brings a hand to your back, patting gently as he states, âNo worries. The worst is over.â
You hope so. God, you genuinely hope so.
You pull back, tucking your hair behind your ear and bid him goodbye with one last nod. Taehyung closes the door behind you with a humorous thumbs up, and you grin before itâs silent in the hallway again.
Thereâs a tiny window outside, overlooking the street down there and the cars flitting by. The area isnât as peaceful as Jungkookâs â more lively and noisy. You can see the cityâs river if you look far enough.
And as you step closer to the glass, you envision your own apartment again. You imagine the soft glow of the lamp before you go to sleep. The comfortable couch you want to plant in the back of the living room, curling up with work or your laptop or a cup of hot chocolate.
You picture the view of the city as you step to your open window, glancing out as the steam of your beverage swirls in the evening air. Contemplating the world outside.
But then you start rethinking Jungkookâs words, too. The idea of belonging and happiness, of domesticity and what could be.
And at last, you visualise what itâd be like if you didnât see any of this â the lively street, the river in the distance. Wonder how youâd feel if the horizon looked different.
If you stared out and saw a different canvas instead.
The changes in your life are drastic in some way, but Jungkook always stays the same.
Your house lies quiet most of the time; as days pass, you frequent your room, then drop by in the living room, greeting the staff, grabbing dinner and retracting back to your beloved bed.
Jungkookâs apartment, baby-sized compared to your place, allows a much livelier atmosphere. Maybe because you donât need to yell for him to hear you from another room. Or maybe because itâs just the two of you.
Perhaps even because you find solace in the couch, in the smaller smart TV in front of it, the glass table, the carpet, the homely furniture in general. The scent reminds you of wood, but you connect it with him, too.
Itâs different from the room you grew up in. Different from the luxurious chimney and marble youâve seen all your life. And you must admit that you enjoy it a lot more, too.
One of the few reasons why your mood changes from exhausted to merry the moment you knock at his door on Thursday. He was expecting you, because when he opens, he beckons you inside immediately, pulling you in and planting a generous kiss on your cheek.
A smooching sound accompanies it, his foot closing the door as he suggests, âDinner first or TV?â
âShoes.â You laugh. You slip out of your thin jacket before tackling your snickers quickly, your clothes suddenly itchy and uncomfortable. âShoes first, and then shower? Can I?â
âYeah, of course.â
Itâs not the first time that youâd be doing it. But thereâs still something new and pure about this new chapter of your life; one that comes with polite questions and reinventing reality, apparently.
Redrafting life as you knew it and striving towards something better.
âI knew it, actually,â he says, forefinger wiggling, âI put a fresh towel on the washing machine. Also had a handful of your shirts here, so thereâs one of those on the towel, too. And my joggers⊠Sorry, you left none of those, uhmââ
Heâs started walking ahead, scratching behind his ear, but when he notices you not following, he looks over his shoulder. Blinks at you, staring into his living room and back, innocent voice unsure, âCome?â
âYeah. Yeah, justâ you didnât have tââ
âI know,â he interrupts, breathing a sigh in faux frustration, âI know I never have to. But I figured youâd wanna shower.â
ââŠThank you, Kook.â
You wish you could say more; express your gratitude the way you want to. At least your body is jubilating, craving the hot steam of the shower. Starving further for some peace when you step into the bathroom and detect the neatly placed clothing.
Jungkook halts at the door, gripping its frame, a little shy as if you didnât breathe each other in for the last couple of weeks and months. Heâs looking at you, waiting for something, and when you raise an eyebrow in curiosity, he snaps out of whatever daydream he was in.
âOh. Right,â he mumbles, cheeks flushed, âsorry. Iâll leave. Can heat up the food. Or, or do you wanna order in?â
âAnythingâs fine.â He nods. Opts to walk away, big hand flattening his hair at the back. It takes a moment for your heart to riot as you watch him leave, immediately babbling, âActually. I wasââ
Returning within a moment, he looks alarmed. Less so when you point a thumb to the shower and suggest, âDo you wanna join?â
âYou in the shower?â
No, doofus. Join to watch the washing machine unsoil your sweaty clothes.
You clear your throat. âYeah?â
âI uhm⊠Is that okay?â
Goddamn. Redrafting life as you knew it, you said.
You just didnât expect the two of you to still tip-toe around each other. Seems you still have a lot of adjusting to do.
You try to break the ice.
âActing like Iâve never seen you naked.â
âNo, I know,â he responds, âI was just thinking that youâŠâ
You canât quite decrypt what heâs trying to say, but you do perceive the flash of concern in his eyes. Itâs a tiny glimpse, barely there; but you see it. And you think about it.
Try to understand, let moments pass â until youâve grasped his thinking.
The night he helped you clean up was the last time you stood under a showerhead together; maybe he thinks youâre still connecting it to the nightâs trauma or borderline dangerous intoxication. And perhaps youâre wrong.
But you still take a breath, and then segue, âAlready took a shower, didnât you?â
You know he did. Heâs addicted to cleanliness, sensitive to scents; he hoards diffusers, skin care products and new underwear like a treasure. And showering is always the first thing he goes for, a beeline to the bathroom after work out sessions and intense summer days.
You follow up with, âItâs okay, if you did. Iâll just go alone and hurry to dinner, then?â
âNo, no⊠No, itâs fine.â He starts his sentence fast, but slows down halfway through, awkwardly. âOf course I can join. Whatâs some extra refreshment, right?â
âThatâs the reason, huh?â you mock, laughing when he shrugs his shoulder. âKeep acting like youâre not the biggest simp around.â
Your confidence boosts his own, too. The signature smile is soft, lips curved gorgeously, but the subtone of his words is teasing, and even a little cocky.
âOf course. I know, I know.â
âCome then.â
You offer a stretched hand, curling your fingers in and outwards, and he places his warm palm into it like a key to a lock. Albeit tense and nervous, your body feels good next to his. The telltale awkward signs of a new relationship donât deter you from indulging in its sweetness.
So youâre not surprised at how quickly you undress, throwing each otherâs clothes at the back of the washing machine and planting kisses whenever one of you bares their shoulder. Eyeing each other from bottom to top.
You think you ogle for a moment too long, though â and how could you not with the freaking silver chain dangling from his neck?
An exciting evening lies ahead, you can already tell.
Itâs fresher now outside, and all of Jungkookâs windows are open. Despite the cosiness of the bathroom, you rush under the hot shower stream.
Only, itâs not as boiling as youâd like it to be. Jungkook starts and finishes his showers ice cold, so you screech when you meet water from the Antarctic. You jump on your spot, arms around your torso.
And when you allow yourself one single glance at him amidst the breathlessness, you notice that the asshole is doing it on purpose. Same old. Rouses core memories.
Jungkook wipes over your hair and your face, drenching them thoroughly. You only realise heâs smudged your mascara when he starts rubbing underneath your eyes gently, managing to get some of it off.
âFuck,â you curse, âI forgot about that. Should I take it off first?â
The intention is to slip out, use one of his cleansing skin products and get the mess out of your face before stepping back to him. But you donât make it far anyway; he yanks you back before your foot can even touch the mat.
And then, the moment passes in a blur.
Tense body back against his, he tugs you close. Holds both your wrists in front of your breasts, leaning in without a warning, and then â connects his dripping lips with yours.
If there was any space to gasp, you would. Instead, your fingers instantly dig into your hand, sharp nails scarring the skin. You move your fists, trying to touch him, but he holds you in place firmly.
That is, until his digits relax, trailing up your shoulder to your neck, jaw and then to your cheeks. Face in your grip, you let him control the pace. You find an anchor in his bicep, holding on; kissing isnât enough.
You wish he could eat you up. Wish the tongue finally touching yours, swirling around it, was everywhere on your skin at once.
You feel a slight twitch underneath, right against your body; ready to devour, hopefully soon to explode. But Jungkook gasps for air when his lungs give out, allowing a break, backing away with your face still between his hands.
And then, he utters something surprising â something you didnât expect in the heat of the moment at all.
âI was meaning to tell you something.â
ââŠOh?â
âIâm uh. Iâve been meaning to tell you for days. I just never quite got around to it and we were so busy and tired all the time andââ
âWhat is it?â you break in, heart pounding at an unnatural speed. âIâm here now, soâŠ?â
For a second, you expect this to take a whole different turn.
The database in your brain empties the moment you scour it for an answer, preparing yourself for molten knees and dissolving hearts. Or maybe, itâs already clarifying to liquid, jumping out of your chest and flowing down the drain along with the water.
But he doesnât say what you anticipate. Though, what he does admit has your nerves glowing neon white anyway.
âSoâ the first night of my showcase. On my birthday?â he starts. You feel the muscles of your face change, and he sees it, immediately assuring, âNo, no. Donât worry. I was just gonna say that a guy came to me by the end of it? AndââÂ
He lets all of it sound like an unsure question. But you think you know where itâs going â you hold your breath under the already suffocating water.
âAnd?â you prod.
âAnd turned out Namjoon invited him, and heâs kiiiinda a big shot in the art business? Like, heâs a gallery collector, he said. Heâd invest in my art and acquire it and have it showcased in bigger museums for more recogniâ I know!â
Your mouth and eyes opened halfway through his quick explanation, fingers back in fists, pressing against his solid chest and then moving up to hook in his silver chain. Youâre restless in the congested space, suppressing the high pitched sounds.
He puts his hands on your hips, snickering in joy as he says, âBe careful before you slip.â
âYouâre kidding!â
âThankfully Iâm not, angel,â he shakes his head, bangs sticking to his forehead, ânot this time, at least.â
You raise a hand to his pec, tapping against it, âWait. So just so I understood correctly â theyâre gonna put up your stuff there for an even bigger audience to see, yeah?â
âI mean, the gallery is definitely far bigger than the exhibition I participated in.â
âOh my god, Jungkook, the exhibition already had a shit ton of visitors!â
He nods, proving a point.
You feel an electric current in your blood. Pride, thatâs what itâs called, too. You sling your arms around his neck recklessly, nearly falling, but you canât be bothered as you exclaim, âThis is soâ I donât even know how to react, Kook!â
And who could convince a big-shot art connoisseur so quickly after graduation anyway? Jungkookâs god given talents are never praised for nothing â you knew it. Fucking knew it.
Wonât make it anywhere, your ass.
âThatâs so fucking awesome.â You stare, out of breath all of a sudden. God, if there was a way to express your delight. âWhen is it happening? Are you selling the one you showcased?â
âI donât know yet. And no. Thatâs too⊠personal to me.â You blink, nodding. Still overwhelmed with how his pieces made you feel â of course theyâd hit even harder for the artist himself. âHe wants something in a similar style, though. Iâll make something new for him.â
âWhatâs it gonna be?â
Itâs a simple question. You swear itâs nothing too deep.
But Jungkookâs gaze changes. An amused, delighted expression replaces a neutral one, head tilting to the side just a little. His lips, already slightly swollen from the kiss, move up, eyes kind and sugary.
If you only knew how your small details affect him, too. How you looking at him like this, expectant eyes split wide, innocent and gentle, shoots an arrow to his heart.
You just donât know.
He brushes the hair sticking to your cheek back and tells you, âYouâll see. Iâve been working on it these days, but. Will show it to you when itâs done.â
You canât even be mad. If it was up to you, youâd probably wait for the big day, too â canât spoil the surprise, need to cry tears of pride and joy in public.
So all you say, deep from the heart, is, âYouâre the fucking coolest person I know.â
âNahââ
âThe coolest.â
âFunny,â he retorts, as bad at compliments as you; throws them back like a boomerang, âthought the same when I met you at the party last year.â
ââŠGross.â Thatâs what you say. But you still shake your head; overwhelmed, smile plastered to your face and cheeks hurting. âGod, Kook.â
And thatâs all.
You keep holding his stare, finally too tired of the distance to endure any longer â and then lean in. You stop a couple inches away, watch his head angle more, mouth steering towards yours. The smile is mutual, fingers seeking a spot to settle on on each otherâs bodies.
Your heart monitor would be wilding right now â the effect of your lips meeting clear as day behind your ribs. And this time, you donât stop.
The push against his chest is immediate, his feet slowly tumbling backwards. His tongue burns hot against yours, your lower lip fitting perfectly in the gap between his lips. Thereâs a sharp hiss when his back finally touches the tiles, mouth open but not leaving yours.
Teeth soon clash, and you opt for more of his taste, well aware that you just cannot kiss more than you already are. His hands move up and down, never settling, both your lips harsh and impatient. Your tongues keep moving in patterns, thirst never quenched.
You break the kiss solely for oxygen purposes, but he uses the moment to let his palm wander from your face to your hair, grabbing a patch. One hand pushes against the small of your back, though soon dropping to your ass, fingers between your ass cheeks, teasing the clenching hole.
Fuck.
The moan isnât intended, but very welcome â you love the sound of it as much as he does, followed by his own. An automatic reaction. His hips indulge in the tiniest movements, length jerking against your body; no more than an inch of his fingertip pushing into your ass.
âFuck, Jungkook,â you breathe, eyebrows furrowing, mewling against the corner of his lips. âMore, now, please.â
Itâs an attempt. Of course he wonât act that fast â you know him well enough. Heâs been a soft gentleman often enough; but after holding back the past few days, missing it for weeks, you know it won't be easy on him either.
One of you will be on the brink of tears soon; until now, itâs usually been you.
You take a deep breath, agitated when he laughs. He retracts his hand, smoothing back his chaotic mane before leaning in for another peck. And thatâs all it remains â interrupted immediately, saliva mixing with the shower water.
âIâm so fucking crazy for you,â he confesses; the shiver doesnât hesitate crawling down your spine â neither does Jungkook, peppering your neck with kisses.
His actions are smooth â you let him do anything. Like, explore every little spot of your skin. From the softness of your face, down to the flesh of your ass, echoing hard when a flat hand slaps it out of nowhere.
You propel forwards, barely aware of your surroundings. The shower raining onto you is the only indicator of where you still are.
So when he turns you carefully, 180 until your back touches the tiles, you donât realise his intentions for a moment. Only when he changes his approach, digging your shoulders hard into the wall, knocking you out of breath.
âAre you trying toââ you ask, but he interjects right away.
âDonât question it this time, okay?â His face inches close again, teeth suddenly pulling and nibbling at your lip. âJust let us do. Lemme do, yeah?â
His chest presses against your tits before he backs away and palms your mounds, squeezing nearly painfully.
For only a heartbeat, though â he doesnât stall further. Because another second passes before youâre turned in his grip, chest not touching his anymore, but the wall now. From behind you, he grasps your hips, dragging you back just a couple inches; enough to sneak his hand through.
âBut whenever things get too much, youâŠâ
You nod. Promise, âWill tell you. I will.â
âGood.â His cock pokes between your ass, and he spreads its cheeks. Lets the hardness rest between them, sliding up and down. âGonna make you feel so good, though. Wanna make you feel so fucking good.â
Wow⊠wow, fâ
Not that you were ever interested in it before, butâŠ
Part of you wants him to shove it in anywhere. Wherever the fuck he wants. Youâd endure all hour-long foreplay and pleas and tears for him.
And perhaps heâs thinking the same. Perhaps you even spoke it out loud â you wouldnât be surprised if you did. But you choke on your spit when he says, âMissing the sex toys. Like⊠What do you think of new ones, hm? Someday, maybe. Likeâ like an anal plââ
âPlease,â you beg, âIâll do fucking anything for you.â
Break in conversation. Then, âHoly shit.â He chuckles. Fuck â his voice is deeper now, isnât it? âYouâre being whiny. I thought youâre a badass business woman, but youâre so whiny.â
âBecauseâ I can breathe when I work.â
âOhh. And now,â he whispers, close to your ear, hand moving. Up and further up, stopping around your throat, as if heâs testing your statement. As if he could tell him anything about the state of your lungs. âNow weâre not as focused, right?â
âNo thinking when I suck your dick.â
âDammit. Really donât wanna wait to fuck you numb.â
Youâre shamelessly jittery, patience out the window. âDonât then. Get to it now.â
âNope. I know youâre not ready yet. And Iâm not either⊠soââ
He steps closer, forcing your body further forward until your cheek is squished against the wall. His fingers leave your throat to find another target; something far more south, a lot more dangerous.
One small circle drawn around your clit, you gasp, hearing him ask, âYou think you can come with just my fingers?â
âI donât know. I honestly think I needââ
He chuckles, and you canât help but laugh, too. Youâre hilarious sometimes.
âYou think youâre so smart. But we can still try, though.â He says it casually, as if the two of you donât exactly know that heâs perfectly capable of pulling through. But his voice still softens when you donât answer, âHey. You wanna try, sweetheart?â
âYes. Anything,â you convince him, âanything, Kook.â
âGood girl. The best, always.â
His touch vanishes. You let out a mildly confused sound, observing with an unfocused vision how he opens the shower door a little. He reaches for the towel on the washing machine, drying his fingers, other hand moving the shower head until itâs mostly wetting his own back.
Itâs a tiny detail, really. You only told him once how action around the clit might become uncomfortable with hands priorly washed or wet, and it seems he remembered.
Your eyes shut when he returns to your bundle of nerves, massaging gently, skilled. It starts slow at first; you feel the hot wetness build in and around your entrance, the line between the shower water and your arousal fading.
Jungkookâs movements, calculated and systematic, only spur your body on. Heâs always known what heâs doing; has analysed and explored what you want. How you want it.
Itâs true heaven to you: the way he kisses your cheek. The way he draws moans out of you, the motions around your swollen bud rhythmic. Your back and limbs tingle; you donât know what to do with yourself.
And when you canât stand still anymore, Jungkook orders, âStop that. Youâll break my jaw.â
âSorry.â
Your apology is timid, tiny; he laughs. âYou cutie⊠youâre adorable even in moments like these.â
You throw your head against his shoulder as if to oppose him, opening your eyes, looking straight into his eyes. Your eyebrows are kissing, tension between them, mouth agape.
And he adds, âOr maybe not.â
He lifts you up a bit, dragging your body along the wall â you didnât even notice that you slid down this much, angled, ass darting out like this. But you also donât mind the arm that rounds your torso, just underneath your tits, keeping you steady when he takes it up a notch andâ
âOh my god,â you squeak when he pushes two fingers in. âYes, yes, pleaseââ
The incoherent, random requests are his favourite. Most of the time, he knows better than you what youâre pleading for. Which is why he doesnât stop this time; probably more in the mood to please you than tease you.
From this position, he canât reach knuckles deep, but just enough to brush the walnutty spot inside. And to your surprise, the orgasm builds up fast; the first quiver takes over your knees, but you understand that this is nothing compared to whatâs to come.
You press your hands to the wall, holding onto remnants of your sanity when he kisses your neck, and along your damp shoulders. His mouth is hot against your pulse, wet hair tickling under your jaw. He bites lightly; soothes the fleeting sting with his tongue. Vampiristic.
Like a sensual massage, well thought out, pornographic.
And then he picks up on pace. Whispers, âThatâs rightâ we got thisââ
He starts pumping into you; relishes your incomprehensible curses. The thumb over your clit and the impatience of his fingers inside are a dichotomy, and you donât know what to focus on. Which is why you stop thinking altogether.
Jungkook takes a sharp breath, quiet whistling sounds included, and then groans into your ear when you do. He keeps his motions up diligently, fingers a bit deeper with each time your ass moves back an inch.
As an aid, he shifts his arm, too, pushing forward, palm pressing against your clit now.
And when you come, you melt. Nearly collapsing, you keep moving, on edge, every spot of your body in tremor. You can barely breathe; youâve been nestled in the heat of the shower for way too long.
He notices your tremble in an instant, encourages, âGot it. Got you. Keep going, baby, câmon.â
The peak is blissful; you donât want to ever fall off the edge again. Want to remain in this starry, gorgeous ache. Your eyes could stay in the back of your head; the world may keep fading. And you donât need to know where you are.
All you know is that your voice sounds odd, high when you pant, âDonât go away yet.â
âIâm right here. Right here, got you,â he repeats, holding you upright.
Jungkook knows â knows how to get you from lowest lows to your highest highs. Today was as pleasant as a day at work can be; but if heâs ready to do all this to you on any other, worse day, too, you might never encounter grief again.
He scatters kisses all over your jaw when youâre done â busies himself as you catch your breath, swallowing, eyes closed. Once youâve caught yourself enough to utter fragments of sentences at least, you tell him, âSomething not human about you, Jeon.â
âOh. Are we back to surnames now?â He cackles, soothing motions along your arms. âAre we gonna shake hands, too, once weâre done? Bow and say thank you?â
You shake your head, though the stupid smile doesnât wait to spread on your face.
âYouâre dumb,â you say.
âYou make me dumb.â
He drops his touch, brushing your pussy again â maybe as a test. But youâre sensitive and vulnerable, closing your legs and opening your mouth in response. Heâs sly; uses the moment to push two fingers in right away, pressing your tongue down.
And you, as challenge-accepting as ever, start sucking, tasting some of yourself. You wrap your hand around his, moving your head, chest still heaving from the exhaustion. Your eyes close slowly enough for him to see them roll back, a reaction to the images your brain creates.
Like, the thought of the member currently poking you replacing those digits. The prospect of emptying him entirely.
âFuuuuckâ wish my brain could take a picture of this and save it forever,â he says, voice strained.
You open your mouth, licking a strip along his finger, past the tattoo. âWhatâd you do with it?â
âWould⊠would bring it to the forefront of my mind,â Jungkook begins, reclaiming his hand and dragging it down to your waist, âand use it whenever youâre away.â
âHmmm⊠and then?â
âWould justâŠâ
He doesnât continue. Only shakes his head, lifting his shoulders, stance desperate and wanting; maybe heâs even a little out of his mind.
You egg him on, âShow me if you canât say it.â
Itâs a surprise that he obliges, but then again, itâs not. You always forget just how weak he is â that his heart sits right there in your palms, his body a magnet to yours.
So youâre endlessly pleased when your eyes flit down to a hand around his dick. Stroking slowly, its head hard against your pelvis. And you manage to watch a tiny second longer until the floor beckons you towards it, down to your knees.
Itâs uncomfortable immediately; slick and odd. But youâre distracted by your dry tongue, thirsting, ridiculously hypnotised by the cock dangling in front of you. And then his thighs⊠muscular and thick. You reach out to them, holding them, steering forwards.
Despite his delicate frailty, you donât fare any better. Ready to bruise your knees like an obedient doll, eyes wide when you look up at him. You grip him softly, urging him to remove his hand, stroking in his stead.
You pass all pleasantries and hesitations, and dive in immediately â leading your mouth to the tip before wrapping your lips around it delicately. Determined, you let only a second pass, eager as you start moving right away.
Bobbing your head, you take him in as much as your gag reflex allows. Heâs too big â itâs impossible to ever swallow him fully. But no matter how greedy you are, thatâs it.
You donât give into it all the way just yet.
Instead, you back away after another lick. Straighten your body, drawing in and repositioning until you can push your tits together around the stiffness.
His groan tumbles out of him broken, choked, a hand against the wall. His abs are rippling, bicep bulged, nipples tiny and perked. Dark brown. Eyes hazy.
You want to do so many fucking things to him â want to mount him. Pull his head back by his long strands. Want, need to kiss him, rub yourself on him, back and forth along his cock until his moans become uncontrolled. Sticky white cum sprayed over his tummy.
Your nails in your skin, yearning for more â thatâs one of your billion thoughts.
Instead, you summarise your wants, whispering a single, simple, fucked out, âIâŠâ You gulp down the knot. Shiver at your position, craving the hot water a little now. Then command, âFuck my mouth.â
His eyes threaten to fall out of his head; like they always do. He knows itâs a constant reaction, too, it seems, because âGod. Iâll never get used to you saying this.â
âYou better, though.â
âRight. RightâŠâ
He caresses your face, pushes your hair back. Perhaps heâs had enough of the pace; because he soon reaches for your arms, compliant deer kicked out of his head as he forces your wrists up and crosses them against the wall.
One hand is all he needs to hold them in their place. One hand gripping them hard, disabling any movement of your arms.
You let out a strange, obscene sound, finding utter liking in this gesture.
But despite your pleasure, he still eases you into the process, the heart tattoo grazing your cheek. A touch so soft that you think heâs praising you, wordlessly and gently. Making sure youâre absolutely okay with whatever he does to you.
And you confirm it with another blink, stretching out your tongue, ready. Holding his gaze. Mesmerised and frustrated, he says, âYouâll kill me with the way you look at me.â
Jungkook fuels your confidence with vigour each time, eloquent through scorching heat, too. Because you donât think youâve ever smiled this self-assured before you knew him; or been certain about your power over others.
You used to be far more insecure than that, feigning ignorance and carelessness, but reevaluating your decisions every step of the way. Months ago, you couldâve never predicted such a shift in conviction towards yourself.
So itâs new to you, but invigorating at the same time, the grin you sport, the words you utter, âKilling you isnât my intention,â when he doesnât, you move your head towards the leaking head of his cock, awaiting destruction, âwanna make you feel more alive than ever.â
The breath tumbling out of his mouth is ragged, pinky finger twitching a tiny bit when you wrap your lips around the tip and then let it go with a plop again; like itâs a lollipop to you.
Your knees move closer to his feet, and he stretches his one hand to your shoulder, making sure you donât get hurt on the slippery ground. But youâre far too distracted to appreciate the gesture just yet, even though you feel the faint tickling along your limbs.
âI got it,â Jungkook then says, back in charge, hands back on the protruding, thick veins.
He moves his hips forward, testing. You roll out your tongue once more, closing your eyes. Try to make more room in your mouth, despite knowing itâs a thing of impossibility. And to your chagrin, it takes only a few more seconds for you to be full already.
Taking in as much as your throat allows, you gag when you reach your limit, letting out a tiny cough, salivating. You still canât move your arms; his fingers are like chains around your wrists.
âThat enough?â he asks. âIâll stop here, okay?â
You nod. Wait. When he doesnât move, you start pulling back, and then push forward again immediately. Your tongue is drenched in absolute filth; the spit trails down your chin, and you wish it was his.
But thatâs not the point of it all â youâre not supposed to comfortably bop your head back and forth, are you? Despite the daily softness between the two of you, you want to be used. Want all his greed.
And he knows. Asks, âWhat do you need?â
Of course you canât speak. Heâs aware of that; stares down at you as you breathe heavily around him, mouth stuffed to the brim. Cheeks aching from the circumference.
You moan around him, parting your lips, moving your tongue from under his dick to swirl it around it a little. You move back, tasting the liquid minimally dripping out of his slit. Fuck, you want all of it, in thick, sickening ropes, in loads and buckets.
âWonât even back away to speak,â he teases, words contradictory, because he wonât allow you to take a break either. Shoves himself inside again; youâre embarrassed that you only manage half of his length. âThe dedication is hotter than it should beââ
Full, coherent sentences. How?
But even his string of thought breaks when he starts in earnest. Filling up your mouth once more, as much as he can and then a bit more for good measure. You adjust to his movements, suck down immediately.
You donât care about the loss of voice later; you want to eat him up entirely.
His strokes grow harder by the second, rock hard inside you. You move your head until the head pokes against the inside of your cheek, and the tight wetness affects him, his knees buckling by one single inch.
âEasyâŠâ he whispers, shaking his head, water drops landing on your face. âFuck. Wanna have you hanging off the bed one day. Wanna see my cock ram your throatâŠâ
Easy, he said. Heâs definitely not being easy on you, though. Not with these admissions. Not with his motions.
The thrusts arenât just hard, but deliberate and controlled, too. Your head keeps pushing back, lightly touching the wall. Youâre far over sucking his dick, way too obedient and submissive to define it like that.
No, youâre being fucked. Gagging and choking around him, sucking in the spit whenever only his tip remains inside, sounds lewd and specific. Coming from the back of your throat, wet, hot and bothered.
God, you wish you were strong enough to take him all the way down to the base, licking at his balls, feeling his twitching dick thumping at the very far back. But you guess this is more than enough for him, too.
Because he holds your wrists harder, a rope around them, digging into your skin. The free hand wipes your hair away again, your body sweat-soaked while the shower water still trickles down his back.
He holds you there; then reaches for your nipple; pinches it hard over your heavily heaving chest, pleased when you open your eyes and look up at him. Waterline damp â the dangling chain might just be one of the reasons for that.
âBit more,â he mumbles, and you think heâll surrender right there, inside your mouth.
Which is why you sit up straighter, more determined, licking at the underside of his cock when he drags it out a little. His balls hang in your face and you reach for them, tongueing, hungry, not wanting him to move away now.
He doesnât. Not yet. Relief courses through you, swallowing around his thickness again. Rolling your eyes back, hearing subtle âDoing well, so well, angelâs, ignoring the pain in your arms as he holds them upright.
You hollow your cheeks when he buries himself in deep, struggling when he stops right there. He doesnât move; your eyes well up harder. All air enters and escapes through your nose, and youâre shaking, holding his stare as he keeps his cock in place, absolutely still.
That is, until you can barely breathe anymore, nails digging into your palms, arms trying to escape. He doesnât say a word yet, only lets your hands drop. Your shoulders crack a bit, and you shake your arms, filling up your lungs, your palms next to his feet.
His cock is covered in your spit when you look again; your gaping mouth and chin similarly drenched.
And only when your head stops spinning, does he hold his hands towards you, urging you to take them as he says, âSorry, baby. You did so well, IâŠâ
You grip his fingers feebly, getting up on weak knees. Instead of holding onto your hands, he soon wraps an arm around your body, pulling you up before he asks, âLess next time?â
âNo,â the word comes out as a squeak, throat already affected, âIâll always tap if I feel itâs too much. I promiâ promise.â
âGood,â he praises, a kiss to your damp forehead. He turns the water off. âThatâs all I want, baby. Look at me.â
Youâre already exhausted, staring down, fatigue fuelled by the hot water. Your eyes flutter open as you meet his gaze, and he puts a hand to your cheek, thumb on your swollen lower lip.
âYouâre so gorgeous,â he compliments; his hand must be heating up under your touch, âdid you know? So sweet and stunning. It makes me sick.â
âThought I was the only one. YouâŠâ He looks at you, and you hold him tight, smiling about your joke in advance. âYou have such an effect on me, it makes me wanna throw up.â
Right. So in love, it makes your stomach turn.
âPlease donât,â he pleads, conjuring a tender eye smile. The wide grin is unreal. âAnd letâs get out of here. We canât keep standing here.â
âWaste of water.â
âYes, waste of water. That, too. And I should have some lube in the bedroom.â
Of course heâs as impatient as you â although youâre almost a hundred percent sure you could do without that stuff easily. The insides of your thighs are slippery, and youâre certain the shower wasnât the sole reason for that.
Your legs feel weird, your body heavy when you finally get out. The cosy bathroom is filled with steam and heat, but at least you can breathe easier here than under the piping hot water.
The mirror is fogged up; you glance into it to check your state, but recognise nothing but your vague form. You wipe a stripe the size of your hand along it as you walk past, halting at the door. And when you look back, Jungkook is making quick, brief work on picking up the clothes you haphazardly threw to the side before.
âYou donât wanna do this later?â you ask, still fond.
Itâs just him cleaning up the floor, but⊠you enjoy watching him do mundane things. You might never be able to explain why, but you do.
âJust throwing them into the washing machine. Will turn it on later,â he answers.
He straightens his body with a sigh when heâs done, sniffling as he usually does. His eyes are hidden behind his long hair, so he lifts both his hands to brush the soaked tresses back. The muscles of his arms are mountainous and firm. Tattoos ending at his shoulder.
Heâs indescribably pretty like that. Looking up, lips parted, jaw chiselled.
You observe him for a bit longer, gaze trailing down his body. Small nipples, broad and sculpted pecs, six painfully visible rectangles of abs. Cock still mostly awake.
Fuck.
Crossing your legs, you bite your lips, one hand on the door handle. You take in the domesticity. The moment might be subtle and casual, but something about it is incredibly homely.
How you speak to each other, and how his washing machine is cleaning both your clothes. Itâs the little things, isnât it?
Your eyes are fond when you say, âWhenever it does happen⊠I can already imagine all of it clearly.â
âHm?â He blinks at you. âAll of what, baby?â
âOf being here with you. All the time.â His motions stop. He drops his arms, a strand falling back into his face, but he doesnât care. Glances at you for a couple seconds until you smile and nod towards the door. âLetâs go.â
But it seems he changed his mind in this split second that you turn to the exit.
Because all of a sudden, just as he did before, he tugs you back. And just like before, you land against the wall, having him staring at you as if heâs seeing you for the first time. His voice is a whisper, enchanting, âOkay⊠you know what. Forget it.â
âHuh?â
âFuck lube, okay?â His eyes are glued to your lips. Then to your pupils. He looks lost. âWe can manage. Donât need the bedroom⊠just you. Want you right now.â
âJungkoââ
You donât anticipate it â so it draws a small moan out of you when his fingers suddenly graze between your legs, digging in for just a moment. Fingering you for a split second as you gasp â and then they disappear again.
He moves in to kiss your cheek. Just a peck first. Then his lips open against your neck, hand moving up your body and pushing your tit up. His tongue soon joins the fun, darting through his parted lips, sucking your tits hard. Biting, groaning, moaning.
âJungkook.â You push your touch through his hair as he kisses his way further down, nibbling at your sides, and you whine, âDonât wanna wait, KookâŠâ
His eyes are closed and his voice hushed, raspy and deep as he says between kisses, âIâll be gone for a moment, baby. Youâll barely notice, I promise.â
Strange how he means distanced from your kiss, not from your body. Strange how you miss each other while in the same room, but not melted into each other.
Youâre losing your mind. Throwing your head back, ruining your hair against the tiles. Eyes droopy and hazy, mind turning in various directions as you relish each touch and peck. Your body relaxes; all the weight of the world off your shoulders.
Jungkook fondles your body, caresses all of you, planting kisses on your tummy, your waist, your pelvis. Continues to tug at the flesh of your thighs with his lips. It feels like a massage, not painful but gentle. Careful as he hoists up one of your legs, throwing it over his shoulder.Â
And then⊠he starts.
His tongue flashes out to your clit. Parts your folds. Itâs difficult from this position, but his pointy wet muscle paints patterns over your pussy. And you reel.
Jungkook truly is an artist. Knows to make you mewl, turns your breaths laboured. You move your hips, guiding his face closer with your hand in his hair, slowly riding it. The French kisses, the brush against your thighs⊠heâsâŠ
God.
âGod,â you echo, âI love this, Iââ
Heâs feasting. Letting out alluring sounds, spurring you on, and you almost topple over the edge. But Jungkook knows what heâs doing â leaves you yearning, moving away and up to you.
When he said heâd be gone for a moment, he truly meant it.
Your lip quivers when he looks at you, ordering a soft, âYouâll come together with me.â He raises your chin. âOkay? You and I together. Always.â
Must be a hidden message. Heâs not just talking about sex anymore, is he? But him and you in one bubble, separated from the world. Nothing but you, you and you.
You barely wait another second. Instead, you immediately lurch forwards, initiating a kiss beyond sinful from the start. Teeth clashing, tongues feral. For a couple seconds you breathe into each other, letting out odd noises, his hand pulling your leg back up again and pinning it against the wall.
Youâre on your tippy toes when his cock teases your entrance, his lips soon on your shoulder again. Cold chain brushing your skin. Heâs sucking harshly, guiding his dick inside with determination. Sheer impatience is palpable in his touch and audible in his sounds.
The head of his dick parts your folds, diving in; and you let out a moan so lustful that he grows downright desperate against your shoulder. Standing here like this is hard, too; so he puts his palms on your ass, commandsâ
âJump once.â
âWhat?â
âJump,â he repeats, âIâll hold you. Want you, please.â
âOkayâŠâ you mumble. You put your hands on his broad shoulder, readying yourself, âOkay.â
And then you do â immediately wrapping your legs around him. And he lets you fall slowly, body pressed against yours, so youâre sandwiched between him and the wall; so he can guide his hardness back to your cunt.
You drop onto it slowly, carefully. Impaling yourself on him, inch by inch penetrating your insides. The more you take in, the deeper the crease between your eyebrows. And when heâs bottomed out, you feel like⊠yourself again?
Because what moment is more intimate than this? What moment allows you to crawl out of your shell more than this?
Even if in a crude sense, this is yet another definition of home. And every definition can be traced back to him.
âYou feeling alright?â he asks, and you nod immediately.
âIs a bit weird, butâŠâ you hold onto him, one hand moving to his face. You donât finish your sentence; only nod, exhaling against his lips.
âCan I start?â
Another nod; and then he starts pumping in. Slowly in and out; youâre firmly in place against the wall, slipping just a little. His hands engulf your ass again â his strength is mind-numbing, and his sounds loud as he splits you in two.
Your eyes shut for a mini moment, and when they crack open again, theyâre met with the still mirror. Itâs fogging up again, yet still clear enough to make out Jungkookâs back; the form of his body. Your thoughts tangle up.
Youâve seen him shirtless a million times before, fully bare â but it might be the first time youâre enjoying this very perspective. And the entirety of him⊠leaves you gasping. Butt naked, ass muscles flexing, the triangle shaped back smooth. Where do his guts even fit?
Theyâre a blessing, those reflections, catching the way heâs standing, ramming into you. And then you, burying your nails into his shoulder blades, expression fucked out, body moving up and down the wall. Having things done to you by him.
Youâre so fucking lucky.
You mutter, âKookâŠâ
âYes, baby.â
âYou look so good⊠soâŠâ
âMmmh, you do, too,â the sentence starts in a clear tone, but morphs into a whisper, âjust⊠canât see enough of you⊠shit, babeââ
He leans in, parting your lips with his, your tongues touching as he delivers a rough jab just once. And thatâs when things stop working for you.
Because soon enough, youâre swaying to the side, nearly falling; as his protective instincts kick in, immediately holding you, his cock jumps out. And he shakes his head, pecking your temple once, and then deducts, âOkay. This wonât do.â
âHmmm,â you hum in agreement, weak on your legs, âbad idea for sure.â
âHold up.â
Heâs quick to turn you around, thoroughly in charge of your body tonight â youâre fully under his mercy. Ready to kneel and bend for him. And Jungkook, understanding your boundaries, gives you all you need â knows what to do, knows when to stop.
And you keep handing over control; more so when he pushes you over the sink, stating, âOkay. Looks easier.â A pause. âLooks so much fucking better, too.â
Wish you could see. Fuck, fuck, fuck, youâre tense.
He leans down to kiss your back. His dick pokes between your ass cheeks again, slipping down and further down until it makes itself home between your nether lips again.
It falls into it in one fell swoop, swiftly, as if itâs no effort at all â guess it never is.
And god, does the position feel heavenly.
Balls deep inside; the first angle that allows full unhinged, animalistic mode.
But he still starts out slow; with long strokes and a hand in your hair. You tumble backwards a little, urging him to move too, lifting your ass higher and pushing your legs together for maximal effect.
Allowing more tightness for him; more friction for you.
âI⊠missed fucking you so much,â he says between thrusts. âYou feel unreal.â
You guess you do. He does, too. Maybe the two of you need a reminder that this is all too real; perhaps a tantalising equivalent to a wake-up-pinch.
So you suggest, âFuck me harder, Kook.â
ïżœïżœïżœHmm⊠want that?â
âBeen waiting so fucking long.â
And while a lover of patience and anticipation â who is he to reject your wishes after the entire ordeal occurring in this room? The two of you have dragged out this moment plenty.
So he listens fast; soon using your neck as leverage as his inked fingers wrap it smoothly. Agreeing, âItâd be my literal pleasure, babe.â
God, heâs a dumbass â but you canât physically react. Too caught up in something else; storing the laughter and jokes for later.
Because he picks up on pace, not too much right away; but enough for his hips to slap against your ass. Enough for you to be catapulted forwards with a whine, cheek pressing to the glass.
You lift your hand, accidentally wiping again, but only manage a trail, hand sliding down. From behind, you hear a hoarse praise, âLooks so fucking hot,â he draws a sharp breath, nearly hissing, âI promise Iâll be careful, justâŠâ
He pulls at your hair. Shoves his cock inside rougher, face closer to you, lips to your cheek. Swallows hard enough for you to hear, and then, âTell me if itâs too much. Am careful until I canât be, baby.â
Until he loses control. He says it right before he drops all inhibitions and â goes feral.
You squint your eyes shut, calling out his name; the word echoes in the small room, and for just a second, you worry the neighbours might hear. And then right away, you stop caring again.
Because you want this man. Now and later and forever; want him like this, want him in any way. This isnât just sex to you â if thatâs what you wanted, youâd download an app like your freshman self used to.
No.
No matter how obscene, thereâs meaning in every one of your touches; in every stroke, in every word, in every single time you lose yourself in him.
Your stomach twists as he jackhammers into you; youâre craving proximity, craving all his attention. Want all of his emotions and touches raw and merciless. Want to see him.
Although, when your shut eyes open, you only see blurry forms in the mirror moving, him behind you. He squeezes your neck; you see that much before he slides it down your body, straight to your clit, no detours.
He pushes his knee up for a second, touching the edge of the sink and balancing on one leg, but drops it again soon. The white painted, stainless steel of the sink, previously cold on your tummy, burns against your skin now. A chafing feeling.
Jungkook draws more forms against your clit, but then retracts his hand; instead, squishing your tits, indecisive where to touch. But itâs the last move he makes before he straightens his body, palms on your ass until he spanks just once andâŠ
Pulls out again.
What?
âLook at me, sweetheart,â you register.
You pant, fingers clutching the sink and gulping down the tiredness before you manage a turn. Your eyes land on his dick first; itâs fully drenched in your arousal, so unbreakably stiff.
He whispers again, âLook at me,â but the moment you do, he doesnât withhold your stare for too long. Instead, his hands are back on your cheeks, drawing you close, seeking your lips. His never-satisfied thirst matches yours; you want to remain here and freeze time.
With your arms around his neck, he guides you towards the washing machine, pushing the clothes further aside. He helps you get on it, but you argue immediately, âThis could be dangerous, right? Shouldnât sit here, I think⊠might breakâŠâ
âItâll be okay,â he says, making himself comfortable between your legs, pushing them apart with his thighs. Two fingers hold your chin, lips ghosting over yours. âIs a cheap ass thing⊠want a new one anyway.â
You wonder if heâll say that about all the furniture heâll fuck you on. Because observing his eyes, you know that he will â will soil every inch of his apartment within, what you anticipate, a short period of time.
But unfortunately for the washing machine, youâre too weak to reject the offer.
So you hold him tight, jostling him closer to you as you ask, âYeah?â
âMhmmmm.â The word drowns in your moan when his cock glides back in; when will you ever get used to this? âDonât worry⊠wonât break as badly as we will.â
Well, fuck.
The ridges of his cock drag just right along your walls, the angle making your mouth water. Your cunt is burning; and he still dares to ask, âOkay like that?â
âMore than okay, Kook⊠more thanââ
He always screws you numb; barely ever lets you finish your sentences. Your moans have become a constant interruption, along with the goddamn things he says, âYour pussy is so good. So, so good.â
And then heâs back making out with you, sweatier than before. His body is enticingly warm, muscles working on you. Both his and your hair sticks to the nape of the neck or your back, and you hold onto him, keening against his lips.
Then, you lean back for a second, keyed up as fuck, propping up your body with your arms. Your palms press against the back of the machine, and he inches close to explore the bare skin of your torso. His chain skims your nipples, as if on purpose; and he kisses you here, there, everywhere.
Neck, clavicles, tits, jaw.
Perspiring without an end, all of this could be gross. But instead, you feel hyped up, sexy as never before. Dizzy at the sight of his golden skin, the small beads of sweat spreading on it.
It takes one or two more minutes of this insanity until things come to an eventual end. A glorious end, that is â filled with deep moans, squealed calls of names, unrhythmic thrusts that fasten for the finale.
âIâll come,â Jungkook states, and you shoot back up to him, holding his head against the mounds of your tits. He kisses between them, breathing irregular, words muffled, âGonna come so hard, what the fââ
And when he does, you lose all coherent thoughts immediately. Not that you could think before â but his uncontrolled exclaims already make you wish for a whole new round. Nevermind that your pussy is wrecked and beaten.
Vocal as ever, he finishes with deep shoves, slowing down with each second. His lips remain open between your collarbones, and you feel his eyebrows draw together. Thick strings of hot cum filling you up, your cunt tightens.
And somehow, after all this, he still finds the energy to sneak his hand between your bodies, blindly seeking your clit until he finds it. Familiar circles render you breathless, even though theyâre lazy â but picking up on intensity when he leans back, still breathing hard.
He looks absolutely done â still fucking the rest of him into you. But youâre moaning and groaning, and heâs far from giving up as he says, âCome with me, baby.â
Honestly, he doesnât need to tell you. Youâre already calling and blurting out random words, already limp. Wrapping your legs around his torso with the tiny remaining energy you have left, absolutely insane.
Jungkook kisses you one last time. And you let the build up in your lower tummy and pussy proceed; up and up and up to the peak â until he delivers one last stroke, cock already softening, finger on your nub diligent andâŠ
You milk his dick in its entirety. Your pussy clenches and unclenches. Random figures swim in your vision, flashy behind your eyelids. Limbs trembling, body a mess and fingers hooking into his chain, you only notice now that youâre repeatedly whispering his name.
Winding and crying. Trying not to tug too hard, to break the jewellery, but still urging him closer, closer.
Youâre shivering, surviving the vertigo, breathing stagnant. Trying to control it. Quivering like fucking crazy, not feeling your legs.
Also hating how his cum is dripping onto the damn washing machine. In your hazy mood, you laugh a little.
It takes a bit of time for the two of you to calm down, to dim the adrenaline in your nerves. Your chests rise and fall in unison, still clutching to the embrace. His skin is flushed, yours hot, skin tingling with the lingering heat of the passed passion.
And when he finally moves back, looking at you, you see half a dozen things in there. Satisfaction and vulnerability among them. Maybe even a hint of mischievousness, proud of whatever just happened; happy with the emotions it conjured.
Stars in his eyes. Contentment, composure and affection at last.
A pleasant stillness follows, the world outside the bathroom nonexistent. The aftermath of the steamy encounter lingers until you break the silence after all.
âWhen the hell,â you start, throat dry, âdid you get so broad?â
ââŠWhat?â
âYou just. You looked endless in the mirror. Youâre soââ
Amused, he displays a grin as sly as you adore. He tsks and then mocks, âStop drooling.â
âYou first.â
His chuckle is throaty; a result of the constant exclaims and the absolute dehydration. You give the two of you a moment to collect saliva on your tongue, to swallow and wet your cords.
Your fingers paint an invisible, light pattern on his skin; tracing his tattoos is one of your favourite things to do. You jest, âThatâs a good way to destress.â
He arches an eyebrow, then rolls his eyes â but the devotion towards you behind the gesture is irrefutable. It carries into his words, no matter how playfully mocking his tone or his sighs, âEverything for the princess.â
âSo,â you pause, lips curling into a soft smile. âIs this what Iâm gonna be getting for the rest of my life?â
You see it immediately. The explosion in his eyes; the burst of stars in the depths of his pupils. Clear as the night sky, fond and sweet and magical. Guess you spoke big words for sure.
ââŠThe rest of your life, huh?â he asks.
âNo?â
âIs that what you want?â
Ever-the-boomerang, you gauge his reaction, closing the distance between you. Lips barely apart, you throw back again, âDonât you?â
You donât need to glance through his ribs, lungs, blood and skin; you see the swelling around his heart. Emotions swimming in it in abundance. You see all of it right in his eyes.
And his voice proves it; delicate and quiet, âBaby⊠you make my heart drop to my stomach all the time. Do I not look at you like I want a rest of my life with you?â
Gosh. Youâre too weak for this.
âLook at me like that more often,â you answer, breathing against him, eyes dancing with delight, âmaybe Iâll believe you then.â
âHuh,â he makes, letting out an entertained huff, âbrat. Maybe later. Letâs get you cleaned up and dressed for now, alright?â
Right. You forgot youâre still here. Snapping back into reality is always a task.
Of course it is.
Because your world is a cocoon; you donât want to leave it just yet. And maybe, somewhere in the near future â you wonât have to anyway.
Jungkook and you donât waste minutes doing formalities tonight. No flickering candle flames; no organised set up of your table. You dim the lights, snatching a lamp from his bedroom and rely on it along with the TVâs brightness.
You filled your plates and stomachs with a dish heâs wanted to show you for a while. Itâs some special Jeon recipe â limited to him specifically, not his family. The brief cut in your relationship kept you from the meal, but watching him fiddle with the pots and cutlery was worth the wait after all.
Heâs still proud of it; youâre filled to the brim, sick to the core, but the noodle-Buldak-mayo-perilla-oil-combination introduced the night just perfectly.
Your body is limp against his after dinner, bloated. A mutual agreement concluded that watching a movie might be the easiest activity you could indulge in to further destress. So you cuddle up, eyes droopy as you wait for the Netflix logo and thump to subside.
You let the username float by, though unable to suppress your giggle. Your back shakes against him, his hand halting mid-air, remote control in it, and you comment, âLetjungcook7. Youâre such a dork.â
âWhy?â You look back, met with raised eyebrows and round eyes. âDo you not like it?â
âI love it. Donât you ever dare change it.â
He tuts, trademark smirk tilted; responds, âAnd donât you ever change your Sunny Baudelaire icon.â
âGod, sheâs an iconic baby,â you groan, enthusiastic; your hands gesture to the TV, Baudelaires nowhere in sight, âI will never shut up about this show.â
âThatâs why youâre not allowed to change it. Kinda cute how much you love it.â
âJungkook,â you tug at his unoccupied arm, placing his wrist and palm over your belly button, âwould you ever rewatch it with me?â
His hand rubs gently over your shirt, and then drops until his fingers are toying with your â his â joggerâs strings. âIâm a pro at rewatching. Iâm down.â
You whisper a dragged celebratory word, eyes back to the screen. Heâs scrolling through the genres fast, barely inhaling the titles and summaries. And when he skips three more of the stuff youâd usually settle on, you say, âDonât think youâll find anything on there.â
Ironically enough, he answers, âWeâve barely looked. Look. Knives Outâs second part is on there.â
âI just watched it recently. Hmm, what about that Poe movie with Christian Bale?â
On cue, he passes it three seconds later, only stopping on it for a moment before he voices, âHmmâŠâ
You wait. Drag out another second. Then conclude, âOkay, youâre not feeling it. Got it. Something else?â
âWhat about Disney?â
âWhat about scrolling until we fall asleep?â
The hand still busy with the strings moves up to your sides, pinching you lightly. You flinch, hard enough to nearly break his nose, overdramatic by nature. Amidst your commotion, you hear him say, âDonât mock me. Iâll kick you from the couch.â
âIâll just stay on the floor then.â
âAngel, I swear.â
âOkay, okay. Sorry.â
But youâre not.
Because the bicker continues for another ten minutes, remote control snatched every now and then, ideas suggested and immediately rejected.
Jungkook admits his guilty pleasures merely a couple minutes later, and you conjure all your patience and discourse abilities to explain why you canât watch The Notebook or Titanic anymore.
But once Dionâs soprano voice builds a nest in a lobe of your brain, you give in, half laughing, half agitated as you tackle the 90s classic â only for Jungkook to click out again.
âItâs no fun when weâre not both ready to watch it.â
âDudeâŠâ
More scrolling, you guess.
Five more minutes pass â and eventually, Titanic deserted, you sing the songs of Coco instead. You expect Jungkookâs attention and lips to shift halfway through the movie, tracing down your neck or along your sides â a standard for a weekday movie night.
But to your surprise, he powers through it with minimal dialogue and wide, focused eyes. Palm above your ribs, moveless under your shirt and his cheek pressed against your heartbeat, you assume heâs fallen asleep by the time the credits roll.
Until â you feel warm liquid wetting your shirt, a sniffle combining with his shaky breath before you ask with your own damp eyes, âBabeâ are you crying?â
His answer is delightfully unashamed and immediate, âIâve never watched Coco without crying.â
The soft strains of the movieâs soundtrack wonât let your eyes dry either; but Jungkook seems far more into it than you. Adoration burns hot in your veins.
âYou never told me that!â you exclaim.
âBecause itâs not worth telling. Should be a given â these movies are made to cry to!â
You giggle through your tears. Jungkookâs mind works in miraculous ways â non-judgemental, yet probably flashing a side-eye to those who do not partake in a sob fest during Coco or Encanto.
âI honestly love how youâre not a toxic male at all, you know?â you point out; you feel a huff against your chest.
At least heâs smiling through the brief sadness, too.
You crane your neck, not quite turning around just yet, and watch him rub his cheek clean off the tears. Not that his eyes have stopped welling up, though.
For a moment, you observe, staring at the swollen, pouty lower lip. His pupils glimmer in the TVâs light, long locks brushed back; half of them tied in a tiny ponytail.
You could overthink every detail of his face. Tell him all about his everlasting elegance. Instead, you only lower your voice, soft as you say, âYou look pretty even when you cry.â
âThank you,â he returns, though fingertips still work at the liquid, and you canât help but laugh.
You can barely believe thatâs the same confident beast who was pressing you against cool tiles just an hour ago. The stark contrast baffles you.
Youâre amused when you question, âIt really affects you so much?â
âEverything about it!â he immediately argues. You expand your eyes. âThe way Coco looks at Miguel at the end. And that freaking moment when she meets her parents at the end. Does it not affect you?â
âOh, of course it does,â you defend, âIâm a story girl. Iâll cry reading and watching these things, for sure.â
âAnd then the lyrics,â he continues, in his element a hundred percent, âthe thought of remembering someone even after theyâre gone and far awayâŠâ
The further his sentence progresses, the more the words blur. His voice is feeble, hoarse when he gets to the final syllables. When he pauses between his rambling to draw a breath, you hear a heartbreaking shake in his inhale.
And the exhale sounds like a quiet sob.
You turn back immediately, pressing onto the pause button, remote control still in his hand. The credits darken the room as opposed to the movieâs colours before. You see a damp trail along his cheek, eyelashes wet.
Your smile vanishes as you stare a little longer. The blanket falls from your chest into your lap when you lift your arm from under it, hastily drying his tears with your thumbs. Just slightly, he leans into the touch, but his face soon falls, an attempt to hide.
You ask, âWhatâs wrong?â
Jungkook isnât embarrassed of tears â you figured this out without him admitting it to you. But heâs embarrassed of the guilt he feels; acknowledging it when he speaks.
âItâd just be nice,â hands holding his face drop; you touch his chest, âto make up with the family like this. They made it look easy.â
You keep looking. Bewildered, unable to answer for seconds too long. You blink until the words sink in properly, incapable of more than, âIâm sorry, baby.â
âNo, no,â he argues, shaking his head, âI mean. Who am I to tell you something like this?â
âItâs okay. Your worries are legit worries, too. Look at me,â you reassure, prompting him to meet your gaze. âYouâre not a bad person. Okay? Itâs⊠so terrible that you think you are.â
âI fucked up.â
It dawns on you once more that he firmly believes that; causes a searing sting. The process is neither a smooth nor a quick one â you know itâll take a while for him to convince him otherwise. To drop his current beliefs about himself.
âYou didnât,â you refute, firm certainty and conviction in your voice. âThatâs not how a fuck-up is defined, I promise you. And those who are actually wrong probably know, too.â
âItâd just be nice,â he starts again; the shrug of his one shoulder doesnât distract you from the misery and self-loathing in his eyes, âif he called at least.â
âI know. I donât know, I⊠do you think you could call instead?â
Jungkookâs lashes brush his skin, the apples of his cheeks not as round and squishy as usual. Yet, the sadness makes him look younger, softer.
You sigh; a warm blanket isnât enough anymore. You need to wrap him in the comfort of the world â ideally, in his fatherâs care.
Jungkook opens his mouth for another argument, but then holds it in, says after another moment of contemplation, âActually⊠Thereâs a gathering coming up. Iâll see my people there, so⊠I donât know. Trying wonât hurt, right?â
âIt never does.â
His eyes start unfocusing. You recognise it in the way he glues his gaze to a point on the glass table, unblinking, staring nowhere in truth. You keep your attention on him for another second, hoping heâll look at you, even if forlorn.
But when he doesnât, you wrap your arms around him instead. His chest is calmer against your head now, breathing as soft as the palms that find your back. He presses you into his body by mere inches; you barely notice.
Your fingers draw shapes on his arm, a subtle consoling gesture. In the background, you hear the song fade, volume lower now. The movie soon transitions to something else; you donât pay any mind to it, drowsy and distracted in his embrace.
But then your mind wanders; to the man keeping Jungkookâs thoughts hostage. You remember the conversation the two of you had last Sunday. You recall the way your hand held his broken heart together.
You wish it was as easy as a small scar â an echo of whatever once transpired, but also a reminder that it healed.
Then, for a second, you think of your own wounds. How they still need to be cured, too. How years and time alone wonât fix issues; you need to tackle them actively â maybe at some point, the two of you can.
You laugh softly against his shirt, burying between his pecs; joking, âWeâre perfect for each other. Dysfunctional families and whatnot.â
His chuckle is still a light tremble, but genuine enough for you to celebrate. His hands push a little harder into your back; your body shifts up his lap, butt half on his thigh. Eyes shut, still sniffling.
Jungkook wraps around you like a soothing force, an invisible bubble. A bandage despite carrying all bruises. You sigh in contentment, head dizzy from exhaustion; waking up just when he blurts a question again.
âYou really think that, right? That Iâm not a bad person.â
You crack your eyes open a slit.
You understand. Someone who overthinks needs multiple repeated reassurances â youâre the same.
So you nod against him, guaranteeing, âYouâre⊠kind of ridiculously amazing. Youâre someone who gives all those people hope who donât believe in humanity anymore.â Pause. âAnd I admire you in every way. So much.â
He doesnât respond. You wait. Further dead silence, interrupted by the soft sounds of the TV. You lick your lower lip, dropping your gaze to where your thumb rubs his wrist. Tracing a vein.
His mellow voice reverberates, a melody to your eardrums when he whispers, âWeâd do this so much if you were here all the time.â
âCrying in each otherâs arms, huh?â
He clicks his tongue, accompanied by the grin youâre certain graces his face, even if you canât see. You hear it in his voice all the more, âSure. Also, have dinner together. Shower and watch movies together. Laugh and cry.â
You smile. âI still canât believe it, you know? That you want this⊠and me at all.â
âYou feel that, too, yeah?â Fingertips move up your spine, between your shoulder blades and then to the nape of your neck. Tickling, grazing gently. âI promise I wouldnât ask if I didnât truly feel all that, though.â
âWhatâs all that?â
âJust.â His chest rises. Then falls. âEverything.â
One of your heartbeats freezes, youâre sure. And when it comes back alive, you think â maybe he doesnât need the worldâs comfort after all. Or his fatherâs care. Maybe yours is enough right now.
But then again.
Youâd be damned if you kept your traumas intact. Or his. You took each other as you came long ago â as vulnerable human beings, with a whole lot of baggage. With all the injuries on your heart.
Yet, this isnât a state you want to accept. For neither of you.
Your unwavering belief remains steadfast â that one day, things need to become⊠okay.
So you gulp down all the pain, lighting a candle in your chest, and say,
âItâs not over yet, baby.â
Zara keeps yelling orders around. Her voice, usually collected and tender, is agitated today. You can barely imagine how many little tasks, how many stressed phone calls must be overrunning her.
You establish a distance between your device and your ear, protecting your hearing with one eye squinting shut. And when she returns to the conversation, you exhale through the nose.
âSorry. You were askingââ
âHowâs it look?â you repeat.
âI mean, everyoneâs stressed,â she responds, clearly frustrated; as if it should be obvious to you. And it is; but youâll spiral, too, if you donât keep your calm, at least. âA lot to do.â
âYouâre sure you donât need me to come earlier?â
âAll good, love. Youâre not a manager yet,â she stops her speech to mumble something to another co-worker, imaginary hands jam packed with preparations for the press conference. âBut when you are, you wonât know what to do with all the stress.â
âGreat outlook into a potential future.â
âI just mean you should enjoy things while they last.â
Zara isnât the only one wandering up and down the building to assure perfection. Sheâs only one of the big mentors, managers to handle everything; responsible for the catering and content to be presented at the conference.
Her team stands firmly behind her, but you donât blame her for still allowing her head to steam. Of all busy people in their blazers and slacks, however, sheâs been the only one to spare some time for you.
Youâre grateful for her enthusiasm and support. You smile as you ask, âDo you think I can answer everything the way I intend to?â
âI think so.â
âItâs so new to me.â
âYeah, but youâre a natural at this stuff. And also,â she speaks slower now. The chaos behind her has calmed a little; her voice echoes off somewhere. Perhaps a restroom. âThings are looking good.â
You stop sauntering through the room, pausing in front of the bedâs corner before dropping onto it. Dragging your tongue over your lower lip, you blink, and then ask, âYouâre sure?â
âWe had a couple conversations over here. Made a few more phone calls, and I think you donât need to worry about a thing. Weâll come up with something if things derail, though, okay?â
Youâre uncertain, still anxious. Should this afternoon flop, youâll be screwed.
You need it to succeed. You canât afford misfires. Ugh.
Restless, your foot taps against the floor. You try not to think of things going astray; try to think of a smooth progress, not precarious in any way.
Yet, you ask doubtfully, âCan we do that?â
âWe always can. Thatâs business.â
Guess sheâs right. Your mother has saved you one too many times â from stupid things you did as well as from things you never needed saving from.
A rich human beingâs power over the media â and frankly, the world â is unbeatable. Barely to be underestimated.
âOkay,â you mutter, âthank you.â
Despite only hearing her voice, you imagine her nod, the way she often does. You miss the warm, promising palm on your shoulder. Appreciate that sheâs still here instead of dropping you to the side; leaving the call to handle more relevant issues.
No, she lingers there; you hear her breathe until she asks, âAre you bringing your man, too, by the way?â
Your man.
You straighten your back in pride, bright smile back, âYeah! He said heâd come and support me. But heâs not home yet.â
âOh? Well, you gotta be here in three hours. Whereâd he go?â
âGod knows. But donât worry about punctuality.â You hear a hum, glancing up at the clock. Past noon. âHey, also. My parents are definitely gonna come, right?â
âBabe,â she drags the word a little, and you can almost see her side-eyeing you, âjournalists will be present. Cameras everywhere. At least your mother would never miss such a thing.â
Right. Cares about that company too much.
You remember the times she proved it to you. When youâd come home from middle school, eating some extravagant lunch while watching her talk on TV. Conversing with your staff.
âOkay. Good,â you say, happy about that very answer for once.
Outside, a door creaks. Steps echo through the hallway, a soft call of your name following as you hear the jingling of keys stop.
He sounds joyful.
You get up, phone halfway off your ear as you say, âHey, I should go. I think that heââ
And the moment you look at the open door of the bedroom, your heart stops. For a second, you fear an intruder at his apartment, but the longer you look, the more your brain gives out.
The black-white-red jacket hugs his broad shoulders comfortably, the thin white sweater underneath it nearly transparent enough to reveal his tiny nipples. But despite his stature, itâs not his body that kills the power in your head.
Itâs theâ
You murmur last words into the phone, making out a goodbye that doesnât reverberate as much anymore. Sheâs probably out of the restroom again; too distracted to give your mumble any attention anyway.
You place your phone where you previously sat and inhale his appearance carefully.
First off â you can see his ears. Can see most of his eyes. His forehead.
His hair is still dark, but itâs tamed. The wild locks, usually a feature youâve gotten used to over the span of that one year, lay comfortably on his head. In fact, most of them are gone.
You feel a needle in your chest, but one of the surprising sort. Not painful at all.
âWow,â you only say.
He reaches to the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing the hair there. âYeah?â
You move towards his body, eyes fixated on every hair strand. Then, close enough, you state the obvious, âYou cut your hair.â
âI⊠yeah. Is it terrible?â he asks, round eyes meeting yours. He raises his hand again, to his ear this time, scratching behind it for a second. âNot used to it at all. But I figured Iâd look a little more serious as an artist like this.â
Really? Most artists you knew cared the least about a fancy appearance.
Then again, Jungkook doesnât look fancy. He just looks different. Breathtaking, more mature, older.
His cheekbones look more chiselled now, his eyes wider. You could pass out right here, right now, and he still wouldnât know how relentlessly he affects you.
âMore serious?â you ask, less because you need an explanation. More because your mind keeps wandering, and you canât fathom a word heâs saying.
âJust. Needed a change, I think,â he admits, âand wanted to adjust to a press conferenceâs typical look, too.â
âYou did this for the press conference?â
âI wanted to look put together.â
Your heart dissolves and dissipates. His voice is soft as a petal, tender like the colours on his arm. The expression he sports is unsure, like he wants to hide â waiting for your opinion.
He really put thought into this. Woke up this morning and set a goal with purpose, not uttering a word to you to surprise you a couple hours later.
You donât know what to say. You barely know what to feel, except this unbearable urge to ramble down every piece of tiny emotion heâs ever made you feel.
You want his body wrapped around you, engulfed in a blanket, head on his chest and slumbering for the rest of your life. Want to mumble little confessions, shiver when his lips touch your scalp.
Overwhelmed â thatâs what you are.
âI loved the long hair,â you finally admit, âI guess I got too used to it, so I need to adjust, but. But⊠this is so⊠It⊠it suits you.â
Youâre stumbling over your words, suggesting doubt. Not the way to go. Perhaps they shouldnât have chosen you as one of the press conference speakers after all.Â
Jungkookâs concern grows visible in his big, round pupils; expressive, a true glimpse into his heart. You feel bad because youâre not as good with words as he is, and because he seemed so happy about his choice.
You just canât fucking express yourself â even though youâre melting inside, falling harder. And maybe he notices your awkwardness, because he tries again.
âYouâre uhâ sure you donât hate it?â
âNo! God, no. Itâs different. You look amazing, Kook. You look likeâŠâ
He swallows. âLike what?â
âYouâre so pretty, Jeon Jungkook.â You say it with genuinity this time. He closes his lips, blinking, and while he attempts to veil his relief, you still see the high rise of his chest. âYou look fucking gorgeous, no matter what you do. I⊠I mean it.â
The answer satisfies him. His risen shoulders drop a little, tension falling off, and he fixes the already perfectly sitting collar of his jacket before he smiles. Just a little, a subtle twitch of the corners of his lips.
As soft as his response, âI always aim to reach your level, you know?â
You roll your eyes. Partly to keep them from watering because your heart is bursting. Splintering like every morning and every night; you wonder if youâll ever get used to it.
A couple gentle words lie heavy on your tongue, pressing against the muscle to let them out; but at the prospect of actually uttering them, your guts twist. You donât want to throw up before the meeting.
So you remove the tightness from your chest with a deep exhale, nearly until your lungs are dry, and say, âShut up.â
Playfully, you deliver a soft push against his chest, laughing when his dramatic ass stumbles backwards. Submerged in those goddamn dimples, you immediately grab the hem of his jacket and before you know it, youâve taken a step forward and landed in his arms.
You sneak your arms underneath the leather-ish material, not hesitating for a second before youâre squeezing his torso. He lets out a choked sound, groaning, but reacts similarly fast as you.
His heartbeat accelerates for a moment, right against your ear as you make yourself small. The sweater smells like his favourite detergent and him; musky, fresh. Your palms, flat against his back, crave deeper touch.
Nothing crude; just an afternoon on the bed behind you, limbs entwined, laughing about things that probably arenât that funny anyway.
For a moment, the silence transcends words. You inject the blend of gratitude and affection through your touch, ensuring he understands.
But when itâs not a testament to your emotions enough, you speak against his chest, voice very likely muffled, âYou didnât have to do this for me⊠you just. You never have to do anything for me, but you still do.â
âIâll do anything for you.â
Immediate and sincere. Voice unwavering.
God, youâre not his strongest soldier.
A smile tugs at your lips, and you chide, "Stop that."
"What?"
"If you keep saying these things," you continue, a frisky lilt in your voice, "I'll die. Do you want me to die?"
Jungkook chuckles. Always a soothing melody in a hushed room. He remarks, grip still wrapped around you securely, "Acting all innocent now."
You donât understand right away what he means â but then you hear his heartbeat, picking up on pace again.
Makes you want to squash him harder. Melt into him further.
âShut up, Jeon,â you respond with a nudge, cheek pressed against his shirt. Just a moment longer â just a couple more seconds to inhale the solacing scent.
Your heart is unguarded; he could sever it if he wanted to. Heâs proven that he has the power to. Yet, you keep fuelling it, vulnerable in his warmth as you say, âYouâve no clue what you mean to me, Kookie.â
Your vivid imagination might be forcing things upon your mind that arenât actually there, but you do think you perceive the way his entire body melts. Nearly limp, in a state so relaxed and peaceful that you have only experienced in the mornings before.
Waking him up for work, feeling weightless limbs wrapped around you, passed out.
His fingers trace patterns on your back lightly, stirring from bottom to top and back. They first stop at the small of your back, then lift off your body, hands suddenly on your shoulders.
He pushes you off him, your movements reluctant, and looks at you with profound sincerity. His voice matches his expression, gentle and adoring, âWill you tell me how much I mean to you?â
Amidst the delicate minutes you spend standing between the bedroom and the living room, you almost forget that thereâs a world outside. Itâs a little more grey than before, similar to the suit youâll be wearing in a couple hours.
You remember the prospect of an audience, the answers youâve prepared, to questions they probably will ask. Zara told you they wouldnât hold back â theyâd phrase their inquiries friendly, but still keep the intentions devilish.
Right.
The world is still turning out there. You want it to stop for the two of you â frozen moments. But it canât, at least not yet. Right now itâs too real; and you guess that the worst part is that in your line of business, it will keep revolving around people like you.
Whether you want it or not.
So maybe, if it truly needs to keep spinning and canât halt for you, keeping you in the centre, you should give it something to talk about, too.
Something crisp, something new. Without a care for it, but all the care for you and the man in front of you.
Which is why you spare him another fond smile, forehead calm and your demeanour confident â and tell him, âIâll do my best to let you know."
The audience stretches to the far back. All the rows are filled to the brim with reporters or guests. The shutter of the cameras and the flashing lights are agitating.
You look down.
Nervously tapping your feet on the stage, you shrink into yourself inch by inch. Your seat is uncomfortable, though padded, a little too warm against your ass right now. Zara notices your tick and puts a steady hand to your knee, repeating for the millionth time today, âStop. Itâll be okay.â
âItâs just dawning on me though, Zara.â
âWhat is?â
You nod faintly towards the mic and the attendees, tell her, âThat I was actually chosen to speak. They shouldnât have chosen me.â
âYou asked for it.â
âYeah, but there are more important things to discuss.â
Zaraâs lips form a circle; she shakes and lowers her head, sending out a beam of air that you feel on your wrist, blazer sleeves rolled up. Youâve been like that all evening.
âYou can do it,â she repeats patiently, âyouâre the bossâ daughter and they want your opinion. Youâll hit them hard with yours.â
You suck in a breath, leave the air in your cheeks, and then puff it out again. âI want to. I hope to, I justâ never thought itâd be this nerve-wracking. Donât wanna say anything wrong.â
The subtle shake of her head continues â or reemerges â, lips in a thin line, eyes slowly blinking, âMh-mh. We talked about it, okay? Practised all the questions they could ask. Youâll be good.â
âYou gotta promise.â
âAs much as I can, babe, itâs up to yââ She takes in your falling face, holding back with a sigh when she sees the dread in your pupils. âI promise. Of course.â
She taps your knee, softly and lightly, and then says, âIâm so curious about everyoneâs reactions. Like. Gosh, just look at those people.â
You understand what she means. âI know.â
Zara places a manicured thumb on her matte red lips, mumbling, âHere for entertainment. At least a third of them will add their own fantasies to the articles theyâll write. Hypotheses and manipulative, neutrally phrased thoughts. Cockroaches.â
Funny. Thatâs what you call them, too. A collective understanding, you see.
But.
âShhh,â you voice, âtheyââ
âItâs fine. They know it, too. Like lawyers do.â
Canât refute. Eun told you one too many times how unfair the law business usually is, and how sheâll strive to not have anyone ever manipulate her. To remain genuine.
âYeah, but,â you still argue, âI imagined theyâd be listening in all the time. Donât they do lip reading and stuff?â
She nods, a finger still on her mouth, smiling, âMhm. I also feel like I could say whatever, but itâll be you theyâll focus on today.â
Your heart drops, an uncomfortable twist in your guts adding to the stress. Might have to dash to the bathroom at the very last minute. You curse, âShit, Zara⊠I should fucking ruââ
âStay. You can do this. I promise.â
âOkay,â you take another deep breath, helping your oxygen-lacking, spinning head, âokay.â
You look back to the media present, ready to survive questions; prepared to provide answers. The moderator is talking to your mother at the front, covering the mic with a hand.
They gave you around five minutes to speak, and in that time, you need to answer everything. How you do it is up to you, but the pressure to perform in a certain way, accordingly, weighs heavily on you.
But itâs alright.
Youâll just need to stay confident. Stick to your message. Theyâll have things to say anyway â and youâll make the best of them.
You stare past the lights, squinting to find him, raking your neck. His figure towers in the back, easy to detect, and once he meets your eyes â or perhaps never having averted his from you â he lifts a hand to wave in tiny motions.
Then, he drops his fingers again, entwining them in front of his body. He isnât necessarily allowed here, but you were able to sneak him through in advance. So now heâs a couple feet from the wall, choosing to stand rather than sit, so you find him easily.
So you seek his eyes for comfort if need be.
Before you parted near the entrance, he said, âIâll be offering a dozen thumbs up like a fool if you need me to.â
You chuckled â but maybe he meant it. Because his smile and nod undoubtedly dispel your fears; as if he can see you struggling.
The seconds drag on, and the conference begins seven minutes later. Your mother is the first to talk, outlining a general overview of whatâs to come. Of Charmanteâs philosophies, of its success, praising the team.
Then, she forwards to important employees like Zara, letting them ramble about launches or ideas in depth. Business strategies, partnerships, bringing across points that you usually donât get the chance to share.
This is legit press; even though out for a loophole, they wonât follow you around or hide in the shadows. Incessant and vexing, but at least theyâre allowed here.
Conversations about new collections, store openings as well as expansions and customer engagement pass in a trice, and at some point, another coworker is uttering last words to a last question.
And you realise â that youâre next.
The moderator introduces you with pride; everyone applauds, smiling at you fondly despite all the controversies. âControversies.â Under quote marks, as Zara pointed out, because you never committed an offence.
You stand on weak knees. Trembling when you grip the podium. Itâs like the sound in the room fades, a single peeping tone overshadowing all noise. You barely blink anymore; not even the flashy white can shut your eyes.
And god, you can hear your breathing. Your damn heart. Your nose sucks in all the air available in the room, or at least in the building, and then you open your mouth to speak.
a/n: this is not a cliffhanger!! tumblr just doesn't allow to drop looong posts anymore, so here's the rest of the chapter lol, keep reading and enjoying, i love you and will see you on the other side!! and don't forget to support this chapter, folks đ„ș <3
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I will give this a full review but for now I really want to explain how much I love sbw couple!!! Again, such beautifully written characters, flawed yet whole, and each scene fills me with more and more happiness. I loved the progression of the story, jungkook is the best fuckboi sweetheart I've ever seen đ„șđ„ș watch me read this whole thing again when I'm in desperate need for comfort đ thank you so so so much for writing this love!
stars behind waves | jjk (m)
Summary: With a decadeâs distance between Jungkook and you, your paths cross on the same island you deemed your second home years ago. And you realise once again â the ocean can never compare to the twinkle in his starry eyes.
âł pairing: Jungkook x reader âł rating: 18+ âł genre: estranged best friends to lovers, vacation/beach!au; angst, fluff, smut âł warnings: so so much yearning and pining, gentle fuckboy jk cos iâve no control over myself, a bit of jealousy, the first kiss, arguments/fighting, unresolved issues, heartbreak, angry confessions; explicit sexual content: making out, asking for permission, dom & big dick jk, handjob in the shower, oral (m. & f. receiving), some clit slapping, some biting, squirting, jk loves her tits⊠and her ass even more, fingering, protected sex, soft and rough sex, body worship !!, jk is SUCHHH a goner, he comes on her ass, aftercare, praises; so many emotions; lmk if i forgot smth! âł wc: 22.7k âł a/n: here we gooo !! @missgenialityââ & @voiceswithoutlipsââ my angel betas, as usual, iâd be lost without you đ iâm really happy with how this one came out, so i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did writing it !! as always, donât forget to drop a message in my inbox â it makes my day <33
âł listen to the SBW playlist for the full experience đ Â
TAGLISTÂ | MASTERLIST | WIPsÂ
There is a long lost beach somewhere at the end of the world.
It belongs to a blooming, floating island, pleasant and hot. Wildlife chirps hidden behind trees, calm and welcoming. There are waterfalls that must be somewhere in the middle of the island â youâre not quite certain anymore, since your memory of the place has weakened over time.
You do remember the sun that descended there, though â you always used to say it wasnât the same as the one you admired at home, watching from your garden.
Jungkook would always reprimand you, tut at you, throw tiny little shells at your bare thighs until you, furied and irritated, abandoned him at the beach. He would stay there until the moon rose from the east, and you would watch him from afar.
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i swear to the heavens (or hell) that made me, this fic is my undoing. T_T
first of all, your writing ruins me. secondly namjoon seems to be BUILT to take that ruination further. and tHEN WE HAVE IN THE SOOP GYM JOON JUST TAKING ME IN HIS NATURAL HABITAT NOOOOOOOO. DIS AINT JOON ISSA GOON
If Namjoon could name two things on this spinning planet that he loves unconditionally, theyâd spell your and the gymâs name.
my simping aside, this is such a beautiful sentence đđ just joon, his partner and a gym and the world be damned. i love it sho muuchh
âIâm irritated. The free entertainment is irritating me.â
US. EVERY TIME HE POSTS ON THAT STUPID FUCKING APP ITS US. HE'S ANNOYING THE WORLD TO NO END AND I NEVER WANT HIM TO STOP!!! WHAT REAL SENTIMENTS YOU'VE WRITTEN HERE
Also man has some AUDACITY talkin about my tits being out when he????? just????????????????????????????? just!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Shooting his arms forward, one of his hands pushes your face up by the jaw almost roughly, the other stretching in front of your mouth before his lecherous voice utters, âSpit on it.â
gAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH RID YOU MONSTER IM LIKE REALLY HORNYED AND YOU MADE THINGS A MILLION TIMES WORSE WITH THIS ONE FCKING LINE
Like a key to its respective lock, his cock fits inside your pussy perfectly, filling you to the brim, his thrusts hard, but slow. Namjoon knows exactly how to fuck you into oblivion â his body moves as if intimacy with you has become an automatic reflex; like itâs ingrained in his muscle memory thoroughly.
this paragraph is... poetic. it reads so well, intimacy as a reflex a beautiful way to put it. he definitely knows how to fock me into the next dimension aND YOU DID A TITLE REFERENCE YEEHAW also his cock my puthy click sound yes
and i asked for pretty dick and you gave me pretty dick im đđđđđ
âHonestly think that my cockâ looks the prettiest⊠inside you,â
CUE THAT ONE BRETMAN ROCK VINE GOING YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS yes YES OFC YOUR CUM IS HELLA SAFE IN THIS PUSSY VAULT
and then in classic fashion you ended it on a fluffy note T_T joonie boonie reading to me, the gentlest giant EVER. thank you SO SO MUCH for writing this im truly hot and bothered on a quiet afternoon and i can't explain to my mother why all the water bottles in the house are empty. you always write amazing but this one pwp will always hold a special place in me cold hart <3
muscle memory | knj (m)
Summary:Â The weather outside might be trying to chill you to your bones, but watching Namjoonâs seething hot presence work out is enough to melt every little piece of you â and he sees the longing in your eyes all too soon.
pairing: Namjoon x female reader
rating: 18+
genre: established relationship; some fluff, mostly smut
warnings: namjoon works out + his bicep (yes this is a warning), explicit sexual content: dom!joon, spanking, hitting it from behind + riding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), spanking, some spit involved, bit of masturbation (m.), dirty talk, mirror kinkâŠ, squirting. thatâs it i think :]
word count:Â 2.9k
a/n:Â in the soop joon was the inspiration behind this đ this fic is dedicated to my beloved, thirsty, dumb-cat-friend @missgenialityâââ, i adore you and i hope this ruins you as much as you anticipated muah <3 also, wishing everyone happy holidays !! enjoy <3
MASTERLIST | WIPS
Damned be the silence of the forest surrounding you on this late December afternoon.
If youâd known about the seemingly harmless suggestion that your boyfriend threw at you a month ago, you wouldnât have said yes to this mysterious trip. The reason doesnât lie in the destination itself â no, in truth, youâve never felt as tranquil as you have in the last eleven hours.
The sky remains devoid of clouds, rain or snow, the sun shining onto you pleasantly and the oxygen produced deep in the woods so crisp that you reckon youâd been living with suffocating lungs so far. You feel healed â feel clean.
And maybe youâd continue feeling alive and serene, if the voice of the menace groaning in front of your eyes wasnât dropping an octave with every pull of his body. That certainly does not contribute to the inner peace youâve been trying to seek these past thirty minutes.
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i think i need to put great emphasis on the fact that I DONT READ SFW FICS. AT ALL. they're always nsfw. so imagine rid's surprise when i came back from betaing this and yelled CAU COUPLE MY FAVOURITE COUPLE and routinely threatened her to not add any smut to this? this fic is COMPLETE. it completed me, it completed rid, and it completed the two dummies in love in this <3
it started out with HEAVY second hand embarrassment. yn why are you like this its JSUT A MOVIE BRO like fr but their banter is so well written. but the way tae categorizes every being, wow i was liek how did you even think of that @.@ esp the one line that floored me:
In truth, everything about your virtual presence reminds him of the gloom and mystery that a thundercloud and a storm bring.
wow. truly poetic.
im so glad she used her brain and apologized and THUS BEGAN THEIR SAGA OF LOVE AND TRUST AND UUUGGGHHH IM EATING COTTON CANDY RIGHT NOW IWTH THIS LOVE STORY
tae being a whole cutie patootie and asking yn about her day, their whole conversation is so adorable. i love college aus but something about the working class and their daily struggles just gets to me, and that's why this couple just FITS like A PIECE OF PUZZLE in my heart
In his mind, you resemble Aragornâs soft personality; a sweet, affectionate girl drowning blissfully in Tolkienâs world.
Tae's POV is so adorably written I swear I love reading every word in it, his vision is so unique sometimes I feel like T_T i dont think like this but WOW i totalyl see your point looll
Dark locks fall into his brown, nearly black, shimmering eyes. Full lips are curved into an endearing, nearly innocent smile. His earlobes are devoid of jewellery, but the piercing holes indicate that they havenât always been empty. And is that a mole under his eye?
HERE WE HAVE IT RID IN HER NATURAL HABITAT! you've explained tae's face what, 50 times? its always new the next time. i've probably told you this but it awes me everytime i read it, i feel like its a new drawing of the same person T_T you so taelented
AND THEN THEY CALL AND VIDEO CALL AND???? THEIR WHOLE EXHCANGE AHHHH if only i could point out one sentence i liked, but i have to just copy this whole part if i did that LOL there's no bad surprises in this fic as a whole. only amazing ones
lmao also this oc's overthing is ME its very relatable thank u so much
but you know my fav scene T_T
âAre youâŠâ he begins, his sentence hanging in the air when you put your arms around his neck. With gentle movements of your feet, you bring his body into motion and begin your slow, effortless dance; and when he realises your intentions, he smiles and asks, âThereâs no music though, is it?â
BLS THEYR'E SOOOOOOO!!!! and tbf i gotta give you kudos because i would find this scene very hard to write! there's so many intricate actions to describe it would have taken me three whole paragraphs to even make my reader realize that they're dancing - but you did it so wellll and its so seamless! beaaauuttyyyy <3
âWhere?â He clears his throat as he sits up, fatigue still apparent in his pupils as his hand comes up to massage your aching spot. âDid you fall asleep, too?â
I love how this is jsut an unconscious action - they've met so recently and yet he just starts massaging like its the norm between those two <3 just goes to show how deep their connect is without even meeting in person for so long
âFor some reason,â another tiny pause, âI feel like sunrises represented you even before I met you.â
Man tae dont go around saying shit if you dont want to get kissed i cant promise anything >:( you're sunrise, tae sunset, this is all too beautiful to be simply words - you paint a whole piece of art for us
And when he finally kisses you, you leave the ground below and enter a realm above the clouds.
HALLELUJAH WE DID IT FAM MY HEART IS CRUSHING MY RIBS FROM HOW LARGE IT HAS BECOME READING THIS!!! never did i think i would simp so hard for someone else's kiss but we are a new person everyday
start to finish this fic was a dream ride, im so happy you asked me to beta this for you. every year i want a drabble about this couple celebrating his birthday and counting his moles and drinking champagnes and all the fun things they deserve <3 thank you sho much for writing this fic my darlin <3
crowds around us | kth
gorgeous and breathtaking banner by @kimtaehyunqâââââ <3
Summary:Â Â No matter how crowded or busy the world around you gets, your thoughts keep drifting back to him until they begin longing for more than just his virtual presence â and when you finally do meet him, he erases all of your thoughts entirely.Â
†pairing: Taehyung x reader
â€Â rating: GA
†genre: s2f2l; lots of fluff, some crack
†warnings: (online) banter, lots of teasing / flirting, lots of talk about sunrises and stuff, physical intimacy indicated but not described, movie references (you donât need to understand them), alcohol consumption, kissing; not much, itâs honestly just tooth-rotting fluff yâall </3
†word count: 12.6k
†a/n: i wish there were words to describe what this man means to me and how much love i hold for him. but since this is an impossible task, i hope that this little love letter suffices too <3 happy birthday to the gentlest, loveliest, prettiest winter bear ever đ„ș a big thank you to @missgenialityââââ for betaâing this !!! this is also my contribution to @dailydaeguâââs taehyung birthday event !! hope you guys like it <3
âł listen to:Â sweet night X heather mash up & willow by Taylor Swift
MASTERLIST | WIPs
Sometimes, when the sunrise drenches the sky in unknown and colourful hues, it looks like itâs a representation of a familiar stranger. Sure, the natural phenomenon occurs in the same tender way every single dawn, but the intensity of it still feels new each time.
Taehyung knows that if worldly things truly resembled a person, heâd be able to recognise it with a brief, careful glance. Would be able to see a sunrise and a sunset, decipher the night sky or fog or supernova written in their eyes. Itâs a strange way to think that he canât put into words or explain to curious friends who try to pull him down from the seventh cloud he constantly floats on.
Of course he doesnât think of these things when he soaks in the warmth of the sun in the summer, or when he takes in the scent of wet grass after a pleasant drizzle. And the poetic and optimistic aspect of his philosophy surely does not cross his dreaming mind when he finds himself in front of his computer one October night.
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i can't believe this is my starting point cuz it would sound very small when we're talking about rid's writing - but every fic has a unique starting point that she chooses and she nails it EVERY DAMN TIME. like how? 'shimmering ray of sunshine that illuminates the dark' KISS MY ASS YOU'RE BREAKING ME APART DAY BY DAY
i've always told rid that she could write tooth-rotting fluff, zero hint of angst, and still it could make soldiers weep. something about the way she writes has this power to move, the words she chooses have a blanket of sadness over the most cheery statements - and I DO NOT MEAN THIS TO BE A BAD THING. ITS A DAMNED SKILL THAT SHE CAN WRITE LIKE THIS AND I AM WHOLLY ENVIOUS OF THE FEELINGS SHE INVOKES IN MY DEAD HEART
here we have yn sad. why? suspense. am i still feeling every single emotion of hers without knowing any of the backstory? fully.
I WAS HOLLERING WHEN YOU INCLUDED VELOCIPASTOR REFERENCES IN IT WE NEED TO BRING KAS IN AND WATCH THAT DAMNED THING HAHAHAHHA
and then after that crack moment you start speaking about how she has started feeling cautiously happy, and my tearducts break again. the theme of loving yourself is present, and im in love with this theme <3 I also wholly want to be Hina thanx
ENTER KIM TO THE TAE TO THE H Y U N G SCANDALOUSLY LOOKING GENTLEMAN the WAY YOU WRITE TAEHYUNG dude! nobody else compares, seriously đ” but LAWD HE TALKS but lAWD HE'S ADORABLE idk whether i want to give him the ew-stranger-stank face or the aww-PLS-KITH face >:(
I also love Jungkook so much wtf - "next time i talk to them i'll tell them i'm just a lazy bum" LMAO FAM WHY DO YOU WRITE SUCH RELATABLE CHARACTERS THESE CALL OUTS HURT
and of course, where there's a partyyyy there's changes for luuuuvvv~ the banter between the three fronds, the silly references to terrible movies (HEY WE NEED TO WATCH THE ROOM TOGETHER AS WELL I LVOE THAT MOVIE PLS), the mintue details of how taehying takes care of her through her drinking, uFF
the scene that made me CACKLE went like this in my head:
taehyung: đ„ș pls can i hab number đđđ„ yn [drunk]: đđ taehyung: đđđđđ
LMAOOOO sorry for butchering your beautiful scene
all in all, this taehyung was already the loml even BEFORE I READ THIS THING and then i read it and now if someone could get me a branding rod with tdoahh taehyung on it so it could go on my ass that'd be wonderful đi loved this SO MUCH and im gonna tear through the rest in no time, thank you SO SO MUCH for rewriting this bb! đđđđđ
the diary of a healing heart ⯠1 | kth (m)
Summary: Time mends a broken heart. What you donât consider is that the warmth of a completely unexpected person is enough to heal it, too.
i ⯠the first glance
â€Â pairing: Taehyung x reader
†rating: 18+
†genre: s2f2l, college!au; angst, fluff, eventual smut
†warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk college students smh, past break-up, y/n has some secrets hmm, best friends watching bad movies and going to bad parties, oc healing from shit that happened in the past⊠tae being super endearing and boyfriend material 3000⊠jungkook is so hot and the usual flirt and sexy next door college boi + best friend <3
†word count: 8.6k
†a/n: goshhh, this was the first fic i ever wrote and itâs finally here, brand new and revamped *cries nostalgically* T_T canât wait to hear what you guys think !! thank you @jaeismââââ for this STUNNING banner and to @amourtaeââââ & @jimilterâââ â for betaâing, i love thou <3
next â€
MPOST | MAIN MASTERLIST
In the shimmering ray of sunshine that illuminates the dark, small room, you see dust particles fly through the air. The end of the year arrived too quickly, and while living through the usually cold days of December, the sun has blessed you with its warmth today.
Itâs almost as if the vivid hues of the star are trying to console you, distract you from whatâs happening inside, between the four walls. After all the snow has come and melted, this seems to be the only light you can see at the moment. Your heart is certainly far from shining, a dark pit inside your chest that aches at the sight of the man that holds you like youâre his last breath.
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the way i love this fic - the crack in the cracks, the fluffy introduction of namjoon and the reader, the conversations that melody and rid took us through!! so engaging, so beautifully written. and the best fanfic trope of a lifetime - shy, awkward namjoon turning into sex god in the smut - IMMACULATEEEE!
i loved this fic, and as usual betaing it was a menace because I WAS TOO DAMN IMMERSED IN THE STORY! thank you for writing this fic loveliesss đđđ
all about you | knj (m)
Summary:Â Studying prophecies can be fun, but youâd much rather focus on the man whose gaze always seems to linger on you.
pairing: Namjoon x female reader
rating: 18+
genre: fantasy!au, HP!au, s2l; crack, fluff, mostly smut
warnings: pining; explicit sexual content: dom!namjoon, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, swearing, marking, sexual tension in general, fingering, oral (f. receiving), slight overstimulation, consent bcos we love that, teasing, multiple orgasms, mentions of a sir-kink; heavy flirting, some harry potter puns lol, theyâre both such dorks; i think thatâs it x
word count: 8.7k
a/n: ⊠hello there and welcome to another magical collab with @hoebiiâ !! happy to announce that this is the first non-maknae-line-fic iâm posting on my main blog, so please give it a lot of love; itâs hot, i promise !! :â) also, spot all the bts & hp references, we are proud of them LMAO
betas: @missgenialityââ @joheunsaramââ & @hobiandspriteâââ thank you for dealing with the first crack draft i/we threw at you babies <3
DISCLAIMER: we changed the HP canon slightly due to the nsfw nature of this fic: in that sense, all characters are adults, even if the original story suggests otherwise!
â part of the amortentia chronicles
MASTERLIST | WIPs
The endless, disappointing fog that Namjoon was forced to stare into on a weekly basis had become increasingly boring. Somewhere in the background, he could faintly hear the strange content of the lecture that Trelawney used to babble in divination class with no end in sight.
One would argue that a Ravenclaw teacher could actually lead him to enlightenment, show him what his future would be based on; but the only thing she fulfilled according to the curriculum was to place the prophecies in front of the students and tell them to widen their horizon or whatever.
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