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hyckstarz · 1 month ago

Text

breaking the rival code | l.mk

pairing. rival!mark lee x afab reader

word count. 6.1k

genre. smut · enemies to lovers trope · humour

synopsis. Mark had a way of getting on your nerves, to the point you'd even considered shutting him up for good. However, your best friend eventually planted a seed in your head that fucking your rival, and breaking the unspoken code, would be enough to finally end the long-standing feud.

warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, fingering, use of pet name (baby), choking, oral (fem receiving), haechan as best friend and instigator

A/N. i had this buried in my drafts for months but it had me screaming into my own pillow whenever i read it so, it couldn't stay unpublished for long.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Mark Lee," she's fuming, as per usual. Eyebrows tightly knit and throwing daggers with her hard glare while Mark just laughs, "It's due next week, and you haven't even written up a plan?!"

Mark rolls his eyes, his glasses almost slipping down his nose, doodling absentmindedly in his notebook, "Relax, that's 168 hours of time to work on it, it's nothing."

She sinks back into her chair, crossing her arms in that arrogant way — as Mark would describe it, "Actually, it's less than 84 hours if you factor in sleep, other classes you have to go to, and fucking surviving. Mark, do you take anything seriously?"

Mark rubs his face in frustration, facing her, "It's the first year; none of this counts towards our grade," he goes back to doodling small Spider-Man caricatures but, as always, he can't resist having the last word, "And you're too serious, princess. Live a little."

Small things like that always set her off. She was aware of how she came across but, when it involved Mark, she only ever saw red. She somehow manages to calm herself down, realising they're in the campus library and already earning a few curious, judgemental stares.

"Mark...," she manages to whisper somewhat loudly, leaning in close enough for him to feel her minty breath against his skin, "Can we please get most of this done today? I'd very much like to be free of your presence."

Mark chuckled under his breath, his dark eyes slowly drifting over her subtle features, raising a brow in amusement — the weight of his gaze caused the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. Finally, he gave in and pulled out his laptop. He began clicking through their assignment brief and taking notes down, surprising even her, who started doing the same. As English literature students, it was a given that they had to read a stack of novels and articles, even for an assignment worth 0% towards their final grade.

Yet even small victories in their relationship were rare. It was a miracle that they were somehow able to work through the tasks efficiently, though that moment was short-lived before they were at each other’s throats, with Y/N starting it again.

"Mark, we're meant to critically analyse, not describe. Do you have any working brain cells in that thick head of yours?" Her fingers twitched, as if to hold herself back from clenching her fists and knocking some ounce of sense into him.

He rolls his eyes in response, jaw hardening as he scowled at her, clearly not in the mood for their usual back and forth, "We need to have a synopsis of the texts, I don't know how else you expect me to include all of the relevant info without having a short paragraph in there."

She simply looks at him in disbelief, shaking her head as if he'd just said the most absurd thing ever, "Mark... do you really think we can afford a whole paragraph just on a summary?"

He just chuckles in response, clearly uncaring. She leaned forward, her fingers digging into the desk and turning white as she struggled to maintain her composure. Mark’s casual smile only fuelled her irritation, but she lets out a heavy sigh, judgy eyes flicking across his face.

"You're like those pretty dumb blondes; the only thing you've got going for you are your looks, sorry to say," she sneers, going back to taking notes, but she internally curses at herself for admitting she found him at least objectively attractive.

Mark pauses, head snapping to her, his eyes flicking over her features, trying to decipher what she'd just said, or if he'd even heard her correctly under the hushed whispers of the library. He spins the pencil in his hand, eyes narrowing at her as a smug expression tugs on the corners of his lips, "You think I'm good looking? I'm flattered."

Y/N gives him an exasperated glance, snorting at his sudden change in demeanour and sitting up to look at him straight on, "I know you took me for a fool, but a blind one too? Damn," she said with a sarcastic lilt.

When Mark doesn't respond, just a cocky smirk widening — his gaze intense — she feels her heart rapidly beat against her chest and, as a way to hide the effect he has on her, she rolls her eyes for the nth time that hour, clearing her throat and focusing back on her task, "If you weren't so annoying, or if you learnt how to shut your mouth and do things correctly, you'd have a lot more going for you," she sends him a glare, "But you don't, so your looks only take you so far, and that's below average in my books."

He mocks in response, "Wow, you read? How surprising."

This time, she couldn't hold herself back. Mark did have a way with getting under her skin, so well in fact, that it led to them being asked to leave the library, only furthering their frustration and anger towards one another.

It wasn't always like this, either. When Mark had first met her, he was a shy, slightly awkward teenage boy and, the first impression she had of him, was cute. He was incredibly sweet and outgoing; it was easy for him to make friends and that meant they easily got close too. The only problem was, they were so alike in all the wrong ways. He was just too competitive and stubborn, always aiming for the top, and so was she. It was only natural that friends turned to rivals, competing with one another over everything. With that being an understatement.

From whom could get to the cafeteria the fastest, to who could submit their assignment the earliest and get the highest grade? It was competition, after competition. Most would get exhausted after the first two or three, but for them, it was thrilling, though they'd never admit that to one another.

"I can't believe your loudmouth got us kicked out of the library," his jaw hardened as he met her intense gaze, "Can't you sit still and take comments with some sort of, I don't know, strength? Because clearly, you're so sensitive over such simple, meaningless words," He slings his bag over his shoulder, already walking off.

Only further proving his point, she chases after him, tugging at his arm so that he wouldn't get away.

"You're the one who can't let things go either, always needing to have the last word, what are you, a child?" she crosses her arms and nods her head with a questioning brow, as if to say, 'go on'.

Mark just scoffs, about to walk off before turning around, his hands moving in frustration as he glares down at her, "You- you're such a pain in the ass, you know that? You really know how to drive me crazy."

He's panting, frustration evident. But it was the way he was looking at her that threw her completely off balance. His narrowed eyes flicked to her lips, brows furrowed as though he were etching her features into his long-term memory. She felt her heart drumming in her chest.

Before she could respond, a familiar yet equally as annoying mutual friend of theirs appears, snickering at the pair and their usual quarrelling, "Jeez, can't you two just fuck already?"

"Shut the fuck up, Haechan" they both say in unison, tearing their gaze away from one another with a scowl.

Haechan only snorts, glancing between the pair with an amused brow, "Clearly there's some sexual tension that I'm interrupting here, it would explain why you look at each other like that," He leans in-between them, as if to reveal the biggest secret in history, "I bet you two dream about each other too — in, you know, that kinda way."

Mark just stands there, mouth agape and in disbelief at the absurdity Haechan was spewing, looking between the two. Y/N just scoffed, grabbing the man by his bag and pulling him away without so much of a word. Haechan waved a chaste goodbye to Mark as he was being dragged off to God knows where.

Someone was going to die today, and it was definitely Haechan.

It was quiet. Way too quiet. The coffee shop was empty, hence for the low whispers of the baristas in the far corner, and a cheeky Haechan sitting before her, happily drinking his iced tea after telling his two closest friends that they should fuck each other. She groans, letting her head fall into the palm of her hands.

Usually, this coffee shop was a place where she could find peace and solitude. It was bright, with large windows that let light in all throughout the day, creating a florescent streak of amber and pink through the thin stickers attached to the panels. The colour schemes could easily brighten one's day as whites and pinks peppered along the walls.

The foliage brought life to what would otherwise seem like a cold, simple design, and the bakery added a subtle hint of beige, creating a natural environment. But the best thing about any coffee shop, was the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, and the sounds of the machine working, or even the quiet conversations. Though, sounds were non-existent today, except for her constant groaning, which started to bother her best friend.

"If you make one more frustrated sound, I'm leaving," he takes another sip of his cool drink, "Is it because of what I said earlier? Just know, I wasn't lying, that would definitely help you two."

She pulls her hands away, pursing her lips as she started twirling her straw, watching the milk mix with the coffee and caramel, "No, it's because I'm... I don't know, frustrated?"

Haechan glared incredulously, "Clearly."

"Not like that, I meant... I miss how Mark and I used to be, how we would laugh at silly jokes, or talk for hours without it having to turn into a competition, but now everything he says or does has a way of getting under my skin," She takes a sip of her drink, eyes twinkling at the taste, "He could just be sitting there, doing absolutely nothing, and I'd I just want to-"

"Want to what?" Haechan asks, ears perking up, waiting for a gotcha moment.

"Well, what I usually do." She shrugs, going back to her drink.

Haechan takes everything she says in, nodding his head slowly, "Anyway, it's sort of funny as Mark said the same kinda thing to me the other day...," Haechan takes a sip of his drink, whining when he finds it empty, "He said he missed the old you, or when you guys used to be friends."

She pauses, meeting her waiting friend’s gaze. Her brows furrow. Mark... missed how they used to be? But she doesn't say anything to Haechan, keeping her thoughts to herself.

The usual smug expression returns as he leans back in his chair, leg bouncing under the table out of habit as he crossed his arms behind his head, "Anyway, as I said, you need to get your frustrations out in other ways. You clearly have a thing for each other. The way you express it is a little... unconventional, but you're both immature, so I'm not surprised."

She simply looks at her friend in disbelief, lips parted as she gapes at him, to which Haechan only grins annoyingly at her. He also had a way with words, just like Mark, except he seemed to understand boundaries a lot better, and was chill enough to not want to fight back.

"What? Please tell me you two at least have moments of either flirting with each other or checking the other person out-"

"No." She scowls, shivering at the thought. Though, she couldn't help but remember the way he'd looked at her earlier, brushing off the thought, "It's hard enough to even look at him without wanting to strangle him."

"Okay, so you're into choking, got it." Haechan chuckles, nodding as if to make a mental note of it.

"No, I'm not into that! Whatever, look, I don't have a thing for him, so just drop it." She looks at him with a serious, intense gaze, as if to emphasise the fact she really didn't want to talk about this anymore.

Her friend only nods, putting his hands up in mock surrender, "Okay, just know Mark would definitely jump you if he had the chance — I mean, which guy would put up with your shit? No offence."

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink in hopes it would be refreshing enough to block out her growing irritation, "Anyway, the sooner I get this assignment done, the sooner I can move on from this Mark topic."

She quickly pulls out her phone before Haechan could drop in another one of his grand ideas, finding Mark's contact and immediately sending him a text. She almost spat out her drink at how fast he had responded.

You: Let's just get this assignment done with. I don't feel like getting kicked out of yet another establishment, so just come over to mine tomorrow or something.

You: *sends her address*

Mark: Fun.

Mark: I'll be there around 4 if that works

You: 👍

She bit her nails anxiously, eyes glancing between the door and the clock on the wall - each tick of the hands signalled it was only getting closer to 4, which was when Mark said he would arrive.

That wasn't why she was anxiously boring holes into the clock, however. She could curse the heavens, the earth and the 12 Olympians, but instead, she chose to curse the lust demon himself, aka Haechan. She buried her head in her hands, tugging at the roots of her hair in frustration. She can't believe she dreamt of Mark last night for the first time and, it wasn't just any dream — which was the worst part. Why did her mind have to be so vivid and make Mark so incredibly sexy? She had no idea.

When a knock came from the door, she stood up a little too quickly, rushing to it and praying that Mark looked far from presentable than he had been in her dream. But he wasn't, of course. She'd never seen him in jeans before and the green hoodie was the cherry on top. She swallowed hard, peering up at him as he adjusted his glasses.

"Are you going to let me in?" He raised a brow, his dark eyes glancing over her features in suspicion, taking a quick, subtle glimpse at her plaid sweatpants and pink t-shirt that didn't do much to hide the outline of her bra. He swallowed hard, tonguing the inside of his cheek in annoyance yet, the only thing that swirled in his mind were thoughts of how fucking attractive she was without even trying.

His annoyed expression grounded her temporarily, falling back into her usual demeanour as she rolled her eyes and held the door open wider for him, "If I catch you slacking once, I'll kick your ass out of here."

Mark gives her a side eye, frowning before kicking his shoes off, "Are you trying to motivate me not to do the work?"

She laughs sarcastically, leading him to her room as she props herself on her bed, noticing Mark looking over her interior.

"I expected your place to be put together, but not drenched in pink," his gaze trailed over her shelf, taking note of the various photo frames and mini ornaments.

She chuckles under her breath, pulling out her laptop and notes, "What, too girly for me?"

He turns his gaze to her, a quiet silence envelops them for a moment, and she takes that time to admire him. She knew he was attractive — objectively — but never had she looked at him in that way. The kind of way that made her heart and mind race.

Mark finally straightens up with a shrug, sitting down on the edge of the bed and getting his things out as well.

It felt strange having Mark in her home. If it weren't for getting kicked out of the library, her apartment would have been the last place he would be at. Though, now seeing him sat almost politely at a respectable distance from her, typing away on his keyboard quietly, made it start to feel right somehow.

She opened their shared document, reading the notes he was typing up. Even though he tended to be a lazy ass — or a procrastinator, as he would call it — there was no doubt he had a way with words. When he really put his mind to something, he would always deliver quality work. At times, she'd look back on why they had turned rivals, or enemies, and then she'd see what a complete genius he was. Maybe it was always her. Maybe she was just jealous that, no matter how hard she worked, Mark would always be ten steps ahead.

"I wrote up all the notes," Mark's voice cut through her thoughts, "How far did you get?"

She turned back to her laptop, pursing her lips at the blank screen. When she took her time responding, Mark scrolled down the document to where her cursor was and sent her a deadpanned expression, "What did you say about slacking off...?"

She doesn't know whether to laugh or smack him, so she picks the secret third option and scowls, "I did more work than you yesterday."

"That's old news," he sighed, looking through their to-do list, "I thought you wanted to get this assignment done and dusted because... what was the reason again? Oh yeah, you wanted nothing to do with me."

She scoffs, sitting up as she points an accusatory finger at him, "Don't act like you don't feel the same way."

Mark clears out the already completed tasks on the list, colour coding the other bullet points to distribute the work evenly between them, "Oh I do, and I wonder why." He doesn't even spare her a glance.

"Go on."

"Maybe it's because you continuously bitch over every little thing, it's no wonder Haechan is the only friend you have and, it's probably because he's waiting for some kind of green light," Mark's bitter words reeked of jealousy as he spoke through clenched teeth and narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me?" She shrieks before she leans over the bed and grasps at his hoodie, his hand immediately grabbing her wrist, "That's too far, Mark, even for you."

He raised an unamused brow at her, fingers tightening on her wrists, yet she doesn't waver, "Maybe, but I'm sick of it. All you ever do is complain and treat me like some sort of idiot and, when I give you the same energy, I'm the problem."

His voice is tight, jaw hard as he doesn't break the eye-contact. She pulls him in closer, anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach, "What a joke, you're just as much of a problem as I am and, you know what? Maybe Haechan was right, maybe we need to fuck for us to finally pull our shit together."

The moment those words leave her lips, she regrets them. From up close, he was even more attractive that those words naturally came out. Mark's eyes widened comically and she could almost see the cogs turning in his mind.

His brows furrowed, "Wait, you’re serious? You’re actually suggesting that?" his voice carried a disbelieving tone despite his cheeks growing redder by the minute.

If it weren't for the dream she had last night, or that stupid green hoodie he was wearing right now, she would have laughed it off as a joke or even knocked him out in hopes he'd forget what nonsense she'd just spewed. However, all she could think about in that moment were his hands gripping at her plush thighs, spreading them apart as he lodged himself between her legs, his soft lips parting against hers desperately. She swallowed hard.

"Yes, I am suggesting that," she doubles down, the words more confident now. She knew she wanted him, even if he drove her bat-shit crazy. Even if he'd think she's bat-shit crazy.

It was almost laughable how wide Mark's eyes had gotten, his lips parted in shock, "you're fucking serious, Y/N?" This was too cruel of a joke from someone like Y/N. He knew she would rather curse him out than make absurd suggestions such as sleeping with each other. And the more he thought about it, on top of the intense gaze she carried, the more he believed she was being serious.

She leaned in, her warm breath fanning against his skin. She could smell his musky cologne — it was a scent she felt she could easily get addicted to, "I am serious, Mark," her big, doe eyes peered up at him through her lashes, "Hell, I even dreamt of you last night thanks to that blabby-mouthed Haechan."

Mark suddenly grows flustered, averting his gaze. She dreamt of him? His words practically came out like a croak from the nerves, "H-hey, that's a little..."

She raised a brow, waiting for him to continue his sentence yet he'd only grown quiet, his jaw clenched as he processed the situation. He felt his throat go dry and, the way she was staring at him made him feel breathless - a little too out in the open under her gaze. It was taking everything in him to hold back, but their shared history and his growing annoyance towards her kept him stuck in place.

"What? Mark, don't be a pussy," she scoffed. Despite her harsh words, they had rolled off of her tongue like honey, "Do you want this or not?"

Mark's head whips to her, his brows furrowed, "I am not...," the words faltered on his tongue as his hands came to rest behind her on the bed, his nose brushing against hers. He was way bigger than her, his arms caging her in, looming over her, "I'm not as much of a loser as you think I am, Y/N," the words were bitter; however, he felt like he was falling too deep.

Being this close to her, with her wide, surprised eyes staring back at him, her flowery perfume more prominent at the proximity, and her warm breath... He couldn't find it in him to deny it anymore, "Fuck, I do want this," he muttered, the whispered confession slipping past his lips before he himself could process the words.

At that, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pressing his nose fully against hers, "I want this too." Her soft words drew him in like a moth to a flame and it felt like the string that held onto his sanity had snapped.

Mark pressed his lips to her glossy, pink ones that tasted like cherry, breathing in her flowery scent, to which she parted her lips against his in response. His hands gripped at the soft flesh of her waist, pulling her in impossibly close. He tasted minty, mixing with his musky cologne and it was like she couldn't think straight anymore, losing her grip on reality and, instead, losing herself in him. In Mark. Her supposed enemy and rival.

It didn't take long for her to pull him on top of her, her back falling against the mattress whilst her leg rode up his side, hooking over his hips. He trailed open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck, nipping at her skin and down the valley of her clothed breasts. She was going insane, and it was his fault, "Mark, take off my damn shirt already," she groaned in frustration, sitting up.

He didn't waste any time. Stripping off her shirt, he subtly admired her plush breasts which sat pretty in her lilac laced bra, barely leaving anything up to his imagination. As much as she got on his nerves, he couldn't deny the effect she had on him by being effortlessly gorgeous even as her brows were tightly knit. He pushed her back down onto the bed, planting his hands on either side of her head, "Are you always this demanding?"

"Only with you," she mutters, tugging at his hoodie impatiently, to which he chuckles, taking it off. She couldn’t help but gawk at him, sending him a glare for being more attractive than her dreams could ever do justice.

He kisses her again, his hand trailing down the side of her breasts, not giving her time to run her mouth. Then, his hand pulls the bra down, letting her breasts slip out as he cupped and kneaded the soft mounds, groaning into her mouth at how they fit perfectly in his hand. He rolled the nub between his fingers, grazing his thumb over them.

Mark kisses down her body, taking a nipple into his mouth — biting and tugging at it as his hand continued to twist the other between his thumb and index. He relished in the soft sounds that escaped her lips and the way she tugged at the locks of his hair.

He continued to move down her body, his finger hooking under the waistband of her sweatpants as he met her gaze, "I know you beat my ass over this, but you sure this is what you want?"

She deadpanned at him, "You just made out with my breasts, Mark. If I didn't want this, I would have stopped you there."

Mark just rolls his eyes in response, slipping her sweatpants down, "Could have just said yes."

She's about to retort when she feels his hand cup her, finger tracing the clothed slit of her pussy and she has to bite her lip to stop her from making a sound. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction so soon. Didn't want him to know just how badly she wanted him — more than she'd like to admit.

However, Mark was as stubborn and competitive as she was, and he wouldn't hold back until she gave in. He pushes her underwear to the side, leaning in so that his warm breath fanned against her sensitive folds, causing her to whimper.

'Fuck,' she thought.

Mark, without warning, slowly licks a stripe up her slit, his flat tongue drawing out a shudder from her — back naturally arching. Each time, he'd go in for more, slowly bringing up the pace. Her thighs clamped around his head, holding him hostage until he groaned and grabbed onto her plush thighs, pinning them to the bed; fingers leaving marks along her soft skin. Her own fingers grabbed at anything they could, from the sheets beneath her, to the healthy lock of hair on his head, letting them knot around her digits and tug with every wave of pleasure he had given her.

She could feel his cocky smirk as he sucked on her clit, enjoying every moment of her falling apart on his mouth. Falling apart for him. When he pulls away from her, she let's out a frustrated whine to which Mark only laughs at, "Open your mouth."

She sends him a skeptical look, "Fuck no."

Mark's patience wears thin, "Don't be a stubborn brat now."

Surprisingly, she obliged and he pushes his fingers past her plush, kiss-swollen lips. Her mouth suckles on the digits, tongue swirling around them, and he retracts his fingers with a pop.

"Fuck, your mouth really does have uses other than spewing insults and demands," he teases, voice low, tracing her entrance which had her letting out shallow breaths.

"At least it has more use than your fingers-" her words cut short when he pushes his finger in, palm pressed to her clit as he looks up at her with a 'you sure about that?' look.

It doesn't take long for Mark to add a second finger, curling them in search for the spot that would make her see stars. And then, he finds it, and she let's out a sharp gasp which only grows louder when his lips wrap around her clit, continuing his earlier ministrations of lapping at her folds like a man starved.

Just as her dreams failed in visualising just how attractive her nemesis was, it had also failed in expressing how utterly, impossibly, and irritatingly good he was with his hands, lips, tongue-

"Mark, fuck-!" She starts to tense under him, eyes pierced shut as she chases that feeling of ecstasy.

"I believe I'm getting there...," Mark chuckles, the vibration of his voice fluttering against her.

And, just as she starts to see the twinkling behind her eyelids, the light at the end of the dark tunnel, and a glimpse of the heavens, Mark pulls away, leaving her empty, wanting, and embarrassingly needy.

Forget Haechan, Mark was the number one man on her hit list.

In a second, he's over her again, cupping the back of her neck and lifting her slightly up to kiss her. She can taste herself on his tongue, feel the way his lips apply just the right amount of pressure to say he's here, and it's so soft, so gentle, so wanting — it was the perfect contrast, the perfect contradiction to the image she'd created in her mind of him. His thumb brushes against her jaw, fingers tangling in her hair, before he pulls away, forehead resting on hers as he breaths against her.

His eyes flicker open to gaze down at her; warm and oh so inviting. It felt like the Mark she once knew. The genuine, loving and calming person. Though his next words threw her completely off balance, and she was quick to retract her claims.

"I'm going to fuck that sexy, infuriating attitude out of you, baby," he lets the pet name draw out. In every other context, with any other person, she would have cringed at that word, but it felt so undeniably attractive coming out of his lips, that she wanted to hear him say it more than once.

Mark got up off of the bed, pulling out his wallet to fish for a condom that had been in there for God knows how long, chucking it on the bed next to her and kicking off his jeans and boxers in record speed. She barely had a millisecond to admire the sheer length of him before he was on her again.

His deep brown eyes kept their hold on hers and she could see a subtle hint of affection; the space between his brows crinkling in focus as he slowly pushed into her. His calloused fingers pressed along her waist, leaving white marks along her curves, while she could feel every ridge, vein and pulse of his cock.

When he bottomed out, she immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in impossibly close. Needing him closer to her. She could feel the rough planes of his body pressed to her soft ones as he started to rock against her. He gripped her thigh, pushing it further up so he could angle himself better, remembering the spot that had her seeing stars earlier.

Each time he'd hit that spot, she'd clench naturally, rocking her hips to meet his that had him softly groaning by her ear. He smelt so good, felt so good, was so good. She felt her mind start to fog up, jaw slack from the loud, erotic sounds that forced its way out from her throat. It was too much in the best possible way.

That wasn't as far as Mark would go though, he wouldn't stop at just good. He wanted best. His hand snakes up her body, gently wrapping around her neck — thumb pressed to her jaw — as he applied enough pressure to her pulse point. She knew then that maybe she did actually enjoy being choked or, at least, enjoyed anything Mark did.

She throws her legs around his waist, pulling him down, desperate to feel more of him, to reach her release she craved, pride long forgotten, "Mark... Mark, fuck- please..."

Mark pressed a sweet, uncharacteristic kiss to her cheek, "Please what, baby?" he brushed the strands away from her forehead, never halting his movements.

"Need more of you...," She could barely get the words out, but Mark knew exactly what she meant. Without time for her to process, he flipped her onto her stomach, pressing her face against the pillows, fingers tangled in her silky hair as he snapped his hips into her with more strength.

She could have sworn she started hallucinating seeing stars in the room from how deep he was reaching in this new angle, hitting her spot with added ease. Her glossy lips stayed parted against the pillows, drool staining the cotton case as she let out soft grunts.

Mark's head rolled back at the filthy sounds of her and how fucked out she looked. It made him want to carve this scene into the deepest part of his memory, "You're doing so good for me... So pretty like this."

His soft voice did not match the roughness of his fucking, but it made her clench around him, "C-close..."

Mark hummed, grabbing locks of her hair and tugging it back so that she arches against him, "Be a good girl and come all over my cock, then."

She nods eagerly, reaching behind him to grab at his hips, urging him to go faster, harder. She chased that release as if seeking closure from her pent up frustrations at Mark and hers usual bickering and challenges. She sits up to lean against him, knees pressed to the mattress and head rested on his collarbone — his own arms wrapping around her body. Finally, she came, body shuddering in his hold and, at the feel of her convulsing around his length, Mark bit her neck, muffling his sweet sounds as he followed suit.

They stayed like that for a while, panting, hair sticking to their foreheads. She wouldn't be close to exaggerating by saying this was the best sex she'd ever had, but she would also blame that on the sheer tension they carried for years around one another.

When Mark slips out of her, she fully expects him to make some usual smart comment, but he only pulls her with him as he lay in her bed, keeping his arms around her, "Who knew we'd be so compatible?"

She snorts, "I can name at least one person," she thinks of her best friend, the whole reason this night even happened and speeding up the process between them.

Mark smiles, snuggling into her and letting out a soft sigh, feeling sleep catching up to him, "I hope this isn't just a one time thing, though," he says suddenly with a soft voice, "you don't know how long I wanted this for. Wanted you. It drove me insane trying to be... I guess, respectful and casual about it all."

She sat up, turning to look down at him with a playful look of disbelief, "I call bullshit, you weren't respectful about nothing. Not that I'm complaining, it's attractive seeing you annoyed."

Mark rolls his eyes, smirking at her, his cockiness returning, "I knew you found me more than just objectively attractive, you're down bad."

She easily admits it, "Yeah, I am. But you're in way deeper for asking Haechan for advice of all people."

Mark immediately sits up, his face pale from the shock despite his cheeks being flushed, "Dude- Wait, what?"

"We're on dude terms now after you fucked an outline of my body into this mattress?" she scoffs, her crude words making Mark increasingly more flustered than he already was, "The choking kinda gave it away. I just know Haechan threw that in conversation with you."

Mark laughed sheepishly, pulling her into his chest as he pressed a kiss to her temple, "Guilty as charged. Though, I'm proposing we get back at his arrogant ass by not telling him a thing. We'll slowly drop hints to mess with him a little — see how long it takes for him to catch on."

"I'm in," She giggles, feeling sleep overtake her as she nestled into Mark's chest.

Before today, neither of them would have imagined that fucking each others rival would be the secret to finally ending the long-standing feud and breaking the rival code.

#mark lee smut #mark x reader #mark imagine #mark lee #nct mark smut #nct smut #nct x reader #nct #idol au #kpop au #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #haechan #mark smut #꒰ hyckstarz ꒱

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jaysbaefie · 2 months ago

Text

nerd | pjs

synopsis: in which you push the schools nerd past his limits, resulting in you being bent over his desk with your hands behind your back and your butt gleaming red.

genre: highschool au

pairing: nerd!jay x bully afab!reader

warnings: where to begin… mean dom!jay, bratty!reader, sub!reader, egotistical!reader, dubcon(ish), teasing, name calling, reader punches jay, tormenting, spanking, oral (m and f rec.), choking, gagging, slapping, orgasm denial, forced submission, restraining, pussy spanking, fingering, usage of ‘sir’, titty sucking, rough p in v, hair pulling, marking, slapping, blackmail, threats…i think that’s it :D

wc: 12.1k

a/n: new big fic out. i can’t lie ive been procrastinating so hard but this is a small make up fic because i wont be very active for the next few weeks because of finals :( uni is kicking ass rn so hopefully this will keep yall satisfied for the next few weeks! thank you for over 350 followers that’s so insane. i am also looking for an editor/proof reader for fics because i hate to proof read. if ur interested pm me! anyways, enjoy <333

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

you walk down the semi-busy hallway, clutching your books to your chest in a tight and unforgiving grip. your day had already started off rough, with your little brother slamming his fist into your cereal causing the milk to splatter all over you.

you had to remember that he was 5 years old and your brother in order to not lose your shit on him. simply brushing off the incident and changing into your spare old school shirt which fit you a little to tight.

"fucking math class is going to be the death of me," you mutter to yourself with a scowl as you take a right and walk past the seemingly never ending line of lockers.

stomping through the door you're met with several familiar faces, one particular face causing an almost evil grin to take over your face.

jay park.

the school's biggest nerd, but your favourite play thing.

oh how fun it is to bother him and get him all flustered and shy, and suddenly your mood has shifted. "at least i have some entertainment," you think to yourself as you makes your way towards the boy.

passing by him you make sure that he sees you, his expression dropping as you watch his adam's apple bob.

cute.

you brush up against his arm as you walk by, deciding to sit right behind him. you lean back, placing your books onto the table with a soft thud.

"uhm, hi?" the girl who you hadn't noticed sat beside you uttered. you mentally roll your eyes before giving her the fakest smile you could muster up.

"hi, uh.." you take a second to look the girl up and down, trying to figure out her name. your eyes eventually land on a worksheet of hers which laid on the desk, "vicky..?" you question with a squint of your eyes as you attempt to read the name that was messily printed on her paper.

she nods before smiling brightly, bringing her hand up to shake yours, only for her to be turned down.

"not interested," you quip your eyes squinting as your fake smile extends, "so, stay in your lane vicky."

yes, that was a bit harsh. but you had a reputation to live up to and you weren't going to let this irrelevant girl be comfortable with you.

the girl lets out a small gasp, her mouth falling agape unattractively before letting out a small 'hmph', turning her head away. it almost insulted you that vicky thought that you'd even consider being friends with her.

"dramatic bitch," you mutter, rolling your eyes as you rest your cheek on the palm of your hand.

you pull out your phone, noticing that you had a few minutes before class started. a small smirk graces your face, you had time for some fun.

you peer up from your phone, staring down the back of jays head. his hair was dark and neatly brushed back, all you wanted to do was run your hands through it to ruin it as he scrambled to fix it.

slowly lifting your leg you rest it on the back of his chair, making sure to give the chair a little push to make your presence known as if jay wasn't already hyper aware of you.

jay feels pressure on the back of his chair, letting out a small sigh before pushing up his falling glasses with his index finger—taking a deep breath through his nose as he tries to keep calm.

he already knew who it was and didn't bother looking up, continuing to scribble down on his work for another class.

your smirk stays intact, your foot tracing along the top of the cheap plastic chairs, knowing that jay could essentially feel your shoe on his back. you soon slip through the small gap in the seat, the tip of your sneakers gliding against his crisp white school shirt.

jay felt a shiver run through him, he held in his breath before shaking his head in annoyance—grumbling softly to himself.

he knew that you wouldn't stop until you got a good rise out of him, he was prepared for the worst.

"jongie," you whisper, leaning foreword against your forearms which were planted on the desk to keep you balanced and upright.

jay swallows harshly at his name coming out of your mouth in a low whisper, his hands clenching his pencil tightly as he continues to swiftly work through his sheets.

you knew that he was going to ignore you, which is why you decide to sit down again and lean back so your legs could reach further.

you kick the leg of his chair, which didn't end up moving much due to his weight holding the chair down firmly.

just before you could kick the back of the chair where his shirt was exposed, the teacher walks in. you pull your leg back under her desk and sit up straight, a low snicker being heard beside you. you turn your head swiftly, glaring down the girl that had tried to befriend you earlier.

"alright, class begins in," the teacher glances down at her watch before looking up again, "2 minutes, in that time please get out your work that should've been completed last night and have it on your desk ready to be handed in."

"crap," you murmur under your breath, realizing that you had only completed half of the homework last night before you decided to let sleep take over you. gnawing on your bottom lip you turn to your seat mate who was equally as flustered as you, you roll your eyes knowing that she too hadn't finished. useless.

you had only one option, slowly you reached your hand out to tap jays shoulder to ask for his homework. your chair screeching in the process but you paid no mind to that, however, the teacher did.

just as jay turned around to look back at you, he was stopped by the teacher.

"__, what are you doing? now is not the time to socialize, sit back down," she scolds, catching the attention of many other students who were now looking at right at you.

you flushed slightly at the sudden attention, remaining cool and intact on the outside but booking with rage on the inside. you clench your skirt in your fist as you retract your hand and sit back down.

how dare she talk to me like that.

if someone else had talked to you like that you would've put them in their place, but you knew better than to talk back to your teacher.

before you could cuss the teacher out mentally your gaze shifts towards jay who looked at you with pure amusement.

a small smile had crawled onto his face, his dimples making an appearance as he jaw line flexed, he was laughing at you.

you felt your blood boil as you watched him bite at his lip to stop himself from laughing. your eye twitched as you held in the urge to stomp your foot into his back. your pulled out of your thoughts when you see the teacher beginning to make her rounds to collect the homework.

"ah shit, my assignment," you say to yourself as you pull out your half-finished work.

you place the piece of paper onto your desk, glaring holes into the back of jays head as you wait for the teacher to reach you.

just watch what happens to you after class, nerd.

your hands gripped at your worksheet, almost ripping it in the process as you think of all the ways you'd make jay regret laughing at you.

the professor was right in front of you, standing at jays desk, "good job, jay. wouldn't expect any less from my star student," she praises softly before grabbing his work and the sheet from the student who sat next to him.

a disappointed look takes over her face when she walks over to your desk, wiping the previous happy smile off of her wrinkled face.

does she want to fuck him or something?

"incomplete."

"sorry ms-" you started but were soon cut off by the disappointed teacher, "i don't want to hear it __, detention."

you let out a small groan before leaning back in your desk, watching the teacher wear the same expression towards vicky before giving her the same fate as yours.

you continue to watch the teacher walk along the rows, anger bubbling in you.

with a sigh you snap your eyes back to the front, letting out a small gasp when you lock eyes with a pair of deep brown ones.

jay.

he looks at you with an almost smug expression, only fuelling your anger further. first, your little brother ruining your shirt, then jay laughing at you and now he had the the audacity to look smug about it? fuck no.

'your dead,' you mouth at him.

his eyes widen before he's turning around, leaving you fuming in anger as you begin to come up with ways to get back at him.

'oh god, save me,' jay thinks to himself, looking up as if god himself was staring down at him. if god was, he would be giving jay a look of pity.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

class had ended a few minutes ago and you were now making your way to your second class, english.

just as the bell had rung jay had made a run for it, he knew that he was in trouble and he was afraid for what was going to bite him in the ass.

you sat in your next class, plotting of ways you could get back at the boy. you smirk when images of jay looking up at you with apologetic eyes pop up in your head—punishing him will be fun.

if only you knew that you wouldn't be the one who would be doing the punishing.

you knew that jay was in your class and you knew that he was going to come in later than he usually would—even if it effected his perfect attendance record.

he was going to try and avoid you, try to run away from you—but you won't let that happen.

you mentally 'tsk' in your head, 'jay you can't escape me,' you think to yourself as you patiently wait for the boy to walk into class.

meanwhile, jay pants aggressively—trying to calm down his breathing from all the running he did. he had ran down the stairs and taken the long way to his next class, which he shared with you, trying to avoid running into you in the hallways.

he knew that you wouldn't bother him much in class, however, if you caught him the hallways who knew what you'd do to him.

he doesn't know what you're scheming but he wasn't excited. this was the first time that he had ignored you, typically he would just give you the work that you asked for—but this time he had chosen death. not only did jay not give you answers, he laughed at you.

this was the first time that he had gotten you angry, and he knew that you would take your anger solely out on him. he had seen you angry before, but never because of him.

he had seen you take out your anger on the people who caused the negative emotion, and it was brutal. to think that a girl your size was able to shit kick someone was scary and he hoped that he'd never be in the receiving end of that.

making his way into class he wipes the thin layer of sweat that had made its way into his forehead with the back of his hand, trying to slow down his breathing.

setting his backpack down onto the floor, he sits down and begins to unpack.

he could feel you burn holes into the back of his head, shivering slightly at the thought of turning around only to be met with your fist in his face and a black eye.

the teacher soon walks in causing jay to let out a small breath of relief, he knew that you wouldn't hurt him if the teacher was around.

'you're only safe for the next hour and a half, after that you're done for jay,' the poor boy thinks to himself nervously—sweating bullets.

"important announcement before we begin, starting tomorrow a new teacher will be coming in to teach for the next few weeks as you will be beginning your health unit. this unit will be a review about female and male anatomy and so forth, i beg of you all to be mature about this and not give the new teacher a hard time. please be on your best behaviour tomorrow", the teacher says quickly, the students not being able to understand half of what the she had yapped away.

you paid little to no attention to what the teacher was blabbering about, instead you glared down the boy who was sitting on the other side of the class. he held his book up close to his face, as if he was attempting to shield himself away from your scorching eyes.

snickering, you clenches your fists, a small smirk on your face as you lean foreword against the desk.

you can run, but you can't hide.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

"ow! ah! ouch!" the boy groans out, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

luckily, his arms had covered his face enough so he wouldn't break his jaw or mark up his pretty skin.

jay held in the urge to scream out in anger when he feels your foot on his back, pushing him down when he manages to get into a plank position in an attempt to get up.

the heel of your polished black shoes pushes into his crisp white shirt, leaving a smudge of dirt against the material.

you look down at the boy, feeling a sense of dominance seeing him at his lowest while you had all the control—just how you liked it.

were you a sadist? maybe.

"oh no! jay! i didn't see where i was going. silly me!" you coo innocently, a sly and evil tone present in your tone.

"didn't know i was so clumsy," you add on with a small snicker, your shoes still planted on his back.

jay grits his teeth, he knew that this was coming, but he didn't know that the humiliation would sting this bad.

he bit at his lip when he felt your whole foot slam him down onto the ground, as if he was a mere bug that you were trying to squash and kill.

"__, let me move," he grits out, harshly swallowing his embarrassment when he sees a few students walk by him.

the passers gave jay looks of sympathy, they all knew what it was like to get bullied by you, but they couldn't do much to help out—they didn't want to face your wrath any further.

if they intervened to help him out, they would become the next targets for your punching bags.

"hmm..how about, no," you snap back, there was no way you were going to let jay go after he had disrespected you. you didn't know where his sudden bravery had come from, but you were determined to shove it back where it had risen out from.

it was petty of you to do really, the poor boy hadn't even done anything besides laugh at you. however, you didn't take things like this lightly—and jay knew that.

he remembers how in junior year a girl had flaunted her grades in front of you when you told her what you had gotten on your science exam. the next day, her locker was stuffed with the frogs they had dissected in the class previously. to this day you passed her dirty looks in the hallway.

to simply put it, you held grudges—like really held grudges.

jay knew that if he didn't do something now, you would keep your foot pressed against his back the entire day while he laid on the dirty hallway floors for everyone to watch. he had to gather his courage before his thoughts would become reality.

pulling himself up he gets into a semi plank position, using all his strength to push up and off of the ground making you gasp in surprise.

standing tall his large figure intimidates your smaller one, the height difference making jay seem like the bully and you, the poor innocent victim.

stepping back slightly, you clenches your fists by your side, watching jay dust off his clothes.

"y-you-" you shrieked, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy. "argh," you stomp down with frustration before scowling.

jay takes a moment unintentionally to look over your smaller frame, your dark messy hair to your neat and polished shoes that were on his back a few moments ago.

he would've thought you were cute if it wasn't for your nasty attitude. who was he kidding, you were pretty, but your actions made him forget from time to time.

balling up your small fists you do something that he would have least expected at that moment.

jay lets out a grunt when he feels your fist jam into the side of his face, falling right back where he had gotten up from originally.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

the day was filled with torture. jay, to say the least, looked rough.

he was tripped, punched, shoved, and then he was smacked—but that was only the tip of the iceberg.

jay looked as if he was run over by a bus, his hair was messy and his usually crisp and neat attire and look was gone. the side of his face was bruised slightly, yellow and red marks splotched by his temple where you had landed your blow.

he was pretty sure that his glasses were broken, to afraid that if he took them off to inspect that they'd actually fall apart.

you had done it, you had made him miserable.

he ran out of class right when he was dismissed, not being able to take another beating—he just wanted to go home.

the bell rang and jay made a run for it, grabbing his books and heading out of the school doors and onto his bike—immediately cycling away.

he knew that this wasn't over just yet, he knew that there was much more in store for him—you weren't going to stop that easily.

if you had managed to make him so miserable in a span of a few hour, he only dreaded what you could do in an entire day.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

"hey! jongie! where you running off to? thought you were a good kid? we can't have you missing class, now can we?" you chirped with a plastic grin on your face, voice high pitched and squeaky.

jay had walked into school with his head held high up, he had science first block and he dreaded going in. he knew that you would make the 80 minute block last an eternity.

instead of walking in 10 minutes early like he usually would, he decides that he was going to walk in right when the bell rings. if you happened to be in class before the teacher arrived, a lot could happen in the short span of 10 minutes.

he didn't want to run into you in the hallways either, he knew you could have his way with him in the less crowded areas that lack teacher supervision. jay looked down at his watch, biting at his lip anxiously when he realizes that he still had a few minutes before class started.

he begins to walk to the boys washroom, thinking that he could hide out in the stalls to pass the time. unfortunately, he wasn't luck enough to make it there without being spotted.

you had found him, he gulped, mentally preparing himself for what was to come.

" jongie," you start with a coo, your voice sickly sweet, "are you avoiding me?" you finish off with a fake pout.

you stood in front of him, not much distance between the two of you and he could smell your lavender and honey-scented perfume.

he lets out a shaky breath when you take another step forward, your chests brushing against one another's.

you reach your hand out to grab at jays black school tie, fiddling with it between your fingers, slowly looking up to see that the boy was already looking down at you.

your eyes widened for a second when you realized how handsome he was, his features sharp and clean which were ruined slightly due to the bruise by his temple.

the one you caused.

you could feel your face flush before your forcing thoughts about finding jay attractive out of your mind.

jay held in his breath when you took another step closer, your chests now touching. he was sure that you could feel his heart beat wildly against his chest.

you internally smirk, biting your bottom lip as you give him a cheeky grin, "jongie, it's not nice to ignore people you know," you drawl out, your eyelashes fluttering as you draw small patterns on his chest with your perfectly manicured fingernails.

jay knew exactly what you was doing, you were seducing him. he wasn't sure what your game plan was, but he was starting to feel hot.

the boy stutters out your name, his eyes widening when he feels you drag your fingers down his chest, nearing dangerously towards his crotch when you make it past his black belt.

"w-what are you d-," he tries again but his words didn't seem to leave his mouth. your fingertips lightly traced his bulge, he could feel himself getting aroused—his breathing getting heavier and quicker.

he wasn't going to let you play around with him so easily, jay knew that you were only doing this to get back at him.

swallowing harshly he reached down to clasp his hand firmly around your wrist, yanking your hand away from him roughly.

he pushes you away, hearing you gasp in shock, "__, stop," he states firmly, his eyes shut as he mentally prepares himself for another blow to the face.

you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment, no man had ever turned you down—the guys at school falling at her feet left and right.

clenching your teeth you pushed at his chest, forcing a smirk onto your pink stained lips—faking confidence as you tried to push past the rejection.

"you didn't actually think that I would be interested in you, did you jongie?" you fibbed, hoping and praying that jay hadn't picked up on the waver in your voice.

"i would never be interested in someone like you," you spit before turning around to walk away, having the last word.

you walk away with your head held up high, confidently strutting down the hallway before you disappear from jays vision.

you feel your cheeks heat up from rejection, feeling strangely hurt deep down that jay had stopped her advances. you mentally scolded yourself for letting something like this effect you so deeply, it's just jay.

with a scowl etched on your face you flip your hair over your shoulder, fists clenched as you make your way to the next class.

jay stood in the hallway, his mind still processing what had just happened. he didn't know if you were coming on to him or if you were messing with him, regardless, his pants felt tighter.

shaking his head he let out a deep sigh, "it's just a way to get back at you jay, don't fall for it," he says to himself.

he looks down to see an indent in his pants, mentally scolding himself for popping one for a girl who makes his school life hell.

"just get to class," he murmurs out loud, slowly making his way to science—the same class he shared with you.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

science class was an absolute disaster, the substitute was on the verge of crying. jay gave the woman a look of pity, watching her struggle to quiet down the classroom.

paper planes filled the classroom sky, students throwing scrunched up worksheets at one another, big groups of people talking loudly amongst one another.

a mess, to say the least.

a few minutes later the class settles down, the threat of giving everyone a zero caught the classes attention.

the substitute sat at her chair, a look of bewilderment on her face as she smoothens out her clothing and hair.

"good morning class, you may refer to me as mrs.jung and i will be your health teacher. i will be in the classroom for the next few weeks so, please, treat me well," she almost begs at the end, planting a small smile on her face.

she looked to be in her late 30s or early 40s, her black hair up in a sleek bun while she wore a blue denim dress that reached just below her knees.

"today we are going to be learning about the female reproductive system."

the class goes by like a blur, half of the students not paying attention to the substitute as she taught.

jay takes down basic notes, his thick black locks running into his eyes making him run his hands through his hair to slick his hair back.

suddenly, he feels something hit the back of his head. he looks down to see a pink eraser on the floor, already knowing the culprit without having to turn around to look.

picking up the object with a sigh, he places it on his desk—shaking his head in disbelief before he resumes his note taking.

it was quiet for a moment before your voice pulls him out of his trance, his ears turning a bright shade of red at your words.

"jays probably never made a girl cum before, never been able to find the clit," you snicker to your seat mate who looks around hesitantly when she realizes how loud you were.

you on the other hand gave no fucks about the volume of your voice, your laughter getting louder and louder every second.

you were so fucked.

the boy swallowed harshly, his hands gripping his pencil tightly—afraid that it would snap if he didn't ease his grip.

students near by heard the exchange, silent laughter being heard from around the room as they stared at jay. jay could feel his body flush, his cheeks hot as he purses his lips—staring down at his notes. he refused to look up, feeling embarrassed.

you watched jay closely, you could tell that he was uncomfortable but you felt no remorse for the boy—so you continued.

"he'd probably finish in seconds," you taunted, this time catching the teacher's attention.

"__, would you like to repeat that?"

you immediately sit up in your chair, clearing your throat before planting a small fake smile on your face, "no miss."

ms.jung gave her a knowing look, "thought so, now, please keep your comments to yourself."

you flush with embarrassment but the feeling soon fades, biting at your lip to hold in your laughter when you hear other students poke fun at jay.

you could hear whispers about the boy, some making fun of him while others expressed their sympathy for him.

you couldn't help but feel slightly guilty, you peek over to look at jay. you could see his fists clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white while his veins in his hands and forearms popped out. his thick muscles peeking from under his shirt as he flexed his arms tensely—your mouth watered at the sight.

jay then suddenly turns his head around, his dark hooded eyes looking into your. feeling flustered you try to avoid eye contact but were unable to, a small gasp emitting from your throat when jay gives you a bone-rattling glare.

you fist your skirt, heart beating quick when jay mouths, 'stay after class,' his lips curling into a smirk before he's turning away—tuning out everyone who was looking at him.

you look at him in shock, his sudden shift in attitude catching you off guard.

what the fuck just happened?

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

the bell rang and students trickled their way out of the classroom, leaving you, jay, and mrs.jung behind.

"jay, dear. are you planning on staying after class?" mrs. jung asks as she shuffles around the classroom, noticing that neither jay or you had packed your things.

jay forces a sweet smile, trying not to explode as he nods briskly, "ah yes, i have a few things to take care of."

she nods in response, "alright then, i trust that you'll be responsible. i'll give you the keys so when you're done, just lock the door," she says with a smile, before making her way out of the door—handing jay the keys.

she stops midway when she spots you still sitting at one of the desks, "and you, __? are you planning on staying as well?"

before you could open your mouth to answer, jay cuts you off, "yes, mrs.jung. __ here, needed help with some work so i decided to go aheadand tutor her. is that okay? it won't take us to long," he persuades, his grin cheeky as he tries to downplay his real motives.

mrs.jung felt as if she could trust the boy, so she nods.

"alright, just take care, okay? oh also once you've finished, close the blinds," she instructs, and with that, she waves goodbye to the both of you— walking out and shutting the door behind her.

you hold your breath, the sound of your shallow breathing sounding far to loud in the quiet classroom.

you and jay were sitting only a few feet apart, yet he made no attempt to move. the silence was beginning to get to you, rolling your eyes before you decide to break it.

"so nerd, why'd you ask me to stay?" you sneer out, placing your feet up on the table before faux inspecting your nails, you tried not to show it— but your 'tough' persona was crumbling by the second.

jays eye twitched at the name, "i'm sure you know exactly why, __," he seethes back, his head still looking at the front. the way he said your name made you shiver in delight, the hairs on the back of your neck standing as you felt yourself flush.

jay smirks when he notices you shiver from the corner of his eye, he knew that he had some sort of effect on you.

the way your name came out of his mouth sounded smooth and silky, the feeling making you jittery and restless.

you decide to act clueless, "no, actually. I don't."

jay could laugh, huffing before his chair is being pulled out and he's slowly making his way towards you—like a snake slithering to strangle its prey.

when he reaches you, you remove your feet from the desk, looking up at him curiously.

jays gaze made you feel small, looking away from him when you couldn't handle the intensity of his stare.

"it's not nice to comment on other people's sex lives,__. but I'm sure your bratty virgin self doesn't know better," he taunts, his thick arms coming to rest on either side of your chair so you were trapped in between them.

you gape at the name, "bratty?" you spit out, offended. "i'm not bratty, and i'm sure as hell not a virgin."

you swallow harshly when you turn your head to the side, your eyes almost bulging out of their sockets when you see his arms flex to show off his taunt muscles.

"oh really?" he fakes a gasp, lifting one of his eyebrows mockingly before grinning, "prove it."

your eyebrows shoot up in shock, uncomfortable with the switch in dynamics. not used to the confident and bold jay that was in front of her.

"w-what? how," you ask stupidly, unaware of what dirty thoughts had began to cloud jays mind.

he'd show you, he'll prove you wrong.

"get on your knees."

you stare up at him dumbly, failing to process his words. jay begins to lose his patience, threading his fingers into your hair before yanking your head back.

a small moan breaks out of your mouth, face flushing when you realize what you had just done. jays expression turning grim, "i'm not repeating myself brat. either you do it, or i make you do it."

your eyes widen at his words, a strange feeling of fear and excitements rush through you making you clench your thighs in anticipation.

slowly dropping down from your chair, sinking to your knees in front of the boy.

jay smirks, he had you right where he wanted you.

"what are you waiting for? unbuckle my pants and take my cock out, slut," he seethes, his eyes hooded as he stares down at you with pure lust.

you shiver at the degrading name, rubbing your thighs together as you shuffle closer so you could reach out to start taking off his pants.

your hands clumsily unbuckle his belt, letting the leather material hit the floor with a clack—flinching at the sound. you focus on the buttons of his slacks, hands shaking as you struggle to pop them open.

jay 'tsks' as he looks down at you with a faux frown, "useless brat, can't even unbutton my pants properly." with that he's popping open his own buttons and letting his pants fall.

his dark grey boxers came into view quickly before they disappear just as quick. jays hand yanks at your hair, pushing your head so your face was smushed against his hard cock. you gape at him, feeling his thick length grind against your cheek before you begin to struggle in his hold.

you try to show your protest but your words come out muffled, attempting to push yourself away with your thighs on his thighs—but your attempts went futile.

"what are you doing?" you try to squeak out only for it to come out as incoherent, making jay laugh mockingly.

"fuck are you waiting for whore?" he sneers his mood shifting instantly, his grip in your locks tightening making you hiss out— complying with his orders regardless.

he allows you to move your head back, your fingertips slipping past the band of his boxers—pulling them down all the way.

a small gasp left your mouth when his cock hit your cheek, his precum smearing against your skin.

he chuckled, watching you closely as you brings your shaky hand to grip at his girth—making him hiss.

your mouth salivates as you takes a few seconds to admire him. his tip dusted with a dusky rose colour and veins surrounding his thick and long length like a rose vine.

"go on then, take me into your mouth. prove me wrong brat."

that's all you needed before you engulfed his tip into your mouth before jay slams it in fully. you choke on it causing him to let out a deep and guttural groan.

the sound had you trembling, pulling him out of your mouth before slowly taking him in again inch by inch—trying hard not to gag.

he looked down, watching you bob your head back and forth, tilting his head back to let out small moans when he feels you swallow around him.

his grip on your hair tightened, thrusting his hips forward causing his tip to hit the back of your throat repeatedly—using you as a cock sleeve.

as embarrassing as it was, you were enjoying it far more than jay was. your thighs clenched together tightly as you attempt to relieve the pressure between your legs by pushing your gushing cunt against the floor.

"fuck, __! didn't take you for such a cockslut. thought you were more a receiver with your bratty attitude," he remarks, a choked groan echoing through the classroom when he feels you swallow around his cock again.

you look up at the boy, peering through your thick lashes as you hollow out your cheeks, your tongue running up his length.

your hand comes to wrap around the part that you weren't able to fit in your mouth, feeling his cock inch down your throat.

he felt your warm mouth surround him, the feeling smooth and velvety as he pushed his hips towards you causing you to gag.

you reminded yourself to breathe through your nose, your tongue lapping around his length as you pumps the remaining bit with your hand.

"oh-shit, keep going. just like that," he groans, bucking his hips as he desperately chases his high.

your eyes narrow, one thing was certain—jay wasn't going to cum. suddenly, you withdraw your effort and slow down your speed just when he was reaching his high.

jay stares down at you, frustration present on his face.

"did i tell you that you could slow down whore?" he sneered, his chest heaving and his face glistening with a sheen of sweat.

innocently, you peer up at him before going back to the pace you were at before, his eyes rolling back in pleasure instantly as he relished in the feeling of your warm mouth.

he was close, and you could tell.

your hand reaches up to cup his balls in your hand, slowly massaging as you try to get him closer and closer to his climax.

you held in your breath when his tip hits the back of your throat with each thrust, letting him use you like a rag doll.

the sound of jays moans and the wet sounds of his cock fucking your mouth echoed through the empty classroom—bouncing off of the walls.

"m'gonna cum," he grunts, a thin bead of sweat running down his face and then his neck, soon disappearing under his school shirt.

not on my watch.

you smirk to yourself , right when jay was about to bust you pull your mouth away completely—leaving him hanging and desperate for a release.

jays eyes snap open, "what the fuck!" he exclaims, his fists clenching and his face red in anger.

"you didn't actually think that i'd let you cum after the way you talked to me, did you jongie?" you tease, biting at your bottom lip to hold in your laughter as you start to get up from the floor—using the back of your hand to wipe away the spit and cum on your lips.

jay feels himself slowly lose his cool, he was being gentle with you even if you didn't deserve it.

"that's fucking it, __," he starts, his tone shocking you, never hearing him sound so angry. the once calm and collected boy was gone, his patience running thin.

"you've pushed me past my limits now."

he takes a second to look down you, you were now standing up with your face only a few inches away from his own.

"you're going to bend over the desk-" he grabs a hold of you, grabbing a fistful of your hair before pushing your body onto a desk so you laid on your stomach with your lower body handing uber the edge—your feet barely touching the ground.

a shriek leaves your mouth at the sudden change in position, trying to get your feet to touch the floor but fails when jay comes to stand to the side of you, "-and fucking count."

he flips your short school skirt up, which jay thought was pointless for you to wear. you hiked up the material to your upper thigh, leaving little to the imagination to whoever was behind you.

jay was guilty, he had peered up your skirt several times—his hands itching to grab at your soft flesh.

your behind was now exposed to him with your thin lace black thong being the only thing that covered you. it didn't cover much, actually, it didn't cover anything. he could see your cunt poke through the thin fabric, his mouth salivating as he watches you squirm in his hold.

"what the-" you start but are cut off by jay toying with your underwear, pulling it upward before letting it go so it would slap your skin.

you hiss at the feeling, trying to reach your arms behind you to push him away, only for him to grab ahold of both your arms and pin them firmly to your back.

"you've done this to yourself, __. if only you had behaved," he sneers, softly patting your underwear-clad core making you jolt up in surprise.

jay chuckles at the reaction, "sensitive, are we?"

"oh shut up you ne-"

smack!

you gasp, turning your head around to glare at him accusingly, "d-did you ju-" you get cut off again by another sting to your behind, your back arches as you unconsciously jut your behind out more.

jay smirks, watching your body squirm on the desk, his hand coming to softly massage your behind before he lands another smack down.

"i did, and you better get counting brat. you're far from getting out of this position."

"like hell i wi-" you try to protest only for him to lay another smack down, your body lurching forward with each hit. you suppress a moan when you feel jays hand roughly massage the cheek that he had hit, the feeling soothing but made your core ache.

"you want to try again? the more you act out the more hits i'll add on," he threatens lowly, his middle finger tracing down your covered slit.

you whine, feeling absolutely humiliated.

smack!

"i recommend that you start counting, brat," jay seethes lowly before he's landing another smack down.

"o-one."

smack!

"two," you mewl, eyes watering as you feel another smack lay down on you.

smack!

"three."

smack!

"four!" you shriek, that particular smack landing harder than the rest.

jay was taking out all of his frustration on you, his hand stinging at the intensity of the smack he laid down. it was as if he was getting his revenge for the torture he endured from her. he watched your ass bounce, landing smack after smack not letting you catch your breath in the slightest.

"ah, jay! s-stop," you cry out, your hands gripping the table tightly—knuckles turning white.

his hand grabs ahold of the back of your neck, pulling you up slightly as he bends down to catch your gaze. "do you really want me to stop, __?" he asks knowingly, a look of faux sympathy in his face.

"because-" he begins, his other hand snaking itself to your covered cunt—pressing against you. you were drenched, the fabric sticking to your folds as if they were a second skin. "-this tells me otherwise."

you hold in a whine, to ashamed to deny. jay had gotten his answer, letting go of his hold on your neck before he's going back to his original spot.

you look back at him, your eyes red and teary as you muffled a cry. jay holds in a groan when he sees your teary face, feeling his cock get harder—if that was possible.

"jay i-" you start but cut yourself off with a grunt when he lands his hand down on your behind once more.

"beg bitch," he sneers. this was the moment that all shame and self respect was let go.

"please jongie. i beg you," you cry out, jolting up when you feel his fingers circle your clothed entrance.

jay smirks, he had you wrapped around his fingers in minutes—literally.

"what are you begging for, hm?"

when he receives no answer he lands another smack down on to your behind making you whimper.

jay almost lets out a moan when he sees how red and bruised your behind was, splotches off blue and yellow complimenting your skin colour.

you look back at him, your face red and teary as you silently beg him to do something.

jay shakes his head at you, "you aren't getting anything from me till you ask me, nicely."

you whine, "jay, please."

"please jay what?" he mocks, his hand grabbing at your behind roughly—squeezing it making you let out breathless moans.

"please, fuck me," you wince, your bottom lip trembling as you look at him with big eyes.

jay feels his breath hitch at the look on your face, the faux expression of innocence you held making his actions stutter.

you were so full of shit and jay knew that.

he chuckles, "fuck you? so quickly? i don't think so slut," he says before he's flipping you over on the desk so your back was against the wood.

you gasp at the sudden switch of positions, holding yourself up by your elbows. you see jay in between your legs as you look up at him, his figure towering over yours.

you let out a pained whimper when your butt touches the desk, your behind stinging and sore after the amount of hefty smacks that he laid down on you.

"so wet.." he murmurs, running his pointer finger down your clothed folds, a shiver racking down your spine at the sensation.

he lets out a soft hiss when he notices how sensitive you were, "jay, please."

"i've been through this before darling, please what? what do you want me to do, be verbal," he commands, rubbing small circles against your clit.

"fingers, in me please," you stammered, clawing at the desk as you spread your legs wider—no shame.

"good girl," he praises lightly before he's pushing your underwear to the side to expose your sopping wet cunt. the sudden exposure of the cool air making you shudder, shutting your legs on instinct. jay scowls, slapping at your thigh before forcing your legs wide open.

you let out a small moan at the feeling of his fingers touching around you, his hands sliding to the apex of your inner thighs.

he takes his time, making sure to have you crying by the end of it.

"jay, please don't tease," you whine, trying to buck your hips against his hand to try and get him to touch you where you needed him the most.

he hums in response, his thumb coming to touch your bare clit softly, slowly rubbing against it making you arch your back against the desk at the sensation.

jays smirk stays intact on his face, making eye contact with you all while rubbing you slowly—teasing her.

you shy away from his eyes, looking anywhere but at him causing jay to stop his actions. his free hand comes up to your face, squeezing your cheeks so your lips jut out in a pucker.

"keep your eyes on me, brat. as soon as you look away, i stop. got it?" he threatens lowly. you nod in response, locking eyes with his deep browns ones.

he slowly pushes a finger into your aching core, feeling you clench around his digit as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of you. he feels your walls tighten around him, "so fucking needy," he spits out.

you bite at your lip to hold back any moans that threatened to escape you, your hips bucking as he fastens his pace.

"don't hold in your moans, let them out," he demands, curling his finger in you before a second finger is poking at your entrance—threatening to be pushed in.

"ah-shit," you groan out when he inserts the second finger in, the thickness of his digit stretching you out. your eyes water at the pleasure, your eyes threatening to close to relish in the feeling—but you don't dare.

he holds your panties to the side so he could see his fingers pushing in and out of you, your hips bucking as you try to get him to sink his fingers deeper into your cunt.

"so wet and needy," he croaks, his thumb adding into the mix as he continues his pace—his thumb rubbing small yet firm circles on your clit.

you shut your eyes for a moment only for them to snap right open when you feel jay land a slap on your throbbing pussy. you squeal at the pain, trying to move away from his grip, his hand coming down to slap at your clit again. "behave," he warns before he's resuming his previous position with two of his thick digits buried inside you.

you couldn't believe the position you were in. sprawled up on a desk with your hair dishevelled, your shirt wrinkled and your school skirt hiked up to your hips while the boy you use as a punching bag has his fingers buried into your aching cunt.

if someone had told you that this would be the position you'd end up in by the end of the day, you would've had them on the floor.

you could feel every stroke of his fingers inside you clearly, desperately chasing your high as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten deliciously.

jay curls his fingers in you in a 'come here' motion, feeling you clench around his digits as he fastens his pace—he knew you were close.

his thumb starts to rub faster circles on your throbbing and aching clit, not giving you a chance to breathe as he feels your body twitch at the close release.

"ah, shit! j-jay m'close," you mewl, your eyes rolling to the back of your head—eyes white. you feel him stroke past a certain bundle of nerves, your head tilting back in pleasure as he continue to stretch out your gummy walls.

just as you felt your high approach jays pulling his fingers out of you , leaving you feeling empty and unsatisfied. you cry out in frustration, attempting to kick your legs at jay only for him to catch and stop them with ease—tossing you a stern look.

you watch him pop his fingers into his mouth, his tongue coming out to circle his digits all while maintaining eye contact with you.

"for a dirty bitch, you sure do taste good," he praises, a sly grin in his face as he digs his fingers into the plush of you thighs—making you wince.

when he gets no response he chuckles, "what? didn't think that i'd let you cum so quickly, did you?" he asks, using the same phrasing as you earlier.

you whine, "please." your legs shook with impatience.

"i'm taking my time with you, __. i've been waiting to get my hands on you. do you know what i go through whenever you open your goddamn trap and spit out insults at me, hm? it takes everything in me to not bend you over the nearest desk and fuck the attitude out of you, but not anymore. i'm having you whatever way i want, and you'll let me, isn't that right?" he hisses into your ear, the feeling of his cool breath making you shiver.

you look at him with red cheeks, your mind whirling with ideas of him taking you on the desk, against the wall, in the school closets, in the staff room.

jay grins, "you'd like me fucking your pretty little cunt, hm? wanna feel my fat cock stretching your bratty pussy out, yes?" he purrs as he gets up from his position in between your legs, looming over your smaller body.

"mmm, y-yes," you reply, still dazed from your denied release as you stare up at him with big eyes.

jay lets out a small groan before he's wrapping his hand around your throat, pulling you up so you're off the desk and standing in front of him.

you grab onto his shirt, not trusting yourself to stand properly as your legs trembled.

you let out a small moan when the grip around your throat tightens. "what a desperate little whore you are, __. who would've thought that the school's bully begs for cock, begs for my cock," he jeers as he weaves his other hand into your hair—yanking on it.

you mewl at the sensation, letting him use you as he wished—complying with all his actions.

"are you going to behave for me, hm,__?" he coaxes before he presses a quick peck to your lips, trailing small kisses starting from your tear stained cheeks, to your jaw and soon down your neck.

"yes," you respond, your voice coming out breathy and your vision hazy—the sensation of his lips on your neck leaving you trembling with need.

jay nips at the sensitive skin on your neck, a moan slipping out of your mouth as he continues to bruise up your skin.

"yes, what?"

"yes, sir."

jay immediately pulls away from you, his eyes widening in shock as he stares at you in disbelief. you on the other hand hadn't even realized what name you addressed him by, the thought of his cock plaguing your mind.

he soon came to the conclusion that he didn't mind the name, his mouth pulling into a sneer as he fists your hair harshly before yanking it back—your head tilted so your marked up neck was on full display for his hungry eyes.

"good, now—strip."

you immediately comply with his order, your hands fumbling with the buttons of your shirt, struggling slightly as you lean against him for support.

jay watches you struggle, his eyes narrowing impatiently before he's taking matters into his own hands.

"such a helpless little slut, can't even unbutton her shirt without my help," he murmurs angrily before he's helping you unbutton your school shirt.

his fingers graze your supple skin as he makes his way down your shirt, helping you take the white material off.

once he gets to the last button he yanks the shirt off completely, throwing it onto the floor making you gasp.

without a second to waste, he reaches behind you to unclasp your pink bra, the lanky article of clothing falling off of you.

jay sucks in a breath when your pert nipples come into his view, his hands reaching out to mound against your chest.

"so pretty," he praises softly before he's kneading your breasts with both of his hands. your grip on his shirt tightening as he continues his assault before he's leaning down and taking one of your buds into his mouth.

the feeling of his mouth touching your skin made you moan out, jutting your chest out to savour more of the feeling.

"needy little thing aren't you, hm? tell me, __, do you want my mouth on you? want me to make you cum on my tongue? " he drawls as he twists your nipple with his finger making you whimper.

you nod enthusiastically, "yes, please sir," you beg, your hands coming up to wrap around his shoulder as if you were hugging him.

"begging so nicely for me," he praises before he's slowly sinking to his knees, his head coming to be level right with your covered cunt.

you trembled, jays hands on your waist before they drag up and down your thighs. he's reaching behind you to drag your skirt down so it pooled at your feet.

your thin underwear was soaked from your previously denied orgasm, his fingers coming to grab at the band of your panties to push them down so you were completely bare to his eyes.

jay sucked in a breath, his eyes glazing over you before he uses his thumbs to spread apart your lips.

your hands reach behind you to grab at the wooden desk to keep yourself from falling—spreading your legs slightly so jay could fit better in between them.

the boy smirked at your actions, moving closer so his breath fanned against your most intimate bits—making you shiver.

"why so tense,__?" he teases before his tongue flattens against the apex of her thigh making you squirm.

"j-jay, don't tease—please," you begged softly as you jut your hips so your cunt was closer to his face—desperate to get him to touch you where you desired the most.

jay smiles against her skin, "do you deserve my tongue, huh?" he blows softly on your clit making you whimper.

did you deserve it? no.

were you still going to say yes? yeah.

"yes, sir—please." you pant, your left hand leaving the desk as you could run your hand through his dark locks.

the boy lets out a small laugh, "you and i both know you don't deserve this, yet here we are," he says lowly, his eyes zeroing in on your cunt.

you scrunched your eyebrows, "wha—oh!" you shrieked. his tongue flattened on your most sensitive area, your head tilting back as your grip in his hair tightens.

jay holds in a moan, his tongue gliding through your soaked folds as he holds your thighs open to make sure you don't try to close them.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as you pant the boy's name, your body twitching with each touch as you force yourself to keep as quiet as possible.

his tongue did figure '8's on your clit, your arousal soaking his nose and chin. jay peers up from in between your legs, watching your face contort into one of pure bliss as you start to roll your hips against his tongue.

he tongue drops to your clenching hole, teasing the entrance while his nose nudges your clit repeatedly.

he had imagined this exact moment, as creepy as it sounded—he had fantasied about this moment.

have you choke on his girth as he fucked your bratty mouth as he pleased—using you like a doll before throwing you away. bending you over his knee, letting his palms smack against your round and soft bottom as you cried out for him—begging him to stop. letting his hands roam down your body as he marked you with small purple bites, letting everyone know that the school's tormentor had been fucked into her place.

he was ecstatic when you had stayed behind, following his order.

he knew he had you in his clutches the moment you were on your knees, knowing he had full control over your frail body—he was going to take full advantage of it.

years of torment had led them here, his tongue deep in you as you wailed out in pleasure—clutching on to whatever you could grab onto.

he inhaled deeply when your thighs started to close in on his face, his hands not being able to hold them open anymore as his tongue ran over your clit repeatedly.

you were trembling, your legs shaking violently as you screeched when his tongue brushes over a certain bundle of nerves.

"shit! jongie," you gape, your mouth in an 'o' shape as your eyes shut painfully tight.

"m'gonna cum," you wail out as you grasp at his hair tighter, his tongue working fast and firm circles around your clit—getting you closer and closer to your release.

after the way you treated him, you surely didn't deserve to cum. yet, here jay was—his tongue delving in and out of you as you beg to cum for him.

your stomach tightened almost painfully as you reached your climax, your body trembling as you cum with a loud moan—not being able to hold back your sounds anymore.

even after your high had passed, jay hadn't stopped. his tongue still rolling around your clit as he helps you ride out your high before finally pulling away making you let out a sigh of relief.

jay watches your red face, "filthy little girl, absolutely filthy," he tuts, his tongue swiping his lips to savour any remnants of you before he's standing tall—his hand reaching out to wrap around your throat once again.

you choke a whimper, your hands coming up to grab at his wrist when his grip tightens around your throat almost painfully. you struggle to breathe and although this should scare you, you felt yourself hush with excitement.

you twitch, "s-sir, in me. please," you whine out, begging to be filled to the brim with thick cock inside of you.

"you're still not satisfied?" he teases as he slowly strips himself of his briefs—letting them fall to the floor.

you shook your head, clenching around nothing as you watch the boy carefully.

"bend over then, let's see how good you take my cock."

and that's how you ended up pushed against the desk with your stomach pressed against the wooden surface and your hands pinned behind your back.

you could feel jays cool breath fan against your ear as his chest planted firmly against your back—disabling any movement from your behalf.

you could feel his length against you, his tip poking at your entrance as you whine in desperation.

"sir," you mewl softly, your head twisting slightly as you begin to wriggle in his grip.

jay chuckles lowly, his hand reaching out to firmly wrap itself around your throat to keep you from moving your head as well as serve as warning to stay still.

"so desperate for my cock," he keens, planting soft kisses on you exposed shoulder making you shiver.

"imagine what your little friends would think of if they were to find out that you were being fucked by me. fucked by the school's 'nerd.' what would they say, huh? their little friends getting put into her place by the boy she torments," he sneers as his grip on your neck tightens for a fraction making you gasp.

"you'd like that though, wouldn't you? being fucked into submission by me, letting your little friends watch?" he continues, his tone getting lower and lower.

"jay," you moan, he suddenly starts to push his tip into your entrance—your tight walls immediately fluttering around him.

jay shudders, your velvety walls comforting him as he slowly pushes in—inch by inch. he tried to move slowly so you wouldn't feel any pain or discomfort, but soon that idea was disposed of.

you didn't deserve to be treated with such care.

he slammed himself in without slowly coaxing you like he had originally planned, the sudden movement causing a scream to erupt from the back of your throat.

the stretch was painful yet so good. your walls fluttered ground him as he fucks into you, his balls slapping against your ass as the desk shook with each rough thrust.

jay groaned, your walls hugging him as he quickly uses his hand to cover your mouth— you were a moaning mess as he roughly thrusts into you.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you held onto the desk for support, mewls leaving your mouth every time he moved.

the stretch of his girth was painful yet pleasurable, the burning sensation only adding to the enjoyment.

"f-fuck, sir," you mewled, your voice coming out muffled due to jays hand covering your mouth.

he could feel beads of sweat roll down his chest and back as he picked up his pace, small groans occasionally leaving his mouth every time he felt your gummy walls clench around him.

you had your eyes shut as you took each thrust, your stomach coiling wildly as you clenched around his thick girth like a vice.

you could feel your stomach bulge with each movement, a high-pitched squeal leaving your mouth when jays hand comes down to land a sharp smack on your behind.

abandoning your mouth, his hands gripped your hips in a tight hold, holding them hard enough to leave bruises and marks.

"feel so good, __," he murmurs, his pace swiftly quickening as he watches your ass bounce against him with each stroke.

you trembled, your mind hazy as you searched through your brain to try and put some words together to respond—but nothing coming to mind.

"m'close," you finally says, your previous orgasm only adding to this one as you try to buck against him.

just as your lower stomach starts to tighten, a signal of her now close high—jay pulls out.

you gasp, your high dying down quickly as you turn your head around to look at the boy.

instead of explaining why he had pulled out so suddenly, he grabs your forearms. pulling you up so you were now standing—your legs shaking violently as you try to hold onto him for support.

he makes you face him, chests touching, before hooking his arms underneath your knees so you were no longer touching the ground—hiking you up onto the desk so he could stand in between your legs.

"it's sad how such a pretty thing has such a rotten inside," he uttered lowly, letting you wrap your legs around his waist.

in the moment you decided to not respond to him, letting his degrading words fly past as you whined—needy and desperate for a release.

his hand comes up to wrap squeeze in your cheeks, yanking your head close so your noses brushed against one another's.

he smirked when he felt you twitch in his grip, moving his face away slightly so he could sink two fingers into your mouth.

"suck," he demands, feeling your warm mouth engulf his digits—your tongue soft against his rough fingers.

he watches you carefully, his grip on her cheeks tightening ever so slightly making you whine as you struggle to take his digits in.

removing his grip from your face, he takes out his fingers before using that exact hand to land a semi-hard smack onto your cheek—your head flying to the side as you let out a cry of surprise and pain.

"a-ah," you cried, your teary eyes catching his own.

"pathetic," he stated, reclaiming his grip on your face to fish you in so his breath fanned against your face.

he could see it on your face, you enjoyed it.

jay laughs in disbelief, "fucking filthy bitch."

"is that why you hit others? you want to be treated the same way, hm?"

you moan at his words, clenching your thighs together before they're roughly spread wide again by jay—positioning himself at your entrance, slowly teasing you.

jay raises his eyebrows mockingly before pushing in, filling you to the brim once again as you struggles to take him fully.

"f-fuck..how are you still so tight," jay swears, shocked at why he struggled to push into your walls when he was fucking into you just a few minutes ago.

you hold yourself up by your elbows, letting him use you as he pleased—as long as you got off.

"you're fucking desperate, huh? needy bitch," he snaps with his top lip turned in a sneer.

you mewl when he snaps his hips a little too hard at one point, his grip on your hips bruising.

you tightened around him, clenching each time he moved making him hiss.

"stop clenching so hard slut," he hissed maliciously before reaching one hand over to tangle itself into your hair—yanking your head up so jay could press his lips against your own.

"t-to fast," you whimper in-between the kiss when the speed of his thrusts fasten, your body trembling and shaking as you hold onto his shoulders to keep yourself from collapsing.

"shut up, brat. you're going to take what i give you," his pace getting faster and his cock plunging even deeper.

he could tell you were close, the way your eyes shut and how your bottom lip wobbled—he knew.

he continued to bottom out, his high nearing as he lets out inaudible grunts. his stomach tightens with each thrust, the feeling of your tight velvety walls tightening around his girth making him go crazy.

"m'gonna cum...p-please can i cum?" you babble, unable to push out words.

"cum for me, brat. milk my cock, s-so good f'me."

he watches your head lull back, "i-i'm cumming..o-oh," you climax with a loud moan, your head tilted back with your eyes shut and your mouth in an 'o' shape.

"so good for me," jay mumbles roughly, his pace now punishing as he desperately chases his own high.

you begin to whine from overstimulation, clenching around his cock unintentionally.

he could feel his stomach swirl, you squeezing him tight only adding to his building pressure as he grips your hips in a punishing hold.

his eyes flutter before a loud groan pushes out of him, his orgasm strong as his pace slows down to slowly ride out his high.

you squeal when you feel him shoot his load into you, feeling his warm cum coat your walls.

you watch the boy with wide eyes, feeling him rub against your sensitive walls—watching how his eyes closed once he hit his climax.

you close your eyes, relishing in the feeling of being full. suddenly, you hear click. your eyes snap open, mouth falling agape when you realize that jay had taken a photo.

"w-wait."

you feel him pull out, suddenly feeling empty and hollow before your watching him pull on his clothes. you feel his cum dribble out of your worn out cunt, looking down to see it pooling out of you and onto the desk.

confused, you hop off of the desk.

big mistake, you immediately fall to the ground.

you whimper when you feel jays hand grip onto her bicep, pulling you up and letting you hold onto him as he continues to dress.

"d-did you just take a photo of me?" you ask desperately, your eyebrows furrowed and the pit in your stomach fills with dread.

"w-here are you going?" you squeak as you watch him button the last button on his previously wrinkle-free school shirt.

"home," he answers nonchalantly.

"b-but the photo?"

"and you should too, wouldn't want daddy dearest to file a missing person report," he teases, ignoring the questions regarding the photo he had taken.

you stare at him, "w-wait," you start only for jays glare to shut you up.

"shut up and clean yourself up, my cum is oozing down your leg you nasty bitch," he snaps before he's bending down to grab your clothes, handing them to you.

you hesitantly oblige, "w-what now?"

jay lets out a small sarcastic laugh, "what now?"

you nod, your body still shaking as you start to slide on your shirt—your bra long gone.

"now, you behave. you don't taunt, tease or bully, understand? or else-" he pulls out his phone, a picture of you fucked out with his dick still in you. your hair was messy and your lips swollen and read, marks scattered all of your upper body. "this gets sent around. got it?"

you nod slowly, swallowing harshly at his threat. your bottom lip wobbled as tears threatened to spill out of your eyes making jay coo. using two of his fingers to lift up your chin, he leans down to lick away the stray tears on your cheek, "don't cry sweetie, just don't be a bitch and you'll be fine."

he then grins, "i think i made you cum a few times, no?"

"h-huh?"

"'jays probably never made a girl cum before, he probably doesn't even know how to in the first place'," he mimicked with a lazy look.

"j-jay-" you start only for him to grab the nape of your neck to pull you close.

"listen to me and listen carefully brat, tomorrow you're going to apologize to me in front of everyone and you're going to do exactly as I say, understood?" he threatens, his eyes blazing daring you to defy him.

"or else, you know what," referring to the picture on his phone.

you whine at his harsh grip before nodding, "words brat."

"yes, sir."

"good."

he harshly lets go of you, your frail body toppling back slightly—bumping into the desk you were set on top of only a few minutes ago.

he starts to walk towards the door of the class, the keys that the teacher had trusted him with in his palm.

he reaches the door and grips the handle, stopping for a second to turn and look at you.

"oh, and don't wear panties tomorrow—i have a few things planned. have fun cleaning yourself up, __," he grins before leaving you behind.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

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fleurizo · 2 months ago

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flirting during a live concert is crazy

#sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #sonic idol au #sonic fanart #shadow the hedgehog #shadonic #sonic x shadow #sth fanart #kpop

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sparklingchim · 4 days ago

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reckless | jjk

pairing: idol!jungkook x producer!reader

word count: 3.8k

tropes: idol!jungkook, producer!reader, established relationship, childhood best friends

rating: pg

warnings: smooches!!, jungkook’s being very touchy <3, smoking, lots of pda, one (1) butt squeeze, lots of teasing n flirting (they're in love ur honour), mentions of jk being on a diet, mentions of oc being bullied in the past, just soft lovesick jk <3

summary: a casual date, the skirt’s a little too short, the night a little too quiet, and jungkook's hands on you like he's never going to let go.

a/n: writing this was so therapeutic im this 🤏 close to breaking no contact ❤️ (also dare i say this is the maybe in another universe couple <3)

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

When you round the corner of the building, it’s not hard to find Jungkook.

He’s leaned against his Harley, dark clothes hanging easy on him, making him blend into the night. He has a faint frown on his face as he scans the empty street, toying with his lip ring like he’s lost in thought.

Once he spots you, though, everything softens. His eyes go all boba-round and warm, crinkling at the corners as a smile stretches across his face. That stupid pretty one that makes your chest feel full. He straightens up a little.

“Sorry for making you wait,” you say when you reach him, rising on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck. You hug him tightly. You melt into him without thinking. His hands naturally land on the small of your back, holding you close in his embrace.

“It’s okay, baby.” Jungkook leans back just enough to press a little kiss to your lips.

One of his hands dip even lower, brushing over the curve of your butt and the light fabric of your skirt. It doesn’t take long before he grazes bare skin, catching just the edge where the hem ends and you begin.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“Oh, it was so fun!” you beam, hands coming together in an excited little clap in front of your chest. You bounce slightly.

It had been a long day filming at one of the major companies in Seoul, part of that new show about the behind-the-scenes process of producing k-pop songs. The set was huge – too many lights, too many people, and so many cameras that you couldn’t even look around without feeling watched.

Everything felt loud and fast and intimidating, like you were going to mess up just by standing there.

“I was still really nervous in the beginning because there were a lot of people, but I did what you told me over the phone this morning and reminded myself that just being there already meant I belonged. That in a little while this would be just another thing that I’ve overcome.”

Dare you mention that just this morning, you felt like throwing up at the thought of today’s schedule – and yet, somehow, it turned into something you ended up loving. Getting to work on something you’re genuinely passionate about, surrounded by new people who love it just as much as you, felt amazing, inspiring.

“I told you it wouldn’t be as bad. You wanted to call in sick,” Jungkook reminds you, teasing you with an arched brow.

“I felt so anxious this morning!”

“You underestimate what you’re capable of.”

“Anyways.” Your shoulders slump slightly. “I’m exhausted now.”

“We can just go to my place if you want.” He gently tucks your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek.

“No. I wanna go to the Han River with you,” you say, lips tugging into a pout.

Jungkook grabs the collar of his hoodie and pulls it over his head. A glimpse of his toned abdomen flashes before his black tee falls back into place. He swings the hoodie around your waist, draping it carefully before tying it snug at the front.

“Can’t drive my bike in a short skirt like this,” he explains in a mumble, smoothing the hoodie down over your butt.

“You helped me pick out this outfit this morning.”

If you’d been left alone in your anxious spiral this morning, you probably would’ve just thrown on whatever comfy thing was closest. But after Jungkook talked you down over the phone, his voice all soft and steady, you felt a little more okay. Okay enough to want to feel pretty, at least. So you stood in front of your overflowing closet, doors hanging open, letting him help you pick something out over facetime.

“Yeah well. You look pretty. I wasn’t thinking about logistics.”

You roll your eyes, but your face warms anyway. “You’re the logistics.”

“Sue me for getting distracted.” He pecks your temple, grinning as he pulls back.

Then he crouches next to the Harley, lifting the seat to reveal a small storage compartment. With a bit of manoeuvring, he pulls out a black helmet, matching his own.

He turns back to you and holds it out like it’s something delicate. “C’mere,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back gently before slipping the helmet over your head and securing the strap under your chin.

“Too tight?” he murmurs, adjusting the strap with the pads of his fingers.

You shake your head.

He grabs his own helmet from the handlebar, slipping it on with practiced ease. The engine rumbles to life with a twist of his wrist, loud and steady. He swings one leg over the bike and settles in before turning to glance at you over his shoulder. He holds his hand out to you.

“Hop on, baby.”

You take his hand, grabbing his shoulder with your other one for leverage as you climb on behind him. Your hands move to circle his middle once you’re properly sitting.

“You good?” He cranes his neck back to you, looking you over.

“Yes,” you reply, hugging his back. “Drive safely, please.”

The engine hums beneath you, the vibration slipping through your legs and settling in your chest as Jungkook coaxes the Harley onto the road.

The wind rushes past in silky ribbons, threading through your hair and curling under your skirt, making you curl closer into his back. His hoodie sways around your legs, and his scent, clean laundry and the last bit of cologne clinging to his skin, fills your lungs. You rest your cheek against the strong curve of his back.

Seoul twinkles around you in bits and pieces, like someone sprinkled glitter across the skyline. Streetlights blink down like stars with somewhere to be.

At a red light, Jungkook reaches for your hand without even looking, like it’s second nature. His fingers find yours and give them a slow, reassuring squeeze that makes your chest flutter. Then his hand drifts upward, trailing a lazy path along your arm before slipping behind him. His touch lands on your thigh, gently brushing his thumb over your skin. It’s just a small stroke, but enough to send a little spark dancing up your spine.

Eventually, the buildings thin out, replaced by the open stretch of the Han River, glistening under the city’s glow. Jungkook rolls into a quiet patch near the railing and cuts the engine.

“My mum would kill me if she knew I was riding a bike with you,” you say.

Jungkook huffs a laugh as he slips off his helmet. With a little shake of his head his hair falls back into place. “My mum would kill me for letting you ride it with me.” He turns slightly to look at you, flashing his soft dimple as he reaches to unclip your helmet.

“And yet,” you retort as he helps lift it off your head, “here we are.”

“Reckless,” he grins, brushing your hair back into place. “But cute.”

After a quiet walk along the river, you settle onto a bench facing the water.

“I even got a bit of the lyrics done for the song we finished producing,” you say, tucking your hands into your sleeves

Jungkook hums, slinging his arm over the back of the bench and letting it rest behind your shoulders, pulling you closer. “You need to let me listen to it.”

“I’m not giving you the song.”

“Ah, it’s always worth a try.”

“I’ll start working with you when you guys are over this...era of music you’re in right now.”

“Era of music?” Jungkook scoffs. “You find new words how to describe the fact that you don’t like the new music every time.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you whine, falling into his teasing. “It’s not that I don’t like the new music. It’s just not my type of production,” you quickly defend, truthful.

“At least let me listen to it.”

“When I’m finished you can.”

He lets out a small groan. “I’m terrible at being patient.”

“Oh, I know. Don’t have to remind me.” He’s an impatient boyfriend disguised as your number one fan (which, let’s be honest, he is). Always acting like he’s not trying that hard – when really, he’s the most obvious about it.

You roll your eyes every time he launches into a totally casual, totally unplanned, “hey, wanna show me a little something?” but you love it, every time. You love the way he sneaks into your world like that. Softly, stubbornly.

The sneaky bribes, the casual shoulder nudges, the way he tries to coax you into playing something, anything, even if it’s unfinished. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s just a late night, the two of you curled up on the couch, guitar perched on your lap, him humming half-written lyrics with his knees touching yours and a smile tucked into his voice. Songs that only live between you two.

“I’ll show it later to you,” you finally say. There’s not much of a fight when it comes to Jungkook. “Missed you.” You rest your head on his shoulder, hugging his arm.

“We should do something before my schedule gets crazy again.” Jungkook pats down his front pockets. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Like a small vacation?”

“I’d love that.”

You eye him as he slips a cigarette between his lips, cupping the flame with one hand as he lights it. The cigarette glows at the tip, smoke curling past his cheekbones and drifting in the opposite direction as he tilts his head to avoid blowing it your way. You still wrinkle your nose and lean your head away, your clutch around his arm loosening.

“You’re buying me ice cream for smoking next to me,” you mutter, half playful, half serious.

He exhales to the side again, then flicks the ash off the end with a small grin. “I was already gonna.”

You give him a look. “Not the point.”

You sigh, the slightest hint of annoyance seeping through, but your fingers find his again anyway, slipping between them. He’s warm, even with the breeze coming off the water. The smoke lingers in the air between you, but his scent cuts through it – familiar, stupidly comforting.

“I know.” He tilts his head toward you, eyes tracing your face like he’s trying to read something only he can see.

When you saw Jungkook smoke for the first time while he was waiting for you in the dark, after not seeing each other for a very long time, you felt something twist in your chest. A mix of anger, sadness, and the sick realisation that time had changed him in ways you hadn't been there to see.

It messed you up a bit. Realising he changes in little ways when you're not around to witness it. It made you wonder if he's still the same Jungkook you've always known. If he's still your Jungkook.

Upon talking with him the entire night you quickly came to the realisation that Jungkook will be as much yours as you're as much his for the rest of your lives.

Maybe not in loud, dramatic ways, but in the quiet constants.

There is no version of your life where he doesn't exist - you're too intertwined with each other.

“I say we go on a weekend trip to Jeju,” Jungkook says, his gaze fixed ahead.

Your head pops up. “That seafood restaurant,” you gasp, eyes widening.

He watches you, smiling at your excitement.

“We have to go,” you say, tugging his arm. “I still think about that abalone porridge from that tiny place by the harbour, you remember? With the old lady who called us lovebirds.”

“How could I not?” Jungkook laughs. “She told me to marry you or someone else would.”

You laugh too. “She wasn’t wrong.”

Jungkook snorts, flicking the half-smoked cigarette away and stubbing it out under his shoe. He turns back to you, and you feel his finger brush over your ring finger – it's a subtle, fleeting touch, but you wouldn’t dare miss it.

“I wouldn’t ever let that happen.” He leans in, catching you in a warm kiss.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips, then pull back slightly. “But don’t kiss me after you’ve just smoked.”

Jungkook sighs like you’ve wounded him. Dramatically. Then he leans back in, peppering kisses along your cheek, down the slope of your jaw, and onto your neck, ignoring your protests with every one.

“Jungkook,” you warn through laughter, swatting at him half-heartedly. “We’re not at home.”

“But I still love you the same.” It’s a gentle murmur against your neck, nuzzling the skin there before leaving one last kiss just below your jaw.

“Jungkook.”

He finally pulls back, just enough to meet your eyes, and his teasing fades into something more softer, more quieter.

“I love the way you say my name.”

His mouth curves into the faintest smile, just slightly lifting the corner of his lips. But his eyes hold the sincerity behind his words, the soft glow of them making you feel like you’re the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

Every time Jungkook says this, you’re reminded of when you still wore uniforms and shared secrets in the quiet spaces between classes. When he said it for the first time, you thought he was poking fun at you like the others for pronouncing words differently because you grew up abroad, in the US.

He told you it sounded softer, rounder, like it meant something more when it came from you. He said it made him feel like someone safe. Someone yours.

He doesn’t say it often, but every time he does, you’re reminded of the past. And a soft, nostalgic feeling settles in your chest at the memory of fifteen-year-old Jungkook and you falling in love for the first time. It’s a bittersweet ache because when you think of that time, all you see is blue, but Jungkook was the one thing that still felt warm. Like hope tucked into a person.

And now, years later, even with everything you’ve both grown through and grown out of, that version of him still lives in moments like this. In quiet confessions and shared glances.

Heat nestles in your cheeks. You look away – straight at the river with the twinkling lights reflecting off of it. They remind you of his eyes.

“What?” His voice carries a teasing lilt, like he can’t quite place where your sudden shyness is coming from, but he’s definitely enjoying it.

“I dunno,” you mumble under your breath, hiding your face on his chest while keeping your eyes trained on the water. “I just get overwhelmed sometimes.”

“By what?”

“By how much I love you.”

“Wanna know something?”

“Hm?”

“I do too.”

You smile into his shirt, warmth blooming in your chest.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “You really know how to kill a man,” he murmurs, voice low and a little awed.

You look up at him at that.

“I love you more,” he says eventually, like it’s the simplest truth. “Like... stupid amounts. Heart-aching amounts.”

You giggle, nose scrunching. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You started it.” He peers down at you, eyes soft. “Now let me be in love with you in peace.”

“I’ll let you love me in peace after we get snacks.”

“Will I ever witness a day where you don’t want something sweet?”

“Nuh-uh.” You shake your head with exaggerated seriousness. “The day can’t successfully end until you’ve had a sweet treat.”

“I actually think you’re singlehandedly keeping the candy industry alive.”

“I should be thanked, honestly.”

You rise to your feet, brushing invisible dust off your skirt as you stand in front of him. Jungkook doesn’t move right away. His eyes trail down to your legs, then to the hem of your skirt, fingers reaching out to tug it just a little lower with that automatic protectiveness he tries (and fails) to hide.

“You’re not cold, baby?” he asks, nodding toward his hoodie tossed over the bench behind him.

“No, I’m okay.”

Still sitting, he tugs you gently by the hips until you’re standing between his knees. His hands find your waist like magnets, thumbs stroking slow circles against the sliver of skin where your top has ridden up.

“I like this spot,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your stomach, right above your belly button. You flinch a little, giggling, fingers slipping into his thick hair.

“You’re such a menace,” you say, voice light, but you don’t pull away.

“And you’re so pretty,” he says, looking up at you from where he’s still crouched against your tummy. His eyes are warm, sparkling. “Like... dangerously pretty. You know that?”

You bite your lip. “Stop.”

“I’m serious.” He rests his chin just above your waistband, arms looping around the back of your thighs like he’s not letting go anytime soon. “Sometimes I think you’re not even real.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hold back your smile. “That’s what people say right before they do something stupid.”

He grins up at you, squeezes your thigh just enough to make you squeak. “Then I must be about to do something really stupid.”

“I feel like that’s something for home. Not public.”

“You think so?” He tilts his head slightly.

“Jungkook.” It’s meant to be a chiding. But instead, it escapes softer than you intended, more like a puff of air. Like we shouldn’t but I wanna know anyway. Like stop talking... but actually, no – keep going please.

Instead of backing off like any reasonable person would, he smirks, then has the audacity to give your butt the lightest squeeze, fingers quick and shameless.

You squeal, jumping back. “Jungkook!”

Flashing you a smile that’s somehow both innocent and guilty, he casually grabs his hoodie from the bench and stands up.

You stare at him, half scandalized, half trying not to smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Come on,” he says, slinging the hoodie over one shoulder glancing over at you with that smug softness that drives you crazy. “You wanted snacks, no?” He grabs your hand.

You narrow your eyes, but your feet already fall into step beside his.

It’s not a long walk until you reach the next convenient store.

“It looks kinda busy in there,” you tell Jungkook, peering through the glass. “I’ll just run in real quick. You can wait out here.”

Jungkook squints into the store, brows furrowed. “Who’s in there? I don’t want you going in alone if there’s some creeps.”

You roll your eyes and nudge him with your elbow. “It’s just a group of girls. Relax,” you say. “What do you want?”

He pulls his black card from his pocket. “Nothing for me. Just treat yourself, baby.”

You snatch the card from his hand. “Don’t mind if I do.”

You exit the store with a slightly overstuffed plastic bag tugging at your wrist. Being a girl who loves snacks, is hopelessly indecisive – and has her boyfriend’s black card – is a dangerous combo.

Jungkook tilts his head, trying to sneak a look inside the bag. “What’d you get?”

“Too much to name,” you say breezily, fishing out the ice cream resting right on top. “Got this for us, though.” It’s the ice cream that comes with two sticks so you can snap it in half and share. “I always think of you when I see this,” you admit, passing him one half after cracking it down in the middle.

“Ah, I didn’t want to eat any sweets today.”

“Too late,” you tease, nudging it closer to his mouth. “You already kissed me, so that’s off the table.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “That counts?”

“It absolutely does.” You raise your brows. “Now eat, please.”

He leans forward and takes a small bite straight from your hand. “Happy now?”

“Very much so.” You swipe the pad of your finger over a smudge of ice cream at the corner of his mouth, then lick it off with a grin.

He huffs a quiet laugh, head tilting as he watches you with that impossibly fond look. “You’re trouble.”

“Says you!”

With a sigh, he takes it from you. “You’re only getting away with this because you’re cute.”

“I know.” You smile around the ice cream in your mouth. “I can’t have a boyfriend who says no to a sweet treat.”

You fall into step beside him, walking slowly as you both nibble at the halves in your hands.

“I’m dieting.”

“For what?”

He doesn’t answer, just shrugs, proving your point.

That’s when your mind slips, just a little, to all the ways you used to be like this. All the self-destructive habits he had to gently pry from your grip. Jungkook has saved you many times. And you want to be there for him just as much he was there for you when no one chose you. When he was the only one who saw you – really saw you – and still chose to stay.

You reach for his hand, linking your fingers through his.

“I feel like sometimes you live your life like it’s harder than it has to be. Like you’re holding yourself back, setting rules that you don’t have to follow.”

Jungkook lets out a quiet breath. “I know,” he mutters, squeezing your hand. “You’re the first person who made me think maybe I deserve ease too. You make it feel okay to slow down.”

“Am I?” you ask sceptically. You hope you do, but are you actually?

He tips his ice cream in your direction.

You laugh. “Baby steps.”

You glance up at him. He’s licking his ice cream, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth like he doesn’t even realize it’s there. It makes your chest ache a little. In that sweet way.

“Jungkook?”

His head turns slightly, face lit soft by the golden glow of a nearby streetlamp. His eyes flick to you, a soft, curious glint catching in them as your gaze meets his. You lean your head against his arm.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for sticking with me through every version of myself.”

It’s a thought that catches you off guard – maybe not entirely, you’re not sure – but suddenly it’s there, clear and undeniable. A reminder that, through every change, every version of yourself, he’s never left. Whether you’ve been at your best or your worst, he’s always stayed. And sometimes, it’s hard to wrap your mind around the fact that someone can love you through all of that.

“There’s never been a version I didn’t love,” he says quietly, like it’s not something he even has to think about.

Your heart stumbles a little, eyes stinging in that warm, fuzzy way that only he can cause.

“You make it really easy, you know,” he adds, brushing his thumb gently across the back of your hand. “Loving you. I don’t even think about it. I just do.”

You blink up at him, lips twitching into the kind of smile that only he gets to see. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

He tugs you closer to him, your sides brushing with each step.

“You existed.”

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook idol au #idol jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts angst #bts fic #bts x you #bts x reader #bts #bts imagines

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idolverse-official · 3 months ago

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#idolverse #idolau✨#utmv #idol error #sans au #undertale aus #undertale

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alphabetboyluvr · 1 year ago

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habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

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

wordcount: 16k

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

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

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

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

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Obviously."

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

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

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

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

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

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

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

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

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

A routine grew. Habits formed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

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

But he was, and it was lovely.

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

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

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

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

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

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure."

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

"You think I can't be trusted?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

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

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

Have you not served him enough?

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

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

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

"Excuse me, sir."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

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

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

You: you not coming in tonight?

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

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

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

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You: they'd rather die :) x

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

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

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

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

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

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

You: charming x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

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

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

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

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

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

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

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

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

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

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

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

"No!"

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

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

"I'm not!"

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

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

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

"Yes, we are."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he did, and you damn well know it.

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

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

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

You're silent when he says this.

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

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

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

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

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

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

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

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

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

"No one."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed.

It's that you're separate.

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

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

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You really have to ask?"

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

They always have done.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

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

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

The irony isn't lost on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

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

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

Nothing happened between you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

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

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

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

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

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

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

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

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

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

"Mistaken identity."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But every cloud has a silver lining.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're gonna kill Taehyung.

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

"Safe," you grimace.

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

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

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

"My sentiments exactly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wish you didn't.

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

"Excuse me?"

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

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

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

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

And so he doesn't try.

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

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

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

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

"You know that's not—"

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

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

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

Feels like it, too.

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

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

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

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

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

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

"I didn't ghost you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why shouldn't I?"

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

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But I—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And what was that?" You encourage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"S'all there is. They alright?"

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

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

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

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

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

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

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

"I promise," you swear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

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

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

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's the thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

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

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

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

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

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

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

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

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

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

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

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

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