#i need to finish writing about Jungkook and masculinity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taeescript · 4 years ago

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IV. Script of the Angel (m)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!reader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 9.1k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned. sexual content present.

𝔞/𝔫 >> another long chapter. sorry! the oc is as opposite to me as day is to night, but i have always enjoyed writing characters who are different. i feel like i’m being challenged to expand my own writing skills. as always, enjoy (: feedback and comments always appreciated. (i am curious: do you prefer long or short chapters?)

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The taxi arrives much earlier than any of you anticipate. Jungkook is halfway through telling you about the unfortunate event of being kicked out of his rented room when the annoyed-looking driver quickly shoves you both inside. He asks you where you are headed. You lean forward and give him the address of your house. The driver mutters how the drive is less than five minutes away, but he accepts the job nevertheless. “How about you, Sir?” the driver asks Jungkook. Jungkook is at a loss of words until you intercede. “Same place,” you say. Jungkook gives you a confused look. “You said you don’t have any place to stay tonight so I’m extending an offer. Also, sort of like a thank you for finding and staying with me through this storm.” Your words come out much shyer than you had anticipated. He gives you a slight smile. “Are you sure it’s wise for you to invite a stranger to your house?” You blush. “You’re not really a stranger.” “Ah, I’m not? Well I’m a suspect to a murder case.” “No, you’re not! Jimin was only talking to you as a witness.” “A witness? He seemed a little too hostile for that.” As the conversation had carried on, you didn’t notice how close he became until you turned to come face to face with him. The small smile he always has continues to linger on his lips. You pull back and turn to hide the flush on your face that you know for sure is present. Once the heat seems to have left, you glance at him again. He is still regarding you with curiosity. Extending a hand towards him you say, “$10 per night. I’ll be your landlady and you’re renting a room from me.” He laughs and you can’t help but stare with wonder at how white and straight his teeth are.

...

The Body is a miraculous item of study. Inside, we have these little chemical messengers that act on receptors to tell us: wake! At the same time, they tell us: sleep! Just what are these chemical messengers that run around us like tiny men in a sleep-wake factory? First, when we are getting ready to sleep, Melatonin is produced in the pineal gland to send us a message telling us that it is time to enter slumber. Their levels increase as the level of darkness increases. Once our body is asleep, a surge of multiple hormones play a role. You have growth hormone from the pituitary gland telling (a child in particular) to grow and repair tissue; you have antidiuretic hormone (ADH) increasing so we don’t have to get up and pee in the middle of the night; you have oxytocin that may peak at about five hours of sleep influencing the content of our dreams. You wait nervously outside the bathroom door. You had both returned to your house and you had changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and a sleeveless top. Your hair was tied in a bun on your head; your scalp itching to remind you that it had been a while since you washed your hair. However, you had more pressing matters at hand. You had told Jungkook that he was allowed to use the shower first but after drinking one too many cups of water – your throat was so dry – you now desperately needed to use the washroom. The water is still running and you can slightly feel the heat escaping the warm room through the small crack of the door. It was ajar and the smell of your shampoo wafted out to meet your nose. It made you wonder if your shampoo had always been so sweet and inviting. As you are the only resident of the house, there had never been a need for multiple bathrooms and thus your only solution is to patiently wait outside until your guest is finished. After what felt like five minutes but in actuality five seconds, you take a small peek into the bathroom. The glass shower door has been fogged up and you can only see a very hazy silhouette of its current occupant. If you were to dash in and release everything in your bladder at a fast enough speed, perhaps Jungkook would never notice that you would be in there. Just as long as you moved fast enough. You wanted to weigh the pros and cons of this decision but your bladder would not let your mind concentrate. Before you could control your body, you rush into the bathroom. Everything but the feeling of pleasure from the release of the buildup of pressure in your pelvis is forgotten. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied sigh. When you are finished, you deftly stand and flush the toilet. You momentarily lean over the toilet, reveling in the new weightlessness of your body, when the realization of the scenario you are in hits you. You had just walked into a man showering in your house. Not only that, you had used the toilet while he was washing up (naked) less than a feet away. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now, Jungkook would definitely see you in here. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now, Jungkook would think you are a peeping tom. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now – It is too late, however. You hear his voice from behind you, “Well, this is a surprise.” You turn as slowly as you can. Jungkook stands with the white towel around his waist. He does not look much different than when you had seen him drenched by the rain, but this time you are able to smell the masculine scent of body wash off of him. The first time in the rain, you had been unable to help yourself and glance at his defined abdominal muscles through his soaked shirt, but this time you choose not to peel your eyes away from the sight. The gulp you takes makes its way slowly down your throat. “I needed to use the toilet really badly,” you somehow managed to squeak. He tucks the end of the towel into the side all the while looking at you with a teasing smirk. You do not need to look in the mirror behind you to know the shade your face has turned. “I’ll be going now,” you murmur and turn to leave the room. “Without washing your hands?” he teases you. As if he now is not regarding you as a full out pervert, he probably thought you as unclean as well. You can’t remember what you say in response to that as you shuffle to the sink. The water is warm when it runs out of the faucet. Your mind is unfocused on the task in front of you as you can only think of ways to escape or talk your way out of this situation. “How are you supposed to wash any the germs away if you scrub like that?” You feel his voice vibrate along your back. You immediately tense up when his arms wrap from behind around you. His hands gently take your slimmer hands into his own and together they move through the lathering actions. He pumps the hand soap and his lips become dangerously close to your cheek when he reaches in front. “Clean between each finger and the side of your palm. People often forget to wash the area around the thumb and most of their less dominant hand,” he continues to lecture you. “Just be still,” the plea to your body and mind only being silently voiced out in desperation. There is no extra cloth to wipe your hands dry and so he uses the towel around his waist instead. Each action he does only made you become ever more anxious and self-conscious. When he seemed satisfied with you, he lets you walk away. You will your legs to maintain its strength as you take the steps needed to exit the small steamy room. You are stopped again when he says, “Are you always so innocent?” There is a part of you that wants to turn to look at him, but another part warns you that if you do, a larger temptation will face you. He strolls to stand before you. His eyes slowly make their way from your toes to the top of your forehead; then his gaze holds you steadily in place. You swallow again under his scrutiny. Taking a step towards you, he slides a finger under the strap of you tank top. The simple action makes you shiver. “Tell me, how long have you been living alone?” Your mind tells you not to answer him. What are you doing anyways? Just an hour ago you were thinking about Baekhyun and now you are being consumed by Jungkook. “How long has it been since you’ve been… touched?” his question comes out barely above a whisper – that is how close he is to you now. “I shouldn’t – ” you words are suffocated by his kiss. His lips mold until they wrap around yours. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you fall into him with such speed that it scares you. You feel both dread and thrill in your stomach. He tastes warm, that is the only thing your mind is capable of detecting. Other than that, your brain can not function and you feel yourself shiver in his embrace. You wonder if he has his eyes closed as well or if he was looking at you. Perhaps if you opened your eyes you would have an answer to your question yet you felt afraid of doing so. He pulls you waist closer to him and the dew on his chest seeps through your thin top. His skin is warm, but the now-cold water causes your nipples to become erect. He can feel them straining through the top, but rather than having his hand rise up to meet it, he slides his hand deeper into your pants. Your body tenses up at the invasion. “Relax,” the single word slurs as they are passed between your lips. The suggestion comes in the form of a command and your body strangely listens. With his hand, he forcefully grips the left cheek of your behind and roughly presses you lower body into his. The simultaneous sensation of pleasure and pain runs through your body. His other free hand brushes the nape of you neck. Your hands act of their own accord, and you find them running through his hair, all the while as he tugs on your lips; all the while that you become wrapped in his embrace. Your fingers become brushed with water, and you draw a wet finger down the middle of his back. It is his moan you hear this time, and the thrill rushes through your body again. For the next few moments, the two of you are captivated with exploring each other’s body. You think that he is about to lift your shirt off when instead his hand slips through the barrier created by your underwear. You freeze again. His lips leave yours and trace a pathway until he stands behind you, and your back is pressed tightly against his torso. All the while, his hand makes a crawling rotation until they rest on you lower abdominal. You place a shaking hand on top of this. You don’t even notice that your fingers have become icy cold. “Trust me,” he whispers into your ear. His voice is so low that you mind barely registers what he has said. You heart rises in speed in proportion to his hand that moves out from beneath yours and continually slides downward.

...

You wake with a beating heart. Your eyes fly open, and they are greeted with the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars you had placed on your ceiling. It had been a dream. Your breathing fights to become regular again, but the more you think about what you had awoken from, the more it loses in its battle. You know it is all a dream, but why was it then that you still feel the pressure on you lower abdominal? With a crack, your mind finally reels out of its stupor and a new burn in your stomach causes you to flush again. The act of sex is not foreign to you. You had given that away to Baekhyun the night you realized you were truly in love with him – the night he had proposed to you. But that had happened a long time ago and since his disappearance, you had never given yourself to another man. The thought had never even passed through you. So why was it that you had these thoughts now? Towards a man that you had only just met? Also, how was it that he could make you do something like this? Your hand slides out from your underwear and the band’s near soundless snap practically hands you its embarrassing reality on a gold platter. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had touched yourself. The concept was always too taboo and awkward for you to embrace. You were also not a person that became aroused by sexual thoughts, yet a simple dream had made you lose control of your body. You wiped your hands on the bedsheets, and turn onto your side in bed so you would no longer feel the pressure of gravity on your already tense body. Jeon Jungkook. You only invited him at the spur of the moment. You had both returned home and wordlessly showered and got into bed. You had offered to make a simple meal but he had kindly rejected telling you that he was too tired. He had also jokingly told you not to worry about breakfast tomorrow as it was the least he could do in return for letting him sleep at your place. Continuing on, you told him that he was allowed to use your bedroom so he would be more comfortable but he had patted your small sofa instead. He always carried a pillow with him and told you he could fall asleep anywhere as long as he had it with him. You squeeze your eyes shut. Why? What was this? Who is this man that has barged into your safe house?

More importantly, what is he doing to you? You curl into a tighter ball and press your thighs closer together.

...

The scent of sweet in combination to savory fills your nose and sends a chill through your body. Your eyes remain closed, still infused with slumber but you bring the blanket closer to you. A small breeze sends another intoxicating spiral towards your nose. It smells like pancakes. Perhaps with a thick layer of maple syrup and a cube of butter. There is also something that reminds you of salt – bacon. Sizzling, warm, crunchy bacon. The distinct aroma of coffee is blended in there as well. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you open your eyes. You yelp. Jungkook nearly tips the coffee cup onto your drawer when the sound suddenly occurs. He looks down and sees your wide eyes staring up at him. He meets them but you quickly shift your pupils. You look… nervous. Seeing the unexpected visitor makes you remember the events of last night. Your palms start to sweat and you only draw the covers closer to your chest while sitting up. The corner of the sheet dips past your shoulder and he catches the flash of smooth skin. “Sorry to wake you,” he scratches his jaw embarrassedly, “I saw you were asleep and I promised breakfast. I thought I’d try to quietly slip in and leave it by your bedside.” You eye the said meal on your drawer and note that your nose had not lied to you. “It’s okay,” you try to say. However, your voice is groggy with sleep and so you clear it once. “It’s okay,” you say clearer this time, “But you really didn’t have to.” “It’s nothing. I’m an early riser anyways.” He makes a motion to leave. “Wait,” you call after him. He turns back to look at you. His gaze is piercing and the strange flush that never failed to make an appearance returns. “I’ll join you outside,” you tell him. Smiling, he nods. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

...

When you had left, Jimin had sat down at his desk feeling extremely dejected. He was supposed to protect you and make sure you never shed another tear. That was his promise to his best friend. Yet here he is, as the cause of your pain once again.

“Sir, the files you had requested.” Yoongi knocks on his door. As the youngest detective on the team, he is often coerced into doing the grunt work. But his tenacious and hard-working attitude gave him rise on Jimin’s list of people he respected. Jimin tilts his head to peer above the top of his cluttered desk. New files had been opened along with the scatter of older yellowing papers. His whiteboard is nearing a grey colour at the amount of times he has written things down and then erased them. Yoongi listens and is about to leave his senior alone but stops at the door. “Sir, if I may, will you allow me to make a comment?” the younger asks solemnly. Jimin turns to regard him. His eyesight blurs and he has to hold onto the corner of the desk to steady himself. Quickly masquerading the moment of weakness, he coughs and stands straight again. “You haven’t left the station in three days. You sleep at the desk and your back is in so much pain you shuffle to get coffee. It smells of Chinese take-out and stale pizza in here with another strange concoction of coffee and sweat.” Jimin raises an eyebrow at him. Yoongi clears his throat but does not waver in telling Jimin his mind. “Go home, Sir. You need some rest. The case will still be here when you return. It’ll also be of benefit when you return with refreshed eyes and mind.” Yoongi stands still all the while looking forward. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Jimin walking towards him. His mouth starts to become dry knowing the harsh words he will hear from the his senior for speaking out of place.

Jimin tiredly places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi rotates his head in surprise. Sighing, he says, “You’re right. My body is on the verge of breaking down.” He sniffs once. “And I do smell like shit.”

Yoongi chuckles, both out of nervousness and relief.

“I’m leaving the team in your hands then,” Jimin grabs his jacket from the coat hanger.

“Me?” Yoongi says astonished, “What about Lieutenant Namjoon?”

The laugh draws more strength from Jimin’s lungs than he anticipates. “I haven’t seen that guy for the past three days in the station, and both you and I know I’ve been living here. You’re young, but I like your attitude. The others like you too.”

Yoongi cannot help but smile at the praise. He salutes as Jimin walks out the door. “I’ll do my absolute best!”

“I expect nothing less,” Jimin calls out and waves.

...

He had fully intended to walk home, but there are so many thoughts in his head he needed fresh air to wash out the stale one in his lungs and to clear out his mind.

Sitting at the park just a block away from the station, he takes a small bite of the cookie he picked up from the station’s café. It is sickening sweet and he wonders how he had lived on these cookies when he used to pull all-nighters for previous cases.

“I knew I’d find you here,” a voice interrupts his quiet.

Jimin looks up and sees Namjoon smiling at him. Namjoon’s hair is swept back and he is sporting a white polo shirt along with khaki pants. His police jacket is slung over his arm and hides his badge within. At a quick glance, Namjoon looks like any normal civilian enjoying the autumn afternoon.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Jimin lazily greets his friend.

Namjoon takes a seat beside Jimin. In one hand, he holds a brown paper back and this is what he extends towards Jimin.

Taking a peek inside, Jimin notes a container that has some type of potato salad along with another stacked container with mixed rice.

“Youngji told me to pass this to you,” Namjoon answers his unasked question, “We thought you could do without any more of the crappy station café food – full of MSG and sugar.”

The smiling face of Namjoon’s soon-to-be wife enters Jimin’s vision at the mention of her name. The two had recently moved in together and there were days when Jimin felt envious when hearing about Namjoon brag about his fiancée’s skills in the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Jimin says.

“I’m not slacking on the job by the way,” Namjoon says.

“You’re not? I don’t recall seeing you in the office for the past couple of days.”

“I got called into a meeting with the board of directors. They wanted an update on this Angel Killer.”

“Angel Killer, huh? Quite original.”

“Not my call on what we name the perps.”

A lull in the conversation comes to as Jimin caves into the meal set before him.

“Not a spinach and green bean casserole, I see,” Jimin jokes.

Namjoon laughs. Starting from a few weeks before, Youngji had gone into a fascination in preparing green foods. The entire floor soon came to understand that Namjoon would be eating the same casserole for his next few meals.

“I convinced her out of it,” Namjoon says with a grin, “Told her that she already spoils me with all her other cooking.”

Jimin chuckles along with Namjoon. He digs his fork into the meal before him. The taste of food that did not come from a can is such a welcome sensation to his body he can’t help but sigh.

“Youngji’s a fantastic cook.”

“One of the best.”

“Well, here’s to you forever gaining weight.”

Namjoon comically nods and rubs his belly.

“Well, Y/N’s a pretty good cook too. The pasta looked delicious the other day.”

At the mention of your name, Jimin falls quiet.

“You know, I understand you better than you think. That look you have, Jimin. I can see that the case isn’t the only reason you’ve been trying to keep yourself busy and inside the station. We all saw Y/N leaving the station the other day.”

“I guess that also means you all saw how upset I made her.”

Namjoon takes an inhale followed by a slow exhale. “Stop me if I’m prying too much, but what happened?”

Jimin takes an even deeper sigh. “She found out that I’m still looking into Baekhyun’s cases after all these years.”

“Ah,” was Namjoon’s simple response.

“I mean, I’m not doing anything wrong, am I? The reason I’ve never given up on finding the truth is to find some closure for myself. For her… For the both of us.”

Jimin means the words he says, but when he hears them from his own mouth, it feels strange.

“Well… what if closure for you doesn’t have the same definition for her?”

Namjoon’s comment make Jimin tilt his head in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Namjoon stretches out his legs in front of him. The park has quieted down as most of its visitors have returned to work after their lunch break. Only a couple of people still remain, but they are scattered so far around the park that none of their faces could be made out.

“Closure for Park Jimin means to discover the truth. Closure for Y/N might be simply to accept that her fiancé’s gone. She was in so much pain when he disappeared and it took her forever to even leave the house. Her first steps out were because of you. The reason she has the strength to move on today is because you’ve constantly been by her side. Maybe the reason she’s been able to accept that Baekhyun’s no longer with her is because she sees that you’ve accepted it as well.”

“She saw the files that indicate that perhaps Baekhyun was murdered.”

Namjoon’s next sentence becomes lodged in his throat. He closes his mouth then opens it again but only to have it return to its previous state. At last when he finally finds what he wants, he says, “That complicates things, doesn’t it?”

Jimin closes the food container and returns it back into the bag. In the time they had been talking, he found that he had lost his appetite. His two thumbs press against the sides of his temple and gently massage it in circles.

Everybody knows how much Jimin cares for you; some even think that the extent of it is due to Jimin’s secret crush on you. But Namjoon knows the reason why. He can’t help but look at his colleague and friend with sadness. An ancient promise that causes anguish to those in its pact.

Placing a warm hand on Jimin’s back, Namjoon leaves it there for comfort. “Is that what you believe? That Baekhyun is gone because he was murdered?”

Jimin shakes his head. As if the thoughts in his brain could not get any more complicated, the simple question makes things worse. “I don’t know, Namjoon. I have absolutely no idea. I’ve been working this case for years now, but everything always comes up to a dead end. A part of me wants to believe that Baekhyun simply decided to walk out of his old life to start a new one and he’s alive somewhere out there. Yet another part, the detective part, can’t ignore the knowledge that maybe something bad did happen to him that night. That’s why he never returned.”

“Did you uncover anything new?”

“No. Not for that case.”

Namjoon doesn’t say a word. He can sense something else in Jimin’s tone. He is unable to tell if Jimin says what is on his mind as the conversation is redirected.

“What did the directors say about Sara Michel’s case? I’m assuming that’s why you went to meet with them.”

This time it is Namjoon’s turn to furrow his brows. Namjoon had never truly wanted to become Lieutenant. Jimin knew that Namjoon had been offered the position because he first had turned down the offer. Namjoon never expressed any bitterness about it; no, instead he had said he had been thankful. Namjoon had always said how he wanted to become Lieutenant before asking Youngji’s hand in marriage. When they spoke, the only frustration Namjoon ever expressed was the unexpected amount of responsibilities that came with this new position.

“They want to know if we have any new leads. As they say, if we don’t have anything by 24 hours, the case is as good as gone. If there really isn’t anything then they want us to wrap it up. File it as another unsolved case and focus on the new big project: the whole deal we’ve been working over at with the Narcotics Team.”

“The drug related gang suicides, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We can send a couple of guys over.”

“That’s the thing though. The Board doesn’t want a few guys. They want the entire team on board. Agent Hoseok’s barely keeping above the waves with this one. HR is breathing down his neck as apparently, some well-known powerful figure’s gone missing because of this.”

“Guilty?”

“Likely, but since he’s clearly an influential guy, the Missing Person’s unit might be dragged into it as well. His lawyers have also been stalking out at the station in case anything does come up. It’s going to set the whole station into turmoil.”

Politics. Jimin hated it all. If someone was guilty, he believed that they should see the justice they deserved.

“So what should I say to them?”

“Huh?”

“The Board. You’re the one who’s worked the Sara Michel case the most. What should I tell them about our progress so far?”

Jimin bit the inside of his cheek. Progress… Did he have that? Perhaps, but at the end: speculations. That is what they are. He couldn’t take the chance. “Tell them we may have something. Try and deter them from trashing this case. Be ambiguous.”

Namjoon waits to see if Jimin would further elaborate but the other doesn’t speak again.

“Alright,” Namjoon says, “But you will keep me updated on whatever you find, right?”

Jimin nods.

Namjoon knows that the conversation is over so he stands. Stretching, he rolls his neck once and then follows it similarly with his shoulders. “I’m going to head back to the station. Go home. Get some rest.”

“None of you want me at the station, huh? I stink it up too much?”

This earns him a grin from Namjoon. “You’re the brightest mind we have on the team, Jimin. But right now it’s shutting down right in front of my eyes. Recharge it and return when you’re ready.”

Jimin nods again and lifts a head to say goodbye. Then, he is left to his own thoughts once again.

...

She runs. Fast.

He looks down at the three words. They are the only things that fill his laptop screen after he hits enter. Writer’s block: something he didn’t quite enjoy. That was why he liked to move around so much when he writes. That, plus the fact that he can see his subject clearly.

The girl is thin and wiry but the definition of hard deltoid muscles are outlined by the afternoon sun. He enjoys a challenge and she might be one.

Dane observes her like the hunter might to his prey. He notes down everything - from the pathway she takes to the speed of her jogging. Everything is important.

What a contrast she would serve compared to pretty Ms. Michel. Now, where should he display her this time?

Everything must be chosen so that it meets perfection. She is a prancing antelope that dances unknowingly for the lion. Man is an animal after all. We all belong in the Wilderness.

His eyes look up from his script and watches as the girl stretches once she reaches the bench. She is bent over to catch her breath and she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. A small device is wrapped around her arm and she touches it to presumably change the song. Her black and blue leggings contrast with her lighter skin. Once she has rested enough, she jogs a couple of times in place before going forward and then turning the corner out of his sight.

So pretty and elegant. He wants to wrap his arms around her, and feel her pulse between his fingers. He wants to make her into his next angel.

Dane is patient. He is willing to wait until the right opportunity. He will see to it. Unwritten.

This is the third time at the park, but each day that he has arrived, she is also there. He did not need to be a rocket scientist to know that this must be her daily route. Soon, he will be able to continue on his story.

...

Jimin could not understand why, but after that day with Namjoon at the park, he found himself returning to it quite often. He would make excuses to grab a coffee, but would then find himself wandering back to the bench. He enjoyed the quietness the small area offered. It allowed him to gather his thoughts in peace before returning to the hectic environment of the station.

After allocating time spent of sitting silently under the warmth of the sun, Jimin finally stands. The park is much quieter now as the remaining people have also left. He gathers the brown bag with leftovers from the local bistro and starts stretching his legs. From the corner of his eye, he notices that somebody is running.

There is not enough time for him to get out of her way and she crashes into him the moment she turns the corner. The impact is not great and she merely stumbles back in shock.

“I’m so sorry,” he bows in apology.

She is out of breath but she shakes her head and bows as well. “No, it’s my fault! I’m sorry I didn’t see you!”

He waves it away and they share another awkward laugh before the girl in the black and blue leggings smiles and continues on her route.

Bending to pick up the brown bag he has dropped on impact, somebody else captures his attention. That person is someone he cannot seem to forget and even this slightest sight of him causes Jimin to scowl.

He is able to recognize that jacket from anywhere – that grey jacket this man wore the day he walked into the police station. He is currently sitting on a bench nearly halfway across the park. Jimin shouldn’t have been able make out any facial features at his distance, but he swears that the man’s eye follow a runner down the path.

The other man seems engrossed with something on his laptop. His eyes never seem to leave the screen and Jimin is unable to tell whether Jungkook is typing or whether he is watching some type of video. Regardless of what he is doing, Jimin has already decided that it is not good.

About to walk up to him, Jimin suddenly stops in the midst. It is not because somebody else has bumped into him or that he is caught up in another thought.

No.

It is because he recognizes the second figure that appears from behind the first.

...

The previous writer’s block disappears as fast as it had appeared. His fingers are now flying across the keyboard as he continues to write the perfect plan. In fact, he is so captivated by the growing paragraphs that he does not notice when another figure appears from behind.

“What are you doing?” your voice startles him.

He whirls around and snaps his notebook shut. You stand behind with a slightly surprised expression on your face. He is able to tell because your large eyes are wider than usual, and your mouth makes a small “o”.

Time had flown by so quickly that he had forgotten he was supposed to meet you at 1:00pm. Quickly checking his watch, he sees that the time is 12:50pm.

“You’re here early,” he notes. Scooting over, he then pats the seat next to him. You timidly follow his instructions and sit down beside him. The scarf you wear loosens as the wind blows and you fix it once.

“I was just in the area. Do you like croissants? I bypassed a popular bistro on the way here and bought us some.” You hand him the small box. “I know croissants are unexpected from a place like that, but I can promise you – they’re really good!”

Jungkook peeks in the box. Packaged in rows, there is a set of treats in chocolate, strawberry cream cheese and plain.

“Sets of three,” Jungkook mumbles.

You look up at him. “Sorry?”

He gives you a small laugh, yet minute as it is, it still makes your heart tumble. “A set of three. I like working in sets of three,” he tells you. Jungkook opts for the original.

You wait until he takes a bite before a smile breaks across you face. “Good, huh?”

He nods, crumbs falling onto his laptop. He brushes them away before they can dirty it further.

“What did you want to meet me for?” he asks you.

From the strangely shaped bag you had brought with you, you take out a wooden stand and a large piece of rolled paper. He watches as you set up you easel and clips the paper to the side. It is blank.

“I come here often to paint,” you explain as you take out another small bag that is filled with sketching tools, “I think it’s so beautiful here.” You don’t add that you had chosen this place because when Baekhyun first disappeared, this was the closest you could be to Jimin without actually bothering him at the station.

“So you called me here to watch you paint?”

“Sketch, actually. Today I’m here to sketch but in a couple of days I should be able to paint.”

Jungkook leans back in his seat. He sees that a new light has taken over your eyes as you take everything from the park into memory. Your pencil twirls in your fingers. Another small gust of wind blows the scarf away from your neck.

Over their time together, they had become so used to being in each other’s presence that you no longer shy away from him. There were moments when you would be reminded of the first night he stayed at your house, but believe you are not one to dwell in the past so you quickly forget it. At this moment, he is drawing the collar of your jacket up and fixing your scarf so that it would no longer loosen.

While he is helping you, you continue to talk, “You know, ever since I saw you, a feeling has been itching at me. I kept thinking that before bumping into you at the station, I had seen you before! Now I know. You were the guy who thought I was a street artist!”

Jungkook’s fingers falter as he sets them back on his lap. He does not move. What was it you had just said?

“I was at the square near my studio that evening. It was particularly nice. I remember a small ensemble playing classical music too. You had been the one to knock over my canvas.”

No. It was not him.

“Wait. It wasn’t you. It was the lady you were with!” When you remember, you gasps.

Jungkook turns when he hears you. There was not supposed to be a single person that could have remembered him with Sara that night. That was never part of the plan. When he turns his focus on you, there is a look of shock and realization. A fire begins to burn in his stomach.

You hold your hand to your mouth. You can see that Jungkook is staring at you and the guilt eats away inside. You should have seen it coming. He was a handsome, intelligent and skilled man. He had showed up out of nowhere. He was also a stranger to the city. The two of you had met outside the station. Of course he could not be here simply because of work.

He must have been here with his girlfriend.

And they had bumped into you that night on their date.

“Y/N, what is it?” Jungkook asks gently.

You sets the pencil down on the easel. “That woman you were with… That’s your girlfriend, wasn’t it? Oh my god… if she were to know that you’re staying with me right now. She would probably think that I’m some girl who is trying to steal her boyfriend.”

Your face only reddens more when Jungkook’s laughter echoes around the park. It lasts for quite a while and you do not know whether you are feeling humiliated or angry at him laughing at you.

He catches his breath and smiles widely at you. “That wasn’t my girlfriend. She was someone I was meeting for the night.”

“For a date?”

“No. For work.”

You do not know why, but you breathe a sigh of relief. “Well, I also remember you liking my painting. Do you remember?”

He gives you another smile. “Sorry, Y/N. I don’t.”

Disappointment makes your chest ache. Never good at hiding your emotions, it makes him smile again when he sees the obvious frown. He places a hand over yours. “I’d still love a painting though, if that’s what you’re offering this time.” It is infectious, that is what his smile is. You take you hand away from beneath his and regard the quiet scenic park again. “Do you like this place? Should I paint something for you here?”

He nods. “I’ll like anything you paint for me, Y/N.”

You blush at the way he says it so matter-of-factly. Looking up, you scan the surroundings once again before a large shadow rushes towards you and grabs your wrist.

You are hauled up to your feet roughly.

...

Seeing you so casually walking up to that man made him mad. But it wasn’t that which made him practically race across the park. No, it was the combination of him fixing your scarf, laughing with you and then taking your hand. He cannot allow such a thing to happen.

“Jimin!” you yelp, the pain cutting through your wrist. It burns and you feel as if somebody had dug a knife into your skin to split your bones.

Jimin has momentarily forgotten your disorder as he is blinded my rage. How dare Jungkook be sitting beside you like the two of you are friends? This man may be involved in a murder case. He may as well be the only suspect.

“What are you doing here with him?” Jimin demands.

You can barely get the words out – that is how tight Jimin is gripping your wrist and hurting you.

Jungkook is still seated, but upon seeing your face turning bright red and perspiration beading your forehead, he stands. “Detective Park, I believe you are hurting Y/N.”

His words are a cold splash of water on Jimin. He quickly releases you and you whimper while holding your wrist. He reaches towards you, but you draw back, closer to Jungkook.

“I’m so sorry,” his apology is gushes, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You rub your wrist. You know it is not broken, but the pain lingers still. You gingerly rotate it before shaking your head. “I’m fine. You took me by surprise though.”

Seeing the discomfort in your eyes, Jimin instantly feels guilty. The first time he sees you after the fight and he manages to hurt you again. “What are you doing here?” he asks again. He wants to add “with him” but he did not think it was appropriate.

“I was meeting Jungkook. I wanted to do some sketches for a painting.”

He hated your causal use of the name. He hated it with such a passion.

“Detective Park, it’s been a while,” Jungkook extends a hand.

Jimin clenches his jaw but grabs it and shakes it forcefully. “Mr. Jeon,” he says through his teeth.

You can detect the hostility between the two men. You knew Jimin didn’t like Jungkook but you couldn’t see his reason why. Jungkook had only ever been nice to you. Really, Jungkook was one of the nicest people you know.

“Why did you need to meet him to do sketches? I didn’t even know the two of you knew each other,” Jimin begins interrogating.

You falter. You had been so caught up in the previous few days you had forgotten to tell him your new housemate. Truth be told, the whole situation is so unusual for the two of you because you would talk to each other nearly every day.

“I’m temporarily living with her,” Jungkook says, unable to resist the temptation. He has already calculated and anticipated the change that would occur over Jimin’s face once he says those words. He knows that it would affect you more, but there is a type of satisfaction in seeing the rage that spreads over Jimin’s face.

It takes everything in his already weak power to hold his emotions in. Heat is already flowing to his face in which he could not control, but he could still stop the explosion of curses from leaving his mouth.

Your mouth is opened ajar once again. All the worse scenarios are running through your head.

Jungkook sheepishly rubs his neck. “Oh, this is awkward. I thought you had told him, Y/N. You two seemed so close.”

Oh yes. It is absolutely delightful in seeing the impact of his words on Detective Park Jimin.

“I – ” you start, “I didn’t get the chance to yet. Um, well… Jimin…. Jungkook is staying at my place for now. He has no other – ”

“We need to talk,” Jimin interrupts you.

You open your mouth and close it again. “Okay,” you say timidly. You start to walk towards him.

“Grab your things with you,” Jimin says sternly.

You want to refute his words but there is a sort of silent anger you recognize. You send Jungkook an apologetic look before packing away your easel and paper. Jimin waits for you and you quickly whisper, “I’m sorry,” before going away.

The two walk away like a father leading his disobedient daughter. Jungkook can only watch with amusement at the new turn of events.

...

“You’re living with him? You’re living with him? You’re living with him?!” You hear Jimin repeat the series of questions again. Your finger lightly taps your thigh and you note to yourself: the sixth time. That was the sixth time he asked the same question.

Jimin had thought for a long time on their walk to the station of what he could say. Countless words had been flying through his mind however he just couldn’t seem to find the correct ones to string together. That had led him to only repeat the one fact he is being faced with: You are living with Jungkook.

You sigh. “Yes, Jimin, I’m living with him.”

“How could you decide to do that without talking to me about it?” he explodes at last, “You barely know this guy and you invite him into your house? He’s a criminal. He’s a murderer.”

This makes you frown. Your eyebrows crease together and even your pretty face cannot hide the ugliness of your anger. “Park Jimin,” you start sternly with his name, “I don’t think it’s fair for you to make that assumption. I don’t even think you should be making that assumption.”

“Still, the two of you are living together!”

You sigh again.

Jimin stops in the middle his pacing for a second to collect his thoughts. “Fine. But what makes you think you know him enough to decide whether or not my assumption is fair?”

“Well, what makes you think you have enough power over me to stop who I’m living with?”

“I have a responsibility for you, Y/N! I don’t want you to get hurt. Jeon Jungkook is dangerous!”

“There you go again! Making another assumption! Why are you even saying this?”

“You know exactly why. It’s because – ”

“If you say that it’s because of your gut feeling I’m going to walk away right now.”

He pauses. “I just know, alright? I have evidence against him.”

“Show it to me, then.”

Presently, the two of you are arguing inside Jimin’s office. The blinds have been drawn, but the glass door is definitely not enough to hide the increasing voices. Jimin rummages through the multitude of papers and files on his desk. His thoughts are once again jumbled. He is unable to think straight at the moment and it makes him forget where he has put the files in the first place.

“You don’t have it, do you?” you accuse, “You just hate him. I don’t know what your reason is, but that’s mean. Jungkook is a good person. He takes care of me.”

Your tone is filled with exasperation. You did not enjoy when things did not go your way. Neither did he. That is the reason why the two of you tend to avoid conflicts by not being involved in each other’s personal matters. This time, however, Jimin needs his stance to be known.

“You’ve known this guy for what, two weeks? What do you mean ‘he takes care of you’? He barely even knows anything about you.”

You do not bother to correct Jimin that it has in fact been less than that. “He’s taken care of me more than you have alright?” you stab him with the words. Your face flushes the moment they leave your mouth.

Jimin’s next words are so calm, they border on hostility. “More than I have, you say? Please, enlighten me.”

“He… He supports me. He’s there for me when I need him. He’s… He’s…” With each stutter, you can feel yourself losing this fight. Pride and rage cloud your judgment, and nonetheless, you throw out your last attack, “He doesn’t try to convince me that my fiancée was murdered.”

His eyes become hard.

There are tears wavering in you eyes and you tell yourself not to blink such that they would not fall. “You tell me to try and move on after Baekhyun’s disappearance. You tell me that it’s for my own good; all this pain and guilt and frustration at losing him… You’re just as guilty, Jimin. You’ve never put Baekhyun behind you and now you’re saying something as ludicrous as him being murdered. I won’t accept it.”

He hates seeing you cry. He hates it so much. He hates it enough to contemplate easing up on your decision to live with this stranger.

No.

Walking away from you, he digs through his jacket pocket and produces an extra set of keys. He had learned to carry this around with him since knowing you. He never knew when you needed to come by and borrow his house keys.

“Take this,” he places the keys into you palm and curls your fingers around them, “When you’re done with this tantrum… or whatever this is, come home. I understand that Jeon Jungkook needs a place to live, so rent out your place to him. But I cannot have you staying alone with him. You are to live with me while he is an occupant there.”

You scoff at him, incredulously. You grip the keys in your hand before slamming them soundly on his desk.

“I am not a child,” you solemnly say, “You cannot control me like this. I am a free to make my own decisions, and I will do what I want.”

With that, you spin on your heels to exit the office. Your pulse is racing as you turn to face him again. You avoid looking directly at him but stare above past his forehead. You are afraid that if you see his expression, you would falter.

“I respect your decision to not like Jungkook. But if that’s the case, and as Jungkook is living with me, you are free to never come by my place. We will not welcome a guest who only has the intent of unsound accusation.”

You end the argument with that and stomps out the door.

...

Jungkook is waiting for you outside the station as you leave. You are so blinded by your emotions you nearly miss him until he grabs your wrist and causes you to yelp.

Immediately, he retracts his hand. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

You still want to yell at somebody, but Jimin’s injustice towards Jungkook stops you from screaming. You rub you wrist that is still sore from being grabbed previously. Adjusting the strap of your canvas on your back, you continue to walk forward.

“He’s so unfair,” you whisper.

Jungkook catches it.

“Nobody ever asked him to look out for me. I would have been fine,” you say.

“He cares for you,” Jungkook says gently.

You do not want to hear the words. Still, it is not like you can ignore them once they’re heard.

“He is worried. I am a stranger, and a man. Unfortunately, society has a stigma around single strange men who sneak up to a female to offer his phone while it is pouring rain in the middle of the night.” He tries to make a joke with you. Thankfully, it works as you lightly laugh.

“Well, still. Jimin is being stubborn. He has prejudices against you; ones that have no basis.”

“Let me guess. He thinks I’m dangerous. He thinks I might hurt you. With my involvement in his case, he might even think that I’m a suspect.”

You do not want to answer.

Jungkook stops you from walking. Your strides have been short but only increasing in speed. He is no longer sure if you even know where they are walking. With one hand still on your shoulder, he says with a soft voice, “He has every right to think so, Y/N. We have only started to get to know each other We both have secrets that we have yet to reveal to each other. Perhaps I am dangerous. Perhaps I may have the intent to hurt you.”

You look into his eyes which steadily hold you own. “But you won’t, right?”

He smiles at you. “Of course not.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” you say with resolution, “That’s what a relationship is built on. The slow accumulation of trust towards the other party. I don’t care if you have secrets, Jungkook. If you ever do want to share them, I will listen. But at the end, you don’t have to. I want to know you as you.”

He nods. Now with the rollercoaster of emotions within you coming to an end, you are able to see that the weather is beautiful that day. There is the soft melodious chirping of birds from all around you, and the streets are not busy as people have yet to be off work. A warm patch of heat is on your back as the sun greets you between the clouds.

Jungkook is quiet beside you for a while, until he says out of the blue, “Jimin really loves you.”

You whirl to regard him. “Jimin doesn’t love me. He is only tasked to look after me.”

His eyes soften when he looks at you again. He doesn’t follow up with anything, only turning his head back forward.

The speed of your heart’s beating rises slightly at his comment. You do not understand the purpose of him saying that. You do not understand what led to him to say such a thing.

“Jungkook,” you call out.

“Mhmm?”

“I still want to paint a picture for you. But I don’t think I can right now.”

“What do you mean?”

You had stopped walking beside him. He notices that and stops as well. When he finally turns to look at why you had stopped, he is greeted with the image of you standing with your wrist in the air. He sighs in concern and takes your wrist gently.

“Alright, let’s get you home,” he says kindly.

...

next part

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mimithings97 · 5 years ago

Text

How to Make Him Cum 101 (M)

Summary: You’ll love each other in sickness and health, hungover or hangry, sexless or… well, it’s becoming a little harder for the pants to stay on despite the calls of ‘let’s take this slow’ on the first date.

Pairing: Jungkook x Y/N

Genre: University AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst (tiny bit), Crack

Warnings: (Plenty my friend) Handjob, Fingering, Squirting, Sex without protection, Tongue fucking, Jungkook being whipped, Chocking (brief), Dry Humping, Jungkook cumming in his pants, lots of swearing, lots of alcohol consumption, consumption of weed

Word Count: 15k (it was meant to be 10k, but I fucked it)

A/N: I love Jungkook in this, he’s a sweetheart who has no fucking idea what he’s doing. Took me way too long to write this and I’m sorry if it drags, but I split it into little scenes to make it more manageable. It’s also pretty casual - no real storyline. Enjoy and suggestions always welcome x

“I swear to fuck, if he throws up my £2000 bourbon...”

And by some miracle, neither the end of Taehyung’s sentence nor the £150 shot Namjoon halfheartedly threw back makes an appearance.

“Nah big man can handle his shit right Joon,” is the mere drunken support offered by Jimin. It’s also accompanied by an all-too heavy hand to the back that has the elder spluttering on air, the shot well and truly burning a hole in his stomach by now.

You observe from the distance of the kitchen, fortunately barricaded from the testosterone fest by the island and several misplaced sofas. It was Jimin’s idea to upgrade the sofa scheme to one that was more ‘drinking and smoking friendly’ so he liked to call it, taking a sufficient 30 minutes just to manoeuvre several pieces of furniture into a circle that centred around all too expensive liquors and cheap weed - the irony of the contrast had most certainly dawned on you.

Your unexpected appearance to the gathering was on the account of boyfriends hazy state. He was all ‘come save me’ and ‘i’m dying’ over your texted conversation but upon arrival, the boy was all over that tequila bottle like he was downing chocolate milk.

Despite your best intentions of remaining inconspicuous and merely Jungkook’s driver for the night went to shit when Jimin, unapologetic and somewhere between happily stoned and confident drunk demanded you join their escapades.

“Booze or bud but not neither Y/N.” Nothing like a typical Taehyung to welcome you to the action.

“Well you didn’t say I couldn’t have both,” is your reply that’s laced with a brazen tone and paired with a smirk.

You’re met with Taehyung tonguing his cheek.

“That’s my girl,” Jungkook shouts mid-laugh and gives you a smack to the ass for good measure. You find comfort in the gesture, so following his drifting hand to the point that you settle in his lap.

Jungkook must have drunk his weight in alcohol because it’s all touches from behind you, cold hands finding their way under cloth and onto warm skin, lips clamping down on your neck and teeth unforgiving on your ear lobe. Your boyfriend’s a modest guy even at worst, so his provoking actions are met with raised eyebrows on your behalf.

Slowly but surely, with the burn of smoke in your lungs and the even harsher burn of rich whiskey (because £2000 bourbon is a harsh no), Jungkook’s hands roam freely.

“Jesus mate, if you’d have fucked her the second time you would’ve had that pussy on hold, swear down.” Somewhere between your silent touches and unauthorized smoking of all of Namjoon’s weed, the conversation had delved into the topic of Jimin’s overly privileged sex life.

“That’s exactly what I said but the bitch pussied out,” Hobi pipes up from the corner where he’d faded away from being too legit faded - boy never could handle his smoke.

“Fuck off did I pussy ou-”

“Nahhh she had you whipped babe, that second shag wasn’t even on the cards,” you mouth speaks for you. Or more like your high speaks for you at this point.

You feel Kook smile into your shoulder from where his head was perched.

“This’ll be good,” it’s under Taehyung’s breath but not inaudible.

“Fuck do you mean, ‘she had me whipped’, she was all over me that night at Joon’s...” Jimin swigs mid-sentence, flushed from the buzz of liquor and his overly defensive tone, “had her wrapped around my little finger.”

… the opportunity was too good to miss.

“What little finger?” You refrain from laughing at your own remark for dramatic effect but Jungkook’s squeezing your sides and the lightness of your head betrays you.

Jimin’s eye contact with your falters as if his ego broken, and the others pass around comments along the lines of ‘fucking brilliant’ and ‘unlucky mate’.

You take a final drag before passing it behind you to the already seeking hand of your boyfriend who’s still amused by your smart-mouth.

“Jimin, I’m just saying,” you elaborate in hopes of restoring his cracked masculinity somewhat, “from what Stephanie told me, Mina had four guys on hold at that party and wasn’t inclined to let any of them stick in on her cos she’s got a full-on guy waiting for her away from uni.”

He huffs, throwing himself and his bottle backwards onto the sofa, causing it to slosh around and out. You peer over at Taehyung, waiting for the boy to morph into an expression of disgust because god knows, this sofa cover costs more than your rent, but he never does - eyes glazed and a small smile instead.

“Fucking brilliant, I was fifth on a girls ‘need to shag’ list.” You almost feel bad for the sod, but one thing Jimin could never do was keep his mouth shut when it needed to be. “At least I’m doing better than you, Y/N, you can’t even get a fuck off your boyfriend and you’ve been together for months.”

Taehyung’s smile drifts, Hobi shifts in his seat and Jungkook stiffens from behind you - the air dries up.

“Jimin, mate, come on,” Joon tries to reason, but as per usual Jimin keeps his mouth moving.

“I said what I said.”

Yeh, he sure fucking did. And if one thing was known to be uncharted conversation between the lot of you, then that was your and Jungkook’s abstinence. But in true style, Jimin just had to pry.

----------------------------------------

“Fuck it, maybe we should just have sex,” he finally says as you stall over wiping off your eyeliner to laugh at his exasperation. Jungkook wasn’t insecure but he was easily influenced when something hurt his pride - and you could tell, from Jimin’s comment, throughout the awkward air that lingered in the car, to just now, that he had been stewing on the dent to his ego from the moment it was spoken.

You want to tell him with all the sarcasm in the world how ‘romantic’ he’s being about it all, but you refrain to save further damage.

“Kook-”

“Nah, seriously Y/N, I’m tired of this shit…” you want to diffuse his state, but he persists, “and- I don’t really know what I’m waiting on now.”

“Baby,” you finally get a grip on his attention as he lets out a huff and welcomes you onto his lap. “You’ve had your reasons to wait on this, I’ve always respected that. But…” he groans and you lean into him as a warning to let you finish, “buttt, I’m not gonna respect any shit when you’re letting Jimin decide for you. Just cos the boy can’t get his dick wet doesn’t mean you have to.”

You feel him snicker against your shoulder as he lowers his head in frustration.

“You do this on your own time. Not mine,” you weave your fingers through his locks and anchor him to you, “not Jimin’s, not anyone but yours,” and finalise your sentiment by situating your lips on his temple.

With eyes fluttering shut into your touch and a heavy breath out he indulges in his insecurity. “I just can’t afford to lose you.” And you know it takes his booze-filled conscience to let you in.

You have to admit that there was some level of hurt you managed to hide at this point. That even after relishing in one another's company for 5 months, Jungkook still couldn’t find it in himself to trust you in that way. It was a mental thing, an emotional instinct of too many failed relationships where he was a victim to being cheated on, left after being used for sex and prayed on for good looks and unfortunate vulnerability. You knew within yourself you would never and could never do what so many have done before you. Fuck, you couldn’t even see yourself being sane and capable without him, ever, period. For that, you respected his decision - whilst frustratingly prolonged - because you knew he was worth the wait.

“I need you just as much as you need me.” You sense the slump in his shoulders, the heaviness of too many pressures and burdens weighing them down. That and his drug-induced state causing unwanted fatigue. “Hmm?” So you lift his chin and search his eyes till they meet yours, passing on a reassurance that he finally accepts with a curt nod.

“Yeh, I know.”

You press a kiss, or two to his lips and lean back to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Now are you gonna keep sulking to yourself like a bitch or let me make you cum?” His instant response is his eyes blowing out in shock of your statement before laughing into your chest. You know him well enough that he is using your chest to hide the blush in his cheeks but you don’t mention it.

Instead, you wiggle your hips with no subtlety into the twitch of his groin that seeks your mouth so desperately, laughing when he grabs you at the cheeks and pulls you away to say, “You’re fucking mental.” But against his lips you can’t help the, “-Nd you love me for it,” that is mumbled.

Yeah, this boy was definitely worth the wait.

----------------------------------------

Weekends seem to roll around at a quickening pace when you have a needy boyfriend and even more demanding party schedule to fill the gaps. And by some freak of nature, you hadn’t managed to drop your education off a cliff in the meantime - in fact, you had begun to make a living off having beer in one hand and highlighter in the other.

University wasn’t a walk in the park, but you’d been enough of a devoted intellect in your first two years of it to allow yourself to drop off the map a little. So, after becoming a co-captain of the swim team somewhere into your second year, it was only a natural, human instinct kind of reaction that your fellow captain, the hunk of abs who graced poolside, would slip a few too many flirty remarks at you before you called him your boyfriend. He’d pined and you’d fallen - simple as.

He came with baggage though. Six boys and a whole lot of booze and weed. You were no saint before Jungkook, hell, you almost weren’t allowed swim captain because you’d slept in one too many of the guys beds. But as soon as you’d said ‘yes’ to the going out for drinks invitation he offered, you had also said ‘yes’ to the party on Saturday at Hoseok’s, and the one on Sunday down at the river, and for every weekend for the next 5 months. And slowly but surely, it was no longer, ‘this is my girlfriend’ as an introduction, but you asking the familiar face around the party with all urgency where the nearest bottle of tequila was.

It’s also how you’d landed yourself filthily hungover in your Monday lecture, listening to Professor Snape (nah, it’s his real name and all) with a noticeable shake in your hand and last nights mascara somewhere down your face.

“If you look that shit, then what the hell does Kook look like.” Mina, the best friend, the only one allowed to hold back your hair whilst you would throw up in a second-floor bathroom, and the roommate who made student life just a bit more bearable than the shit show it was.

She takes the seat next to you, her question probably rhetorical but you make the effort to reply, all the same.

“Still asleep in the bathtub I reckon.” Ah, yes, the boyfriend. At somewhere between 1 in the morning and blackout drunk you, Jungkook and your infamous competitiveness called for beer pong - minus the beer, add the vodka. So it was only gonna be a certain amount of time before both you and him were pushed into a cab on top of one another and drafted back to his flat so he could throw up in his bathtub.

“Jesus,” Mina mutters with a laugh, probably just relieved someone ordered your taxi to go to his and not your shared apartment - like hell was she listening to Jungkook throw up at 5 in the morning.

“Honestly, why does Yoongi host that shit on Sunday,” you groan into your laptop, turning down the brightness because you can already feel the afternoon hangover headache arising.

“He doesn’t have a 9am like the rest of us.”

“Fucker.”

Good host though, Yoongi. A postgrad, with his own two-storey apartment and too much time on his hands. You’d known him before the boyfriend too, working shifts with him in your first year at a music production company, both in the catering section because you had time to fill and tuition to pay and he was hoping to find his break into the industry. He fucked it though and has ended up with some crazy paid apprenticeship at a financial branch in the city centre.

“Oi, Bob’s this weekend?” Mina poses the question as the lights brighten in the lecture room and everyone starts shutting laptops - yours was shut ten minutes ago when you stopped listening and started wallowing in self-pity.

“Bob’s?” Bermuda Bobs. A club in the centre of town, and somewhat of a regular for Friday nights, when Hoseok had had just about enough of hosting. “Yeh. Yeh, I can do Bobs.”

Mina’s up and off before you can even open the zip on your bag, something about she’ll miss her lift to training, but you mumble that you’ll see her at the apartment later before you can see the back of her head.

All you can think as you conquer the steps to the exit of the hall is how much of a blessing a shower and a cup of tea would be - ‘so easily pleased’ Mina would say. So, when you look up from your phone to see Jungkook opposite where you walk out, a cup of tea in hand, you might just believe in fate.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he says, throat hoarse as he takes you bag from your shoulder and places the coffee into your welcoming hands. You laugh at him, a snort because it’s ironic considering the bloodshot eyes and beer-stained hair he sports.

“You were passed out in the bath legit an hour ago,” his hand finds yours despite your teasing and when you finally take the first sip of tea as you walk, anyone would think the noise you made was nothing short of an orgasm - Jungkook certainly takes notice. “Did you bring the car?”

He snorts, “Like fuck did I bring the car, I’m still drunk.”

“Babbbyy,” it’s a whine as you throw your head back and pull his hand to make your point into a tantrum.

“It’s literally a 5 minute walk babe, suck it up.” He continues ahead, but you go full 5 year old tactics on him, stopping in your tracks and whacking on your face the biggest pout your lips will allow.

He merely rolls his eyes and kisses it away before presenting his back to you, arms out, legs bent and you hop onto him like the spoilt girlfriend you are.

“You’re a brat, you know that.” Is all he says as he starts the walk out of the building and towards his, so you kiss behind his ear.

“Mmm, call me that again, it kinda turns me on.”

“Fucking filty,” but you see the crinkle in his eyes that lets you know that he loves you for it.

----------------------------------------

Friday nights roll around quicker than you know when Bob’s is calling. They start earlier than most nights as well - lecture leads to swim training, swim training calls for afternoon drinks at Warehouse and then Warehouse blurs into Pre’s that blurs into Bob’s.

So with beer curdling in your stomach, trying to flick the wing of your eyeliner and failing for the fifteenth time is as funny as Jimin’s pinkie to you and Mina.

She is, of course, ready. Has been for almost 2 hours, so whilst you struggle to slip into your dress, she finishes your eyeliner for you.

The buzz of your phone has both of you looking to the vibrating device in confusion, having to double-take with each other because the taxi isn’t supposed to be here until Jungkook is and he isn’t supposed to be here for another half an hour.

Your fumbling with a zip so it’s Mina who reaches for it, and when the screen lights her face, her features go from confused to ‘for fucks sake’ in less than a second. She turns it and that god awful photo of Jungkook and his swimming goggles on lights up the display.

“I’ll get the door.” She’s exasperated. He’s early and she can’t stand that - all it took was him showing up at the wrong time on a Wednesday whilst she was naked on the sofa with a girl between her legs that caused the ‘come when you’re fucking asked to come’ attitude - poor boy didn’t even know she was gay.

You do a once over in the mirror before the door swings open, Mina has a scowl but your boyfriend has a lime in one hand and tequila in the other, so you don’t care.

“Shit, you look hot,” Fuck, so does he, but he’s pressing a kiss to your lips before you can drink him in fully, “s’that dress new?”

“I did the makeup, thank me.” Mina was always loud, and speaking at the wrong places and in the wrong conversations.

“Kindly fuck off, you did the eyeliner and shit all else.” You turn back to Kook, now leaning against your wall, eyes still trained on you, or at least, your legs, and he looks fucking thirsty that’s for sure. “And yeh, got it when I went in the city the other week.” He replies with a nod and a smirk. Those damn bedroom eyes, they hold your gaze, as you fiddle with the clasp on the side of your dress.

Mine pipes up from the sidelines, “God, it’s like I’m watching a fucking mating ritual or something.” Jungkook scoffs and his shoulders ease as though he’s calming himself down, “Well, I’m ready so shots it is.” She grabs the bottle of tequila from Jungkook’s hand and is off into the kitchen without looking back.

“Who put a foot up her ass then?” He only says it once the door is closed, knowing he’ll get a whacking if Mina heard him, so you scowl at him, albeit through a smile.

“Oi, watch it,” you’re in front of him now, leaning into the arm he stretched out to embrace you in.

“Sorry,” and he means it. He genuinely likes Mina, you’re sure of it, but they go at each other like cats in an alley when you’re not there to referee it.

He’s warm around you, his shirt with buttons undone at the top so that the cologne he’s wearing goes right to your head - and to your core - either one. The proximity does the same to him as he takes a handful of your ass, groping so that when you gasp and try to pull away, he administers a slap.

You can’t deny you’re horny for him, and the way his trousers frame his bulge perfectly - you lick your lips subconsciously at the thought - but you can almost hear the sadness of Mina pouring and downing Tequila shots by herself.

“Fucker,” you whisper and lean out of his hold almost, only to see that fire in his eyes.

“I love this ass,” hands now sneaking underneath the fabric of your dress - like it was covering much anyway, but that doesn’t change the way his cold fingers spread across your behind and almost make you moan out. It’s when he takes your bottom lip in his teeth and pulls back agonizing slowly until it pops back into place that the moan you were stifling releases, slowly, seductively, and his crotch stirs at the thought of you making the same noise around his dick.

But if Kook can restrain himself enough into denying you a fuck for 5 months, then you can be just as disciplined now - whether the wetness on your thighs tells you something different or not.

You toy with him though.

At a pace nothing short of tormenting, you lean your leg into the space between his, drag your lips across his cheek to his ear and let your fingers draw a line from the gap in his shirt, underneath and across his chest, “But you know what’s better than this ass, baby?” You play the seductress with you voice, and you know it does bits to him.

Your question was rhetoric, but when he doesn’t reply, you can’t help but grab at his belt with a hand and tug his crotch into your leg. He sputters out breathily into your neck, “W-what?”

You lean back, wait for his eyes to open and gage the lust and excitement brewing within them before opening your mouth against his…

“...Tequila shots.” You smack his thigh, turn and are out the door before his erection can say ‘shit’.

Two can play at his game of denial.

Your all kinds of worked up despite your best efforts, but Mina’s got lime in her mouth and her face crinkled into an expression of disgust as you eye the empty shot glass on the counter, so it’s not like she’s gonna be sniffing out your hormones any time soon.

“Fucking shit, rancid, I hate it, don’t wanna drink ever, absolutely not,” you laugh at her outburst as you refill her shot glass for yourself.

“Lightweight,” you tease her as you throw it all back, wincing internally as you feel the hole burn in your throat, but suck it up for the sake of your competitive streak. She merely scoffs at you as the bedroom door swings open, Jungkook - still a fine piece of ass right now - tucking his shirt into his trousers. No way did he just finish himself off in that time, but your eyes travel down to his hard on that is very much still there. You can’t help the smirk.

“Kook, get your shot down you then we’re off,” Mina announces.

“Taxi here already?” he questions but she shakes her head as she now sports a wine bottle in her hand, and clearly a mouth full of wine as she fails to verbalise.

Shots are down, wine is drunk, and heads are well and truly dizzy when you reach the club. The cab was early much to Mina’s dismay, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing the tequila bottle from Jungkook and downing a healthy portion of the liquid before collapsing in instant regret - ‘we’ve all been there Min’ was your only advice. As for Jungkook. Well, the boy never showed when he was drunk until he would take his shirt off and shout he was wasted, so the only way you could gauge his state was by the way his fingers dug into your thigh the entire journey - you just couldn’t work out whether it was the alcohol or his dick talking.

“Y/NNN!” you hear before see Jimin, despite the music that reverberates through the floor and up your body. As always, he has bottle in hand and a girl in the other, but he releases her to embrace you.

It’s a love, hate with Jimin, but he was Jungkook’s best friend, so there was and could not be bad blood between the two of you - much the same to Jungkook and Mina. Jimin swam as well, so you were no strangers to sharing situations that required great comfort with one alone - such as you in a swimming costume and him in his damn speedos. There was only one thing better than Jimin in speedos though, and that was Jungkook in speedos.

“Where’s your boyfriend, he owes me a fucking drink,” and you point to the bar, where he leans over the counter in all his glory and much to the fortune of your eyes. Jimin escorts himself and the girl he’s with over to the bar before you can catch her name - she’s pretty, though, which is no surprise with Jimin’s taste.

It takes the next 30 minutes, or possibly longer because alcohol tends to blur hours to minutes before you’ve made conversation with everyone there. It’s almost admin now, having to do the rounds when all the people from swimming go out - a swim captain apparently has certain obligations of seeing everyone had a drink in hand and a ride to go home in. Kook was doing the same too, across the club, slowly but surely making his way towards you as he talked to some of the guys. He’d winked one too many times at you for it to be coincidence, and the alcohol you’d been consuming was screaming out to you now to fuck the pointless conversation and grind on your damn fit boyfriend.

“Fuck Josh, Mel, the boy can’t even get it up, and you’re too much of a hot piece of ass to waste on him,” Mina’s on one of her motivational talks with the social sec, Mel - absolute sweetheart, heart of gold and awful taste in men. Also the subject of Mina’s subconscious flirting for the last hour or so, but you don’t have the heart to tell Mina to stop - she’s drunk and probably horny knowing her.

“Y/N,” you’re face first in your vodka red bull (double), to hear Mina, having zoned out from her pining after she started getting emotional. “Y/N!” You finally ease up on the drink when you hear her this time.

“Hmm?” mouth half full.

“Have you ever seen someone get eye fucked?” Her eyes flicker from you to something else, but you’re too caught up in the absurdity of her question to notice.

“The fuck?”

“Because I’m watching it happen right now,” and it’s a nod that finally directs your questioning gaze away from your best friend and to a figure at the bar, elbows tucked behind him, a bottle of beer at his side, legs to die for and eyes boring right into yours. He’s playing dirty tonight, is all you think. So despite the way your core tightens and the hair on your neck unknowingly rises, you feed into his game, the cat and mouse kind of thing he seems to be grabbing at, and put up your facade.

You're slow to get to him, but it’s deliberate. And instead of giving in to his gaze or his touch, you place your feet right beside his, leaning towards the bar and into the sight of the bartender.

It’s the raise of her eyebrows at you and the curt smile that prompts you to talk, “two shots of tequila please,” she begins to spin but you stop her, “oh, and plenty of salt and lime.”

It takes physical energy not to give in to human instinct - to touch and to grab him, to let go of the role play.

“Anyone would think you’re ordering for two,” his voice is gravely, and fuck if it doesn’t shoot straight down you. But his comment makes you smile, smirk actually.

“You say that as if I can’t handle my alcohol,” you raise an eyebrow to yourself, still feigning your confidence by not looking his way.

Two shots are lined up in front of you, limes perched on top, and a generously filled salt shaker to the left of them.

“Well tequila is a dangerous game to play,” you pick up either shot in your hand, and fight the urge to shiver as his words that are breathed against your ear. You round from the side of him, eyes finally lifting to his and filling some void that was there, but by no means lifting any tension between the two of you.

“Then let’s play dangerously,” you say, eyes sultry and him waiting on your every move, “the first one to have their salt, their shot and their lime gone first is the winner..”

“And what does the winning get?” Damn, he’s eager.

You lean in, but still don’t touch. “That’s for the winner to know, and the loser to find out.”

You can see a vague pick up in his breathing, a sheen of sweat forming against his brow and a vague smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth. Lifting the lime off your shot, he almost proceeds to do the same, about to take the shot to his lips but you stop him, instead pushing your shot into his vacant hand. The only explanation offered is when you take your lime down the column of your throat and down to your cleavage, before reaching to the salt that’s behind him. You pour a small mound of it onto your finger and follow the path that the lime drew. He eyes you like artwork, and doesn’t lift his gaze from your cleavage where you nestle the lime.

You pour more salt onto your forefinger, and his eyes finally lift in an expression of confusion, but words evade him - hell, he hasn’t taken a solid breath for the past minute. Slowly, tourturningly, you lean into him, carefully avoiding his shot, and catch his breath hitching as you press the point of your tongue into the base of his neck, dragging it upwards until you meet his jaw. You almost couldn’t stop yourself from proceeding further, drinking in the salty taste of him and eating away at his sanity with your tongue - but you refrain, all in the name of dramatic effect.

“Fuck,” is all he says as he keeps his breath hitched, and you push your finger down the line your tongue drew, spreading salt southwards.

He almost looks tapped out when you take his lime from between you, eyes completely glazed, and fortunately for you they blow out even further when you tug the belt of his trousers and place your lime in the waistband - like his erection wouldn’t have held it up anyways.

Retrieving one of the shots from his grasp, where his knuckles had turned white against the glass, you hold his gaze.

“I think you should go ahead,” you’re more breathy than you realised, even despite it being your game.

“I-I thought,” he has to clear his throat, “it’s who can do it the fastest,” it’s barely even a question with how quiet he mumbled the words - you’re not even sure he knew what he was saying.

“Who said I wanted to win, baby?” And he lets out a moan, a full blown moan before he encases your throat with his mouth, and he’s almost animalistic in the way he growls against your skin at the taste. He bites down when he reaches just above the lime and your eyes roll back unconsciously before opening to see him throw his head back with the shot, not a single wince in his eyes because they are so driven by desire. The shot glass is slammed behind him before he dives into your cleavage to retrieve the lime, and in some display of masculinity that almost has you keening he rips the lime from his mouth and tosses it behind you, juice rolling down his face and onto his jaw to linger with the line of salt that glistens there.

You don’t even realise you're on his throat until the overly salty taste pricks your mouth and you can feel his jaw tense beneath you. You're almost in a haze when the tequila sets your throat ablaze but you become fully conscious of the way he grabs a fistful of your hair, pushes you to the floor until your dress bunches and has you sucking at the lime that rests mockingly above his hard cock.

By some miracle you find yourself back up at eye level, chests heaving to the point of almost touching, and if you didn’t have a lime in your mouth right now you’d either be swearing obscenely in some gesture of saying ‘your so fucking hot’ or your lips would be around his dick.

With a gulp and a tilt of his head backwards, he gains a level of composure that allows him to ease the lime from your lips with his fingers, letting them brush at your skin to have you shivering.

It’s almost comical the way you both pant, eyes ablaze in each others, and completely oblivious to the outside world and how many, way too many people have seen your display. But there is nothing but the burn in your bodies right now as he grabs your hand wordlessly and drags you as fast as your heels will allow.

It’s like a switch had flipped in him somewhere back there. Even if this whole thing was roleplay, at least you knew how to play it with your boyfriend back there, knew the way he ticks and what would make his cock twitch - Jungkook’s normally easy to read like that. But when he almost breaks the disabled toilet door down with his hand, there is no game left to play - the restraints are off and the fire of lustful rage is fueled.

“You-” he slams you back against the door before its even swung shut and you can get a single word in. It’s carnal the way he’s latching onto your mouth, grabbing your hands that try to clasp at his neck and throw them up next to your head, and shoves a knee between your sopping thighs.

“I almost fucking came in my trousers back there when you got on your knees,” you don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice so low and rough before but it courses through you more than the heavy bass of the club music. “You had me stood there ready to fuck your mouth open, but you thought you’d fucking tease your way through it.”

He’s domineering and your completely and utterly keening for it. Even more so when the grip he has on your wrist tightens and brings it down to his crotch, forcing your latch onto the erection that strains sinfully, painfully in his trousers and you feel intimidated enough at his display that you don’t palm him, don’t give him a pleasureful squeeze like you normally would when you had more control of your emotions. But you're shocked and fucked out - beyond that even.

“You feel that shit. Fuck, I’ve never been this hard before,” you moan out lowly, finding it increasingly difficult to control your breathing, the nature of the lust in your body calling out for some friction on your body. But he stands there, eyes ablaze, panting his taunting remarks into your agape mouth. “You’re making it so damn hard not to fuck you.”

“Do it,” you whisper without even knowing and neither does Jungkook because the ringing in both of your ears is deafening.

“I’ve always wanted to see you fall apart around my cock… lose it as I fuck you,” his crotch starts riveting into your hand and you know he’s imaging what it would feel like with his dick nestled deep in your walls right now, “God I want to pound into you.”

“Fuck.”

Fuck, because never have his words been so dirty before.

“You’re so damn hot I actually can’t control myself right now,” and his dick follows his words. Your hand now acts as your pussy - in his head anyway - as the friction of his trousers begins sending him neck deep in pleasure.

You actually think you could come from watching it. How his head now bows into your neck and his teeth set into your skin because he can’t even control how slack his jaw has become. The way he’s getting harder and harder against your hand and his movements are constantly seeking more. Fucking hell, you’re both fully clothed, his dicks rock hard in his pants but he’s so pent up on you and the desire you’ve caused that he’s chasing an orgasm basically untouched.

“I- oh fuck.”

“Come on baby,” you feed him, words moaned against his ear and hand flattening more purposefully against him, “fuck me harder.”

“Argh- fuc-fucking hell,” he’s spurred on by the illusion you offer. His eyes rolled back in his head as he imagines the feeling of being balls deep in you.

“Think how good I’d feel. Fuck, you’d be so deep uhh,” you moan out at the end as the harshness of the way his hips snap into yours causes your hand nestled between you to deliciously rub on your clit.

You hadn’t realised that your dress had ridden up in the commotion of you sex driven states, that your ass was pressed up against the cool surface and gave you goosebumps despite the way you body oozes heat, that you panties were so wrecked by your arousal that your hand might as well be rubbing you raw. And with Jungkook’s quickening pace, the friction against your clit makes you all too driven to seek your end as well as his. It’s filthy.

“Ko-uh. Fuck, Kook, I need you fingers- ah,” your walls are throbbing at the thought, but his teeth remain deep set in the junction between your neck and shoulder, his hips still thrusting up and into your hand, so you think you’re desire has gone unheard.

But all too quickly, he forgets the end he was chasing.

Suddenly, he backs away from you, leaving you untouched and leaning forward into the air, whilst his cock screams in the confines of his trousers. He growls at the way he had to stop himself from cumming too soon.

“Baby,” it’s a whine from the back of your throat that you had no plan to release. But the way your chest heaves and your thighs cross one another for friction just spells to you and him just how inflamed your body is.

His eyes move away from your desperate ones, and his neck reclines back as he swallows - trying with all his strength to keep it together, to not cum from merely watching your cleavage, drenched in his and your sweat, rise and fall with the way your breathing staggers. Watching him is torture for yourself, but you don’t want to miss the way his cock throbs.

You have no idea how long you’re there, him grappling at his sanity and you watching him.

“Baby, I-”

“Fuck, don’t talk,” his face almost contorts in pain and his head lowers into his chest to halt his urge to look at you.

But, you’re horny and you're a brat, so you persist.

“Jungkook, I need you right now.”

Silence falls for a mere second.

Like a man possessed he lunges back towards your body, and before you can react he’s on his knees violently pushing the thin fabric of your dress up and ripping your panties down your legs.

“What don’t you understand about shut the fuck up.” And with that he’s on your clit, hands shoving your legs in opposite directions and over his shoulders so you lose your balance and end up speared on his tongue.

“Kook!” It’s a cry that’s shouted into the air when your head is thrown back - a reaction to both the immense feeling that tightens at your core and a warning to the man below you that you might just crush him.

But he’s devouring your pussy whole. He’s no longer tending to your clit, but lapping his tongue up and down the entire expanse of your slit, letting the muscle of his tongue slip into your entrance making your stomach drop every time. He’s hellbent on making you cum that’s for sure, because no matter the tug of your hands at his scalp to let up even just a little, he’s growling into you and plunging deeper.

You want to pull away, to finally take a break from the intense pressure on your core or maybe to breathe for the first time since he decided to drop to his knees. But you’re feet don’t touch the ground, literally, and he’s suspending you on his tongue.

His hands push you down further onto him and he growls into you, vibrations coursing through you that almost makes you cum then and there. But he breaks away.

“Fuck,” he sounds fucked out himself, taking in all the air he can, because god knows he was eating your pussy like it was oxygen. “Baby, you gotta cum on my tongue, please.”

He was the one eating you out, yet you had him pleading. Boy always did submit in the end, whether he liked it or not.

“Fingers then. Use your fingers,” and he obeys, releasing your thigh in favour of thrusting two of his digits deep into you. All your weight goes onto his shoulders and the two fingers set so far into your womb that you were crying out in pleasure. It wasn’t until his mouth resumed sucking on your clit that you lost all control of your tongue and rambled into the air like a mad woman.

“F-Fuckkk Kook. I want ah- fuck I want your cum inside me. I want your dick so bad,” he’s moaning with you and with your words, being spurred on by the image you paint. He curls his fingers deep inside you, and you lose yourself on the feeling - being so stimulated that you miss the fact you’re grinding on his face, thrusting up as if his fingers were really his cock. He’s moaning at it, at the way your pace picks up on his tongue and you’re seeking your end.

“Don’t stop, oh fuck, oh fuck, please- don’t stop.”

You’re driving yourself deeper and deeper into him and fuckkk if the pleasure hasn’t taken over your senses beyond belief. Your stomach pulls so tight with the need to release that you’re grappling at the strands of hair on the back of your boyfriend’s head and using them to anchor yourself. He’s purely a mouth and two fingers to fuck yourself on at this moment and you couldn’t stop yourself even if you tried.

“Shit, fuckk,” his fingers start going at a rate, not even your hips can keep up with, and he’s so deep you almost choke like the pressure inside you has reached up into your throat.

“Come on baby, fuck,” his gravelly voice seeks out for you to come all over him.

“Holy fuckin-” the feeling comes on so intense inside of you that you struggle to warn him, your breathing constricted almost into nothingness. You feel like you’re about to cum with such strength that you might die.

“I can’t Kook- oh fuckk.”

“Give it to me.”

His teeth clamp down on your clit at the same time as his fingers curl against that spot inside you that suddenly has everything spiralling at once.

“Don’t stoppp, don’t stop, oh fuck,” you sputter into the air as a band snaps in your lower stomach, blood pumping everywhere and anywhere in your body so that your hips begin spasming and convulsing on top of his mouth.

He whines into you as his mouth keep fastening all too strongly against your bud. It’s when the pressure that keeps falling in your stomach and Kook is forced to pull his fingers out of you that you feel your juices spill and keep spilling all over you and him.

“Holy fuck baby… Y/N shit.”

You tumble further and further and miss the noises that are pushed from your throat. In the intensity of the pleasure you also miss the way Jungkook’s body, his tongue on your clit, his fingers on your thigh and the ones lodged deep inside you, all tense up.

Shit.

You wonder if you’ve blacked out when the slump of your body takes over, the eventual air you take in in one large breath making your senses begin to come back all too strong. You’re broken from the waist down, legs numb to the point you can barely feel Jungkook’s teeth tight on your thigh and breath glazing the skin strongly. Shit, you can’t even feel how wet you are yet.

You know the weight he’s bearing on his shoulders, but you can’t muster the strength to move, merely loosening your hands from how tight they were wound in his locks and instead soothing down to his neck with your trembling fingers.

Finally, the spin in your head stops and your eyes are open enough so that you can look down at the sight below you.

He’s breathless and wet. Wet from sweat and the way you’d just squirted all over his tongue, fingers and trousers - well that’s what you figure anyways. His eyes are sewn shut though in the aftermath of it all, and your thoughts begin to piece together.

“Baby, you good?” you’re scared he has too much literal weight on his shoulders. You’re also scared he’s still painfully hard. “Kook?” and finally a coherent mumble of ‘yeh’ against your thigh tells you, no, you didn’t just kill your boyfriend by cumming on his face.

It’s a slow process the way he lets your legs down, and you wince as he does so because you swear his fingers just split you open. You also forgot about the heels practically taped to your feet, stumbling a little one foot at a time as he lowers you off his shoulders.

His eyelids still hang low, and he makes no move to join you at eye level, instead, pressing his face into your thigh and running his ragged breath there for too long.

“Fuck, seriously, you good baby?” your pussy still throbs, but your boyfriend is too still for you to take notice.

And suddenly he’s laughing. Wholeheartedly laughing into your skin, back, that’s slicked with sweat, raising up and down as he does so.

“Shit,” is all he says when his eyes, crinkled in laughter and exhaustion finally meet yours, peering up from his squat. It’s infectious and has you laughing too, albeit half heartedly because your throat hurts and you’re not sure if your lungs can take much more unnatural breathing.

“You literally just made me cum in my pants.”

Fuck. You’re eyes bulge and pass between the look of disbelief of his face, to the, now, very noticeable stain on his crotch, and back again. Boy literally just came untouched because you can still feel the imprint of one hand on your thigh and you’re pretty sure the other hand was occupied if you remember correctly.

“What the fuck!” Is all you can say.

“Yeh, I know ‘what the fuck!’ Sorry but since when could you squirt.” His legs are still shaking beneath him. “It made me just fucking shoot my load on sight.”

You’re laughing, bending at the waist to help the poor boy up to his feet, and he accepts the help as he finally towers over you and meets your eyes - both looking at each other with warmth and a vague emotion of disbelief, because as if he just came in his pants!

“Seriously, don’t know what the hell you just did to me, but I don’t think I’ll ever be that turned on ever in my life again,” he’s sputtering out now like a boy charged on drained hormones and ageing drunkness.

You laugh at his state and the way his eyes still bulge, grabbing the skin of his neck that’s thick with sweat and push a kiss to his lips. It doesn’t linger because you’re too spent and oxygen is like gold dust to you right now.

“So you enjoyed yourself I’m guessing?”

“Fucking hell did I!” You both can’t stop the way your laughter spills at the situation.

You see his shoulders eventually relax, his breathing less frequent and the look in his eyes turns soft.

“Fuck, I’m so in love with you.” Despite your heart still beating like it’s on steroids, you feel it skip a beat, equal to the way you can’t help the tug on the corners of your mouth.

“Cringy bastard,” you whisper next to his lips, a whole new warmth spreading through you at the way his eyes are filled with adoration.

“Only for you.”

“You make me sick.” But in your head, you’re saying the opposite, because you can’t fight the blush despite how generic his cringe worthy compliments hit.

With clothes vaguely realigned, you’re ready to join society once again, albeit hobbling, but your boyfriend refuses to break the bubble you’re in for just a second longer.

“Say it back.” And when you turn from the door to him, he’s actually pouting, eyes a little less bright as though you’re unspoken words have hit harder than you realised. “Please.”

Your relationship with Kook was built off backhanded compliments and competitive sarcasm, both equally easy-going people with a knack for not taking anything seriously. It was how you two worked. But there’s some things you can’t feign, and the way he said “I love you” with deliberate sadness was one of those things, because hell, you sure loved him too.

His cheeks nestled in both of your palms now as your soft eyes met his ones, vulnerable with the way he’d bared himself and pleaded after you, you spoke softly.

“I love you.”

---------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck you, Kook. Stop acting like you own me.”

“Then don’t try to sleep with the whole swim team.”

Dick.

This shit is rare. Fighting Jungkook is rare. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Because whilst you’re both too easy going for your own good and take most things on the chin, jealousy hurts like a bitch.

“Jesus you’re fucking testing my patience.” You settle yourself deep in his kitchen, long strides over there because his presence alone is making you want to rip hairs out of your skull. But he’s there soon after, leaning to try to get into your line of sight as you busy yourself with a glass and fuck, where’s that bottle of wine.

“Nah, don’t act like I’m pushing you. I asked you why Jimin’s asking to meet you, and you can’t come up with a damn straight answer or show me your phone.” You find the wine in the fridge, pretending Jungkook is background noise like the petty bitch you are, but his words are ringing in your head louder than you care for. “Don’t treat me like I’m delusional.”

You slam the bottle down a little too hard on the counter and his eyes jump to the sound. But your expression is dead set, angry, persistent, but he’d say stubborn.

“You’re actually dumb. The whole fucking issue is that I shouldn’t have to tell you why someone texts me or not.” His mouth opens to argue but you’re off on one, “Whether it’s Jimin, whether it’s my mum, whether it was your fucking maintenance guy, it’s my phone, don’t check it, and don’t pretend you’re entitled to.”

His eyes narrow and you almost think there’s something in him contemplating your words, maybe, just maybe trying to hear you out and understand where you’re coming from. But if you were stubborn, then Jungkook was competitive - he wouldn't stop until you thought he was right.

“Why the fuck did he text you.”

You want to scream. You want to smash his glass against the floor and scream fucking murder. But instead you find your body tensing and you face heating up with the need to cry. He’s getting in your head and you hate it, because he’s never like this. He’s easy. He’s such good company and probably your best friend but why is he making it so hard to like, let alone love him right now.

“Fuck it. Here,” you fish in your pocket, eyes still on his despite the feeling of them heating up and the wetness pooling. You unlock your phone and push it to his chest. “God knows, we were just trying to arrange something for your birthday without you finding out, but you and your fucking jealousy can’t take that, can they Kook?”

You have so much more to say. Your head is spinning with the need to empty your gut of all the words you want to throw at him. About how jealousy is certainly not a virtue in this case, about how you can’t bear that he doesn’t trust you despite all you’ve given up for him, about how damn unfair he is being right now. But you hit his shoulder with yours and are half walking half running to his bathroom before you can contemplate what you’re doing.

“Y/N, fuck,” and of course now he’s apologetic. Calling after you in a tone that screams innocence but to you, he is anything but that right now.

You close the door with haste and push your back against it even faster.

The worst part is you’re not even that angry anymore. The tears fall in sadness.��

“Baby,” his knock rattles the door but only gently in an attempt to be sensitive with you. He’s fucked up and he knows that, but there’s a combination of not wanting him to see you cry and the need to be away from him for a minute that has you still sitting by the door, not making any attempt to open it.

“Baby, I didn’t know- I wouldn’t have.”

“Jungkook can you give it a rest for one minute,” you sound pained. You feel it as well. Maybe you’re overreacting, you think, as you hear him sigh and mumble an ‘okay’ before his footsteps peter out into another room.

You cry more and continue to do so as you begin to run the bath, and then more tears flow when you watch yourself in the mirror as you tug at your stained cheeks with a cloth. Your tears are still wet on your cheeks when you lower yourself into the warm water and become absorbed in the feeling of it, melting away until you fall into the slumber of sleep. It’s the same slumber that doesn’t cause you to be startled when the door creaks open, your boyfriend pausing to take in your state before he strips himself down to join you.

You know he’s there when he gently sinks into the water behind you, but you make no attempt to move out of the way his knees encase you. His touch is apprehensive and careful, and you can practically hear the thoughts in his head move at a thousand miles an hour.

You know Jungkook. You know all too well that right now, he’s cut up inside, thinking of every way possible to take back time and to undo the stupid shit he was spouting earlier. He’s thinking about how fucked up he was to let jealousy do that to him, to get the better of his, and he’s thinking of every which way to make it right to you. You know, because you’re the same. We’re all in the wrong at some point, and everyone is more than the worst thing they’ve ever done.

So you grab at his hands that still hover in the air with unspoken uncertainty and you pull them to yourself, tight, and on your neck there is a desperate sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry,” his tone is so apologetic you almost start crying all over again, but exhaustion and the need to forgive are all too strong. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I-”

You know there are more words he wants to say, maybe to show you how bad he feels, maybe he’ll try and justify himself, but either way, you’re pushover ass forgave him before the argument even happened. You also simply like the boy too goddamn much to see him splutter in your neck because he’s scared he’ll lose you.

With your lips pressed to the back of his hands that you’ve encased in yours, you mutter, “Shhh, I know you are.”

The water sloshes in the distance somewhere as he pulls you tighter to him like you’re an anchor and if he lets you go he’ll be lost. Kisses are placed down your neck gently and you let your eyes flutter shut again because you can’t lie in that he is the most comforting place to you right now.

Silence falls but not uncomfortably, fingers brushing skin like its china and breathing soft as you both give into each others touch.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

Maybe you are too forgiving Your mother always told you you were - ‘people won’t be so kind to your patience one day Y/N.’ - that’s what she’d told you. And she’s probably right that one day you’ll come to find that you’ve been used and abused for all the ‘it's okay’s’ and ‘I forgive you’s’ you’d uttered. But you didn’t use forgiveness as an easy way out, you used it when it was deserved. And Jungkook’s jealousy, whilst fucking annoying, was a human instinct - possibly more of a male instinct than female, you think - but it’s a natural reaction all the same. Compromise instead of conclusion.

“You have to start trusting me, you know.”

“I know,” a hasty response, maybe because he actually has realised he needs to trust you or maybe he just doesn’t want to prolong discussion. You hope and believe the first,

“You can’t keep this jealousy thing up. Particularly not with Jimin, I don’t want to be the reason your shit is ruined, it’s too good.”

The two of them best friends from the womb. But boys apparently will be boys and think any dick that goes near their girlfriend is aiming for one place and one place only, whether 21 years into friendship or not.

“I know.” The repeat of words makes you think he’s not listening to you, but then he sighs. “It’s just- I can’t- Fuck! He drives me up the wall, says all kinds of shit behind your back and mine about how fit you are because he knows it grills me.” This is new. “And then he sends you texts when I didn’t even know you had each others number and you won’t tell me what they are. It just fucked with my head and when you end up picturing the worst it’s hard to get that picture out of your head.”

It made sense, and he was getting angry with himself by the way his tone spiked, so you diffuse the tension.

“Hmm but if you weren’t so jealous your birthday wouldn’t have been ruined,” you feel his head slump and then he laughs, and you laugh, and then he’s squeezing you and forcing your eyes to his.

“You make me mental that’s why,” you’re close but he makes no move to kiss you, “and I’m sorry that I got like that when I had no reason to do so. I’ll change that I promise,” he sounded sincere, looked sincere, and you’re a sucker for the way he’s naked and so close his breath hits your smile that you’re kissing him before you can feign trust.

-------------------------------------------------------------

“You know you almost got me in big shit the other day,” the bell rings above your head as you and Jimin leave the cold in favour of the warmth of the bar. Thursday nights didn’t call for many people, so you found a seat easily at a booth, casual wear on and smile dancing across that idiots face.

“Kook told me.” Of course he did, “As if he got his dick caught between his legs because I sent you a text. Like does he really think I’d shag you.”

You scoff, “Cheers for that.”

“You know what I mean. If I got the chance I’d fucking take it, but Kook’s my brother,” and to be fair you did know what he meant. In fact it was a miracle Jungkook had been all calm and breezy when you’d told him you were meeting Jimin for drinks - maybe it was this new thing he was trying called ‘play it cool and let her do her own thing’ - even so, you liked it.

You end up ordering beers, after all, it is only a Thursday so that means no hard spirits, but it’s also the afternoon so that means alcohol.

“I’m glad to hear you’re not gonna pounce Jim.” He laughs, you laugh, thank god, because ever since you and Jungkook had shouted about the texting and Jimin issue, you were scared you’d have to keep a distance from the boy to prevent awkwardness. “How you been anyways?”

“Is that another way of saying who’ve I fucked since we last spoke,” his eyebrows wiggle like he’s got something to be proud about.

“Jesus, you only do think with your dick don’t you?”

“Come onn, ask me who I took home the other night,” he’s leaning forward with a smile that you want to smother, but you humour him for the sake of conversation.

“Which unlucky bird shared your bed the other night then?” You say it with a downward tone to express your distaste for the way your conversation has headed. You also nod a thank you to the waiter who’d brought beers over, pint on either side of the table.

“Well, maybe you should ask your roommate.”

Beer must fly out of your nose, mouth and ears with the way you choke. Literally, you’re spluttering everywhere and he’s laughing and you’re sure it’s a sick joke, but his smile says otherwise.

“She’s fucking gay!” That’s all you come up with. You know your roommate like the back of your hand, or so you think, and every part of you is wracking every part of your brain right now for some conversation where she said she’d shag Jimin, or shag a guy in fact. Nope, nothing.

“I thought so too, clearly she didn’t.” You’re angry at him by the way you scoff and take another long sip of your beer but you don’t even know why. Maybe you’re angry at her, but that also kind of feels invalid.

“As if she didn’t tell me.” He just shrugs. “... nah what the fuck man!”

“Listen, talk to her about it. I’m pretty sure I was mad drunk, so was she, and she left before I woke up so…” The last bit sounds about right, Mia was never one for sticking around for morning cuddles, but it’s all just wrong and it’s stewing in your head like a bad memory.

You're still questioning your entire existence it seems like when the conversation moves onto why you’re really here, or as Jimin says it, “So if the fucker knows we’re doing something for his birthday now, does that mean we actually have to do it?”

God, he’s hard to talk to. You find yourself for half your conversations with Jimin either saying ‘fuck off’ or your scoffing. You do the latter now.

“We were doing something anyway, don’t act like you don’t care. But yeh, he knows, so why don’t we just fucking put in money for alcohol and bud and hit up the beach or something at Hobi’s. Simples.”

Jimin downs his pint - it’s a Thursday and you don’t know why - and then nods, “Yeh, sounds like I can fuck with that. But let’s tell Taehyung cos he’s rich and loves weed more than the next person.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Like hell was there booze and weed. Taehyung had done the most, with Namjoon, and there was enough for 200 people to get fucked 10 times over, which with the 70 people that were apparently already at the beach, seemed like a mass death wish.

Hoseok, poor Hoseok, was hosting. You’d asked and he’d accepted like the selfless man he is and also because he loves Jungkook like a mother loves her child. It wasn’t his uni place, but his parent's beach house on the part of the coast where the beach stretched 20 yards deep and the water felt like the arctic on your skin, but even so, the parties out there were sick.

You can just tell by the boyish grin on your boyfriends face he knows exactly the way this route takes you, the taxi driver, however, keeps giving you evils through the mirror probably because this journey is long and you’re not even on a real road at this point. But the vodka already in your system means you don’t care and you hold Jungkook’s hand in full-fledged excitement.

You swear you’re not corny.

He keeps his hand in yours even when you pay the driver, and tightens it further when everyone around the back of the cabin rings out in a chorus of ‘surprise’. He even holds your hand when he’s handed both a beer and a joint, somehow juggling them both in his free one.

Somewhere along the line between sharing conversations and drinking yourself silly, he whispers a ‘thank you’ in your ear, and presses a grateful kiss onto your lips.

The sun had been low for a while, with the expanded horizon offering the perfect view to watch it set.

Still not corny, you promise.

But the smoke flowing through your system and the light hum of alcohol to accompany it just doesn’t allow for you to leave his side. Even through conversation after conversation, ‘happy birthday’ handshakes that made him switch which hand he was holding you with just so he didn’t let go, and even when the boys attempted a birthday bumps, you were there, glued tight.

“Fuck it, I wanna skinny dip!” Oh Jimin, oh that poor poor boy and his utterly delusional brain.

“Mate, that’s the high talking, leave it out.” You’re glad your boyfriend speaks sense when intoxicated because Tae’s there behind him clapping his back, encouraging him.

“Jim, legit 5 degrees right now, your dick’ll fall off if you go anywhere close to the sea.” And Namjoon, also ever with the straight head. Ah, you say that, but when you turn to the geez he chucks the small end of a lit blunt in his mouth and then swallows it down with beer - I guess his head will be going sideways now, in T-minus 5 seconds.

“You guys are pussys, my dick’ll just shrivel a bit…”

“Fucking rancid, don’t wanna hear it.” Throwing your half empty beer can also seems to do the trick of shutting him up about his dick as he hangs his jaw that’s dripping with beer, warm from being half finished.

“Bitch.”

“Oi! None of that, Park.” Jungkook’s tone is serious but he’s smiling all the same, content in the setting he’s in, not despite of but because of the deluded conversation, the weird dynamic you guys all have, the way he’s just himself, and the fact you’re there too, with a vice grip on his hand.

It’s all breathy laughs and the occasional pressing of lips on your neck from where you’re sat on your boyfriend’s lap, as the conversation delves from somewhere between Jimin’s sex life (surprise surprise) to what Hoseok would look like on steroids - the mutual group decision, so, so, wrong.

“Baby, I wanna get going.”

“Hm?” You were caught in laughter and didn’t think you heard him right, so you turn in his lap to throw an arm around his shoulder, all eyes and ears for your man.

“I kind of wanna get going home.”

You’re surprised, looking through the glaze in his eyes to see if he’s too stoned or not having a good time, but you just see him content gaze, boring adoration into yours. Leaving now would also make you the first to leave, and it was his party.

“You wanna go like right now, right now?”

“Mmm,” and there’s something you can't pinpoint in his expression, apprehension maybe.

“Okay, should I be worried? You’re good right?”

And his head drops to make you think ‘shit’, but then he’s laughing, shoulders shaking under your tense arms before he grabs at your face and places a kiss on either cheek. The blush creeps up on you before you can hide your face in his shoulder.

“I’m fine, so good.” It’s almost a shout of a confession as he throws his head back to demonstrate the emotion behind the words, but the way his smile lifts to his eyes tells you all you need to know. You’re still not quite getting why the happy boy you’re perching on wants to ditch his own surprise party, but each to their own, you think.

“Okay? You’re sure you don’t want to stay?”

Affirming you’re correct with a head shake, he leans in once again, squeezing at your sides ungraciously tight before smashing his lips to yours in a rough, open mouthed kiss that is neither something you were ready for or something you’re about to do with Jimin and Namjoon next to you.

So, you’re both laughing, him attempting to plaster his lips to your face and you swatting as his arm that fixes you in place to him.

“Kook fu- baby,” you begin to scramble away and he lets you, laughing out at the way you flatten your hair and fumble at you jeans as a means to compose yourself, “Time and a place, you dick.”

Stares and smiles are all you give each other as the ambient sounds of others continue around you. It’s like that with him - the world keeps buzzing around you but you’re not in that world, you’re somewhere too deep in his.

Please believe me, you’re not cringy!

“Come back,” hand out, legs spread wide to make room for you and you cannot help the way your feet appease his every word.

You’re eyes down on him, and his up at you, blown full with love, lust and everything in between and you settle in the warmth of his proximity and in the heat of his gaze.

“I love you.”

So you kiss him, because, “I love you too Kook.”

“Now order that fucking taxi, I wanted to go all of two hours ago.” And there he is, earning himself another smack to the arm.

“You bastard, you’re lucky I’m whipped.”

“Yeh you fucking are Y/N!” Jimin can suck a dick, the wanker. Throwing a final middle finger up to the offending boy and holding the other hand out for your boyfriend, you get onto the route home.

Silence is not always a bad thing. You’d told yourself that the whole way home. You especially knew how car journeys when inconceivably high and drunk could make the head spin and the voice mute, but neither of you were inconceivably high or drunk. His hand was still there on yours from beach to taxi, taxi to apartment, apartment to bedroom, but the smile was gone.

“Baby, what’s wrong, talk to me.”

“Mmm?” Playing it off, yet he still won’t look at you - the boy never could do confrontation or telling you what he wants.

He’s across the room, carrying the tea he’d made you to your side of the bed when you told him you’d felt a headache coming on. And you’re there just watching, the moping, the shrug and the way he now stops as you reach out your hand to tug at his shirt.

“Oi, look at me.” Eventually, and what looks like with effort, he does. “You gonna talk to me now, or what?” And you begin to worry at the way his gaze digs into your face, eyes pouring emotion that is scattered in so many different directions you can’t keep up. Is he sad? Nervous? Why would he be nervous?

“I love you.” There’s more to be said just in the way those three words come out, and it scares you.

“Okayy…”

“Like I really love you. So much sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing with you.”

“Koo-” He grabs at your neck and finally takes control of his voice, no longer apprehensive and filled with mixed signals, but so affirmative that it takes every word from your mouth.

“You’ve waited for me Y/N. So fucking long. I’ve been shit to you as well recently. I just can’t fathom that you’re here and you’re mine and it fucking scares me, you have to get that.” Eyes well on both his and your side, as words unspoken, are finally spilt. Maybe it’s the occasion or the alcohol but you don’t care. “Everything about you is everything I ever want and what happens if I fuck it up and lose it. I can’t lose you.”

“I can’t lose you.” It’s a mantra spoken by him on so many occasions, like if he says it, it’ll never happen.

“And what if I feel the same, Kook.” Forehead to forehead now and so deep into the caverns of his eyes, you’d give him your whole soul if he asked.

“You do?.. Feel the same?” You’re sure he knows you do. You’re sure he hasn’t been deaf to the thousands of ‘I love you’s’ and wholehearted confessions made by you. But he’s fragile to the extent that he needs to hear it. Needs to hear you say that you’re willing to lose everything here.

In a passing breath you whisper your confession, “yes,” and he squeezes at the hairs at the back of your neck that stand on end with every goosebump in your body.

The tears fall just as he puts his lips to yours and oxygen becomes gold dust with the way you’re so breath taken. But it’s the happy kind of breath taken, that feeling right before christmas as a kid when you know everything’s waiting for you on the other side of sleep, that feeling where the sinking dries up in your stomach and every fibre of you body buzzes uncontrollably, the kind of breath taken where you smile and laugh in full-fledged giddiness.

Pulling away, you do just that, laugh against his mouth, smile without thought, and despite the tears that drip onto your lips you keep kissing at him, peck after peck because he’s laughing and crying with you.

Fuck, this was the moment you were converted to cringe. You didn’t give two shits about it either.

“I thought you were about to fucking break up with me, you absolute knob!” He thumb scoops up the tears as he laughs at you, sniffling to himself in the emotion of the moment that you two were still somewhere swept up in.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe.”

Before the last tear is swept away at the motion of his thumb on your cheek, Kook ducks down and sweeps you up, over his shoulder and then with a not so forgiving thump to your back, you hit the bed - looks like he forgot his bed was made of fucking rocks, great for sex though, no squeak. And suddenly it dawns on you as hard as you just hit that mattress. That look in his eyes, now, earlier at the beach, the entire strung out fucking monologue he just gave you. All in the name of sex.

“Can we- you want to- do it.”

Fuck, it’s actually happening.

You suppress the butterflies with a laugh that surfaces from the way he stutters.

“Well, what the fuck dyou want me to say. We’ve waited 5 months and you want me to just say, ‘oi Y/N, let me fuck you’.”

But the laughing doesn’t seize.

“I’m sure fucking not saying I want to make love to you, because imagine that gettin relayed to the boys. Instantly my dick goes from a 7 on hard to a 5.”

“Aw babe, give yourself credit, you’re at least a 5 and a half.”

“Bitch.”

And with that he presses his full weight into you, smiling into the kiss that sucks deep into your lips, harsh but tender in all the right places. It turns you on the way he goes slow with you, maps outlines on your skin with his touches, and it makes you even hornier when his boner slowly grows into the meat of your thigh.

It’s a moan in response to him biting your lip that has him off you and flipping the position so you straddle him. But tight jeans don’t accommodate for being on top, the fucking inconvenient bitch, so it’s with the slow teasing pace, that he seems to be going for, that you take as the jeans come off.

“Fuck,” is whispered somewhere between you purchasing yourself right on his crotch and the way you raise you crop top over naked breasts.

This is not uncharted territory. The two of you aren’t nuns who have abstained from everything and anything in your relationship. No, you’re far from holy. But the way your boyfriend gapes, eyes blown and breathing sharp, he’s like a virgin on steroids.

When you lean into his body, claiming his lips once again you notice the shaking, the way his body uncontrollable shivers underneath you despite the perspiration that soaks through his shirt.

“Baby, you’re shaking,” you whisper into his mouth, and he simply nods a frantic ‘yes’ against you. “Kook, calm down, relax, baby,” and after grasping gently at his chin to pry his lips off yours, you find his gaze, eyes blown in lust and fear.

“Okay? I’m all yours,” you take his hand and lead it to your breast, then ushering it towards the steady beat of your heart, felt beneath trembling fingertips. “All yours.”

Running your hands over the tension in his biceps, you attempt to put him at ease with the roll of your hips. His bulge hadn’t gone unnoticed for a second and it was perfectly place with the tip resting on your clit, that you could probably both go to town like that - who said romance was dead!

“Fuck Y/N.”

“There you go,” you push him on, sucking into the rift between his neck and his shoulders and strong arms now scoop over and round to your ass. The squeeze is convincing, hard enough that you don’t fight back the moan and hard enough that your hips move that little bit harsher.

Breaths are heavy in your ear as you find yourself slipping deeper into the pleasure of the moment, but you know he’ll never take the initiative and make the first move.

“You’re so hard Kook.”

A groan in all he responds as you hit that spot just on his tip that he loves so much.

“I want you so bad.”

“Fuck, me too,” and desperation for more than the slow grind you opted for overcomes him. Lips latch onto yours in a harsh display as he flips you once again.

You can’t help but smirk to yourself, pure filthy excitement taking over the fibres of your body as he stares down at you now, hungry and horny.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this so bad for so long Y/N you have no idea.”

“Off,” and he gets the message with how his shirt is off and somewhere across the room without his dick leaving its place nestled in your crotch.

“I’ve been dying to have you, all of you.” His teeth are clawing at the skin of your neck as he pants out his dirty confession to the rhythm of his hips.

“You’ve been dying to fuck me, Kook?” It’s a teasing tone, but there’s no hiding the breathiness behind your voice.

“Fuck yeh.”

“Then go ahead and fuck me.”

When his gaze meets yours, his eyes are wide and disbelieving. But you’re more focused on the stain of his lips from sunken teeth and the way his hair sticks to his face from sweat. You also haven’t failed to miss the bare, toned torso pressed neatly onto your chest - abs to die for and v lines that leave the eyes wandering an unholy amount of southward.

“You want me to go in raw?” You feign laughter at how giddy he looks at the prospect.

“Birth controls a saint innit.”

“Fuck, I’m scared I’ll come in two seconds.” Great turn on. You think, you don’t say.

His trousers are off fast but when it comes to your panties, he’s calculated in the way he lowers himself to eyes level with your core, breathing haphazardly in his lust induced state into the material that he proceeds to run down the length of your leg and off at your feet.

Eyes trail up your body as he crawls his way back to your now exposed core, “Jesus, you’re so sexy.”

“Jungkook! What would God say if he heard you talk about his son that way!”

His head literally drops and he groans, as if the turn off button hadn’t already been switched when he told you he’d blow his load as soon as dick met pussy.

“I literally have no words Y/N.”

“Well, you better put that mouth to better use then baby.”

“Bitch.”

But his tongue is darted out and into your folds, no matter the reluctance, and he soon finds that same taste, bitter and sweet all at once that draws him in every fucking time.

“Fuck Kook.” The reaction is instant, spine arched away from the mattress as his tongue sets to work inside you, darting in and out so fast that your hips couldn’t keep up if they tried. It’s when he flattens it against your clit and the hand once pinning down a thigh pushes two fingers in so fucking deep that the moans spill.

“Shit that’s tight,” he mutters to himself more than anyone as his delving fingers reach that spot that has you stringing his name and curses into an aimless sentence. And the scene below you is even hotter than the feeling at your core, Jungkook, nestled between your legs with lips to clit, hand to pussy, and hips rutting desperately into the mattress. He’s a whole fucking view and it has you keening with your hands rooted in his hair that are telling him wordlessly not to let up.

When his eyes meet yours, you knows its game over, smirk overtaking his features as his fingers piston and fuck you open, thumb taking over the role his lips had on your clit just so he gets to watch you fall apart under him.

“That’s it baby, cum for me.”

“Holy fuc- shitt. Jungkook.” And your moans are the hottest things he’s ever heard as you tumble into a hell of a fucking orgasm. Shocks ripple through your body with the rate of his fingers and everything pulses as you cum, and keep fucking cumming.

Kook can barely help the way his cock seeks better friction against the mattress because of the bliss written on your face. And he almost forgets to let up on the frantic way his fingers still fuck you because your glistening chest lifting up and down in the light has his focus completely elsewhere.

“Kook, I can’t.”

“Sorry baby,” he lets up with one final kiss to your clit, the jolt of pain and pleasure causing you to whine briefly. His cock twitches at the sound.

“Y/N I’m so hard, please.”

You drag him up with the hand still woven deep in his locks so he’s eye level, and dick level with the place he wants it most. Wordlessly and still driven by the buzz from your orgasm, your hand guides him into you and fuck if the moan against your mouth isn’t the best thing you’ve ever heard.

“Holy fuck.” Nestling his head into the crook of your neck with deep breaths to accompany it, you can tell he’s trying to hold back the feeling of his balls tightening and ignore the way you still pulse from your orgasm. It’s tight and it’s so fucking bare because he’s never gone raw before. Fuck, neither of you have had sex in six months so the feeling might just make you both combust on the spot.

“Slowly baby, it’s been a while.” You’d known he’d reach your stomach just from the way he fucked your throat every other day - his girth is nothing far from impressive and it’s stretching you without even moving.

Light kisses press their way from neck to jaw to mouth as he pulls out to the hilt and then back in, slowly, tantalising slowly so that you both moan into the other's mouths, breathy and completely consumed by the feeling of each other.

“Fuck I’m never gonna get enough of this now.”

“Mmm,” you really hoped he wouldn’t.

“God I love you so much, your pussy is actual heaven.” And you hate to say the way the praise goes straight to your core, but your boyfriend can most certainly tell from the clench you hold his dick in. “Fuckkk, so good.”

It’s slow and it’s deep and he’s hitting your g-spot and clit with every roll of his hips. Throughout the murmurs of affection and sex filled admissions, you grasp at each other's skin, his hands pulling your hair so your mouth meets his and your hands across the muscles in his back that flex under your fingers with each thrust.

It’s when he drags one hand to your throat and grips at it to balance his sped-up movements that you’re finding yourself teetering towards the edge again, spilling words never spoken and sounds never heard but he’s saving every one of them to memory.

“Faster baby please,” and he obliges instantly as he dives into you hard and fast, “babyy oh shit.”

“Y/N you’re clenching so fucking hard right now,” but he’s left you breathless to the point of no reply.

Several punishing slams that also attack your clit have eyes rolling and you biting down into his shoulder, suppressing the scream that surfaced without your consent.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He keeps pounding away, forcing you deeper and deeper into a spiral of pleasure, until his lips are on yours and he ruts a final few times, grunting and moaning into your mouth. “So good, so good,” and he repeats this until he’s still above you and finally the hand wound into your neck lessens it’s pressure so the throb in your body and up to your head dies into a tingle.

It’s the most content and blissful silence, post orgasm, wrapped in the warm and wet body of your boyfriend. That is until he begins mumbling inconceivable words into the shoulder he decided to rest on.

“What baby?”

“I said,” lifting himself to eye level, and he’s a fucking sight for sore eyes. “Worth the fucking wait.”

And with a tired, fucked out smile, light kiss to his lips, you can most certainly agree.

Worth the fucking wait.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #BTS jungkook #bts #bts smut #bts one shot #jungkook one shot #jungkook smut #BTS au #jeon jungguk #jungkook drabble #bts jeongkook #jungkook things

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hopesangelsprite · 4 years ago

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Denny’s | JJK

Pairing: Waiter!Jungkook x Reader

Summary: (Y/N)’s bestie takes her for a birthday breakfast with a surprise!

If looks could kill, my bestie would be six feet under, and I would be behind bars. At the literal ass crack of dawn, this big fore headed thot had called to wish me a happy 18th birthday. The first thing on her “Bad Bitch Birthday Itinerary” was getting up at 6:00 am on the dot to get ready for breakfast at Denny’s two hours later. Usually, I would’ve declined immediately, but I had nothing else planned anyway. Besides, I got a distinct feeling that something amazing was going to happen today.

So, I pulled myself out of my warm bed, showered, and put on the outfit she’d bought me yesterday. I spent a good thirty minutes detangling and slicking back my 4a curls. Once I’d finished, she came and picked me up before hauling ass to Denny’s where my so-called ‘surprise’ awaited me.

Now I’m contemplating stabbing her with a plastic spoon as she rereads the menu for the fourth time. “Bitch, what are you doing? I know you’re stalling. Have you forgotten that we were born in the same hospital room?!”, I inquire while my glare deepens. She glances up briefly to flick her tongue out at me like a child. My eyes widen in disbelief before I growl out, “Candie Lashay Moore if you don’t start talking, I’m gonna stab you with a spoon!”. Candie looks up at me unfazed. “How the fuck you gon’ stab me with a spoon? A plastic one at that. Make it make sense, honey.”, she says before glancing back and quickly turning back around.

“Act natural. Be normal, hoe, don’t mess this up!”, she whispers threateningly causing my confusion to deepen. Suddenly, a tall shadow is cast over our table. “Welcome to Denny’s, ladies! I’m Jeon Jungkook, and I’ll be your server today! What can I get for you?”, a smooth and cheery male voice quips causing me to look up. Standing over our table is quite possibly the most handsome male I’ve ever laid eyes on.

He’s tall and muscular in build with a thin waist and thick thighs. His skin is lightly tanned, clear, and brighter than my future. His dark hair is parted revealing his forehead and a slit eyebrow. His doe eyes hold mischief, and his uneven but soft-looking lips are pulled into a slight smirk.

“Hi! We’ll be having two pancake breakfasts, please! Right, (Y/N)?”, Candie asks causing me to look away and nod. “Ok! Would you like them with sausage or bacon?”, he inquires whilst whipping out a small notebook to take our order. He sits it down on the table before leaning down and jotting down words. The sudden closeness brings a whiff of his cologne right into my face. It’s a mix of soft vanilla and masculine aftershave. “Sausage for both of them, right?”, Candie says bringing the servers attention to me. Upon the meeting of our eyes, he raises an eyebrow questioningly with a tilt of his head. I nod with wide eyes before glaring at Candie when he ducks his head down to write more.

“Alright! How do you like your eggs?”, he asks with a wider smirk at his seemingly accidental innuendo. “I’d like mine sunny side up, please! How ‘bout you, bestie?”, my soon to be dead best friend asks whilst feigning innocence. I shrug feeling a little surge of confidence. “I dunno. How do you like your eggs, Jungkook?”, I inquire with an innocent smile. He chuckles before his tongue flicks out across his lips. “Fertilized, but I’m not sure you’d want that. We’ve only just met, doll.”, he replies with a teasing lilt. The tiny amount of confidence I had vanished into thin air at his remark.

I clear my throat before squeaking out, “Scrambled will do just fine.”. He nods before jotting down the order and standing tall again. “I’ll be right out with your order in five minutes! Don’t miss me too much!”, he says with a wink in my direction before leaving in the direction of the kitchen.

*TIME SKIP TO AFTER BREAKFAST*

I sigh in contentment as I sip the last of my Sprite. The meal that I had just feasted on was probably the best one I’d have in a while. I look across from me to see Candie looking like the happy fat ass she is. “That shit was bussin’! We gotta come over here more.”, she says and begins rummaging through her Gucci bag. I remember the day she came overexcited and shouting about some hot blonde who’d bought it for her. Four weeks later she introduced me to Kim Taehyung, her brand-new boyfriend who happened to be the son of a wealthy fashion designer. I’d thought he’d be a snob, but he turned out to be one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.

“Does Tae know you’re out here tryna hook me up with a stranger? He seemed set on introducing me to that boxer friend of his.”, I ask as I lean forward. Candie looks up, gives me a devious smirk, and continues to go through her bag until she pulls out the black card her boyfriend had given her. As if on cue, our hot waiter comes back. “How were your meals, ladies? I hope it was to your satisfaction!”, he says in that oh-so-smooth voice of his. Candie nods and slides him her card and the checkbook. He shakes his head lightly disrupting his dark curls. “No need! This one’s on me. I paid already, so you can’t say no.”, he informs with a cheeky smirk. “How can we repay you? You’ve been so nice to us!”, Candie inquires after wiggling her eyebrows at me.

“Hmmm… there’s not anything I want. Except for your pretty friends’ number.”, he says as his smirk grows. My heart thunders in my chest at his words. “Oh, so he tryna catch these feelings!”, I think as I watch Candie write my number on his notepad. “There we are! Thanks for the meal!”, Candie says as she finishes writing. “No problem! I’ll call you later on, doll. Ok?”, Jungkook asks causing me to nod in response. He smirks, winks for the umpteenth time, and walks away in the direction of another table. Instead of greeting them with cheery smiles, he gives a blank and very dry “Hello, Welcome to Denny’s.”.

I watch in awe causing Candie to roll her eyes and pull me out of my seat. “Come on, bitch! We got more stuff to do today.”, she says pulling me away after I’ve collected my things. Once we’re outside, a very familiar Mercedes Benz pulls into the parking space in front of us. The cars’ window rolls down to reveal a very cheery and familiar blonde. “Did it work, baby?”, Taehyung asks with hope in his voice. Candie nods excitedly before running over to kiss her boyfriend.

“Umm… what the hell is going on?”, I ask in utter confusion. Taehyung grins widely just as Candie had earlier. “Remember that boxer I told you I was going to set you up with. His name is Jeon Jungkook a.k.a that hot waiter that you just got hooked up with!”, he says. Suddenly, a strong arm comes to rest across my shoulder and a deep, familiar voice meets my ears.

“Change of plans, doll. My shift just ended, and you and I are gonna have some fun!”.

(A/N):

HI, y’all! Sorry it took me so long to add another story! This one was kinda random tbh. I got it from a pick up line abt fertilized eggs or sum...

Anyway! I hope u enjoyed this. Please like, share, and comment your thoughts!

#*birthday #bts #jungkook #kim taehyung #ambw #bts ambw

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sayingthesamethings · 5 years ago

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Magic Shop (Part 6)

Pairing: Poly!BTS x Witch!Fem!Reader

Summary: Underneath the concrete and pavement, between the towering buildings, Seoul is thrumming with magic. Too much magic. It’s become a hot spot for magical beings seeking to feed off of such intense energy. BTS is unaware of such dangers until they come across a witch trying to manage the mischief of other magical creatures while creating her own trouble.

Warnings: Traits of a panic attack

Author’s Note: I would like to apologize to some readers ahead of time. It is heavily implied/stated that the reader was born in America. I’m sorry international readers! I really like giving my readers free reign over their origins and nationality, but this should be the only predetermined factor of the character throughout the story. Other than that, enjoy!

The sound of wood splintering combined with embers crackling in the air consumed what would otherwise be considered silence. Her nostrils burned at the smell of smoke blanketing the sky.

Is something burning? Why is it so hot?

Sweat drops evaporated as quickly as they fell. Intense heat licked at flushed, sweltering cheeks.

It was almost as if--

(Name) startled awake with a gasp. Her legs kicked at the thick comforter trapping them, and her arms flailed to the side. Her eyes darted around the darkness of her apartment bedroom wildly.

Choked cries crept up (Name)’s throat, but her windpipe constricted painfully and crushed her distress. She could barely relax enough to swallow minimal amounts of air.

The room was too warm. The sheets were suffocating her.

Help.

In an instant, her ferret familiar was curled up around her head, resting on the pillow. A sudden wave of cool calm washed over her whole body in an instant. Her flailing limbs slowly fell to the mattress, and her chest rose and fell with deep, shaky breaths.

(Name) closed her eyes for a few breaths and slowly let them flutter back open.

(Name) hadn’t had that dream in years. Her thoughts drifted to the dragon she dealt with a few days ago. How his flames had her surrounded and suffocated her until—

“I’m home,” (Name) said to herself as she let her eyes drift from one corner of the ceiling to the other. “I’m home.”

A small chuff from above her head startled her further into reality. Jaewon’s narrow face popped into her field of view. (Name) ran a hand down her face and caught the cute tilt of the ferret’s head through the gaps of her fingers.

“I’m alright now,” (Name) said and took a deep breath. She propped herself up into a sitting position. Jaewon leapt up to curl himself around her shoulders just as she tossed her legs over the side of the bed to plant her bare feet on the cool wood of her floor.

(Name) took a minute to rub at her eyes before reluctantly getting to her feet. She dragged her feet across the apartment as she made her way to her small kitchen attached to the living area. Despite her grogginess, (Name) instinctively weaved through the plethora of plants and flowers alike decorating the small kitchen space from planters hanging from the ceiling and resting on the counter.

The witch felt her eyes slipping shut as swiped around her collection of mason jars before grazing a familiar tin lid. She failed to take note of the lightness of the jar and dragged it across the counter lazily.

It wasn’t until she twisted the jar open that she noticed the lack of powder inside.

(Name) frowned. She didn’t remember having so little of the mixture yesterday. Then again, the witch couldn’t remember much from the past few days.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, (Name) deeply sighed. Jaewon gently nudged his head against her cheek. (Name) lazily scratched her familiar’s head.

The witch would have enough for the day, but she would have to make more for the next month. Normally, she would have no problem going into the shop to gather more ingredients, but she was hoping to avoid going out in general after her nightmare.

Maybe I can get Sumi to drop them off for me. (Name) pondered as she dumped the remaining black powder into one of her many coffee mugs. Jaewon slipped off of her body and onto the counter to make his owner’s drink as said witch slipped back into her bedroom to retrieve her phone from her nightstand.

Turning on the nearly outdated flip phone, (Name)’s eyes caught the date on the small display.

“And she’s off for the rest of the week,” (Name) groaned to herself. She didn’t know why she even tried her luck anymore. She flipped her phone shut and took it with her back to the kitchen. On the counter, Jaewon was waiting beside her steaming mug. “Thanks,” (Name) murmured as she wrapped her bare fingers around the ceramic handle. Jaewon chirped before digging around the kitchen for a snack.

Leaving the ferret to his own devices, (Name) wandered into the living room to lazily drape herself on the worn out couch against the wall. The (H/C)-haired witch waved her hand at her spellbook resting on the coffee table, and it floated over to her before fluttering open.

(Name)’s eyes danced across the map, taking note of each red ‘X’ that decorated the page. She downed half of her drink by time Jaewon curled up beside her.

“We still don’t have enough pieces,” (Name) observed as she reached over to stroke the fur on Jaewon’s back. The familiar let out a low rumble. (Name) hummed, “I’d say at least four more.” A deep sigh broke the stillness of the living room.

(Name) didn’t really know where else to check for a magic well. She and Jaewon had been wandering the city for weeks now, and had only come up with one other location. That was when she had stumbled upon that goblin outside the convenience store.

It was also when (Name) had run into the two idols. Taehyung and Namjoon.

The witch couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the men she had been running into recently. Even though their interactions had been brief, they stuck on her mind more than she’d like to admit. They were each just so charming and peculiar in their own ways.

“They’re all so cute, aren’t they?” (Name) prattled as she finished off the rest of her concoction. She allowed her mug to float over onto the coffee table. “All so blissfully unaware and reckless. I mean, did you see him, Jaewon?” The ferret jumped in alarm at the way (Name) bounced in her seat. “ He jumped in front of a goblin! How dumb,” she chuckled.

(Name) rose from the couch and stretched her arms above her head. She moaned at the tension in her shoulders and sighed in relief as she let her arms fall to her sides.

The witch moved back into her bedroom to change out of her pajamas. Once changed, she began to decorate her hands with rings after rings. From emeralds to pearls, jewels littered her fingers, all embedded in bands of silver. Next were her pendants, much fewer than her rings but still plenty to adorn.

Last on was a hefty chunk of obsidian just bigger than the pad of her thumb cradled in a thin swirl of silver.

(Name) let the rock rest in her palm. She relished the warmth that radiated from it with an odd sense of amusement. She eyed the streaks of red that flared within the gem occasionally.

Jaewon nudged his head against (Name)’s jaw and snapped the woman out of her amused trance. She let the obsidian fall against her stomach and rubbed her cheek against the ferret’s head.

(Name) slipped on her sneakers at the door. She draped her bag over her shoulder and summoned her spellbook from the coffee table. It floated into her bag, and she slipped out of her apartment.

Locking the door behind her, (Name) pulled her cardigan closer to her body as a cool breeze rushed past. Jaewon pressed himself closer to (Name)’s neck for warmth. The pair had always been so sensitive to the cold.

I should ask Sonya about teaching me how to write portal runes. (Name) grumbled nonsense and ramblings under her breath as she brushed past civilians rushing past.

The walk from her apartment to the coffee shop wasn’t longer than twenty minutes, but she hated having to travel so out in the open. With everything that’s been happening within the past few weeks, she couldn’t really be bothered to be interrupted anymore by other magical beings. She still had to deal with the goblins lurking around the convenience store, but that was a task for another time. At the moment, she had to focus on just getting to the shop in one piece and gather what she needed.

Jaewon suddenly slipped beneath (Name)’s cardigan and clung to her waist. (Name) was going to peek under the fabric to look at the ferret in confusion, but she was interrupted mid thought.

“(Name)-ssi?” a familiar, masculine voice called out to her. (Name)’s head perked up at the sound of her name.

Namjoon waved at the witch from further up the sidewalk. Taehyung was with him again, also waving at (Name) enthusiastically. Beside the two familiar faces were two black-haired men, politely nodding her way.

“Oh, Namjoon,” (Name) acknowledged as she joined them off to the side. She openly eyed the idols as she greeted dumbly, “Hi.” The two men who hadn’t greeted her gave a short bow. At the exclusion of any honorific after Namjoon’s name, the men shifted uneasily and shared a weird glance, but they all remained quiet about it.

“Hello, my name is Kim Seokjin,” the taller of the two greeted and nudged the other. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

(Name) stiffly returned the bow and replied, “Nice to meet you, Seokjin. Jungkook.” The (H/C)-haired witch couldn’t help but eye the youngest in contempt. Before she even realized it, (Name) commented to Namjoon, “Do you idols not value your safety or something? Because this pattern’s starting to get old.”

Namjoon chuckled guiltily while Taehyung pouted. Jin and Jungkook shuffled awkwardly off to the side.

“I promise, the staff knows where we are this time. They’re actually just further up the street,” Namjoon explained.

Taehyung chimed, “They said we could go to your coffee shop!” He bounced on his heels. “We wanted more of those sweets Jiminie brought back the other day.” (Name) giggled at Taehyung’s excitement.

“Well what are you all doing over here, then?” (Name) asked with a glance around. Bystanders were eyeing the group of five but quickly broke eye contact to continue passing by. “The store isn’t this way,” she pointed out.

Namjoon rubbed at the tip of his nose, and his eyes darted around to avoid Jin’s burning gaze. Taehyung laughed along with Jungkook at their hyungs’ antics, and the youngest clapped his hands in amusement. (Name) laughed heartily with the two youngest idols.

“Is that so?” Jin inquired in mock disbelief.

Namjoon waved a hand and pleaded, “Wait, wait, Jin-hyung. I could’ve sworn it was this way!” Jin planted his fists on his hips.

“Oh? Who told you that?” Jin ridiculed with absurdity dripping from every word. Namjoon’s eyes wandered to the side as he visibly tried to fib his way out of his situation.

Deciding to help the poor leader out, (Name) cut in, “I was actually on my way to the shop. If you’d like, I can take you there.”

Taehyung cheered in agreement and linked arms with Jungkook. (Name) grinned at the two and motioned with a wave for the rest to follow. Jin gave Namjoon a seething glance but reluctantly allowed the blonde to walk beside him after the others.

As Namjoon had stated, the staff was only a short ways up the road. The idols greeted them with a polite bow and warm smiles, and (Name) awkwardly followed suit. They exchanged a few words about where they were heading, and the staff sent them off with the promise of joining them later.

“How have you been, noona?” Taehyung asked as he playfully jostled Jungkook. (Name) jokingly clicked her tongue.

“Noona this, noona that! You boys are starting to make me feel old!” (Name) teased. Jin and Namjoon giggled to themselves, but they were far from discreet.

Taehyung protested, “But Jimin-ah called you noona!” (Name) shrugged.

“It’s cute when Jimin says it.” (Name) nearly cackled when Taehyung whined. Jungkook playfully elbowed Taehyung in the side.

“Jimin-ssi’s everyone’s favorite,” Jungkook taunted and earned a dirty look from Taehyung. The maknae ignored the scoldings from the two hyungs behind him and cutely tilted his head at (Name). “So noona owns a coffee shop?”

(Name) couldn’t help the way her jaw clenched at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. She just couldn’t shake the irritation that lingered from their first encounter.

Taking a deep breath, the shop owner answered, “Yes. I’m a co owner.” The group of men didn’t seem to catch on to her tense reply. Thankfully, they turned to one another to chat amongst themselves, giving (Name) a moment to calm herself.

A little less than ten minutes later, they had sped through the streets at the sight of small groups of young girls wandering about, the group of five arrived at the employee entrance of Sumi’s and (Name)’s coffee shop.

“It’s still normal business hours, so we’ll have to go through the back entrance for now,” (Name) explained as she took out her key from her bag. As she unlocked the door, she said, “There’s a small break room in the back you can all hang out in.”

(Name) cracked the door open and peeked inside. The coffee shop had its usual traffic in the morning. A line from the counter to the door with only one or two tables not filled with students or office workers.

The part time employees were too preoccupied to greet the owner, but the witch didn’t mind. (Name) ushered the group of men into the building and guided them into the small break room the store had behind her personal room.

There were just enough chairs for each of them, and they all gathered around the single table in the middle of the room.

“Make yourselves at home. I can have your drinks started and bring in some snacks if you’d like. Is there anything you prefer?” (Name) eagerly listened to the men’s eager requests for hot drinks and pastries. “Alright, I’ll be back in a sec.” She slipped out the back room and glanced around before slipping into the back room.

As (Name) gently shut the door, Jaewon slipped out from his hiding spot under the witch’s cardigan and onto her shoulders. (Name) picked up the ferret from off her shoulder and placed him down on the counter.

“How about you stay here for now, Jaewon?” (Name) offered as she began harvesting some leaves and small flowers from her overflowing planters. She could feel Jaewon disagree with her but ignored the familiar. “I don’t want to explain to them why I have a rat running around my coffee shop.”

Jaewon almost grunted as he reluctantly laid on his usual sun spot. (Name) eyed him cautiously and only when she was sure the ferret was going to stay put did she collect the herbs she originally needed before packing them away in her bag.

(Name) left her bag and Jaewon in her private room and caught one of her employees, who greeted her earnestly, on the way out.

The (H/C)-haired owner relayed to the employee the idols’ order before finishing, “Just leave it on the back counter and I’ll come pick it up.” The teen before (Name) nodded before rushing back to work.

(Name) side stepped other employees on her way to the pastry display. She nodded politely at the workers and piled on treat after treat on a plate. Some regulars greeted her as well, but she only spared them a few words alongside a farewell before escaping to the back room once again.

“I come bearing gifts,” (Name) announced playfully but frowned when the men suddenly stopped talking at the sight of the witch. Ignoring the slight pang in her chest, she tried playing off, “Is this a bad time?”

“No, no,” Namjoon hastily assured. He grinned, “We were just talking about you.”

Treading lightly, (Name) hummed, “All good things, I hope.” She placed the plate of pastries down on the table. Taehyung and Jungkook were quick to say their thanks with their mouths already stuffed with treats. (Name) giggled at their eagerness to scarf down bear claws and danishes alike.

“Of course,” Jin affirmed with a kind smile. (Name) let out a teasing, noncommittal hum and sat in the last vacant chair.

(Name) knew there was more to it than that. She could very easily sense it, especially from Jungkook and Taehyung.

Maybe I can slip a moondrop or two into their drinks to get them to talk. They seem like the easiest to coerce. (Name) mused as she watched all four idols begin munching on pastries. She allowed herself to break off a small piece of a bear claw and plop it in her mouth. But that would be too easy.

“Have you ever been to France, noona?” Taehyung asked as he swatted Jungkook’s wandering hands from his plate.

Slightly taken off guard by his seemingly random question, (Name) took a moment before replying, “No, I haven’t. Why do you ask?”

Taehyung hummed, “It’s just that these pastries remind me of the time we traveled to france while we were on tour.”

“Oh, I think Jimin mentioned that last time,” (Name) commented as she leaned against the table with her forearms crossed. “You boys must’ve traveled everywhere at this point,” she chimed as she picked at another pastry.

“Everywhere’s a strong word,” Namjoon retorted.

Jin nodded and added, “But we have been to a lot of different places. We might as well say we’ve been everywhere.”

(Name) hummed and said, “I bet you’ve seen some really gorgeous places.” Jungkook wiped the crumbs from his puffed cheeks, full of food.

“Have you traveled before, noona?” the maknae asked with an intense curiosity prevalent in his wide eyes. (Name) shook her head but seemed to rethink her answer.

“Well, I’m not originally from Korea,” (Name) explained, a collective sound of shock emitted from the four men. “But other than that, no, I haven’t traveled outside the country.”

“But you speak so well, noona,” Taehyung noted with a look of pure disbelief. (Name) was amused at the states of amazement and shock the idols were in, and she took her time to admire each one. Yet, there was a ugly feeling curling in the pit of her stomach as she took in their praises.

(Name) giggled and lied, “I had a very good teacher. Plus, I moved here when I was very young, so I’ve had a lot of time to practice.”

Unconsciously, the witch raised her hand to thumb at the cool stone, resting against the dip in the base of her throat as it hung from a thick, black ribbon choker.

“I never would have guessed you weren’t born here with how fluent you are,” Jin admitted as he cleaned up the table a little once all the pastries had been finished. Again, something gnawed at (Name).

“Well that’s a relief to hear,” (Name) managed to reply, hoping they would drop the subject. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go check on your drinks.

Without really waiting for their answers, (Name) left the break room and peeked over at the back counter. There, waiting, was a small tray with four steaming mugs. (Name) hastily thanked the employees as she went back to the break room with the tray.

(Name) set down each idol’s drink and set the tray off to the side. They each thanked her enthusiastically and took a moment to cool the surface of their drinks before taking a sip. (Name) was content with their content looks and continued to watch them sip at their drinks.

“Where did you live before you came to Korea, (Name)-ssi?” Namjoon asked as he set his cup back on its saucer. (Name) had hoped they would drop the subject.

“I was born in America and moved here when I was about seven,” (Name) answered truthfully, though at the mention of her birthplace, a bitter taste took over the lingering aftertaste of the sweet pastries they had shared.

Taehyung awed, “So young!” (Name) nodded and twisted the rings on her middle finger. The glint of silver caught Taehyung’s eye, and his hand immediately went to the pendant (Name) had gifted him as it hung around his neck. “I saw that you gave Jiminie, Suga-hyung, and Hobi-hyung gifts too, noona!”

(Name) was surprised to hear. She didn’t think the others would have noticed the jewelry, let alone wear them.

“Oh? Did they like them?” (Name) inquired, genuinely curious. Her heart faltered at the idea of the three not liking her jewelry. Perhaps she shouldn’t have listened to Jaewon.

Much to her relief, Taehyung nodded with a smile.

“Jimin and Hobi-hyung really liked theirs! They liked that we matched,” Taehyung answered. “Suga-hyung won’t admit it but I know he liked his,” he added with a small pout.

Amused, (Name) pressed, “Oh? What makes you so sure?” She leaned back in her seat with a playful grin. “He seems like a hard guy to please, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t like it,” she mockingly grieved. Jin laughed with a nod.

“You’re not entirely wrong,” the eldest said. He wrapped his hands, enveloped in his knit sweater, around his mug as he hummed, “Yoongi’s the type of guy to enjoy something that’s well done. He sees value in the things people genuinely care about and work hard on.”

Namjoon caught the way (Name) frowned as she processed Jin’s words. He chuckled at her perplexed expression.

“Meaning Yoongi saw the effort you put into making that ring,” Namjoon briefed.

A blush unexpectedly warmed (Name)’s cheeks. She found herself sputtering, not really knowing how to respond to such direct yet indirect praise.

“You have a lot of jewelry, noona,” Jungkook commented while openly staring at all of the silver and gems decorating her. He asked, “Do people stare at you a lot?”

“I guess. I probably don’t notice most of the time,” (Name) admitted as she absentmindedly clicked her rings against each other. She stared up at the ceiling and thought carefully. “I like jewelry too much to care about others’ opinions.”

Namjoon was quick to smile and replied, “Then you must understand how we feel about music.”

(Name) honestly didn’t think about that. She was so caught up in their conversations that she had momentarily let the fact that she was sitting with four superstar idols slip from her mind. Everything was just too much fun for her to dwell on the fact.

“Yeah,” the witch mumbled, not sure what else to say. Luckily, Taehyung picked up the conversation.

“Now we all have matching jewelry!” the vocal chirped. He earned a dirty look from both Jin and Jungkook.

Jin huffed, “Everyone but us!” Taehyung only giggled maliciously and continued to prod at the eldest and youngest.

“We’re the best of friends!” Taehyung sang as he laughed off the playful shoves he received from the others. (Name) smiled at the exchanges.

The witch had to admit that in all her years, she had never observed a group of distinct individuals interact so intimately with one another. Yes, (Name) could see that there was something more than just friendship between the seven men, but there was even another layer beyond that.

(Name) could see years and years of hardships woven between each and every one of them. A bond that went beyond normal bounds.

I want that.

(Name) had surprised herself with her own thought. She physically startled in her seat, but not enough for the others to question it.

What had she meant by that? She didn’t need any more friends. She had Sumi and the witches from the next town over who occasionally traveled through Seoul.

More importantly, she had Jaewon.

“Right, (Name)-noona?” (Name) snapped out of her trance and blinked owlishly at Taehyung. A quick glance around reminded her that she wasn’t alone.

Think, (Name). Think of something! (Name) swallowed the lump in her throat.

“What?” the female uttered dumbly.

Idiot.

Taehyung didn’t seem to take any offense and happily repeated, “If you gave Jin-hyung and Jungkook a piece of jewelry, then we’d all officially be friends!”

Seven binding spells was a lot. To have a leash on seven souls would tug her in too many directions all at once. (Name) was already pushing it by giving Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jimin their own links. But she couldn’t help but wonder.

Does this mean I can have what they have? It was tempting. To be a part of something so special and intricate. Is it that easy?

(Name) didn’t know what prompted her to agree and produce two necklaces from her bag. Jaewon had probably predicted (Name) would cave and gift the remaining two idols their own jewelry and hid them in her bag while she was preoccupied in the apartment.

Maybe it was her soft spot for Taehyung? Or perhaps it was the pressure of all four men’s gazes?

The rest of their time together passed with (Name) in a daze. She would passively interact with the idols when prompted but otherwise would stick to admiring them and watching their expressions change with each playful and loving interaction.

Namjoon, Jin, Taehyung, and Jungkook came and went just as swiftly as the other times. (Name) sent them off with a passive smile and a small plate of snacks. She bowed to the staff she had greeted earlier, and closed the back door once the whole group had shuffled into their company cars.

The (H/C)-haired witch stood alarmingly still in her personal back room. Jaewon wasn’t concerned though. He knew she was fine. In fact, the female was at her peak when she was silent.

Seven souls tied to her own.

(Name)’s lips split in a sadistic grin.

Tomorrow she would test if she had made a mistake or possibly the best decision ever.

#bts x reader #bts x female reader #poly bts #poly bts x reader #poly bts x fem reader #fem!reader #fem reader #fem!witch!reader #bts x witch!reader #poly!bts #poly!bts x reader #poly!bts x fem!reader

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perpetually-jungshook · 6 years ago

Text

RED || 03

Genre: humor, jimin x jungkook for now, angst, fluff, humor

Summary: Life is weird. Jungkook works as Jimin’s niche porn photographer and finds it difficult to remember that the he's only flirting with the camera. Namjoon despises the world of big business but works as a manager for an international corporate company and hates it (cruel irony, he says). Yoongi is just a typical IT guy who has a secret he’s never told anyone, which is totally typical. Hoseok and Seokjin work at a retirement home, from which they one day bring back some random volunteer with fiery red hair who may or may not change everything.

Warnings: language, crude humor, pining

Word Count: 8.3k

Links: Storyboard || 01 || Previous || Next

For the amount of guys that hit on Hoseok, it’s almost painfully ironic that he’s straight. Jimin suspects it has to do with his confidence and openness, or maybe there’s just something about the way he’s able to talk to complete strangers like they’ve been best friends for a decade. It’s perplexing on multiple levels.

Earlier that day, when Jimin had picked Hoseok up from the retirement home for a quick trip to their favorite cafe for tea and sandwiches, the (male) barista started flirting with him. Then some random hot guy who appeared to be writing either an essay or manuscript. Then the parking attendant. It’s unfair really. But maybe Jimin just needs to pause and reconsider. Not every laugh, wink, and scribbled phone number should be considered flirting. Right?

To give Hoseok credit, he’s not someone that shouts “no homo” every time he makes eye contact with another guy. People might think he’s closeted (and doing a poor job at hiding it) because he’s so unabashedly affectionate, openly holding hands with his friends and even exchanging cheek kisses. Jimin also would’ve thought he was at least bi, but Hoseok himself has said he’s straight on multiple occasions and Jimin is inclined to believe his friend’s word. Still, whatever appearances suggest and despite what people may think, Hoseok is undoubtedly into girls, is simply comfortable with his masculinity, and only has one small Jimin related secret.

Yes Hoseok is Straight, but sometimes a guy just needs to get his dick wet and Jimin definitely doesn’t mind helping.

Hoseok is three fingers deep when he giggles, “Yknow, you’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

Jimin’s face flushes, heels digging into the mattress at the slick stretch.

“Jealous? Says Who?” he asks, voice a little hoarse, but ultimately playful.

“You looked like you wanted to murder that barista.”

“You can’t prove anything,” Jimin attempts to retort, laughing, but the sound is cut short as Hoseok uses his thumb to press that one spot just below the base of Jimin’s dick, causing his stomach muscles to tense. “Besides, I’m not allowed to be jealous.”

Hoseok doesn’t belong to him and Jimin doesn’t think they’d be compatible in any type of romantic relationship. It’s just nice to appreciate his friend’s lean, tanned, toned body every now and then. Like, really nice.

The older boy snorts, obviously amused as he says, “Yes you are. And I totally encourage it because it’s cute.”

“And it makes you horny.”

“Yeah. That too.”

Jimin’s hands close around fistfuls of sheets to anchor himself as Hoseok continues to pump into him slowly. Thankfully they’ve gotten past the point in their weird relationship where this might be uncomfortable and idle banter helps smooth over the parts that are still awkward. Over the past few months, Jimin has learned that Hoseok’s fingers are long and slender, except around the second knuckle. The expected stretch is usually unexpected as the rhythm often changes to keep him on his toes, but Jimin is definitely not complaining.

A few minutes of feeling the inconsistently rhythmic drag and push has him squirming though. He wants to say something, to demand or beg for anything that involves more, but Hoseok is a tease. The more Jimin asks, the more prolonged the wait.

There’s only one “more” that Hoseok will always respond positively to.

“Lube please?”

“Of course,” Hoseok obliges immediately, popping open the cap with his free hand to reapply and ease the friction again. At least he always makes sure Jimin is comfortable and safe.

He braces himself for the brief cold sensation, closing his eyes, but it doesn’t last long.

“Okay, I think I’m—”

Jimin chokes as Hoseok purposefully pushes agains his prostate, making the younger boy’s hips lift off of the bed in surprise.

“Ready for my dick?” Hoseok finishes.

“Please don’t say that.”

“Are you ready for my dick, Jiminie?”

Jimin can’t help laughing, though it sounds breathy, “Yeah, fine, just put it in.”

Hoseok gasps, obviously pretending to be offended. He pushes against Jimin’s prostate again, making the younger boy fidget.

“I’m not going to just put it in. I’m going to slip my leaking cock inside of your warm wet walls and make sweet, sweet love to one of my best f—”

“If you keep talking, I’m gonna leave.” Both boys laugh as Jimin pouts and weakly, playfully shoves at Hoseok’s shoulder, ignoring the momentary emptiness when Hoseok’s fingers withdraw, allowing him to clean his hand.

“I’m just taking lines from one of Jin’s fanfictions. I thought you’d like it.”

“I hate it,” Jimin says, still giggling, but lets Hoseok push his knees up toward his chest, exposing his entrance to the older boy.

“Good. Because I think I’ll do a play by play narration of how I slip my throbbing dick into your pretty little hole—”

“Not listening!”

“And then pound you mercilessly into the mattress as my balls slap loudly against your tight perky ass—”

“You are seriously the worst.”

“And then I’ll shoot thick white ropes of my seed inside of you—”

“Hobi!”

“This is just revenge for my hot pocket, Jiminie.”

Jimin is laughing too hard to care about how long it takes to slip a pillow beneath his hips, or for Hoseok to put on the condom as he suppresses his own laughter. The narration of bad smut serves as a good distraction while Hoseok carefully slips the head of his dick in too, makes accommodating his length easier because Jimin is already somewhat relaxed. This is another thing he likes about casual sex with Hoseok. It’s actually fun and not heavy and tense. It’s more about feeling good and less about keeping up impressions.

“You okay?” Hoseok asks with a tone that’s now faded into something softer, accompanied by a small smile.

“Yeah, ‘m good,” Jimin closes his eyes, taking a few deep breaths as the older boy gently, slowly rocks his hips, pushing his length in just a little further each time.

It’s not often that the two get time alone in the apartment. Seokjin and Hoseok usually get concurrent shifts at the retirement home and now they have Taehyung to deal with, so today is a rare opportunity. Hoseok got out of work a little early, Taehyung went to go record his podcast, and Seokjin had signed up for some medical training program that took him out of town for the evening. So yeah, stars aligning, universe blessings, coincidences and shit. Jimin is finally getting dicked down and it feels great.

Hoseok’s hands brush up the center of Jimin’s chest, probably purposefully missing his sensitive nipples by a mere hair’s width, then travel back down to his stomach. What a goddamn tease. His palms are rough, but not exactly calloused. Jimin takes a deep breath, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the older boy leans forward, giving him leverage to squeeze Jimin’s ass, then massage firmly along his thighs, inadvertently pressing them against his chest again and almost folding him in half. Jimin has always been flexible, but the pleasant ache of this stretch goes straight to his dick, making it twitch against his lower tummy as a small, quiet grunt leaves his lips, toes curling. Hoseok smirks, then hooks Jimin’s knees over his shoulders.

“I wonder how many people wish they were me right now.”

Jimin scrunches his nose. “That’s a weird thing to say.”

“Well look at you, like fuck. No wonder you do so well shooting porn,” Hoseok laughs as his hips settle against Jimin’s, keeping still, giving him time to adjust.

The younger boy blushes, “Thank… you? Right? That was a compliment?”

“Definitely,” Hoseok says, beaming, then pinches one of Jimin’s nipples, causing him to squeak. Such a fucking goddamn tease. Jimin loves it. “Why don’t you ever do streams? I’m sure people’d pay a shit ton to see you like this.”

“You mean hanging off a straight boy’s dick?”

“Totally.”

They share another laugh, though Jimin’s is shaky and short lived as Hoseok wraps a hand around his length, pumping slowly. The older boy’s hips continue to remain still.

“I dunno,” Jimin’s voice is unsteady as he watches the fist move up and down, flicking quickly every so often, and he tries to form complete sentences despite the increasing difficulty. “I shoot niche porn. Can’t exactly stay in full makeup and costume on a stream. And I’ve never been good at the whole camera thing.”

“Camera thing?”

“Yeah. Editing and setup and w-whatever,” he says, stuttering as Hoseok finally swivels his hips, a small action that has heat blossoming in Jimin’s abdomen.

“Maybe Jungkook could help you out with that too.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“I’m sure he would.” Hoseok chuckles, pushing his hips forward, sheathing himself inside Jimin once again. “Except you might want to get life insurance just in case he spontaneously combusts?”

“Hobi, not right now.”

“I mean, don’t you think it’d be the opportunity of a lifetime for him-?”

“Don’t.”

The one word is more powerful than any of Jimin’s former protests, and causes Hoseok’s leisurely rhythm to come to an abrupt stop. The younger boy tries to backpedal.

“Sorry, I just… please don’t talk about him while you’re inside me.”

Tension hangs in the air, but only for a moment as Hoseok’s expression softens.

“Right, I’m sorry,” he apologizes too, leaning forward to press a kiss into Jimin’s hair. “I’ll stop.”

He’s the one person who gets to kiss Jimin while fucking, and only on the forehead, cheeks, or temples. Jimin doesn’t know exactly why he self-imposes this rule. Maybe it’s because kissing strangers during sex feels too intimate, even more so than the penetration itself. Maybe he feels as if letting anyone be that emotionally close to him is dangerous, being that it’s always him who gets left behind. Or maybe he’s shallow and doesn’t like inexperienced tongues and lips and doesn’t want to deal with figuring out who has which or worse, both. Whatever the case, he trusts Hoseok, but only so much.

“Do you want me to…” the way Hoseok says this implies the sentence would end with “pull out.”

“No it’s fine. Just fuck me already, please?” Jimin laughs, but the sound is strained.

After that, there’s no more talking, no more humorous banter. There’s only the awkward sounds of soft grunts and sharp sighs and skin on skin. It’s not that Hoseok is bad at sex or that his skills are slacking. Far from it. Jimin’s mood has simply been thoroughly ruined and all of the tension that had been building up in his body and mind over the past two weeks goes from being a heavy concrete solid to a murky, gritty molasses as one of the most unsatisfying orgasms of his life hits him. He feels disgusting, but in a way that has almost nothing to do with Hoseok and everything to do with Jimin being a fucking slut.

The older boy’s thrusts get sloppy when he reaches his own climax, huffing, shoving himself deep enough that Jimin winces. As his small fingers press into Hoseok’s sweat slicked shoulders, tugging him down to lie chest to chest and smearing Jimin’s mess between their stomachs, he wants to scream in frustration. The post-orgasm fog was supposed to help clear his thoughts, but naturally (as all fog does, he supposes) it only makes things more difficult.

Jimin does not like Jungkook, not in the way that Jungkook likes him. But he wishes he did… He wants to like him, to be in love with him because then maybe everything could be simple, maybe Jimin wouldn’t hate himself, and maybe the ever pervasive gritty, viscous feeling of guilt would finally go away.

Stories in the Clouds

Today it’s overcast, a little more gray.

Jungkook looks out the window to see if it’s gray with an “e” or with an “a.” He’d once heard the only difference was preference. Another person had told him gray is darker and grey is lighter. Working under the latter explanation, it’s definitely gray outside.

So there aren’t many individual clouds to look at… but that doesn’t mean we can’t find a story to tell, right?

Taehyung’s voice is soothing, deep, a little different in ways Jungkook can’t quite explain as it filters through his earbuds.

Seeing the under side of clouds that are kind of smudgy like this makes me wonder what the tops look like. Are they smudgy too? Or is there something hidden beyond this gloomy grayness? Delicate wisps and spires of water vapor stretching toward the sun…

Jungkook wonders if he’s reading from a script, or just making it up as he goes along. The only clues he has are that it’s currently streaming live and the sole noise beyond his voice are the distant sounds of traffic. If it’s scripted, he’s doing a great job at hiding it. If it’s not, then Taehyung is a ridiculously skilled orator.

If there were a palace in the clouds, do you think it would look like that?

A rhetorical question, but Jungkook tries to picture it anyway.

All spires and wisps and winding stair cases. When I was little— and I think a lot of us have experienced this at least once— I used to want to live up there. Rule over my own cloud kingdom high above the ground. I wondered if it would feel dense but springy like cotton balls, or if it would be as light and soft as a handful of feathers.

Taehyung laughs quietly, making a pleasant shiver run through Jungkook. His voice is so nice.

Over the next thirty minutes, Taehyung builds the intricate story of a castle in the sky, with each soft breath forging fantastic imagery, conjuring up lords and ladies and warriors and customs with honey sweet words that Jungkook is helpless to defend himself against.

… but like all kingdoms over the course of history, the destruction of our castle of clouds is inevitable. With the sun and the wind eroding its walls, it is doomed to dissipate or change so substantially that it is no longer recognizable. Maybe one day we will see it again, in the sky or in our memory. Or maybe it’ll just evaporate in the fog of our thoughts. Whatever the case, thank you for joining me this week and tune in next Saturday for a new episode. Until we meet again.

The podcast stops playing, but Jungkook continues to stare out the window, willing the vibrant images to come back. They do, but not with the same vivid detail as when Taehyung had painted them in his mind. It’s an easy decision, to download all fifty seven available episodes. The time it takes to actually download them, however, is a lot longer.

He groans as he watches the progress bar, silently thanking the universe that Yoongi and Namjoon aren’t home right now to complain about him hogging the bandwidth. Jungkook sets his phone down on the coffee table to go find something to snack on.

He feels… odd. Like, he doesn’t actively feel worried, which is very unusual.

It’s completely normal for him to feel anxious about everyday things such as driving, being indecisive about what he wants to eat, and interacting with people who aren’t his family or five best friends. But today? He’s low key getting anxious about not being anxious, which ironically alleviates some of the anxiety. It’s irrational, he knows. But who’s rational nowadays?

Jungkook is halfway through an episode of a telenovela he doesn’t understand and a carton of strawberries that Yoongi must have bought (he’ll repent for this later, no doubt, but they’re delicious and he regrets nothing) when there’s a knock at the door.

He doesn’t even have time to question it before Taehyung’s deep voice musically assures him, “It’s me. Taehyung. Anyone home?”

Pushing himself up and setting the strawberries down, Jungkook’s socked feet help him to shuffle his way to the door without too much effort. He opens it with wide, surprised eyes.

“Oh good, it’s you,” Taehyung says, laughing.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno, Yoongi kind of terrifies me?”

Jungkook smiles, “He does that to a lot of people. But he’s really just a crusty marshmallow.”

Taehyung makes A Face.

“Did you just say ‘crusty marshmallow?’”

“Yeah, kinda hard and lumpy and burnt on the outside, but soft on the inside.”

“So you mean a burnt marshmallow.”

“Do I?”

“Do you?”

They pause, staring at each other with comically wide eyes before sharing a round of giggles. Taehyung continues, “Okay you can describe him however you want but please don’t ever use the word crusty in that context again.”

“Crusty. Marshmallow,” Jungkook draws out and punctuates the words, earning him a smack to his shoulder, which only causes him to laugh harder.

“Anyway, you busy? Mind if I hang out for a bit?”

“Did you get locked out again?”

“Actually no,” Taehyung takes a deep breath like he’s about to reveal some earth shattering news. “The front door was unlocked but I’m pretty sure someone’s getting fucked.”

Jungkook tries to be casual like he hadn’t just heard said earth shattering news.

“Fucked like… in a good way?”

What the hell kind of question is that?

“Actually, I couldn’t tell,” Taehyung’s nose scrunches as he obviously tries not to cringe. “Without disclosing names, there was some really weird dirty talk. But it also sounded like arguing? And they were laughing?”

Jungkook feels the heat creep onto his face, scorching the finally acne free skin there. But now? Hello, stress pimples tomorrow.

“It was Jimin, wasn’t it.”

Taehyung holds up his hands in mock surrender, looking mildly guilty as he says, “I said no names.”

Jungkook nods and steps aside to let the boy with the fiery red hair inside.

“I guess I can’t make you listen to that.” His subsequent laugh is strained, but probably only to his own ears.

“Thanks,” Taehyung sighs as he walks in and plops down on the couch. “If I feel awkward about it, I can’t imagine how you feel.”

Jungkook shrugs as he slowly lowers himself into a comfortable position on the other side of the couch, back pressed against the seat cushions, one leg crooked up, arms crossed on his tummy.

“It’s alright. He does it a lot.”

“How often is ‘a lot?’” Taehyung asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Like once or twice every month.”

“Oh.”

The only sound for a solid minute is the wailings of a distraught woman speaking rapid Spanish on the TV.

“Do you speak Spanish?”

“No. You?”

“No.”

Jungkook picks up the remote and changes the channel, pressing the button a few times before he settles on the news. They’re talking about slight chances of rain in nearby cities. It reminds Jungkook to say something.

“I listened to your podcast today.”

Taehyung’s head tilts toward Jungkook, a smile playing across his lips as he says, “Yeah? And what’d you think?”

Jungkook shrugs like he isn’t currently single handedly destroying their router to listen to other episodes of Stories in the Clouds.

“Pretty good. I might try out a few more.”

“Great! That makes me really happy,” Taehyung relaxes into a boxy smile. “It always helps to know someone’s actually listening.”

Jungkook can relate to that. He takes pictures of landscapes, sometimes objects, sells them, and never knows if the buyers actually take the time to look or if his photos just hang anonymously in dentist offices and retail employee break rooms. Of course people look at the porn, because one: it’s porn and two: Jimin’s boss keeps asking for more. In that way, Jungkook knows some of his art is being appreciated, but what about Taehyung?

“Do people ever like, leave reviews and stuff?”

“Sometimes,” Taehyung laughs lightly, a deep sound that makes Jungkook’s scalp tingle pleasantly. “Maybe once every two months. I occasionally get emails. They’re usually pretty nice.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah.”

The woman on the TV is talking about a possible cold front, but Jungkook isn’t ready to believe her. Weather people on news networks are the reasons he has trust issues. Not really. They’re actually the only people he sees (or listens to) on a regular basis that he tends not to trust. And with that he runs out of things to readily distract himself.

The silence feels a little heavier than last time, but Jungkook highly doubts it’s Taehyung’s fault. It’s likely the circumstances he brought with him. It’s at this point he’s grateful he can’t hear Jimin and whatever person with whom he’s messing around. Despite the relatively thin walls within the apartment, the insulation is great between floors. Jungkook takes a deep breath, then lets it out as a long sigh.

“Are you gonna fuck Jimin?”

The question is abruptly out in the room like a dildo found on a bathroom counter.

Taehyung’s first response is apparently to burst out laughing, which is both an expected and unexpected reaction to something so straightforward. It’s a full body laugh, one that has his knees lift from the couch cushions and has his hands clapping.

“What?”

Jungkook can feel the blush creep up on his cheeks again, “I, ah, I mean like… are you attracted to him?”

Taehyung takes a couple breaths before his laughter peters out to the point where he can talk coherently. He then reaches over and places a large, pleasantly warm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Dude, it would be totally uncool of me to fuck Jimin if I know you like him.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed that he didn’t answer the refined question.

There’s a small lump forming in Jungkook’s throat, making it hard to speak as the other boy’s hand is withdrawn, “But… is that like, the only reason you’d say no?”

“Okay before I answer that, let me ask you this,” Taehyung pauses here, and Jungkook isn’t sure whether or not he’s doing it to purposefully make Jungkook’s whole body feel like a compressed spring. “Do you do this because you enjoy emotionally abusing yourself?”

His expression must obviously read as confused because Taehyung explains after a moment, “Like asking about Jimin and taking his pictures.”

Jungkook’s reply is hesitant, but completely honest, “I don’t know.”

“Well maybe this isn’t my place—”

“It probably isn’t,” Jungkook murmurs, but the comment is a lot less derisive than he intended it to be. It makes him sound like exactly what he is, a sad lonely boy.

Taehyung continues, unfazed, “But I don’t think doing this to yourself is healthy.”

Jungkook’s first reaction is to get defensive because what does Taehyung know about his life? About his relationship with Jimin? He does manage to remain vaguely respectful because of the nagging feeling of “this isn’t Taehyung’s fault,” and only the slightest bit of aggression seeps through his tone.

“What are you saying? That you don’t think I should help Jimin with his shoots anymore?”

“That’s up to you,” Taehyung appears to stay completely calm, which sort of gets on Jungkook’s nerves more than the words themselves. “I’m just saying you have a choice.”

“A choice?”

“Yeah. You don’t have to work with him. He can find someone else.”

Jungkook has to fight the petulant jealousy that starts pressing on his chest.

“We work well together. And I keep things professional.”

“Feelings aren’t professional, Kook,” Taehyung’s voice drops a note or two lower, becoming softer, almost a warning.

“So now you’re saying I can’t have emotions-?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He pauses, likely to rethink his words. “What I wanted to say is, you can’t control your feelings, no matter how much they pay you or how good something looks on your resumé or in your portfolio. Feelings don’t follow rules.”

Jungkook bites back the retort he wants to make about how the hell Taehyung would know. But he’s right, no matter how much Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” Jungkook knows his ‘reason’ is a weak excuse before it even leaves his lips. He’s regressing. He can tell, and the pressure increases. “He’s my friend and I need the experience. I can bottle up feelings.”

“Sure you can. But for how long?”

“Forever.”

Now he just sounds like an angsty teenager again and he hates it.

Taehyung’s expression is sympathetic, “You and I both know you can’t. You’re breaking.”

“That’s a stupid cliche.”

Taehyung talks right over him, “You can see it, your friends can see it, even I can see it. What does that say?”

“What the fuck do you know?” The defensiveness starts to press harder, and Jungkook is so pissed off that he doesn’t even want to finish the internal metaphor about dents and shit. “You only met me like a week ago. Don’t pretend to—”

“I know you haven’t gone to the gym in over three months,” Taehyung’s soft voice is somehow more powerful than Jungkook’s raised voice. “I heard Jin talking to Hobi about it. I know you get lost in your thoughts or try to block them out by watching trash TV in languages you don’t even understand. And I definitely know how you look so fucking sad when you talk to Jimin.”

“Shut the hell up.”

It’s not even an exclamation. If it was, Jungkook is sure his voice would have cracked.

“What I’m trying to say is it does matter. It matters to your friends and it should absolutely matter to you. You can’t just keep pushing this aside and abusing yourself.”

Jungkook remains silent, not knowing what to say.

So Taehyung continues, a little quieter, “We care about you, Kook. Myself included, even if we did only meet a week ago. And… and if you don’t start fixing things to help yourself, then fix things before they start hurting Jimin too.”

It’s a twisted line of thinking, but it’s not meant maliciously. Jungkook can tell Taehyung isn’t favoring Jimin. In fact, he’s pandering to Jungkoook’s feelings for him. The worst part? It’s working. Jungkook can feel himself start to collapse inward like a crushed soda can, the facade of anger melting into what he really feels, pain.

“Trust me. I understand when you like someone so much that you’d do anything to make them happy— drive hours, spend thousands, throw yourself off a cliff if it would make them smile,” Taehyung says, letting out a soft, nervously macabre chuckle.

Jungkook continues to remain silent.

“I understand… when every breath you take makes it feel like your heart is going to explode and everything you see you associate with them and there’s nothing that feels good or healthy about it anymore but you can’t help it because you love them.”

Because you love them. Because Jungkook loves Jimin. He’d never dared to even think the words before, but he does and he knows it. Has probably known for a while. He’s so in love with a boy who won’t ever love him back.

Jungkook has never been a loud or dramatic crier, so it takes Taehyung a few seconds to notice the change in his body language. Or maybe he notices and just doesn’t want to bring attention to it. After all, he goes quiet and simply reaches over to give Jungkook’s hand a gentle but firm squeeze as the hot tears collect in his eyes. He won’t be weak like this. Never again.

One shaky breath later and he’s able to nod, voice cracking, “Yeah. That sums it up.”

Maybe it wasn’t just that Taehyung’s words were novel worthy— either spoken from experience or due to the fact that he’s a natural storyteller. Rather, maybe they not only opened the door to the closeted thoughts and emotions Jungkook has been repressing, but also dragged them into the light, shook them out, and then beat them like a dusty old rug. Maybe both, but Jungkook feels vulnerable. So painfully vulnerable because this stranger knows all of his secrets.

Taehyung slowly scoots over and wraps an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, drawing him close in what’s probably meant to be a comforting gesture. The angle is awkward, but Jungkook appreciates the sentiment.

Okay, maybe Taehyung isn’t a “stranger.”

“I wish I had a solution for you, Kook. I really do. But all I can offer is to support you how you feel supported.”

“I’ll let you know when I figure out how that works.” His reply is slightly facetious, but after a pause, he adds a genuine, “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The boy with the fiery red hair held up by a faded navy blue bandana gives Jungkook’s upper arm a soft pat as the latter drags his shirt collar over his eyes, wiping away any evidence of those despicable tears.

The news has moved on from weather to traffic.

Taehyung clears his throat.

“Oh, and my answer from earlier…? No. You aren’t the only reason I wouldn’t fuck Jimin.”

If Jungkook had looked down at his phone in that moment, he would’ve seen the notification telling him that the podcasts had finished downloading.

Jimin watches curiously as Hoseok takes a seat across from him at the small dining room table. He arches an eyebrow, smiling over his bowl of soup (courtesy of one lovely, angelic Kim Seokjin). Hoseok’s hair is still messy from a couple hours earlier (courtesy of one not so angelic Park Jimin), but he now has sweatpants on, hanging low on his hips like some stupidly handsome character out of one of Seokjin’s fanfictions.

“Sometimes it really sucks that you’re straight,” Jimin teases after a beat of silence, knowing full well that this is a conversation they’ve had multiple times. It just never ceases to amuse him.

“Why?” Hoseok asks as he peels a banana halfway.

“Because you’re hot and it’s annoying that I have to wait for you to be like, spontaneously horny.”

“I think I’m worth waiting for,” Hoseok winks, then purposefully sensuously bites into his banana.

Jimin wrinkles his nose, holding back a laugh, “Can you not wink at me while you’re eating that?”

“You mean like this?” Hoseok does it again, this time in dramatic slow motion.

Despite their little hiccup during sex, as Jimin decides holding back his laughter isn’t worth it, he can’t help but be glad he has a roller-coaster relationship with Hoseok. They get thrown for a loop sometimes sure, but at the end of the day, it’s fun, gets his adrenaline pumping, and always has him looking forward to riding again (sometimes literally). Even better, Hoseok helps Jimin feel relaxed, happy, and like he isn’t disgusting, isn’t alone.

About halfway through the giggle fueled impromptu banana blowjob, Seokjin comes through the door and looks like he’s about to walk right back out. Thankfully he doesn’t.

“Should I ask what’s going on here?”

Jimin smiles innocently, “Not if you don’t want to.”

Seokjin pauses as if he’s contemplating, then shakes his head and bends down to untie his shoes.

“How was training?” Hoseok asks first.

“It was alright. Nothing too exciting.” Seokjin pulls both lips between his teeth for a moment, a blush dusting his cheeks. “Namjoon texted me though.”

“He did?” It’s Jimin who pipes up this time, almost spilling a spoonful of his soup.

“It wasn’t anything important. He just asked if I wanted to go to dinner-”

“What?” both Hoseok and Jimin squeal.

“No, no,” Seokjin shakes his head as he slumps down at the table. “Not like that. He asked if I wanted to go with him and Yoongi.”

Hoseok seems to deflate a little, but Jimin prompts, “And you said?”

“No.”

“Why?” Hoseok almost scoffs.

Jimin smacks his forehead, regretting it when one of his rings makes contact with the sensitive skin. He probably deserves that.

Seokjin shrugs, rubbing at the back of his neck as if trying to alleviate tension from sitting at a desk all day behind a computer. His voice is small, “I had my training and they’ve been out for like an hour now.”

“Go to them oh my god,” Hoseok huffs and throws his hands up in affectionate exasperation.

“Okay I will! Just let me like, take a breath,” Seokjin says, almost a sigh as his head lolls to rest against the back of the chair. “I’ve had a long day.”

The silent tension Seokjin used to incite that originally followed a hookup between Hoseok and Jimin is now completely absent. It’s not so much a guilty secret anymore as a simple reality they don’t talk about. They continue with brief conversational pleasantries until the eldest boy asks, “Where’s Taehyung?”

“Hot-Taehyung?”

“Hobi, there is no other Taehyung.”

“I’m just clarifying. Gosh.”

Jimin giggles, “I dunno. Last I heard he was doing his podcast.”

Seokjin’s eyebrows pinch, a small crease forming between them.

“But that was supposed to end hours ago.”

“Oh,” Jimin purses his lips, trying not to feel guilty. “Then I have no idea.”

“What great friends you guys are,” Seokjin retorts with less bite than the words suggest, fishing out his phone. He taps a few keys, then sets the device down. “What if he was locked out again or something?”

Hoseok shrugs, “The door wasn’t locked, so…”

“It wasn’t?” Jimin has to consciously keep his eyes from bugging in surprise.

“No?” Hoseok glances over, head tilting subtly in obvious confusion.

Jimin isn’t sure whether he’s doing a bad job at communicating urgency in his gaze or whether Hoseok is just being terrible at picking it up. Alternately, as a possible third option, maybe Hoseok isn’t as (ashamed or) afraid of people finding out that they’re fucking as Jimin first thought he might be. Could Jimin be the only one concerned about it? Had he simply assumed and projected the same sentiment onto Hoseok? But why would Jimin be afraid of someone finding out?

Seokjin looks between both boys, ping ponging between a nonexistent silent conversation because really, Jimin is sure they’re both internally monologuing.

“What’s up with you two?” Seokjin asks after a few solid seconds of silence. Before either boy can answer, his phone pings and he picks it up, informing everyone, “He’s at Kook’s place.”

“Well great now that that’s established, go to your not-boyfriend,” Jimin offers with a teasing giggle.

Hoseok catches on immediately, playing along, but likely for entirely different reasons, “He’s probably really bummed and will be super surprised when you show up on your white horse in shining armor.”

“I have neither armor nor a horse.”

“Details,” Jimin waves off Seokjin’s concern with a flap of his hand.

“Okay, I’ll go,” Seokjin pushes himself up with what looks like a mix of annoyance, excitement, and willpower actively fighting exhaustion. “But don’t burn the house down while I’m gone please.”

“Why do you think we’d burn-?”

Hoseok doesn’t finish the sentence, instead smothering a laugh at the look Seokjin gives him.

“Have fun,” Jimin gives the eldest boy a bright smile, genuinely wishing him well. He’s pretty sure everyone knows about Seokjin’s giant crush on Namjoon except for Namjoon himself. It’s almost physically painful to watch. And listen to. But that’s what friends are for right? Listening to constant pining and deciphering not-at-all-coded text messages.

The most frustrating part is the fact that no one seems to know how Namjoon feels.

“Goodbye my beautiful gay son,” Hoseok pretends to dab at tears under his eyes. “Enjoy yourself and use condoms.”

“Hobi, I am older than you.”

It takes a bit of shoving (plus tripping over and into shoes) to get him back out the door and yeah, Jimin feels a little sorry for him. The poor guy seems exhausted. Anyone would be after a full day and a half of work. That, and it can’t be easy to be around one’s crush whose feelings may or may not be reciprocated while feeling so tired.

“He’s gonna be okay right?” Jimin whispers, watching from the doorway as Seokjin trudges down the hall and jabs at the elevator call button.

“Course,” Hoseok says with a nod in agreement. “They’re just hanging out.”

“Who knows? Maybe something good will happen, right?”

“Right.”

Thus naturally, when Seokjin comes home two hours later with red eyes, blotchy skin, and uneven breathing, both Hoseok and Jimin immediately jump off of the couch where they had been watching anime to ask what’s wrong. Instead of giving them a clear answer, Seokjin pushes past them and locks himself in his room without a word.

Both boys take turns attempting to comfort him. Jimin goes and knocks, offers water, and reminds Seokjin that he’s “there if you need someone to talk to.” Hoseok knocks once too, but then resorts to texting, to which Seokjin doesn’t reply either.

Jimin would be worried if he hadn’t known the guy for years. Seokjin just needs time to process, that’s all. Time to process, and room to breathe. He’s probably playing with his sugar gliders. Knowing this doesn’t mean he isn’t concerned though, and Jimin is at the ready with whatever his friend might need. Ice cream? Water? A shoulder to cry on? An ear to listen? Jimin will be there.

Yoongi once told him that he overdoes the whole “comfort” thing, but Jimin would rather be over prepared than have someone hurting. Maybe it’s because he’s a good friend; or maybe it’s because he wishes someone would do the same for him, would see the hurt he tries to hide behind numerous smiles and giggles.

He’s surprised about an hour later when the first thing Seokjin replies to is the group chat.

Generic BEST Friends:

Yoongi: [10:45 pm]

Namjoon did you wash the dishes

Namjoon: [10:46 pm]

Yes, why?

Yoongi: [10:46 pm]

There’s this nasty residue on half of them

Wtf did you do

Namjoon: [10:46 pm]

I washed them with the new soap you left by the sink

Yoongi: [10:47 pm]

Joon

That’s fucking hand lotion

Namjoon: [10:47 pm]

WHY IS THERE LOTION BY THE SINK

Yoongi: [10:48 pm]

KOOK’S HANDS GET DRY

Jungkook: [10:49 pm]

Aren’t you guys like in the same house?

Y r u texting?

Yoongi: [10:50 pm]

Ur in the same house with us

Dumbass

Jungkook: [10:50 pm]

But I have a guest! lol

Seokjin: [10:51 pm]

Tae’s still over there?

Jungkook: [10:51 pm]

Ye. He says hi

Jungkook: [10:52 pm]

Hiiiiiii Jinnnnn~ -Taetae

Yoongi: [10:52 pm]

Guess who gets to rewash the dishes

Seokjin: [10:52 pm]

Hi Taetae

Namjoon: [10:52 pm]

Jin

Namjoon: [10:55 pm]

Jin? Why didn’t you pick up when I called?

Yoongi: [10:57 pm]

The answer is me

Namjoon: [11:31 pm]

Seokjin answer your phone

Namjoon: [11:32 pm]

Please?

Relief floods through Jimin when he gets up to investigate the sound of a door opening and sees it’s Seokjin’s. Yes, the older boy manages to get in the bathroom before Jimin can stop him, but that doesn’t mean the latter can’t lean up against the wall and wait for him to come out. It doesn’t take that long either.

Seokjin visibly startles as he opens the bathroom door, pressing a hand over his heart, “Jimin, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he tries for a laugh but it sounds tense, or maybe nervous. “I didn’t mean to be creepy, I just wanted to catch you before you locked yourself back in your room.”

Seokjin’s laugh manages to sound more natural, but there’s still a hollowness behind it, especially as he replies, “Well standing in the dark outside of the bathroom didn’t really help your ‘not creepy’ case.”

The younger boy quietly apologizes again before straightening up and crossing his arms, “So, you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Playing coy is for immature people.”

“You do it all the time.”

“Yeah exactly.”

Seokjin laughs again, this time, it’s genuine even if it fades rather quickly into his response, “Okay, no. I don’t really want to talk about it. But thank you for being concerned.”

“Of course, I just need to know if I gotta beat anyone up.”

“Jimin, you’re a small mochi.”

“But I have muscles— don’t distract me,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Are you okay? Like, obviously not but…”

Seokjin reaches out and puts a hand on Jimin’s upper arm before promptly dropping it again.

“You don’t need to murder, maim, or lecture anyone. Don’t worry. Nothing happened.”

“But if nothing happened, why are you upset?”

The older of the two reaches up, brushing the hair out of his eyes with fingers that tug at the strands like he’s trying to forcefully evict a memory. His voice is soft, “Because nothing happened. We were talking and I said one of my cleverest jokes ever and Yoongi was all grumpy about it so I told him he needed to get laid and he was like ‘fuck yeah’ and I was like ‘same’ and do you know what Namjoon said?”

“What?”

“He didn’t say anything. He just sat there and kept eating. Didn’t even look up.”

Jimin wants to smack himself in the forehead, but he learned the first time that rings hurt, so he settles with pinching the bridge of his nose, “Okay I don’t want to seem like I’m belittling your problems-”

“I feel a ‘but’ coming.”

“— because your feelings are absolutely valid; but Jin, just because he didn’t jump at the opportunity to stick his dick in you doesn’t mean he isn’t interested.”

“But he’s never interested,” Seokjin laments. “I keep casting out lines and he just swims right past the hook.”

“You’re using boat metaphors again.”

“Sorry I regress to maritime metaphors when I’m upset.”

“It’s okay, breathe,” Jimin says, taking both of Seokjin’s larger hands in his, hoping to give him something to… anchor onto. Damn those boat metaphors.

“Breathing,” he confirms, despite his voice sounding thick.

Jimin gives his hands a gentle squeeze.

“Three things. One, maybe Namjoon isn’t into casual hookups with friends. Two, maybe he’s just like, really oblivious. Three, there are endless other possibilities and we don’t know how well you’re reading the situation.”

“True,” Seokjin says as he takes a shaky breath.

“So why don’t you just talk to him? Even if it’s not an epic anime— sorry, wrong audience,” Jimin briefly pauses to correct himself. “Even if it’s not an epic dubcon fanfic confession, I think you should still talk.”

“Not to burst your bubble, but there aren’t usually a lot of confessions in abo fics-?”

“Abo?”

“Alpha beta omega.”

Reading. Loading. Failure.

Rebooting.

“You get the point,” Jimin sighs, scrunching his nose and releasing Seokjin’s hands. “Get on the same page. Or… ugh… be in the same boat.”

“Oh good, now that you’ve used a boat idiom I’ve gained all the courage I need.”

“Don’t be sassy with me.”

“You’re sassy with me all the time.”

“Yeah but I’m younger.”

“And I’m older, so you should respect me.”

Jimin is on the verge of laughing. That’s one of the great and terrible things about Kim Seokjin. He always knows how to lighten the mood, but often at the expense of his own plot and character development. Thus, Jimin back tracks a bit.

“Promise me that you’ll talk to him.”

“Okay fine,” Seokjin huffs, shoulders as wide as the goddamn ocean (fucking hyperbolically accurate boat simile) slumping a little. “I’ll talk to him.”

“And I mean soon, not like a month from now.”

“Okay, I will not wait until a month from now.”

“To clarify, not any longer than a month from now, not like two months or a year or whatever.”

“Okay, I will not wait—”

“Actually, this week. Tomorrow would be even better.”

Seokjin pouts, “You’re making too many demands for my poor, gay broken-heart.”

“No excuses.”

“Fine.”

Namjoon cleans when he’s stressed, not because of a need for neatness or organization, but rather a need for control. This much Jungkook has noticed after living with him for so long. But a cleaning Namjoon is usually followed closely behind by a disgruntled Yoongi, who has to clean up further messes in the former’s wake.

Jungkook hasn’t heard much about what caused this round of stress induced, frantic cleaning, but he does know that it has something to do with three of his friends going out to dinner. And from the group chat? It appears something maybe went wrong between Namjoon and Seokjin.

The younger of the two is currently wreaking havoc in the bathroom, scrubbing at the tub with an abrasive sponge. Yoongi, who is probably still fixing the whole “lotion is not dish soap” situation, is blissfully unaware. Namjoon had been dusting and sweeping earlier, which seemed pretty harmless and is why everyone had left him alone, but he’s starting to get back into dangerous territory.

Taehyung and Jungkook exchange a glance as they stand in the bathroom doorway.

“You can keep watching the show if you want. I’ll… yeah,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck, watching his friend scrub at a stain that probably wouldn’t come out even if they set the whole house on fire.

“You sure?”

Jungkook nods and Taehyung pats him on the shoulder, a silent “good luck.” He’ll probably need it. Taking a deep breath, Jungkook waits until his bedroom door closes before walking over to the bathtub and kneeling beside Namjoon.

He tries to keep his voice gentle, but humorous, “Yoongi’s gonna kill you if you scratch the porcelain.”

The older boy lets out a throaty sound of distress, “But, but I need to clean it. When was the last time anyone actually came in here with a sponge, Kook? Like what if there’s billions of billions of little bacteria-?”

Gentle and humorous part two. “Just tell me what’s wrong before we have to pay for damage.”

Namjoon, looking so pathetically vexed that Jungkook almost pulls him into a hug, sits back on his heels with a long sigh, “I don’t even know what’s wrong. He won’t talk to me.”

“Jin?”

“Yeah. He just got up and left and said ‘I’m fine’ when I called after him but really even I could tell he wasn’t fine and he didn’t answer his phone and no one’s telling me anything and now he won’t talk to me and I don’t know what to do and the bathroom needs to be cleaned.”

When Namjoon gets stressed, he also starts using run on sentences. It’s odd, considering he’s usually so well versed with a wide vocabulary and knack for complex grammatical terms.

“That really sucks,” Jungkook says, puffing out his cheeks as he exhales slowly through pursed lips. Yeah, he’s severely lacking in the “comforting people” department too, but he’s pretty sure his fumbling comment is preferable to “rub some dirt in it and write another poem” from Yoongi. Jungkook continues, inadvertently taking a “be supportive” page from Taehyung’s book, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Namjoon pulls off his rubber kitchen gloves and tosses them onto the rim of the bath tub, sitting back with his knees up, arms around them, and feet planted. He looks lost.

“If you can somehow get him to just… text me or call me or something, that’d be great.”

His tone suggests that he does not, in fact, think Jungkook can do this, which leaves both boys surprised when Namjoon’s phone rings. Jungkook doesn’t know what to expect. If this were a romantic comedy, it would be Seokjin. Or maybe, simply because that trope has been used so many times, it wouldn’t be Seokjin just to give the story humorous false hope and not use cliches, which itself has become cliche. So really, anything’s possible, which leaves Jungkook a little disappointed when Namjoon answers the phone with:

“What? I’m busy right now. No, I’m not in the office.”

Jungkook stays in the bathroom, joining Namjoon by sitting on the floor instead of kneeling on his aching knees. He listens to the one sided conversation for a minute or two before there’s a knock on the door frame. Looking up, he finds Taehyung standing there with his phone.

“Jin just called you. I figured you might want to know.”

Jungkook scrambles to get to his feet, only slipping on the sleek tile once before getting upright and taking the device. He thanks Taehyung before redialing with a slide of his finger. The phone rings once, twice, then Jungkook’s ear is bombarded with, “Eomuk, you are not allowed in that drawer-! Hey Kook. Sorry. I— give me a sec.”

There’s a bit of rustling on the other end of the line.

“Okay sorry, he’s back in his cage. Is, ah… Is Namjoon there? I called, and it went straight to voicemail.”

Jungkook’s eyes dart from Namjoon’s expression to the phone in his hand.

“Yeah. He’s here, but he’s currently on a business call? Should I tell him to call you b-?”

“No! No,” Namjoon throws his own phone aside so dramatically that when it clatters onto the tile floor Jungkook winces. “I’m free. Here.”

He extends his hand and Jungkook, in the heat of the moment, doesn’t think twice about handing over his phone. He will regret it five minutes later when he’s still standing there awkwardly, staring at Namjoon as he talks. It’ll be at the ten minute mark that he decides to leave the bathroom, going back to his own bedroom to finish the movie he’d been watching with Taehyung. In fact, he won’t see his phone for an additional thirty minutes at which point Namjoon will return it and cause him to wonder why all interesting things in his life seem to happen in, near, or because of a bathroom lately.

But for now? Jungkook feels a little bit of pressure lift off of his chest as Namjoon smiles, relief washing through his voice as he talks to Seokjin.

[Next Part]

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