#i need to get on the print grind for next year 😭 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

suga-kookiemonster · 6 years ago

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ego 05

summary⇢ what’s a girl to do when her sweet, innocent baby lab partner isn’t quite so sweet and innocent? well, he’s a grown-ass man, and you’re about to learn that the hard way. pairing⇢ jungkook/reader word count⇢ 10.3k rating⇢ 18+ genre⇢ smut | humor | college!au | fuckboi!au | fratboy!au warnings⇢ sexual content, club grinding, thigh grinding, sarcasm, repressed salty pokémon feelings, drinking/partying and mentions of smoking, oc having to deal with shit (literally 😩), fuckboys in their natural habitat, mr. jung 👀

a/n⇢ “this is going to be shorter than the other chapters” i say in a bold-faced lie 🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️😂 also, i clearly need to be on an episode of true life: i discovered indian food and now that’s all i want to eat, your point is?? 😂😭😭

This chapter’s mood 😏👀👀 hope you enjoy!

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Namjoon waited until you were elbow-deep in paneer and halfway through an episode of Criminal Minds to drop the bomb.

He had invited you over for dinner and, of course, you had accepted without a second thought—along with movie nights at your apartment, it was also a normal occurrence for the two of you to order takeout and chill at Beta Tau. To huddle side by side on Joon’s bed in your respective, assigned Snuggies (him: zebra-print, you: cheetah-print) and stream one of your favorite shows.

Needless to say, you never saw it coming.

“You know,” you mumbled, mouth full of rice and eyes on his laptop, “this show hasn’t really been quite the same since Hotch and Morgan left. My girl JJ’s still killing it though.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon said distractedly, shifting a bit beneath his Snuggie. His fidgeting caught your attention, and when you turned to look at him, he met your eyes cautiously and cleared his throat. “Uh…_____, I have to tell you something.”

Your chewing slowed, immediately wary by the way he was nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously.

You should have known there was a catch. Namjoon never forked up the extra dollar for the garlic naan, the cheap fuck. He was obviously trying to butter you up about something.

“Go on,” you hedged, mentally bracing yourself. “I’m listening. What’s up?”

“I think…” he swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I think…I’m going to ask Lisa to the formal this year.”

For a few moments, your chewing stopped completely, brain going a mile a minute as it struggled to comprehend what he was telling you.

Like every fraternity, BTS celebrated the end of the year by hosting an annual spring formal, renting out a place to party for a whole weekend. For the past couple years, Beta Tau’s venue of choice had been a lakeside hotel a couple hours away, in a bit of a touristy area that had plenty of room and activities for shenanigans. Each brother was allowed to invite a date, and Namjoon had taken you both years—the two of you had always had a grand ol’ time getting completely fucked up with your dumb fratboy friends for a solid 48 hours.

But it seemed that would not be the case, this year.

This was the obvious outcome, you saw that now. It had been a while since you had seen Joon this happy, and you had known that he and Lisa might turn into the Real Deal simply from what you had observed during the few meals the three of you had shared together. She was a chill, sweet girl, Namjoon’s ideal counterpart, and you approved whole-heartedly. A fleeting thought one night had even conjured up the image of you as the rich vodka aunt to their future kids, spoiling them rotten when you weren’t disappearing to yacht the Mediterranean with one of your many boytoys. But for some stupid reason, you hadn’t factored losing your favorite weekend of the year to be the means to that end.

You swallowed, your food now a tasteless lump. “Oh.” Namjoon shuffled nervously again, and that properly kicked you into high-gear. “Oh Joonie, I’m happy for you! I’m so glad it’s going well.”

“Really?” He eyed you carefully. “You’re not upset?”

“I’m not upset,” you repeated.

“You sure?” he prodded gently. “Just sittin’ there pouting, hands balled up like Arthur?”

You immediately unclenched your fists, looking sheepish. “I’m not upset, I promise! Just a little bummed. You know my favorite part of the year is getting all dressed up and stuntin’ on ’em with my Joonbug.”

Namjoon smiled, cheeks dimpling.

“Also…those wings.”

“There it is,” Joon laughed, shaking his head fondly at you.

“Those wings, Namjoon! You know they really be hitting.” You groaned tragically, mourning the loss of the best chicken wings you had ever tasted in your entire life. Strange that they could be found at a fancy-dancy restaurant in a waterfront hotel, but you had long since learned to take it for what it was and simply enjoy. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. It’s fine! I am more than willing to sacrifice my wings for such a worthy cause. You just have to promise me one thing.”

Namjoon met your serious gaze with his own. “Anything.”

“If Lisa doesn’t eat her weight in wings, you gotta dump her immediately, because she’s clearly not strong enough. It’s the true test.”

“Deal,” he said solemnly, making you crack a smile and snort into your naan. He smiled with you, playfully leaning until his side tapped yours. “You know…you should just ask Taehyung—I’m sure he’d love to take you. Last year he just waited until the last minute to drag along someone random anyways.”

You looked at him crookedly. “Joonie, if I go with Taehyung, I’ll have to sleep with him.”

“What, why?! Who said anything about that?”

“First of all have you met Tae?” you huffed. “He will jump anything that moves, and also, to be honest, a few choice things that do not. Secondly, if I went with him I’d would be taking up prime booty real estate. It would be flat out selfish not to buss it open.”

Joon was quiet for a few seconds as he thought over your words. “…How badly do you want those wings?”

“Are you suggesting,” you said slowly, “that I pimp myself out for some chicken wings?”

He blinked, seemingly just noticing the offensiveness of his comment. “Uh—”

“…Not even gonna lie, I’m lowkey thinking about it,” you hummed, leaning over him to fish through the gulab jamun with your fork.

“Good.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Because you know the trip won’t be anywhere near as fun without you. Also, if we’re being real, you desperately need to get laid.”

You scoffed, offended, chewing on your dessert. “Excuse me, since when was my coochie any of your concern?”

“Uh, since you made it my concern, remember? Now I’m invested in her story arc. I’m rooting for ol’ girl.”

“So your solution is to hand her over to some dude that will have me swinging from chandeliers?!”

“I don’t know, maybe she’s ready for some excitement in her life. You’re lowkey turning her into a nun.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snorted.

He cleared his throat. “…Just putting it out there, but you could also ask—”

“I’ll let you know,” you interrupted, not really listening. “I guess we’ll just see how desperate I get. Hey, do you have any more napkins?”

Namjoon ruffled through the bag. “No, I think we used them all. There’s more in the kitchen.”

“Fine, I’m going,” you sighed, carefully shuffling around your plate and the laptop, somehow managing to climb over Namjoon’s unhelpfully large body without getting tangled in your Snuggie. “You want anything from downstairs?”

“Nah,” he mumbled, attention already back on his food and the crime show.

You gathered the trailing ends of your Snuggie as you carefully walked down the stairs, mindful that stairs were not your forte and knowing full well that if you were to ever die, that was exactly how your dumbass would go—tripping down the stairs and rolling into a cheetah-print burrito as you fell to your end.

The kitchen was quiet as you shuffled around, grabbing a roll of paper towels and debating whether you should hijack somebody’s pack of Double Stuf Oreos. It was when you heard a door slam that you froze, snatching your hand back from the cookies guiltily and turning your head to meet the owner of the oncoming footsteps.

You weren’t prepared to see Park Jimin. Which, again, was dumb of you, because you were in his fucking house. But seeing him standing there, dressed casually in an oversized sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants—his tousled blond hair messily stuffed under a backwards snapback— immediately made you freeze like a deer in the headlights. As if he wouldn’t be able to see you if you stood still enough.

But, of course, Jimin saw you immediately, eyes widening in recognition as his hand paused in its reach for the refrigerator door. His lips inched up into a fond smile. “Hey, beautiful,” he greeted slowly, eyes crescents and cheeks round. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah,” you replied faintly, unconsciously gathering some of your Snuggie into your hands to free your feet in case you needed to escape.

Your…fuck. How could you have forgotten that you were still wearing your super-uncool, cheetah-print monstrosity? Standing there looking like the Great Value version of a big cat?

Unfortunately for you, Jimin noticed your blanket when you did, grabbing the water bottle that he had come for and then making his way over to you, amusement rolling off of him in waves. He reached for one of your oversized sleeves, rubbing the fleece between his fingers. “Cute,” he murmured, eyes filled with mirth as his gaze met yours.

You looked away, pleased yet shy, eyes settling on the way his fingers toyed with the fabric of your sleeve.

“What are you doing in my neck of the woods?” he hummed.

“Uh,” you swallowed, mind momentarily blanking before your mouth caught up to his question. “Just watching some tv with Namjoon. That’s why the…” you trailed off, choosing to gesture to your attire obviously instead.

“Definitely looks comfy.”

“Do you…” Your tongue nervously darted out to wet your suddenly dry lips, and Jimin’s gaze darkened. For a solid second, you could see him, vividly, lifting the corner of your giant, ridiculous blanket and sliding under it with you. Dancing his fingertips across your actual skin, instead of your sleeve. You cleared your throat and pushed the thought away. “Do you want to join us? We have leftover Indian food.”

His smile froze and then fell into a pout, a disappointed sigh slipping past his lips. “Ugh, I really wish I could. But I was just headed out to dance practice and I can’t skip.” He looked at you hopefully. “Raincheck?”

“Raincheck,” you confirmed, his sudden grin pulling an answering one from you.

“Can’t wait,” Jimin breathed, retrieving his hand and stepping out of your space. He made to leave the room, but threw you a look over his shoulder before he did. “By the way, those Oreos are Jin-hyung’s. But I won’t tell if you don’t.”

He winked on the way out, and you felt it all the way down to your toes.

You were on your way to class one day, sipping on a cup of trusty coffee, when you realized that you were unintentionally trailing some girl, the two of you walking in the same direction for a decent amount of time.

You weren’t quite sure what to do. It wouldn’t be so awkward, but her pace was slightly slower than yours—just enough that you couldn’t easily pass her, but that you were lowkey crowding her space more than was proper. You were too impatient to simply slow your stride, and other students hustling to their own classes were crowding the small sidewalk and the surrounding grass, so darting around her wasn’t an option.

So you just continued to inadvertently follow her, hoping that she didn’t notice and think that you were stalking her. But to your surprise, she chaperoned you all the way to your designated building. And when she opened the door, reflexively turning her head to see if she needed to hold it open for anyone behind her, you realized that you knew this mystery girl.

Okay, this was starting to get silly. What in the hell was this girl’s name?! Soomi? Misoo? You should really figure it out, because the two of you had locked eyes, and now you couldn’t pretend like you didn’t see her. Being selectively blind worked when you ran into random classmates at the supermarket, but it wouldn’t work now. Your good upbringing dictated that you had to speak.

“Hey…girl!” you greeted, inwardly preening at your own save.

Soomi/Misoo didn’t seem nearly as enthused, lips pursing as if she had eaten a lemon. “You don’t need to rub it in,” she hissed, turning away from you and practically stomping down the hallway.

You blinked slowly at that, and continued to follow her, intrigued. “Come again?”

“Oppa!” she snapped, not bothering to look at you. “He asked us to back off, so congratulations! You won!”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. Jungkook had finally told his fangirls to fuck off? That explained why his adoring fleet had been strangely absent lately. You wondered what he had told them to make them actually listen, but your bff Soomi/Misoo pushed open the lecture hall doors and stomped her way to her center seat before you could even ask.

Damn. He really had her in her feelings, huh?

When you made your way to your own area, Jungkook was there already, in his newly claimed seat, pulling earbuds out of his ears and wrapping the cord around his phone. He looked up as you passed him to sit down, a little smile touching is face as he stuffed the phone in his backpack.

“Hey,” you greeted distractedly, unzipping your own backpack and bending over a bit in his direction to pull the necessary materials out of it. You wondered if you could get the tea straight from the source, strategizing a tactful way to bring the subject up. “How’s it going?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away, and when you leaned back out of his space, notebook in hand, you shot him a curious look.

Only to find him following you into your space, eyebrows pinched a bit in thought, gaze dropping to your mouth.

You resisted the urge to pull away and restore the dwindling space between you, almost growing crosseyed with how close he was. “…Can I help you?”

You heard him take a long pull of air through his nose, his eyes drifting up from your lips and meeting your bewildered gaze.

“Your breath smells like hot Cheetos.”

Baffled, you pushed his face away with a scoff. The fuck was wrong with this kid? “That’s probably because I just ate hot Cheetos,” you deadpanned. “How the hell do you know what hot Cheeto breath smells like, anyway?”

Jungkook shrugged, properly back in his assigned area and seemingly unaware of how stupid and invasive his actions were. “I like hot Cheetos.”

You rolled your eyes, set on turning your attention back to the front, but then your lab partner called out to you again.

“Hey, are you going to the party on Friday?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” you replied honestly. “I’m assuming you are?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “You should, noona. It’ll be fun.”

You hummed, thoughts immediately gravitating to the last Beta Tau party you had gone to. “We’ll see.”

We’ll see was apparently code for yes, because there you were, at another BTS open party despite swearing them off not too long before. After the last BTS party had flipped your universe on its head, you had promised yourself—and Mina—that you would not be setting foot into another one. However, all it had taken was Namjoon offhandedly mentioning that Seokjin would be making jello shots for you to show up.

Jello shots were a thing Jin had originally started making for you—he knew you weren’t into beer, but were into unnaturally colored, sugary sweet drinks, so one day, when you were on a long rant about the frat’s shitty, beer-heavy alcohol selection that you would be drinking from—for free, it should be noted—he just decided to make you a tray to shut you up.

There was nothing that Seokjin loved more than food and alcohol. (Well…pussy was definitely up there.) So needless to say, the jello shots he presented you with had been mad flavorful and strong. You don’t remember much from that first night, but apparently the two of you had somehow found a karaoke machine and spent the entire rest of the evening drunkenly wailing away. You woke up the next morning on the living room floor, mic still clutched in hand. Seokjin was snoring not too far away from you, missing a shoe for some reason that he never saw again.

(“I tried getting you to come to bed, but you kept insisting that you needed to sing ‘No Diggity’ fifty more times, and who am I to argue with that?” Namjoon had told you at breakfast. “But then Jin-hyung decided he was gonna go get his guitar and play ‘Wonderwall’, so I had to abandon you. I’m not strong enough.”

“Fair.”)

Anyways, long story short, Seokjin had started making those jello shots for you, but quickly realized that you were not the only one who loved them. No, women loved jello shots. And Seokjin? He fucking loved women.

This was why you were nowhere near surprised to find him nice and booed up when you walked into Beta Tau, a giggly girl under each of his arms as he snuggled and sweet-talked them on one of the couches. He seemed to feel your gaze on him, because for a moment, his eyes met yours, his smirk widening in recognition as he tipped the jello shot in his hand in greeting.

You laughed, sending him a teasing salute as you kept it pushing. You had had the good sense to pregame this time, so you were nice and agreeable when you met up with Namjoon and Lisa.

At least, you were. Until you recognized the sight of ruby-red lips and the flipping of long, dark hair from across the room. Your mood immediately soured as you watched Jia saunter her way around, dressed head to toe in white, from her coat to her dress to her over-the-knee heeled boots.

White. That was rich. Just seeing her in such a pure, angelic color made you want to laugh.

“Okay, seriously? Why is she even here?” you moped, alcohol in your system making your lips fall into something that could be described as a pout. Namjoon followed your line of sight, and sighed. “Can’t you ban her or something? Joon, what’s the point of having power if you never use it?”

“Be nice,” Namjoon scolded gently, but it was clear from the way his cheeks dimpled that his heart wasn’t in it.

“Make it make sense!”

“Who are we talking about?” Lisa asked, looking around curiously.

You froze. For a moment, you had somehow forgotten she was there—and now you weren’t quite sure how to handle this situation, particularly when your best friend’s relationship was still young and budding. Not knowing how to respond, your eyes darted to Namjoon for help. “Uh—”

“She’s my ex,” he said simply, and your eyebrows went up in surprise when Lisa only nodded in understanding. “You know, the one I told you about?”

Wow, he had already told her about the Jia situation? And told her all of it, from the way Lisa’s lips were pursed in irritation as she sized the other girl up.

“Huh,” she replied, clearly unimpressed.

Goddamnit, you loved this girl. If Namjoon didn’t marry her, you definitely would.

“I honestly just don’t get the appeal,” you snorted. “She ain’t special.”

“Who?” a deep voice asked curiously in your ear from behind you. You jumped, startled, turning around to give Taehyung a glare as he waggled his fingers at you cheekily, giggling to himself at your reaction.

Your eyes fell back to Jia like magnets, appalled to realize she had already somehow managed to drape herself across a frat brother’s lap, whispering in his ear and clearly having him wrapped around her finger as his hands whispered up her thighs. “Okay in all seriousness, what is her pussy made of?”

Tae shrugged, having easily deduced who you were talking about and casually draping an arm across your shoulders. “You know,” he said conversationally, “it’s really not that great. I would not recommend.”

Over Lisa’s head, you saw Joon subtly shake his head in agreement with Tae, and bit your lip to halt any laughter from escaping. Instead, you turned to Taehyung, mildly offended. “What, you think I would waste a lesbian encounter on her? I know my worth. I can bag a girl way better than that.”

“Yeah you can!” Tae cheered, looking around the room. “Like who?”

“Like…” You looked around the room as well, settling on a worthy target. “Like ol’ girl over there with the bangin’ booty. I would totally hit!”

Tae hummed in agreement, his thumb rubbing slow circles into your shoulder. “Who else?” he asked lowly.

“Uh…probably—” you paused, noticing how Tae was concentrating a little bit too hard on you, eyes dark. It was when his tongue darted out to wet his lips that you pulled away from him in disbelief. “Kim Taehyung! Are you getting off on this?!”

“…No,” he said unconvincingly.

“I cannot believe you right now.” But against your will, your tone was filled with laughter. “I refuse to deal with this foolishness, so new topic. Question for you two men: I was looking through this month’s Cosmo at the dentist today, and it told me that if I dipped my finger in hot sauce and then rubbed it on my man’s asshole, it would ‘spice things up’ in the bedroom. Terrible pun aside, what are your thoughts? Would you consider that sound advice?”

Namjoon looked legitimately alarmed. “Are you fucking kidding me.”

“Hmm.” Tae’s gaze strayed toward the ceiling as he thought. “What kind?”

“Taehyung,” Namjoon hissed. “Does it matter?!”

“How do you feel about sriracha,” you proposed.

Tae’s lips slowly stretched into a smirk. “I do enjoy sriracha.”

“Frank’s Red Hot?”

“Ehhh…”

“Cholula?”

“Should I call the ambulance now?” Namjoon huffed. “You know, so they can get a head start on traffic.”

“Hey, are there any more jello shots?” you asked suddenly, ignoring him. You were still drunk, but your buzz was certainly starting to wane, and you needed to re-up that if you didn’t want to be ready to go to bed in approximately forty minutes.

“There were a little while ago,” Lisa informed you, eyes roaming the crowd over hands that were littered with—you guessed it—jello shots. “I don’t know about now.”

That was the kick in the ass that you needed to head to the kitchen. Those jello shots were yours, damn it! “I’m gonna go see if there are more.”

“Check on top of the fridge,” Tae supplied helpfully. “I think hyung saved you some.”

Score.

“Hey, be careful with those,” Namjoon warned. “Remem—”

“Yes, Namjoon, thank you, I remember!”

“No you don’t,” he scoffed. “That’s my whole point.”

You waved him off with a hand as you started weaving your way through bodies towards the kitchen.

A burst of loud cheering grabbed your attention, and when you turned your head curiously, you were met with a large crowd not too far away, hooting and hollering as they circled around a dude being tipped upside down in the air by two BTS brothers. There was a moment of confusion as your drunken mind struggled to piece together what was going on, but then a happenstance shifting of bodies revealed that the upside-down brother was greedily guzzling from some type of hose, veins protruding in his forearms as he supported most of his weight. And also that he was your lab partner.

Sounds about right, you snorted in amusement to yourself as you finally turned away. Jeon Jungkook would be doing keg stands.

You continued on your trek, pausing again in surprise when you noticed Jimin, leaning against a wall not too far away from you. His eyes were already on yours, and he smiled when he realized you saw him. You raised your hand and gave him a little wave that you hoped wasn’t awkward, and that only made him smile bigger, pushing off the wall and starting to make his way over to you.

But his journey was halted when he was intercepted by a red-headed girl—who, you realized with a twist of your stomach, was his girlfriend. Claire.

Jimin turned his attention to her distractedly as she handed him a beer, his expression falling into something that toed the line of irritation until it evened out again. His eyes darted over to you again, but you merely shot him a tight smile and turned away.

You wondered what the fuck all that was about, but honestly, it was none of your business. It’s not your place, you reminded yourself sternly, finally reaching the kitchen, ignoring the stragglers within and heading straight for the fridge. Let it go. You had to climb on the adjacent counter to be able to reach the top of it, but Taehyung had been right—four paper cups sat on top.

You grabbed them greedily and hopped down, immediately slurping down two of the bright red shots, which had become slightly liquidy from sitting out. It was only then that you noticed Yoongi, leaning back against one of the counters and watching you amusedly.

“Hey Yoongs,” you said, tone a bit too glum for your tastes. So you squeezed another shot into your mouth, bright blue this time, as you walked over to him. Jin had left you your favorite flavors—red and blue—and the thought of that cheered you up a bit.

Yoongi was wearing a beanie over his mint hair today, but you could still see him raise a questioning eyebrow at you from beneath his bangs.

“How’s Henrietta doing?” you asked before he could comment on your slightly dejected state. “Still…pink and plastic?”

Yoongi visibly perked up at that. “She’s doing well, thank you for asking.”

“Of course.” You crumpled up the empty paper cups in your hands and stuffed them in a nearby abandoned plastic one. It was all going in the trash anyway. “Why are you hanging out here by yourself?”

Yoongi started flat out laughing, and your lips twitched in responding amusement as you waited for him to explain himself. “Namjoon’s gonna be so pissed,” he replied, grinning at you gummily.

“What?” You leaned towards him conspiratorially. “Why? What’d you do?”

In response, he cracked the dishwasher he was standing by.

And you smelled it before you saw it.

Your face scrunched up in disgust, and you had to tamp down the urge to gag. “Yoongi, what the actual fuck!”

The older man shrugged nonchalantly. “I was kinda supposed to be watching, to try to catch the moron that keeps doing it. But I left to go get more beers, so. Oh well.”

You were reaching your hand out to slam the dishwasher door shut on the abomination when you saw it—Jia’s white suede coat unsupervised, draped innocently over a chair.

You weren’t sure what came over you. Honestly, it was probably due to the overwhelming frustration you were starting to feel over a cumulation of many different things. But it was like you were watching yourself from above, your fingers magnetically drawn to the stark, pristine coat, ignoring the way Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you.

And without even stopping to think about it, you balled it up, opened the dishwasher door wider, and rolled that coat right into the fresh pile of human shit, making sure it smeared.

Yoongi whistled low, eyes wide. “But tell me how you really feel?” he sniggered. You ignored him.

It wasn’t like she actually wanted the jacket back anyway, you reasoned to yourself. Who wears a white coat to a frathouse in the first place? And who leaves their coat unattended in a frathouse, expecting to see it again? A dumbass, that’s who.

…Wait, on second thought, maybe she did want it back…

“Is that my coat?”

Startled, you slammed the door shut and whirled around. Jia was sneering at you, and though you could see Yoongi had managed to school his face into perfect indifference, you weren’t sure you could do the same. Time to leave.

“Why the fuck would you put my coat in the dishwasher?” you heard her fume as you rushed past her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You pushed your way through the crowds of people, gearing up to sprint if need be. But your escape was halted by someone grabbing your elbow. You whipped your head around, panicked.

“What’s the matter, baby?” The term of endearment easily rolled off Jungkook’s drunken tongue, but in your urgency, it barely registered. You made to keep walking, and his fingers slid down your arm until he could grab you by the hand, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

A bloodcurdling scream erupted from the kitchen, shocking a number of people around you to look in that direction in alarm.

“Don’t look back, Jungkookie,” you hissed, breaking into what could be considered a light jog and dragging him along. It was very incriminating, and some spectators watched your escape curiously, but you didn’t give a fuck. You weren’t trying to end up looking like Cynthia from Rugrats. “It’s time to hustle. Knees to chest! Knees to chest!”

Jungkook got the hint, taking your direction seriously and moving so quickly that suddenly it was him leading the way, pulling you out the building by the hand at breakneck speed. You stumbled after him, and he didn’t stop until the two of you were outside the building and halfway down the block, breathing heavily in the chilled air.

You had left too quickly to grab your coats, and though the weather had definitely been warming up lately, right now it was nighttime and chilly. Awkwardly, you untangled your hand from Jungkook’s, using it instead to rub heat back into your arms. The action made him blink slowly at you, as if he had only just realized he had been holding it to begin with.

“Uh.” You swallowed. “You’re probably wondering why we had to bounce.”

He grinned, still running high on adrenaline and alcohol. “Nah, not really,” he replied breezily. As if it had never occurred to him to ask what you had done to warrant your quick and necessary escape.

You hadn’t been expecting that answer, and this time it was you who was left blinking dumbly at him. “…Okay. Well, uh, sorry about that. I think I’m just gonna head home and lay low, but you can go back if you want.”

He looked up at the night sky for a moment, eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated your words. “Nah,” he finally said as he looked back at you. “I’m hungry now. I want ramen. You want ramen?”

“…I could do ramen, yeah.”

“Then let’s go!” he said cheerfully, grabbing you by the elbow again and walking. Steering you further down the block. “I know just the place!”

And “just the place” was a convenience store not too far away, the florescent lighting making you blink dazedly against the stark atmosphere. It probably hadn’t been a good idea to suck down those last two shots so close together, but it was too late for that now, and, frankly, you were too drunk to care, happily following Jungkook as he headed to a specific aisle, on a mission.

“What kind?” he asked, reaching over to pull a small hand basket out of a nearby container. “Get whatever you want.”

Your eyes swam over the variety of noodles—labels swathed in red, pink, blue, orange. It had always been hard for you making a choice when given too many great options. “Uh…”

“We can get a chicken and a beef, everybody likes those,” he mumbled to himself, putting said cups in his basket. “You like spicy food, right?”

“Fuck yeah, I like spicy food.”

“Good,” he grinned, dropping two cups with blazing-red packaging—and the word nuclear in flaming font—with the others. You were too drunk and stupid to worry about your stomach lining. “Come on, noona, get whatever you want.”

“Jungkook, we’re not gonna eat all that!”

“Oh, it’ll get eaten. Don’t worry about it.” He waited for you to give any indication to your flavor preference, but when you still didn’t do anything other than stand there, baffled, he let out a sigh, as if you were being purposely difficult. Then, he simply began dumping one of each flavor into his basket.

“Jungkook!” you hissed, but he ignored you, heading to the register. You followed. “Are you seriously gonna buy all of those?”

He set the basket on the counter, lifting a challenging eyebrow.

“Oh, you got money!” Your eyes widened, and Jungkook puffed up like a peacock at that. You turned to address the cashier. “He got money!”

The cashier looked at the two of you, stone-faced and and apparently not as impressed as you were. “Nine sixty-seven,” he deadpanned.

“Hey noona,” Jungkook said suddenly, turning unfocused eyes on you as he felt around for his wallet. “How’s your portfolio doing?”

“Fucking great, thanks to you,” you sighed, looping your arm through his. Alcohol always made you touchy-feely—everybody’s best friend—and this clearly was no exception. “You should come to the, to the, you should come to the showcase.”

“Showcase?” he repeated, voice a tad bit too loud. He didn’t seem at all perturbed by your proximity, instead easily leading you back into the chilly air, as if it was perfectly normal for you to be pressed to his side. The bag of purchases hung loosely from his free hand.

“Our final projects are gonna be displayed and presented like an art gallery at the end of the semester,” you informed him, unthinkingly walking in the direction of your apartment. “And since you’re the only reason I’m going to have anything to display to begin with, you should definitely come.”

Jungkook smiled down at you, all teeth. “Okay. Yeah. I’d like that.”

You suddenly felt your your clutch vibrate, and you turned away from him, distractedly sliding your arm out of his and rooting for your phone.

joonie 🙄

5 Text messages

Yikes. For a moment, you had somehow managed to forget you how you ended up buying shitty ramen at a convenience store with your chemistry partner to begin with.

This didn’t bode well for you.

joonie 🙄 [10:36] hey, where did u go

joonie 🙄 [10:51] HOLY SHIT

joonie 🙄 [10:51] _____

joonie 🙄 [10:52] WHAT DID YOU JUST DO

joonie 🙄 [10:52] 😂😂😂😂😂😂😭😭😭😭

He didn’t seem to be mad, thank god. You would check in with him tomorrow when he was sober to be sure, but right now? Right now, your night was going pretty fucking great. You just knew that that harpy Jia was out there somewhere, punching the air, and it made your heart warm.

Your heart stayed warm the whole trip back to your apartment (though that very well could have also been due to the large amount of high-quality vodka Seokjin had undoubtedly put in your jello shots).

At least you weren’t the only one more shitfaced than not—Jungkook stumbled out of his shoes after he toed them off, almost tipping sideways into the refrigerator as he made his way into the kitchen. “Do you have a kettle?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, plopping tiredly onto a chair as if you had run a marathon. “I don’t know where it is though—can’t you just use the microwave? It’ll probably be faster.”

Jungkook shot you a distressed look.

“FOR THE LOVE OF—fine! I’ll find you a pot, you big baby!”

“I-It’ll taste better this way anyway.”

“Baby,” you continued to accuse, getting up to pull out an adequate pot.

And much to your surprise, your companion proceeded to actually cook one of every flavor. The two of you sat on your living room floor, cups spread across your coffee table like a noodle flight, rotating through each one and giving them all a grade. When Jungkook tasted a flavor he particularly liked, he would lean closer to you with widened eyes, not satisfied until you tasted it yourself, slipping his proffered chopsticks between your lips.

Also to your surprise, Jungkook had been true to his word when he said the ridiculous amount of ramen he had bought would be all eaten. At the end, your stomachs were full and all the cups were empty, and you weren’t exactly sure how. That boy must have eaten at least six of them by himself, and you were lowkey impressed by his stomach capacity and curious if he secretly housed a black hole.

You chatted about nonsense subjects, slowly sobering up as the carbohydrates hit your bloodstream and soaked up the alcohol. And it was all perfectly fine—until your conversation fell into a certain topic.

“He’s a fucking dick!” Jungkook shouted, voice cracking, lip quivering.

Holy—was he about to cry? You held out your arms in tipsy alarmed response, and Jungkook immediately took you up on the invitation, crowding between them and wrapping his own securely around your middle.

“Charmander had abandonment issues, and he knew that!” he continued. “He fucking promised him that he would never be anything like his last trainer, and what does he do? Dump him on some Charizard island so he can travel the world with Pikachu! Send him a Christmas card every couple of years if he remembers!”

“It’s okay,” you fretted, clutching his head to your bosom comfortingly. “At least Charizard seemed happy on that Charizard island, right?”

“What kind of monster does that?” he sniffed into your neck, tightening his arms around you. He was warm. This was warm. “Charizard had obedience problems sometimes but he deserved to be loved too.”

“Okay, I’m not at all condoning his actions,” you murmured, fingers carding through his hair soothingly. “But I just want to point out that if you were perpetually stuck at ten years-old…that would fuck you up in the head too.”

He looked up at you from below, through his bangs, and you seemed to simultaneously realize at that moment just how close your faces were. You could see how the heavy haze of booze had faded away from his dark, watchful eyes, and you knew you couldn’t have looked much different. Pretty soon it would be hard to blame anything on the alcohol.

But neither of you moved away.

Instead, a moment of silence passed between you as you merely looked at each other, wrapped in each other’s arms and breathing the same high-sodium, artificially-flavored air.

Jungkook’s fingers moved restlessly against the small of your back, tracing light, idle patterns against the fabric of your shirt. You shivered, and that seemed to knock him out of it—he looked away, letting out a long, slightly shuddery breath.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He slowly unwound his arms from around your form. “Okay, I think it’s time for me to tap out for the night. My bed is calling me.”

“Mine too.” The words slipped from your lips easily, but you found yourself blinking in confusion, wondering at the strange, lingering feeling in your gut. You ignored it. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

Jungkook had already made his way over to his shoes, busy trying to tie the laces, but he looked up from his feet at that. “Of course,” he said softly. “Any time, noona.”

Your lips parted, something unknown caught on the tip of your tongue. But you swallowed it down and ushered him out, shutting the door behind him.

Your phone rang while you were on the toilet, leisurely scrolling through Instagram and catching up on celebrity gossip. You glanced at the name lighting up your screen, and pressed the answer button.

“Yes, Mr. Kim.”

“Ah, so she lives,” Namjoon replied, voice gruff from sleep and a night filled with shenanigans. “I thought you might have gone on the run to another country and changed your name by now.”

“It’s still early,” you quipped. “…Do I need to?”

“Nah.” You heard rustling as he presumably got out of bed. “Yoongi-hyung said Jia lost her shit for a good minute or so before she snuck out the back door. But we both know she’s all talk. If she was going to retaliate, she would have done it by now. I think she’s too embarrassed, so you’re in the clear.”

“Namjoon, I honestly don’t know what came over me.” You bit your lip. “I’m sorry I caused a scene. You’re not mad, are you?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m mad!” he said loudly, making you cringe, ashamed. “But not at you. Who the fuck keeps shitting in my dishwasher?! Why. What is the purpose.”

You huffed out a relieved laugh. “Did anything else noteworthy happen last night?”

“Hmmm….well, Lisa crushed Hoseok at pong. It was amazing! He couldn’t even be mad, the game was too clean!” Joon snickered. “Uhh….Jimin also broke up with his girlfriend. Oh! And Jin-hyung had a fucking threesome, can you believe that?! Actually, I totally can, I don’t know why I’m surprised—”

But you zoned out, not listening to his continued rambling. Because…

Record-scratch—Jimin broke up with his girlfriend?

Your mind raced, replaying the soft way he had looked at you the night before, how excited he had seemed to talk to you—how excited he always seemed to talk to you—and then the annoyed expression that had flashed across his face when Claire blocked his path to you. Were those two things related? And were they also related to his apparent breakup?

Distractedly, you flushed, standing up to shuffle your underwear back into place.

Namjoon stopped mid-sentence. “…Was that the toilet?”

“Maybe. I had to take a piss, okay.”

“I thought we discussed you not talking to me when you’re on the toilet.”

“Stop fucking calling me when I’m on the toilet, then,” you retorted. “You better be happy I even picked up.”

“I would rather you didn’t if you’re using the bathroom, do you ever hear me when I’m talking to you.”

“God, I’m such a good friend.”

Yes, you really were a good friend. That was precisely why, even though the night before had been flat out insane, you still found yourself getting ready to go out again on Saturday night—this time, with your roommate.

“I feel like we don’t go out anymore,” Mina had told you at breakfast. “Not just the two of us, anyway.”

And you had agreed with her—you were long overdue for some girl time. But now that you were seeing just how dolled up she was getting, you wondered if that was the true reason she was adjusting her boobs in the bathroom mirror, making sure they sat to her satisfaction in her low-cut top.

“You look great,” you commented from beside her, giving her a once-over.

Mina preened, fixing her hair. “Thanks! These are the jeans I was telling you about, you know, the ones that camouflage my lil’ fupa? Money well spent.”

“Soooooo who are you trying to look good for?” you asked suspiciously. “Is it Jackson? It’s Jackson, isn’t it? I thought you said you were finally done with him!”

Jackson, Mina’s on-off fuckbuddy who she frequently got pissed at and then returned to when she got horny enough. You had a feeling tonight was one of those nights.

“I am!! Completely done.” She hummed. “You know when you wake up in the middle of the night and groggily realize that your hand or arm or something is asleep? So you use your other hand to shift it into another position where it can get circulation and you accidentally smack yourself in the face?” She waited for you to slowly nod, wondering where she was going with this. “Well, I would rather smack myself in the face—repeatedly— with my dead hand than have to listen to anything that man has to say.”

You fixed her with a flat stare.

“…But I’m feeling some typa way tonight,” she admitted. “I don’t want him to say a single word to me…but he can still get this throat tho.”

“At least you’re honest,” you laughed. “But what happened to roommate bonding? Girl power and all that jazz. I feel like you’re abusing our friendship to get laid.”

“_____, you know I can’t show up alone! That’s desperate as hell! And don’t give me that,” she countered, pointing an accusing finger at you. “I seem to remember someone forcing me to trail her on multiple Tinder dates last year. Had me all incognito in restaurants, looking like Inspector Gadget.”

“First of all, literally nobody told you to wear that trenchcoat, that was all you,” you retorted.

“Well, when you say I should be ‘incognito’, what the fuck else was I supposed to wear?! I’ll wait.”

“You could have worn literally anything else, but whatever, I digress. The main point is that I was just trying not to get murdered, okay? And the only thing Jackson is tryna murder is that pussy. Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right!” You held your hands up placatingly at her glare. “But fine. I get it, okay? I get your point. Stop bitching, you see I’m still putting my lipstick on.”

“Good.”

So to one of Mina’s favorite bars you went, though it certainly wasn’t a hassle, because it was one of your favorite bars too. The bartenders were always heavy-handed, the music on-point, and the clientele was always decent (should you decide you wanted to find your own Jackson for the night).

Unfortunately, it didn’t take more than a few minutes after the two of you walked in for your mood to completely sour.

It was still relatively early for the clubbing crowd, so the bar was being somewhat chill with the music. It was still loud enough to dance to, but not loud enough where you couldn’t hear yourself think, or have a conversation. You followed Mina to the bar, the two of you ordering one of the signature cocktails—your tried and true choice at this establishment—and commandeering one of those standing tables, people watching as you sipped on your drinks.

“Looks like your loverboy is here,” Mina said, tone appreciative. You followed her line of sight through the darkness to none other than Jeon Jungkook, trying to flag down a bartender at the bar.

Was he even old enough to get in? He must have had a good fake.

“Damn, what’s his shirt so tight for?” Mina continued, not hiding her ogling one bit. “Can see all the titty meat.”

You rolled your eyes, looking away. “Not mine. Have at it.”

“Hm. Maybe,” your roommate said thoughtfully. “Jackson said he’d be here tonight, so maybe I will if he ends up being a disappointment, which we both know is highly likely. I’ll keep loverboy on standby.”

“Feel free,” you snorted.

But it didn’t take long for a message on her phone to steal her attention, quickly shooting you a sly look.

“You’re really gonna do it,” you accused, too much mirth in your tone to sound properly offended. “You’re really gonna leave me alone in this bar.”

“You’re not alone! I thought we just established that Jeon Jungkook is right there. Go say hi or something!”

“Woooooow—”

“I’m sure he and his titties will find some way to keep you company.”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, your irritated facade crumbling completely. “Go,” you snickered. “Get out of my sight! Text me if Jackson gets on your nerves and you need a quick escape.”

“You know I will,” she grinned, waggling her eyebrows at you.

You watched her, amused, as she disappeared into the crowd of bodies, continuing to observe your surroundings as you took more pulls from your drink.

And that was how you caught sight of it.

The later it got, the more the alcohol loosened people up, making them more willing to join the dance floor. But Jimin had always been at home there, so it was no surprise to see him at the center of it all, hips sinfully riding the beat of the bassline.

What was surprising was to see was the random girl he was pressed up against.

Time froze.

You watched as his grip tightened on the other girl’s ass, kissing her so deeply that even from this distance, you could see his tongue snake around hers.

Everything suddenly felt like it was underwater, the song booming through the speakers sounding strange and distorted. You couldn’t look away, unable to even blink. Your heart faltered, and your breath stopped entirely as your chest squeezed tight, tight.

He is not dating you, you reminded yourself, your brain repeating the words like a mantra. He’s not dating you, and he’s a grown man, and he can fuck whoever he wants. But that logic didn’t stop the fury from bubbling up, burning a path through your insides. Because he may have been more sweet and considerate than other college boys, but at the end of the day, Jimin was just that—a college boy. And you somehow had allowed yourself to forget that blatant detail.

What did you think, that he was going to break up with his girlfriend for you? That the two of you were going to get married, have 2.5 kids and a house with a white picket fence? Adopt a dog?

What did you think, that you were going to live happily ever after? With a fuckboi?

You were so caught up in your internal monologue that you didn’t notice when Jungkook made his way over to you, and your eyes didn’t snap to his until you felt a hand creep around your waist to rest on your side. Even in the darkness, you could see how his eyes were glazed over, lips slack with liquor. He was leaning closer to you, likely so you could hear him better over the booming bassline, but somehow the lazy way he smiled at you was making you even more mad.

“Hey, noona—”

You held up a finger, interrupting him. “Jeon, I am not nearly drunk enough to deal with you right now,” you snapped, sliding out of his grip and making a beeline for the bar.

That was something that you were quickly planning on fixing.

By this time, the place was really starting to get crowded, and it was hard to get even close to the bartender without rudely shoving people out of the way. Instead, you walked the perimeter of the bar, hoping to find an opening between bodies for you to squeeze into and make yourself known. A hand on your arm made your hackles raise, but when you turned your head, your snappy rebuttal died on your tongue in surprise.

“I thought that was you,” Hobi said loudly over the music, a lazy smile drifting across his face. “I had heard you were starting to make appearances again, but I still didn’t believe it.”

Jung Hoseok, another one of Namjoon’s friends—and you guessed yours, too, by extension. Out of all the brothers at Beta Tau, Hobi was the friendliest, always quick to chat people up, and even quicker to laugh. But, just like the rest of his fraternity, he was also ridiculously handsome, and tonight definitely was no exception.

He was dressed in a tshirt and slimfit jeans, his dark hair parted in the middle beneath a snapback to allow for a generous view of forehead, and as you observed him in silence for a second too long, his smile widened.

You looked away, caught, but Hobi didn’t press the issue, instead leaning in closer to you to be heard over the music, which was now officially at full volume. “You trying to get something to drink?” he asked in your ear.

“Yeah,” you replied, finally breaking out of your stupor. You grabbed his arm. “Let’s do shots.”

His eyes went wide. “Shots?” he repeated. “Go hard or go home, huh?” But he still moved forward towards the bartender. He was taller and hotter than you, so, as is the way of the universe, the sea of people seemed to magically part for him, and he easily made his way to the front, wrapping his fingers around one of your wrists and bringing you with him.

In no time flat, two vodka shots were placed in front of you, and you downed them in quick succession before your companion had even swallowed one of his.

“Damn,” he laughed, shot in his hand frozen in midair as he watched you in surprise. “You’re not fucking around, are you?”

No, you weren’t. Anger and humiliation still burned your insides, but you were certain you could overtake it with the burn of liquor.

Or, at the very least, get fucked up enough not to notice.

“Can I have another one?” you said loudly to the bartender, slapping some bills on the counter. “You want another one, Hobi? Get him another one.”

Hoseok looked at you oddly, sensing something was off, but he easily slid the two shots in front of him down his throat, and when the third one came, he dutifully tapped his shot glass against yours and shot that one back too.

“_____,” he started, watching you slam your shot glass on the countertop. “Are you okay? You seem—”

“Let’s dance,” you interrupted. You didn’t want to talk about it right now. Tomorrow you would deal with your jumbled thoughts, but right now you were just trying to forget. You grabbed him by the hands and led him further into the crowd, not even bothering to get properly near the dance floor before you were placing his hands on your hips and rocking against him. Hoseok followed along easily, but you could feel the question in his movements.

But as you danced your way through song after song and the alcohol started to metabolize, Hoseok naturally became less focused on his concern for your strange behavior and much more focused on your ass, and how it was grinding deliciously on his cock. Any hesitation he may have had disappeared entirely, fingers hot and heavy as they dug into your hips, guiding your pelvis into a fluid rolling with his that caused sweat to bead your skin and your breath to hollow. That caused heat to stir, low in your belly.

He clearly wasn’t the captain of your university’s popular dance team for nothing. It honestly felt as if you were having sex—good, toe-curling sex—and if it felt like this now, you could only imagine what it would be like if your pesky clothes were out of the way.

Hobi’s thoughts were apparently on the same wavelength. “Hey,” he murmured, breath hot against your cheek. “Wanna go smoke?”

You weren’t dumb. You knew that it was not simply weed that he was offering you.

It had come up in casual conversation before that he would always be DTF if you were, and though it had been said in a joking manner, you had always known that it wasn’t one. Hoseok would gladly fuck you, no questions asked. The fact that he had never pursued you was likely due to nothing more than timing.

But was the time finally now?

Fuck it.

Jimin could fuck whoever he wanted, but so could you.

“Yeah,” you breathed back, decision made as you reluctantly stepped away from him and looked him in the eye. “Yeah, let’s go. But let me go to the bathroom first—I’ll be right back.”

There it was again, his signature smile. But this time, it was tinged with something a bit darker, and it made a thrill run down your spine.

Pumped up on alcohol and the promise of some good dick, you pushed your way towards the restrooms, not noticing that you were being followed down the dim hallway until it was too late.

Large hands grabbed you from behind, easily pushing you towards a nearby wall. The only thing that stopped you from kicking and screaming was the sight of a familiar pair of doelike eyes. They weren’t wide and innocent now though—now, they were sharp, and narrowed on you.

“J-Jungkook,” you stuttered out, baffled. “What the hell are you—”

“You know,” he interrupted you, voice at a much deeper register than normal. “You said I was too young for you, but Jimin-hyung is only a year older than me, and that never seemed to bother you.”

You were shocked into silence, forced to crowd closer to the wall as he continued to invade your space, hands landing on the wall on either side of your head and caging you in with his body. You could see his jaw tick in the low light.

“You said you would never entertain a guy ‘like me’,” he continued, leaning down and in until your eyes were level. He raised an eyebrow mockingly. “Yet you sure seemed to be entertaining Hobi-hyung over there.”

He was too close. He was too close, his body exuding heat like a furnace against yours, his breath fanning hotly over your lips. It smelled like liquor and felt like dark promises.

“Hmmm…why exactly is that, _____?”

You weren’t sure who initiated it, but it must have been you, because there was a solid moment where Jungkook didn’t react at all, simply standing there, lips pressed against yours. And then he did, springing into action and crowding you harder against the wall, kiss almost bruising.

You acquiesced when he immediately nipped at your bottom lip, opening your mouth further to allow his tongue to slip inside. You groaned as it met yours, and the sound seemed to set him off—whole body taut for a moment before his hands desperately joined the fray, traveling your sides, whispering across your neck. Touching anything he could reach as he licked a line across your teeth.

And his urgency only spurred your own. You had already been slowly worked up all night, but now it seemed Jungkook wanted to make you fall apart, and it was rapidly working. Your fingers carded in his hair in an effort to pull him as close to you as possible, to erase all space between your bodies. And before you realized you had done it, a leg had curled around his hip, allowing you to slowly grind on one of his thick thighs, Jungkook immediately and eagerly pressing it harder into your aching cunt.

“You know, some people actually need to go to the bathroom—oh shit!”

The sudden exclamation startled you, and you jerked back, blinking a few times to help focus your eyes, and finding Jungkook looking back at you. He was so close—much closer than you were used to, his warm hands pulling you flush against him, resting so low on your hips that his fingers grazed your ass. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes almost looked black, and his lips were flushed, wet, and smeared with remnants of your lipstick.

“Sorry,” the voice said sheepishly, and you dragged your gaze towards it. Mina looked like the cat that ate the canary. “I was going to find you and see if you were ready to go, but I can see you’re busy. You gonna be okay if I leave?”

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook answered her, eyes not leaving you. His lips quirked up at the corners, and his tongue quickly ran over them, drawing your unwitting gaze. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Mina snorted. “I bet you will.”

But that seemed to finally snap you out of it. You pushed against Jungkook’s hard chest, and he let you go in surprise, stepping back as you moved away from him. “No, Mina, I’m coming with you.”

“You are?” she asked, surprised.

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed, equally perplexed. “What? But I thought…”

“I’m smashed,” you announced loudly. And though that was far from the truth, you certainly had to be drunk on something to willingly suck face with Jeon Jungkook in public. Or at all. It was unlike you. This whole night was so unlike you, it was scary. “It’s time for me to go home.”

“If you say so,” Mina said skeptically. But you had already started briskly walking away, headed for the exit, so she followed you, all the way outside.

Neither of you had actually managed to make it to the bathroom, but your bladders were clearly the least of your worries.

“Babe. You were about to let that man rearrange your guts! And frankly, I fully support that decision and am truly sorry I interrupted.”

“Oh my god.”

“Of all the days for Jackson to predictably be a disappointment. You were about to let him throw your back alllll the way out!”

“Oh my god,” you wailed. “It’s not my fault, I’m tipsy and he was manhandling me! You know how much I like to be manhandled!”

“You do love a good manhandle,” your friend allowed.

“…Mina, what do I do? What the fuck do I do?”

“This is what happens when you skip Plan A,” Mina pointed out, sighing. “Hold on, I gotta come up with Plan C. Why do I always gotta be the brains in this relationship? You know I’m dumb.”

As your friend chattered away, you put your head in your hands, in complete disbelief over what you had just done.

“Oh my god.”

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