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alphabetboyluvr · 1 year ago

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habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

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

wordcount: 16k

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

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

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

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

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Obviously."

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

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

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

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

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

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

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

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

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

A routine grew. Habits formed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

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

But he was, and it was lovely.

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

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

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

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

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

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure."

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

"You think I can't be trusted?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

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

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

Have you not served him enough?

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

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

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

"Excuse me, sir."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

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

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

You: you not coming in tonight?

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

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

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

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You: they'd rather die :) x

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

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

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

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

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

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

You: charming x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

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

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

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

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

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

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

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

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

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

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

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

"No!"

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

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

"I'm not!"

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

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

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

"Yes, we are."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he did, and you damn well know it.

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

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

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

You're silent when he says this.

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

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

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

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

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

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

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

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

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

"No one."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed.

It's that you're separate.

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

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

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You really have to ask?"

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

They always have done.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

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

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

The irony isn't lost on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

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

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

Nothing happened between you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

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

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

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

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

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

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

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

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

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

"Mistaken identity."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But every cloud has a silver lining.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're gonna kill Taehyung.

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

"Safe," you grimace.

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

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

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

"My sentiments exactly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wish you didn't.

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

"Excuse me?"

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

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

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

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

And so he doesn't try.

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

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

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

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

"You know that's not—"

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

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

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

Feels like it, too.

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

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

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

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

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

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

"I didn't ghost you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why shouldn't I?"

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

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But I—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And what was that?" You encourage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"S'all there is. They alright?"

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

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

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

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

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

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

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

"I promise," you swear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

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

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

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's the thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

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

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

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

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

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

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

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

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

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

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

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

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

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readychilledwine · 1 month ago

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Heartbeat

Summary - One bed doesn't work well for 3 illyrians and their mate.

Warnings - Azriel's slutty sweatpants, mentions of wing clipping but nothing graphic, swearing

A/n - Anyone else wonder how any quad would handle a one bed situation?

Written for @polysjmweek day three: Will there be enough room?

SJM Poly+ Week Masterlist

Master Masterlist

“Oh you have got to be shitting me,” Azriel grumbled. “Rhys, you were supposed to ask for 2 beds.”

“I did,” The High Lord pulled off the hood that did nothing to disguise him, prompting a giggle from you and Cassian. The look of annoyance he gave the two of you had you hiding your face in Cassian's chest. “I suppose you two think this is very funny.”

“Very,” Cassian chuckled. “Azriel is acting like the 4 of us haven't been sharing a bed for, what, 200 years?” Cassian's hands guided you into the room, setting your bag down. “Go bathe first.”

216 years, you would never correct Cassian, and they still ensured you showered first in these situations. It wasn't the first time you four found yourselves in a rundown inn seeking shelter after a rough mission. It wouldn't be the last either. Peeling off the sweat and dirt-caked clothing made your skin crawl. You four had been hunting Illyrians that had crossed Rhysand for the last time. Your husband was tired of the clippings and the fighting.

All three of your husbands were, actually.

It had started with you and Cassian. The bond had snapped when he saw you on the Summer Court's pleasure barge, per his banishment from your home. He had introduced you to Azriel a few days later, the fight between them now being the cause of the infamous sand castle collapse that shook the Summer Court. Not wanting to live without them, you left when they did, arriving at the Night Court and causing another fight the second you laid eyes on Rhysand. The four of you worked hard to make the dynamic flow, but once it fell into place, the three of them all admitted their lives and connection made so much more sense.

“Do you need help, sweetheart,” a purr made you pause, hands moving away from the corset you wore for extra protection. Rhysand began to work on the ties. “We are attempting to figure out the bed situation,” his voice was slightly annoyed. “With two males with wings-”

“Baby, I can sleep on the floor,” you offered.

“Over my dead body,” his eyes met yours in the mirror. “If we move the bed to the center of the room, we can have Azriel and Cassian take the outsides-”

“And squish you in the middle with me on the floor,” your voice was meant to be firm, but the relief as he finally finished unlacing your corset made it more of a relaxed sigh. “You can't handle sleeping on floors or the couch. your knees will get stiff, and then you will become grumpy.”

He nipped at your ear playfully, “I do not get grumpy.” He walked with you toward the tub, arms around your waist as he hugged you from behind. He kept you practically glued to him, turning the faucet on, “I fear the water won't get warm.”

“It's okay. One cold bath won't kill me,” your fingers traced his forearm tattoos. “We get to go home tomorrow, right?”

He nodded, “Azriel found and took care of the last group while you and Cassian were doing whatever you two were doing.”

You leaned back to narrow your eyes, “Very serious mission things.” A lie, and Rhysand knew, but he wouldn't push it. “We were critical to the success of this operation.” Not a lie.

A dark brown lifted as his smirk began to form. “I will pretend I didn't just see a flash of what you two were doing in the woods today. Bathe while I get the bed figured out.” He left after smacking your ass, laughing as he did.

You sunk into the water, the harsh drag of wood on wood outside the door. The rules of your missions typically involved bathing quickly so you could all wash up, but with the water cold, there was little reason not to soak longer than you normally would. Once you were chilled to the bones, you stepped out and drained the tub, cringing at the sight of the dirty water.

A real bath, preferably with 3 sets of hands helping you, would be a must once you were back in Velaris. You wrapped yourself in the towel, walking out to where Azriel was situating things. “And where did the other two go?”

“They claim food,” he murmured. “Rhysand said the water is cold.” His hand reached for your hair, twisting a lock. “Are you cold?”

“A bit.”

“Start a fire if you'd like,” the tone of his voice was soft and almost musical, as it always was when he relaxed. His lips were warm on your forehead as he went to bathe, leaving you to try to heat the cold room with the small hearth. You studied the bed once you had it going, changing into your last clean pair of leggings and finding one of Cassian's shirts to wear.

There was no possible way all four of you would fit. Your bed in Velaris was custom-made, allowing all three males to stretch out their wings. That wouldn't be possible here. Rhysand would have to keep his tucked in with his magic, Azriel and Cassian would have to let theirs rest on the floor.

You had a plan. One they'd hate. You grabbed a blanket from the corner of the room and a pillow and laid in front of the fireplace. They'd believe you fell asleep warming your skin back up and hopefully, they'd let you sleep there. Maybe that would allow the three of them some sort of comfort. You shut your eyes, the warmth so enjoyable it lulled your mind into relaxing.

Cassian and Rhysand walked back into the room, Cassian quick to notice your form curled up under a blanket. “We should have just pushed and flew her home,” he told Rhysand. He kneeled down next to you, waving the questionable soup in front of your nose. Your tummy grumbled, forcing you to open your eyes from the sleepy state. “Eat.”

You took the bowl, sitting up to see Azriel coming out and Cassian motioning for Rhysand to go in. Azriel's sleeping pants hung loose on his hips as he grabbed a bowl as well. His waist looked fsr more interesting than the grey and clumpy soup, but you resisted the temptation. “Like bathing in a damned river,” he muttered to Cassian. “What are you doing on the floor,” he glanced at you.

“Sleeping,” your face, as you took a spoonful of soup, made both males pause.

“Can't be picky, sweetheart,” Azriel said softly. “Picky starves.”

“I know.”

Rhysand took the fastest bath you think he'd ever done, shivering as he walked back out in his towel and began to change. He said nothing as he took his first bite of food, nor did Azriel. Cassian had got to take his turn by the time you looked up. Once he was back, his own pants did not rest as low as Azriel's. He glanced at you. “That is my shirt,” his face was bright as he took you in, the material hanging almost drowning you in it. “But yes, you can wear it.”

All eyes were on that single bed. Rhysand appeared to be calculating the space, as if he could ensure his little plan would work. You laid back on the floor, stretching and then curling back to the fireplace. Wordlessly defiance was something you specialized in, but the three of them weren't stupid, and it didn't take them long to begin situating.

Azriel wanted the spot that'd allow him to lay facing the door, always on high alert when your little pack found itself away from home. Cassian took the side that allowed him to face the window, another watchful eye to where any threats may come. Rhysand was forced between them, a silent conversation before Cassian walked over and picked you up.

That's how you found yourself laying on Rhysand. One of his arms held your hips as the other moved to cup the back of your head. One wing rested on the two of you like a weighted blanket, then another. “Go to sleep,” Rhysand whispered to you. “You may not realize this, but you are trapped.” There was no response from you, no argument. The soft sound of your breathing was the only thing coming from you as you laid on what would now Be your favorite bed.

“Next time, we will fly home,” Azriel stated.

Cassian immediately agreed, “This isn't fair to y/n.” They both glanced at Rhysand when he didn't respond, only to find him asleep. “Or maybe it wasn't fair to us,” Cassian added.

“Thinking it definitely wasn't fair to us,” Azriel chuckled. “He worked this to his advantage.”

“He always does,” Cassian said. His voice was getting deeper and slower. “Always does.” It did not take long for the two of them to fall asleep, the room filled with nothing but the sounds of a dying hearth and four hearts beating in sync.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

#elizabeths.updates #send asks #send anons #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #poly!batboys x reader #poly+sjmweek2025

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ubeb0nes · 5 months ago

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NSFW Sevika HCs

𖢻 ~ ~ ~ 𖢻

A/n: i haven't written any smut in god knows how long so pls go easy yall 😭

𖢻 ~ ~ ~ 𖢻

This is a dom

I love indulging in the bottom!sevika content when i come across it, it's beautiful, showstopping

But bby, you only get to do what she lets you do. Even when she's on bottom, you're never really the one in charge, no matter how you might try to convince yourself

She's a terrible tease, and has an absolutely filthy mouth. Loves watching your jaw drop slightly when she whispers things in public, and how you scramble to gather yourself

Her self-control and patience is absolutely insane. She's not one to jump your pants at the first tease you give her.

She'll let you have her fun, all while running the tip of her tongue across a canine and plotting her revenge

Gets a big head/ego if you call her mommy. Nearly loses her mind and reputation for restraint if you call her daddy

A lot of her turn-ons are things that aren't inherently sexual. I like to think she's attracted to both masc and fem-presenting people, and anything leaning deeper into these characteristics will get a rise out of her.

Ex.'s -> watching you put on makeup in the mornings, specifically lipstick/gloss. Conversely, how your thighs look and your face hardens when you manspread while striking a deal. When you look up at her and rest your hands on her chest. When you lean back and rest your arm over the back of her chair

Particularly masculine and particularly feminine things. She eats up both

Absolutely a bit of a sadist/madochist. We know this from the whole cait thing

She's obsessed with your mouth in particular. The marks you leave, the shapes it makes with certain sounds she pulls from you, how your lips wrap around her fingers when she teases your mouth open with them

She rarely ever has you on your back because she wants to watch your tongue loll and your eyes roll

Goes crazy for certain things you say when you start to reach melted brain levels of fucked out; "baby, it's too much…" "Sevi, i can't keep going" "no, baby, no more…" it's like a second wave. And, (always) only with your emphatic consent, she'll proceed to push your body even more

Her favorite position is missionary i'm sorry lmfao. Vanilla in theory, but definitely doesn't feel like it when she's slinging that shimmerstrap LOL

I HC she's generally pretty gentle with you, at least lovesick!sevika is. In the sense that she's not tossing you around or slapping your ass purple.

Rather, she'll wrap her hand around your throat but not really squeeze. And she'll push her fingers down your throat until you're teary-eyed, but she won't fuck your throat until it's raw and sore.

She prefers using her hands and her mouth, but her strap game is insane. That stroke would be hypnotic to watch.

Her eyes read clearly when it comes to intimacy. The way they darken and narrow when she's about to pounce on you, and how they always get so glossy and self-satisfied (if not a bit smug) as she watches you cum.

Her crows feet crease as she smiles down at you, whispering "good job, baby" and "there's my girl, you're okay. I've got you."

Always insists on taking care of you afterwards, but won't fight you on it if you flip it on her and make her lay back so you can clean her up

In fact, please do this. She'll think about it for weeks

Cuddles you afterward like she's trying to burrow in your skin. Can't get enough of the smell of you post-sex, burying her nose in your neck and your hair

Yeah, she's never sharing you. Everything about you is too precious, too hers.

She demands hickeys/lipstick marks on her chest- over her heart- because your claim over her deepens her own.

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika headcanon #BOOMSHAKALAKA YES GODD YES GODDD #ubebones writing

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hard-core-super-star · 7 months ago

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push me on the counter, call me princess [W.Maximoff; N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x dom!natasha romanoff

summary: you and wanda develop a connection you definitely shouldn't have with someone in a relationship. unbeknowst to you, it's all part of their plan.

warnings: PURE SMUT, MINORS DO NO INTERACT -> mentions of cheating! [no actual cheating, though! wandanat have an agreement, R doesn't know about it until things get spicy]; mommy + daddy kink; nipple play; impact play; wanda using her powers to hold R down; fingering [R receiving]; oral [Nat receiving]; twinges of humiliation; degradation + praise; nat's a little mean but we love her for it; use of the term 'slut'; probably more but i forgot

wordcount: 3.3k

a/n: so...i'm technically not doing anything official for kinktober this year because school is kicking my butt already BUT i have a few ideas for some very filthy smut fics so i'll be posting them this month. i haven't written for wandanat in a minute so i hope i did them justice. please let me know your thoughts, i hope you enjoy <3

[part two | part three]

* * * * * * *

It was supposed to be a one time thing.

That's what you told Wanda when she pushed you against the farthest wall in some dingy, badly-lit, New York bar.

The two of you had come back from a long, draining, mission and, instead of staying at the Compound and actually resting, you decided to go out and get drunk to let off some steam. The mission had technically been a success, but it had also been a pain in the ass...and in the shoulder, thanks to the knife wound you'd received.

So, yeah, maybe going out wasn't the best idea in the first place.

In your defense, it was borderline impossible to say no to the witch. Mainly because she was very convincing when she wanted to be, but also because of your massive, and borderline ridiculous, crush on her.

To make matters worse, Wanda was pissed off at Natasha for...something and you ended up taking the place of a supportive partner.

It would have been fine had the drinks in your system not made your inhibitions lower significantly, which rendered you helpless against the green-eyed woman of your dreams. Then again, it's not like you were particularly against that idea in the first place.

Maybe that made you a horrible person.

Maybe that made Wanda a monster.

But how could she be one when she whispered the sweetest words in your ear while taking you over the edge and destroying you in the most pleasurable of ways? How could there be anything wrong about her soft caresses and gentle smiles?

A part of you knows the answer. It's wrong because the witch's heart isn't yours. Or worse, because someone else's heart belongs to the witch.

Because for all their problems and arguments, Wanda and Natasha love each other. At the very least, they tolerate each other enough to stay together.

And you don't fit into their relationship.

You shouldn't.

But Wanda isn't a person you can just ignore.

She makes that perfectly clear no less than a week after your little "mistake".

You're in the kitchen at the Compound, eating some leftovers and scrolling through your phone to keep yourself occupied, when Wanda walks in. You don't need to look at her to know she's pissed off. Her energy is way too heavy to mean anything else.

"Hey, Wands," you say, barely looking up from your phone out of fear of falling under her spell once more.

She walks over to you, leaning against the counter and silently watching you for a second. Her silence honestly scares you, but you don't question her yet. You know better than that.

"You've been avoiding me," she says, her voice soft yet not gentle. "Why is that?"

A shiver runs down your spine at the question.

You know you can't lie to her, she's a freaking mind reader, but you can't exactly tell her the truth. You've both been trying to ignore it since the morning you woke up tangled together in her bed.

A bed she shares with someone who isn't you.

"I've been busy," you reply with a shrug. "Kate's been forcing me to train every day."

Clearly, that's the wrong answer, considering the tilt of her head.

Yup. You're fucked now.

"Is that so? I didn't realize you two were such good...friends."

Wanda pushes herself off the counter, taking slow, calculated, steps until she's standing behind you. If you weren't so focused on keeping your voice steady, you might have been able to guess what her plan in.

"Well, we both love annoying Clint and making Yelena mad."

She hums in response as her arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you back until you're firmly pressed against her.

The action almost makes you fall off your stool. You somehow stay put, though, even as every fiber of your being tells you to leave. The harsh truth is that you don't want to leave.

You want her so badly that the consequences don't seem to matter.

Nothing matters but her.

Which is exactly what she wants.

"You should be careful with the little archer," she says, her hands not so subtly caressing your sides. "You know she's just going to use you then throw you away when she's bored."

The irony in her words isn't lost on you.

You open your mouth to let her know that when her hands move up and brush against your chest. It takes all your willpower to stop yourself from gasping.

"Wanda," you hiss. "We're in the middle of the kitchen."

"Relax, detka," she whispers into your ear, your body instantly obeying her words. "You know I won't let anyone see."

"Do I?" you reply. "Because it seems exactly like something you'd enjoy."

The witch chuckles despite herself. "That's true but you're not the only trying to keep things a secret."

You know her words should make you feel worse about this whole thing but right now, they only serve to turn you on. As messed up as it is, there's something exciting about the situation.

About how much Wanda wants you.

So, even though you know you should push her away, you lean back against her, allowing her hands to explore your body however she wishes.

Your obedience (if you can even call it that) is instantly rewarded by the other woman. Her hands sneak their way under your shirt, her fingers drawing teasing shapes on your warm skin as she makes the journey upward.

"You're such a good girl for me, baby," she mumbles almost absent-mindedly. "Letting me use you like this. Letting me play with you whenever I want."

A part of you wants to put up a fight. To show her you have a bigger backbone than she realizes. That you're able to switch the tables on her whenever you want.

Unfortunately, that part of you goes quiet the second her fingers find your nipples. "Look at you, all ready for me, huh?"

"Shut up," you mumble as your cheeks heat up.

Your words of defiance earn you a sharp pinch to your already sensitive nipples. "Watch your mouth, sweetheart."

It's impossible to stop your back from arching as the leftover sting rushes through your system. You'd learned the hard way that Wanda could either be the sweetest or the most unforgivable lover. In a way, it made being with her all the more exciting...and unpredictable.

Then again, you can't pretend you don't like it. If you didn't, you would have never gotten mixed up with her in the first place.

"Sorry," you whisper, not sounding particularly sincere.

If Wanda notices, she doesn't point it out and instead goes right back to playing with your chest, squeezing and pinching your nipples as she pleases.

Her actions only serve to make you more and more desperate for her. It's almost embarrassing how good she is at reading you. At knowing exactly what buttons to push to turn you into a shaking, pleading mess.

A part of you knows it's thanks to her powers that she can read your desires so well, but you ignore the thought for now. You could beat yourself up over all this later, right now, you had a very important task ahead of you.

"You're eager today," she teases, her eyes zeroing in on the slight movement of your hips. "Did you miss me that much?"

You're not sure why you're in such a defiant mood today but your mouth moves way faster than your thoughts. "Yeah, Kate was too busy today."

You don't see the scarlet that begins to overtake her eyes since you have your back to her. You miss the warning signs until she uses her magic to bend you over the counter, keeping your hands behind your back.

"You're going to regret talking to me like that," she says, holding you down easily thanks to her magic.

It's obvious you should apologize and yet you remain as composed as you possibly can given the situation. As stupid as it is, you're still mad at her for putting you in this situation.

Out of the two of you, she was the one who was in the wrong. She was the one fucking up her relationship just because she was upset with her girlfriend. And she had the audacity to pull you down with her.

To make you like it.

You couldn't place all the blame on her and yet you did it anyway. As if that would somehow fix the entire situation.

Her hand comes down on your ass before you can make your predicament worse. The sudden sensation makes you jump, the leftover sting taking over your mind.

"Wanda." Your attempt to sound mad falls completely flat since your voice is far too breathless for it to be convincing.

She spanks you again. Once. Twice. Each time striking both harder and faster.

"Try again, detka," she tells you, her voice unforgiving. "And then maybe, I'll go easy on you."

She won't.

You know she won't. But the idea that she could is more than tantalizing enough.

Although, then again, it wasn't like you didn't enjoy calling her by her beloved title.

"Mommy," you whisper, your voice sounding way too loud in the empty kitchen.

You don't need to be looking at her to see the proud grin that takes over her features.

This is the real reason why she wants you. Why she likes being with you. Because she doesn't need to fight you to get you to submit to her every whim.

"Good girl." Wanda's hands toy with the waistband of your pants. "Tell me what you want."

You allow the silence to drag on for a second longer than necessary. You both know you won't deny her, you can't, but that doesn't mean you can't keep her guessing.

Maybe then she'll grow tired of you and stop using you so carelessly.

"Want you to touch me...please, mommy."

You half expect her to drag the moment out until you can't hold yourself back from begging for more. For her.

She doesn't, though, because unbeknownst to you, she's playing a different kind of game with you today.

Wanda uses her powers to undress you, barely giving you a second to register just how vulnerable she's leaving you. You know no one will walk in on you two, she promised you that much, but that doesn't make it any less scary...and thrilling.

"Look at you," she coos, her fingers spreading your slick folds. "So wet and I've barely even touched you. Such a needy thing, aren't you, sweetheart?"

It's embarrassing how hard your walls clench around pure air from the mere tone of her voice. It's that intoxicating mix between degrading and sweet that you want everything she's willing to give you.

"Yes, mommy," you whimper.

"Oh, I know," she says, pushing the tip of her index finger into your tight cunt. "She's such a good girl, isn't she?"

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but her powers hold you down and stop you from turning to look at her. Your question is answered before you can even ask it, though, as a certain pair of black boots make their way into your field of vision.

"I'm not sure." The sound of Natasha's voice sends a shiver down her spine. "She looks like a desperate slut to me."

Wanda stops you from answering, thanks to her powers. "Oh, come on, Nat, don't be mean. Look how eager she is to be played with."

The redhead rolls her eyes. "That just proves my point."

The witch laughs, taking the moment to sink her finger deeper into your pussy, relishing the wet sounds that fill the kitchen. You're more than a little humiliated, but there's nothing you can do to stop it. Worse, there's nothing you can do to deny how wet the situation is making you.

How desperate you are for more.

Wanda knows. Of course, she knows. It's partly because of her powers and partly because she knows your body far too well. And because she knows you so well, she gives you a chance to call the whole thing off before it even truly starts.

"What's your color, y/n?"

It would be so easy to say "red" and stop everything. You know there would be zero judgement. That despite whatever agreement they've come to, they'd both take a step back and make sure you were okay.

And yet...you can't seem to form the word.

Because, as much as you don't want to admit it...you want this.

"Green..." you whisper.

Wanda leans in, taking your mind off of Natasha's eyes on you, and peppers soft kisses across your back. The softness of her lips is a stark contrast to her previous demeanor and it helps calm down your speeding nerves.

The Russian steps forward, her hand cupping your face and gently tilting it backward until your eyes meet. "You want this, don't you, darling?"

You don't want to admit it but you can't bring yourself to lie to her. "Yes...I want this."

The sharpness in her eyes fades away slightly. There's still an edge of annoyance in her features but she looks almost as turned on as you feel. "Good girl."

Your walls clench around Wanda's finger and she chuckles before starting to move in and out of your tight heat. "I think she likes you, Nat."

"Shut up."

Wanda adds another finger into the mix, expertly stretching you out and drawing out a long moan from your parted lips. "That's it, just give in, sweetheart. Doesn't it feel better when you stop thinking so much?"

It's startling how right she is.

She doesn't wait for an answer this time, though, she simply speeds up her movements, curling her fingers in the way that drives you crazy. The pleasure slowly overwhelms your mind, removing all other thoughts until all you can focus on is how good it all feels. How much you like submitting to them like this.

"Mommy..." You whine, watching the way Natasha's eyes darken in response to your sounds. "Please...need more."

"Aw, are two fingers not enough for you, baby?" The fake pity in her tone turns you on more than it should. "Does your greedy pussy need more?"

You nod desperately, ignoring the humiliation that lingers in your every move.

All that earns you is another laugh from Wanda and an eye roll from Natasha.

The redhead steps back from you, causing you to whimper, before her hands move to her belt. Her eyes remain on yours as she starts removing her garments, slowly revealing the red strap-on resting between her legs.

Your lips part almost instantly once you catch sight of the full size of it and just how incredibly dominant it makes Natasha look. You shouldn't be surprised considering what everyone, including Wanda, always say about her. Then again, seeing is believing.

"So fucking eager, aren't you?" You know the Russian is technically making fun of you, but you can't help feeling a bit proud of yourself for the grin on her face.

She steps forward, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair and guide you forward. There's something weirdly soft about her movements, about the way she takes her time with you. Maybe, just maybe, she likes you more than she's let on.

You wrap your lips around the head of the dildo, your eyes glued to Natasha's face. You can see the flecks of pleasure spreading across her features, the way she clenches her jaw to stop herself from vocalizing it. It's like you're stuck in a far too arousing competition with her. Each of you trying your damn harderst to break the other.

Unfortunately for you, you also have Wanda working behind you, her fingers restlessly pumping in and out of your soaked entrance. She knows exactly how to wind you up.

Exactly how to keep you on your toes yet wanting more.

Natasha guides you further down her cock, working the length deeper into your mouth. "You look so much better like this, malyshka."

"I told you," Wanda pipes up, choosing that exact moment to work another finger into your tight heat. "You just wanted to be a party pooper."

"Keep talking like that and you'll be next, Maximoff."

"You're no fun."

You've never heard Wanda like this. So pouty and borderline bratty. It's a stark contrast to the dominant woman you've grown so attached to. To the one that turns your brain to putty with just a few words.

"Don't get any ideas, sweetheart. Mommy's still in charge here."

You moan in response, the sound muffled by the dildo currently stuffing your mouth.

"If you're Mommy," Natasha says, starting to thrust into your mouth. "Does that make me Daddy?"

You try to voice your approval for the title but neither of the women pay attention to you. They just keep talking like you're not even there, like all you are is a toy for them to play with.

"I thought you didn't like being called that."

The redhead shrugs in response. "I don't but now I'm curious."

"I think our good girl would like it."

You wait for Natasha to complain and say something about how you aren't theirs. Maybe make fun of you again for even thinking they'd ever entertain that idea.

She doesn't, though.

All she does is double her efforts as she keeps thrusting into your mouth.

The kitchen fills with the sounds of your pleasure as they both play with your needy holes.

You feel yourself growing closer and closer to the edge, the coil in your stomach getting tighter with each one of their well-timed thrusts. You're completely at their mercy and you love every second of their never-ending show of dominance.

Of control over you.

Wanda's movements speed up and you do your best to ask for permission to cum, knowing all too well the consequences that would await you if you forgot. It's practically impossible to speak, though, considering the way Natasha is still thrusting into your mouth, her hips grinding against the base of the dildo each time she slips the length back inside.

"I know, baby," the witch reassures you. "You want to cum so bad, don't you?"

All she gets is a muffled whine in response, your body jerking forward when her thumb teases your swollen clit.

"Go ahead, darling," Natasha speaks up, her voice practically a low growl. "Cum all over Mommy's fingers for me."

You're not used to receiving such a command from the redhead and yet your body reacts immediatly to her tone. Your whole body seems to come alive as you fall over the edge, Wanda's fingers never ceasing in their movements. She expertly draws out your pleasure until you're left shaking and panting.

The ringing in your ears doesn't allow you to hear the string of moans that leave Natasha's mouth as she watches the scene. The sight of you coming undone so violently causes her to fall apart, her fingers tightening in your hair until you're sputtering for air.

Thankfully, Wanda knows your limits well.

No words are exchanged as she uses her magic on you again. You're barely coherent, your mind still too muddled by pure pleasure and the cotton-filled haze of submission.

She gently sets you down on the couch, wiping down your soaked skin with a wet cloth, making sure to look you over in case their rough movements bruised you up.

"You okay, darling?" The witch asks as she settles down next to you.

You nod in response, shifting a little until your head rests in her lap. "Yeah...just tired."

"You should get some rest, detka. We have a lot to talk about."

Her words make you laugh. "That's an understament, Wands."

"Whatever." She moves her hand down to run her fingers through your hair, gently scratching your scalp as sleep overcomes you.

There's a lot you don't understand, a lot you really figure out, but you feel safe with the knowledge that you haven't ruined anything. That you're not an intruder in their relationship. If anything, you're a welcome addition.

#wandanat x reader #kinktober 2024 #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #mommy wanda #avengers fanfiction #marvel fic #mcu imagine #wlw fic #writing

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hannieween · 8 months ago

Text

ladies' night | wicked games series | k.mg

Kim Mingyu came into your life at a time when you needed a friend the most. And that he was: a friend that you could confide in and laugh together, share your secrets with and perhaps, share a burden that was too similar to his.

☆ pairings: kim mingyu x female reader ☆ genre: angst, smut [18+] ☆ aus: bartender mingyu, friends to rebound fucking, fwb to lovers (attempt at a slow burn) ☆ word count: 16k

› read more

› warnings under the cut

☆ warnings: alcohol consumption, smut with plot, sub mingyu, soft dom reader, pussy drunk mingyu, manhandling, mingyu is low key a simp, reader is so down bad for him it is embarrassing, reader is on birth control, both mingyu and reader are lowkey toxic, size kink, big dick mingyu, use of sex toys, squirting, masturbation, foul language, dirty talking, lots of making out, reader has a bit of difficulty reaching her high, a bit of dry humping, oral sex (f. receiving), body worshipping, cowgirl, edging, unprotected p in v sex, creampies, aftercare. pet names: baby, shorty, pretty, (hers)

☆ acknowledgements: first things first! big thanks to @nonuify who suggested the title for the series! thanks to @onlymingyus who suggested a cute pet name for reader (that is, sugar which will come in the future), @miniseokminnies, @bitchlessdino and @wonustars for helping brainstorming for ideas hehe ty ty 🩵

also thanks to vee and @wooahaeproductions who helped me proofread this 🩵

☆ author's note: helloooooo! welcome to the hannieverse! where every single fic i've written is connected somehow! this series is closely connected to heartbreaker. though i don't think it is necessary to read that one in order to read this one here, but if you haven't read that one yet, be my guest hehe

☆ author's note 2: we have another reader self-insert!! i wish i could start self-inserting the things that are actually nice about my life... and not angst, bad sleeping habits and heartbreak (┬┬﹏┬┬) anyway, i hope you all enjoy this one

☆ disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please or i will block you.

ladies' night

Lately, work had become your second home.

Not by choice, no. It was a thing that you forced into your life to keep yourself busy. Running a business was not easy, but you had reached a point in your life where you no longer needed to work 16 hours a day. Now, you felt like you needed to be working all day long. Or else, you would go insane.

Routine. You swore by it. Wake up, get ready, go to work, traffic, clock off, more traffic, come back home, sleep, repeat.

You could make time for yourself. But there was nothing else to dedicate your time to.

Coming back to a half-packed apartment was quite discouraging. Boxes piled up. The furniture you worked so hard to buy, gone, sold. You did not even bother to turn on the light, you had memorized your way through the maze of cardboard boxes.

Maybe I should get a dog.

The keys hanging from your fingers jingled as you reached your bedroom, tossing them on the nightstand to begin undressing yourself and getting ready to sleep.

There was a row of neatly folded clothes occupying one side of the bed, clothes that were ready to be packed away. Or donated. Whatever you wanted to do the following day.

You finished peeling off the last piece of clothing from your body, neatly disposing of it in the hamper, and dragged yourself to do your nightly skincare routine.

The biggest, and probably recurring challenge you had to get through was going to sleep. You faced your bed, half covered by small towers of folded clothes making you feel a deafening agony that you could not get rid of.

You set your phone on the side table before commanding yourself to sit on the bed, your back to the piles of clothes. You had to purposefully ignore your phone before going to bed if you wanted to get an interrupted sleep.

Lying on your pillow, you stared at the ceiling, your arms sticking to your torso, fingers curled on the bedcovers. The part you dreaded the most.

You closed your eyes, avoiding every thought completely. It was a difficult feat, it was impossible.

Slowly, and tentatively, you slid a hand beneath the bed sheets, reaching out to your side, feeling the weight of the piles of clothes pressing down on your arm. The side of the bed would remain empty, and you never dared to sleep on that side.

The side where your former partner used to sleep.

A part of you itched to grab your phone. What was the point, you concluded, retreating your hand and sticking it to your body again. There was no point in trying to reimagine a life in which you had not asked your ex to leave. There was no point in wanting someone that left you feeling so empty.

Maybe I should sell the bed too.

You stared at the ceiling once again, your gaze outlining the four margins of the bedroom. Whenever the night got bad, you would do this, over and over, until everything faded to black Until you fell asleep.

You woke up before your alarm went off.

It took you some moments to realize that you did not have to go to work that day. A heavy reluctance fell upon you, making it harder to drag yourself out of the bed you were planning to sell the night before.

You brushed the thought off. Okay.

You were okay. You were going to be even better.

The morning was bleak, the pale light making you squint your eyes as soon as you drew the blinds up. But you started working at once. The first task was putting the clothes in boxes, emptying space on the bed.

You wasted no time, removing the covers and the bed sheets without much thought. You did not want to think that even though you washed the pillowcases, you could still smell your ex's cologne in them. You did not want to think back to the time you bought the bed sheets with him when you moved in together.

It was too late.

Crushed, you closed the moving boxes, moving them into neat piles. The silence was nearly deafening.

You sat on the bed and waited.

The doorbell rang. People came in and stuffed a van full of all of the boxes and the bed. When it was time to go, you took one look at the place you swore you would live with the love of your life for a long while and closed the door behind you.

Three months later.

Your old routine started to tear you down. A silent killer, slowly destroying bits and pieces of your already fragile state. You were too slow or too ignorant to see it, but in protecting your precious routine, you were destroying yourself.

First, it was your sleep. Then, it was your closest friendships. Then, you could no longer pay attention at work. You were tired, and alone.

Enough is enough, you told yourself sternly.

You decided to do new things. Explore a bit more, distract yourself, pamper yourself. Watch a new show someone recommended to you ages ago, or actually read one of the books you bought and forgot.

Living in a new part of town should not be this challenging.

You knew every single corner of the neighborhood, yet you knew no one. And living in a city so vast and so populated demanded you to do activities in the company of someone.

Part of running your own business meant that you could manage your own time. That you did, shaving some hours off of your heavy and self-inflicted work schedule and taking some time for yourself.

The first thing you did was go shopping since it could be one activity you could do by yourself. And it was distracting. You went back home, and read that book.

Maybe I could put on this show while I unpack.

Some things were still kept in boxes from when you moved into the new apartment. Mainly those with stuff you did not require immediately. Clutter. Mostly bought by you to make your other apartment feel more lived in.

Time went by and you finished watching that show. You finished reading through the pile of books you got ages ago. You bought new clothes, and got rid of those that once occupied your ex's side of the bed.

You were slowly becoming someone else.

Waking up to a new reality happens in an instant. In the middle of the day. In the middle of traffic. It is realizing that in the past you is no longer present, and you need to become someone else to fit into that reality.

At least, that was how it felt.

The red light turned green, and you pushed yourself through the traffic slowly. Maybe I should sell the car. You turned left, driving past the badly lit gym that stood on the corner, its uninviting neon purple and red lights outside.

Abruptly, you pulled up. Grabbing your purse, getting out of your car and meekly pushed open the door to the place. The myriads of different noises startled you at first. The very loud speakers mounted on every corner, the clanking of the heavy weights hitting the floor, planks hitting each other, and the occasional loud grunting of men.

The person wearing the staff uniform greeted you. The young man, though seemingly your age, looked at you up and down with bright doe eyes.

“Hi,” he nodded politely, showing you a smile adorned by a couple of ring piercings. “Welcome! How can I help you?”

The question seemed to drive a dry joke in your mind, but you paid no attention to it. “I want to register.”

His expression broke in a downturned smile, almost as if this were a quick reflex of his. You realized then, you were being quite dry.

“Please,” you added two seconds later.

“Sure,” he smiled, recovering from the awkward exchange without issue. “Follow me.”

The gym was packed, it got hotter the more you entered the place. The guy wearing the staff uniform appeared to be quite the popular person around, waving at gym goers left and right with great attitude.

You thought of mentioning it but, you just kept walking behind him to an office room secluded in one of the corners. He turned on the light and went around the small desk, sitting down on the battered office chair with a heavy sigh.

“Okay, first things first,” he turned on the chair to one side, showing you with his hand to a table pushed to the corner of the office, an old coffee maker huffed as it finished brewing. “Coffee?”

You looked at the coffee machine, and then to him. An eyebrow lifted.

“It's Thursday,” he shrugged. “We serve coffee every Thursday.”

You huffed, a small smile appearing on your face. “And on Fridays?”

“Ah! Do not get ahead of yourself. Maybe we can find that out tomorrow, miss...?” he pushed his eyebrows up, pulled one pen from the pencil case, and clicked it on, ready to fill out a form.

You fought the urge to laugh in his face, the awkwardness from the whole situation making your tummy feel uneasy.

You sat down on the chair, robbing the pen from his tattooed fingers. His doe eyes snapped open in surprise when you pulled the form from under his hand and started filling it out.

“Tell me prices,” you muttered, eyes focused on filling out the form, so you did not get the chance to see him smile when he let out a small breath.

“Well, that didn't go to plan,” he whispered to himself, seemingly.

Cute.

“Has it ever?”

You darted a look at him through your lashes. The guy had his eyes slightly widened, probably not expecting you to strike up a conversation of this type.

“Uh, well, yeah, but,” he stammered, like a deer in the headlights. “Only when I don’t mean it to,” he smiled sheepishly, bringing a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

“Well, then, I suppose that you can give me your name so I can give you mine,” you offered, though amicably. You finished writing on the form, putting the pen down.

“Jungkook,” he nodded his head politely. “Jeon Jungkook, miss.”

You smiled at him and told him your name, pushing the form to him on the desk.

Jungkook read the details you penned on the form intently, his lips softly mouthing each word, and then he turned to the old computer sitting on one side of the desk. But then, he shook his head swiftly. “Shit, yeah. Right,” he hissed. “Prices,” he turned to you.

“You know what,” you blurted, heartbeat racing when you pulled out your card from your purse. “Just sign me up.”

“Okay,” he nodded once again, his smile growing into a more content one, leaving the shyness behind. “Welcome to Casa Pump House,” he announced proudly.

His whole face had lit up, even his eyes seemed to glimmer under the pale overhead lights. The pause that followed told you that he was expecting you to match his energy, to smile, to say something.

A stiff smile stretched the features of your face, you nodded back at him. “Thank you,” you said. However, what he did not know was that the last thing you wanted to get out of your registration to the gym was working out.

You just needed another distraction.

The man stood up at the same time you did. “Let me show you around,” he said, demeanor completely changed. He seemed nervous now.

“Oh, is it okay if we leave that for tomorrow?” you asked, suddenly feeling out of place in your work clothes.

His mouth hung open for a brief moment. “Sure,” he replied. “Of course. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you echoed, walking out of his office promptly. “Thank you, Jeon!”

You rushed through the rows of all types of machines. The noise from the heavyweights clashing together, the loud music coming from the overhead speakers, and the noises coming from men, exhaling, grunting, and such had you taking a deep breath when you came out of the place.

The night was cold, slightly damp from the mid-summer breeze. It was a stark difference from the humidity inside Casa Pump House.

You snorted. I should learn to ignore my impulsive thoughts.

You found your car, unlocking the doors. But a flashing thought overwhelmed you even more: having to sit through yet another thirty minutes of traffic, alone with your thoughts.

Turning your back from your car, you locked the doors once again, walking down the street. It could be a Thursday night when your usual would be heading home and sleeping. But the city was very much coming alive with nightlife activities.

People were walking close together, laughing, chatting, or looking at their phones. All of them had somewhere to go, somewhere they were being waited for.

Two girls holding hands walked past you, they were giggling, talking about some innocuous thing, but it caught your attention, they were pretty and looked happy.

They stopped in front of an establishment that was clearly a bar. Namely The Spot, in big neon red letters and pushed inside the place, which was booming with loud music, and the buzzing from the people crowding the place.

Once again, you sighed.

Impulsivities.

You were not exactly a drinker. But as soon as you crossed the door, you realized that the place was the answer to your every prayer. Well, no. Not quite. But close.

The place was dark, only lit by neon signs and low-hanging lamps. A cacophony of various things filled your ears: the sound of music, paired with the chattering of the crowd, the billiards in the distance clashing with everything too.

The good part was that no one paid attention to you. You quietly and inconspicuously slid on one of the high-top chairs at the lacquered bar, being approached by a girl a second later to take your order.

“Can I have a coke, please?” raising your voice over the loud speakers made your heartbeat race. You rarely ever did such a thing lately, it felt weird to do something like that again.

The girl nodded and in seconds, she slid the can of coke and a glass with ice in it in front of you.

You were glad that you were not met with concern when you ordered a coke at a bar. But then you realized that no one cared.

The place was packed with mostly women, you realized as you familiarized yourself with its adorned walls and black and white checkered floors. The bar top held a chalkboard that explained it in neat handwriting: ladies' night, buy one get one free.

“Does it apply for non-alcoholic drinks too?” you asked the girl tending the bar.

She shook her head no. “But this one is on me,” she winked at you in a friendly way, when you sent her a questioning look, she just shrugged: “You look like you need it.”

Then the girl turned and continued working, tending to other orders in the bar quite skillfully. You wondered if you announced your sadness just by walking into the place, and people noticed. Or was it that being alone in a ladies' night instantly meant that you were going through a rough time?

You need new friends.

When you broke up with your ex, you hid from the world that revolved around you as a couple. The friends you shared, the places you used to go with him, the activities you liked doing with him… It all got shoved into a drawer at the back of your mind.

So now, you felt like coming back to life. Essentially, you were finding yourself after the pain of a heartbreak. The reason behind all your most recent life's decisions.

You would never go to bars alone, for instance.

Not that you did not enjoy a drink. You did. Though during the time with your ex-partner, it was a true rarity for you to go out and drink.

So being in a bar, on a Thursday was something you had not done in years.

It was quite overwhelming. The buzzing noise, the loud music, the clanking of glass and billiards, the booming laughter and chattering...

The mood was low, dimly lit in red neon lights, the noise seemed to die down upon laying eyes on the tall man going behind the bar, passing in front of you and blocking the sight of the huge neon red sign that read, HEARTBREAKER. The contrasting light against his tall frame made him alluring, you could not help but stare.

However, your trance was cut short. He might have sensed your eyes glued to him because his zeroed on your face, unsuspecting at first. You realized instead, you know this man, the thought fell heavily in your mind, settling in the pit of your tummy.

The dark eyes glinted with recognition, the corner of his lips rising to uncover the predominant fangs as he smiled politely at you.

Kim Mingyu took one step towards the spot you were sitting in, the smile fading at once as you jumped from your stool, swiftly slipping through the door and out of the bar altogether.

Once out, you released a puffy breath. Did you just run away from Kim Mingyu?

“But did he recognize you?” your best friend from college, Mona, asked. She toyed with the tail of a cherry, dragging it on the foamy surface of her pina colada.

“I don’t know,” you squished your cheek on your palm as you propped your elbow on the table. “I didn’t stick around to find out. I don’t think he did, though.”

“Are you sure about that?” she mused.

“I’ve changed a lot, Mona,” you explained, though pointlessly since your best friend already knew what you meant. “I’m not the same kid I was when I was seventeen.”

“True. So why did you run?” she asked, blowing a puffy air up her fringe to keep it off her long eyelashes.

“It was some sort of impulse,” you tried to explain but the truth was, you did not even know the answer to that question. Hence why you resorted to call in for a meeting with the person that knew you the most.

Though it was not a meeting. You had already set a date for you to meet with your best friend long before you found out that Kim Mingyu worked at the bar around the corner of your apartment.

It had been long since you saw your best friend, partly because you kept coming up with excuses to not meet with her.

“I think,” he started, now popping the cherry in her mouth. “That you have been so buried in your own shit that you’ve started to forget how to socialize.”

You coughed up a chuckle. “Right,” you said dismissively. “And what is your recommendation, doc?”

“You should return to the bar,” she shrugged. “You have been hiding for too long. It’s time you go out more, meet new people.”

Her dark eyes bore into your face. You could feel your own pulse in your tummy. “I know,” you confessed with a strangled tone. “I’ve gotten better. I no longer think about him, you know?”

This was the reason why you had been dodging your best friend’s calls. Or cancelling plans at the last minute. This conversation was one you had been putting off for far to long but could no longer keep inside you.

“Good,” she sighed with relief, her heart-shaped face lit up with a kindness that warmed you up. “And how do you feel?”

“I feel… I used to feel angry. At him. For failing his promise to me,” you pursed your lips, swallowing hard as your voice dropped. “But now I just feel like I’m letting it go. I think that things had to happen like that for a reason.”

“He did you a kindness,” she nodded with a wise expression on her face.

You huffed. Kindness is not the word you would use. In fact, you could not come up with words to use to describe what he did to you.

“Seriously,” she insisted, straightening on her seat. “Imagine you got married! Then you would have been a loser’s wife!”

That elicited a genuine chuckle out of you. “True.”

“Not only that, but you would’ve also gotten divorced. Or who knows. But he spared you the pity of being married to him, divorcing him, or having children with his sorry ass.”

You pondered over her words for a second. Mona was there for you when you broke up with your ex. She was the first person to know the news, dropped everything to be at your doorstep within the hour of that happening.

You were grateful for Mona in more ways than one. She gave you space to grieve when you needed it. You did not even have to say it.

“So, are you going back to that bar some time soon?” she pried, leaving the tail of the cherry on her napkin, a knot neatly tied in the middle.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I chickened out. I think he did see me, and I don’t want to leave that impression.”

“Do you need back up?” she threw you a cheeky look.

Oh, she knows.

“No, I think I got it,” you reassured. “I’ll just pop in, say hi and that’s it.”

Sundays were the worst for you.

The bustling noise from the bar drowned out the heavy thumping of your heart. Keeping your head down, your eyes darted forth and then down to the glass you kept twirling with your fingers on top of the lacquered, pristine bar top.

Kim Mingyu was busy that night. Prancing side to side behind the bar, a white dishcloth resting on his shoulder. He went to pick up a new order, yanking it from the small printer and pretending to read it.

His chocolate brown eyes lifted, locking on you. With a nervous jolt in your chest, you looked at your hands again, grabbing your phone to hopefully distract yourself from the awkward but swift exchange.

“I know you.”

You drew in a breath, jolting so hard that somehow your hands pushed your drink, making some of it spill on the polished surface. “God,” you exhaled in both embarrassment and surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kim Mingyu blurted, grabbing the cloth from this shoulder and pressing it on the spilled drink. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you like that.”

“No, it’s okay,” you blurted, equally nervous as him. “You caught me off guard.”

“You know what they say,” he said, pressing his lips into a smile and discarding the cloth elsewhere, setting the palms of his hands on the edge of the bar top. “People with naughty thoughts in their heads get scared easily.”

“Nobody says that,” you raised your eyes from his hands to meet his face, his smile had grown, showing now the beautiful fangs that crowned it.

“I'm pretty sure I’ve heard it before somewhere,” he tilted his head to one side.

“Or maybe you just made it up,” you arched one eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he conceded, biting his lower lip to try and hide his shy smile.

A wave of warm embarrassment washed over your face, but you found yourself smiling at the man. “It’s been a long time.”

“So you do remember me.”

“Of course I do,” you replied with a meek smile burning your cheeks.

“Then why didn't you just say hi?” he replied with some faux indignation, pursing his lips into a pout. “I thought you hadn’t recognized me and that’s why you freaked out and left.”

“You didn't say hi either,” you shrugged, shaking your head lightly when you realized it was a bad excuse. “And it hasn’t been that many years, Mingyu,” you giggled. “Of course I remember you.”

The low chuckle that came from him ignited many memories from the past. “Really? Haven’t I changed? Not even a little?”

You rolled your eyes. The very last memories you had from Kim Mingyu were when you were still in high school. Even after many years, he kept the kind smile and bright eyes, the dark long hair. The only different thing about him was that he looked huge now.

He crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your answer. It was funny to you that even when his biceps bulged beneath his black t-shirt impressively, the starry eyes brought that boyish charm he has always had.

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “Still the same.”

“But you have changed,” he remarked, nodding his head once. You blinked at him dumbly, so he just added: “Your hair is longer. Braces are gone.”

You let out a chuckle, enjoying how the features of his face went lax at the sound of your laughter, much as if he were holding in a breath until the moment that he made you laugh.

“Spot on,” you mumbled awkwardly, grabbing your empty glass.

It was totally the opposite, though. You feel like you had lost half of your younger self when you entered your twenties. The baby fat from your face was long gone, your skin was leagues better after the brutal hormonal changes. And your body of course was not the same… there were some improvements.

“Sorry, let me refill that for you,” he quickly got to work, pulling out a new glass, filling it back up, and with one move, he slipped it into your hand. “One whisky sour.”

“Thanks,” you pressed your lips in a shy smile.

You watched as he parted his lips, pausing for a second before speaking out, until another voice, a powerful one, boomed from across the bar.

“Kim Mingyu! Get to work!”

He straightened up as if mentally being whipped by the firmness of the command. The man who called was leaning back against a pool table, arms crossed on his chest. But instead of wearing a frown on his face, there was a broad smile in it.

“Ah! Shit, I’m sorry,” he replied in a nervous stammer, wincing when the man handling the bar alongside him slapped him on one shoulder.

“Focus, Min,” the guy who slapped him playfully smiled in a mischievous way, directing a swift glance at you and pursed his lips to keep himself from smiling any wider.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he repeated, shooting an annoyed look at the guy and rolled his eyes at him. “I thought you had it for a minute.”

“Yeah, I did,” he shrugged. “But you don’t get paid to flirt. Plus, boss is watching,” the man pressed his lips into a sly smile.

“I’m not flirting–hyung,” Mingyu widened his eyes, gritting: “She is a friend.”

“Hi,” you raised one hand at the pair of bartenders, waving at them. “I’m a friend.”

“Oops, I’m sorry,” the tall man adjusted the watch sitting on his wrist before waving back at you. “Jeon Wonwoo. Also a friend.”

“Flatmate,” Mingyu gibed with faux dismissal.

“So I’m not your friend anymore?” Wonwoo clicked his tongue, raising his eyebrows. “Good luck with flirting again on the clock without having boss complaining.”

“I wasn’t flirting!” Mingyu whined, grabbing the upcoming order expelled by the little printer behind him.

“Since I’ve been downgraded to just being a flatmate, I’m going to take a break,” he announced with an overly dramatic tone of indignation.

Mingyu’s jaw dropped in a sign of it being unjust. “Hyung!”

“I trust you can handle the bar on your own?” Wonwoo said, undoing the knot tying his waist apron that was previously wrapping him from the waist and left through the back door.

“Tsk,” Mingyu huffed, but then, despite his situation, he smiled widely. “I’m sorry about that,” he offered you a kind look. “He’s just teasing me. Please don’t mind him.”

“It seems like all of your co-workers like teasing you,” you pointed meekly, darting a look towards the other two people standing over the end of the bar.

Mingyu shot a look back, finding the girl that had welcomed you some nights ago, standing beside a tall man of pale blond hair. Both exchanged a smile, looking giddy.

“Tsk, aah,” Mingyu shook his head, and the couple laughed. “Don’t mind them,” he pleaded, resuming to focus back on his work, though part of you assumed that he was too embarrassed to face you.

So, you watched as he busied himself taking orders, handing them out to the pretty girl tending the tables. You continued sipping on your drink, distractedly looking at your phone and sending him glances, noticing that he too was looking at you. Every now and then, he would just shake his head at her in disapproval, which she ignored with a wide smile on her face.

Whenever he tried to stop in front of you to chat, he would be quickly swept away by a new order, or someone would call his name, and he would excuse himself with a quiet apology and a shy smile.

Later, the man that introduced himself to you as Jeon Wonwoo returned to the bar, slapping Mingyu on the shoulder to draw his attention. They exchanged some words, Mingyu looked aback for a second and the other pouted, mouthing: “I don’t know,” and shrugging with ease.

“Hey,” Mingyu came to you after thanking his friend. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Eh?” you tilted your head to one side, the question making your stomach drop.

“So we can catch up,” Mingyu let out a sweet giggle, realizing how his question sounded. “I’m getting kicked out for the night.”

Your eyes widened in bewilderment. “Oh, Mingyu, I’m sorry, that is not what–,”

“Relax,” he sighed. “My flatmate is covering me. He owed me one.”

“Oh,” you blurted. In that case…

“It’s been a while.”

Mingyu hummed thoughtfully, casting a look at the night sky. “Uh, eleven–ten, ten years?” he calculated.

You were exiting the bar, walking down the side of the street after you told him you were just gearing up to head home already, and he kindly offered to walk you home. “Yep. Ten years.”

“Wow,” he sighed. “We’re getting old.”

You braced yourself for one of those talks. As you entered the second half of your twenties, things got a little awkward for you. Once you would think they were stuff of fiction, something you would only see in romantic comedies or in tv shows: characters see the people surrounding their lives getting married, going on dates, honeymoons, having children while they remain a perpetual loner.

Now, you could not relate to that more.

But Mingyu was a person who did not care for those things. Even when you were both seventeen. He did not care for material things, or superficial things.

“Yeah. A little.”

You drew in a breath through your nose. The night was cold, and you could tell in the summer’s breeze that it would rain later.

“I saw that you went in that fancy college,” he mentioned and then laughed. “And then you disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“Yeaaah,” you mumbled awkwardly. “I sort off eliminated all of my social media,” you frowned, remembering the reason why you had done that.

“I get it, it’s exhausting,” he shrugged.

“Did you go into that fancy college?” you returned, remembering Mingyu in those days in which he used to talk about the future, whenever you went out with your friend group. You remembered thinking that he had a bright future ahead of him whenever he would talk about studying mechanical engineering.

“Nah,” he clicked his tongue. “I quit those plans once I started working and making money. So, I’m not a mechanical engineer,” he let out a lazy giggle.

“Mmn,” you nodded. “Yeah, that happens. I’m not a graphic designer.”

“Why?” he frowned. “That’s all you talked about with your friends!”

You looked at him, perplexed to know that Kim Mingyu ever paid attention to you. Within your friend group, you were the least he had in common with. So even when you crossed paths, you never talked to each other aside from small friendly stuff.

“I started working as a translator… Started making money,” you sent him a knowing look.

“Yeah, I get it,” he chuckled. “But do you enjoy it at least?”

“Of course,” you smiled, though you could not ignore the way that your heartbeat faltered. “I work independently, though I do rent an office not far from here actually…” you said, pointing to the street where you were about to turn.

“Nice! I live in the area too, so maybe we’ll run into each other one day,” he mentioned.

“It’s nice to know I have a friendly neighbor,” you smiled. “I just moved here.”

“Oh, then let me show you around some day!” his eyes lit up. “There are a ton of places you probably don’t know of, like the bakery on the next alley, or the coffee shop right next to it, they serve really good breakfasts.”

“That would be nice,” you grinned.

Mingyu showed you a toothy grin, pausing in his step so you could catch up to him since he moved faster than you.

“Hey, about what happened back at the bar,” he motioned a finger to the bar. “I’m sorry about that. My friends can be a bit of dickheads.”

“No, it’s alright, I get it,” you shrugged. “A bit of in-work bantering can lighten up the shift sometimes,” you put simply.

“That and the fact that they have been teasing me for a while now. They try hard to distract me,” he rolled his eyes. But realizing how he came off, he added. “I had a nasty breakup not too long ago. It’s like they think I’m going to break soon. It’s annoying.”

“Can I ask how it happened?” you wondered, feeling your heartbeat falter when you finish uttering the words to a question that perhaps, might be too daring.

Kim Mingyu dug his hands in the pockets of his black denim jeans, sucking in a breath between his teeth. He pushed his shoulders up, that was when you noticed that the chill in the summer air was finally starting the get to him.

“She got into a new job,” he started, his eyes set far ahead on the way in front of you. “At the beginning, I thought that she was just happy from getting her big job. But then, she started saying things.”

As you walked beside him, you tried to keep your eyes trained on the tall man, but then he blinked rapidly, dropping his puppy eyes to his feet.

“She'd say things about my job,” he swallowed hard, and you could almost feel the pain he felt upon remembering. “I thought nothing of it at first, thought she was encouraging me to get a job with higher pay but...”

You nodded, and he sent you a glance in understanding. He did not need to say more about it, and he probably did not want to repeat the hurtful comments.

“And then,” he continued, and his tone dropped: “She started talking about her boss.”

He shook his head silently and exhaled through his nose, lifting his gaze up to the night sky.

“Time passed and the comments got meaner, she started ghosting me and I thought of breaking things off,” he swallowed hard once again, as if trying to mask his pain with it. “I got a call one day from a friend, telling me they saw her entering a restaurant with another man,” you saw him turn his hands into fists inside his pockets. “I guess she forgot that I had the day off that day, so she never thought I'd be waiting for her outside her apartment.”

“Did she...” you blurted out, your heart palpitating in your ears. You braced yourself to hear it, because you knew from before that his pain and yours were too alike.

“Yeah,” he croaked, blinking for a long second. “For weeks.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” you covered your mouth with one hand. “I'm sorry, Mingyu.”

“I'm alright,” he shrugged once more, nodding as if to himself. “I think I'm grateful for her mean attitude towards me because in a way she softened the blow, but it still hurts.”

“I know,” you conceded. “It isn’t easy.”

However, you were raging inside. Some nights, the worst ones, you wonder what you did wrong to deserve everything that your ex did to you. The broken promises, the lies, the ghosting, your trust being brutally shattered.

“The worst thing is the shame,” he sent a glance at you, dragging his foot on the concrete to kick one rock that stood in the way of the park.

You nodded in silence.

“I never told my friends,” he confessed, his eyes were outlining the tree branches. “When it happened, I just told them that she was the one who broke up with me... I've never told them the truth.”

“You are not obligated to,” you muttered, a cold shudder added to your already chilled body making you pause.

“I just couldn't do it,” he muttered. “And the reason isn’t to protect her image, though at the beginning I thought it was… I just don’t want to the pity.”

You crossed your arms close to your chest. “And how are you now?”

“I’m okay,” he said with a reassuring tone. “I like to think that I’ve let it go already.”

Something made your tummy twist. You were familiar with the feeling, but decided not to mention it, since you felt that your past with your ex was no longer relevant.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu said.

You frowned at him. “What for?”

“For dumping all of this on you, I shouldn’t have done that.”

You realized that as you walked down the park, that you had remained quiet, and perhaps Mingyu mistook your silence for something other than you just pondering about how familiar his situation was to yours.

“Oh, please no, don’t worry, Mingyu,” you showed him a kind smile.

“I don’t want to bother you with that. I just…” he scratched his neck absentmindedly. “I had never talked about this with anyone, and the words just flew out of my mind, you know?”

You nodded; you knew that all too well. “It’s okay, Gyu,” you insisted. “I’m not bothered. I don’t think it’s wrong to talk about that. After all, it is part of you, and I asked because I was curious.”

Mingyu looked at you for a long second. “I appreciate that,” he kissed his own lower lip, nodding in gratitude. “Thanks for hearing me out.”

“Hey, it’s nothing. You’re walking me home, so consider us even,” you pointed.

“You owe me nothing for that,” he pouted slightly, pausing his step in the middle of the basketball court you both were crossing to get to the other side of the neighborhood.

“I’m just saying,” you shrugged. “Since you were kind to me, I guess what I can do is listen to your woes,” you added playfully.

“My woes,” he grinned, clicking his tongue. “Really? You’re a tease,” he insisted, his eyes spotting something on the far corner of the court.

He sprinted towards the forgotten ball, grabbing it with one hand and started to bounce it as he walked back to you.

“Remember when we used to do this?” he asked, standing outside the box and turned to look at you, raising his arms with the ball ready on one hand.

Your tummy fluttered at his words. “Course I do, Gyu. It wasn’t that long ago,” you pointed.

He referred to the times when you used to go out in your friend group, you would go to stroll and have picnic nights with booze right next to the river, and then you would go to the park to watch the boys play basketball.

“I feel like seventeen happened forever ago,” he sighed, confidently throwing the ball which dodged the hoop quite miserably.

You snorted.

Mingyu shot a sullen look at you. “D’you think you can do better than me?” he challenged, but a shy smile drew on his face.

“Oh, most definitely,” you chuckled, but caught the ball with your hands when he passed it to you.

“Right, show me,” he nodded to the hoop.

You grinned, getting ready to shoot your shot. “What do I get if it goes in?”

Mingyu blinked. “You get,” he paused to think. “A round of applause.”

“What?” you gasped.

“A chocolate bar,” he giggled but when you did not reply, he said: “And if you don’t, you’ll get a forehead flick.”

“What, why?” you asked with a faux scandalized tone. “You didn’t get a forehead flick, why should I?”

The giggled that bubbled in his mouth was high and cute at the same time. “Those are the rules.”

“Your rules suck,” you huffed, and finally threw the ball.

It of course, did not go even near the hoop. Mingyu laughed the second that the trajectory of the ball dived before it even went close to the hoop, the sound was so contagious you found yourself resisting to laugh.

“Rules are rules,” he said, locking his middle finger with the pad of his thumb, forming a circle with his joined fingers.

“No, wait—Mingyu!” you squealed then the tip of his middle finger clashed with your forehead, flicking you swiftly. Pain flashed across your skin, but it quickly dissipated, leaving a tingle behind.

“Those were the rules, you agreed!” he giggled again, dodging your hand as you tried to push his shoulders.

“Then you should get one too,” you struggled to keep up with him, every single one of the fists you threw at him dodged quite effortlessly.

“The rules were settled after I threw,” he let out a small squeal when one of your fists nearly collided with his shoulder, but he was still quicker than you.

“Come here you-,” you gasped, your body was neatly trapped in his arms.

Your gaze shot up to find his, overwhelmed by the very pressure of his skin against yours.

“Stay put,” he panted. The tips of his ears were painted red, his eyes had lit up. The smile he wore on his face was just as overwhelming as feeling his big arms surrounding you.

But you sneaked a hand between your bodies, flicking off his forehead with a triumphant smile. “Dummy,” you whispered, a giggle bubbling in your chest. Joy bloomed inside you, warming up your face.

He lifted a hand to rub his forehead, letting you go. “Ack, but you played dirty!” he complained, holding the pads of his fingers to his forehead.

“No, I didn’t, you did,” you remarked, looking at him as he gave you a lazy smile.

“So that’s how it’s going to be,” he kissed his teeth. “I’ll get my revenge on you.”

“Oooh, I’m so scared,” you lifted your hands, flickering them in a scared motion.

The sky rumbled above you. Mingyu looked up and you followed. “We should get going,” he said.

As you left the park, you made your way along the sidewalk where your building was located. Then a hand came to your waist, gently prompting you to walk along the side of the buildings instead of along the edge of the sidewalk.

The touch was minimal, fleeting. But your mouth went dry, searching his face for any sign that he knew what he had done to you with such an insignificant gesture.

Your heart stammered against your chest, quite uncontrollably, it made it hard for you to breathe properly. You raised your head when you got to your building. “We’re here,” you stepped in the first step of the stairs that led to the door of the building, pausing to look back at his face. “Thank you, Min.”

The smile that drew on his face knocked the air out of your lungs. “You are welcomed,” he said, emphasizing each word adorably.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you,” you muttered awkwardly, hating that he had flustered you with so little and had no idea about it.

“Oh, yes,” he swiftly fished his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “We should exchange numbers, in case there is anything you need.”

You sighed shortly through your nose, a thing he did not notice. “Sure,” you said, pulling out your phone and gave him your number.

“I’m mostly busy at the bar but, maybe we could go out for coffee, so we can catch up properly?” he asked.

That gave you a reason to pause. You were certain that he was not asking you for a date, but why had you become so nervous at the thought of going out with Kim Mingyu?

“Of course, I’d love that,” you grinned. “Goodnight.”

And then you ran into your building. Running away from Mingyu for a second time.

You struggled to get sleep that night.

Staring at the ceiling, you grew more and more restless, and even more aware of the thing that lied beneath your bed, inside one of the drawers of the bed frame.

A long, whiny sigh of resignation spilled from you before you could get a hold of your actions. You rolled to the edge of the bed, flinging an arm over the mattress, and yanking the drawer open. Another sigh as your fingers reached for the pink satin bag and bottle of lube.

Tossing the covers off your already hot and pulsating body, fingers trembling slightly as you pulled the vibrator out of the satin pink bag you kept it in since you bought it. There had been only a couple of times that you had actually touched the pretty toy with your hands. The toy was pink, the material was soft, thick, and just about enough inches long to satisfy you. Or so you hoped.

Unsure as to how to go about this, you thought of removing just the lower part of your sleeping clothes, including your panties. Breathing hard, and feeling hot in the face and neck, you lied on your pillows, staring at the ceiling.

Your heart was banging fast against your ribcage, as if it wanted to get out. You liked your lips, before grabbing the bottle of lube you had tossed beside you and pumped the cold, thick lube on your fingers, gently applying it between your pussy lips.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth upon the chilly contact against your warmth. But wasted no time, grabbing the pink rabbit dildo from your sheets and holding the button with your thumb.

It came to life with rapid vibrations, the buzzing sound made you jolt in your bed again. But mustering some courage, you brought the tip in, pushing it inside your entrance gently at first. The fast mechanic motions of the vibrator made it hard to concentrate, or to even get pleasure out of it.

Your eyes outlined the edges of the ceiling, anxiously pushing a few more inches inside your needy walls. The thickness of the dildo made your mouth part, releasing a tiny moan of both pain and from feeling your pussy stretching and pulsating around it.

Slowly, you familiarized yourself with the feeling of it, and you grew to like it as the seconds went by and you found a mode that felt good. Your body responded naturally, coming alight with the mechanic patterns of the vibrator massaging your walls. You pushed it all the way inside you, to the part that met your clit.

A strangled moan came out of you, letting your body be submerged in a puddle of pleasure. You sank your head back onto your pillows and spread your legs more so that the dildo reached deeper inside your walls.

It was electrifying. You felt your muscles tighten, your legs burn and begin to tremble, you turned your head to muffle a moan in your pillow and closed your eyes.

Behind your eyelids, you saw him. You saw his tall frame, the beautiful way that he moved. You saw the outline of his lean torso, the t-shirt clinging onto his abdomen. The way he smiled when he noticed your eyes on him, winking at you knowingly.

The way that every nerve in your body sizzled when he laid his hand on your waist. The memory only contributed to the pleasure blooming inside your body, pushing you closer to the edge.

You slowly succumbed to waves of pleasure washing over you, you moaned and thrashed but made no attempt to pull out the vibrator continuing to pleasure you, taking you to the edge. Your orgasm became brutal, fast fiery waves consuming you, tearing through you.

It was hard to ignore the urge to remember his large hand on you, the way he lowered his gaze to meet yours, his seductive smile. You wanted his hands on you, all over you.

A series of airy moans resounded across the walls, you arched your back from the bed, legs shaking uncontrollably, the burning feeling spreading from your throbbing walls to every corner of your aching body.

You held in a breath, putting an end to your implacable moans. The intense feeling coursing through your body making it harder to stop, so when a warm and wet gush came out of you, your thumb pressed the off button, realizing that you had just wet the bed.

Breathless, and shaking, you sat up on the bed, looking at the wet spot in your bed sheets. It was the first time you squirted, the first time you even felt pleasure so abundantly like this. You pondered over how you had to resort to thinking about Mingyu to achieve your climax.

With a sigh, you gathered yourself, cleaning your bed, yourself, and your toys before throwing your ruined bed sheets in the washing machine. You placed new ones and tucked yourself back in and stared at the ceiling.

Though you were completely languid at the time, your vision faded to black, falling into a deep slumber but one thought remained.

I think I’ll accept that coffee.

Easier said than done.

As the following Monday rolled around, you fidgeted with the sleeves of your large hoodie as you approached the door of Casa Pump House. Nerves wrecked up in your system when you pushed the door open using your electronic key.

It had been some days since you saw Mingyu. Some nights since you dared to touch yourself thinking of him. And you were trying your best to keep him out of your mind. Utterly ashamed, you did not even want to think of what you had done.

Because you had enjoyed it.

In the back of your mind, a tiny voice begged for you to visit The Spot again. Whenever you went to the convenience store, a flashing thought warned you that you might run into him there. Or at the gym, even.

“Heyyyy,” Jungkook rasped, elongating the word. “You have been MIA.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled awkwardly. “Stomach flu.”

He made a face. “Ew. You’re good now?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t ew me,” you gibed. “Yeah, I’m good.”

But Jungkook did not know the stomach flu had a name, and you have been doing everything to not cross paths with him. So why were you at the gym, knowing full well that you could potentially run into him around that time?

“You’re here early,” he pointed, leaning his head to one side.

“It’s noon already!” you quipped.

“That’s early for you,” he remarked. “You always come here when I’m leaving.”

“Well, I missed you so I thought I could come here earlier to see your face,” you returned.

“You know what, I’ll take that. I missed your silly face too,” he said, smirking triumphantly.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well,” he clasped his hands together, comically drawing in his eyebrows in a deep-set frown. “Let’s get to work, twinkie.”

“What did you just call me?” you demanded at him.

“Twinkie,” he shrugged, motioning a finger at your body. “You look squishy, like a cute twinkie.”

“Hey!” you frowned, pointing a finger at him impishly. “And you look like you were left alone with a sharpie started doodling on your skin.”

His mouth parted in a tiny o. “Touché.”

You giggled. “Okay, let’s get to work,” you rolled your eyes in resignation.

“Let’s start with some warmup,” he nodded to the elliptical machines behind you. “Ten minutes. And then you are going to do RDLs, okay?”

“Okaaaaay,” you mumbled, reluctantly taking your body to the elliptical machine.

You climbed the steps, pressing buttons to see what made the machine start. Once you found the button that made it work, you started moving. You dove into the pocket of your hoodie, looking for your earbuds and your phone to distract yourself from the monotony of the gym.

“Hands out of your pockets!” Jungkook yelped, a second later you saw the man rushing to your side. “You’re gonna get squished, twinkie.”

“Stop calling me that,” you giggled with embarrassment.

“I will when you get a nickname for me that suits me,” he negotiated.

“God, you’re terrible at flirting,” you pointed with a laugh.

“I’m not flirting,” he chuckled, awkwardly moving away from you.

You let out a puffy breath, drawing out your earbuds out of your pocket.

“Mingyuuuu, it has been ages!” Jungkook chanted, his voice resounding across the lonely gym.

Your stomach twisted, an anxious rush of blood barrelling throughout your body. Your gaze snapped around the place, finding Jungkook pressing his phone to his ear. “This Friday? Uh, yeah, maybe I could. Let me check and I’ll let you know, okay? Okaaay.”

It could be anyone else, you reasoned, placing the earbuds inside your earholes with embarrassment controlling your body. However, it seemed all too likely that it was the same Kim Mingyu on the phone. After all, Jungkook and Mingyu seemed like the kind of goofballs that would get along.

A probability that you did not want to find out yet.

As you continued your best to follow your routine, something had damaged it. And it was not that you were still ashamed of yourself. Or that you were still flustered about your last encounter with Mingyu.

The realization that you could feel something other than monotony. From the moment you broke things off with your ex, everything felt the same, tasteless, colorless. And you knew that you had put in the work to break out of that dullness in your life, you went out more, you were meeting new people.

But nothing compared to that night. And you found out that you wanted more.

However, it was not easy. You had drowned yourself in work in order to keep avoiding it. So there you were, trapped in your little office you rented for yourself, working yourself to exhaustion so that you could just get back home and sleep immediately.

You turned off the computer after reading the clock that it was three in the morning already. So you grabbed your phone, and your apartment keys and went out of the building.

Damn you, summer rains.

They always came when you least expect it, in the blink of an eye. The air felt so hot as you went out of your office that you could barely walk outside, but then the rain was pouring over you with no notice.

Walking down the sidewalk in working shoes was not the best idea. In fact, you were heavily contemplating removing them and just going back home barefoot.

You came to a reluctant halt in the middle of the deserted sidewalk, as heavy droplets of water fell on your face, on the back of your head as you stared at your shoes, getting wetter and wetter as you pondered over your dilemma.

“Lost something?”

Taking one big gulp of air, you shot a look across the sidewalk, only to find Kim Mingyu standing, wearing his usual attire for work. The features of his face looked relaxed despite the heaviness with which he approached you, carrying his fatigue in his limbs with each step.

His white T-shirt began to accumulate wet spots on his shoulders and chest. His cheeks were wet, as was his long messy hair.

You gaped at him in question. The dilemma occupying your brain dissipated into the void, quickly replaced by the shock of seeing him after days of keeping him at arm’s length without failure.

“Hi there,” he muttered once he stood one step before you.

“Hi,” you smiled, having to tilt your head to find his face.

“You’ve been gone,” he said with some air of urgency, much as if he did not want to lose you at some lazy excuse on your part. “I was starting to wonder that you didn’t want to hang out anymore.”

You hated his straightforwardness sometimes. “Sorry,” you scrunched up your nose in discomfort, receiving more fat droplets of water on your face. “I needed some me time.”

“Then you should’ve just said so, dummy,” he pointed, rolling his eyes at you as if his point were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I struggle to say things sometimes,” you retorted in a whiny tone. “Look, I’d love to continue this conversation but we’re literally just soaking in the middle of the street.”

Mingyu raised his eyebrows, as though he had not noticed the rain pouring down on both of you. “I’ll walk you home,” he motioned in the opposite direction from which he was previously coming.

And with that, he turned around and started to walk down the street.

You fell into step at his side, struggling to keep his steady pace. “Slow down,” you exhaled.

“Right,” he giggled sweetly. “Short legs.”

“Shut up,” you readjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “You just walk really fast.”

“Because I’m taller than you, my legs are longer,” he motioned to his legs, taking one big step that amounted to three of yours.

“Well, then walk slower, please,” you huffed with exhaustion already building up in your feet.

Mingyu noticed, still looking at your face as he walked. “Fine, sorry,” he conceded. “Are you just clocking off work?”

You nodded, noticing your ponytail heavier now that your hair was soaking. “I wanted to finish everything before the weekend.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he gasped in dramatic reprimand.

“Don’t give me that look,” you frowned, pointing a finger at him. “I could say the same to you! You also just clocked off.”

“But that is normal for my job! What you do is not something specifically for night hours,” he argued, matching your tone.

“What do you know about what I do?” you tried to argue but a smile fought to curve your lips. “I could hold office hours specifically from 11 pm to 3 am,” you giggled impishly.

“Ah, really you are…” he rolled his eyes but shook the thought from his head. “Could you finish?”

Droplets of water slid down the bridge of his nose, dropping from the tip and onto his cupid’s bow. You remembered the cute little beauty mark sitting on the tip of his nose. You wanted to kiss it.

It took you one second to understand what he was implying. “Oh, yes, I did,” you stammered, crossing your arms over your chest.

But Mingyu did not notice the meaning behind your gaze. “That’s good,” he nodded, pressing his lips together.

The short spasm returned in your chest, making you tear your eyes from his face and keep walking beside him, staring at the sidewalk.

“How was work tonight?” you returned the question, trying to get as much light conversation as you could without falling into the deep craving tugging in your insides.

“It was alright,” he shrugged. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What would that look like?” you ventured.

“Ah, well, drunk people tend to be funny,” he showed you a toothy grin. “One guy celebrated his birthday at the bar one night, and after a few drinks he lost control, went insane,” he laughed in the memory of it. “He started thinking he was an idol, he requested a song and got on a top of the bar and started dancing.”

His laugh was contagious, you could not help but respond with a giggle of your own. “Oh, no, that sounds embarrassing. What did you do?”

“He lost his balance and fell to the floor,” his smile vanished, shuddering slightly. “He broke his nose, I had to call an ambulance,” he finished the story, scratching his nape absentmindedly.

“That’s not how I thought the story would end. Talk about a night to remember,” you huffed awkwardly.

“Well that is one story of many,” his eyes widened slightly.

“But you like it?” you raised your eyebrows. “D-do you like your job?”

“I do,” he reaffirmed with a nod.

The rain had completely succeeded at soaking your clothes, your button shirt felt cold against your skin, and your jeans were tight and damp, it was starting to get hard to move.

Whereas you felt like a wet ragged doll, Mingyu looked like a supermodel. His long dark hair was dripping wet onto his beautiful face. His white T-shirt was clinging to the muscles of his body, letting you view the well-defined lines of his abdomen.

“Were here already?” Mingyu asked when you came to a halt in front of your building.

“Yeah,” you said distractedly, sending him a look as you opened the door to the inside of the building, welcomed by the smell of humidity and dust. “Don’t just stand there.”

The man followed you inside without much insistence. You started machining in your brain your next movements while climbing the first flight of stairs to the door of your apartment, which you opened with a shaky hand.

You staggered awkwardly against the door frame, trying to keep your chin up to hold his gaze. One hand brushed the worn edges of the frame, resting on it as you caught your breath. Mingyu noticed your eyes this time around. And you almost did not want to realize that his eyes were on your body as well.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked meekly, darting a look at the dark interior of your apartment, aside from the little lamp you always left on when you went out. “I can make something to eat. And lend you a towel, fresh clothes, maybe.”

Much to your fortune, the man nodded with his head. “If you want,” he mumbled, so you slid back inside your apartment for him to follow inside. “Though I’d have to reject the clothes,” reluctantly, he strolled inside your haven, looking at the abandoned big frame and leaning against the hallway wall.

“Why?” you asked, still walking backward as he paced before you.

“Because they might not fit me,” he chuckled, his smile knocking the air out of your lungs.

“What do you know, I could have something that might,” you smirked, getting him a towel you had discarded earlier in the morning.

He gave you a light gesture of gratitude with his head, thanks, he mouthed before pressing the towel to his face.

“Do you…” you hesitated. “Can I offer you something?”

He sneaked a look at you with the towel pressed to the lower half of his face.

“Like water?” you suggested with a sheepish smile. “I have ramen–and rice in the fridge.”

He contemplated you as you swayed your body on the balls of your feet ever so gently. “You don’t need to do that,” he finally replied.

“It’s just food, Mingyu. You walked home with me,” you shrugged, motioning to the kitchen, your fingers grazing the rim of the dining table.

The man took one step towards you, making your step stutter. “I mean that,” he smiled. “You don’t have to repay nothing, shorty. That’s what friends are for.”

You stumbled against the edge of your dining table, a gasp leaving your lips that you quickly tried to replace with a muffled chuckle. “You know, I could say the same thing.”

“How long are you going to keep this up?”

“What?” you breathed, completely perplexed by both the proximity and the question. “Ke-keep what up?”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” he muttered gruffly, pushing you to lean back against the dining table without laying one finger on you. He was just so close to you that you had no room to breathe.

“Noticed what? Mingyu–,” you giggled in utter shyness when he knowingly smiled at you. The blood rushing to your face made your skin tingle, you bit your lower lip.

“Am I making you nervous?” his voice dropped, his dark eyes reading the features of your face with avid curiosity.

“Yes,” you admitted, leaning back with your hands gripping the wooden rim of the table as he towered over you. “I like you, Kim Mingyu.”

His triumphant smile crushed your heart with its beauty. Damn you, Kim Mingyu.

“I like you too,” he whispered, leaning closer, the smile fading softly as you stopped moving back.

“Mingyu,” you whispered, hating how much you were flustered at his confession, your voice waning.

Mingyu paused, but it was not out of hesitance, his gaze swimming on your features quickly softened once you dared to reach out to him. Using the proximity of your bodies, you found his face with your hands, realizing how warm his skin was.

“Yeah?” he whispered back, nodding slightly with his head. Mingyu wanted this too.

You are not sure what happened, if you moved first or he did. You closed your eyes, breath hitching as his lips touched yours, your skin coming to life with a fiery rush of blood. From pressing his lips against your own, he quickly moved to kiss you deeper, using one hand on your chin to tilt your face to him.

Your heart stammered in your chest, his hand returning to park in your waist. Friends don’t kiss, you wanted to tell him.

Who were you kidding, you had never wanted someone like you wanted Mingyu.

But this is wrong, you thought over and over again.

“Mingyu,” you breathed when his fingers on your chin tilted your head for him to kiss the underside of your jaw, slowly pressing his lips twice.

“Mn?” he hummed really close to your skin, so you felt his short sigh, his breath brushing your skin.

“We should stop,” you brought a hand to the middle of his chest, feeling his hard pecs beneath your palm.

“Why? Am I doing something wrong?” he asked, backing away from you so he could take a look at your face.

“No, not at all,” you said, short of breath, rigid in your muscles in a weak attempt to resist what you wanted to do.

“Okay, if you want to stop, then we stop,” he offered with a kind tone, slowly following your gaze as you palmed his chest over his t-shirt.

“I- I mean if we do this…” you stammered, feeling stupid. “I don’t want us to change.”

A toothy grin spread on his lips. “How would this change us?” he shot a look to your eyes then your lips.

“I don’t want to cross a line we can’t come back from,” you explained, still not letting go of him.

He stilled completely; you saw it in his eyes when he started to craft a plan. “You draw the line.”

“Mingyu…” you whispered, your lips pouting around the last sound of his name.

This was not the same as playing basketball in the middle of the night with him. This could potentially tilt your world upside down. He did not know yet the way he made you feel just by being around you.

“You can draw it here if you want,” he offered, his tone was nothing but kind.

A smile stretched your lips slowly. He made things harder for you like this. Letting you be the one to choose was dangerous, if not stupid. But he did not know.

“I don’t want you to look at me differently,” you quivered. It was still hard to breathe since he was still within arm’s reach. Your hand lingered still right on top of his heart.

“I won’t,” he whispered back, gesturing a no with his head slightly. “I promise.”

Mingyu did not know that you were all too familiar with the pain that he carried. Even if he were not hurting at that moment, you knew what he was going through.

Mingyu looked at you as if he had just dipped into the stream of your thoughts but were left unbeknownst to your actual insecurities. “You’re safe with me,” he mumbled, offering you the ghost of a smile.

You thought of all the nights you wished for something like this to happen. The moments you wished to get a touch, to feel what you felt the first time he placed his hands on you.

Mingyu grabbed you by the waist, easily lifting you off your feet and placing you on the small dining table. He did this carefully, but you could sense that he wanted you in a position where he could kiss your face freely. His hands held your face lightly, while he continued pressing kisses on your lips, your cheeks.

This time, as he dives back in your lips, his tongue brushes against yours, lightly at first but enough to elicit a throaty moan from you. The frenzy pulsing in your throat turns into a warmth, blooming from your neck to your face.

He realized you liked that, and tried it one more time, his tongue lingering on the tip of yours before he pulled back. “I should go now,” he whispered, the pad of his thumb caressing your chin gently. “Or I won’t be able to stop.”

You grabbed his wrist. “Wait,” you breathed. “Please don’t. Don’t go. I don’t want you to leave.”

Did you want him? Or did you just not want to spend the night alone, wondering about him?

Mingyu seemed to desist, much as if the rigidness that he used to command himself away from your body had dissolved once he heard your plea. You caught sight of his throat bobbing when he gulped hard, searching your features as if he would find what to say in them.

“Stay the night with me,” you blurted uncontrollably.

“Sure,” he replied, grabbing the edges of the dining table as though he were withholding the urge to touch you again.

“Do you want to, Mingyu?” you asked, reluctant about his general lack of resistance to your offer.

He smiled as he tilted his head to one side. “I would’ve said no if I didn’t want to,” he raised his eyebrows in question. “If I stay, I do want to know one thing. Are you sure about this?”

Before you uttered the same quippy response he gave you, the flashing thought of sabotaging yourself crossed your mind. He knew this. Mingyu knew that you had a tendency to be a people pleaser, of trying to make everyone happy.

“I am,” you reassured, and it was the final blow to what little self-control you had left. “I want you, Mingyu.”

The words caused an impact on him. He breathed in slowly, but his eyes widened ever so slightly, shooting up a glance to your features. His eyes lit up, his beautiful lips curving in a small, but shy smile.

Finally admitting that aloud, and to him also caused something within you. Your pulse quickened, followed by a heat rushing inside you, stretching so far that it reached the tips of your fingers, commanding them to his face.

The pads of your fingers touched the line of his jaw in a gentle caress, urging him back to your lips before you could say something even more damming to your soul. The stammering of your heart was distracting, telling you to let go of this man before he could hurt himself in the tumultuous and dark path that led to your heart.

But you could not. Take the risk, the words echoed in the back of your mind.

“Mingyu,” you blurted, parting from his lips. “Couch, sit.”

You heard an airy chuckle left him as he broke away from the kiss, walking back and blindly falling on the couch, not bothering to look around to make sure where he was heading. You jumped from the dining table, crossing the space to follow him.

His hands pulled you in, his grip on your waist coming back to command you to sit on top of him, which you did willingly, pressing one knee on the couch, then the other, framing Mingyu’s thighs.

Now that you were straddling, a tiny voice in the back of your mind wanted to pull the breaks, but your hands found his face again, your palms caressing his cheeks as you slid your fingers in his long dark hair, brushing it back before sinking your lips in his.

His hands roved your back, starting from your waist up, his fingers getting caught in your hair when he reached your shoulder blades, pressing on your skin over your dress shirt. Your hands went around the back of his head, sliding down to find his thick neck.

Your tongue rolled inside his mouth, swiping a line on his lower lip in the process. Your body came alight with a shudder when a raspy moan coiled around his throat, you felt it beneath your fingertips.

A soft wet sound bubbled between your lips and his when you stopped kissing him, pausing for air. You thought of what to say, resting your forehead on his.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asked.

Every inch of your skin tickled when you heard how gruff his voice had turned. You nodded with your head.

“Yes,” you replied. “You? What do you want, Mingyu?”

The inner corners of his eyebrows twitched ever so slightly, but you noticed it. The question caught him off guard as if that had not been a consideration before. It broke you.

“I don’t want to stop,” he said with a sigh. But realizing that he only half answered your question, he added: “I want you. I’ll go as far as you let me.”

The tiny voice grew more alarmed, but you ignored it besottedly running the pads of your fingers to brush back a rebellious strand of hair back from his face. Mingyu was beautiful, the most beautiful man you have ever seen. But the pull you felt for him went beyond the physical. You needed him.

“Take control, baby,” he whispered.

And you obliged. The strangled sound that bubbled inside you was almost foreign to you. You were on his lips again, kissing him hungrily like you had never kissed someone else before. His hands grabbed your hips, bringing you impossibly closer to his body, pushing your chest flush against his.

You palmed his chest, appreciating the warmth radiating from him with a low hum, which he reciprocated, his hands daring to move farther down your back, cupping your ass and pulling you down on him, pushing your crotch against his.

“Mingyu,” you whimpered in his mouth. You grounded your hips on him, replicating the motion by swaying your hips back and forth on him once, then twice.

“Fuck,” he blurted, then shut his eyes tightly. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, continuing to ground your hips on him, rubbing yourself on the hard bulge beneath his blue jeans. “Do you like this?”

“Yeah, yes, baby,” he rasped. “But I want you to feel good, shorty. C-can I move you to the bed?” he shuddered.

You stopped grinding on him. “Sure-,” you gasped. Before you could finish your sentence, Mingyu was rising to his feet, scooping you up with him.

He giggled softly when you squealed in surprise. “I got you,” he wrapped your body effortlessly, his arms carrying you safely.

Your arms went around his neck by instinct, but he crossed your tiny studio apartment faster than your brain could even process. As he laid you on the mattress, you noticed that he had made sure that only your legs were hanging on the edge of the bed.

Mingyu placed a hand on the mattress, right next to your shoulder, then the other. “Stop me if you don’t like anything at all,” he muttered, climbing on top of you, and lowering his hips to meet yours.

He was heavy—heavier than you had expected or imagined in your most delusional nights. And he was not even lowering his full weight on you.

You swallowed thickly. But recovered when your hands found the hem of his t-shirt. “I want to see you without this,” you toyed with the damp cotton fabric, sending him a look.

Mingyu smiled and pulled back on the mattress, standing on his knees before you. He crossed his arms, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt to pull it up his torso, and off his head, showing his skin unabashedly.

A shudder flashed down your spine. You wondered before what was beneath that t-shirt, but what little you dared to imagine did not compare to the actual beauty he was. Before you could even take the image before you, Mingyu was already leaning over your body, propping a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Fair is fair?” he asked meekly, a thumb brushing over one button of your dress shirt.

“Yeah,” you showed him a smile, realizing you were jittery.

You watched his hand trail down as he undid each button, your shirt parting and slowly revealing the white bra you wore. It was nothing too daring, but it fit you well, accentuating your breasts nicely.

You darted a look at his face. Mingyu finished undoing the buttons of your shirt, his gaze lost in you as he palmed your tummy with a gentle caress to uncover more of your skin to him.

“God, you’re so pretty,” he gasped, leaning to press a hard kiss on your lips, his hand cupping your cheek.

Too astounded to even bring yourself to reply, you whimpered into the kiss, his tongue outlining your lower lip, his hand on your waist inched to your chest, setting your skin on fire. He cupped one of your breasts, groaning in desperation before hiking up the cup of your bra, to touch you freely.

Your hands flew to undo his belt, hastily undoing the button and zipper of his jeans too. “Get up,” you gasped, his thumb swirling your nipple, getting it to pebble, a tingle spreading on your skin beneath his touch.

Mingyu obliged, knowing where you were going before you even made a move. His gaze followed you as you pushed his jeans down, getting rid of them. In two full motions, your dress shirt was discarded on the floor along with your bra before you returned your back to the mattress.

He looked at you like no one else had before. There you were, splayed on your bed beneath him, and he was just taking you in with his gaze, making your heart flutter wildly.

His fingers grazed the skin of your thigh, inching closer to the band of your panties. You trapped his index and middle finger in your hand, his gaze snapping to yours.

“Fair is fair,” you reminded him with a grin.

He stood before your bed wearing a pair of grey boxers only. Pushing the inside of his cheek with his tongue, he sighed shortly. “You played dirty,” he pointed, but he removed his hand from your grasp.

You sat up, stopping him when you shot him a look, wordlessly telling him you wanted to finish undressing him yourself. You enjoyed the look on his face, his features going soft when you ran a finger from his belly button to the band of his boxers.

You palmed the outline of his cock, darting a quick look at his face when you felt the wet patch of precum on the last piece of clothing he wore. When your fingers finally curled around the waistband of his boxers, you could not help but conceal your smile by biting your lower lip.

Mingyu was fully hard, and he was big. A shudder tore through you. He stepped out of his boxers, looking at the bewildered expression on your face as he stood wholly naked, and proudly so.

Before you could even utter a word, he motioned you to lie back once more. You smiled, helping him get rid of your wet and ruined panties, which he yanked down your legs, tossing them to the floor, littered with your and his clothes.

“Gyu,” you whimpered, his lips pressing a sweet kiss on your lower, moving to capture it in a deeper kiss.

“Need you,” he whispered against your skin, his breath hot and quivering slightly as his hands palmed your breasts, his thumbs brushing your perked nipples. “I need you, baby.”

Your hands roamed on his back, feeling the outlines of his hard muscles. “Take me,” you blurted. “I’m right here.”

He placed a kiss on the underside of your jaw, and you tilted your head back for him to kiss your throat. “I want to eat you out,” he husked against the plain of your chest, kissing the swell of your breasts, taking his time with each as you raked your fingers on his scalp. “Can I?”

“God, yes, Mingyu, please,” you gasped, his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, making you stir your back on your mattress.

Mingyu hummed as he licked your tits, his tongue swirling around your areolas, kissing your nipples and suckling at them. His hands caressed the inner side of your thighs, spreading them open as his mouth trailed down your tummy, kissing your skin, making it prickle.

A moan coiled in your throat. You needed him now. “Hurry,” you blurted with a whine.

Mingyu obeyed wordlessly, getting down on his knees. Kissing your mound, his hands cupping your inner thighs focusing solely on your pussy before diving in, his tongue swiping a broad stroke on your pussy lips, licking you fully. The feeling overwhelmed you at once, and you knew you would not last long.

“God,” you gasped, as he licked your folds sending you a look from between your thighs. The view was so lewd, beating any experience you had ever had in the past in a matter of seconds.

Silence flooded the room, aside from the wet sounds of his mouth on your pussy, licking your folds, and your increased breathing. Your mouth had fallen open, and you forgot to breathe.

His hair tickled your skin, his warm hands holding you down as he licked, suckled, and nipped at your pussy, as though he were getting familiar with it, as though he just wanted to taste if first before moving his tongue to your clit.

And when he did, you knew there was no going back.

A breathy moan escaped, and you drew in a breath again. “Mingyu…” you called after his tongue swirled around your swollen clit. “Do that again,” you asked, your tone whiny and pathetic.

He did not skip a second before doing a figure-eight motion with the tip of his tongue, and again. And again. You wondered if you would come before he grew tired, but then you realized that he was not stopping, nor faltering.

You propped half of your body on the mattress, letting your eyelids fall shut for a brief moment, focusing on his tongue teasing your clit relentlessly. You caressed his long dark hair, drawing his puppy eyes to yours. “I’m almost there,” you choked out, your limbs tensing in response.

“God, Gyu,” you tilted your head back, a tiny giggle escaping you. “You’re so good at this,” you whispered aloofly.

Your fingers curled in his hair, feeling like you were falling, sinking into a puddle of pleasure. Arousal and drool dripped on the covers of the bed as the tension in your body brimmed you to the point you were shaking.

“Min-mingyu,” you choked out, so close to the edge you could barely hold out. “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m co-,” your orgasm rippled through you, body going limp with sweet pleasure, shaking, and whimpering pathetically.

He placed one final open kiss on your clit before rising from the floor, a satisfied look on his face. “Shorty?” he mumbled.

“I’m good,” you gasped dazedly.

“Want more?” he asked, climbing back on top of you.

“I need you,” you cupped his neck, pulling him into a fervent kiss. You tasted yourself in his mouth, his chin wet with your arousal, making your walls throb around nothing. “I need you now.”

That brought a wolfish grin from him. “How do you want me, baby?”

“Lie down,” you breathed, finding his hard chest with your hands.

You knew it was incredibly hard to push his body, but somehow you did. Pushing his broad shoulders as you managed to get on top of him again, but this time, as you were both utterly naked in your bed, it felt completely different.

“Oh god,” he blurted, his hands gripping your hips instantly as you lowered your ass to sit on him.

“You were amazing,” you husked, placing a chaste kiss on his lips that resounded with a lewd smacking noise.

His fingers dug into the skin of your hips in reaction to your praise, groaning as he captured your lips with his own again.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked, your tone weakened by the pleasure and the urge of feeling him.

He blinked for one long second. “No,” he rasped. “Do you?”

You shook your head. “I could suck you off,” you mumbled meekly, your gaze shifting between his eyes and lips. “But I’m on birth control.”

“I’m clean,” he mumbled. Your heart deflated just a little.

“I want you, Min,” you whispered, brushing his lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

A silent groan escaped him. “Please,” he replied in kind. “I want to feel you, baby. Now.”

The sound of his words emboldened you. You sat back on his thick thighs, once you straddled him you realized how big Kim Mingyu actually was. You raked the skin of his torso with the tips of your fingers, making him suck in a breath and shut his eyes close.

“Don’t tease me, please,” he choked out, kneading the flesh of your thighs. “Play later, baby.”

The whiny tone of his plea did not go unnoticed by you, but you kept caressing his skin, exploring it under the pads of your fingers until you reached his pelvis. Mingyu was well groomed, you found out when you grazed the short hairs with your index finger.

“Please,” he breathed, a hand shooting to circle your ankle.

“Alright,” you giggled.

You grabbed his hard cock with one hand, swallowing hard when you felt his soft skin, the thin vein trailing on the underside of his thick shaft. It was heavy and warm as you pumped him, spreading the precum leaking from its reddened tip.

Lifting your hips, your gaze locked on his, he trapped his lower lip behind his teeth, you guided his cockhead to your folds, a moan bubbling in your chest when his hands gripped you tighter. Mingyu sucked in a breath, swallowing a deep moan as you sank down on him.

“God,” you sighed, tears brimming in your eyes at the euphoric sensation of his cock stretching your walls deliciously.

But none of you broke eye contact, much as if neither wanted to miss the reactions you got from feeling each other.

“Fuck,” he whined once you bottomed out on him with a moan from your part. He closed his eyes, shuddering hard underneath you, his hands lingered on your hips, kneading your thighs as if that helped him cling to sanity.

“Okay?” you whispered.

“God, you…” he sighed, licking his lips. “You feel like heaven, baby.”

You smiled at him. “How long have you gone without getting fucked?” the question flew out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself.

“A while,” he admitted with a raspy tone.

You gave him a smile, before you anchored your hands on his chest, pulling your hips up, and then pressed them back onto his, feeling every naked inch of him. Your mouth fell open. “You’re so big,” you gasped.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered.

You shook your head, though the stretch had stopped hurting, you were enjoying it. You tucked your feet beneath you, propping them on his thighs to help yourself angle your hips on top of him. “Okay?” you asked again, riding him slowly.

“Perfect,” he replied, lifting his hands to cup your tits while his eyes explored every curve of your body.

You moaned, his fingers toyed with your pebbled nipples, making your hips buckle. “God, Mingyu…” you sighed, picking up the pace on top of him, enjoying the glazed look on his face.

“Fuck,” he gritted, pushing his head back on your fluffy pillows. “I’m gonna come. Baby, I’m g-gonna come.”

By pure instinct, you lifted your hips from his completely, making him sigh heavily but did not complain. You laughed impishly at the frown setting on his face.

“Please! Please, don’t stop, baby,” he whined, his hands clutching your waist. “I can keep going… just let me come, please. I need it.”

Oh, you could become addicted to this. You quickly realized.

You conceded without more begging from his part, sinking down on his cock again. Mingyu let out a long, whiny moan, shuddering when you started bouncing on him again. You leaned forward, managing to trap his lips with your own in a heated kiss. He hummed in your mouth, his hands roaming on your back.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped. “I swear, you feel like nothing else baby.”

You moaned, feeling your eyebrows pinch involuntarily. “You’re close, Min?” you asked, your tone going sweet and velvety for some reason.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Don’t edge me again, please.”

“Okay,” you giggled. “Wanna come inside me, Min?” you brushed his long dark hair back.

You caught sight of awe shooting on the features of his face. “Ye-yeah,” he breathed. “Please, please I’m so close, baby…”

You left a small peck on his lower lip, bouncing on him gently. “Come inside me, Mingyu,” you whispered.

“Oh god,” he gasped, grabbing your hips, helping you ground on him at the speed he needed to find his release, which came quickly, making him squeeze his eyes shut for a second before finding your eyes. “Baby, I’m coming, fuck, fuuuuuck…”

His mouth parted, a sharp intake of breath resounding across the walls right before a raspy moan came out of his pretty lips. The sight was so alluring that you feared the image would never leave your mind, you knew it would haunt you every night.

His grip became limp, and you stopped swaying your hips on him, kissing his lips as he came down from his high.

“Don’t stop,” he breathed, finding your thigh with one hand, then the other, caressing your ass before he motioned you to continue moving on him.

“Mingyu-,”

“I told you, shorty,” he said, showing you a lazy grin. “I can keep going.”

An ecstatic feeling rushed through you.

“It’s okay, Mingyu,” you said. “I’m good.”

“I want you to come,” he muttered, his voice thickened and gruff by arousal. “Do you want me to help you come, baby?”

“I- yes,” you sighed. “God, yes, Mingyu.”

Mingyu nodded, grabbing your hips as he shifted on the bed, planting the soles of his feet on the mattress to lift his hips, fucking into you, his cock reached deeper inside your walls, and deeper. A whiny cry escaped your mouth, your hands flying to grab onto his shoulders.

“Mingyu!”

Then he started plowing into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin becoming louder, impossible for the whole neighborhood to ignore. The headboard banged against the wall, mattress creaking with each of Mingyu’s hard thrusts.

He gritted his teeth, his eyes lost on the features of your face as you wailed, and cried out on top of him, nearing your sweet release.

“Fuck, fuck, Mingyu, I’m coming, I’m coming,” you cried out, a low whiny moan escaping you as you reached your second orgasm. This one was fiery, consuming you fast and mercilessly. Mingyu grunted, and you knew just by the fucked out look on his face that he was coming with you but kept fucking into you through your high, dumping his second load inside you.

You were panting, shaking, languid with pleasure as he lowered his hips back on your bed again, reaching out for you by putting a hand on the back of your head, prompting you to lie on his chest.

“You’re okay?” he asked with a sigh.

“Yeah, yes,” you breathed raggedly. “Perfect. You?”

Mingyu chuckled, wrapping his heavy arms around you in a warm embrace. “Perfect.”

You closed your eyes, ignoring the alarming voices in your head.

There was a thing you were certain of: you were playing with fire. But you wanted him, even if that also meant that you wanted to make him forget his broken heart. You wanted to ease his pain.

“We need to clean up,” you said, lifting your head from his chest.

Mingyu smiled, brushing your hair, tucking it behind your ear with his fingers. “Can’t we stay like this for a minute?” he said with a lazy drawl.

“Okay,” you whispered, leaning down on his chest again.

You listened to his heartbeat, caressing his chest with one hand. You smiled.

“What?” he asked, hearing your tiny giggle.

“Will you accept that ramen now?” you asked.

Mingyu chuckled, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, I think I will.”

The following Sunday rolled around and you did not go to the bar this time, feeling like it was a little too soon to see Mingyu again after the night he spent at your place. And thankfully, you did not feel hollow for once, even as you sat quietly in your apartment.

That was until the loud buzzing of your phone broke the perpetual stillness of the living room.

[8:40 PM] min: Are you free tomorrow? [8:40 PM] min: Can I come over to yours? [8:40 PM] min: I can't stop thinking about you.

That drew a big smile out of you. You replied in an instant, letting him know that he could come to yours, sealing the deal with Mingyu, whom you never thought would make you feel something real again.

☆ author's note: hi there! (⁠•⁠ө⁠•⁠)⁠♡

don't hate shorty for her actions, she had to take risks lol. she is a hot ass mess but give my girl a chance, she'll get better (✿◠‿◠) this fic is lowkey inspired by the song two weeks by fka twigs and my personal life experience

the journey of this fic is. . . kind of long. i started drafting this fic back in december 2023. i originally intended it to be a one shot, only focusing on the rebound aspect. but for some reason i couldn't get myself to write it and then. . . my ex partner and i broke up after years of being together. i kind of understood why i couldn't write this fic. and so here it is.

not me oversharing on tumblrdotcom oh well you could practically see into my soul in all my fics, c'est la vie haha

also my general taglist is a mess so,

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED FOR THIS SERIES, PLEASE COMMENT ON THIS CHAPTER, PUT IT ON YOUR REBLOG TAGS OR SEND ME AN ASK PLEEEEASE PRETTY PLS OR, JOIN MY TAGLIST

anyways,

toodles

☆ READ PART II! ☆ | JOIN MY TAGLIST | BUY ME COFFEE? ♡

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