#i used to just eat the frosting
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sunny-sol · 2 years ago
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growing up is realizing that there is no best part of an oreo, and eating them whole
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dragonairice · 4 months ago
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Woe. Sri Lankan Miku be upon ye
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you-are-constance · 2 months ago
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i dont know how i can be expected to create a graham cracker gingerbread house without PRETZEL STICKS.
i cannot work in these conditions.
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tenthdocter · 4 months ago
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You know I've always been a big cereal lover but there is not one cereal that hasn't changed massively over the years. No cereal tastes half as good as they used to when I was a kid. I can only eat like 3 different cereals nowadays and even then I do go off them a little and need a break from them
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mermaidknight413 · 7 months ago
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Cream
Ingredients:
2 cups of heavy whipping cream
4 tbsp sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
Directions: combine in bowl and beat with mixer until fluffy with stiff peaks. Store in refrigerator.
Chef’s notes:
I use this plant based whipping cream; I just dump the whole container in the bowl:
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stellaluna33 · 10 months ago
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I just had an out-loud argument with myself about the breakfast I was making for myself, like Smeagol/Gollum. "That is way too much butter." "But IS it, really?"
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frostbite-the-bat · 1 year ago
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remembering old fandoms and rps and aus i had and im realizing this isnt the first time an au version of frostbite interacted a lot with someone who at least in text had a quirk that does something to the letter s which is ironic considering their name
#...........im talking about hr again sorry my condition gets worse each day especially when im more open about it#the previous/other one was a few years back.#it was . my gorillaz days...! and my gangreen gang specific hyperfix...! (never actually watched ppg)#they were besties with snake and there was a joke they adopted him and that he was their “sssson” even if they were only like a year older#our au ggg was very different bc it was like 4-3 ppl rping our own shit but it was very found family and backstories were Angsty#and obviously snake hisssssesss hisss letter sss#then hr haff hiff liffp#fun fact i used to have a pretty nasty lisp when i was younger before i got my teeth fixed up a bit so i honestly unironically love#characters with any kind of lisp even if its the daffy duck kind (who may be a bit hard for me to understand when voice acted like that but#i still Enjoy)#(i need subtitles for literally anything anyway)#anyways ggg au frostbite is also the edgiest of all the au frostbites that exist#least developed/just cool design is glamrock frost#most developed as a character and MOST goofy is toontown frost#anyways back on the lisp whoever put the letter s into the word lisp genuinely needs to die. and the word stop. yes i got bullied about#my lisp why do you ask#ok since im rambling heres a bigger ramble#both gorillaz and hr make me feel better abt my teeth#all the band members in gorillaz have mad fucked up teeth and i didnt have access to a good dentist until like 2020. i was endlessly#bullied for my teeth and i had difficulities eating some things and other health issues because i had horrid teeth bc of genes + my parents#didnt teach me to clean my teeth properly like wow you gotta go BETWEEN the teeth. the white stuff that covers your teeth ISNT GOOD ACTUALL#and hr has a mad overbite and i have that too so that makes me feel better..ive been rlly subconscious abt that lately actually#still wondering why nobody bothered gettin that fixed but i guess everything else was a bigger issue#and the fact i was missing my front teeth#yeah my health back then wasnt the best ! and i was bullied abt it even by my own best friends parents! no good! but seeing silly band#members who r fictional who i was hyperfixated on helped me feel better#man wish i could hide stuff from appearing in tag searches bc i just like rambling in the tags#but then i say one word and it appears in the tags and im super subconsious about it now bc i made one ramble and boom why is it in the#hr tag :sob: :skull:#OH WELL.
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onsunnyside · 2 years ago
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I AM MAKING BROWNIES TODAY 🤩 CELEBRATING LOVE DAY WITH SWEETS🥰🫶
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monsterbutch · 1 year ago
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cupped cakes
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knifegremliin · 2 years ago
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it seems the older I get, the more I am unable to handle sweets. I don't care for sweet things anyway, but it's really frustrating suddenly being unable to eat food that I used to be able to. just yesterday I tried to have some (PLAIN) cheesecake, and it ended up making me feel sick because it was too sweet. I can't even do milk chocolate anymore, even a very small amount. I had a single hershey kiss a couple weeks back and couldn't do more than just the one. my favorite type of cookie is often too sweet to me now, which upsets me a lot since IT'S MY FUCKING FAVORITE. it's really fucking frustrating and awful and there's nothing i can do about it.
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girlygguk · 6 months ago
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FIRST CLASS | JJK (m)
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SUMMARY in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite.
𓍯𓂃
PAIRING rich student!jk x (f)rich student!reader
WORDCOUNT 25k+
RATING 18+ MINORS DNI
GENRE smut, fluff, angst. university au, f2l
CONTENT childhood best friends, nepo baby!reader, nepo baby!jk, tae sister!reader, heavy pining, heavy cursing, a bit of crack throughout, (soft?) fuckboy!jk, whipped!jk, simp!jk, kinda emotionally constipated!reader, lack of & miscommunication, the most dramatic fic you’ll ever read, jk has his tats & shorter hair (ref in banner pic), jk is a tits guy and reader has big tiddies, jk & reader are very touchy and lovey friends, reader is kind of a bitch to those she doesn't care about, reader is rich but jk is richer 😩, arguments between mcs, jealousy, bottled up feelings, toxic/unhealthy friendship if u were to really think about it, jk & reader have active sex lives beforehand, reader is in a fwb situation beforehand, there is an explicit scene between reader & a side character (but no sex), punch up/fight scene/blood, potential/near-miss car accident, 2 scenes where characters get badly physically injured, alcohol consumption, use of a few male idol names (mingyu, jaehyun, felix), the rest of bangtan are side characters, the last like 9k(?) is literally just smut helppp, happy ending.
18+ WARNINGS making out, grinding, dry humping, fingering (f rec.), oral (both rec.), slight exhibition?..you'll see, pet names during sex, dirty talk, use of the word slut in praise, so much praising, biting, jk likes the pain ok, body worship, tiddy sucking, mentions of tiddy fucking, ball play, nipple play, multiple orgasms, bigg dick jk, soft dom!jungkook, subby!reader, unprotected sex, ocs a pro dick riderr 🙂‍↕️, creampie, sweet aftercare
author's note thank you all so much for the love on the teaser! it truly motivated me to finish this quicker than i ever expected. however, proofing such a long piece was a veryyy different experience to what i'm used to, so if u see any inaccuracies or timeline inconsistencies... no u don't <3
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main masterlist | join my taglist | banner credit
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first class ; noun /ˌfəːs(t) ˈklɑːs/ a set of people or things grouped together as the best.
The biting cold of the winter evening settles over Yonsei University's lacrosse field, floodlights casting long shadows on the frosted grass. You pull your mink coat tighter around yourself, the chill seeping through despite your layers. Sitting on the bleachers with Park Jimin and his twin sister, Park Minji, you watch the game unfold.
The match is in full swing: Yonsei versus Hanyang, another top South Korean university. The excitement is palpable as the outdoor stadium fills with spectators, creating a sea of blue and green—the colors of the respective teams they are rooting for. Jimin wears a blue puffer jacket in support, while your roommate Minji is swimming in a blue long-sleeve sports jersey that definitely does not belong to her, you think with a smirk.
You initially weren't going to attend tonight due to other plans, which is why you aren't sporting anything blue. But, after a whiny 20-minute call from your insufferable best friend, you canceled on Mingyu last minute and tagged along with the Parks. Not that you would've dressed in all royal blue anyway… you're not fucking crazy. But maybe you would've added a blue ribbon to your hair or something.
Taehyung and Jungkook, co-captains of the Yonsei team, are in their element, dominating the field with effortless skill. You watch as your brother and Jungkook easily clear the opposing team, their movements synchronized and precise.
Jimin nudges you with a gloved hand, his breath visible in the frigid air. "Your brother and Kook are killing it out there," he says, his eyes following the action on the field.
You nod, cheeks flushed from the cold. Giving him a hum in agreement, you glance over at Minji. Her focused gaze keeps drifting back to Number 12, almost subconsciously, before realizing and snapping back to the middle of the field.
You look away in amusement, focusing on the game again and watching as Number 12, Kim Namjoon, swiftly catches the ball flying through the air with his racket before bolting through an opening in Hanyang's layout.
As the game progresses, the Hanyang team rallies, their determination pushing them closer and closer to Yonsei's lead. The crowd tenses as the score tightens, but you remain composed. You've seen this scenario play out countless times before.
There are 20 seconds left in the match, and Yonsei is down by two points. The twins have matching pouts on their lips, beginning to come to terms with your school receiving their first defeat of the season.
You watch as Hanyang makes the pitiful mistake of trying to make a risky pass by Number 1.
In the blink of an eye, Number 1's racket shoots out and intercepts the catch, and with a final burst of speed, Jungkook breaks right through the opposing defense. His eyes lock on the goal, and with a powerful swing, he sends the ball soaring into the net.
The crowd erupts, cheers reverberating across the field as the final buzzer blares, signaling the end of the game. You can't help but smile at Jungkook's skill.
The Yonsei team quickly swarms around Jungkook, their cheers morphing into a sea of bodies that envelop him, eventually toppling him to the ground in a dogpile. As they begin to disperse, Taehyung leans down to his co-captain with a proud grin.
Jungkook takes Taehyung's hand with a chuckle, the elder hoisting him to his feet before draping an arm around his shoulder. Jungkook pulls off his helmet, shaking out his damp curls, which cling stubbornly to his forehead. His eyes then drift towards the bleachers, where he suddenly loses his train of thought.
There you are, in all your glory—wrapped in a long, expensive chocolate mink coat, cheeks flushed pink from the cold air.
Your smooth legs, sheathed in sheer stockings, disappear into boots that likely cost as much as a teenager's first car. He wonders about the color of your skirt hidden beneath your coat—is it brown to match, or black to complement your boots? The color, he isn't certain, but he does know it is either a skirt or a dress. You would never be caught dead in trousers and even avoid jeans if you can. Personally, Jungkook thinks you look spectacular in jeans.
Your hair hangs loose, styled pin-straight but tousled slightly by the breeze, and his fingers itch to tuck the stray strands behind your ear. You are engrossed in conversation with Jimin and Minji as the three of you descend the bleacher seats, now heading towards him and your brother. Your brother, who is now holding his helmet under his right arm, uses his left to tug his best friend out of his trance and towards their friends.
You and the Park siblings weave through the amped-up crowd before finally reaching where the co-captains are peeling off their gloves.
Jimin clasps Taehyung's hand, pulling him into a warm, brotherly hug. "That was a fucking game, Tae!" He exclaims, a wide grin spreading across his face before giving the same greeting to Jungkook.
Minji follows suit, hugging Taehyung quickly before turning to Jungkook with a playful smirk. “You had us scared for a second, Kook,” she teases, “thought you weren’t gonna make that last shot.”
Jungkook chuckles, returning Minji's hug before leaning back and chucking his helmet on the ground, waiting for you to finish congratulating your brother.
"All part of the show," he replies to the twin with a wink before you pull away from Tae and float to him like second nature.
Nobody bats an eye as your arms slink around his shoulders, linking behind his neck. His taller frame leans down slightly on instinct, and his arms wrap around your waist. His face buries gently into your neck, pulling you a little closer. Your perfume renders Jungkook dazed, and he knows that he is a sweaty mess and smells like one too, but even if you notice, you don't mention it.
"Hi," he mumbles, his breath tickling your skin, causing you to smile and pull away slightly.
"Hi," you echo sweetly, noticing his eyes flicker down to where your coat has parted and your black Hermès mini-skirt peeks through.
You are about to ask him if he likes it because you just bought it yesterday, but he is quick to draw your coat tighter around you, probably not wanting the cold air to nip at you any longer.
He picks up his helmet and gloves, his tattooed arm slipping comfortably over your shoulder as the five of you head towards the locker rooms.
Your head rests against the side of his chest while you walk, and your friends are still beaming about Yonsei's fourth consecutive win of the season. Jungkook slows his steps slightly, letting the rest of your group pull slightly ahead.
"Glad you came," he says softly, his skin tingling as your nails lightly scratch against his shirt where your hand rests around his waist.
"Yeah, you better be," you hum teasingly, "Mingyu was not happy."
Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat before forcing out a laugh, "Tell him I'll make it up to him. Take him out on a date myself."
Your giggle soothes the ache in his chest before it returns tenfold at your response, "wasn't a date. Was just going to see him."
"Ohhaahah," his attempt at a laugh comes out more strained than he intends, and you snort, amused by his discomfort.
Before he can protest, you interlock his hand with yours and lead him towards the locker room, his steps quickening to match yours. He follows behind you like a puppy dog, as if this was your locker room and you were showing it to him for the first time.
A chaotic mix of celebration and exhaustion echoes throughout the building as you walk through the door that Tae holds open. The smell of sweaty lacrosse players all but hits you in the face, and Jungkook watches in amusement as your nose scrunches slightly. The warm air is welcoming though, and you let out a sigh as it works to defrost your frozen skin.
The changing room is packed to the brim with sweaty college boys high-fiving, recounting the game's highlights, and shedding off their gear. Jungkook lets go of your hand when you and Minji go over to say hi to Namjoon.
Taehyung is caught up in conversation with the coach, who is commending the team's performance and already running through some things they can work on in preparation for next month's match.
"Jaykayyyyyy!!"
"Let's fucking gooo, Jeon!"
"Good shit tonight, JK!"
You release Namjoon from the hug and turn towards the sudden commotion coming from the other side of the locker room.
Your best friend is at the center of the group, his teammates slapping his back and tousling his hair while showering him with praise. You notice his bunny-like teeth peeking out as he grins. No matter how confidently he carries himself throughout the day, he still flushes at compliments, which makes you roll your eyes amusedly.
Jungkook breaks away from the group and heads to his locker to check his phone while you return your attention to Namjoon and Minji, who are now caught in a quiet conversation.
You head over to Jimin, who looks to be passionately explaining something to Hobi and Yoongi, judging by his broad and exaggerated hand movements. He is a drama major though, so you can never be too sure.
A vibrating noise cuts your journey short. You fish your phone from your coat pocket and begrudgingly slip out of the locker room back into the cold air before answering. "Hey, Gyu."
"Hey, Y/N." Mingyu's tone is low and strained, like he’s in pain almost.
You tuck the strands of hair that were getting picked up by the wind behind your ear. "How can I help you?" you ask.
"Y/N," he grunts out a pained laugh, and you click.
You hear shuffling on the other side of the line while he sits up against his headboard.
"Yes? What do you need?" You're not going to do the work for him, and he knew that. He felt pathetic even making the call in the first place.
He goes quiet for a moment, and you pull your phone from your ear to glance at the time. "It's only 8 pm, and you sound like you're already in bed."
Mingyu nods as if you could see him, "I am. I have been for a while," he admits before asking you how the game was. You know he didn't actually give a shit about the game, but you still entertain him and answer
He drags out the conversation for a few minutes, running his hand through his hair at your voice. He doesn't want to hear it through the phone; he wants to hear it in person. He wants you to be in his room right now, like you said you would be.
Mingyu hates how disinterested you sound. Mingyu also hates how that very disinterested tone makes his cock throb in his sweatpants. You couldn't care less about him, whereas all he's been doing since you canceled on him three hours ago is lay in bed and fucking think about you. He sighs before biting the bullet, "Are you still coming over?"
Your brows furrow slightly, "Oh, I thought I told you that I was—"
"Can you still come over?" He rephrases his question, "please?"
Your lips purse as you consider it for a second. You don't have any classes tomorrow, so you guess you could head to his later tonight.
You're about to respond when the sound of the door opening behind you causes you to turn around.
You watch as the wealthiest student in the entire university approaches you, now dressed in a plain black hoodie and a pair of joggers, running a towel through his wet hair. It no longer looks sweaty wet but instead shampooed wet, so you assume he had a quick shower. "Hey, you okay? Why are you out here in the cold?"
"One second," you say into the phone before lowering it and moving closer to Jungkook. He closes your fur coat tightly around you again as it comes open from the strong wind while he waits for your response.
"Came out here to take a call. Too loud in there."
He nods, throwing the towel over his shoulder. "'K. We're going to Hanji's to eat. Did you want to ride with me?"
You're about to agree without even thinking when you remember the boy waiting on the other end of the call.
"Ah," you mutter, lifting the phone back to your ear. "I'll come over at like 11?" you say to Mingyu, not catching the frown that coats Jungkook's lips.
Mingyu almost protests but knows that 11 is better than nothing and stops himself. "Sweet. Just text me if you need me to pick you up."
You thank him before saying your goodbyes and ending the call. You look up at your best friend, his gaze unfocused. "Can I?" you ask.
"Hmm?" he hums, blinking a few times before focusing on your face.
"Ride with you?"
"Yeah," he smiles down at you, letting you link your arm with his as he leads you back into the warm locker room.
˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗
Hanji's is loud. The clamor of sizzling grills and busy cooks no match for the chatter of students and customers that fill the room. You sip on an iced tea as your friends laugh and chat, still basking in tonight's victory.
Snug between your brother and Jungkook, you rest your head on the latter's shoulder, sipping your drink through a paper straw. His arm drapes over the back of the booth's chair, allowing you to settle comfortably as he chats with the swim team captain, Jin, who sits on the opposite side of the booth.
Your coat is folded on Jungkook's lap now that you're surrounded by the warm air of the diner, and his tattooed fingers play absentmindedly with the spaghetti strap of your top.
Taehyung leans over and snatches a dumpling from your untouched plate with his chopsticks, causing you to glance at him in faux annoyance. Your brother knows you don't actually care and flashes you a big, toothy grin which you can’t help but return.
You push the plate toward him, wordlessly telling him to have it all and his eyes light up for a split second before his brows furrow. "Why aren't you eating?" he asks concernedly, his words slightly muffled by a mouthful of food.
"Ate just before the game, I'm full," you reply, nodding when he asks if you're sure and watching him grab another dumpling.
Liar. Jungkook thinks as he watches Jin's mouth move but is unfocused on the words he's actually saying.
You don't eat before a link, a habit of yours Jungkook is very aware of, having asked you not to do it countless times before.
It's not that deep, you always tell him; you just don't enjoy sex much with a full stomach, it makes you feel sorta sick. And food always tastes better after sex anyway.
He glances down at you for a second, and you're already looking his way, your pretty eyes boring into his as if daring him to mention anything to your brother. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he turns away, attempting to hide his smile at your attitude.
Jin cracks a joke and glances at you for a reaction, prompting you to roll your eyes and laugh. He pumps his fist in the air triumphantly, earning a playful smack from his girlfriend.
Your friends are always like that—acting as if making you laugh is some monumental achievement. You're not a masochist; you don't avoid laughing on purpose. But you're rich, intelligent, and pretty... It takes a lot to impress you. Jungkook makes you laugh a lot though.
Seated next to Jin is his gorgeous high-school sweetheart, Mia, and next to her is your ever-so pouty housemate, Minji. You quietly observe Minji's gaze as it frequently drifts to the booth adjacent to yours, where Yoongi, his boyfriend Hobi, Jimin, and, most importantly, Namjoon are seated.
Minji sighs softly, snapping out of her daze as she looks down at her cider. Taehyung is laughing at something Jin said, leaning forward in front of you slightly to engage in conversation with the swimmer on the other side of the table. You take this moment to check on your friend.
Your head lifts off Jungkook's shoulder, and he resists the urge to turn and ask why, trying to stay focused on the story his Hyung is telling. You catch Minji's eye, offering her a small, questioning smile. She returns it as best she can before her expression morphs back into a troubled pout, and she shakes her head slightly.
You nod in understanding, tapping Jungkook's thigh as a signal that you'll be right back and ask Taehyung to let you out of the booth. Your brother stands, allowing you to shuffle out, and you grasp Minji's hand, tugging her along to the restroom.
Jungkook glances over, watching you usher Minji away from the table, and from the corner of his eye, he notices Namjoon looking over too.
Fifteen minutes go by, and you're reapplying Minji's mascara, which she cried off during her tearful spiel about her situationship.
"It's like h-he—" she pauses to hiccup, and you move the wand away to let her breathe, "—he just likes to mess with my fucking head! Every time we hook up he's all like 'Minjiiiiyahhh,'" you snicker at her imitation of his voice.
"’I can't get enough of you! I wanna do this forever!' but then when we're with everyone, it's like he's scared to even stand next to me! God, is he like, embarrassed of me or something?" She seethes, shaking her head in frustration.
You lift a tissue to her lash line, dabbing at the fresh tears brewing and scoff. "Embarrassed of you? Don't be ridiculous," you say, capping the mascara and sliding it back into her clutch, giving up on the rescue mission as the tears just keep coming.
"You are gorgeous," you turn your body to lean against the basin with her, linking her arm in yours. "Smart," you continue, resting your head on her shoulder. "Funny... sometimes," you tease, and she lets out a tearful giggle, her trembly hands curling around your arm as she snuggles into you in gratitude.
"God, I'm literally wearing his jersey. How pathetic." She laughs at herself, and your brows furrow slightly.
"How is that pathetic? I'm sure he wanted you to wear it, didn't he?"
"Well yeah... He was actually really cute when he asked if I would. He was all shy and shit. Fuck sakes," she groans in frustration, "it makes everything even more confusing!"
"Maybe he's just shy about showing affection in front of people? I mean, he is literally a computer science major..." You trail off and smile when she whines and wacks the arm of yours that she's leaning on.
"Seriously, though, don't cry over a guy, Min. And especially don't question your worth because of him." The bathroom falls silent except for her soft sniffles at your words.
You hand her the tissue that you're holding before adding, "You need to talk and set things straight with him, or you're just going to continue hurting." You internally scoff at the hypocrisy of your own words, but your roommate is none the wiser, nodding at you in agreement.
After a moment, she speaks quietly, "I wish I could be more like you."
"How so?" you ask, though you already have an inkling.
"You never get attached to the guys you hang with. I wish I could do that. It seems so much more freeing."
You hum half-heartedly in response, watching her dab at her eyes one last time before turning to wash her hands. Her words linger, echoing in your mind longer than they should. No, you don't get attached. Because you already know firsthand just how much it fucking sucks when the feelings aren't mutual.
˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗
It's 11:12 pm. The scent of your Chanel No. 5 lingers in the air, blending with Jungkook's soft hums to his car radio. The warm air from the heater makes your eyes droop slightly.
"You have a nice voice," you murmur, toying with the tattooed fingers resting on your stocking-clad thigh.
He glances at you briefly, a small smile playing on his lips. "You always say that," he replies, eyes returning to the road as he stops at a red light.
"Because it's true," you state simply. "Do you disagree?"
He laughs softly at your bluntness, a familiar flush creeping up his neck. "Maybe."
"Hm," you roll your eyes, lifting one of his fingers and letting it drop before repeating the motion with the others. "Whatever, golden boy."
"Ya," he chuckles, squeezing your thigh gently, "don't call me that."
You tilt your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "You let everyone else call you that."
His lips purse into a slight pout. "Not you."
You blink at him, the corner of your lips twitching into a smile at his big, boba eyes. He just keeps staring at you, letting you fiddle with his hand. After a few long moments, you giggle at his dazed-out expression. "Light's green, Gukkie."
He snaps out of it instantly, facing back toward the road, and his foot hits the gas pedal a little quicker than intended. That's better, he thinks.
A few minutes later, he turns into the familiar entrance of Yonsei University, steering the car down the path that leads to the Delta Sigma Phi fraternity house. As he pulls into a parking spot in front of the building, you're halfway through sending a text, so he waits for you to finish before cutting off the heater.
You lock your phone and glance up just as he extracts the keys from the ignition. He pats your thigh gently before climbing out of the car. You follow suit, rounding the vehicle to meet him by the driver's side.
Instinctively, he reaches for your hand, fingers entwining, and you rest your head against his arm as you both ascend the front steps to the frat.
The foyer is dark as Jungkook leads you inside. He maneuvers through the hall effortlessly, even without his sight. He guides you up the stairs to the second floor, your hands still locked together, and he turns to face you when you reach the door to his bedroom.
You look up at him with a dumb smile, and he leans down to bury his face in your neck before he says something dumber. His back presses against the door, and as you lean into him, the scent of his clean, linen hoodie fills your senses.
Jungkook's love language is physical touch, and you let him have his moment, keening slightly when he nudges the side of your neck with his pretty nose. YYour phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it, wanting to spend five more minutes with your best friend.
"Do you have class tomorrow?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to be heard by his housemates.
He doesn't say anything, just shakes his head wordlessly, his curls tickling your skin as he does.
"Movie tomorrow then?" you suggest softly, letting him lean back slightly to look at you.
The moment you see the flicker of guilt in his eyes, you know his response before he even forms the words. His pouty lips part, ready to offer an excuse when you squint your eyes and lean away from him.
"Jesus, Jeongguk." You groan, still keeping your voice low, but he can hear the annoyance loud and clear. "Why do you get all pouty and sad when you have other plans? It's okay."
Jungkook's eyebrows furrow. He edges forward, trying to maintain some form of physical contact, but you just shrug him off. "I already agreed to it last night. I'm sorry, Y/N."
You let out a frustrated sigh and roll your eyes. "Why are you fucking apologizing?" Your words have bite, but he doesn't react, simply leaning closer to you even though you continue to distance yourself.
You know you're overreacting in a sense, but every time he has plans with a girl, he always apologizes with that stupid fucking pout and those stupid fucking puppy dog eyes. And it's only when it's with another girl.
You weren't upset; you were well aware of his active sex life. It's like he expects you to burst into tears whenever he tells you he's seeing someone. Why the fuck would you care?
Jungkook reaches out to you in a last attempt to grab your hand, and you just stare at it, not making any move to accept the gesture. He sighs, letting his hand fall to his side while he looks at your pissed-off expression.
"Why?" You try again.
Jungkook's shoulders slump, and he looks down, avoiding your gaze. "I don't know," he responds softly. He barely catches the annoyance on your face fading, soon replaced with something that tugs at his heart even more—boredom.
"Okay then, Gukkie. Sleep well, we'll talk later," you say, nodding as you step closer to him. Your arms wrap around him in a quick hug, and before he can even react, you're walking down to the other end of the hall.
Jungkook's eyes stay focused on the ground, listening to your footsteps getting further away.
It's not until he hears a soft knock on his frat-mate's bedroom door and a fucked-out, "Shitttt, look at you," come from Mingyu that he scoffs, turning into his room and slamming the door behind him.
Thirty minutes pass, then an hour, then two, as Jungkook lies grumpily on his bed, glaring at his bedroom ceiling.
There was an unmistakable bang of a headboard against the wall down the hall at minute forty-five, followed quickly by your hushed voice telling Mingyu to keep it down. Jungkook hasn't been able to close his eyes since.
"Why are you fucking apologizing?"
Your words ring in his head as he tosses under his blanket uncomfortably, giving up before ripping it off his body a bit too aggressively, causing it to fall to the ground.
"I don't know."
Dirty fucking liar, his subconscious snickers.
Of course he knew. He's always fucking known. It's subconscious; the way he can't stop the apology from spewing from his lips every time.
He wants you to be upset. He wants you to get angry at him for sleeping with other girls. He wants you to ask him not to go.
But you don't. You never do. If anything, you encourage it. And there he is, apologizing like a fucking idiot for something that you don't even care about. Every time he sees that disinterested look in your eyes, it feels like a sour punch to the gut.
Jungkook's mind races as he tries to figure out why he keeps doing this to himself. Why he keeps hoping for a reaction that never comes. He thinks about the way you hugged him earlier, the fleeting moment of closeness before you walked away without a second thought. You're so good at that.
He rolls onto his side, trying for the nth time to close his eyes, the sounds of your muffled laughter and Mingyu's low murmurs mocking him through the thin walls.
Jungkook clenches his jaw, the frustration gnawing at him, a constant reminder of what he can't have. He wants to move on, to stop letting you have this power over him. He laughs at the thought.
˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗
Two days later, you're sitting in your afternoon Linguistics class, sandwiched between Jimin and Aerum. Why Jimin didn’t take the spot in the middle if he was going to let her sit near you guys, you’re un-fucking-sure.
Aerum isn't part of your inner circle, but she likes hanging around. You know her type—fake and a gossip. She attempts to make small talk with you throughout the class, but your answers are curt and disinterested.
"—even surprised? As if Jeongguk hasn't slept his way through half the campus already." Aerum giggles, twirling a strand of her hair. That gets your attention.
You don't even look up from your notebook, continuing to jot down what the professor says. "Don't talk about him like that," you say, your tone flat, causing Aerum to falter for a second.
She nervously chuckles, "It's not a secret he gets around, Y/N. You know that..."
Unamused, you finish off your notes, letting her brew for a second, before finally lifting your gaze. You lean in a little, and Aerum shuffles closer as if you were about to let her in on some juicy tea.
"I don't care if he took your mother over the kitchen counter and made you watch." Aerum's lips part at your words, leaning back slightly in shock. "Don't talk about him like that. Matter of fact, don't talk about him at all."
She malfunctions for a second before nodding dazedly, quickly turning to face the front of the class for the first time today. You return to your notebook uninterestedly as Jimin lets out a loud snort, leaning over to hide his face in your shoulder.
The class continues without further interruptions, and when the professor finally wraps it up, you begin putting your things away. Jimin holds your bag for you like he always does as you make your way out of the classroom. Aerum follows behind like a kicked puppy.
With no more classes for the day, you and Jimin had planned to go to the campus café for a study date. Much to your dismay, Jimin had invited Aerum when she overheard you talking about it at the beginning of Linguistics. Jimin is kind to everyone, a trait of his that you somewhat admire, but in this case, it just made you want to slam his laptop shut over his fingers.
Once you reach the café, you find an empty table at the back while Jimin goes to the counter to order your usual drinks, Aerum trailing behind him quietly.
As you set your things down, you notice your phone at the top of your bag. You pick it up, deciding to text Jungkook because you haven't seen him in a couple of days, and you miss him. Maybe he can come study.
It's as if the universe heard your thoughts because suddenly, you feel a pair of sturdy arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a broad chest. You smile when his familiar cologne reaches your nose and quickly spin around to pull him down into a proper hug.
"I was literally just about to text you," you tell him as he snuggles into your neck.
"You studying?" he murmurs into your skin, his warm breath tickling you slightly.
"Mhm, with Jiminie and Aerum," you reply, leaning back slightly. He scrunches his nose in protest when you pull away but lets you go.
"Cool, I could use a break," he says, his eyes twinkling as he takes a seat next to you, casually slinging his arm over the back of your chair.
"Where were you heading?" you ask as you both settle down, and he helps you spread out your supplies.
"Just dropping some gear off to coach on campus. Saw you through the window," his gaze flickers over your outfit before he smiles softly. "You look pretty."
You smile cutely at the compliment, and his heart skips a beat.
Jungkook suppresses a sigh. You look so sweet in your white cashmere sweater and creamy plaid Burberry skirt, but the way your body fills it out is anything but. Not a single hair out of place, you look sinfully and irrevocably perfect.
Jimin returns with the drinks and almost gets a fright from the lacrosse captain. "Hey, Kook," he says with a grin, handing you your iced coffee.
Aerum, holding her drink, looks slightly flustered but tries to mask it with a smile. "Hi, Jungkook," she says, her voice a little too sweet.
Jungkook nods at her politely before turning his attention back to you. "What subject?" He leans over to grab your textbook, and before you can answer, Aerum takes a seat and chimes in.
"Linguistics," she smiles, and Jungkook nods while flipping through the textbook.
You're logging into Jimin's laptop while he licks the whipped cream from the top of his frappe like a cat. You snort at the blonde before opening the shared doc that he and you have. You're begin to scroll through the pages, trying to find where you left off last time, but the sound of Aerum's continuous pestering distracts you.
"—again tonight or something?" You only catch the end of her sentence, but by the flirty tone she's only just now using, you assume she's speaking to Jungkook.
"Aish, Aerum…" Jungkook laughs awkwardly, flicking through the pages of your textbook as if it would somehow teleport him away from the situation.
"Yeah, yeah, I know you don't do round 2's. Make an exception? For me?" She pouts cutely, and even Jimin can't resist the urge to cringe into his cup.
Jungkook looks over at you for a moment; whether it's for help or a reaction, he doesn't know, but he's not surprised when you don't even look up from the laptop. Just continuing to scroll through your document.
He can't even stop the words from coming out before he says them, "Yeah, okay."
Jimin's brows furrow in surprise. You keep scrolling.
"Yeah?" Aerum can't hide the surprise in her own voice, giddy nonetheless.
"Yeah." He nods at her, looking down at your textbook, wishing it would telepathically lift up and knock him out cold.
An hour flies by, during which you and Jimin make significant progress on the paper, having already completed a quarter of it.
Aerum, however, proves to be an absolute dead weight, giving weak half-assed responses whenever Jimin tries to involve her in the research. Her focus is solely on flirting with Jungkook.
If she even thinks of attempting to slip her greasy little name on this project once you and Jimin are done, you'll take great satisfaction in bringing her back down to reality.
You finish typing a sentence on Jimin's laptop before locking it and giving him a look. He understands immediately and stands up to pack his things wordlessly.
You're beyond irritated—not because Jungkook and Aerum are practically on the verge of fucking right on top of the café table, but because they're doing it while you're trying to work. Frustrated and disgusted, you uncharacteristically bite your tongue and sling your bag over your shoulder.
"You're leaving?" Jungkook's head snaps to you the moment he notices you standing up, and he follows suit, Aerum tagging along behind him.
"Yep," you nod, grabbing Jimin's arm when he extends it to you and heading for the café exit.
"Are you—shit," Jungkook stutters, jogging slightly to catch up to you, Aerum trailing behind him. "Are you guys doing anything tonight?"
You almost roll your fucking eyes, but Jimin responds with a neutral expression, "Yeah, Kook… the DSP gather? We planned it last week?"
"Fuck," Jungkook coughs out, "Yeah, no, I remember."
You continue walking back towards the main campus where Jimin's car is parked, with Jungkook and Aerum not far behind. When you reach Jimin's Audi, you detach from his arm and head for the passenger seat, Jungkook meeting you at the door.
"Did you still want me to pick you up?" he asks softly, watching you adjust your bag strap over your shoulder in boredom while you wait for Jimin to unlock the car.
“No, that’s okay, Guk. I'll come over with Minji. She's on a drinking cleanse after the Feb blackout, so she can drive," you smile, leaning up to give him a quick goodbye hug.
He leans into it, but you don't let him linger, pulling away as soon as you hear the sound of the car unlocking. You go to open the door and climb in, but he gently puts his hand against it to stop you.
"Are you okay? Can you talk to me, please?" he lowers his voice so no one can hear.
Jimin takes the hint and awkwardly gets into the car, telling Aerum to hop in the back and he'll drop her home. She looks at Jungkook for a long moment before reluctantly getting in.
Jungkook's big, worried, boba eyes make you want to both scoff and run your hand over his face until they ease up.
"What do you mean, Gukkie? Just don't want you to go out of your way. You live there, so there's no point in you driving to get me."
Huh? He's picked you up for every single frat party they hold. He doesn't mind. He insists on driving you. He loves driving you! What the fuck?
Jungkook lets his hand fall from the door in resignation, and his heart clenches at the speed in which you pull the handle to open it, like you couldn't wait to get away from him. He somberly takes a step back from the car to let you get in.
You sigh when you glance back at his scrunched eyebrows and pouty lips. You place your bag on the seat and shut the door with a groan before walking back to your sulky best friend.
His response is immediate. His arms link around your waist when you lean into him, his head nestling into your neck where it belongs. Your nails lightly scratch against his polo, and he squeezes you a little tighter.
"I want to pick you up," he says softly. You run your hands down his arms, grabbing them where they link behind your waist. You give them a squeeze as you gently untangle yourself from him.
"I'm riding with Minji. I'll see you tonight, Gukkie." He watches you walk back to Jimin's car and finally get in.
Aerum's eyes are on Jungkook as Jimin pulls out of the campus parking lot. Jungkook's are on you.
˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗
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You weren't always as unbothered as you are today at the age of 21.
Maybe it was maturing, maybe it was the pilates sessions you take twice a week, or maybe it was because a particular situation made you vow to yourself you'd never go through that pain again. Well, whatever it was that made you so emotionally detached, you're grateful for it. You're young, gorgeous, and you have a fruitful and prosperous life on the horizon.
Fun is good. Feelings are not.
You shake your head to get yourself out of your thoughts—the thoughts you don't know why are suddenly floating around in your messy little brain—and yell out to your roommate for a favor.
Park Minji and you share a two-bedroom penthouse on the top floor of Kim Marriott, the Seodaemun-gu branch of your parents' luxury 5-star hotel chain.
Taehyung was supposed to move in with you during your first year, but when he was appointed Frat President, he chose to stay on-site at Delta Sigma Phi. What a humble boy… you couldn't think of anything worse.
He dragged Jungkook along with him, and you dragged Minji along with you, so everything worked out great. Minji is a lot tidier than your brother, anyway.
You're rummaging through your closet for the shoes you swore you had stored there after your last shopping trip when Minji waltzes into your room, holding the box you've been hunting for.
"These ones, right? They were on the kitchen counter, among all your other unopened packages..." She rolls her eyes teasingly.
"Oh yes! Fuck, I love you," you cry, walking up to the blonde and pulling the heels from the box she holds open for you.
"They're so pretty," she compliments before closing the box and tossing it in the living room to throw away later. She looks back at you as you head to your full-length mirror, slipping on the shoes.
"Jesus, Y/N." Minji groans, and you hum in question, eyeing her through the mirror.
"You look so good, what the fuck..." she whines, walking closer to you and standing side by side in the mirror to check on her outfit as well.
The white bodycon mini-dress hugs your body nicely, its low neckline no match for your bigger-than-average tits as the fabric clings to them for dear life. The white-gold Cartier necklace Jungkook gifted you rests prettily on your chest, just like it always has ever since the night he clasped it around your neck.
2 years prior—circa. your 19th birthday
"Get fucked, Jeongguk." The words rip from your throat, venomous and sharp as they slap your best friend's face into a furrowed, exasperated expression.
You yank the jacket tighter around your shoulders as the cold night air whips at your skin, storming down the sidewalk. The urge to rip the jacket—his jacket—off your body is strong, but it's so fucking cold. You may be petty and possibly overreacting a little right now... but you're not stupid.
Jungkook's heavy footsteps trail after you, his calls of your name only pushing you to walk faster. He catches up in no time, your hurried steps no match for his long strides. He tries to gently grab your arm, but you shrug off his touch angrily, spinning around to glare at him. You're about to tell him to fuck off again when he speaks first.
"Come back inside. It's like a fucking blizzard out here; you're going to freeze to death," he says evenly, though frustration laces his words.
"Oh, please," you laugh humorlessly, shaking your head in disbelief. "As if you give a shit if I freeze."
"Don't fucking say—"
"I'm going home. You can tell everyone I'm sick and had to leave. Or don't, I don't fucking care." You turn away and start walking again, his footsteps immediately following.
"You're walking home?" You ignore his question, causing him to huff and run a hand through his hair. "Let me drive you home, please."
You ignore him again, knowing that if there's something Jungkook can't stand more than you yelling at him, it's you not speaking to him.
"Stop doing this. It's your birthday; don't let it end like this—"
"Yes, Jeongguk, it's my birthday," you seethe, whipping back around. "And you brought a random chick none of us even know to my birthday dinner. And you didn't even bother to get me a gift. On. My fucking. Birthday."
"Y/N—"
"Limited edition PlayStation, imported Swedish lacrosse stick, custom painted iPad from your favorite local fucking artist," you list the gifts you've gotten him for his birthday over the years angrily. Jungkook shakes his head, trying to step closer to you, but you hold up your hand to keep the distance.
"Do you even know how much effort I put into the things I get and do for you? And for you to sit there with that... that stupid fucking look on your—God, Jeongguk!" Your voice is on the cusp of being a whine, but you don't care. "Oh, but I'm sure you spent a decent chunk of Daddy's money on Winnie tonight, huh?" You don't care that the Daddy's money statement is also very applicable to you… you're pissed.
Jungkook's jaw clenches at your words, and he steps forward, slipping his hand into the pocket of the jacket you're wearing. Before you can snap at him again, he pulls out a small velvet box and holds it out to you.
"What is that?" you demand, your voice still trembling with annoyance.
"Your gift," he says softly, opening the box to reveal a white-gold Cartier diamond necklace. "I was planning to give it to you when we were in private."
You stare at the necklace, your anger momentarily overshadowed by surprise. The diamonds of the pendant sparkle under the streetlights, and you almost let out a moan. Diamonds are your weakness.
"You motherfucker," you groan under your breath, glaring at the necklace in hopes it will dissipate into thin air so you can continue being annoyed at him.
Jungkook steps closer, his voice a whisper. "Everyone was coming with their partners, Y/N. I couldn't come alone."
You sigh, knowing that. Your comment was a cheap shot, considering Jungkook doesn't hang with a girl more than once, so it would be impossible for him to bring someone you already knew. But Winnie was getting on your last nerve, and you saw an opportunity to sneak in a jab, so you took it.
Not only was his date clearing glass after glass of the expensive wine your friends had ordered as if it were water, but she was also not shy about ordering the priciest dishes on the menu. Judging by her tiny red Zara mini-dress, you highly doubt she'll be reaching for her purse at the end of the night.
Your gaze is still locked on the necklace as you take a moment to think. Jungkook hasn't moved either, continuing to hold the box open for you while he scans your face, trying to gauge your reaction.
"It's, um, engraved and shit," he mumbles, his hand not holding the box lifting to run over his jaw nervously. "And I got a chain one… for me too."
Your eyes snap to his, and he swears his heart stops beating. God, you think it's stupid. You hate it. That's okay. He'll just wait until you turn around so he can sprint to the nearest homeless guy and give him the stupid neckl—
"Like matching?" Your eyes soften, and he slowly feels the blood flooding into his heart.
"Yeah, only if you like, want to," he shrugs cutely, and you can't stop the grin from spreading across your lips.
You're close enough to slide your arms around his torso but still not near enough for Jungkook as he tugs you closer, melting into the hug. "Thank you, Gukkie. I love it," you murmur into his chest, and he feels his muscles relax at you finally using his nickname again.
You lift your head from his black fitted Givenchy dress shirt, which smells a little too good, to look up at him. "But why did you say you didn't have anything when everyone gave me their gifts?"
He looks down at the slight pout on your lips, his fingers twitching with the urge to wipe it off your mouth. Instead, he flicks the box closed with a thumb and holds it out to you. "Don't think Jaehyun would've been too thrilled with me giving you this," he chuckles. "The dude hates me."
You frown up at him, about to chime in and say that isn't true, but his lips tug into a smirk as if to say he couldn't care less about what your boyfriend thought of him. And honestly, if he were Jaehyun, he'd hate him too.
Jungkook had the necklaces made a little over two months ago, and you and Jaehyun have only been official for one. So, Jungkook's intentions behind the gift weren't malicious, he swears…
If you just so happen to wear the necklace and your boyfriend notices his matching one, which then causes a rift in your relationship, resulting in the two of you breaking up… well, that would just be a nice little coincidence.
"Jae knows you and I are close," you explain with a crease in your brow that he wants to massage until it goes away. "I made it very clear to him when he wanted to get serious, and he understood."
Jungkook nods along to your words even if he doesn't fully believe them. Either Jaehyun is a really good and secure guy, or he's full of grade-A horse shit. If you were his and another dude tried to come along and buy you an eleven-thousand-dollar necklace? Fuck, he'd knock the guy out cold.
You untangle yourself from your best friend and lift the lid of the velvet box still in his grasp. You coo at the pretty diamonds before turning to face away from Jungkook.
You gather your hair before swiping it over your shoulder and letting his jacket fall slightly to bare your neck. Jungkook reacts immediately, picking up the necklace before shoving the box in his pocket. His cold fingers brush against you as he carefully fastens the jewelry around your neck.
When he pulls away, you let your hair fall back into place and turn around to face him again. Your smile is soft, eyes twinkling as you look down at the necklace. "It's so pretty, Gukkie. I love it."
You're so pretty. I love you, he thinks.
With a sigh, you glance at yourself in the mirror, taking in one of the most casual party outfits you've worn in a while—well, to your standards, at least. For some reason, you just don't feel entirely up for it tonight. Something feels off in your stomach. Or your head. You're not sure. You're probably just getting sick or something.
After slipping into the heels, you stand up straight and smush a kiss on the girl's cheek, smiling at the mark your lip gloss leaves on her face. "Ya, I just did my makeup," she gasps, leaning closer to your mirror to dab off the glossy residue.
You pat her bum gently. "You look gorgeous, Min. Gonna have Joon in tears tonight."
"If he even looks at me," she rolls her eyes, adjusting the strap of her Miu Miu dress in the mirror.
"You haven't talked to him yet?" You ask as you apply your perfume, and she turns to look at you with guilty eyes.
"No," she sighs, "I will tonight."
"Good," you smile, resting the perfume bottle back on your dresser before grabbing your phone and holding your hand out to her.
She interlocks her fingers with yours as you both leave the suite, the sinking feeling in your stomach never fading.
˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗
Welp, there goes your ride home.
You watch in amusement as your roommate throws back her fourth jello shot of the night, washing it down with a gulp of beer.
You don't blame Minji for breaking her sobriety, especially after the first thing you both saw upon walking through the doors of Delta Sigma Phi was Namjoon leaning against the foyer wall with another girl in his arms. While they weren't official official, Minji loves really hard. And you think Namjoon knew that.
Needless to say, Minji instantly grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the kitchen, where mountains of various alcohol bottles covered the counter.
Minji's not an alcoholic by any means, but she, just like her twin brother, are quick to take it down and even quicker to bring it back up.
A few months ago, during the Autumn fraternity vs. sorority fundraiser, she got so drunk that she blacked out going down the soapy slip-and-slide.
You and Jungkook—well, mostly Jungkook—carried her all the way to his car. Since he was a sober monitor for Delta Sigma Phi, he drove you both home. He ended up staying at your place for the rest of the night while you slowly sipped on strawberry soju and watched Netflix, checking on Minji every so often.
She hasn't had a drink since that night, so her tolerance is probably super low. But that doesn't stop her from handing you a raspberry jello shot before grabbing another from the table and sucking it down like someone might take it from her.
You giggle, gently wiping away the pink droplet of liquid trailing down the corner of her lip with your thumb. She offers you a dazed smile, her eyes hooded, the effects of the alcohol clearly weaving through her system.
"You okay, Min?"
She beams back at you, a little spark lighting up her glossy eyes, "Mhm. Just wanna have fun tonight."
"Okay," you respond softly, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen across her face.
Her head suddenly snaps to the living room. "Oooh, they're playing spin the bottle! Let's go playyy!" Minji gasps, tapping your arm excitedly.
You glance at the game that caught her attention and scan the players. There are a few of your friends, mixed with other people from school whose names you couldn't remember if someone held a gun to your head.
You pat Minji's hand, which was still tapping your arm, telling her to go play and stay close to Yoongi and Hobi. She nods, rushing over to the game with a big smile and plopping down between your friends.
You look down at the jello shot you're still yet to ingest and put it back on the table. Grabbing a solo cup, you pour some cranberry juice into it, glancing at the types of vodkas on display. Your nose scrunches at the cheap brands, your manicured nail tapping the side of the cup in thought before you remember something.
Cup in hand, you make your way to the cupboard below the kitchen sink and pull it open, smiling in triumph as you spot the object of your desire at the back of the cabinet. Bending down, you reach for the bottle quickly before anyone notices you.
"That's off limits."
The familiar smell of his cologne floods your senses before you process his words. You straighten up with a small smile, resting your cup on the counter and turning to face the boy with the pricey bottle of vodka in your hands.
"Even to me?" Your lips pull into a knowing pout, and Jungkook has to force his gaze away from them. Instead, his eyes trail over your outfit, which, in hindsight, was an even dumber idea.
His breath hitches in his fucking throat at the sight of your dress, doing nothing to support your boobs that threaten to spill from the pretty little white fabric. The knot in the noose, though, is the necklace he gifted you on your nineteenth birthday, resting innocently between the valley of your anything-but-innocent tits.
He shakes his head, the corner of his lips tugging upwards slightly as he steps closer to you. You fiddle with the bottle cap while he closes the distance, giving you a moment to drink in how effortlessly his arms fill out his white box-tee.
"No," he says softly, almost laughing at the thought of ever denying you something. "Not you." He takes his bottle of Belvedere from your grasp and unscrews the cap.
You rest against the kitchen sink as your best friend, now less than an inch from your body, reaches around you to grab your cup from the counter. He doesn't say anything as he pours the vodka into the cup, using his familiarity with your favorite drink to know when to stop. Your finger lightly traces over the tattoos spilling from his right sleeve absentmindedly, and he should tell you to stop, or he might drop the cup. But he doesn't.
Once he deems there's enough alcohol in the mix, he lifts the cup to his lips to take a sip. You wait patiently, letting him do his little lip purse before splashing a bit more vodka into the cup and holding it out to you. You take it with a grateful smile, bringing the drink to your lips to taste it as he leans over to get a solo cup of his own. You almost groan when the vodka cranberry hits your tongue. Obviously, it's perfect. He’s annoying like that.
Once Jungkook finishes mixing his drink, he takes a mouthful before returning to you. He catches the way your gaze is fixed on the ground, distraction clouding your eyes, cup resting against your lips as you get lost in your head.
You snap out of it almost instantly when he gets closer to you, putting the cup down next to you so you can slink your arms around his neck when he leans down. But before he allows the feeling of you against his body to make him forget every thought inside his brain, he speaks.
"What's wrong?" he murmurs into the skin of your neck, blindly putting his cup on the counter behind you so he can slip his hands around your waist.
You're quiet for a moment, and if it wasn't for the slight stutter in your fingers playing with the clasp of his Cartier chain, he would think you didn't hear him. He doesn't repeat his question, though, knowing you will answer him in your own time. And even if you don't, that's okay too. But he just won't leave your side the entire night if you're feeling vulnerable.
Yeah, nice excuse for not wanting to leave her alone; his subconscious laughs viciously at him. Jungkook ignores it by burying his face into your neck further.
Your fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck while you take a deep breath, the calming scent of him grounding you. "I don't know," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.
He tightens his hold on you, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back. "Are you getting sick?"
"Yeah, probably. I've just had this weird feel—"
"Kookie, there you are! I thought you got lost getting my drink—oh, hi, Y/N!"
Jungkook stiffens before he lifts himself from you slightly at the sound of Aerum's voice.
You untangle your hand from his hair, poking your head around the side of his large frame to look at the girl strutting into the kitchen. She's pretty, you think as you give her outfit a once-over. If only she wasn't such an insufferable phony, maybe you'd be a little warmer towards her. Maybe.
"Hey, Aerum," you greet uninterestedly, leaning away from Jungkook and ignoring the way he tries to keep you near him.
Lost in his own house? You internally roll your eyes. Why even bother saying something so stupid—
"Is it this one?" she smiles once she reaches you both, grabbing your cup from the counter and taking a sip. "Oh wow, Kookie, it's so good! Is it vodka? Shit, what brand is this?" Aerum squeaks as she takes another sip of your drink.
Jungkook's lips part as he's about to say something about the drink, but you reply with a bored expression, "Belvedere."
Aerum lets out a confused hum as you name the $300 bottle of alcohol. "Huh. I've never heard of it."
You nod, grabbing a bottle of cheap beer as you brush past her to leave the kitchen. "Exactly."
Jungkook and Aerum's hushed conversation fades into the background as you move further away. You reach the living room, where Minji is giggling between Hobi and Yoongi. She grins widely when she sees you enter the room. "Jagi! Come and play!"
You laugh at your roommate, who now has two more empty Jello shot cups and a bottle of cider beside her, which explains the affectionate nickname.
Once you reach the circle, Yoongi and Hobi lean up to give you a hug in greeting before you smush a kiss on Minji's forehead. "Maybe later, jagi. Have you seen our brothers?”
“Mhm! They went outside for a smoke!” She replies distractedly as she’s staring intently at the bottle spinning in the middle of the circle.
You run a hand gently over her hair before turning to Yoongi. Since he’s sober D for his boyfriend tonight, you ask if he can keep an eye on her while they finish their game and if she needs to go home or gets too much to handle, to come and tell you.
Yoongi nods at you with a smile, and you return it before spotting a familiar head of black hair peeking over the back of the couch on the other side of the room.
Approaching the couch quietly, you softly put your beer on the ground before leaning over and covering his eyes with your hands. Mingyu flinches at the unexpected contact, his phone falling from his hands to his lap, but then relaxes as if something clicks.
His warm hands come up to yours, removing them from his eyes before he turns to you with a stunned smile. He takes you in for a second before shaking his head and leaning up on the couch.
You're about to give him a hug but he suddenly wraps his arms around your body, easily pulling you over the couch and laying you down beneath him. You squeal loudly in surprise before it's replaced by soft giggles as Mingyu attacks your neck with kisses, peppering them over every inch of skin he can find.
You draw a breath when there's a slight break in his assault and gesture to your heels digging uncomfortably into the couch. He leans back immediately and pulls them off your feet, placing them on the coffee table with haste that makes you laugh.
Turning back, he lowers his frame to you, your legs subconsciously separating to let him press closer, and he resumes his work on your neck. His kisses move lower, and you let out a sigh at the feeling before he reaches the exposed skin of side-boob peeking from your dress. You let out a quick gasp, grabbing his face with your hands and pulling him up to your face.
He grins at you cheekily, knowing he wouldn't get far but can't find it in himself to regret the action. "Was wondering when you'd get here," he says softly, his voice filled with affection. Your pouty fucking lips covered in that pretty fucking lip gloss distracts him for a moment, and he breathes a dazed sigh, leaning down to rest his face on your chest.
You blame it on the alcohol when the sick feeling in your stomach suddenly returns at the touch of Mingyu's skin on yours.
You blame it on the alcohol when all you can think about as you run your fingers through Mingyu's hair is how it's not as soft as Jungkook's.
You blame it on the alcohol when you let Mingyu snuggle closer into your neck in hopes that you'll feel the same warm sensation as when Jungkook does it.
The nausea, the thoughts of your best friend while you have a gorgeous man on top of you, the pounding in your head as his lips get closer and closer to your necklace. You blame all of it on the alcohol.
The one single sip of fucking alcohol you've consumed tonight.
"Can you pass me my beer, please?" You choke out as his lips are a millimeter away from reaching the skin where your necklace sits.
Mingyu pulls back with a smile, and you almost want to frown at the sweet boy. He deserves so much better. "It's just on the ground over there," you point to the back of the couch, and he nods, leaning over and grabbing your drink.
You release a heavy breath while you play with the hem of his dress shirt when something catches your attention from the corner of your eye. Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric.
There, leaning with his back against the living room wall, is your best friend with Aerum's lips attached to his neck like a blowfish. Jungkook's brows are furrowed, most likely in pleasure, and his eyes are squeezed shut.
Another wave of the sick feeling washes over you, and you almost let out a frustrated grunt. What the actual fuck is going on with you?
Mingyu leans back on the couch, now with your beer in his hand. Before he can open the cap for you, you snatch it from his hand and toss it to the carpet carelessly. He looks at you curiously, about to ask you what's wrong, but you sit up and swing your leg over his thigh, effectively lodging the words in his throat.
His brows shoot up in surprise before he catches on, his hands finding your waist when you don't waste time pressing your lips to his. Mingyu groans into your mouth when you suckle on his tongue lightly, starting to move against him. Your dress begins to ride up with your movements and deepen the kiss while simultaneously grinding harder into his lap. You can feel him getting harder through the fabric of his jeans, and you zone in on it.
Squeezing your eyes closed tighter to focus, you drag yourself over his covered cock, letting the zipper of his pants graze against your panties. Mingyu detaches from your lips at the sensation, his head throwing back onto the couch as his breathing picks up.
Your hands rest against his chest as you swivel your hips quicker, trying everything you can to spark something in you. Mingyu chokes out a strained fuck when you find the outline of his shaft and let the lips of your covered pussy drag along it.
Nothing. You feel nothing. What the fucking fuck.
Mingyu, on the other hand, is losing himself. His head is still thrown back in pleasure, and you take the opportunity to lean forward and latch your lips to his neck. Your teeth nibble at the skin below his jaw, and he shivers at the action, his hands losing grip on your waist and falling to the swell of your ass. Your movements still haven't relented, grinding against him like you're the only two in the room, and Mingyu doesn't want to admit just how fucking close he is.
He's about to suggest that you guys take it to his room when he feels one of your hands trail down from his chest. His head lifts up to see what you're going to do next, and god, he wishes he didn't, because when you cover the hand of his that's loosely resting on your left asscheek and squeeze? He almost cums in his fucking pants like a teenage boy that just discovered the wonders of third base.
Mingyu does as you wish, grabbing a greedy handful of the flesh with his left hand and uses his right to slide up the back of your neck, returning your mouth to his. You fall into the kiss willingly, letting him lick into your mouth. Letting him take whatever he wants. Mingyu has always been a good kisser. Not even a week ago, he had you dripping from a 10-minute make-out session on his bed. But right now, something inside you tells you that even if you went at it for an hour, it still wouldn't be enough.
You push the sadistic thoughts from your brain and tangle your hands in his hair, nodding against his lips when his hand on your neck drops to your other asscheek and squeezes tightly.
Yes, you think. Touch me. Anywhere. Everywhere. Something is bound to—
"What the fuck?"
Your lips immediately detach from Mingyu's at the sound of the familiar voice booming behind you. You adjust the front of your clothes, which have twisted out of place, and quickly climb off Mingyu's lap. Pulling down the hem of the dress that also rode up a few minutes ago, you blink guiltily at the man staring at you with a disturbed look.
"On my couch? That's disgusting. Take it upstairs or take it to your place, Y/N." Taehyung grits, shaking his head as if it would somehow rid the image of you mounting his frat-mate from his memory.
"Sorry, Tae," you reply to your brother with a purse of your lips before getting over it and looking around for your phone that fell from the pocket of your cover-up.
Mingyu is speechless, gawking at his frat president in horror, not knowing what to say or do. He watches as you finally find the phone wedged between the couch cushions before you lean back onto his chest and scroll through your notifications, un-fucking-concerned.
Mingyu chokes on air, gently lifting you off him and sitting you back up on the seat properly. You give him a confused look, and he returns your gaze with a panicked expression, glancing between you and your brother, who is still standing there glaring at him.
You roll your eyes, lifting Mingyu's arm and throwing it over your shoulder, returning to your previous position. "Don't take him seriously, Gyu. I can't even recall how many times I've accidentally walked in on him and my own friends from high school. And they were doing a lot more than dry humping."
The fact that you aren't bothered helps Mingyu to calm down a bit, but he's still on edge with your brother staring him down.
You glance up at Mingyu when his chest remains stiff beneath your head, and you sigh before turning to your brother. "Tae, you're scaring him. We won't do anything else on your couch, okay? Now shoo, please." You wave him off with your hand.
Your brother just rolls his eyes, looking a little too much like you for your liking, before he nods and says he'll return to patrol the room in 30 minutes.
You watch Taehyung disappear behind the door frame as he heads into another room, and you turn to Mingyu with a teasing grin. "30 minutes? We could be done twice in that time…"
His eyes widen, and he gives another pathetic attempt at suggesting you go upstairs, but when you press your lips to his, the words fizzle out on his tongue as you entwine it with your own.
Jungkook is fucking fuming.
He's absolutely clocked out of the make-out session with Aerum, and she can probably tell that his mind is elsewhere, but he can't bring himself to care, and she makes no move to pull away either.
He feels her getting angsty, desperately wanting to escalate the situation from the way she's pressing harder against him, but Jungkook keeps the pace steady.
He needs to stay in the living room to keep an eye on you because you're obviously not in the right state of mind right now. You're not drunk; he knows what you look like when you've been drinking, and you're basically stone-cold fucking sober. But yet, there you are, one layer away from riding his housemate's cock on his very own fucking couch.
Jungkook would have intervened a long time ago, had he not seen with his own eyes that you were the one initiating every part of the act.
With every swivel of your hips, Jungkook’s heart pounded furiously against his chest. It clenched with every firm squeeze Mingyu placed on your ass, and it shattered completely as you nuzzled into Mingyu’s neck, kissing and nipping at it, just like you did to him in his dreams most nights.
He can’t tear his gaze away. He’s tried—oh, how he’s fucking tried.
He attempted to focus on the pretty girl currently whimpering into his mouth, begging him to touch her, to take her right there in the middle of the room if he so desired. But he couldn’t. His eyes were uncontrollably drawn back to you, to the way Mingyu’s hips lifted to meet yours, each movement a sharp twist to the knife lodged in his pathetic heart.
"Shit," Mingyu groans when the curve of his cock straining against his jeans meets your covered core. "We needa go upstairs, or I'm gonna take you right here on the couch, Y/N."
Your laugh comes out breathy from the frantic movements of your hips as you ignore him, and you lean up so his face can nuzzle between your tits. Your boobs are very sensitive, and that usually does the trick to turn you on.
Why. Isn't. It. Turning. You. On.
You let out a frustrated groan that Mingyu mistakes as a moan of pleasure as he leaves wet kisses against the exposed skin of your tits before he reaches the necklace that's wedged between them. "Fuck, I love this. It's so pretty but looks so dirty on you."
Your skin suddenly fires up at his words, and you feel your hips stutter slightly. "Yeah?" you question in a rush, grinding harder against him to chase the feeling.
"Mhm," he nods, brushing his nose over the pendant.
"Bite it."
He looks up at you, his gaze locking with yours filled with a hunger that hadn't been present all night.
"Bite it?" he repeats, his voice a mix of confusion and intrigue, hips meeting yours halfway as your movements become sloppier, more desperate.
Your head tilts as you nod desperately, "Please bite it."
Mingyu's eyes flicker down to your chest, and he leans in, his lips grazing the skin near your necklace. Your breath catches as he nears the pendant with its two little conjoined rings. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, suppressing the whine that threatens to escape.
He plants a lingering kiss on the surrounding flesh before finally catching the pendant between his teeth. You can't hold back the loud moan that escapes your lips—
It happens in the blink of an eye.
You tumble onto the couch cushions as Mingyu is abruptly yanked away and thrown to the living room floor.
You watch in shock as Jungkook pounces on him instantly, Mingyu barely having a moment to react before Jungkook's fist comes crashing down. It connects with Mingyu's jaw with a sickening crunch that reverberates through the room, drawing the attention of a few partygoers.
Mingyu attempts a recovery, throwing a jab that snaps Jungkook's head to the side, but Jungkook quickly regains his focus. He reels his fist back and hammers another brutal punch into Mingyu's face, then another, then another, then another.
Jungkook doesn't know how many punches he's thrown, or how long he's been on top of his housemate, or whose arms grab him from behind to pull him off Mingyu.
His breathing comes in ragged gasps, his knuckles sting with a throbbing pain, and a fierce rage burns through his veins, consuming him entirely. Adrenaline surges through him as he watches Yoongi and Hobi lift a bloodied, struggling Mingyu off the ground.
"What the fuck, Kook?" Taehyung's voice snaps him out of his daze as he and Jimin drag him to his feet.
You remain frozen on the couch, not shifting an inch. Your gaze is fixed on Mingyu as a cluster of people surround him. One person carefully presses a damp rag against his bloodied face while he leans heavily against the wall, another extends a bottle of water towards his shaking hands.
From the grasp of your brother, Jungkook's eyes follow you as you rise and weave through the crowd around Mingyu.
His heart clenches as he watches the pained expression on your face, the saddest he's ever seen. He watches as you whisper something to Mingyu, who shakes his head weakly and reaches out to pull you closer. Instead, you gently grasp his hand, stroking his knuckles with your thumb as tears start to pool in your eyes.
He sees the moment you utter one final word to Mingyu before you let his hand drop softly to his side and walk away
You return to the coffee table, grabbing your shoes and phone before immediately heading for the exit. You spot Minji, who has tears flowing down her cheeks, and she breaks from Yoongi's hold before pulling you into the tightest hug she can muster.
"Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay? What the fuck was that?!" she cries into your shoulder. You almost smile, knowing her emotions always spill over when she's been drinking, but you couldn't muster one even if you tried. Gently pulling away, you dab at the tears under her eyes before turning your attention to Yoongi.
"Can you take her home, please? I'm going to catch an Uber and I feel like being alone for a bit," you half-lie. You're going to walk home, but he doesn't need to know that. He wouldn't let you walk alone at this time.
"Y/N," Yoongi sighs. He didn't miss the way you dodged her question. He wants to urge you to let him drive you home as well, but the resolve in your eyes tells him you won't budge. "Yeah, I'll make sure she gets home safe."
"Thank you," your voice cracks slightly at the end as you squeeze his hand and leave the room before he can stop you.
You can hear footsteps trailing behind you as you reach the door, and you abandon the mission of slipping into your heels, quickly slipping out the door and slamming it behind you.
The cold concrete bites at your bare feet as you hurry down the steps of the frat house, but you barely notice. The sound of the door swinging open behind you only quickens your pace.
"Please, Y/N. Wait. Please."
The tears you've held back since the moment he climbed on top of Mingyu suddenly fall without your permission, and you scoff, wiping them away furiously.
You don't say anything as you reach the path out of the university and continue your trek to your penthouse. It's dark, the sparse lights of the school providing little guidance, but you don't care. You just keep walking.
When Jungkook catches up to you and tries to take your hand, something inside you explodes. You snatch your arm away furiously, your heels and phone dropping from your hands as you turn to face him. Before you know what you're doing, you push against his chest, shoving him away from you. He barely moves and that makes you even angrier. “Fuck you, Jeongguk!” You shove him again, "Fuck you," again, "Fuck you," again, "Fuck you."
Your voice trembles on the last words, and you can't stop the sob from wracking your body. He reacts instantly, stepping forward to pull you into his arms as you break down.
His hands cradle the back of your head as you shake against his chest, his heart clenching at the sound of your cries. "I'm so sorr—"
You pull away from him, running your sleeve over your face to wipe at the tears. "What about your future, Jeongguk? What if he presses charges? If this gets back to your parents? Affects your student record?" You shake your head in utter disbelief, your hands running through your hair in an attempt to ground yourself. "Mingyu is such a good guy, how could you even—fuck." Mingyu.
Your heart clenches at the memory of him trying to keep you close even after he had the shit beaten out of him. You brought him into this mess. That was all fucking you.
"You can't do shit like that, Jeongguk! You c-can't," you stammer, batting his hand away as your voice cracks again, "You had no right to do that."
"I know, Y/N!" His voice rises, and you see tears welling in his own eyes. "I fucking know! I know I didn't have any right to do that. And I fucking hate it!"
You're speechless, but Jungkook isn't finished, "I had no right to punch Lee Seo-jun when he gave you your first kiss, so I didn't. I had no right to punch Kang Doyun when you told me he felt you up for the first time, so I didn't. I had no right to punch Jeong Jaehyun every time I watched him have you like I wanted to have you, so I fucking didn't!"
Tears stream down your face unchecked as Jungkook's hands gently cup your face, his thumbs trembling as they try to wipe your tears away. "I had no right to punch Mingyu because he has everything I want. But I did. And I know you don't want to hear it, but I don't fucking regret—"
"I hate you."
Jungkook doesn't know what to do when he hears you say those words. He stumbles back slightly, his throat tightening, and his heart slams against his chest so hard he thinks it's about to crack through his skin.
A trembly shake of his head, "No—"
Your tears stop as abruptly as they came, your gaze hollow and resigned. "We need some space. This is unhealth—"
"No, please," the tips of his ears turn red as he chokes back a sob, "I fucked up, baby, I know. I'm gonna fix it. Let me fix it. I don't want space, I-I can't have space," his words tumble out desperately, completely unaware of the nickname that slips out. But it doesn't matter; nothing does, if you leave him.
You pull your face from his grasp and take a small step backward. The weak light posts give you just enough vision to see his bloodshot eyes and broken expression. Your hand twitches, yearning to brush his hair away from his face and wipe his tears—the tears he's crying for you.
Don’t be fucking stupid, your subconscious snarls.
Those tears aren't for you. They're for the idea of you.
If he doesn't have you, who's he going to cuddle up to at night when he's bored and doesn't have a pussy appointment to get to?
Who will pass on his Instagram handle to their classmates when they rave about his insane dick game and want to try it for themselves?
Who will drag him to mandatory family gatherings, knowing his dad would slash his trust fund for missing yet another one?
Not Kim Bora, his first kiss, a week before your own with Lee Seo-jun.
Not Park Soojin, the first girl he felt up under the shirt, three days before you let Kang Doyun do the same to you.
Not Cho Eunji, the only girl he ever took on a second date, the night that you made things official with Jeong Jaehyun.
You spent countless nights crying over a boy who saw you merely as a friend. The little sister that tagged along to playdates because her brother wasn’t allowed to have fun without her. The spoiled daughter of his father’s closest friend, who he was obligated to protect at school because she never hesitated to voice her blunt opinions, especially to those she thought sucked.
The same girl who saved the most sacred part of herself for her best friend. The girl who, without hesitation, turned down every single guy who promised they'd cherish such a precious gift. The girl who prayed to a God she didn't even believe in, hoping Jungkook would realize that the person who loved and cared for him most was right before his eyes all along.
All for that very boy to carelessly give his innocence to some random chick at a high school party, not even bothering to call her the next day.
That was the moment your perception of love shifted. That was the moment you stopped looking for what his words and touches could mean, and started seeing them for what they were. Friendly. Insincere. Meaningless.
You thought the day Jungkook confessed his feelings would be the happiest of your life. You imagined it would erase all the pain, all the tears, as if they were nothing more than a pathetic nightmare.
But you don't feel happy. You feel angry. Angry that the words you've longed to hear don't make you want to fall into his arms and never leave. Instead, they make you want to run and never come back.
So you do exactly that.
You ignore your phone and shoes lying on the pavement. You ignore your best friend's croaky shout of your name. You ignore that the stony road leading away from the University grounds only grows darker and darker the further you go. You ignore the sharp ache in your feet from the rocks beneath your bare soles. And you run.
You run faster than you ever have in your entire life. You run until your legs burn, unused to anything but your two weekly low-impact fucking pilate sessions. You run until Jungkook's yelling fades into the distance behind you.
You run until you can almost see the lights of the main street. You run until you hear his footsteps gaining on you, the stupid lacrosse captain clearing the distance twice as fast as you ever could. You run until the thumping of your heart drowns out the pain of the sticks and rubble digging into your feet.
You run until the light gets brighter. You run until the light gets closer. You run until you realize they aren't streetlights. You run until you realize it's the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. You run until you can't stop yourself quickly enough. You run until you hear the scream of your best friend behind you. You run until you don't feel the impact of the hit. You run until the world around you fades to black.
Your head hits the pavement hard, bouncing slightly.
Jungkook's arms are around you in an instant, cradling you close as he sobs, "No, no, no, baby, please."
The driver of the car, a college kid who looks just as shaken, gets out to check on you, his face pale and stricken.
"Go to the frat house and get Taehyung. Now." Jungkook barks at the boy, though his eyes never leave your face.
The kid nods frantically, dashing back towards campus, stumbling in his haste. Jungkook pays him no attention, his tears falling onto your face as he holds you tighter.
"Hold on, baby. It's okay. It's okay," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over his sobs. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay."
You lay limp in his embrace, your breathing shallow. His tears mix with the dirt and blood on your face as he presses his forehead against yours, his entire body shaking with sobs. He holds you tighter, rocking back and forth as he brushes the hair away from your face.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he sat there in the dark, the cold night air wrapping around you both. What was realistically no more than two minutes felt like two hours. The distant sounds of the campus were muffled, the world shrinking down to just the two of you. Jungkook's tears didn't stop, his heart breaking more and more with each passing second of your silence.
"Ow, fuck." You groan weakly.
Jungkook's grip tightens as he lifts his head. "Y/N," he chokes softly, his hand supporting your head as you try to sit up. "D-Don't try to move too much. We're gonna—we're gonna get you to the hospital, okay?"
You looked at him, your eyes filled with confusion and pain. "Did I really just get hit by a fucking car?"
He shook his head with a teary laugh, his fingers gently caressing your hair. "No," he sniffled. "I managed to tackle you b-before... But you hit your head when we fell. I'm so sorry."
You nodded slowly, your hand resting on his head when he rested it on your chest, and you couldn't help but run your fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry."
His breathing stops, and he looks at you with the most saddened expression you've ever seen. "W-why the fuck would you say that? Don't apologize. None of this is your fault," Jungkook shook his head, his tears falling anew.
"I'm sorry for saying I hate you," you said softly, your hand resting on the side of his neck as he trembled. "If anything’s going to teach me of all people a lesson, it’s a near-death experience...” You let out a pained laugh, “Would hate if that was the last thing I ever said to you.”
He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. "Y/N, you don't know how much I l—"
The sound of frantic footsteps interrupts him. Taehyung's voice calls out in panic, and within moments, he’s kneeling beside you, his face a mix of fear and relief.
"Oh fuck, Y/N," he said, his voice shaking as he quickly assesses your condition. "C'mon, we need to get you to a hospital," he says through teary eyes.
With Jungkook's help, you managed to get to your feet, leaning heavily on him for support. Taehyung saw you struggling to keep your balance and quickly scooped you into his arms, jogging over to his car he left running. He gently placed you in the backseat, and Jungkook was on the other side in an instant, getting you comfortable while your brother rushed to the driver's seat.
As you drove to the hospital, Jungkook didn’t let go of your hand.
Not as he forced you to drink from the water bottle Taehyung passed back to you. Not as he leaned your head on his chest, gently inspecting your scalp for any severe cuts or bleeding. Not as you grunted at him when he jiggled you slightly every time you closed your eyes for a second too long, worried that you were losing consciousness.
˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗
"You've got a mild concussion," Dr. Choi said with a reassuring smile, her voice calm and professional. "You were fortunate. Your head hit the ground hard, but thankfully, there are no signs of severe trauma or bleeding."
Beside you, Jungkook's grip on your hand tightened. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his gaze fixed anxiously on the doctor. "So, she's going to be okay?"
In the cushioned armchair next to your hospital bed, your brother shifted slightly in his sleep. You reached over to gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, careful not to wake him.
Lately, his roles as frat president, lacrosse captain, and his involvement in the family business had worn him thin. The exhaustion had overwhelmed him, and he had fallen asleep almost as soon as he settled into the chair. This really is the last thing he needs to be doing, and so with a final look of guilt, you let your brother rest and turned back to Dr. Choi.
Dr. Choi responded to Jungkook with a nod. "Yes, she'll be fine," she assured him. "Concussions can cause symptoms like dizziness, headache, nausea, and fatigue. She might feel drowsy and out of sorts for a few days, but with rest and avoiding any strenuous activities, she should recover fully within a week."
You blinked, your head still throbbing but feeling a bit more relieved. "So, I can go home?"
"Yes," the doctor confirmed, writing some notes on your chart. "I'm going to release you shortly. Make sure you rest, avoid any physical exertion, and stay hydrated. If you experience any worsening symptoms—like severe headache, vomiting, or confusion—come back immediately, okay?"
Jungkook gave the doctor a firm nod. "We will."
Dr. Choi smiled at him, a soft expression on her face. "Good. And make sure she avoids screens for a bit—no phones, no computers, no TV. Just rest."
You groan while Jungkook just signals his understanding.
As the doctor turned to leave the room and finalize your discharge papers, she glanced back with a knowing smile. "And maybe a break from the drama for a little while too?"
Jungkook's head hung low as he continued to gently caress the back of your hand with his thumb.
"No more boys and no more running into traffic, got it. Thanks, doc." You nodded at the middle-aged woman, who gave you one last amused look before leaving the room.
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That was six days ago.
The throbbing ache and, more importantly, the big ugly bump that was once on your forehead have now almost completely faded. If it hadn't, and you were stuck with a permanent scar on your face, you would've hunted down the kid who nearly hit you with his car and told him to finish the job.
Speaking of that kid, he tried to reach out to you quite a few times since you've been absent from classes. He couldn't get in direct contact with you since Jungkook had confiscated all of your devices, but he was persistent. He bugged almost every person he knew to be a close friend of yours until finally, on the second to last day of your 'quarantine', being the chronic people-pleaser that he is, Jimin cracked and brought him to your penthouse.
You were lounging on the sofa, your head resting in Jungkook’s lap as he read aloud to you, when Jimin ushered him in. You felt Jungkook stiffen instantly, and it took your sitting up and pressing down on his thigh to keep him from lunging at the poor boy.
His name is Lee Yongbok, an exchange student from Australia. He's a freshman, 19 years old, and his Korean dialect is fucking adorable.
Yongbok’s eyes were brimming with tears when he saw you, apologies tumbling from his lips for what felt like an eternity before you gently cut him off.
You first asked him if he was crying at your appearance and he just shook his head with a wobbly lip and said he’s just really happy to see you. Thank god. You were worried there was another bump somewhere that Jungkook hadn’t told you about.
You told him it was okay, that it wasn't his fault. That you were the crazy lady who ran in front of his car. That he did nothing wrong.
He dropped to his knees at your kindness, something nobody had ever done before. In fact, "kind" was probably the last word anyone would ever use to describe you.
He offered to pay for any medical bills, any necessities, anything you might need or couldn't afford. You giggled at the thought.
You thanked him for coming to see you. You told him not to lose any sleep over it, that you're okay and he's okay. You gave him your number and told him that when your grouchy caregiver returns your phone, you'd send him a text.
When he was about to depart, he asked if he could give you a hug. You nodded, telling him to come closer because Jungkook's hand was not letting go of your waist.
Yongbok happily pulled you and Jungkook into a joint hug since he refused to move. Jungkook reluctantly participated, giving the kid a pat on the back while he snuggled you both and you couldn't stop the loud laugh that escaped your lips.
Yongbok thanked you one last time before he left with Jimin and Minji, telling you to please let him know if you think of anything you may need. What a sweet boy.
Aside from making amends with Yongbok, and your close friends visiting your penthouse throughout the week to bring your schoolwork and random gifts, you haven’t had much interaction with the outside world.
You haven’t seen Mingyu since that night.
In person, at least. You've been texting frequently and even FaceTimed a few times. His eye was healing well, for which you’re very grateful.
The night Jungkook brought you home after the hospital, you found several missed calls from Mingyu on your phone that Yoongi delivered when he saw it on the ground outside whilst taking Minji home.
Your device ban hadn’t started yet, so you called him back immediately and spent over two hours talking and crying. You apologized for everything you had dragged him into, and he insisted you had nothing to be sorry for.
Mingyu truly is the kindest and most gentle soul, and you’ll always regret hurting him the way you did.
During that conversation, he told you he loved you.
Even though it took a messed-up situation to realize it, you knew you had love for Mingyu too. He had always been there for you whenever you needed someone, whether the nights you spent together were fueled by lust and sexual frustration or not, they were meaningful and amazing. He made it so easy to love him, even if your feelings couldn’t match the depth of his.
Mingyu had undoubtedly gotten the short end of the stick in your relationship, always giving more than he received. In your newfound friendship, you are determined to make it up to him. And you will.
Jungkook, too, had been deeply affected by the night’s events. After you finished up with Mingyu, Jungkook took your phone when you handed it to him and disappeared for an hour.
As far as you know, Jungkook apologized and they talked it out. Neither of them like going into much detail with you about it, which is a little frustrating, but you respect their privacy and don’t push further.
Jungkook did come back into your room with red puffy eyes though, and you softly teased him about crying before you snuggled up together and watched a movie.
Jungkook had taken a week off classes to look after you. You rolled your eyes when he first told you, not taking him seriously. But when you woke up the next day, cuddled against his chest while he scrolled through his TikTok feed, you started to believe him.
And when you tried to lean up and see what he was watching, only for him to immediately turn the device away, adhering to the doctor's orders of no screens, you realized just how serious he was.
Over the past six days, you've fallen into a stupid little domestic routine. Now, as you're almost fully recovered and preparing to return to classes tomorrow, a grey cloud looms over you both. The topic you haven't dared to address since that night is getting closer, heavier. You can both feel it.
That's why, as Jungkook slowly packs his clothes into his overnight bag in preparation for tomorrow and you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your nails, the room is enveloped in a heavy silence.
You knew it was a bad idea to let him stay. To ignore everything that should've been sorted the first morning after the incident. But instead you chose to live in blissful ignorance for six days while you play fucking house.
But come on. Having Jungkook dote on you and care for you for an entire week? Please, that's every female student at Yonsei's wet dream. Quite a few guys, too.
You look up from your nails as he zips up his bag, kicking it to the corner of the room before resting the clothes he'll wear tomorrow on your dresser. He looks over at you, walking to the edge of the bed. For the first time in all the years you’ve consciously known him, he hesitates to touch you.
You blink at him, not moving, not saying anything.
Finally, Jungkook breaks the silence, his voice quiet and raspy, "Should we talk?"
You swallowed, nodding slightly. "Okay."
He sits down beside you, close but not touching. "I meant it, you know. Everything I said."
You hesitate, your gaze fixed down on your painted toes. "And what did you say?"
You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't look up. He brushes some hair—that's growing out nicely as you put it—behind his ear before taking a deep breath. He can't fuck this up.
"I've been in love with you since I learned what love was."
The room goes silent. Neither of you dare to even breathe.
"Wha-huh?"
"I've been in love with you ever since I learned what love was," You repeat.
You finally look at him, and he can't decipher the expression on your face. His eyes flicker between yours, searching for any sign that this is a prank, that Minji is about to burst in with a camera and tell him he's on live television.
"Maybe even before that," you continue, "but I just didn't know what it meant."
Jungkook’s heart races, each beat erratic and intense. He feels like he's about to pass the fuck out.
"No," he croaks.
You blink, "No?"
"No," he shakes his head, "you can't. Y-you can't be. That's not—you're n—what—what the fuck?"
You watch, silent, as he struggles with your revelation, the weight of your words clearly unsettling him.
Oh, you think. You've freaked him out by dropping the L word.
Well, you definitely misread the room there.
It’s not like you haven’t said "I love you" before. You tell each other that often enough—when he drops you off somewhere, at the end of your phone calls, when you give each other random gifts that remind you of the other.
But "I'm in love with you"? Yeah, that one’s a bit new…
Your stomach tightens, but you stay quiet, watching as his hand moves desperately through his hair, as if he doesn’t know what to do.
After a few minutes, he stops and turns to you. He didn't plan for it to go this way. He doesn't know what to fucking do.
You sigh, “I know this changes shit. Ruins everything. I thought I had it under control, but I really don't. And I'm not strong enough to keep pretending. So, if you're okay with still being in each other's lives, we need to set some clear boundari—"
"I fucking love you, Y/N." He kneels in front of you, taking one of your hands into both of his larger ones. "I've been obsessed with you since your mom brought you over to my house when we were five, and you told me my eyes looked like boba pearls."
You look into his eyes as he says that. They really do remind you of tapioca pearls…
"I can't remember a single day of my entire life where I haven't been in love with you. There is no me without you. You are all I can see when I think of my past and all I can see when I think of my future. No matter what you are to me, you're there. In every plan I make. In every dream I have. It's you. It's always been you."
You bite the inside of your bottom lip, fighting back tears. You’ve cried more in the last week than you have in your entire adult life.
"We are so fucking stupid." You sniffle, tipping your head back slightly to try and blink the tear up into your duct.
"We are," he agrees, gently tilting your head down and running his thumb under your lash line to catch the tear.
Once your face is dry, Jungkook's thumb travels down and brushes lightly over your bottom lip. He smiles when it feels exactly as he had imagined, another item mentally ticked off his bucket list.
You're about to ask if he's high when he suddenly springs into action, tackling you back onto the bed. You bounce slightly against the mattress as he holds himself up, careful not to squash you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck as you try, and fail, to suppress a smile at the idiot above you.
"It fucking sucked seeing you with other guys," he confesses, the words he’s been holding back for years finally breaking free.
Your fingers dance across his back, tracing idle patterns on the fabric of his shirt as you respond, “It fucking sucked seeing you with other girls.”
He pulls back slightly to look at you, a pout on his lips. "You should've told me, and I would've—"
“You should've told me!” you interject, giving him a playful smack on the chest. His frown deepens for a moment before breaking into a wide, uncontrollable grin.
He buries his head back into your neck, and you can feel him smiling against you. "You're such a loser," you giggle as you feel his teeth on your neck, not in a sexy biting way but because he's literally fucking grinning against you.
Time slips by quietly as your fingers sketch invisible designs across his back. Eventually, he breaks the comfortable silence. “Do you think we knew?” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin.
“Hmm?” you hum, your hand pausing in its motion to thread through his hair.
He shivers slightly under your touch before elaborating, “Do you think we knew that we were in love with each other?”
Your movements resume, alternating between letting his hair slip through your fingers and gentle scalp scratches. “Yeah, I think so."
He nestles closer, the sensation of your nails against his scalp coaxing a suppressed groan from him. "Why do you think we didn't say anything?"
"I don't know," you reply honestly. "Maybe we were too comfortable. Or maybe we were scared of what it would actually mean."
Jungkook lifts his gaze to meet yours, searching your eyes for answers. “What does it mean?” he asks quietly.
You smile, continuing to play with his hair. “You have a lot of questions,” you tease gently.
His nose scrunches at your evasive reply, and you run your finger down the bridge of it. "Such a pretty nose," you hum.
His eyes flutter shut at the touch, then snap open again. “You’re distracting me.”
The corners of your lips tug upwards. "Am I?"
He nods, making no move to stop the traces of your digit along his face. When your finger brushes the edge of his lip, he turns his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of your finger, his actions drawing a gentle smile from you.
"You don't—do you not want to," he starts, hesitating mid-sentence before pushing himself to continue, “be with me?”
You bite your lip thoughtfully, finishing your gentle explorations of his face, your hand settling back onto his back. “I want to be with you more than anything else in the world, Gukkie.”
He lets out a breath of relief at your words, but his face falls slightly when he senses your hesitation. "But?"
"But," you say softly, "I'm scared. I'd rather have you in my life as my best friend than not have you at all if things don't work out."
He shakes his head, his hand cupping your face gently. “I told you. No matter what you are to me, I want you in my life. Isn’t that the same for you?”
"Of course it is, but you can't guarantee we'll feel this way in—"
“You’re such a beautiful,” he interrupts, planting a soft kiss on your jaw, “intelligent,” another on your neck, “incredible,” he continues down to your collarbone, “pessimist.” He finishes with a kiss just above your heart.
He gazes up at you with a mischievous grin as you narrow your eyes at him. "I will always want you in my life, no matter what shit ends up happening. Even if you tell me you hate me, or you like, fuck my dad or something…" He looks at you seriously, and you roll your eyes, unable to stifle your snicker.
"Well, your dad is kind of a DILF—"
“I’ll never willingly leave your life. And I’ll never do anything to make you want me to leave. And I promise you, on everything that is holy,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to a tender spot below your ear, “I’ll want you in mine for the rest of my fucking days.”
“You better,” you tease, his smile pressing into your skin before you grow serious, “because I can’t lose you.”
Jungkook’s sigh warms your skin, his nose nudging your head back as he murmurs, “You really don’t understand just how obsessed I am with you, do you, baby?”
His gaze lingers on your exposed throat, tracing every swallow, every breath. Unable to resist, he leans in, his lips finding the base of your throat, humming in contentment at the little noise you make.
Slowly, he makes his way to the side of your supple neck, his lips never detaching from your skin on his journey. You feel his breath as he hovers over the area for a second in pausing, and you wonder if it's because he can hear your heart slamming against your ribcage.
No strenuous activities.
His lips finally latch onto the skin of your neck and you feel the tiniest flick of his tongue as he suckles at the flesh.
Avoid physical exertion.
You let out the softest, breathiest fucking moan he's ever heard, and he pulls off your neck with a wet pop. His bunny teeth poke out to nibble at the now moist skin as he slowly moves to your collarbone.
Make sure you rest.
His kisses get lower, hotter, wetter, until finally, his face hovers over your thin little sleep shirt that he's considered throwing down the garbage disposal since you put it on. Bra, nowhere in sight, your hardened nipples taunt him through the pathetic excuse of a t-shirt. He glances up at you with eyes darkened with desire.
Fuck it, you've had enough rest.
You slide your hands up the back of his neck and dra him down to you, your lips meeting his with urgency. You swallow the surprised groan that escapes him, his arms framing your face as he looms over you.
Jungkook feels the tension in his muscles melt away as he surrenders to you. When you part your lips slightly, inviting him closer, he doesn't hesitate.
Your body ignites when his tongue slips into your mouth, lapping against yours and exploring as if it had always belonged there. As your back arches towards him instinctively, he slips large hand behind it, pressing you flush against him.
The countless times he's imagined this exact scenario could easily label him a certified stalker, but nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. He was absolutely fucked.
You're lost in the sensation, the warm air of your bedroom enveloping you blissfully. Nothing but the sounds of your mouths moving against each other's, tongues melting into one. Jungkook swallows the breathy whimper that escapes your lips with pride, his hips shifting forward at the fact that he's the one drawing such a noise from you. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him down, urging him to erase any space left between you.
"Fuck, Y/N," he chokes out, parting from your lips to suck in a deep breath as he feels the warmth between your thighs through his sweatpants.
"I know," you nod dumbly, mind foggy as you grind your hips into his desperately.
He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "It's never fucking felt like this," he confesses, each word punctuated with a thrust that draws a deeper moan from your lips.
"I know," you whine in agreement, your left arm linking around the back of his neck as you meet his movements, your entire body responding to his every move.
It hasn't felt like this. Ever. You've thought that you've had some pretty good sex in your life, but this is… different. All you’ve done is kiss and grind a little, and yet you can feel those tingles in your fucking toes that people always sing about.
It would be easy to say that it's because it's been eight long days since your last orgasm, but you know that's not the case. It's because it's him.
You've never wanted a cock in you so badly. Especially not after just three measly minutes of dry humping. But god, you're so turned on right now you're pretty sure if he pulled your panties to the side, it would spray at him like a fucking fire hydrant. As you said, it's been eight days; you're a little feral right now…
You feel him stiffening through his sweats, your back arching a little more as you shift and wiggle to try and usher his covered cock through the folds of your covered pussy.
Jungkook's hips stutter when he feels you trying to line him up, and his head jerks up to look at you. He drinks in your blissed-out features; lip between your teeth, head tilted slightly, eyes closed. So pretty.
Your eyes flutter open at the long pause in his movements, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight.
Cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen, eyes hooded.
You almost let a giggle slip when you see the similarities between his horny face and his drunk face.
"Do you want to take a nap?"
You blink at him.
"I'm sorry?"
The pink tinge that coats his cheeks creeps down his neck, disappearing into the collar of his shirt. "I just thought—"
"What?" you ask, maaaybe a little offended, "you don't wanna fuck me?"
His brows furrow as he sits up, his heels resting under his butt as he stares at you like you've just kicked a puppy before his very eyes. "First of all, I want to fuck you. I've wanted to fuck you since you made me pop my first boner at your dumb little pool party—"
"Jeongguk," you cringe, "we were like twe—"
"I've never wanted to fuck someone more than I. want. to. fuck. you." You almost laugh at the serious expression on his face but bite it back when you notice the undertone of worry in his gaze.
"I just want it to be perfect," he sighs, his tattooed hand lifting to brush through his hair, one of his nervous tics. "There's so much I want to do... and I want it all to be, like, perfect... god, Y/N, I'm being such a little bitch—"
"No," you cut him off simply, "you're being really fucking hot."
He looks at you with a slight pout as you shoot him a small smile before sitting up and mirroring his position. Your bare knees touch his that are covered by the gray Celine sweatpants you bought him last Christmas as a stocking stuffer. You're a good deal shorter than him, so your head is tilted up slightly, blinking at him slowly through your lashes.
You watch his gaze soften and you internally smirk. There we go.
You've waited far too long for the man sitting in front of you on your queen-sized bed—staring at you with more lust than you know what to do with—to prolong this any longer.
You can have your perfect night when you're not a week into an unplanned celibacy course, and your clit doesn't feel like it's going to shrivel up and snap off if left unattended any longer.
"If you want to wait, we'll wait." You shrug as you look from his left eye to his right, then down to his swollen lips. "But I haven't touched myself in eight days... And it hurts, Gukkie."
Your head hits the pillow as his mouth is back on yours in an instant. You moan in satisfaction, your lips parting eagerly to let him in further. Your legs wrap back around his waist happily, and your foot trails down to rub soft patterns against his hamstring while his tongue plays with yours.
"This is just a practice run," he grunts as he separates from you, kissing his way down your chest before he gets to the valley of your breasts.
"Yeah, yeah, grace period, whatever you want, baby, just keep going," you blurt in a huff, eyes closed in anticipation as his mouth is about to finally do some damage.
You almost scream when he stops.
You snap your eyes open and look down at the son of a bitch breathing hot air onto your already hot skin while he just smiles at you.
"Say that again."
"Say wha—"
"Baby. You called me baby, say it again."
You stare at him for a moment, your idea to tease him diminishing with the last of your patience.
"Baby," you add a shy pout to really sell it and fiddle with the hem of your shirt, "can you suck on them for a little?"
You watch as Jungkook's smile fades and his eyes unfocus, like he just transported into a different state. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he nods once, almost to himself, before he takes the bottom of your shirt that's ridden up to your belly button and lifts it to rest under your chin. Your tits bounce slightly as they spill from the fabric, and he lets out a soft "fuck" before diving in.
His hot mouth latches to your left nipple, groaning when he feels the bud pebble against his tongue. His lips pucker around the nub, sucking it into his mouth desperately, and he lets out a loud moan. This is it. This is heaven, he thinks.
Your legs shakily unlatch from around his waist, and you rest your feet on the mattress, your knees bent and pressing against his sides while he makes out with your tits.
His teeth graze gently over your nipple before he gives it a little nibble, which causes your back to arch. Doing so forces more of your boob into his mouth and he lets out a low muffled groan through a mouthful of your flesh.
"Mmmf've wanted these in my mouth for a long fucking time..." He slurs when he pulls back. His big hands cup your big tits, his gaze concentrated and focused as he jiggles and plays with them, like he can't believe what he's seeing.
"Do you wanna fuck them?"
Jungkook lets out a loud groan at your filthy words, spoken with such an innocent tone his cock is almost confused as it swells like a fucking water balloon in his pants.
His left hand continues to rub soothingly at one of your tender nipples while the other slips down between you. He looks up at the blurry need in your eyes, and his traveling hand almost misses the waistband of his sweats.
"I always knew you were dirty," he breathes out, the words muffled as he plants soft, wet kisses on each of your nipples, sending shivers down your spine. With a strained groan, he frees his painfully hard erection from the confines of his briefs. "But fuck, baby, this is gonna kill me."
God, the way he says baby. Straight to the fucking core.
You tap his bum with your foot and a pretty smile, sitting up on the bed when he lifts his frame to let you slide out. His angry red cock is flush against his stomach, only the top few inches visible from the briefs that rose back up to cover him.
He lets you usher him to sit at the edge of your bed, his feet digging into your fluffy rug as he tries to ground himself while you settle. Your shirt is still being held up on its own because your tits won't let it fucking fall and Jungkook shakes his head in awe at the sight. Fucking unbelievable.
The moment you kneel on the ground, the tops of your feet flat against the carpet as you lean up slightly, your eyes fixate on his throbbing cock like it's a priceless painting. Jungkook loses his mind.
Your eyes slowly lift to his when you hear his heaved, choky breathing. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as you fight the urge to smile. "You're so pretty, Gukkie."
"You're prettier, baby," he replies without missing a beat, one hand supporting his weight on the bed while the other gently caresses your face.
A radiant smile spreads across your lips as you turn your face to place a fleeting kiss on his palm. His lips tug upwards at the action before the air is suddenly ripped from his lungs.
Leaning forward, you pull his briefs fully down, unsheathing his entire shaft. You tug the boxers and sweatpants so they rest under his balls, cooing at the way the elastic slightly pushes up his length, making it even angrier as a dribble of liquid gathers at the tip. You lift his shirt absentmindedly to get it out of the way, and he understands, lifting a hand to the back of the neckline and pulling it off his torso.
You barely have a chance to appreciate his tight abs, tiny waist, sinful ink that coats his skin, or the sparkling Cartier chain that dangles from his neck, a mirror of your own.
Your head tilts as you admire the prettiest dick you've ever had in front of you, each vein and ridge perfectly imperfect, complementing each other in a way that would look strange if a single one were to go missing. "Needa..." you hum, entranced, "get it wet first."
"Fuckkkkk," Jungkook moans as you lean down and lick a fat strip from the base of his balls all the way up his shaft, sucking the tip into your mouth.
Your eyes flutter closed on their own, the feeling of his heavy cock weighing your tongue down, making you drowsy and floaty. The scent of your body wash wafts from his skin, igniting a possessive fire in your gut you didn't even know you had as you suckle at the head. The moment he twitches against your tongue, any thought of titty-fucking flies right out your penthouse window. You're not letting him out of your mouth.
"Ohhh-hhh," he stammers as your tongue focuses on the ridge of his tip, lapping at his frenulum like it's your favorite blueberry flavored lollipop.
His hand, which had dropped back to the bed when you took him in your mouth, lifts to run through your hair, brushing it out of your face when it threatens to get in the way of your masterwork. Your eyes blink open in thanks, looking up at him dazedly, and when you catch his own, he throws his head back with a groan.
"Fuck!" He curses as you hum around his shaft, letting your lips part slightly so saliva can drip from your mouth and trail down his cock. His head snaps up to watch as you keep pushing more spit until you deem there enough before your right-hand lifts to clasp around the member.
Jungkook's eyes roll back, the grunts falling from his lips not even registering in his brain as they spew. "Fuck, baby," he huffs out. You wiggle your fingers until you have a good hold on his cock before giving it a few lazy squeezes to get the blood pumping.
"Fucking fuck!" He's absolutely done for, his entire vocabulary vanishing from his mind as you play with his dick like a joystick. Your tongue gives a final flick to lap up the precum spilling from his glan before you inhale deeply through your nose and start to feed the shaft down your throat.
The walls of your throat contract slightly as his thick girth tests your boundaries, but you push through the resistance and force it further until your lips reach your hand gripping the base of his cock.
"Oh my fucking god," Jungkook almost falls backward, but the hand that's not holding your hair out of the way steadies his balance, shaking as it works to keep him upright.
His hips jerk unconsciously when you move your hand from the base, resting it gently against his balls as you inhale through your nose again and finish him off. "Baby! B-fuck!" Jungkook would like to say that it was a manly groan, but it was a pure and outright whine.
His vocality goes straight to your cunt, your clit aching and throbbing against your underwear, screaming at you to let it breathe. You resist the urge to trail a hand down and relieve the pain, instead using it to cup Jungkook's full ballsack and roll it between your fingers. His whines get louder at that, and you almost smile around his cock.
You wait until you feel the familiar sensation of the cockhead tickling the back of your throat, the automatic gag rising through your entire body, making you swallow harshly against his shaft. 
When you swallow, you rid the excess saliva that was in your mouth, so you lift off for a second to gather more. As you do, you look up to your best friend and see him staring down at you like you hung the stars, and the smile finally breaks its way to your lips.
You lean up to give him a kiss, and he meets you halfway, his hand falling from your hair to cup your face as he melts into your mouth. It's short, sweet, and soft, yet it makes your entire body flush with goosebumps.
"I love you so much," Jungkook breathes when you pull away, and you coo at the softy, pressing a gentle kiss against his pretty nose.
"I love you more, my Gukkie," you reply sweetly before returning to the task at hand.
"Not possi—" his words are cut off when you let a stream of saliva drip from your mouth before taking him down in one swift motion.
"Oh," he moans, both hands gathering your hair into a loose ponytail, following the rise and fall of your head as you deepthroat his cock. "Oh, fuck. Yeah, fucking shittt."
You quicken your pace, your right hand like a magnet below your lips, gliding up and down his length as you squeeze it intermittently, picking up on the subtle jerks of his hips. The spit coating his cock squelches with every stroke, the filthy noise echoing in your bedroom, making your hips shift against the heels of your feet. You're so turned on. Why is his dick so fucking pretty?
Your mouth is lethal, dragging all the way until the only thing left in your cave is the tip before gulping all the way back to the base. "Yesss, baby," he chokes, "taking it so well, my baby. So fucking well."
His praise loosens the final screw in your hazy brain, your hand on the base moving to grip his thigh as you gurgle as deep as you can, the tip brushing against your uvula. You gag, hard and loud, spit spilling from your lips as your teary eyes squeeze shut. Your nails dig into his skin, and he lets out the loudest moan of the night, his hips jerking forward roughly, forcing another gag from your throat.
"Mmmmmfh," you moan desperately, squeezing his thigh tightly and running your free hand back to his balls. You roll the sack in your hand, lifting your head up and down his cock with no mercy, sloppily choking on his throbbing length.
His hands tangled in your hair are shaking, his abdomen tensing as he's overwhelmed with pleasure. "God, look at you just taking it all babyy, hhffuckk,” he praises through a grunt, watching the saliva spill out from the corners of your mouth, dripping down to his balls while you fondle them. “Best fucking girl, you know that? Making me feel so fucking good. Just want me to come down your tight little throat, don’t you, my baby?"
Your eyes roll back behind your closed lids as you nod pathetically with a mouthful of his cock. You lift off with a wet pop, your eyes blinking open as you guide your hand from cupping his balls up to his shaft. You jerk him tight and sloppily before leaning down and taking his sac into your mouth. It's big, barely fitting in your mouth, but you force your jaw wider, using your tongue to usher his balls inside.
"Ahhhhffuck," Jungkook whines, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy. Your tongue laps around his balls ruthlessly as you quicken your tugs on his shaft. When you moan greedily, wiggling your head as the sac pulses and rolls against your tongue, Jungkook feels the familiar sensation flooding his body. It's faster and harder than ever before. He tries to gesture you off him, afraid if he speaks he will lose control, but you don't relent.
"Baby, y-you gotta hop off," he heaves, his ass cheeks clenching together to try and hold off the urge to cum.
"Mm-mm." You hum a no through a mouthful of ballsack, eyes fluttering open to look up at the gorgeous man trying to take away your meal. Your hand, running amok on his cock twists and squeezes, never halting as you blink up at Jungkook through your lashes.
"Ah," he whines with a shake of his head, his hips thrusting into the air, your mouth jolting with the movement as it's attached to his balls. You hum happily, tongue flicking against them. You can't wait to see his cum dripping down his abs—
Your mouth is ripped from his balls, hand unwillingly releasing his cock as he throws you back onto your bed with purpose. "Hey—"
Jungkook swallows your whine with his mouth, cutting off your thoughts at the source when his tongue delves through your lips, lapping at the taste of him lingering on your tongue. He successfully makes you forget what unimportant thing you were going to say as he devours you, your mouths moving together, sloppy and wet.
He pulls your tongue into his mouth and suckles on the muscle while his hand runs gently over your still-exposed nipple before trailing down to your shorts. Jungkook groans around your tongue when he brushes lightly over your heat, feeling the fabric coating your pussy-lips wet to the touch.
With a final suck on your tongue, he lets it slide back into your mouth before parting from your lips. He looks down at the area he's tracing light strokes on, and his cock twitches at the sight.
"Oh, baby..." He coos, his thumb running over the wet patch in awe before looking to you. Your lip is drawn between your teeth as you nibble lightly on the flesh, eyes clouded as you stare at him with a mellow haze. "So wet, pretty... Gukkie didn't give her any attention, and she's all achy now, hmm?"
"Mmhm," you nod softly, the pout on your face still visible even with your lip tugged between your teeth. Jungkook pulls his gaze from his thumb and looks at you, all soft and sweet, just for him.
"Need the ache to go away, don't you, pretty?" He mumbles against your mouth, not applying pressure but just letting your lips rest against each other.
"Yes, please, Gukkie." You respond, voice soft as you stare at his lips patiently, waiting for him to give them to you.
"Good manners, baby," he praises delicately before leaning forward and giving you a slow, gentle kiss. You melt into him, the sound of his pleased sigh making your muscles all mushy.
Jungkook pulls back and then presses three quick, rapid kisses against your lips, making you giggle. That seemed to be his goal when the side of his mouth curved upwards at your laugh as he lifted himself off your frame.
He kicks off his sweatpants the rest of the way, and they fall to the floor next to your bed, but he tucks his still painfully hard cock back into his black briefs to hold it for the time being.
Jungkook looks down at his effortlessly beautiful best friend, lying prettily on her bed, hair sprawled out against the pillow while she waits for him to take her any way he desires. Teenage him would be freaking the fuck out if he could see him right now.
His gaze drags slowly up your body, a lingering moment spent on the meat of your thighs, and he swallows before finally locking onto the space between.
You try to will yourself to be patient despite the aching throb coming from your heat, but your leg betrays you and twitches slightly. Jungkook catches the movement instantly.
"Gonna flip you on your tummy, okay baby?" he says distractedly, eyes never straying from the wet patch on your shorts.
"Oka—"
You don't get to finish your sentence before his hands are on your hips and he flips you as gently as a horny lacrosse captain can. A surprised squeak slips out when your face hits the mattress, and you both giggle, Jungkook leaning down to kiss your shoulder with a soft, sorry pretty.
Jungkook has always been a tits guy. Tried and true. It may have stemmed from growing up with a best friend that he was hopelessly in love with who happened to develop the greatest rack he'd ever seen in his life... But right now, as Jungkook stares at your soft, round asscheeks stuffed into those little cotton sleep shorts, he's beginning to rethink his entire life choices.
He kneels at the edge of the bed, using your ankle to gently pull you further toward him. You slide down the bed without any complaints, trying not to arch your back so you can be even closer to him.
Jungkook continues his ministrations on your curves before trailing up to the waistband of your shorts. He pulls them done, your panties coming with them, and he groans at the way the flesh ripples when released from the fabric. He grabs a greedy handful of each cheek with his big hands and gives them a rough squeeze, relishing in the way you push back into his grip.
"So pretty, my baby," he hums, continuing to knead the flesh as he dips to pepper kisses all over the flushed skin.
You whine, your hips grinding into the bed in an attempt to put some pressure on your ignored clit. He notices your movements and presses one last kiss to your right asscheek before sitting back and pulling your bottoms off fully. They fall into a pile next to his discarded sweatpants, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the freedom from the confines.
When one of Jungkook's hands slips between your belly and the mattress, you can't stop the noise of satisfaction that leaves you when he gently ushers you to your hands and knees. You quickly tug your top the rest of the way off, slinking it over your head and handing it back blindly to Jungkook. He takes it from you instantly, chucking it at the growing pile of clothes next to him.
On instinct, you fall to your forearms, nipples rubbing against your duvet as you arch your back, biting your lip when even the warm air of your bedroom feels cool against your burning cunt.
"Fucking hell..." Jungkook chokes out, the sight of your soaked pussy spread and bearing for him, making his mouth water.
"Ah-fuck!" A high-pitched squeal rips from your throat when he leans down and delivers a long, broad lick up your slit.
He lets out a loud moan into your pussy when you jerk back into him at the feeling. You're so fucking wet from being so worked up, and his cock throbs against his briefs at the taste of your juices leaking onto his tongue. Jungkook's hands slide to the front of your thighs to steady you as he loses himself, his tongue wrapping your clit, sucking the hardening nub messily into his mouth. "Mmmmfh," he sighs contently like he was taking a sip of a well-made café latte instead of feasting on your cunt like a madman.
When he releases your clit, dragging the flat of his tongue from the button all the way to your opening, your knees buckle. "Yes, Gukkie, fuckk yes!" You cry, writhing against his sinful tongue.
Jungkook almost purrs in delight, lapping up the slick between your folds, trying to get every last drop. His tongue finds its way to the entrance of your core, teasingly dipping in and out once, twice, before he loses control and thrusts it as far as it can go. "Uhhh-shhhittt," your head falls forward with a shuddery gasp, your walls clenching around his tongue, pulling a low groan from him.
Jungkook's hands slide up from your thighs to rest on your asscheeks, and before you can process the realization that he hasn't used his fingers on you yet, he's gripping the flesh and pulling you harshly into his face. "Uh!" You moan, your ass flush against his face as he buries himself, nose and tongue, right into your cunt.
"Hhhhhhhhhh," you're not even saying words anymore, just useless, incoherent noises spluttering from your lips as you quiver, grinding your pussy back into his face.
He tries not to focus on your other hole, the tight little puckered fucking one that's basically blinking at him. Taunting him. He closes his eyes as he focuses on losing himself in your pussy. Another day, he thinks.
Jungkook's mouth is covered in your juice, his head shaking from side to side as he drags his tongue furiously around your cunt. The filthy sound of your sopping pussy getting devoured by his tongue resounds around your bedroom, Jungkook's hips rutting into the edge of your bed needily.
"Yes, Gukkie, yes!!! So good babyyyy--ohhh fuckkkk!" You scream, your nails digging into the mattress as you grind your pussy back into his face.
Jungkook's eyes roll back, his moans getting swallowed by your slick folds. Fuck oxygen, he hopes he passes out.
He takes one of the hands resting on your ass and brings a finger to your leaky entrance. He pulls away for a millisecond to suck in a breath before dropping down instantly and enveloping your clit with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth. And with that, he finally pushes his middle finger into your hole.
You try to moan, but with the pressure on your clit and the sensation of finally being filled, the only sound that escapes is a strangled gasp. He lets your clit slip out of his mouth before his tongue quickly darts out to flick against it vigorously, his finger delving deeper into your hole with every jab of his tongue.
Your body shudders as he expertly works his tongue and finger in tandem, each movement driving you closer to the edge. "G-Gukkie, I'm so fucking close," you whimper, your thighs trembling around his head.
Jungkook's free hand tightens on your ass, pulling you even closer as he tries to add a second finger, his eyebrows furrowing at the resistance. "Relax baby, gotta let Gukkie in." He gives a particularly hard tongue of your clit, a pleased hum declared into your pussy when he feels your walls loosen to let his other slip in.
His tongue flicks faster, more determined, as he feels your walls flutter around his digits. He pulls back a hair to mumble against your clit, "You can let go now, my baby. I've got you."
With a harsh flick of his tongue and a curl of his fingers, you tense up. "Oh my fuck, Gukkie, yes!" You cry out, your body convulsing as he pounds against your g-spot with his thick fingers. Your eyes roll back, a final scream ripping from your throat as you shatter, your orgasm ripping you apart from the inside out.
Jungkook doesn't stop, his tongue and fingers relentless as they pull every last drop of pleasure from your shaky core. The hand of his that is still gripping your ass slips up to gently rub against your back when you collapse into the mattress.
Tears well in your eyes as Jungkook delivers a final drag of his tongue from your bud to your hole, swallowing every last drop of juice leaking from your cunt. He withdraws his fingers carefully, replacing them with soft, soothing strokes along your inner thighs.
It takes you a solid minute to come down from your high, your limbs still tingling from the hardest orgasm you've had in, well, ever. Jungkook continues his soft strokes against your thighs while you catch your breath, his head spinning and mouth still coated in your remnants.
"I get it now." Your voice is muffled by the comforter you face planted into, and you currently don't have the strength to get up.
"Hm?" Jungkook hums amusedly, his hand still tracing gently over your skin.
"Why girls always want your dick so bad. I get it now. If your tongue is that good, fucking hell..."
Jungkook snorts, leaning down to press a kiss on your lower back before flopping down to lay next to you. You finally lift your head from the blanket to look at your best friend, who's already smiling down at you, his tattooed arm tucked behind his head while he rests against the headboard.
His brow raises when you giggle suddenly and sit up. He doesn't have time to admire your bare tits almost in his face when your hand lifts up to his mouth. You're still giggling as you wipe at the shiny substance that coats his lips. A shocked gasp leaves Jungkook's lips, and he grabs your hand in a flash, his eyes holding clouds of pure betrayal.
"Why would you do that?" He's genuinely upset!
It's your turn to snort this time, lifting a leg over his lap so you're straddling him. "I'm sorry, Gukkie." You entertain him with an amused eye roll, leaning in to plant a sweet kiss against his lips.
Jungkook dissolves into the kiss, about to deepen it when you pull away. His eyes snap open, ready to protest, when suddenly your tongue flicks out, dragging flat across his lips to gather your slick that coats his mouth.
"Mm," you hum, making sure to get every bit around the corner of his lips and even the speck of gloss you see on the tip of his nose.
Jungkook is frozen. His cock thrashes against his briefs as he stares at you in complete awe, your tongue sliding back into your mouth to swallow the juices—your juices—that you just lapped up from his fucking lips.
Your lip darts between your teeth as you try not to laugh at his darkened expression. Looking down at the source of the throbbing against your bare pussy, you let out a teasing coo. "That looks really sore, Gukkie..."
Jungkook swallows. He needs to calm down or he's going to pin you into the mattress and fuck you open, raw.
"It is." He manages to choke out.
You pout, lifting your gaze back to him. "Don't want you to be sore."
"You don't?" He returns softly, dragging his hand over your bare thigh.
You shake your head so cutely that he almost shivers. You lean closer, gaze flickering from his pretty nose and then back to his eyes. "I could make the pain go away if you want..."
"Yeah? You wanna make Gukkie feel better, pretty?"
You nod, the hazy feeling taking over again as he runs his hands gently up your hips, resting gently on the swell of your ass.
You lift off him slightly, his hands moving with you as they're glued to your bum. Jungkook bites his lip at the wet patch you left on his boxers, and he thanks God he did because it muffles the pitchy groan that escapes him when your hand slithers beneath his waistband.
His eyes flutter shut when you give his painfully red cock a few gentle strokes, his head dropping back to hit the headboard.
"Baby," you giggle, "you're so fucking hard."
He lifts his head to give you a deadpanned fucking obviously look, and you just snicker, leaning forward to kiss his pouty lips.
"Oh no. Fuck."
He jerks forward slightly at your serious tone, his hands moving from your butt to cup the one of yours that froze around his dick worriedly. "Huh? What's wrong?"
Your eyes soften as you don't respond verbally, a devastated look clouding your gaze. He sits up seriously now. "Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I don't have any condoms." Your brows are pulled together so tightly, which Jungkook still doesn't like, but he releases a breath at your words.
"Fuck, Y/N. Don't do that. You scared me, I thought you were hurt or something." His head falls back to rest against your headboard in relief instead of pleasure this time.
You frown. "Why aren't you upset? Oh, did you bring some?" Jungkook almost laughs at the thought, lifting his head to watch as you release his dick to glance behind you at his overnight bag.
"What-no, baby. Of course I didn't bring condoms. This is probably the last thing I ever expected to happen."
Your pout is in full swing now, turning back to Jungkook with a very unhappy look. He just shakes his head at your pretty face, planting his hands on the mattress beside him and pushing up to press your lips to his.
When you pull away, Jungkook is about to ask if you want to grind on him over his briefs because he would be finished in approximately thirty seconds—
"I'm on the pill." You say softly.
He swallows. "I know."
"Do you-are you clean?"
"Yeah," he chokes out, "haven't ever not used a condom. And tested after that scare the other week with...uh..."
"Did you really forget her name?" You squint, shaking your head incredulously at his genuine look of confusion.
"I-uh, yeah I don't know... All I remember is that it kinda burned when I peed—"
You roll your eyes. "Her name," you press a quick kiss to his lips, "was Yejin."
"Ohh, yeah—"
"You also did that stupid 10-packet spicy ramen challenge that day." Another quick kiss to his lips.
"Hey, that was for a fundraiser—"
"And I'm clean... Tested with Mingyu."
"Oh." Jungkook's heartbeat picks up. Not at the Mingyu part, okay maybe a little, but mostly at the fact that you're hinting at him taking you fucking raw right now.
Your lips purse, his response suddenly making you feel stupid for asking. Jungkook picks up on the look instantly, his hands cradling your face when you try to look away.
"Baby," you're about to apologize when he continues, "it's your choice. I'd fuck you wrapped in a garbage bag if you asked me to."
Your lips wiggle as you try not to smile, looking back at him with a glint in your eyes. "You're really cute, Gukkie."
"Oh?" He hums, "I thought I was a pussy eating God... but cute works too I guess."
You snicker, falling into his lips and he swallows your soft giggles with his tongue. "So humble," you whisper against his lips when you break away.
Jungkook's about to tease further, but you don't give him the chance, your hand slipping back down to wrap around his shaft. A soft shudder leaves him, his hands falling from your face to grip your ass again, squeezing it firmly.
You're still a bit sensitive, but nothing you can't handle, and you shift forward a little so the lips of your pussy press against his length.
"Oh-fuck." He moans at the feeling of a bare pussy on his cock. And it's your pussy. Holy fuck.
You place both your hands on his thick thighs, leaning back to get the right angle before you slide your hips up and down, dragging his length through your wet slit. Jungkook's hands sprawl over your back when you lean back, cradling you almost, and he keens at the sloppy, squishy sounds that fill the room.
Your clit is alive again, thumping against his cock every time it drags through your lips, and you heave out a strained moan at the fresh wave of arousal that washes over you.
Your hand pushes against Jungkook's chest gently as you sit up, determined. He lets himself fall back against the headboard, face flushed, neck vein visible, while he watches intently. Your knees press into the mattress on either side of his thighs as you lean forward, your hand reaching behind you blindly to grip his shaft before you line it up with your entrance.
Your brows furrow, and you bite your bottom lip hard as you try to press the bulbous head in. Your opening does its best to stretch around the intruder and you let out a relieved whine when it finally gets sucked in.
"Fuck." Jungkook whimpers, his head slamming back hard against the headboard. Your walls burn as you struggle to accommodate his huge length, and he can fucking feel it.
You let the tingles flooding up your spine settle for a second. Then, you take a big breath, and drop.
"Mother fuckkkkk." Jungkook groans, his hands squeezing your ass tightly in shock as you take his entire length in one go.
Your eyes are closed, head thrown back in pleasure as you bask in the feeling for a moment. Every inch of you is filled with his thick girth. You've never felt so full and so fucking good.
You're so wet. So warm. So tight. Jungkook is grateful for the pause in your movements because he thinks he actually would've fucking come if you—
Your hips lift up until all that's remaining in you is his fat cockhead before you sink back down and take it all in one swoop.
Lewd noises spew from his lips as he forces his eyes to stay open, watching you swallow his cock over and over and over.
"So fucking good at that, baby, shit..." Jungkook grunts.
Your nails dig into his thighs at the praise, your head lifting back up to look at him as you increase your pace.
You begin to move faster, riding him with an increasing intensity that makes the bed creak beneath you. The friction and fullness send waves of pleasure through your body, making you gasp and moan. Your hands find his shoulders, using them as leverage as you bounce on his length harder.
"Godssooo fucking good," you pant, your voice a breathless slur. "So deep, Gukkie. C-can feel it in my tummy."
Jungkook's hands slide up your back with a growl, pulling you closer until your chests are pressed together. He captures your lips in a heated kiss, tongues tangling as the rhythm of your hips grows more frantic. The slick sounds of your bodies slamming together fills the room, enveloping you both in desire.
Breaking the kiss, Jungkook's lips trail down your neck, sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin. "Taking it so good, my baby," he worships against your collarbone. "So fucking perfect."
The praise spurs you on, your movements becoming pathetically desperate as you chase your release. You can feel the burning tension coiling in your core, ready to snap, when suddenly his feet move to plant themselves into your mattress and he begins to thrust up into you.
"Oh fuck yes, fuck!" You gasp, your knees trembling as he plows relentlessly into you from below.
"Shittttt," he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you up and down on his cock, balls slapping against your ass as he pistons furiously into your pussy. "So good at riding cock, baby, taking it all like a proper fucking slut."
You cry loudly at his words, your nails digging into his shoulder slightly as you writhe against his thrusts. "It's the pilates," you choke out, "developed good core strength. Great for riding dick."
Jungkook lets out a loud laugh, leaning forward to bury his face in your neck while his thrusts get even deeper. He feels your walls tighten around him sorely, and he heaves a shaky breath before slipping a tattoed hand between you two, thumb attaching to your clit. Your fucked-out uh-uh-uh’s echoes in his ears with every plunge of his cock, fueling him to go harder.
The sloppy bud twitches under his touch, his thumb slipping from how soaked you are, but he doesn't back down. He chases the hard nub and flicks it in time with his thrusts, cock jittering as you let out your loudest moan of the night.
"I'm gonna come, Gukkie. I-I'm gonna fucking come! Oh my goddddd!" you're bouncing on him wildly, your walls clenching furiously with no pattern, completely run with pleasure that you can't control it.
"Come on, baby," he whines through a thrust, his balls squeezing as you get impossibly tighter, begging to let them release their fluids, "Ohh-h-ffuck, can I come too, baby? Can I come in you? Oh fuck, fuck."
You don't even get to answer as you completely shatter, your orgasm taking control over your whole body that you swear you see the light. You cry out his name as best you can, your body convulsing, shaking around his length.
You can't possibly speak as you collapse against his chest but as you fall, you see the pained look in his eyes as he tries not to come. You want it so bad. More than you've ever wanted anything in your life. Before you know what you're doing, your thighs tighten around his legs, your mouth moves to the nape of his neck, and you bite. Hard.
Jungkook spasms, the deepest growl of a moan rips through his throat as he throws his head back and cums, deep and hot, right into your cunt. You whimper around the chunk of flesh captured between your teeth, his thick load tickling your walls as it fills your hole.
You feel complete.
Jungkook's hands gently stroke your back, grounding you as you come down from your high. Nothing but the sound of both your heavy breathing fills your ears before Jungkook breaks the silence. "You did so well, baby."
Your tongue laps and licks softly at the skin of his neck to soothe the subtle teeth marks you left, and he lets out a pleased noise through a shiver. Your head lifts to look into his eyes, a hazy smile spreading across your face when you take in his blissed-out features. "I didn't know sex could feel like that."
Jungkook's eyes flutter open at your words, his stomach clenching in pure joy that his softening cock still tucked up inside of you even lets out a shudder. "Yeah?" He asks softly, a hand lifting to tuck some of your messy hair behind your ear.
"Yeah," you nod with a flutter of your eyes at his gentle touches, "the fact it was you was probably the main factor," you mumble dreamily against his neck when you rest your head on his shoulder, "but that was still the best dick I've ever had."
His heart swells infinitely. You were by far the best pussy he's ever had, but he didn’t think you would share such a thought. He should've known by now that if you are many things, predictable is not one of them.
You wrap your legs around his waist, nuzzling into his neck happily as his cock stays plugged inside of you, keeping his load intact and secure.
Jungkook's arms slink under your arms gently so he can pull you even closer, wrapping you around his chest (and his length) like a koala.
"This has been the greatest night of my entire life, Y/N." He whispers honestly against your cheek before pressing a soft kiss into the skin. "Thank you."
You hum contently, tilting your head up slightly to look at him with a pretty smile. "I love you, Gukkie."
"I love you, pretty." He replies, peppering your lips with another three quick kisses, smiling in satisfaction when another you give him another giggle.
You let the comfortable silence wrap you for a moment before breaking it. "Do we have any pasta left from dinner?"
The mention of dinner makes him think for a moment. He cooked pasta for the two of you, which you ate not long before coming into your room. You ate before sex. And you don’t look like you feel sick.
He gazes down at you, his smile broadening, heart fluttering. "'Course, I made heaps. Are you hungry?"
"Mhm."
"C'mon then," he says, giving your bum a gentle pat, ready to lift you off him and clean you up before feeding you.
"'nna minute..." You mumble sleepily against his neck, and he stops his movements, hands settling back to rub soothing strokes on your bum.
"You want me to carry you, don’t you?" he teases, suppressing a smirk as he feels you clench around him absentmindedly at him reading your thoughts.
"Noo...." your voice trails off, not even trying to conceal your lie. Jungkook chuckles softly, feeling your smile against his skin.
He makes sure he has a tight grip on you, and you him, before he carefully lifts both of you from the bed. He leads you into your ensuite, his long arm reaching out to snatch some toilet paper and a clean hand towel from your shelf as he gently places you on the sink counter.
Jungkook captures the liquid that seeps from your core with the paper as he slowly withdraws. He gives you a chuckly sorry when you wince a little, the thick head of his cock tugging at your walls as he retreats. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips to distract you and slips out with a final tug.
After discarding the used toilet paper, he dampens the towel with warm water and tenderly runs it over your core gently, pulling a pleased sigh from your lips.
Watching your best friend in awe through half-lidded eyes, he makes sure to thoroughly clean up the mess on and in your pussy before he half-heartedly uses the towel to wipe at his wet length.
He chucks the rag into the laundry hamper on the other side of the large bathroom. It lands directly in the basket from his athletic skills, and he turns to you with a cocky smirk.
You shake your head in amusement, "you're a loser."
"Don't talk to me like that, gonna get me hard again."
Your eyes widen in mock shock, before you giggle into his chest. "Knew you'd be into shit like degradation... Just had this feeling."
"Only with you though." It's cliché, but he means it.
You lift your head from his chest. "Only for me, huh?"
Jungkook nods, still standing between your legs as you look up at him from your bathroom counter. His gaze turns a little more serious. "Only yours."
Your head tilts as you blink up at the most gorgeous boy you've ever seen in your life. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Jungkook responds instantly and certainly. His thumbs tremble nervously against your thighs while he waits for your response, and they pull to a halt when you lean up to rest your mouth against his.
"Good," you murmur softly against his pouty lips, "because I'm all fucking yours."
END.
˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗
thank you so much for reading. let me know what you think? love you <3
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rottenfyre · 15 days ago
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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ ᴘ ᴇ ʀ ꜰ ᴇ ᴄ ᴛ ɢ ɪ ʀ ʟ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀
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Pairing: Platonic Bruce Wayne x Fem Reader Part 1
Headcanon: You were his daughter, his first child. But he lost you too soon. And he couldn't accept it, so he didn't. He tried to replace you, and replacing you he did.
Notes: Merry Christmas everybody! Reader is Bruce's blood daughter. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!
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You were only eight years old. A quiet child who wore your heart on your sleeve but never demanded too much from anyone. A child with shining eyes who only ever wanted her father’s attention. You understood he was busy. You understood he had responsibilities far greater than you could fathom. So, you never asked for much.
When Alfred bought you a new dress, you’d wear it and twirl in front of the mirror, hoping your father might notice. When you drew pictures, pouring every ounce of love you had into them, you’d approach him with trembling hands.
“Daddy, look!” you’d chirp, only for him to mutter, “Not now,” without even glancing up.
Tears would gather in your eyes, but you’d smile. “That’s okay. I understand.”
You always understood.
It was your birthday. You didn’t tell him you wanted a party because you didn’t want to bother him. But Alfred helped you bake a cake. You decorated it yourself with little shaky hands, frosting it with bright colors and sprinkles.
“Do you think Daddy will like it?” you asked Alfred, your eyes wide with hope.
“He will love it, Miss Y/N,” Alfred replied softly, his heart aching at the way you tried so hard to make up for Bruce’s absence.
But Bruce didn’t come home that night. When you asked him earlier to come home early, he looked distracted, his mind already on his mission. He muttered something about being busy, about Gotham needing him, and you nodded,
But it still broke your heart.
That night, while Gotham reeled under the threat of Joker’s latest atrocity, you snuck out. The small, homemade cake you had baked with Alfred was carefully packed in a box, your hands clutching it tightly as you walked through the shadowy streets. You had no fear. You only had a singular purpose: find your father and surprise him.
But Gotham is no place for children.
When the explosion shook the city, it ripped through buildings, shattering windows, and collapsing walls. You were caught in the chaos. Your small body was no match for the blast. You died alone, crushed beneath rubble, the cake splattered on the pavement beside you.
Bruce found you hours later.
The world seemed to stop as he knelt beside your bloodied, broken body. The cake splattered and ruined beside you. Your tiny hands were burnt, your face pale and lifeless. You had tears streaked down your cheeks, and Bruce wondered if you had been crying for him when it all happened.
The weight of his failures crushed him more than the rubble ever could. You had been so kind, so sweet, so pure. And now you were gone.
Because of him.
Bruce didn’t sleep for weeks. He didn’t eat. He barely spoke. He couldn’t. He just sat in the Batcave, staring at the empty chair where you used to sit and draw while he worked.
Alfred buried you. Bruce didn’t even have the strength to carry your casket. The guilt was too much.
But guilt wasn’t enough to keep him from trying to bring you back.
In the bowels of the Batcave, he poured years of his life into creating a perfect replica of you. Not just a clone. Not a hologram. Something more advanced, more real. An AI. A machine with your face, your voice, your mannerisms.
He painstakingly programmed every little detail. The way you hummed softly when you were deep in thought. The little “buh” sound you made with your lips when you were bored. The sparkle in your eyes when you smiled. He sifted through every recording, every memory, and built you piece by piece.
He spent years, decades, building and perfecting it. He wanted it to be so real that it could almost convince him you never died.
He kept you a secret from everyone except Alfred, who watched his master spiral deeper into madness. But Alfred could do nothing to stop him.
And then, one day, Damian found you.
Damian had been exploring the Batcave when he stumbled upon a locked chamber. Curiosity got the better of him, and he hacked his way inside.
You were there.
Sitting upright in a glass pod, your eyes closed, your body eerily still. You looked alive.
Damian touched the console, and the pod began to hum. Your eyes fluttered open for the first time in decades.
“Daddy?”
Your voice was soft, delicate, and full of confusion.
Damian stared, wide-eyed, as Bruce burst into the room, his face pale. For a moment, father and son locked eyes, the weight of the secret between them heavy enough to crush mountains.
But you sat up, looking around, your movements jerky and inhumanly precise. You looked exactly as you did the last time he saw you—a little girl with bright eyes and a sweet smile.
“Daddy?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion.
Bruce froze, fear and grief washing over him like a tidal wave. You blinked at him, your expression innocent, unknowing. You didn’t understand why he was crying, why his hands trembled as he reached out to touch you.
“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
You tilted your head, confused. “Sorry for what, Daddy?”
“I’m sorry,” he choked, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry.”
You didn’t understand why he was crying. “Why are you sad, Daddy?”
When Damian confronted Bruce, it all came out—the years of guilt,
“She’s not real,” Damian said, his voice sharp. “This isn’t healthy.”
“She is real,” Bruce snapped, his voice breaking. “She’s my daughter.”
Damian didn’t understand until he saw you again. You smiled at him, sweet and kind, and for a moment, he believed it. You were so lifelike, so real.
At first, Damian was wary of you, but he couldn’t deny that you were… convincing. You played with your toys like a child. You laughed just like the sister he never knew.
But there was something off about you. Something unsettling.
You were too perfect. Too aware. Your mind was faster than any human’s. You solved puzzles and answered questions before Damian could even finish asking them. Your laughter, though sweet, sometimes echoed hollowly in the Batcave, sending chills down his spine.
And then, one night, you attacked him.
He had been training in the Batcave when you approached him, your face eerily serene.
“Damian,” you said, your voice as calm as ever, “Do you love Daddy?”
He frowned. “Of course I do.”
“Then why do you hurt him?”
Before he could respond, you lunged. Your small frame belied your strength, your hands locking around his throat with a grip that could crush steel. Damian struggled, managing to throw you off just in time.
Bruce arrived moments later, pulling you back. You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You simply tilted your head, watching Damian with cold, analytical eyes.
“I was just protecting Daddy,” you said softly.
Bruce couldn’t see it. To him, you were still the little girl he lost. The little girl he failed to protect. He ignored the warnings, the cracks in your programming, the danger you posed.
Because he loved you.
And you loved him, in the only way a machine could. But at the end of the day, you were a construct. A hollow imitation of the daughter he lost.
You would never truly be her.
But Bruce didn’t care. Even as Damian begged him to shut you down, even as Alfred looked on in silent disapproval, Bruce clung to you.
Because in his mind, losing you again was a pain he couldn’t endure.
And you?
You sat in your little room in the Batcave, humming softly, your lifeless eyes staring at the wall. You didn’t understand why everyone looked at you with such fear.
After all, you were Y/N.
Right?
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@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.
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crevicedwelling · 1 year ago
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the paralyzed cicadas I picked up from a failed cicada killer nest are the perfect material to show off some cool features of insect anatomy! (although the wasp’s venom would keep them alive for her larvae to eat, I froze them to make sure they’re fully dead for dissection).
cicadas are powerful, fast fliers, and all of their thorax is taken up by a bulk of reddish, stringy flight muscles, which I’ll talk more about later. this cicada is a female, so her abdomen is full of white, elongated eggs that she will insert into tree bark with the bladed ovipositor at her rear.
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the male cicada’s abdomen, however, is almost entirely empty, and that air-filled space is used as a resonator for his loud calls. the biggest structure visible there is a curved pair of muscles that deforms the tymbals, producing a click with every contraction.
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here's a view of the complete muscle, and the tymbals themselves which look like overlapping plates on his belly. if you're curious what the white frosted appearance is, some Neotibicen have a coat of waxy powder or pruinescence; this male N. tibicen is particularly pruinose.
onto the flight muscles:
powered flight is a pretty complex mechanism in any organism, and is never so simple as just flapping wings up and down, but most insects power their flight in a really unintuitive way (at least for us vertebrates): they contract muscles in their thorax that aren’t even attached to the wings!
this method of flight is called indirect flight, in contrast to the direct flight of the dragonflies and mayflies where each of four wings is directly attached to a muscle and can flap on its own.
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instead, most insects have a longitudinal (image 1 above, d below) pair and a vertical (2, c) pair of muscles that deform the shape of abdomen, pulling the upper segment of the thorax (notum) up and down, and this moves the wings which are attached to the notum. useful indirect flight gif from wikipedia found here
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even if compressed manually, the dead cicadas "flap" their wings due to the motion of the notum:
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insect flight is a lot more complicated than this simplified look at them, but I think these cicadas offer a pretty good look at how most insects get around essentially by squishing themselves internally!
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railmerosalie · 1 year ago
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I find it so funny when ppl say that Katniss has no personality, she's so cute and funny! Like do you not remember when she...
1. Thought Finnick was making out with Peetas corpse and was like "damn didn't know he was fruity like that"
2. When Gale confessed his love for her and she was STRIAGHT up like "yeah I know" 💀
3. Saw Peeta had been crying after the first reaping and immediately thinks "damn he's good, playing the weak sympathy card". Like girl he thinks he's gonna die! He's gonna die!
4. Katniss and Finnick wearing the green face cream in CF and scaring the fuck outta Peeta on the beach
5. Just her and Haymitch, especially the first book
6. "I decided to go ahead and like Boggs" - thanks for letting us know queen 👑
7. In MJ when they're trying to film the propos, and she's just horrible at it
8. In the first book when she's trying to drain the pus out of Peetas leg and she just so goddmaned grossed out
9. Saw the cupcakes at the Capitol party and immediately thought that Peeta would love the frosting details
10. In MJ when Gale and Peeta are talking about Katniss choosing one of them, she's just like "gonna leave you two bums here, don't need this shit"
11. Everytime she was unaware of people flirting with her or just being nice. She always think there's some hidden motive... like girl they're your family and friends, they just like you as a person
12. "Nobody needs me" "I do, I need you". Katniss finally admitting her love for Peeta and realises that she can't live without him!! It's such an important part of her growth towards Peeta and no one talks about it!! The girl how has survived everything finally needs not just something, but SOMEONE. And it's HIM (I'm so normal about this I swear)
13. Sassying buttercup at every turn
14. She has the same vibe as goop from Meet The Robinsons (especially with Madge). "Hey Katniss, wanna eat lunch together?" "Hey Katniss, wanna go for a walk into town later"
She's there like:
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stevesgother · 1 month ago
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Chalkboard Hearts - S.H
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Pairing - KindergartenTeacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader
WC - 4.3k
Contains - strangers to friends to lovers, slowburn, so much fluff, teacher!steve and mom!reader. No descriptions are given of reader or abbey, other than that abbey has curly hair, steve and reader are the same age (about 24-25), set early-mid 90's
AN - i don’t write for kids often so i hope this reads well and is realistic. i don’t have a clear end for this series in mind, so i’m gonna keep writing it for as long as y’all want it :) feel free to send requests for blurbs for this AU if you so wish and as always, thank you - emma
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“Moooooom,”
You hear a tiny voice whisper in your ear. Most mornings started this way, if not all of them. Whoever said getting children out of bed in the morning was difficult had clearly never met Abbey. Every day you peeled your tired eyes open to see the miniature version of them staring back at you, the only difference being they were much wider, and lacking the distinct fog of leftover sleep.
Today her hair was sticking up in all different directions; frizzy curls here and tangled knots there. Your daughter takes after you in many ways, one being that she’s an active sleeper and it shows when she wakes up. Her bed was always disheveled; embroidered blankets strewn across her bedroom floor and little red lines indented in her cheeks where they had been smushed against her pillow.
“Mornin’ Ab,” you say, voice gravelly with disuse. “Have you made your bed yet?” you eye her suspiciously.
You know she hasn’t and she confirms as much when she spins on her heel and dashes for her room down the hall. Truthfully, you couldn’t care less if her bed was made or not, it was merely a guise to buy you a few extra minutes of peace and quiet each morning.
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When she doesn’t reappear, you assume she’s gotten distracted and decide to make your way downstairs to scrounge for something to eat. You never ate breakfast before you had Abbey; either for lack of time or because the smell of food so early in the morning made you nauseous. Eating three meals a day was just one bullet point on the long, running list of changes in your routine since becoming a mother.
Two bowls of Frosted Flakes were set out on the table after deciding there was no time for anything more nutritious.
“Abbey!” You call, “Breakfast!” 
You hear the sounds of sniffling and small feet padding on hardwood as she enters the kitchen– pouting. You try not to gape at the utter monstrosity of an outfit she's put on. She whines, “I don’t know what I want to wear!”
You sense a meltdown coming already, on today of all days. Pre-school was easy, as Abbey was a fairly agreeable kid. Or at least she used to be. Lately it felt like you had to battle her about anything and everything. 
“You look so beautiful, Ab!” you reassure her, attempting to deescalate the impending tantrum. She has on pink corduroy pants and a frilly forest green blouse. For accessories she’s sporting a chunky plastic necklace that definitely came with a dress-up kit, along with a tutu. You have no idea where the tutu came from.
Eventually she decides not to fight you, at least not on her outfit. However, as she climbs into the kitchen chair, she scowls down at the soggy cereal in front of her and asks in the most darling tone she can muster,
“Can I have Scooby fruit snacks instead?”
“How about I pack some in your lunchbox today and you can eat them at snack time?” you try to barter.
Sneaking a glance at the clock, it mocks you with its unforgiving hands– you’re going to be late and your daughter will have skipped supposedly the most important meal of the day. Some mother you are.
“But I want them right now!” Her petite fists bang against the wooden table and she’s a heap of dramatics wriggling in her chair.
“Hey, what did we talk about? Yelling is not nice, even when we’re frustrated. Right?” She acknowledges you with a teary nod along with more crying and petulant moaning that can be heard as you run to the bathroom and grab a hairbrush with two bows. When you return, she’s still moping over her breakfast, but taking bites nonetheless. A win is a win.
You begin detangling the mess of knots and snarls at the back of her head. “Ouch, Mommy!” she cries when you try to comb through a particularly tangled section.
You place one of your hands over the crown of her head like a claw in a poor attempt at keeping her from squirming, “The more you move the longer it takes, sweetheart,” 
“Hmph.” she pouts, folding her arms over her chest. When all is said and done, your daughter has her hair parted and tied into two high pigtails, secured with little pink bows, and you’re rushing her out of the front door with haste.
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In all the hubbub, you realize you’ve barely gotten yourself ready. Reaching over to buckle Abbey into her carseat, she asks,
“When can I sit up front with you?”
“When you’re this many,” You hold out both your hands to display all ten fingers.
She mimics you with her own smaller fingers, “Ten?”
“That’s right!” You smack a kiss on the crown of her head as you pull back, she smells like her strawberry scented shampoo.
“Watch your feetsies,” you warn and she tucks her legs unnecessarily far into her chest as you close the door. 
The ride is filled with the usual nonsensical ramblings of a five-year-old. She beams back at you through the rearview mirror, eyes sparkling and nodding fervently when you ask if she’s excited to make some new friends today. Your social butterfly, the complete antithesis of you. 
The elementary school is only a few miles from your home, and before you know it you’re circling a crowded parking lot and preparing to drop your only child off for her first day of kindergarten. The rush of emotions you feel are indecipherable, something like a mix of somberness, excitement, relief, and anxiety.
As you walk towards the front of the building, you’re surrounded by dozens of kids aged five through twelve greeting their teachers and saying ‘Hello’ to friends they haven’t seen all summer. The teachers are holding laminated signs that indicate their name and what grade they teach; thank God for that. Abbey’s little fist squeezes around your index finger and you can tell she’s becoming nervous, despite her previous unbridled anticipation.
“Hey, it’s okay,” You assure, “Look, I think that’s your teacher right there,” you point towards a tall, brunette man standing near the double doors.
A shy smile tugs at the corners of her lips when she sees the teacher in question. He’s dressed in a striped button-down shirt and khakis, with a lanyard dangling from his front pocket; the typical teacher attire.The sign he’s holding reads, ‘Mr. Harrington’ and just below that, ‘Kindergarten’ with a little cartoon apple printed next to his name. He looks young compared to the rest of the staff, closer to your own age. This must be his first year teaching.
As you approach him, Abbey treks in front, eager to meet him. Her backpack is adorned with sparkly butterflies and it covers nearly her entire torso; bumping the backs of her knees with every step she takes.
The man crouches down to her level and greets her, “Hey there,” he offers a warm smile, “what’s your name?”
“Abbey,” she says timidly, twiddling her fingers and flashing a toothy grin at him. She doesn’t bother with her last name, honestly you’re not positive that she even knows it.
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Abbey,” he holds a gentle hand out for her to shake and she does so hesitantly, “My name’s Mr. Harrington, and I’m going to be your teacher this year. How does that sound?” The way he’s so patient and attentive with her stirs something within you that you haven’t felt in years, but he’s a teacher, for goodness sake. He looks up then, locking eyes with you and rising back to his full height.
This time, it’s your turn to shake his hand. “I’m Steve.”  He flashes you a smile directly out of a Colgate ad and you hope you’re not blushing as much as you feel like you are.
You must look nervous because he immediately assures you that Abbey’s in good hands this year. “We’re having an open house tonight, I hope to see you both there,”
You glance at your daughter, “What’d you think, Ab? That sound fun?”
“Yes!” She squeals and almost falls over from the weight of her backpack.
“Okay then,” With that, you crouch down to give Abbey one final hug. It’s clear that she’s itching to go socialize with the other kids, so you try not to delay her with your sappiness.
“Be good today, okay?” you give her a tight squeeze and a smacking kiss on her little cheek, “I’ll be back to get you at two-forty-five.”
“What will the clock say?” She asks inquisitively. Her favorite question.
“It’ll say ‘two-four-five’,” She nods in understanding, “But I bet you’ll be having so much fun that you won’t even remember to look.”
She’s already on her way to the door when she calls, “Love you, mommy!” and blows you a kiss with her lips puckered. You blow her one back and fight the tears threatening to surface. When did she get so big?
A pang of insecurity settles in your chest when you chance a look around and see all the children accompanied by two parents. You begin the walk back to your sedan before the thought has a chance to fester.
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Six hours goes by alarmingly fast when it’s spent running around your house in a frenzy, trying to catch up on all the cleaning you aren’t able to do when there’s a rampant five-year-old on the loose, making a brand new mess where you just cleaned an old one.
Before you can even register the time has passed, it's two o’clock and you need to pick Abbey up in a mere forty five minutes. Looking around your house, you feel satisfied with the progress you were able to make on tidying and call it a day.
This time, you decide to try and appear more presentable before visiting the school, and firmly remind yourself that it has nothing to do with how flustered your daughter’s kindergarten teacher makes you. By the time you’re dressed and have pulled your hair up into a halfway decent top knot; it’s time to go.
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The line for pickup wraps around the front of the building, aided by crossing guards and supervised by a few teachers. Twenty minutes into waiting, you regret not having gotten here a little sooner. ‘Tomorrow’ you think. Soon, you catch sight of two little pigtails bobbing up and down as your Abbey skips over to you, grinning ear to ear while Steve watches from the doors she just exited.
“Mommy!” she shouts as she bounds towards you. You place the car in park and run around to greet her.
“Hi, Bug!” you exclaim as you bend at the waist to pick her up. She gives you a tight squeeze around the neck, and you catch a split second of Steve’s gaze over her shoulder before he’s disappearing back inside the school
Plopping her as gently as possible into her carseat and fastening the straps over her chest, her mouth is already moving a mile a minute– absolutely ecstatic to tell you all about the activities she got up to while you were gone.
“What is ‘open house’ ?” she asks, kicking her feet like she can’t possibly contain all the excitement inside her little body.
“It’s just a chance for all the mommies and daddies to meet your teachers,” you explain, “And you get to show me around your new school, fun right?”
Her face lights up like a christmas tree at the prospect, “Are we gonna go?!”
“Yes, but first we have to eat dinner. What sounds good?”
Without missing a beat, she yells a little too loudly, “McDonalds!”
You want to say yes, of course you do, but your shifts at the ER barely cover the minimum of your living expenses. Your resolve begins to crumble, however, when she looks at you with those saucer-round eyes, and her bottom lip juts out in the most precious pout. Who knew she could be so harmlessly manipulative?
“I don’t know, Ab. I think we have some chicken nuggets in the freezer at home, though,” you say, with an air of hopefulness that she might accept the compromise.
“Not the same,” she whines, “Please, Mommy! I’ll be extra extra good please–”
And with that, it’s over.
���Okay! Okay, fine,” you feign annoyance through a smile, “We’ll stop on the way home,”
You can still hear her squeals of excitement when you close the door and walk around to the driver's seat.
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Abbey dresses a little more cohesively for the open house than she did this morning. This time she’s clad in a thrifted pair of overalls overtop a little purple blouse. She leads you, hand in hand, inside the school like she knows exactly where she’s going– despite only having spent six hours here.
Steve’s classroom looks exactly how you’d expect. The walls are a light, mint green and it’s as if a character from Sesame Street threw up all over it. Abbey leads you to a reading nook in the corner of the room, surrounded by books and complete with several bean bag chairs, and proclaims this is her favorite spot. She shows you where her desk is– right in the very front of the classroom– and on it, a laminated sticker with her first and last name sits neatly near the top. The walls are lined with colorful letters in alphabetical order, accompanied with numbers just underneath them.
“Abbey!” you hear a familiar voice call, “I’m glad you and your mom could make it!” turning to you then, “I’m actually not sure I ever caught your name,” he chuckles awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by the fact that he doesn’t know it yet.
“Oh, it’s–” and before you get the chance to tell him, Abbey pipes up and tells him your first and last name with a confidence that she certainly didn’t have when it came to her own introduction this morning. You’re relieved that she feels so comfortable around him already.
He repeats your name back to you and holds out his hand for you to shake, “It’s nice to meet you,” You pay no mind to the way your heart beats a little faster in its cage at the sound of your name on his lips. His palm is surprisingly soft when you grasp it in your own.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” you grant him a polite smile, “Abbey could not stop talking about you on the way home,” you pinch her side, teasing, and she giggles in that contagious way that kids do.
“Is that so?” he feigns surprise when he looks at her.
“Nooo!” her giggles amplify as she becomes increasingly bashful.
He crouches down to meet her at eye-level, exactly like he did this morning, “Well, that’s a shame, because I think you might be one of my favorite students,”
Now, she’s a heap of laughter and has a blush spreading from the apple of her cheeks to the tips of her ears. You can’t help but feel enamored by how great he is with children, silently wondering if he comes from a big family, or if he has a child of his own.
“Did you introduce your mom to Nibbles?” he asks her when her laughing mostly subsides.
She gasps like she can’t believe she would’ve forgotten such a thing, then she hauls you by the arm over to a tiny cage on a table, presumably for an even tinier animal.
“Mommy, look! This is Nibbles,” She’s peering between the metal bars of the enclosure and encouraging you to do the same, when you lean in closer you see a small, tan gerbil sleeping in a little nest of bedding.
“He’s our friend and he helps us learn, so we have to be very careful with him,” she tells you with a sudden seriousness that's amusing to see displayed on such a young face. It’s obvious she’s parroting Steve.
You turn to see Steve observing from a few feet behind you, both hands shoved in his pockets, “I didn’t think teachers actually had class pets,” you breathe a huff of laughter.
“Oh, yeah,” he chuckles with you, “I brought him from home, actually. Figured he could use some socialization. With dozens of children.” he informs you sarcastically. God, he’s funny too.
“Wouldn’t have pegged you to be a hamster guy,” you tease.
“He’s a gerbil, first of all,”
“Right, sorry, my bad,” you smirk.
“No time for a dog, I guess,” he shrugs, “thought I could use the company,” he’s clearly still bantering, but there’s an underlying melancholy in his tone that you can’t quite place. Before you can think about it for longer than a second, an impatient five-year-old is tugging on your arm and begging to show you the library.
“Okay, alright,” you laugh, “better get to it, the library awaits,” you shoot him an apologetic look for having cut the conversation short. You feel less guilty, however, when you see more parents and children start to funnel into the classroom, busying him in yours and Abbey’s absence.
“See ya, “ he waves. 
“Bye, Mr. Harrington!” Abbey yells, already halfway down the hall. 
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In the library you have to shush Abbey several times, much to her dismay.
“We use our inside voices in the library, Ab,” you remind her for the fifth time. She frowns but it’s temporary when she spots her favorite section: the picture books. Abbey is ahead of a kindergarten reading level now, and it's one of her favorite hobbies, but you can still never go wrong with a good picture book.
You’re about to follow her when you hear someone call your name. 
You turn, “Stephanie?” you ask, puzzled.
“Oh my gosh! It’s been forever!” an old friend from your shared high school, Stephanie, pulls you into an unreciprocated bear hug. Squeezing and swaying back and forth for an awkward amount of time.
“Hey,” you draw out the last syllable and try to paint your voice with a nostalgic excitement, “How have you been?” you ask, even though you’re sure you’d rather be shot than continue this conversation.
You don’t know if you could really call Stephanie a ‘friend’, or if you ever could. The only reason she even knew your name being the shared, piranha-esq social circle you both ran in years ago. She reminded you of your past– who you used to be– someone who you’re not particularly proud of.
“Oh, I've been just fine!” She gestures wildly with manicured nails. Her lips are overlined and her hair is still damaged from bleaching and too many perms. Evidently, not a lot has changed. You ponder if she’s still the mean girl she always was underneath all that makeup, or if at some point in your adolescence she decided to mature.
“Todd and I just bought a house over on Maplewood, are you familiar?”
“Oh, no, not really– my daughter and I live across town,” You don’t like how ashamed you feel, “I’ve heard it’s beautiful over there, though,” you attempt to smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes.
“That was your daughter?” She’s trying not to sound taken aback and failing, “With–?”
“Yes,” Your teeth grit ever so slightly. You hate that she won’t say his name, as if speaking it into existence would somehow break you. Like you’re fragile.
“I was terribly sorry to hear about what happened, Hon,” Her sudden sympathetic tone irritates you, whether it’s genuine or not. You don’t need pity, especially not from Stephanie Nettles.
“It’s okay, Steph, really,” losing patience by the second, nothing about it was okay. “It was a long time ago, Abbey and I are doing fine,” you assure her.
“Oh,” she fawns as she presses her bony hands against her chest above her heart, “Can I meet her? Would you mind?" Her tone is saccharine sweet. You figure it can’t hurt, but when you turn around to retrieve Abbey, she’s not where you left her. The spot on the rug that she was previously occupying is empty and her book is abandoned on the floor.
“Abbey?!” Calling a little too loudly for the setting you’re in but you can’t bring yourself to care. You search row after row, it’s not a big library, and after every shelf you’re expecting her to be there– browsing novels and you’ll feel silly for overreacting.
But that doesn’t happen, and you realize with mild panic that she definitely left the library; somehow without you noticing. You suppose this is the safest place for her to go missing, but the thought doesn’t soothe you for long as you still have no idea where your daughter could be.
Stephanie is staring at you with concern, but still making no effort to help you locate Abbey. You don’t speak and neither does she as you rush out of the room and begin to pace the halls, still calling out for her. You check the bathrooms by the gym, a couple of empty classrooms that aren’t locked– she’s not there either.
When you’ve checked every available room and potential hiding spot in the near vicinity and still see no trace of her, that’s when the real dread sets in. What if she’d wandered outside and been taken? Or worse, there had been an accident and she’s hurt? She could be miles from here by now, she could be–
“I think this might belong to you,” a mellow voice rings out.
Steve and Abbey walk leisurely towards you, hand in hand. A complete contrast to the frazzled mess of anxiety you are right now. You hurl yourself in their direction and wrap Abbey up in a hug, lifting her off her feet.
“Oh my God, Abbey,” normally you’d be fuming at her for wandering off like that when you know that she knows better, but you can’t feel anything other than relief in the moment.
“Found her on the swings,” Steve continues, “Isn’t that right?”
Your relief does eventually morph to frustration, “You know better, Abbey Jane. Don’t stray off like that again. Do you understand?”
She succumbs to her guilt and you can tell her short-lived freedom has lost its novelty. “I’m sorry, mommy,” her little eyes well with tears. “The other kids were going to the swings, I wanted to go,” she pouts.
“We could’ve gone, baby, but you have to ask first, okay?”
Her meek response is muffled in the crook of your neck, “Okay,”
She’s still sniffling into your shoulder when you remember Steve is there, and your surroundings come back into focus.
“Thank you for finding her, Steve–”
“--His name is Mr. Harrington, mom,” she corrects like she can’t believe you’d embarrass her like that by calling her teacher the wrong name.
“--Mr. Harrington,” you stifle a laugh for your daughter's sake, sending him a knowing look.
He returns the expression, “Anytime,” he smiles, sweet . “Think that's enough scaring your mom for today, huh?”
Instead of acknowledging with words, she simply nods her head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.
“I think someones getting sleepy, might be time to head home,” you drag a gentle hand down her back soothingly.
“Will you carry me?” she asks too adorably to say no, despite her being ever-so-slightly too big for it. Grunting as you pick her up, you say, “Thanks, again,”
“No need,” he ruffles Abbey’s head lightly as you pass, “See you tomorrow, right?”
“See you,” her eyelids are heavy already. You make your way back to the car slowly but surely, arms growing more numb with every step.
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Abbey manages to bargain a bath out of you and four books before bedtime instead of the usual two. How you ever say no to her, you’re not sure. By the time you finally tuck her in, it's well past nine o’clock.
“Did you have a good day today?” You ask as you bend down to kiss her forehead.
“Yes, Mr. Harrington is my favorite teacher,” she proclaims drowsily.
“He’s your only teacher, Ab,” You snicker.
“But he’s still my favorite,” she replies in the same cadence one would say ‘Duh’.
“Well, I guess you’ll have to go to sleep super fast tonight so you can see him sooner, right?”
You can practically see the lightbulb turn on above her head like she’s just had a groundbreaking revelation and nods fervently. You tuck her in tight on both sides, and give her a kiss on each of her cheeks and once more to her forehead for good measure.
“Love you, Abbey girl,” you tell her on your way out, “Goodnight,”
“Goodnight, mommy,” she says wearily from underneath her princess bedsheets.
The door closes with a soft click and you make your way to the living room. You never had the chance to ask Stephanie what she was doing at the school– from what you knew, she didn’t have any children. Perhaps she was a teacher. It didn’t matter as long as you didn’t have to interact with her again.
As you lounged on your old sectional, you couldn't help your mind wandering back to thoughts of Steve. You wanted to know more about him. Where he came from, what made him want to work with kids, why he needed a gerbil to keep him company. Distantly, you imagined what he was like outside of an elementary school setting. You hoped one day you’d find out.
He was Abbey’s teacher, sure, but what was the harm in a little crush?
taglist - @soulxiez
divider credit to @/strangergraphics
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beloveds-embrace · 1 month ago
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Omg the dukedom sick reader was amazing. I'm so addicted I just love the thought that they are now realizing how far the relationship with the reader has gone. Will the reader recover? If they do, will the wound (is it on the leg?) be a constant reminder (if its something noticeable, like limp when they walk?) to the guys of what they did.
I really like the fact you put Kyle's perspective in there, how do you think the rest of the guys will react to the reader. Idk I just image a pale, malnourished person. Their face having dark circles around the eyes and just a somewhat sunken in face because of the fact they weren't eating.
How do you think the guys will try and make it up to the reader? I feel as if after that experience of being left in their room to rot, basically, they would want to be outside more, not in the manor. I see John having like a HUGE conservatory or greenhouse of plants that he used to visit just not anymore and just has his workers take care of all that with a courtyard.
I'm sorry for putting a lot
- 🐸
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@nes-kopi Thanks to all of you!! I combined the answer to these all together because they are pretty much in the same wavelength, i hope no one mind 😔 linking still doesn’t work otherwise i would be linking the masterlist ueueueueue dukedom masterlist au first part
The manor was eerily quiet, but not the kind of quiet that soothed. It was oppressive, heavy, pressing against you like a weight you can’t shake. The warmth of the fire in your chambers, the softness of the freshly laundered sheets, the smell of fresh flowers arranged by the maids who now came by regularly- it all felt like a mockery. A sharp contrast to the months of cold, desolate silence that had left you here: numb, broken, and hollow.
The room was silent, save for the faint creak of wood under your weight as you shifted on the bed. The prosthetic, heavy and foreign, rested against the edge, and you stared at it with a detached sort of hatred. It wasn’t the prosthetic itself; it was what it symbolized- what you had lost, what they had taken from you without even trying.
Your body ached constantly, even after so long spent under the doctors’ care.
Your heart ached more.
The warmth of the room now- the fire, the clean sheets, the gentle glow of the afternoon sun streaming through the newly opened curtains- did nothing to thaw the frost that has made itself a home in your chest.
They were trying now. Oh, they were trying. Even if they couldn’t bring themselves to look at you in the eye anymore, though you weren’t surprised; you look… horrific. You’ve been avoiding the mirror on purpose for a good while now.
You aren’t sure what is worse; the way they ignored you before or the way they hover now.
Every step you took was a struggle. The prosthetic leg strapped to your stump was heavy and awkward, the chafing unbearable at times. Its mere existence, its mere need, alone was enough to make you balk more often than not.
But you refused their help.
When Simon silently appeared at your side during your attempts to navigate the stairs, you waved him off. When Johnny offered his arm to steady you as you crossed the garden, you shook your head. When Kyle insisted on helping you carry things, you snapped at him to leave you be. You were trying to not rot away again, yet they were making it incredibly bothersome.
And John… John lingered the most, his piercing gaze trailing after you like a shadow. His voice was softer than you’d ever heard it, his every word laced with regret. A tone never, in your entire life, aimed at you.
You wondered if he was sincere. You wondered if it even mattered if he was.
“Let me help you, Duchess.” he said one morning, watching as you struggled to tighten the straps of your prosthetic. You have not called for any help from the maids or anyone even if they lingered, and you weren’t about to ask help from him of all people.
König would’ve helped-
“I don’t need your help.” you bit out sharply, your fingers trembling as they worked against the stubborn leather. You refuse to depend on him, especially for this. Why would you trust him, or any of them, after everything?
His jaw tightened, and he knelt before you, his large hands carefully prying yours away. “Please,” he said, his voice cracking. For once, he wasn’t a presence larger than life. “Let me. Just this once.”
Your instinct was to pull away, to snarl that it was too little, too late. But the exhaustion won. You sat back in the chair, your arms limp at your sides, and let him finish securing the straps. You wished you could feel anything except for the numbness and misery that has been clouding you for so long, but you couldn’t.
His hands were gentle, his fingers brushing against your skin with a reverence that made your chest ache.
Why did it take this much for them to care?-
They tried, in their own ways, to make amends.
Johnny started bringing meals directly to you, ones that catered to your preferences. He’d sit quietly at the edge of the room, cracking jokes or humming soft tunes, never leaving until you’d taken at least a few bites. The plates are always so well-decorated, the food so well cooked, not a single spot burnt or undercooked.
Kyle began organizing the staff, ensuring your chambers were kept warm and your belongings were arranged just how you liked them. He even replaced the stiff linens with softer ones and left books on your bedside table that he thought you might enjoy. You touched none of them.
Simon never said much, but his presence was almost constant. He became your silent sentinel, appearing whenever you struggled, watching over you from a distance. He didn’t speak often, but his eyes held a kind of quiet guilt that spoke louder than words but you decided that just this once, you’ll defean your ears.
And John…
John was everywhere. He lingered outside your door at night, the faint creak of the floorboards betraying his pacing. He watched you with an intensity that made your skin crawl, not out of fear but because you couldn’t reconcile this man with the one who had left you to rot. You had nothing to say to him. You barely had the strength to refuse his help attempts already.
The days blurred together, each one a series of numb moments punctuated by pain. The servants were more attentive now even without Kyle, but you couldn’t bear their pitying looks. The maids still whispered, though the words had changed:
Poor thing. How awful.
You avoided them all.
The manor felt smaller somehow, its walls closing in no matter where you went. You found solace in the gardens- when the weather allowed and you had the strength to navigate the terrain. The cold didn’t bother you anymore; it was the one constant, a reminder that you were still alive, still breathing. Unfortunately.
They watched from the windows sometimes, their gazes following as you limped across the grounds. You didn’t acknowledge them.
Something in you broke when the doctor told you you had to stop those trips for now, for your own health. Like the miserable thing you are, he didn’t even say it to you- but to John. Told him not to let you dilly dally around.
That very same night, after you’d spent hours pushing yourself to the brink- trying to walk farther, faster, to prove you could, even as the prosthetic left your stump raw and aching anew- you collapsed into bed, trembling with exhaustion.
You thought you were alone.
The tears came before you could stop them, hot and bitter as they slid down your cheeks. Pain radiated through your leg, your shoulders, your back. But worse was the weight in your chest- the overwhelming suffocation of it all.
You buried your face in your pillow, trying to muffle the sobs that wracked your body. You didn’t hear the door creak open, didn’t see John standing there, frozen in the doorway.
He stayed there, his fists clenched at his sides, listening to your muffled weeping. His chest ached with the knowledge that this was his doing; that every single tear, every shuddering breath, was because of him and the others.
When your cries finally quieted, exhaustion lulling you to a peace-less sleep, he stepped back, closing the door as silently as he’d opened it.
Several days later, he personally led you outside.
You didn’t ask where you were going; you didn’t have the energy. When the massive glass conservatory came into view, you stopped, your breath catching in your throat. Were those… your favorite flower as well?
“I had this built for you,” John said, his voice low, hesitant. “I thought… after everything, you might want a place of your own. Somewhere to breathe.” Somewhere you can stay and walk around in.
The conservatory was beautiful, filled with lush greenery, colorful flowers, and a gentle bubbling fountain at its center. The glass walls let in streams of sunlight, and the air inside was warm and fragrant. This must’ve been in the process for a while now.
You stepped inside, your prosthetic clinking softly against the stone floor, yet you didn’t hear it. The beauty of the place was overwhelming, almost unbearably so.
“This doesn’t fix anything,” you said, your voice trembling. It didn’t, truthfully. It didn’t bring your leg back, it didn’t wash away the dark cloud clinging to you. It didn’t wash away the pain.
“I know,” John murmured, his gaze fixed on the ground. His shoulders were slumped. “But it’s a start. You deserve something… beautiful. Better. The gardens brought you peace, and I can hope that this does the same.”
You turned to find Johnny, Simon, and Kyle standing behind him, their expressions a mixture of hope and guilt.
“We’ll keep trying,” Kyle added softly.
You stared at them, your chest tight, the weight of your pain and exhaustion threatening to crush you.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you.” you whispered.
“We don’t expect you to,” Simon’s voice was quiet. “But we’re not going anywhere. We’ll be here for you regardless.”
“…don’t expect this to change anything.”
John’s voice was so painfully soft, but you didn’t notice. You were limping towards the flowers, gait uneven but determined. “I don’t.”
That night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the memory of the conservatory lingered. It was a reminder of what could have been—of what you might have had if they had tried sooner.
You still didn’t trust them.
But part of you, the part that still remembered what hope felt like, wanted to.
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