#dilon.fic

[daffodilon]

cafune

cafuné - (brazilian portuguese)

"the act of running your fingers through your lover's hair; among the few words that cannot be directly translated into english"

Pairing: Jungkook / ♀ Reader Rating: M for Mature Genre(s): 🍭 Fluff, 💔 (like five seconds of) Angst, 🔞 Smut WC: 9,458 Warnings: Sexual content, porn with feelings, dry humping, like i’m talking thigh riding, coming in pants, dirty talk, discussion of exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics if you squint, baby boy jungkook, uhhh swearing, mentions of drinking to the point of blacking out. God this sounds filthy but I promise it’s #soft If there’s anything I’ve forgotten to warn for please bring it to my attention!! I haven’t slept in two days I’d appreciate the help. This isn’t beta’d, either, so watch out for that too, I guess

Summary: [A kiss-and-confess in an alternate universe, originally written as part of a much larger chapter fic, my library/roommates au. It took off in another direction and no longer fits within the scope of that timeline, and the scene had to be re-written. So now this is a standalone getting-together oneshot, because it was too cute of a concept to scrap.] TL;DR: talking to Jungkook about your Feelings™ and making out for like 8k words. It’s, like, slowburn without the slow. So I guess that makes it... all... burn... 🔥 👀

p 01, 02

Theoretically, there’s a big difference between a kiss and a cup of tea. One might even call it obvious. 

Indeed in practice, there’s a big difference between a kiss and a cup of tea.

Both in theory and in practice, kisses and teacups are difficult to confuse.

The point is, don’t ask how the hell you managed to screw that one up, because you don’t know, either.

What you know is, you knocked on Jungkook’s open bedroom door after putting the electric kettle on for yourself.

What you know is, he waved you in from where he sat on the bed, and you crossed the floor to peer over his shoulder at what he was working on, and he let you lean in close enough to glimpse the video editing program he had open for a quick look before he pushed the laptop closed and asked you how your day was.

What you know is, you gave him the radio edit, secured a promise from him to let you watch his project when he was finished, and then offered to bring him some tea, if he wanted any.

What you know is, he beamed at you in reply, eyebrows way up under his bangs, and he asked you for green tea.

Then, you grinned and told him, “Of course.”

Then, you turned to go. Your brain said, “Give him a cup of green tea.”

Now, theoretically, you know the difference between a kiss and a cup of tea.

Theoretically.

You kiss him instead.

It’s soft, and sweet with pent-up affection and syrupy endearment, and extremely quick.

It catches up with you pretty quick, after that. The fact that you’re awake, right now. The fact that you really did that, in real life, without a warning, without a word of precedent.

Your first instinct here is to get the hell out of dodge, and through the welling panic you make to get up and do just that, foolishly hoping you could avoid the consequences of your actions that way, or maybe at least postpone them.

Plan A doesn’t work out.

Thanks to his reflexes, Jungkook catches your wrist as soon as your eyes widen in realization and you move to slip off the bed and bolt. He stops you. Begs you oh, god no, don’t you dare to that to me, you can’t just kiss me and run away. Please, please don’t do that to me.

There’s nothing you can do but sit down again and he says, “I'm sorry but would you please, please talk to me. What- What was that?”

So you gather up every last shred of courage in your body to give him what he deserves: honesty. This isn’t Plan B. This isn’t even Plan C, but you no choice but to tell him.

How he’d looked so darling, all in white, sitting an arms length away. Warm and beautiful and relaxed, all fluffy hair and soft edges. That old, old familiar low simmering want had ballooned, expanded until the pressure maxed out and finally, finally burst. There wasn’t space inside your physical body to contain the expanse of it anymore, and you’d gone ahead and. Leaned down and kissed him.

But for any of that, you need words, and they aren’t making themselves available. Your useless brain churns out miserable sensation after miserable sensation, instead. You can feel the aftershocks of the inner explosion making your fingers tremble. Blood rushes in your ears, making your own voice sound like you’re underwater.

Words finally begin to tumble off your lips, but not the right ones.

“Oh, god. I’m, so, so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, I- Jungkook, the truth is I'm in- uh. Like you? I like- love you. And. I got- caught up... I don’t know.”

One, two, three exceptionally long beats elapse. You think mildly that maybe this is the worst you’ve ever felt, recalling hangovers, recalling being stood up on a date when you were seventeen, recalling crying into Jimin’s shirt after Seokjin’s party. This train of thought continues until he demands,

“Say that again, without the apology. Tell me again, don’t say you’re sorry.”

So you tell him, again, but you’re about three beats per minute shy of cardiac arrest. You’re no doctor, but you’re reasonably sure.

“Jungkook, I'm in love with you. I’m s- wait, no, sorry, I'm. Shit. I should- do I start over? I’m,” You look up at the ceiling, blinking back the traitorous tears welling in your eyes and sigh once, “I’m so in love with you,” you finally get out, helplessly, only to get a shaky exhale in reply, and have to wait in excruciating silence for a number of seconds, while Jungkook works through his disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping maybe if you close them tightly enough, the tears threatening to overflow will stay trapped. It’s a good effort, but it doesn’t work.

Then you hear, between many stops and starts, “I’ve... um,” He clears his throat, so you open your eyes again, since you’re clearly fighting a losing battle here anyway, in time to see him reaching for your hand before drawing back at the last moment, unsure. “Kind of, always been... yours. Like, this whole time?” Which... what the hell does that mean? “I’ve... I’m... I didn’t think- I was so scared that- I just. It’s just that you have no idea how many times I've imagined you saying that to me. And literally... not a single one of those times did I ever imagine you would be apologizing for it in the same breath. Please tell me again.” You’re pretty sure you’re physically shaking at this point, but it’s good that he’s asking you for simple things, one at a time, seeing as your brain has shut off. Checked out, right before you decided kissing him was a good next move.

You force yourself to make eye contact with him as you say, “I- Okay. I love you? I’ve been in love with you since... for so long now. All right? So please, what the hell does that mean, ‘I've always been yours?’ You’ve always... you’re what?”

“I mean I'm yours. I mean I love you. I love you, too. Will you please kiss me again, so I can kiss you back, because I've been sitting here these past five minutes freaking out about this whole situation but also the fact that you probably think I'm a terrible kisser? Because of just now? I’m sorry, I just, the shock-  and I'm not. I swear to god, I promise, I'm not, so please-”

You kiss him again, cutting him off mid-word, and, yep, oh, there’s a clear difference once he’s had time to react. He’s true to his word. But-

“Yeah, I know,” you murmur against his lips after a minute. The giddiness is finally beginning to catch up with you. Jungkook opens his eyes, it appears, with some effort.

“I- you what?” Holy fuck, he looks far away. It takes him a second to come back to himself enough to ask, “What do you mean?” His eyelids are heavy, and you can see his gaze trained on your mouth. The incredible way he looks this fucked out after a few seconds of kissing is really, really fucking distracting, and you almost forget what you were going to say.

“I know. I remember.” It’s not difficult to give in to the temptation to chase his lips again, between sentences, and you allow yourself to nip at his lower lip, like you’ve wanted to for so, so fucking long. But you do want to tell him, “Christmas,” before falling back into him again.

And Jungkook, poor thing, for all he’s good at kissing —giving as good as he gets and making your eyes want to roll back in your head and let him take, take, take what he wants— for all he’s very, very good at that, he’s just a little bit shit at multitasking. Carrying on this conversation is clearly, by degrees, becoming more and more difficult. You note with a little satisfaction that his chest is heaving slightly when he pulls back again, eyes still closed, but with a crinkle in his brow and his pretty, pink, kiss-swollen lips turned down at the corners in confusion.

“Christmas.” You can see him trying to remember, and yeah, you expected that, but. Ouch, anyway. You force yourself not to dwell on the number of times you’ve mentally re-lived that night, times he clearly hasn’t.

“Mhmm.” It’s too much to resist dipping back down for yet another quick kiss in between words. You’re getting addicted to it, it’s already clear. “‘S okay. You were pretty drunk,” you supply, pressing another kiss to the freckle beneath his lip, nosing along his jaw, kissing the skin there with every ounce of tenderness that’s taken up residence in your heart, piling up higher and higher over the past year, affection distinctly tinged with a powerful rush of relief overflowing in this moment as if to make up for how painful the past ten minutes were.  

“Christmas... kissed you?” Jesus, he sounds wrecked. Might as well be drunk now, at two pm on a Sunday. “Kissed you... mistletoe?” A modicum of clarity makes its way into his tone, as you reach the soft patch of skin below his ear and graze your teeth there, and you’re pressed up so close against him that his full body shudder wracks you as well. A fresh flutter of butterflies almost makes you gasp, in response. You’d been completely sure he didn’t remember that night at all. “That was... at Christmas there was, I was, so much-” His breath catches as you kiss your way down his neck, giving special attention to the mole there, “So much eggnog. I was so sure that- that was a dream.”

“Mmm mm. Nope.”

“Not a dream?” Your kisses make their way along to the other side of his neck, kissing back up, toward the corner of his jaw, angling to get his breath hitching again, and it works, up until he wrenches his head to the side with effort, leveraging his hand, which had made its way into your hair while you weren’t paying attention, to move your head where he wants it, with his lips properly brushing yours again as he says, “Hang on a second. Hang on... No? Are you sure?” Jungkook’s voice has taken on a hoarse note you weren’t expecting. This, combined with the firm grip he has on your hair has a moan slipping out of your mouth before you can clamp your jaw shut, but you have to scoff.

“Am I sure? That that was a thing I lived through? Yes, Jungkook I'm sure.” His eyes are boring into yours, now.

He’s maneuvering you both, now, careful not to pull too hard on your hair, but not relinquishing his grip, either. Before you know it, you’re on your back, propped up against the pillows with Jungkook’s body caging you in from above. He kisses you again, harder, and hotter, a kiss that has you chasing his lips when he retreats far enough to continue,

“Wow. Okay back up a little bit, I need you to tell me what happened, then, because I have a memory and its...,” —another searing kiss, “Let’s just say it can’t be accurate from start to finish. Call it wishful thinking.” He pulls back again, to read your expression. You aren’t sure what he sees there, but it’s probably something along the lines of pure want. Probably. “I was definitely blacked out from Seokjin’s horrible rum concoction. Help me out here?’”

You take a moment to give yourself the benefit of a steadying inhale, because it’s very, very difficult to think straight under these conditions. Under Jungkook conditions. Literally under Jungkook, is your current condition. Jesus, his eyes are so, so dark. Your imagination straight up fails to even speculate what he could mean by that, tapping out before you can even try. It’s too much to think about.

“What? I don’t know what that means. What do you remember happening? Or think you remember happening?”

It was worth a try, but you get only a shake of his head.

“Nope. You first. What do you remember?”

“I um. We both went to Seokjin’s for his Christmas party?” Jungkook, to his credit, seems to quickly register that you’re having a little difficulty relating events back to him, and takes a measure more pity on your kiss-clouded mind than you on his, a moment ago. He must genuinely be invested in your answer, because he backs up a little, sitting back on his heels with his knees on either side of your hips. You miss him immediately, and try very, very hard not to make any sort of embarrassing whine in protest, and succeed... mostly.

“Uh huh. I remember being sober-ish at that point.” Jungkook corroborates, kindly ignoring the noise you made, except to smile to himself as he reaches for your left hand with his right, intertwining your fingers. This simple gesture somehow makes your heart flip again, even harder than at any other point tonight. You need his weight back, want his mouth again, so you rush a little through your version of events, noting certain major details.

“You wore dorky cardboard reindeer antlers.” His eyes flit up and to the right, clearly searching for a matching memory.

“... Oh. Uh huh.”

“We played some drinking games with Tae, plus some other people, got tipsy.”

“Mmm.”

Jungkook has drawn your interlocked hands up to his face, and begun to press featherlight kisses to the side of your thumb, the inside of your wrist. Your heart rate immediately doubles, and you note with a healthy dose of chagrin that he must be able to tell, with his soft mouth at your pulse point. The fresh rush of want and embarrassment that follows has you reeling, and when you go to continue, you find yourself stuttering. You can see clearly on his face that this leaves Jungkook feeling smug, but you don’t have the will to challenge him over it at the moment.  

“I- I was also a little. A bit drunk. Then... I lost track of you for a little while, and then suddenly you were back.” You’re jumping ahead in the story now, but you can’t be blamed, because Jungkook’s mouth is tracing a soft, measured line down the inner skin of your forearm, making your heart start and stop. You had no idea that area would even be sensitive. You’re reasonably sure you’ve never been kissed there, before. “So it was me and you, in the kitchen,” you continue, reminding yourself to breathe, “And. uh. Um. Seokjin and his friend wouldn’t stop trying to get us both back out into the living room, and I couldn’t understand why, until finally,” Jungkook’s kisses reach your inner elbow, and he’s pressing closer again, eyes closed. He’s not currently watching your face, which helps you refocus enough to go on, “Finally I got it, only after we’d been shepherded over to the fireplace. And I looked up over your head and I saw the mistletoe, and I thought, this is it, this is the day I finally murder Kim Seokjin.”

When Jungkook huffs a laugh at this, the gust of warm air from his breath makes goosebumps break out all over your skin, and his eyes slot open to sparkle at you from a foot away, mouth still pressed to your upper arm. He’s smiling, and his next kiss to your bicep is tinged with a hint of teeth as he hums for you to continue. You do your best to keep your voice from sounding strangled. “But I looked down from the mistletoe to your stupid fucking antlers, and they were crooked? So I just. Um. I reached out and at first I thought I was just going to fix them. And then I. That’s not what I did.”

“No, it isn’t, is it?” Now Jungkook’s close enough to kiss on the mouth again, so you close the distance, too needy, too earnest. But he kisses back equally as honest, and after a moment, it seems he hasn’t heard enough. “Then what?”

You sigh.

“Then I. Think mostly it was rum driving the bus at that point? I just kind of said, fuck it. And I kissed you, because... because I wanted you.” Which, oops. It’s definitely, one hundred percent, completely true, but you had sort of meant to say “wanted to.” Oh, well.

“That sounds familiar.”

“Yeah?” Even to your own ears, your voice sounds breathless.

“Yeah,” He leans in again, this time only to brush noses and ask, “Tell me again.” It takes you a moment to understand what he wants to hear, but you work it out after a short second.

“Huh? You mean tell you I like you? I’m in love with you, Jeon Jungkook. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Another kiss, warm and soft, heavy with what feels like the weight of a lot of pent-up want and postponed feelings. You figure you can take that as a yes.

Jungkook sits back up a little, eyes crinkled and sparkling with his smile as he picks up the previous conversation as if the little detour that put it there hadn’t even taken place.

“I wanted you, too. But I feel like I remember being so drunk I didn’t know where my hands were,” he confides. You wince.

“I... yeah. That’s the thing, I’m so sorry, Jungkook, I could tell you were drunk, I shouldn’t have kissed you when you were so far gone. I- I’ve beat myself up about that since the minute I did it, when I pulled away and the bubble popped and suddenly I could- I could hear all the hooting and whistling.” Your cheeks are definitely coloring at that part of the memory, but this is something you need to get out. “I never should have taken advantage of you like that. I was drunk too, but not as far gone as you were, and I should have-”

“Oh, my god, please. Cut that out. Don’t, don’t don’t don’t do that. Don’t even think about it.,” he cuts you off, “I’ve heard about enough today of you apologizing for liking me. As for the consent thing... I literally- there’s nothing I’ve wanted more in the world, drunk or sober, than to kiss you, for like. The longest time. The most miserable, longest time. I’d consent to you doing... literally anything to me, any time you wanted—” And uh, that is a whole other big issue you don’t even know where to begin to unpack, so you start spluttering, but he rushes ahead before you can formulate a proper argument. “—You could chop my leg off. I trust you.”

This, for some reason, has your breath hitching all on it’s own, “But I realize you had no way of knowing that, until just now. So I'm sorry I let you stew in that guilt this whole time. I swear I really did think... I just couldn’t believe I’d be so lucky. I didn’t know it was real. Just.... you should know my only regret is that I can’t remember it better.” He stops for a moment, searching for your eyes, wanting to make sure you’re getting every word. His tone softens, “I remember wanting you, though. I’ll be honest, I’d forgotten all about the antlers until you brought it up. I remember talking to you in a kitchen... that’s all vague. I just remember thinking I wanted to kiss you so badly, I kept taking sips of eggnog just to have something to do with my mouth. In retrospect, maybe a different solution would have worked out better, because it seemed like every sip made it worse.” Jungkook chuckles, “I remember being so happy you were in my arms I thought I was going to throw up.”

“Oh, God,” you groan, throwing an arm over your eyes, only for him to tug it away, admonishing.

“Hey! No, not like that. Not drunk throwing up. Butterflies throwing up.” You have to roll your eyes, although a smile steals over your face.

“You sure about that? Because they feel pretty similar, in my experience.”

“Oh yeah? In your experience? Had a lot, have you?” He grins at you, making you swat his shoulder petulantly.

“Well, let me think. Seeing as how you like to come home from the gym with every vein in your arms bursting like they’re going to jump out of your skin, with your hair soaking wet, and then crowd all up in my space when I'm cooking, at least four days a week, every week, I'm going to go with —yes,” you gasp, as Jungkook picks that exact moment to utilize his new tactic of tugging your hair just this side of too hard, while also kissing down the side of your neck and biting down.

“You like that I go to the gym.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you huff, after a respectable period of recovery when you can speak again, “I don’t know where all this bravado is coming from when a minute ago you were so sure I couldn’t possibly like you back, you retconned an entire Christmas out of existence.”

“Yeah, well, I’m half convinced I’m dreaming as we speak, so, if I wake up in bed alone again I won’t be surprised.” He says this so matter of factly you have to stop him, pull back for a moment and stare at him incredulously.

“What? No, Jungkook, this isn’t a dream.” He’s already leaning in to kiss you again, eyes slipping closed, so you scoot back, out of reach. You need him to listen. “Jungkook.”

He sits back up, reluctantly, letting you push his shoulder and rearrange your positions so you’re each lying on your sides, facing each other. Less power balance in play this way, legs still securely entangled, one of Jungkook’s hands in two of yours, still close enough to feel each breath he takes tickling the backs of your hands. “Do you have a lot of conversations about dreams within dreams?” you prod a little, trying to make a point, “That’s so meta.”

“I mean, no. This isn’t Inception.”

It’s unexpected, and it has you laughing. “God, I fucking love that movie.”

You extract one hand to hold it up between you.

“Excellent taste, a man after my own heart. High five?”

Jungkook can only really tip forward and try to headbutt your palm with his forehead, because you’re hanging onto the one hand he’s not currently lying on top of and he doesn’t have much of a choice. “But don’t think I can’t tell you’re trying to change the subject. That’s what I remember, one really dreamy kiss that I have literally never been able to forget about every time I've seen you since Christmas. And then I... um. I needed air and I pulled back, and everyone was, uh. I guess it could be called cheering?” You wince at the memory of the cacophony. “It was like being catcalled by barn owls,” Jungkook’s turn to laugh. “Then I think... I just ran? To the bathroom? And uh. Cried for like twenty minutes, did like three extra shots of rum, called an uber. Went home and cried more and fell asleep and woke up to like a million missed calls from Jimin. That’s the night I had. So. What do you remember?”  

“That’s horrible. That doesn’t sound nice at all, I'm so sorry. It was so bad you cried? Jesus Christ.”

“No, it’s not that at all. The kissing you part was, um. Really nice. Like, everything I wanted, nice. But it’s just that... it didn’t mean any of the things I wanted it to mean; it was just a friend kiss. A mistletoe prank kiss our shitty friends pressured us into and I knew that’s all it was to you—” Jungkook begins to protest here, so you correct, “—that’s all I thought it was to you, at the time. Except now I knew what it felt like, and the fact that it would probably never happen again and that was horrible. Is why I c- I cried.” You’ve been avoiding eye contact during this speech, but now you look up again and meet Jungkook’s gaze, and you can see a deep, deep sadness there.

“I am so sorry,” he says again. “Kiss me?” You have to disentangle one of your hands again to achieve it, but you lift one arm and give him another smack on the shoulder without any real power behind it. “Ow. Please?”

“No! What did you mean, ‘wishful thinking?’”

“Kiss first?”

“I swear to god, Jeon Jungkook, if you don’t-”

“-Fine! Fine, I’ll tell you. I just want one kiss and then I promise I will explain.”

“God, needy.” But you’re already leaning forward to catch his lips again. You never have been able to deny him anything he asked for, anyway. Your track record with telling him “No,” is a crapshoot.

You break apart again after falling headfirst back into his warmth and unsteady breathing, working with considerable effort to remain on topic. “It’s sex, isn’t it?”

And abruptly, Jungkook’s blank, wide-eyed panic face confronts your question.

“What? No, what- why- no, that’s not-” A beautiful flush works its way up Jungkook’s neck to his face, spreading across his skin like a glass of red wine toppled over on a tablecloth.

“That’s why you’re so squirrely about telling me, right? It was a sex dream?” You interrupt his stuttering, “Look, Jungkook, it’s fine, it’s not like I haven’t had-”

“No!!” he finally sputters, cutting you off. “I swear, that wasn’t it. I was about to tell- wait. You what? Not like you haven’t... what? Oh, my god.” Now it’s your turn to flush positively scarlet, as Jungkook’s head falls forward until his forehead connects with your collarbones, overwhelmed.

A moment passes. He’s not even saying anything.

Maybe you broke him?

“...Jungkook?”

“Uh huh. Yep, I’m here. Need a minute.”

“O- Okay.” You don’t know what to do, feeling phenomenally awkward, so you begin to tentatively run your fingers through his hair, detangling the strands and combing it softly with your hands. It’s getting long.

Air from Jungkook’s nose washes gently over your neck as he murmurs a pleased noise at the attention, and some muffled words into your throat.

“What?” you ask.

“I said, ‘You’re going to kill me.’”

You’re feeling playful, so you tell him, “At the risk of hyping myself up too much... I think it’s fair to say you haven’t seen anything yet, Jungkook-ah.”

It’s quiet, but you do still managed to catch his whispered, “Fuck,” along with a barely perceptible tightening in his grip where his hands grasp your sides. Then, at a more reasonable conversational volume, “I promise, it’s more like, I wanted to make sure I knew the accurate story first before I talked through what I remember dreaming, it’s not that it’s a sex thing and I’m not embarrassed to tell you about it.”

“Uh huh.” Your skepticism colors your tone well enough to have him lifting his head to let you see the honesty in his face.

“It isn’t!”

“Okay, okay. I believe you,” you tell him, unable to keep the beatific smile from your face at his expression, and he blinks, looking momentarily dazed.

“You have the most beautiful smile,” Jungkook tells you, eyes dropping to your mouth and then back up to meet your gaze, a sweet smile of his own crossing his face as he says it. “Oh my god, I have so many things I can say out loud now.”

Your blush is back with a vengeance, bringing up with it a vaguely hysterical giggle. You spare a brief thought to wonder when was the last time you felt this happy. The ballooning buoyancy of it fills your chest cavity like air in your lungs underwater, dragging your whole body up, up to the surface. You think it could pull you all the way up into the sky if you don’t hang onto the boy in your arms with all your strength to stay grounded. Love like helium in your lungs, his smile like a flame beneath the patchwork balloon and the tactile experience of having your hands in his hair, on his shoulders, body heat shared between you as ballast.

You’re still in this dizzy headspace, trying to imagine how to articulate this feeling to him when he continues, “It’s one of the reasons I first fell in love with you.”

The words are a bellows on the fire feeding all the floaty feelings and the experience is such a shock to your already overloaded system, you don’t know what to say or how to say it, instead continuing to blush to the tips of your ears and pulling him in by the drawstrings of his sweatshirt to connect your lips again.

He seems glad enough to meet you in the middle. He indulges you for a long minute; says, “My version of events is consistent with yours all the way up to mistletoe, I think. I was holding you, and I was finally kissing you, and then the rest of the night is a blur of Hobi-hyung telling me to just sleep in his bedroom, and then I think is where I started dreaming, because you were back. And you told me all kinds of things that I’d always wanted to hear, like this, and you climbed into my bed, like this. And you kissed me, like this. It felt warm, and it felt real, like it always does.”

“Oh, baby...” Is all you can say, and to you it seems ineffectual but hearing it makes Jungkook shudder and press closer. You note it carefully, with a rush of affection.

“It’s okay, though.”

“Do you believe you’re awake now?” you test him suspiciously, and watch him draw back an inch, eyes flitting around the room from himself, to the rumpled duvet, back to you for a beat and a half; then, curiously, he draws forward again, tucking his face under your chin, nuzzling his nose below your jaw where you spray your perfume, and breathes in. Your whole body locks up in response to the sudden closeness, and a wave of heat radiates out all over you directly from your core when you feel the unmistakable sensation of his tongue flitting out in an open mouthed kiss there, and then again, and then again.

“Mm... think ‘s real.” His voice is suddenly so much deeper than you’re used to, and you have to swallow, hard, in order collect yourself enough to speak, and still when you try at first it comes out as a bit of a squeak.

“Wh- What could you possibly have learned from that? Dream me never let you kiss my neck?”

“Oh, no. Not that,” He smiles, and you can’t see him, but you can still tell, because he hasn’t lifted his lips from your skin, and his pretty teeth drag gently over the tendon in your neck. “Dreams can feel real and they can look real, but they don’t smell real. Don’t taste real.”

Jungkook leans up to peck you on the lips, properly, and you’d love to keep looking at his face, shrouded by fluffy, too-long hair, bangs falling in his eyes, skin smattered with precious moles and the barest hint of hair growing in from his most recent shave, which you’ve never been near enough to notice. You’d love to, but your eyes keep slipping shut when your lips meet. It’s hard to fight.

“What does real taste like?” you ask, when you can drag your eyes open again.

Jungkook’s looking right back at you.

“You tell me.”

This time as your mouths meet, you give all your attention to the slide of your tongue against his, dipping between his lips to taste, sucking on his pretty lower lip. It earns you a gasp followed by a very unsteady exhale, and even the breath tastes sweet. You reposition your hands, using the fingers of your right hand to cup his jaw and encourage him to leave it slack and open, so you can lick back in, chase his soft tongue, and control the kiss.

Your observations are as follows:

Number one: Real tastes like --toothpaste. Mint flavored and fresh

Number two: Real tastes like --chapstick. Sugar and citrus, like a lemon hard candy

Number three: Real tastes like --bubblegum, which is actually coming from you and sweetens everything else that much more, and

--A fourth thing, difficult to label. Something your brain could never quite have conjured up, no matter how vivid the dream. Something that could only be intrinsically Jungkook.

Jungkook is breathing hard, some of them breathlessly voiced, almost moans. In the process of pursuing your single-minded goal you’ve managed to tip him on his back, lying short-ways across the bed, the wrong way. It looks to you as though the change in dynamic is affecting him considerably. Heat tinges the tips of his ears and you can faintly see his bangs beginning to stick to his skin. It makes your heart race, lightheaded from the power of it and perhaps a lack of oxygen.

“I think... I think I get it.”

Your words appear to call him back from another place, his eyes opening almost as if from deep sleep, heavy lidded, but with pupils blown, his chest heaving with each labored breath in. A beat passes before he flashes his teeth at you in a swift smile of understanding. You smile back.

It would have been hard, (no pun intended,) from this angle, not to have noticed the situation in Jungkook’s sweats by now, and you’re definitely aware of it. It’s encouraging.

You swing a leg over his body until you’re straddling his waist. You pause, glance at the clock on the bedside table and see that about a half an hour has passed already. You look back again, narrowing your eyes at Jungkook laid out beneath you, then back at the clock, and then bring your hands to the hem of your shirt and lift.

Jungkook only has time to begin to sit up, propping himself up on his elbows by the time you’ve whipped the offending article off, over your hair, like ripping off a band-aid, not giving yourself the chance to worry about doing it. It leaves you in your bra and your jeans, and the cute ankle socks with the little jello blobs on them. Jungkook said he liked these, once.

You don’t have the time to get anxious about not having had enough notice to change into one of your sexier bras, because he’s transferred his weight to one arm, elbow locked behind him, and reached out with his free hand to smooth over your side, wide, warm hand electric on the newly exposed skin, all done as if in a trance, like his hands are moving of their own accord. Gaze glued to you.

“Oh,” he exhales all at once, like all the air has been punched out of him, and, all right, yeah, that’s flattering. It might have something to do with the way your weight settles over his crotch, as well, but that’s neither here nor there. “Oh, wow.” Your tummy flips again, as you wrap your arms around his neck. His hand is still wandering, trailing the backs of his fingers tenderly down over your belly button, to your lower stomach, barely enough pressure not to tickle, then curling his fingers over your hip and stroking with his thumb. The hand travels behind your back, up to the clasp of the bra, where he hesitates, “Can I?”

When you nod your head, your hair moves, brushing your shoulders and poking the bared skin, prompting you to toss your head to the side to relieve the itchy sensation. You reclaim one of your own hands to assist the boy under you with the hooks, and between the two of you, you manage to get the thing done. You hold your breath, nervous, waiting for him to slide the straps from your shoulders, but he seems to sense your impulse to do so and kisses you first.

Slowly, gradually, his mouth moves down along your jaw, to your neck. He drops lingering, open-mouthed kisses all the way down your throat to your clavicles, and across to one shoulder, meeting up with the point where he left off kissing up your arm when you were relating back to him the details of your first kiss together. In the process, your left bra strap is brushed aside gently by his nose as it draws over your skin, and you inhale sharply as he continues down, tonguing the new expanse of skin bared to him, in no hurry, kissing your breast and taking the nipple into his curious, exploring mouth.

Your back arches toward him with no conscious direction from your brain, but Jungkook is there with his free hand pressed firmly against your shoulder blades, pulling your body closer to him anyway. You can feel a moan you’re trying not to vocalize begin to slip out, but Jungkook beats you to it, laving his tongue over your sensitive nipple and groaning out a soft, “Ahh,” followed by a low, rumbling hum before he looks up from under his eyelashes coquettishly and begins to suck. The moan you’ve been holding back escapes without your permission, as your head falls back, all strength in your body and the ability to hold yourself up threatening to fail at once.

The noises his mouth makes are wet and lewd, and if your panties hadn’t already begun to feel uncomfortably hot and sticky some time ago, chafing against the denim at the seams between your thighs, they would have at that. He draws off after a minute, releasing your breast with a filthy sounding pop to give attention to the other. It leaves your bare skin prickled with goosebumps and briefly cold with the saliva from his attention.

Miraculously, your other bra strap still clings stubbornly to your shoulder, the cups still dangling down your front between your bodies until Jungkook’s fingers slide beneath the fabric and finally coax it off and away, allowing you to slip your arms out. He deposits it at the foot of the bed.

With the barrier gone he resumes his ministrations, kissing across your ribs and lingering for a moment directly over your heart, beating at a furious pace as a direct result of everything he’s doing to you. He continues on to lavish all the same attention on your right breast. Seems only fair, to him.

He does want to make use of his other hand, however, and tease you with his mouth and his hands at the same time, so he sits up a little further, pressing forward until you get the hint and sit up to let him rearrange your positions slightly.

You’re pliant in his arms and willing to be maneuvered up to a point, and that point is that you’re ready to no longer be the only one undressed, and you’re impatient to get him out of his baggy hoodie, so you each rise to your knees, face to face, and you slip your fingers beneath the hem of it until your fingers curl over his sides. You find that he’s bare skinned underneath the sweatshirt, and quickly realize with a shiver that knowing intellectually that he doesn’t tend to wear layers under his hoodies is one thing, and it doesn’t compare to knowing it intimately, physically, which is another. His skin is warm, warm and soft beneath the pads of your fingertips.

You’re so overwhelmed to have the opportunity to touch him like this your hands are shaking, but you power through, needing to feel him and know him and make him feel good. You draw your hands further up, feeling the divots in his ribs when he inhales hard and his ribcage expands to contain the breath. The sweatshirt rides up with your hands, gradually bunching and folding until you reach his underarms, brushing soft hair for a second and he lifts his arms to allow you to slip it off, over his head.

His face briefly disappears from view and then reappears on the other side of the collar, hair ruffled and eyes searching for your reaction, your approval or disapproval.

(As if you would ever be disappointed by anything you found under Jungkook’s clothes.)

You run your hands over his swelling pecs, as he takes one deep breath after another, then down over his abs and then back up again to smooth over his shoulders, just trying to drink it all in.

“Jesus Christ, Jungkook,” you whisper in awe, pulling him forward with all your upper body strength to crush his body to yours, and he responds by wrapping his arms around you and crushing you right back. Your lips find his cheek, then his nose, hands on either side of his face to aid your aim as you drop kisses all over it. You let one hand travel down his side to his hip and bring your mouth to his ear, experimentally taking his earring between your teeth and tugging as you manage to leverage one of your thighs between his legs and encourage him to rock down on it, all at once.

The reaction is immediate, Jungkook moans outright in arousal and surprise. You briefly let go of the earring to flick your tongue over the area, and then take it back in your mouth and pull again, gently, and it’s worth it for his body’s response, when you feel his cock jump in his pants where he’s pressed up against your thigh.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah? We like that?”

Jungkook merely groans in reply, and his left hand finds its way down your lower back to your jeans, sneaking under the waistband and then under the elastic of your underwear a few inches to grip your ass in his palm and angle your lower body so he can grind down on you, working his hips slowly, giving himself a little friction and then drawing away. His right hand finds your nipple again, plucking sharply to get you gasping and then pinching and rolling.

You give up moan after moan for him, everything he does to you just feels so fucking good, you can feel the dopamine saturating your brain with every second his hands and mouth are on you. Fuck, but you could get used to this.

You mouth along his jaw to his neck, letting your teeth graze his skin lightly to feel him shiver. Curious, you bite down a little, enough to sting and then lave your tongue over the spot. His hips stutter and you smile to yourself.

“Hey, baby,” you address him, dragging his hips down against you with a little more force.

It earns you a stuttered, “U-Uh- Uh huh?”

You let your mouth travel back up to his ear, ask him softly,

“Do you think you could come like this?” making sure your lips brush his skin as you say it.

“Fuck,” he grits out, letting his head fall forward onto your shoulder, like he lacks the strength in his neck to hold it up anymore. “You can’t just say shit like that.” But his hips work down on your thigh over and over again on their own, so you prompt him,

“But can you?”

“Oh, god. I don’t- I don’t know. Yeah, probably. You’re so hot. I’m so hard. Probably, yes.”

You grin into his hair, “That’s my baby. What a good boy for me.”

And Jungkook... honest to god whimpers against your skin.

Whose life you must have saved in a past reincarnation to deserve this, you don’t know, but you decide just to thank your lucky stars, and back up just a little, to move until you’re lying down against the pillows, right way up in Jungkook’s bed, holding your arms out for him to follow you there.

Jungkook’s head snaps up as soon as you start to move backwards, like he thinks something might be wrong, but he gets the picture quickly and settles his weight over you easily, slotting your leg back between his and grinding down immediately.

He captures your lips in a bruising kiss before breaking it to ask, concern clear in his eyes,

“What about you?” And his hand rests over the button of your jeans, waiting for your permission, but as much as it pains you, you have to shake your head, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

Your eyes find his and you tell him, “Another day, Jungkookie, baby. We don’t have time.” Your eyes flit over to the bedside table with the digital clock on it, ruthlessly bearing the current time, and then back to his face, tilted up at you, open, waiting for an explanation. “Tae will be home in ten minutes. He’s bringing friends.”

A pout forms on Jungkook’s kiss swollen lips. Oh, no. Oh no. “Jungkook, we can’t. Do you want him to walk in on us in the middle of this?” And Jungkook’s eyes suddenly drop from your face like he can’t hold your gaze, but you feel the tell-tale twitch of his cock in his pants. There’s no way you wouldn’t. Jungkook clearly knows this, because he screws his eyes up, shut tight. Oh.

“You do? Oh, Jungkook. Oh, come here, baby.” He resists for the briefest of moments, but he lets you take his face in your hands and connect your lips again, and starts to roll his hips again, a little harder than before, but his eyes stay screwed shut. “You’d be into that, huh? Taehyung coming home and looking for you, coming to see what all the noise is behind your door and swinging it open to see your big, hard cock buried in my dripping pussy?” You pause for a second. “Is this okay?”

Jungkook chokes on nothing, but nods frantically, thrusts speeding up. “I’m so wet, Jungkook. You did that to me. Make me feel so good.” He’s moaning freely, now, face buried in the crook of your neck, one of his hands kneading your breast like his life depends on it. “You know, we didn’t lock the door. He could get home early. Would we hear him come in? Over all that pretty noise you’re making? Do you think we’d hear in time to stop? I don’t think so.”

You give in to the impulse to bury a hand in his hair again, scraping your nails gently against his scalp, brushing his bangs up off his forehead, then gripping a handful at the crown of his head and pulling, a little less gentle this time. Your other hand slips under the waistband of his sweats to take a handful of his ass and help him frot hard against you. You can feel the muscles flexing under your fingers, as he pants open-mouthed, breath fanning hot and damp over your neck.

This is unquestionably the hottest sex you’ve ever had, and you’re not even fucking. Neither of you are even totally naked. But Jungkook moans, brokenly, hips stuttering, and he says,

“I’m... I think I’m gonna come,”

“That’s my good boy, come for me. That’s right. Go ahead and make yourself come for me, baby.”

His face scrunches up and he gets out through gritted teeth, “Hurts,” and you slacken your grip on his hair immediately, ready to let go, but his eyes snap open and his hand flies to your wrist in a blur of motion. “No! Please- Please keep- my hair, fuck, I’m so close. Fuck,” So you wrap your fingers back in the soft, faintly curly strands and tentatively give another tug. “Ngh. Wasn’t- what I meant.” He gestures toward his crotch, and in following his movement you get an eyeful of his v line descending down under his sweatpants, and the fabric has ridden low enough at this point that it’s solely being held up by his straining erection. You can see the beginnings of a trim patch of pubic hair peeking over the waistband, and a distinct dark, wet spot decorates the place where the head of his cock must be. It makes your mouth dry to look at, but you catch his meaning. The friction must be overwhelming.

“Just a little more, baby,” you encourage him. “I know you can do it, you dirty thing. You aren’t wearing underwear, are you, sweetheart?”

Jungkook blushes to the tips of his ears, and with his shirt off you can see the way it travels down, down, all the way over his chest. Mouthwatering.

“I- I wasn’t expecting-”

“That’s what I thought. Just want to be caught, huh? Like the danger of it? The thought that someone might see you with your cock out in your sweatpants and know?” This earns you another whimper.

Then, “You.”

“Hm?”

“You, I wanted you to know. I wanted you to notice. Maybe. If I could be brave enough to... Thought maybe you might- oh, fuck, fuck. Thought you might see, think of me sometime... if you were getting off, by yourself... oh, god.”

Your turn to moan.

“Jesus Christ, that’s so hot.”

“Can you- Can I touch myself? Please, I’m so close, please let me touch myself.”

“Not this time, baby, I want you to come like this or not at all, can you do that for me?”

Jungkook whines louder, hips frantically rutting against you, desperate to come.

You lean and latch your mouth to the juncture behind his jaw that you noted was so sensitive, earlier, working the patch of skin between your teeth and gripping his hair tight at the same time.

With any luck, this is going to leave a beautiful, mottled mark and he won’t forget every time he looks in a mirror, and it’ll be in plain view to everyone else who sees him until it eventually fades. You’ll just have to create new ones, when that happens. The thought that this might happen again in the future between you fills you with a bubbly, giddy joy despite the knowledge that there’s no time for you to get off, this time. It’s all right. You’re playing the long game, here.

Jungkook suddenly tenses up hard and gasps out, “‘M gonna come, please, can I? Oh god, I’m gonna come.”

“Go ahead, baby. My good boy. Come for me.”

And he does, body locking up, every muscle in his abdomen flexing and quivering, veins standing out in his forearms, neck, and forehead, sweat dripping off the line of his jaw. He’s a vision, hovering over you, spilling into his pants and gasping heaving breaths. He opens his eyes in the last couple seconds as come stains the fabric between his legs, staring directly into your eyes. His irises are almost invisible, pupils blown and lids low and heavy. You can’t stop the full body shiver that wracks you from head to toe. That’s an image that’s going to stay with you when you’re alone in a cold bed from now on.

“Kiss me,” he demands. And you do, stroking his hair, gently now, sweeping it back off his forehead and smoothing it behind his ears.

His tongue slips out between your lips lazily, tangling with yours in a soft, sated dance for a long minute, until he appears to lose the ability to hold himself up with his arms and drops all his weight bodily on top of you.

“Oof,” you huff involuntarily. His head has landed conveniently on top of your chest, directly between your boobs. He hums from this position, utterly content, gooey pants and all. “Jungkook.”

“Mm?”

“We gotta get up.”

“Mm mm. No.”

“Tae is due in like, t minus two minutes. I need to change my underwear before company gets here. You need... a tissue and some fresh pants, at the very least.”

“Don’ wanna think about it.”

“Where’s my bra?”

“Nooo,” comes the protest from your, soft, sleepy, sexed out sweetheart. He’s very hard to say no to.

“Come on,” You slap his sweaty bicep to no effect. You really don’t want Taehyung to find you like this. Heaving a deep sigh, you decide it’s time for your last resort.

Your fingers dart to Jungkook’s sides and dig in, tickling him mercilessly. His entire body heaves and twists up off you involuntarily, up and away from your reaching hands.

“Cheating!” he protests through his giggles as you squirm out from under him in the aftermath. You really do need to change your underwear. And probably your pants, too.

You grab your bra and your shirt from where they each landed respectively, putting them back on while Jungkook sits on the bed, looking vaguely put out, pushing out his bottom lip at you.

“Aww,” you coo, coming back over to give him the kisses his expression is crying out for. Petulantly, he kisses back, but continues to pout, even as he scoots to the edge of the bed, making a face as the mess in his pants shifts when he moves, no doubt gross by now.

“I need a shower,” he sighs. “Why did you do this to me?”

You laugh outright at him, and decide he deserves it when you say, “Because you were begging to come, Jeon Jungkook.”

He scrunches up his nose in response, now standing, at least.

“I am getting you back for this.”

“I look forward to it,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him again, slow. You’re not even a little tired of this. Not even close.

Your eyes are closed, but you sense movement near your waist, so you open them, only to see Jungkook shucking his pants, using the bunched up material to wipe up the worst of the cum on his lower belly, and chucking the whole mess into the hamper in the corner. Despite all you’ve done today, this is the first time you’re seeing Jungkook properly naked, and you find yourself blushing and snapping your eyes to the ceiling, looking anywhere else.

He laughs at you, predictably.

“Oh, after saying all that to me, you’re gonna get shy now?”

“It’s different!” you squeak, unable to tell if it’s safe to look back yet.

“What’s different?” Nope, definitely not safe. If anything it’s less safe. His voice is very close to your ear, now. You keep your eyes determinedly locked on the ceiling fan. It needs to be dusted.

“It just is.”

“Because that was in the middle of sex, and now the sex is over, suddenly you’re flustered?” You just nod. “What if sex isn’t over, then? Will you look at me then?”

“Huh?”

And now Jungkook’s hands are on you, thumbing your sides, sliding under the shirt you just put back on. You dare to let your gaze fall back on his face, but no lower.

“I said, ‘What if it isn’t over.’”

“But it is. You just came.”

“You didn’t.”

“You just came!”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“So?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

He just shrugs one shoulder. “Trust me, I can go again, if that’s what you want. You drive me crazy. But I don’t have to, I want to make it about you.” A pause, where he glances over his shoulder, then, “I’ll lock the door this time.”

It’s a lot to take in. You groan, smoothing your hands over his bare chest and squeezing your eyes shut. Try to remember the reasons it’s not a good idea. It’s difficult. Every fiber of your being wants him.

You give in a little, just enough to kiss him again, allowing your hands to travel down his back, scraping your nails over his skin just a little to feel him groan into your mouth, smoothing your palms over the globes of his ass and squeezing indulgently. You feel his cock, oh, god, perk up in interest already and decide, no, that will have to be enough for now. Giving him one last peck on the lips, you pull away.

“Later,” you promise, smiling.

Jungkook looks disappointed, but he still says, “Fine. Later.” And you can already see his eyes shifting to a darker shade, cogs in his head making plans for you.

You suppress a shiver, and slip out the door.

[Part 2 is now up!]

[daffodilon]

cafuné ii

cafuné - (brazilian portuguese)

“the act of running your fingers through your lover’s hair; among the few words that cannot be directly translated into english”

Pairing: Jungkook / ♀ Reader Rating: E for Explicit Genre(s): 🍭 Fluff, 🔞 Smut,  🍌 (Attempted) Humor WC: 10,448 Warnings: Sexual content, porn with feelings, shower sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), wet and messy, dirty talk, hair pulling kink, definitely some light hand and finger kink, like, jungkook fucking your mouth with his fingers, elements of exhibitionism, elements of possessiveness, excessive use of the word fuck, jungkook naked and soaking wet should be his own warning, baby boy jungkook, and as usual dom/sub dynamics if you squint. Maybe you don’t have to squint that hard. Obligatory warning for me trying to be funny. Un-betaed, but I have done my best to proofread it myself. 

Summary: 

Yesterday you accidentally tripped up. You fell, crashing and burning, stumbling your way through what could probably be called the World’s Clumsiest Confession, letting your roommate, Jungkook, know about your feelings for him. 

Incredibly, Jungkook returns your feelings, and you subsequently found yourself somehow blessed with a lap full of him, kissing you like you’re worth worshiping and grinding against your thigh until he fell apart in your arms at your encouragement. Unfortunately the two of you were interrupted before you got the chance to take it further, and you went to bed alone and unsatisfied, but not before Jungkook promised, beautiful and determined, that he’d make it up to you. 

Today, Jungkook makes it up to you. (And, since you’ve gone about things a little out of order, he asks you out properly to make that up to you, too.) 

If you haven’t read it, here’s part one. I highly recommend it! 

I have also, er. compiled a collection of... visual aids for the shower scene. You’re welcome.

“... Hey. Do you want to go out to dinner?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Where do you want to go?”

“No, I mean. Uh. Do you want to go have dinner? With me?”

“Yeah, that sounds good, the fridge is basically empty anyway. Maybe we could stop at the grocery store on the way home.”

Jungkook huffs out an exasperated sigh.

“No, I mean, --I’m trying to ask you out to dinner with me. Like, on a date.”

You have to smile at him.

“Yeah, dumbass, and I’m trying to say yes.”

“You- Oh.” He blinks and huffs again, but this time it’s with a laugh, bringing up one hand to rub the back of his neck, as if suddenly shy.

“Come here,” You beckon him over to you, smiling, standing by the counter where you just put the hot water on for tea.

You extend your arms, reaching for his waist as he shuffles forward into your personal space. You bite your lip when you notice his eyes drop to your mouth like he can’t help it, before accepting the sweet kiss he presses there.

You’re the one who called him over, but your heart still jumps in your chest when your lips first touch. You let yourself get lost in it, inhaling through your nose and tilting your head to lean into the hand that finds its way into your hair.

It’s the first time you’ve had the chance to do this since yesterday, and it’s perfect. Just a hint of tongue and teeth, mostly the press of lips and the quietly bubbling excitement of something that’s still so new, new, new.

You break apart after a moment, and Jungkook asks,

“So, just to clarify here, you’re agreeing to come on a dinner date? To... You know. Date me?”

Jesus Christ, he’s cute.

“Jungkook, I am agreeing to date you. Effective immediately. Let’s go to dinner. Do you want it in writing?”

Jungkook smiles back at you big, “No, that’s okay.”

“Okay.”

You struggle a bit to turn around and find yourself a cup, mostly because Jungkook doesn’t seem inclined to let go. So you squirm in his arms until he gets the picture and lets you turn around, but then he pushes forward again until his chest is flush with your back and hooks his chin over your shoulder, so he’s wrapped around you completely. You resign yourself to your snuggly new fate and shuffle around the kitchen after your tea and your favorite infuser with him glued to your back. “Do you want a cup?”

“Yes. please.”

“Green?”

“Green.”

You turn your face toward his and plant a kiss on his cheek, just because you can. Because you want to, and you’re allowed to do that now. The thought calls up those giddy butterflies in your tummy again.

“So where do you want to go for dinner?” you ask.

“I don’t know, I was thinking someplace kind of nice, maybe.”

“Mm. Italian?”

“I like Italian. What about that winery place we were thinking of trying?”

“Are we talking about going out for dinner?” A new voice joins the conversation suddenly. “Good idea.”

“Oh! Tae.” You turn around together to face Taehyung, as he enters the kitchen toting a handful of dirty dishes and moves toward the sink to rinse them. “Did you just eat?”

“No,” Taehyung says with a straight face, moving his empty bowl and chopsticks behind his back. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Are you sure?”

Jungkook speaks up, still attached to your back and refusing to let go. His jaw moves against your shoulder when he says, without an inch of remorse, “Taehyung, you’re not invited.”

Taehyung pushes out his lower lip, and he looks like he’s about to complain, so you fill in, “It’s a date.”

Jungkook nods as best he can without lifting his head.

Taehyung looks from you, to Jungkook, back to you, and back to Jungkook again several times, like he’s trying to tell if this is some kind of prank. Then, suddenly, his shoulders fall back down to a normal place from where they’d been drawn up defensively.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, finally.” He sets down his dishes and makes a beeline straight for you, takes your face in his hands and says, “Thank god,” before planting a kiss square on your nose. While you’re still sputtering, he moves on to Jungkook, taking his face in his hands as well and giving a matching kiss to Jungkook’s scrunched up nose with a wet smack. “Thank fucking god. You two are the worst. I love you both so much. Go enjoy your candlelit evening. I ate all the leftover stir fry.”

You sigh, still pawing at your nose with the corner of your sleeve, feeling a little like a cat trying to have a bath. “I knew it. That was going to be my lunch tomorrow.”

“Sorry. Pick up some more yogurts while you’re out?” Taehyung asks, flashing his teeth and raising his eyebrows, “Please? You’re my favorite roommates and I love you the best.”

“You just said we’re the worst!” Jungkook protests in a petulant tone from somewhere near your ear.

“That’s true,” Taehyung nods solemnly. “Jungkook is no fun to play Mario Kart with anymore. He loses on purpose every time you walk through the living room just to get up and go talk to you.”

“Wait, he what?”

“... And you never side with me against Jungkook like you used to. When I say, ‘Yah, Jungkookie, you’re working out too much, roll your sleeves back down,’ you used to take my side but now you just get all blush-y and mumble-y, and make excuses why you need to be in the kitchen when Jungkook gets out of the shower after he gets home from the gym.”

All you can do is splutter nervously, “What? When have I ever-”

“And don’t even get me started on that.” Taehyung rounds on Jungkook again.

He’s trying to wag his finger accusingly but he’s wearing, for lack of a better description, what appears to be a My Little Pony crop top, so the effect is a little ruined. It’s unclear at a glance whether the shirt in question was actually designed to be a crop top or simply a normally fitted shirt for a significantly more child-sized person.

To be clear, it’s actually extremely cute on him. Most things are. It’s just not particularly threatening.

He steamrolls on, clearly having a lot to say on the subject. “Do you go to the one gym in the world that doesn’t have showers? Why are you waiting until you get home to shower anyway? I’ll tell you why. It’s because you like to walk in the door all sweaty and make sure she’s watching before you fill up your water bottle in the sink and flex while you drink it. You’re the worst. Both of you. But I forgive you. Because I love you. Buy me yogurt?”

Taehyung reaches the end of his tirade so abruptly it leaves you in a mild state of shock, but not so shocked you can’t at least defend, “I spend so much time in this kitchen because I like it here. This is my kitchen. I cooked that stir fry you just ate, Kim Taehyung.”

“Yeah, and I shower at home because there’s, um. Better water pressure,” Jungkook pipes up.

“Sure,” Taehyung says, grinning wide enough to let you know he doesn’t believe you in the slightest. Then his expression softens, “Congratulations, both of you. I mean it.” He looks from one of you to the other, and turns to go.

“Love you, too, Tae,” Jungkook calls after him.

“Sorry Taehyung. Thank you, we do love you,” You echo.

He waves a hand in acknowledgement without turning around, disappearing the way he came.

“... Do you really lose at Mario Kart just to come talk to me?”

“Not ever, once in my life,” Jungkook asserts staunchly and without a moment’s hesitation. “Do you wait around for me to get out of the shower on purpose?”

“Taehyung is a snitch and I am going to get him back.”

Jungkook laughs and uses his grip on your waist to spin you around and kiss you.

“I knew you liked the muscles.”

You run your hands over his biceps and squeeze gently, and Jungkook obligingly flexes a little, just for your benefit. You swallow hard.

“They’re... fine.”

He laughs again.

“I do feel a little bad. Taehyung may or may not have been the one to deal with the brunt of my late night breakdowns about you.”

“Kind of him not to bring that one up just now.”

“Very kind,” He agrees.

“Who knew he was pulling his punches back there. Want to bring him home some food?”

“I will take tiramisu in a to go box, thank you!” Taehyung’s booming voice comes carrying from not at all that far beyond the doorway.

Jungkook winces. “Oh no.”

You chuckle at his consternation. “Oh, yes.”

“Oh, yeah,” Comes the Kool Aid Man impression from right around the corner.

Jungkook closes his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Goodbye, hyung,” he says in a pointed tone.

Silence greets you both. “... Do you think he’s gone?”

“Who cares?” You shrug.

“I care.”

“You do?” You raise an eyebrow. “Well. That wasn’t what it seemed like, yesterday, when you-”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook yelps, as soon as he catches on to exactly what direction that sentence was headed, silencing you with one sweaterpaw and an expression of panic on his face.

Your shoulders shake with barely controlled laughter.

“Shut up!” he squawks, breaking into a higher register. “Oh my god. We are not going to talk about this right now. Are you going to shower before dinner?” He changes the subject quickly. You nod, looking up at him with mirth in your eyes. “Okay. Okay, you go do that. And then change into something nice.”

Jungkook steers you around, pushing you towards the bathroom determinedly, refusing to lift his hand from your mouth until you’re safely over the threshold and standing in front of the bathroom sink. “Come get me when you get out?”

All you can do is laugh at him some more and nod again, and he closes the door behind himself, looking flustered. It fills you with satisfaction to know that you put that flush on his face.

It’s been approximately thirty minutes when you hear three quick knocks on the door in the middle of shaving.

“Hello?” You call, “Hang on a sec, I’m just-”

--The door begins to open, and with a lurch of panic you realize Jungkook must never have locked the door. “I’m in the shower! I’ll be-”

“-It’s just me.”

“... Jungkook?” You squint through the steam and the frosted glass of the shower doors. The drafty rush of air from the moment he let himself in pricks cold against your skin as warm air escapes before he closes the door behind him.

“You’re taking forever in here.”

Recognition softens the sharp edge of the panic of being walked in on, but only so far. You are still naked in the shower, after all.

“What are you doing?” You blink hard a few times to clear your vision, trying to see what the blurry shape of him that moves around the bathroom is up to.

“I’m taking a shower with my girlfriend.”

“Jungkook!!” You squeak, at the same time as the shower door slides open without warning and a very naked Jungkook steps over the edge of the bathtub to join you. “Oh my god, give me a little warning, first! What the fuck!” You protest, trying to hide your blush, doing your best to cross one arm across your chest and conceal yourself by crossing your legs with what you hope is subtlety. Your right hand still grips your shaving razor.

Jungkook only laughs at you.

“I was starting to get worried there wouldn’t be time for me to take my shower, too. Will you let me get my hair wet? I’m getting cold over here.”

You step around him carefully, letting him have a turn under the warm spray, facing you. He closes his eyes and lets the water cascade over his face, sighing. You can’t help but notice the goosebumps that cover his exposed skin, and will yourself not to look down, heart thudding steady at a mile a minute.

But then, “Don’t be shy,” He says softly, with his eyes still closed. “You’ll make me feel shy.”

“O- Okay. I’ll um. Do my best,” You tell him, forcing yourself to let your hand fall from its protective place on the opposite shoulder and put the razor down while you’re at it.

Jungkook raises his arms to push his hair off his forehead, brushing it out of his eyes and smoothing it back over his scalp with his hands, muscles bunching in his arms on either side of his head.

Christ.

He’s so casually breathtaking, it’s unfair.

It makes you itch to touch, so you take a breath and just... do. You reach out, resolving to focus on him as opposed to yourself and not to overthink it, and let your hands find his shoulders, smoothing over the skin and catching the water.

You find as you do so that he seems to let out a breath as if he was holding it, relaxing some more under your touch and letting his arms fall down to his sides again.

You cradle his face in your hand and are overcome with a rush of endearment as he nuzzles your palm and leans into the touch, and slots open his eyes to read your expression.

“Can I wash your hair?” You ask him softly, carding the fingers of your free hand through the wet strands.

“Mhmm,” He nods, blinking water out of his eyes, voice a low rumble that sends tremors through your very bones. “If you want.”

You want, all right.

You want.

You swallow hard around the lump your heart makes in your throat, and tamp it down as best you can.

You reach for his shampoo, only to be arrested by his quiet noise of dissent. “Can you, um.” He pinks slightly under the spray of hot water. “Can you use yours on me instead?”

“Mine?”

“I like the smell. You don’t have to.”

“No, that’s okay. We can use mine.”

You lather your hands in your favorite fragrant shampoo, managing to remember at the last second that you don’t need as much product for him as you’d use yourself, and start to work the sudsy mess gently into Jungkook’s hair, pulling him towards you and out from directly under the shower head.

A look of absolute peace crosses Jungkook’s face, and he lets out a happy sigh as you massage his scalp with your fingertips, the gorgeous scent filling your noses.

The smell of this shampoo accounts for approximately ninety percent of the reason you buy it, something like lemon, like jasmine, like roses, or lilies maybe. Light and beautiful with a gentle musky scent underpinning it all, grounding the rest of the floral notes in something quietly sultry.

And maybe... if you’re being honest, you’ve been a drugstore shampoo girl most of your life, but then one fateful day you received a sample in a bag of freebies. You tried it out once, and, yeah you were impressed with the smell, but you had every intention of using it up and going back to your old shampoo after... until later that day you leaned over Jungkook where he sat working on some project or other to ask him something.

He must have caught a whiff of your hair, because he got an odd look on his face before stammering out, “You, um. Smell really, really good, today. Whatever, uh, whatever you’re wearing.”

And what could you do then? After that glowing endorsement, you had to go out and buy the full sized bottle, and the conditioner with it. You didn’t have a choice, as far as you were concerned, even though you’re pretty sure your bank account shed actual tears over it, which is weird, because it’s primarily an abstract concept and lacks tear ducts or the emotional ability to grapple with the idea of loss.

Anyway, it’s been a feature in your shower ever since.

None of that matters, now, though, because now you have Jungkook with you, right before your very eyes, melting into putty in your hands in real time, and five minutes ago he called you his girlfriend for the first time and you’re, perhaps, possibly, potentially not over it.

You send up a silent prayer of thanks to the incredibly intimidating Sephora employee with the red extensions for dropping that sample in your bag before moving on with your romantic moment. You really came through for me, girl. Amen. Let’s get back to what’s important.

What’s important is the freckle under Jungkook’s lip. You may be nearsighted, but his face is pretty damn near right now. His mouth is directly in your line of sight, and it is begging to be kissed, from where you’re standing.

You ask, “Ready to rinse?”

Jungkook nods, a close-lipped smile on his face. You guide him back under the water, gently coaxing his head this way and that and keeping up your scalp massage until all the suds are washed away, leaving only silky clean tresses and the fresh scent of citrus and flowers behind.

Then you crowd in and close the distance to attend to the freckle under his lower lip, and then his lips properly, because they’re right there, and then the tip of his nose because there’s water droplets there.

Jungkook huffs a laugh at this behavior and brings his hands up to your sides, gripping your arms and smoothing his thumbs over the skin, and that’s when you realize how cold you’ve gotten, standing on the other side of the tub and engrossed with more important things than your own comfort.

But Jungkook’s hands are warm, and the contrast has you shuddering, so you don’t fight him at all when he pulls you even closer, even when you feel the rush of sensation that accompanies your stiff nipples brushing the bare skin of his chest, because he radiates heat. Even when you sense the unmistakable press of his length between his legs against your hip.

You just push forward until the negative space is shoved aside and there’s no gap, no air at all between your body and his, and let go of the tension you’ve been holding inside. Tuck your face in the crook of his neck. Just breathe him in. Feel yourself relax a little further.

“How are you finding the water pressure?” You ask against his neck, just to be a shit.

A snort from overhead.

“Phenomenal, thank you for checking in.”

The smile steals over your face without your permission.

You graze your teeth over the skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder, just to feel him shiver, before dropping a kiss on the same spot and taking a step away briefly to squeeze conditioner into your hands, next.

His eyes on you the entire time makes your face burn, but you’re trying to ignore it. You told him you’d do your best, so by god you’re gonna fucking try.

Smoothing the same scented conditioner through his hair is the work of just a couple minutes, and when you’re done, you allow him to spin you around and trade places, until you’re in the path of the spray again.

“Your lips were starting to turn blue,” he explains. “I can’t take you out to dinner with pneumonia.”

“Thank you,” you tell him appreciatively. “Frankly I’m shocked we haven’t run out of hot water, yet.”

“God, no kidding. What were you even doing in here that was taking so long?”

“I was shaving!” You reiterate defensively, feeling your voice pitch a little higher. “Men have no idea what women go through in the name of soft legs, I swear to god. Sugar scrubs, waxing, shaving, lotions and moisturizers, electric depilatory treatments? Do not open this can of worms, Jeon Jungkook.”

He’s gazing at you openly with a wide, happy smile on his face, and he does not look at all apologetic for giving you a hard time.

“Okay, I won’t. Do you want to finish while I soap up, and then get out of here? Before, I don’t know, the winery closes and we have to have our first date at a twenty four hour McDonald’s?”

“You are a brat and a menace, Jungkook.”

“So, yes?”

“... Fine. Yes, okay.”

Luckily, you’ve already done one leg. You get Jungkook to pass you your shaving cream and take up your razor again, and begin to work the other one, starting at your ankle, focusing below the knee for now.

You’ve made some limited progress, having achieved an acceptable standard of smoothness over a small section of your shin when Jungkook makes a shocked noise and you whip your head up to look at him, wide eyed with worry.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He pauses, his upper body dripping with foaming bubbles from the soap he’s been vigorously scrubbing with for the past minute. “Nothing, I just... oh my god, you can’t see what you’re doing.”

“What?”

“You’re, like, shaving by feel.” He gestures with the bar of soap in his hand, “That’s why this takes you so long. Oh my god that is so dangerous.”

“What? I can see, kind of. There’s lather here and there’s no lather here. I took my contacts out, I’m not blind.”

“You are blind. I have personally witnessed you mistake Tae for me before with your contacts out.”

“Oh my god, one time! You’re the same height! His hair was dyed the same color as yours for a while! You share pajamas sometimes! It was a reasonable mistake to make.”

“Technically, Tae is taller than me, but I’ll take it. Give me that.”

“Give you... what? No! It’s not dangerous, I’ve been shaving this way since I was thirteen years old. I know what I’m doing. You, on the other hand, do not.”

“I bet I can help. We can make this go faster.”

“Jungkook...”

“Please?”

Jungkook has apparently figured out that you’re weak at close range. He crowds back into your space, making sure you can clearly see the puppy dog eyes he levels you with when he murmurs, “Let me help?”

And then he starts to sink to his knees, and then the panic starts to set in.

Oh, holy shit. His hand is wrapped around your lower thigh, not far above your knee, but high enough to scramble all your thoughts. And now his face is level with your midsection, and he looks up at you to maintain eye contact, expression open, hopeful, and faintly challenging. Like he’s daring you to tell him no.

You take a deep breath.

“It’s just me,” He said when he walked in. “Just me.”

It’s just Jungkook.

Jungkook, who sleeps with his mouth open and unironically enjoys Justin Bieber.

Jungkook, who handles you like he’s holding the whole world in his arms.

Jungkook, with his bunny smile and his big heart and his sparkling eyes.

Jungkook, who told you yesterday he’s in love with you.

With you of all people. You don’t know how you managed it. You’re not going to ask. You’re just going to hang on with both hands and be grateful.

On one hand, there is no “just,” when it comes to him. On the other hand... the implicit trust and safety you feel when he’s with you is enough to keep you afloat in the ocean of anxiety and insecurity you occupy.

He says he loves you. You trust him and therefore you have to believe what he told you was true. And therefore there’s no reason to be self conscious.

You hand him your razor.

“If I come out the other side of this looking like Edward Scissorhands I reserve the right to retaliate as I see fit. If I don’t get out unscathed neither do you, got it?”

Jungkook accepts his victory with a satisfied smile and a kiss pressed to the crease of your hip that makes you jump.

Jungkook just laughs at you and cautions, “Don’t do that when I start.”

“I’m,” You start, and then find you need to swallow a couple times in order to be able to get the sentence out. “I won’t. It was just a reflex.”

“Got it all out of your system?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay.”

He shifts his weight to one side, so that he’s down on one knee, like a parody of a proposal, which you don’t think about, not even for one second. You certainly don’t notice the way the soap on his torso drips down over his abdomen, or between his legs, while he’s otherwise occupied. Certainly not.

Jungkook’s fingers dip behind your knee to encourage you to lift your leg, and with the hand with the razor between his thumb and forefinger he uses the other fingers to tap his elevated knee, shaking his hair out of his eyes and blinking a few times, telling you wordlessly to prop your foot up. You carefully settle the arch of your foot over his knee, balancing with one hand on the shower wall.

Most of the shaving cream has rinsed off while you were talking, but he just grabs the can and lathers up a new palmful of foam. Glances up at you.

“You trust me, right?” He smiles.

It knocks all the air out of your chest like a sucker punch to the gut. This distinct lack of oxygen leaves it notably difficult to speak so you just... nod.

Because you do.

Trust him.

Body, mind and soul.

Too much, probably.

Then, carefully, he presses the razor gently against your lower leg, and drags it with even pressure all the way up to your knee. He pauses when he gets there, flicks his wrist to dislodge the pile of foam, rinses the razor head under the running water and repeats the same action, a little to the left.

You remind yourself to breathe.

He doesn’t go over the same areas twice, as you would if the razor was in your own hand, but whether that’s because he can actually see the hairs with his stupid perfect vision, or because you have better technique after all your years of shaving, remains to be seen. You sniff to yourself. You’ll be the judge of this little experiment.

To his credit, he does seem to know he needs to go top-to-bottom, against the direction the hairs grow, for the closest shave. (A skeptical voice in your head says, maybe he just saw you doing it that way, and he’s copying you. That’s also possible.)

In what you have to admit is record time, he’s finished. Carefully navigating your knee, cautious not to nick the skin with the sharp blades, all the way around your calf, fingers pressing little divots into your skin to persuade you to rotate your ankle this way and that.

He wraps both hands around your lower leg, then, dragging his fingers up and down, smoothing away the remains of the shaving cream and feeling for stray hairs.

He seems to find one or two places where stubble catches the pads of his hands, and he picks up the razor again to thoroughly remove them.

“See?” You chide from above, unable to quash the urge to be childish, “You’re using feel, too.”

He looks up at you, and when you catch his eye, you stick out your tongue.

Jungkook appears not to expect this and laughs in what could either be surprise or disbelief, then retorts,

“Maybe. But you can’t deny I’m faster. And anyway, maybe I just wanted the excuse to touch you.” He smiles, sneaky and self satisfied, mouth pressed to the inner side of your knee, having rinsed the majority of the soap away.

Your carefully measured breathing stutters, hard.

You flick him in the forehead admonishingly, in the fervent hope it won’t show.

“Jeon Jungkook, I can’t believe you had ignoble intentions.”

“I have nothing but ignoble intentions. I’m all ignoble, all the time. Can I keep going?”

You roll your eyes, but find yourself nodding anyway.

The process continues.

This time, he soaps up your upper leg and his fingers graze the crease of your inner thigh, brushing your bikini area before sliding briskly back down toward your knee.

You forget how to breathe for those few milliseconds.

His gently trailing fingers tickle, skin sensitive, and it makes you feel like squirming. You try not to.

Jungkook is done shaving your thigh quicker than you were prepared for, and before you know it he’s setting the razor aside, cupping his hands to catch a pool of warm water and smoothing them over the freshly shaved skin, rinsing away the remaining lather from your hip all the way down to your feet. He repeats this motion two more times, until he’s satisfied he hasn’t missed any spots and the soap has disappeared down the drain.

You’ve been working hard this whole time to keep your thoughts chaste and minimize your body’s physiological reactions to having the man of your dreams, on his knees, utterly naked, soaking wet, between your legs, and running his hands all over your bare skin.

It’s been an effort, you’re not going to lie.

All aforementioned effort goes to waste immediately when he bends forward to plant a kiss on your shin, only to relocate his lips an inch higher after a moment, over and over until he’s kissing his way up your leg past your knee and continuing on to lavish increasingly open mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, letting your foot find purchase again on the floor of the tub and scooting forward on his knees, following the path your inseam would take if you’d been wearing jeans. The catch is you’re very, very much not wearing jeans.

“Jungkook,” you stutter, reaching for him warningly, “Jungkook, what-”

You’re interrupted by your own hiss when he abruptly decides to take a small patch of skin high on your leg, just short of very dangerous territory, between his teeth and tug, closing his lips over the area and groaning softly. Arousal shoots through you for all the world like the first crack of thunder in a brewing storm; the one-two punch of a lightning strike of pleasure that curls deep in your belly and the subsequent answering heat and the slick feeling of wetness between your folds following a moment later like thunder, playing catch-up to the bolt from the blue.

Harbingers of an imminent downpour.

He releases the spot to switch to laving it with his tongue, so, so soft and an immediate contrast to the sharp sting of teeth over the quickly reddening area, and casts his eyes up to meet your gaze, just as you take his hair between your fingers, slippery with conditioner and falling, piecey, into his eyes.

“Is it later, yet?” he asks.

“Is it... what? Later?”

“Yeah, is it later, yet?” When he sees that you’re not immediately getting it, he prods, “I locked the door, this time. I promise.” And then he’s smiling, mischievous, running a palm up each of your thighs and then down again, hands wide and warm, eventually coming up again to reach around and smooth daringly over your ass before drawing away again to repeat the motion from start to finish, while you think.

It actually makes it rather difficult to think, but still, somehow, something clicks with the way he words it.

Oh.

Oh.

You don’t know why you thought you’d have more time to mentally prepare for this actually happening.

And, like he can read your mind, or maybe just like he’s just being his usual, spectacularly kind, considerate self, because that’s just what he’s like, he sits back on his heels and grips your knees, thumbing the sides of your legs gently and says, “You can tell me no. If it’s... if this is too soon.”  

But maybe that’s the thing.

Maybe finding out Jungkook likes you, too, is new.

And maybe remembering, freshly each time, that you can do things like voice those inner thoughts that are less platonic, more, “if-I-tell-you-this-there’s-no-way-you-won’t-know.”

Maybe that’s still a learning process.

But you have been pathetically in love with Jungkook for a long, long time. There have been an awful lot of opportunities for lying in bed, alone with your imagination, trying and failing to get off with the sole aid of your fingers and a faceless figment.

No matter how many times you told yourself it didn’t feel right to think of him in those moments, a real person, an ideal roommate, a good friend, your carefully nonspecific fantasy fails, night after night. It cracks and breaks until it features strong thighs, tan skin, a distinct cupid’s bow, familiar eyebrows, freckles, moles, and leaves you gasping for air, struggling to keep quiet; falling apart so that you can finally drift off to a sleep filled with heartbreakingly realistic dreams.

And the cumulative result of all those nights is... no, you don’t want to tell him no. You have waited and wanted for too fucking long.

Last night after you slipped out of Jungkook’s bed, fled to your own room to dispose of the evidence, re-emerged and pretended to be as unrattled and composed as always for the benefit of company, you found yourself left alone in your own bed again, the phantom press of Jungkook’s lips still tangible on your own mouth. The ghost of his hips crushed hard against yours. Heartbeat erratic with the memory of it all.

You barely slept.

Every instinct you had screamed that you needed to get up and sneak back into Jungkook’s room. His bed. His arms. But you stretched the thin remainder of all that was left of your threadbare self control and stayed rooted in place, all night.

You woke up in the morning, at a reasonable time, like a reasonable person.

You shook off the tiredness, and went to work, like an adult.

But now... right now it’s extremely difficult to call to mind whatever reasoning it was that kept you tethered to your own bed, hot, panting breaths muffled by the back of your own left hand against every vivid memory Jungkook left etched on the backs of your eyelids.

Jungkook and his hands. His mouth. His dark eyes.

His hair fucked up beyond fixing from your hands in it, his lips red and used looking from kissing all sense straight out of your ears.

The sound of his stuttered breathing. His moans.

His expression as he came.

Here and now, you press your lips tight together on a moan that Jungkook nonetheless hears, and he’s looking at you, patiently, but expectantly, waiting for a green light on your terms.

So you do your best to give him one.

“I- Okay. It, uh, can be later, now.”

“Yeah?” And then, one more time, because he’s good, good, good, he asks, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I want it. I want you,” You assure him, brushing back his fringe again, letting every overflowing drop of adoration in you bleed into the touch, and leaving it up to hope that he can feel it.

By the look he gives you, you dare to think maybe... maybe he can. You add softly, “Make me feel good, Jungkookie.”

“I can. I will,” He says, sitting up, pressing closer, eyes shining and determined. “Wanna make you feel so good.”

Jungkook nuzzles his whole face into the crease of your hip then, mouthing at your skin in the same way that made you jump the first time, and then adding a press of tongue that has you biting your cheek hard to stifle your vocal reaction.

Taehyung is presumably still home, adrift in the apartment somewhere within hearing range.

You’re not sure how you’re going to survive this with your dignity and the ability to look him in the eye intact, but right now the need curling in your gut is stronger than that worry and you just can’t bring yourself to put a stop to this solely on account of that.

Jungkook murmurs against your skin, “Can you hook your leg over my shoulder?” So you comply, letting him guide you into shifting your weight onto one foot. “Hang onto something,” he cautions.

Jungkook’s mouth travels, measured but eager, closing the distance until his nose presses against your pubic bone and his mouth is centered over your core, at which point he pauses, makes deliberate eye contact with you, spreads your folds with the fingers of his right hand, and at that same measured pace, licks upward and then closes his mouth over your clit in a wet kiss with a tantalizing amount of suction.

The one knee holding you up threatens to buckle almost immediately. You tighten your grip on the shower bar, rocking your hips involuntarily towards Jungkook’s face and whimpering his name.

He looks pleased at this reaction, smiles up at you again to ask, “Yeah?” his two fingers sliding along your lips and between them exploratively. His touch is tentative, and his fingers a little cold, and it makes you shiver.

You hum in the affirmative and reach for his hand with yours, and he lets you take his wrist with a question in his eyes that first clears up with understanding and then immediately clouds over with thick lust when you suck his fingers, wet with water and your own arousal, into your mouth, taking them as far as the second knuckle.

It’s a little besides the point, but just to be extra suggestive you cover your teeth carefully with your lips, tonguing his index and middle fingers separately and then together, leaving no question what you’re implying by the motions, letting his fingertips graze the back of your tongue and then releasing them with an exaggerated pop, only to suck his middle and ring fingers in between your lips and repeat it all over again, finishing with his thumb and lavishing it with special attention, treating it as much like you’d like to treat his cock as you possibly can.

You hear his throat click as he swallows dry at either the visual or the feeling or both, along with a whispered, “fuck,” and it gives you a distinct rush of satisfaction.

While you’re licking long stripes up each finger, as lewd as possible, you notice his breathing has gone ragged, and that’s when you deem the job done well enough and use your grip to draw his hand down, letting his spit slick fingers trail over your chin, and neck, allowing him to feel the swell of your breast under his fingertips and eventually reclaim his hand.

“Oh, wow. Jesus Christ, you really are going to kill me,” he stammers breathlessly, taking your own hand and kissing the back of it, eyes closed and breathing hard through his nose for a long spell before letting go.

It’s at this point that you offer by way of explanation, “Your hands were cold.”  

Cheeky, and you know it, but it seems to have had the intended effect.

Jungkook is nearly gasping with feverish determination, eyes heavy-lidded with the same need you can see throbs red and hard between his legs.

He moans immediately upon getting his mouth back on you again, sending low waves of vibrations coursing through your nerve endings and making you push back against him and gasp.

His tongue is so soft, alternately pointed while he draws nonsense patterns over your clit, lips spread with his thumb, and flat and broad as he licks fat stripes up and down your center.

He uses his first and middle fingers to apply tantalizing pressure to your slit just outside your entrance, teasing like he might slide inside at any time and it has you biting your lower lip on a whimper.

Then his tongue is back to flitting soft and continuous over the hood of your clit, and his left hand relinquishes its hold on the swell of your ass to splay his fingers over your abdomen, and lend his thumb to gently expose it to his licks directly.

The shock of the sensation is so powerful your hips jerk, unsure if they want to buck into the stimulation or away, but Jungkook winds his right arm tight around you, effectively stopping you from escaping his mouth and the onslaught of fervent licks and kisses. Pleasure surges through your body in acute waves.

“Oh, god,” you gasp, desperate. “Oh, fuck, Jungkook, oh my fucking god.”

Jungkook just looks up at you through his eyelashes, wraps his lips around your clit, and sucks hard enough that his cheeks hollow briefly.

“Fffffffuck!” you cry out, teeth buried hard in your lip to try to minimize the volume. Attempt failed. If Taehyung hasn’t heard you already, he definitely did just now.

Fumbling, you reach behind you to turn off the water. It’s begun to run lukewarm, and if earlier you left it on in the hope that it might cover some of the noise, well, it’s too late now.

You succeed after some scrabbling to stem the flow of the tap and then bury your hand back in Jungkook’s hair, doing your best with your tenuous grip and the leg wrapped around his shoulders to direct him where you need him most, and keep him there.

Jungkook doesn’t protest in the slightest, just moans in approval and redoubles his efforts.

You find yourself moaning with abandon, head thrown back toward the ceiling when Jungkook pulls back a bit, breathing hard. He draws his right hand back around to tease you with his fingers again, slicking one finger at a time in your dripping arousal until all his fingers are coated in it, slippery and clear.

“... Look how wet you are for me,” he says then, voice thick. You let your head fall forward again, hair falling around your face as you train your eyes on him. You can feel it, you definitely are astonishingly wet. You aren’t sure you’ve ever been so wet, with the possible exception of yesterday when Jungkook came in your lap. You had ended up having to change not only your panties, but your jeans as well, having soaked clear through the layer of denim, after all.

The image of him with his face between your thighs and fresh bruises starting to bloom on your skin, mouth red and abused, does nothing to staunch the flow.

“Only you do this to me, baby,” you tell him, feeling more than hearing his sharp intake of breath in the sudden coolness in its wake. The breath he releases then comes out in a shudder, ghosting warm over your core.

Then, “Don’t tell me that if it isn’t true.”

You blink, because of course it is, and then you’re falling all over yourself trying to find the words to convince him.

“It’s true, oh my god, it is true. Nobody has- has ever- oh--”

Jungkook chooses that exact moment to slide one finger home, burying it all the way to the last knuckle inside you without preamble. “Fucking hell, Jungkook. Nobody but you has ever made me so... You don’t know what you- what you, oh god. What you do t- to me,” you stutter with effort as he begins to pump that finger steadily in and out.

“What do I do to you?” he asks, voice much too steady for your liking.

Jesus Christ. All right, if this is the game he wants to play, you’ll play.

You tighten your grip on his hair, wrenching his head back, and take a deep breath.

“The last time I came it was bouncing on a toy, alone, in the dark, in my room moaning your name, Jungkook.”

You watch his lips fall into a pretty, pretty O shape on a moan, blinking hard at the sharp clarity of pain in his scalp and starting to form a mental image.

“Oh,” is all he says, but then he takes that opportunity to slide a second finger in alongside the first, the stretch easy with how turned on you are already.

You’re more prepared this time, though, and you push your hips down on the intrusion, squeezing around his fingers and groaning at how good it feels to be filled.

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ Do you know what, though?” You have to pause and let out a breathy moan through Jungkook beginning to curl his fingers, aiming directly for your g spot and finding it much more easily than he should have been able to, but you power on. “Now that I have a better idea what I’m dealing with, I think I bought a toy too --ah, fuck --too small. Because your cock is b-bigger.” You let your gaze fall to his straining erection, deliberately, making sure he can see you do it.

You kind of can’t believe he hasn’t touched himself at all.

Dimly, you remember an echo of words he spoke yesterday. “I want to make it about you.”

Maybe it’s mean of you to get him so worked up.

A vivid memory presents itself abruptly, Jungkook moaning, asking to touch himself, asking to touch you, asking to come, eventually begging, seeking permission every step of the way. A shudder of arousal ripples through you.

Mean? Maybe. But god, it is fun to rile him up.

Jungkook’s eyes threaten to glaze over, half lidded and dark, dark. Still being so good, still denying himself the relief of any kind of friction. You continue, “It’s thicker, and I bet it would fill me up so-” You’re interrupted by your own moan on a particularly hard thrust, “-Fill me up so good. You make me come so, oh, god, so fucking hard when you’re not even there, baby. I only ever think about you. Can’t... can’t get off unless it’s you. Wanna feel you for real.” By the end of this confession you’re properly gasping, and Jungkook looks painfully hard, dick angry red and curved up against his ridiculously toned abdomen.

“Yeah. Yeah, want that.” Jungkook’s eyes are glinting with steel, eyelashes clumped together with water, gazing up at your face. “I want it. Wanna make you come.”

“You’re gonna, Jungkook, baby, fuck, I- oh, god. I’m close. You’re gonna make me come. Just don’t, oh fucking shit don’t stop!”

Jungkook broaches your entrance with a third finger, burying his face in your mound at the same time and lapping at your clit with devastating pressure. He plunges his fingers in and out at tempo with the motions of his tongue at first, making you choke on a cry.

He pulls back again after a minute, directly contradicting you begging him not to stop, but it’s in order to switch to curving all three fingers mercilessly against your g spot and tell you, “Want you to say my name,” in the darkest tone of voice you’ve ever heard out of him.

“Jungkook,” you whimper immediately, almost more out of reaction to the buildup of pressure in your core, threatening to peak at any moment, than out of obedience, but maybe it’s a little of both.

“Mhmm,” he says, kissing your clit and making you jolt on his arms and gasp. “I think you can be louder, though.”

“Jungkook, Jungkook wait-” you start, only to cut yourself off with an honest-to-god wail, as he starts to jackhammer his wrist, pounding your most sensitive spot until you fall forward, leg nearly giving out and leaning all your weight on his shoulders. The sound of it is obscene, squelching noise mortifyingly loud in the small, echoing space, and it feels so fucking good you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed, the filthiness of it just turns you on more.

You feel yourself about to lurch headfirst into your orgasm when Jungkook says, eyes glued to your face, “Look at me. Go ahead and let Taehyung hear you. The neighbors too. Let them know how fucking good I make you feel and exactly who’s doing it to you.” And then he bends forward and sucks your clit into his soft mouth and hollows out his cheeks, and you can’t help but give him exactly what he asks for, just like always.

“Jungkook! Jungkook, that’s so good, oh, fuck, fuck fuck fuck Jungkook, Jungkook!”

You come with what feels like all the force of a particle collision at CERN, the kind that propels protons at each other to create controlled replications of the big bang. Is that too much of an exaggeration? It doesn’t feel like one to you. You’ve never come that hard in your fucking life. It hits you like a fucking truck.

It leaves you shaking with aftershocks, gasping, and sliding down the side of the bathtub to the floor with Jungkook, and he eventually withdraws his fingers but won’t take his mouth off you, following you all the way down, easing your way by supporting your weight and going straight back to suckling mercilessly at your oversensitive cunt and laving it with broad licks once you’re flat on your back, as your hips jerk involuntarily and you babble at him to stop while he chuckles, self satisfied.

You drag him up your body to kiss you on the mouth, chest heaving and slowly regaining the ability to see with, like, colors.

Gradually it comes to you that you’re murmuring out loud in between kisses, making Jungkook blush and tuck his chin, saying things like, “Baby, you’re so good for me, so incredible, I’m so lucky. My good boy. My knees feel like they’ve been replaced with jello. You’re beautiful.”  

And Jungkook is saying, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Jesus christ, you’re unbelievable. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“I am, I’m yours,” you reply immediately. “Are you kidding? That was amazing. You’re never going to be able to get rid of me after this.”

“Mm. Good,” he says, kissing down your neck. “Because I’m not finished with you yet.”

“Oh, god, that was greasy.” You groan, but it comes out in a laugh.

He presses one last kiss on the slope of one of your breasts, holding up his right hand, covered in creamy slick from your release.

“You put on quite a show.”

You think you know what’s coming, and you’re still aroused enough to moan and flatten out your tongue for him when he brings his fingers up to your mouth and proves you right. It’s absolutely filthy, and you’ve leaked so much it drips down Jungkook’s palm all the way to his wrist.

You make sure you don’t break eye contact, lapping all the way from his wrist to the tip of his middle finger, and when he growls and grips your chin with the same hand, kissing you hungrily, you let him, helplessly turned on. It leaves sticky streaks where his fingers gripped you when he lets go. When he breaks the kiss again you suck his fingers back into your mouth, letting him fuck them down your throat until you almost gag, and your eyes water.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, and in the afterglow of your orgasm, you’re happy to let the praise wash over you. He kisses you soundly, and even though you imagine his tongue must be tired, it brushes against yours, indulgent.

“I can’t believe you didn’t touch yourself that whole time,” you mutter against his lips.

Jungkook smiles, looking quietly proud of his self restraint but he plays it down when he simply says, “Told you. Not about me.”

“Mmm. You’re going to ruin me for anyone else, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me,” he replies, and that... that sounds pretty good to you.

“Will you let me suck you off?” You ask, looking up at him, hovering just over you.

Jungkook’s head falls back, wet hair brushing his shoulder blades, before shaking his head firmly, as if it pains him to do it.

“Nope. We’ve been in here long enough as it is. I might as well have let you shave by yourself because this hasn’t saved us any time at all.”

“... All right, first of all, all of this was your idea. The shaving, and the... everything else,” you trip over your sentence, back to blushing.

“Oh god, this again? You’re shy on me again?” Jungkook teases, sitting up and reaching out a hand to help you to your feet. You’re still a little wobbly, but you find your balance with your hands on his forearms.

He saves you from needing to reply, also conveniently redirecting the conversation away from how any time-wasting activities, or actions that led to them, were, in fact, his fault entirely, by turning on the shower again with no warning whatsoever, dousing you both unexpectedly in cold water, which makes you yelp and Jungkook tense up reflexively.

His grip on you turns iron and a shit eating grin crosses his face. He refuses to let you squirm out of his arms and escape the icy first few minutes of the water heating back up. He at least seems to be taking the brunt of the onslaught, but you’re still subjected to the cold. You’re struggling with all your power, but you might as well be trapped in a vise.

“Jungkook!! Jeon Jungkook I am going to kill you. I am going to take this bath towel and I am going to strangle you with it. I will leave your body where they will never find it and I will cut off your testicles and mail them to your mother. Don’t make me do that, I actually love your mother. She’s a godsend. Don’t make me, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook!”

And Jungkook just... laughs, his whole body shaking with it, and adjusts his grip so that your arms are trapped against your sides, hugging you to himself and in the process dragging you further into the spray.

Unfortunately, you probably wouldn’t take your threats seriously if you were Jungkook, either, considering you were giggling and gasping through your entire delivery.

“I swear to god, if you think you’re still getting your dick sucked now you have got another thing coming,” you warn with as much gravity as you can summon up while your teeth are chattering.

“No, no, I told you. I don’t need that. I don’t have to get off every time I get hard. Do you know how many times I would have had to get up and leave when I’m spending time with you if I felt like I needed to follow through with it every time I popped a boner?” (... And, like, is ‘awww’ the right way to react to that, or?) “That was like, lowkey the point of this.” He gestures with his head toward the shower head. “Haven’t you ever heard of a cold shower?”

Slowly, you ease up on squirming. The water is approaching a reasonable temperature now. You slump against him, energy depleted entirely.

“... Still gonna kill you.”

Jungkook kisses your forehead.

“Okay. Can you do it after you help me rinse this conditioner out of my hair?”

You push out your lower lip, lifting your head to look up at him petulantly with your eyebrows drawn, pouting as hard as you can to communicate your displeasure, but nod.

True to Jungkook’s reasoning behind standing under the freezing water, his erection has flagged considerably, although maybe it would have been more effective for him if you had wiggled a little less the whole time. He’s gone from angry, almost purple-red, and rock hard with the veins popping desperately, to something closer to half hard, a slightly less aggressive shade of red.

Still mouthwatering. Despite what you said, you’d still love to get your mouth on him.

Jungkook clears his throat, “Do you think you could not, like, look at it like that. You’re making it hard to... hard. You’re making me hard again.”

You snap your eyes back up to his face, feeling your whole face heat up.

“Sorry! Sorry. Um. Conditioner. Out. Right.”

You take his face in both hands and guide him to tipping his head back, letting the warming water cascade over his hair and angling it to avoid getting any in his eyes, which slide closed while you work.

When your fingers first find his face, both your hands and his skin are cold, but they warm gradually.

Your fingers slide easy and soft through his hair, utterly silky after having left the product in for so long.

Jungkook hums, happy, when you scritch your fingernails gently over his scalp.

You’re beginning to notice a trend, here.

“You’ve got a little bit of a thing for having your hair played with, don’t you, baby?” you jibe lightly.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat in retorting without bothering to open his eyes, “Yeah, well, you seem to have a bit more than just a little thing for playing with my hair. What a coincidence.”

“How serendipitous,” you concede, smiling and giving in to the magnetic pull that drags you to his lips for a brief kiss.

You’re feeling a little floaty, a little high, a lot lucky. A lot blessed.

Together you rinse off thoroughly, taking turns, before shutting off the water for good.

You take a moment to send up a silent apology to mother earth for the water that was definitely wasted during the time you and your boyfriend spent canoodling in the shower.

In your defense, the amount of water wasted in one shower for two people is outrageously outweighed by the volume of waste produced by the corporations responsible for fast-tracking global warming, but that thought doesn’t really serve to ease your guilt by much.

Jungkook jumped into your shower without remembering to bring his own towel, so you share the one you keep on the rack. Jungkook unceremoniously flings it over your head, blocking out the light and completely obscuring your vision, and then with his fingers scrunches the towel on either side of your head to gently wring out your hair, gradually bunching the fabric in his hands until your face is back in view, making a hood out of it and squishing your cheeks together when you try to glare at him.

“Cute,” he coos, making a goofy face to mimic your smooshed one, dripping water onto the floor all the while.

“Death wish,” you mutter, otherwise resigning yourself to being squished with only a deep sigh in protest. When he’s satisfied with mushing your cheeks and finally lets go, you ask, “Hey, do you think we can pick up some butter while we’re at the store? I know we aren’t out yet and it’s not on the list, but there’s a cake recipe I want to try out, and once I use the butter we’ve got for frosting, there won’t be any left.”

“What? Nooo, the grocery run can wait.” Jungkook protests.

“But why?”

“It’s not part of the date! Errands are not romantic.”

“Why can’t it be? Grocery shopping can be romantic.”

Jungkook snorts.

“Can not.”

“Sure it can! We’ll go together, you can hold my hand the whole time.” You wiggle your eyebrows, voice lilting, doing your best to paint a picture for him, “It’ll be domestic and adorable. We can get a cart and I’ll sit in the basket with my arms out like this and you can push me around and I’ll pretend like I’m flying. Romantic! Now that,” You punctuate the word with a forefinger to his sternum, “-Is a scene that could be in a Ryan Gosling movie.”

Jungkook considers this proposal with his eyes narrowed. He has been known to enjoy a Ryan Gosling movie.

“Why can’t I be the one who flies?”

“You?”

“Yeah, me.”

“But you’re heavy. And you’re the one with the big muscles. Perfect for pushing.”

“I wanna fly,” he insists.

You give in, all too easy, as soon as he levels his big, sad eyes at you, which he may or may not even mean to do.

“... Okay, okay, fine. You can sit in the shopping cart and I will push your beefy ass around. So we can do the grocery trip? Maybe on the way home? They’re open late.”

“Well... I guess we do owe Tae some yogurts. Especially after what he just heard,” Jungkook smirks.

You shove the towel in his face.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim, indignant, “That was all your fault!”

Jungkook just laughs, catching the towel before it drops to the floor and beginning to dry his own hair without an iota of shame.

“Hell yeah, it was.”

“Oh my god, don’t,” You reach out in retaliation, trying to land a thwack in the general area of his pecs somewhere and he dodges you with infuriatingly little effort.

Then, “All ignoble, all the time.” He’s laying the dialect on thick and quirking his eyebrows, and you can’t help but snort, against your will because you’re trying to stay stony faced.

That’s it, and then you’re both off, laughing uncontrollably and struggling to breathe between bouts of giggles.

Finally, when you’re both dry, the problem arises of how to make it back out into your respective rooms to get dressed without putting dirty clothes back on and with only one towel between you.

Jungkook solves the issue by wrapping the towel under his arms and then wrapping himself snug around you behind your back, warm as a space heater. He arranges the towel carefully to obscure you from above your breasts to just above mid-thigh, and waddles you both through the bathroom door, back to front, out in a cloud of steam through the living room, past Taehyung’s emphatic middle finger, and into Jungkook’s room, where you let Jungkook disentangle his arms and drop him off with a quick kiss.

He smells intoxicating.

He smells clean.

He smells like you. You shiver.

You reclaim the towel, slip back into your own room, and begin to prepare for the night ahead.

Something tells you there’s a chance you might not have to sleep alone tonight.

You bite your lip, alone in your room, and smile.

[daffodilon]

Hi hello! I hope you're having a great day? Night? I just discovered your blog and I would like to read more of your work, please?but I can't seem to be able to find anymore in the links or the search bar.. or maybe I'm dumb. Could you please help me? Thank you 😌

Hi hi hi hi! Welcome! I am having a really great night, thank you! I’ve been getting emails all day about a sudden influx of traffic to this blog even though I’ve been semi-absent because of life stuff lately, which means I think btssmutclub must have spat one of my fics out of their queue already and sent a bunch of new readers my way!! Which is so fucking exciting!!

So I’ve had a really good day 🥰🥰🥰 I hope you are having a great day too!

And please please don’t worry! I can think of several reasons people might have trouble navigating this blog, none of them your fault in any way!

First of all there’s the fact that I’m a shallow bitch who cares too much about ~the aesthetique~ so my mobile links are these symbols in my description: ♠️ ♣️ ♥️ ♦️ and therefore it’s impossible to know which link leads to what on mobile. I intend to change it to something easier to use soon but haven’t quite found the time yet. For now, just for reference, they’re 

♠️ -> about

♣️ -> mlist

♥️ -> ask

♦️ -> other nav ** 

The second reason might just be the fact that this is a pretty new blog, and there isn’t much here yet! I’m assuming if you’re here, you probably found cafune first, and if you liked cafune part one, but haven’t read the continuation, here’s a link to part two!

Otherwise, unfortunately, those two installments are the only works I currently have up! Sorry, but I do hope to bring y’all somethin new and juicy real soon

As I post new things I will immediately add them to my masterlist, if you’re inclined to bookmark it or something along those lines! (I don’t currently have a rebloggable mlist, mostly because I worry about old versions circulating every time I update the original, sorry!) 

and as for the search bar, if you’re ever trying to find something on this blog, tumblr’s search is pretty broken so i can’t promise it will work on their end, but on MY end: 

talk-y text posts from me will always be tagged “dilon.txt”. 

my fic will always be tagged “dilon.fic” and also “daffodilon”. 

pieces that are part of a series will be tagged with the title of that series, so all the parts of cafune should be searchable by entering the keyword “cafune” in the search bar, for example. 

replies to asks with all of you guys’ kind words will typically be tagged “testimonials”, 

and i also have a “speculation tag” for asks that are, like, thirst messages

i’m sure that list will expand, but those are the most useful ones for now

I hope that answers as much as possible!

**that last link, the diamond in my description, is temporarily a placeholder, but will eventually be a link to a functional navigation page with a formal index of my tagging system, including all the tags I mentioned up there plus extra organizational buttons. i’ll make an update once i get around to setting that up! 

thanks for being so patient with me, and thank you so much for liking my work enough to want to read more!