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taegularities · 9 months

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colour me in: redraft | jjk (m)

Summary: The calm is more appreciated after a storm. Life with Jungkook proves to you that sometimes, joy can, in fact, overshadow grief. Yet, not without confronting and removing all hurdles standing in your way once and for all.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some tame angst, sooo much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: new relationshippppp, so much hugging and kissing, yoongi!! tae!!, tears, abandonment issues, talk about social anxiety (just briefly and nothing serious!), jungkook drops a big question :'), a surprise in the middle, a surprise near the end, and then a SURPRISE at the end lol, many surprises, they're so crazy for each other it's gross; explicit sexual content: okay – kook is wearing a chain.. this vibe :'), making out, showering together, shower sex, spanking, biting, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, mouth/face f*cking, mirrorssss, he likes her ass and tiddies, tears, choking, v brief ass stuff, rough and soft sex, dom and big cawk jk, vocal jk, multiple orgasms, they're simps; ALSO YEAH THE ENDING :') ➳ word count: 25.3k ➳ a/n: so when i said this chapter would be shorter… welp lol. but i still think it introduces the next arc really well. i kinda love the ending!! .. and the next part will be </3 :'''') as always beta'd by my lovely @missgeniality 🤍 i hope you guys like this one a lot. worked my ass off for this fr :') if you do, please do support the chapter and interact with me, too, it makes my day <3 ➳ listen to: i need u by yaeow | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER

Monday morning’s breakfast is awkward. Or at least, the very first minute of it.

The hands of your watch drift to 9 AM; you should’ve expected you wouldn’t be occupying the dining table alone. Your parents, sipping the last of their coffee, aren’t that much of a surprise after all.

You breathe a quiet breath of relief when their eyes dart towards your timid forms at the threshold, then back to the table. And a moment later, they’re pushing their chairs back across the marble floor before they clear the path to breakfast for the two of you.

Your father acknowledges you with a brief, polite nod on his way out, even flashing a similarly quick smile. Ingenuine, because his glance, fleeting when directed to you, is as disappointed as your Mom’s behind him.

Today, you understand. Somewhere in the depths of your recovering mind, you feel upset about shitfacing yourself so thoroughly, too.

You haven’t seen your mother in over two days. Jungkook’s post-showcase confessions brought you to Eun, and the next morning you barely scanned your room before you left for her place again.

Guess the momentary encounter in the hallway doesn’t quite count; you could hardly crack your eyes open. Combined with half the dozen naps you took in your locked room the very next day, you won’t exactly expect pride from her right now.

Until now, as she advances towards your body, you didn’t consider much of her side; you stayed focused on the other occurrences passing after sunset. Moments whose scent your sheets still carry.

As your mother comes to a stand, you prepare your vocal cords, breathing in to explain yourself until you realise that she isn’t looking at you at all. Her eyes are firmly glued to Jungkook’s face, devoid of enmity for once.

Instead, she flattens her dress, sighing through her red-tinted lips before she nods towards him and simply says, “Thank you.”

And that’s it. A little breathtaking, entirely new.

You’re dumbfounded when she leaves; Jungkook doesn’t manage a single word. You imagine that if you’re baffled, he’s probably rethinking her words to assure he didn’t hallucinate them.

But neither of you did. And the silence lingering for a couple more seconds proves the depth of reality; not that you’ll change your mind about leaving your place. But the hint of appreciation, shot directly at him is a pleasant first nevertheless.

Breakfast is patient but fast. The quiet atmosphere doesn’t derive from the night before or what your mother just left you with, but from the emotional fatigue slowly dropping off your shoulders.

Jungkook lets you feast in peace, a soft palm rubbing over the back of your hand every now and then to assure you’re okay. And you are. You’re getting used to these changes.

To this alternative to whatever you feared before. A chance to erase all words and start on a blank page; a white canvas, waiting for vibrant colours instead of monochrome gloom.

Yet, despite the tranquillity last night, still present in the air and in your aching limbs, you don’t understand the sincerity of all the confessions he uttered until you leave.

Because breathing in your car isn’t as suffocating as it was the last few weeks. Back when you’d navigate through the town alone, the passenger seat empty. Or when you plucked up the courage and drove to the showcase numbly.

Or when the pain pierced through your chest; when your drunk ass thought the world would remain blue forever.

All of it is gone when you buckle up, shifting in your seat as you announce, “Okay. Let’s finally get you home.”

The engine roars for a moment, the car trembling, but you only register the knot in your throat when he says, “Feels so unfair of me. Having my girl drive me around so much.”

You don’t miss the endearment; neither the way your heart skips a beat.

Incapable of a proper reaction, you clear your throat and stutter, all at once and oddly in succession until you settle on a weak, “Why unfair?”

“Because. You do it a lot.”

You really do not. The night the museum closed and you dropped him off at your place was one of a few times; besides, he’s operated your vehicle more than enough before, too.

But you don’t contradict him, instead lightly suggest, “Well, you can drive if you want.”

You’re relieved when he joins your smile, dimples ever-so-sweet and genuine as he promises, “It’s fine. I’ll just stare at you.”

The shudder along your spine is delightful — relentless, he keeps your nerves alight. Perhaps he’s back to the self you knew pre-broken-hearts, playful and teasing, but the effect of his words curses through your veins hotter than ever.

“That’s creepy,” you still retort; you’ll gladly keep fighting this sweet, awkward battle against compliments for life, unaware how to handle them. “And it makes me nervous.”

“Sorry.”

Jungkook laughs, the back of two fingers reaching to your cheek to graze it featherlightly. Maybe he feels the heat beneath your skin, enhanced through his touch.

By now, you’ve spent a year with him — as a party fling, a class frenemy and a blue flower. But each second ticking away brings a new wave of soft, shy speechlessness. New honeymoon emotions.

The certainty of his reciprocated feelings, the fact that you’re finally on the same page, makes you rethink his tender confessions and touches differently. Makes you navigate the relationship differently.

His eyes drift back to the quiet, narrow street, surrounded by houses and blooming gardens. Probably as tired of the idyllic utopia as you, he doesn’t spare the suburban setting any more attention.

He only lets a flat hand rub against his thighs, nipping at his clothing as he says, “God, I can’t wait to get out of these damn joggers.”

Right. While not a main focus, you did find the special attire at breakfast today quite amusing.

“Did you even get to shower since picking me up?” you ask.

“Yeah. When you were napping again yesterday. Just gotta wash my hair later tonight.”

Hmm. You spent half your day knocked out; Jungkook could’ve circled the world and you wouldn’t have known.

“Oh. Good.”

The road proceeds straight, emptier near the suburbs. You allow a reckless glance before tackling busy streets; his eyes meet yours in curiosity, hair even messier than the night he met you in front of the bar.

When he left his apartment in joggers and an old shirt, mane untamed and no extra clothing at hand, he probably didn’t expect to abandon his place for so long. It gives you solace that he doesn’t regret it.

You drop the million memories of yesterday’s sunset burning into your eyes and everything that introduced it. The drunk words and the begging.

And then drop everything that followed afterwards; more pleading, more touching, more confessions that were in no way uttered through inebriate but not quite through sobriety either.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

You drop all the remembrances to focus on the moment; just to make sure that it’s real. So you ask, “Why didn’t you wash your hair there, too?”

For a moment, you see a flicker in his eyes, short-lived and quick; and his answer shoots out even more rapidly, “Just so.”

He emphasises his admission with a shrug of his shoulder, but it’s not nearly as convincing as he anticipates. Not buying a word, you push again, “C’mon.”

“I swear.”

“I’m curious now, though.”

There’s a momentary drop of silence before Jungkook hums, thinking as though he’s crafting a plausible excuse. Then, he says, “I didn’t wanna be away for too long.”

“…Why?”

“Why would I want to be?”

Ah…

Hmm. Well, maybe that’s enough for now.

Maybe he’s still not used to laying his secrets open. Maybe you need to practise patience, too, and stop digging like that.

You know that’s not all there is, but you certainly understand that it’s not a lie after all. Despite the pause and the obvious way his brain racked for a reason, his tone is genuine. You’ve experienced his insecurities before — that’s not what it was this time.

So you focus on the steering wheel instead, turning it left and away from the truck you drove way too close to. Your distraction might kill you — right there, next to you, clearing his throat and sitting up.

“Oh,” he says, segueing, and you let him, “wait, I forgot. Could we stop by at Yoongi’s for a sec? I wanted to see how he’s been doing.”

An abrupt change in topics, but not too abstract. As someone merely acquainted with the man, you’ve been collecting info on his state from Jimin; of course Jungkook would drop by personally.

You take a look at your digital watch; it’s barely ten and you don’t need to get away before 10:45. Taehyung agreed to meet with you to accompany you to your new potential flat again, so you should have time for a detour.

But.

“Is he…” you start, “gonna be okay with me being there?”

“Why?”

“I mean, just ‘cause… You know. We weren’t the closest for a while.”

Jungkook’s forehead wrinkles in new perplexion, muttering a few words. It takes a couple seconds — but eventually, he figures out that you’re not referring to Yoongi and yourself, and his expression changes immediately.

To subtle pain, you’d guess, like he doesn’t want to relive the memory. Like it never happened; like you weren’t two pieces of the same shattered heart this entire time.

But then he sighs, a hand wandering to your thigh. He kneads it softly, as a reminder to himself and to you that the past isn’t transpiring right now; that you’ve finally breathed and waded through it.

His optimism is encouraging when he says, “Nah. He thinks you’re cool.”

“I guess,” you mumble. You tap the steering wheel nervously, lips in a thin line before you add a hushed, “And if not, that’s alright, isn’t it? Like, hey, as long as you like me? Yeah, I shouldn’t overthink it…”

Jungkook releases air through his nose. You perceive a subtle shake of his head, as if to scold you, hear him say earnestly but gently, “Don’t worry about me. I don’t just like you.”

And whether casual or not, his words engulf your body immediately, like a soothing warm touch across your chest, yet effectively freezing your beating heart in place.

You can’t pinpoint whether the weight of his own words ever affects him as much as it affects you, or whether harbouring these emotions has become a familiar habit to him. At least to you, his tone is conversational and promising, perhaps even subliminally reassuring.

“At the very least,” he continues, “he’ll never disapprove of you the way Jimin disapproves of me.”

Which… snaps you back into reality for a second.

Your friend’s name is connected to more than mere dislike for the man next to you; currently, you think of dark nights and lamp-lit streets. After-midnight shenanigans and near tears in your own car, driven by the man who broke and mended your heart.

It reminds you of a blurry picture; two guys standing near an entrance, the older of them patting the other’s shoulder; smiling at him.

You do wonder if it was a fabrication of your mind.

“Forget Jimin,” you tell Jungkook, speech broken when you take another left and resumed when broader streets start. “Also. He did say he’s growing fond of you.”

“Because you like me. I still need to prove my worth to him.”

You tut.

“Kook, you don’t need to do anything. He’ll come around eventually. Just be you.”

“It’s fine, honestly.” He leans in, nudging your elbow, echoing you with a teasing undertone as he says, “As long as you like me.”

You love it when the initial nature of your relationship breaks through the mist of newfound passion; when you find the foundation of what you were, remembering how you landed here.

Which is why you bite back a laugh the moment you suppress a sassy, teasing remark, as if on reflex. One steer shy from pulling into a parking lot, you breathe out. If you halted here now, you’d kiss him, you’re sure.

But you merely laugh, squinting your eyes as you say, “You’re okay.”

Yoongi’s apartment, now inhabited by only one instead of two people, lies a couple miles from the campus. Jungkook guides you through the streets, jumping from one harmless topic to another — you reach his friend’s place a lot faster than you expected.

The building stands at a quiet place, surrounded by mid-high trees that give the grey colour of the complex a bit of liveliness. You walk to the entrance laughing about something stupid, a subtle nudge of his shoulder here, you pushing against his arm there.

But despite the familiarity and whatever occurred last weekend, it’s still odd jumping into the girlfriend role just yet. The word itself won’t even roll off your tongue very easily so far because you can’t believe a thing about this new reality.

So your hand dangles next to his awkwardly. Your thoughts keep drifting, registering half his sentence at times. What-if situations of gentle kisses and upcoming nights spent together tighten your chest.

Jungkook’s speech is clear and fluent, so you don’t know what your impact on him is exactly. At least he’s made sure you do have one on him — but you still wish you had a map through his mind to understand every thought he houses for you. Every emotion.

On the way up you feel a little dizzy; whether it’s due to the circular shape of the staircase or his proximity, you don’t know. You only realise that something’s still bothering you when you’re halfway up, coming to a halt with one foot on the next step.

“Okay, seriously,” you say, and he turns to you immediately, puzzled as he drops to the same level as you. Close to you.

“What?”

“You said you didn’t wanna leave,” you repeat, still stuck on the hair washing and staying longer thought, “why not?”

The answer could be simple. Could be rooted in emotions and the confessions you later uttered — but there must be something more. You saw it in the brief feeling flashing across his eyes, sitting in the passenger’s seat with silence sealing his lips.

Maybe something happened… because something always happens.

“You’re still thinking about that?” Jungkook questions, eyes wide in disbelief; lips pouting.

“No secrets, right?”

This seems to snap him out of all mysteries, last night’s conversation travelling to the forefront of his mind. But something about your curiosity amuses him. He wraps the fingers of his left hand around the staircase reeling, head dropping with a delicate smile.

His hair hides his eyes, but you know they’re sparkling; voice a mild drizzle when he starts, “It’s…” He draws in, inked digits touching your elbow before moving up your arm absentmindedly. “Don’t worry so much. It’s nothing harmful at all.”

You wait. Let his thumb graze your neck, up to your chin.

He sighs, almost exasperated in a way. “You speak in your sleep, you know?”

Wait. What?

You blink, thoughts disoriented. The staircase is dimly lit, but you recognise the slight upward curve of his lips; more empathetic than teasing.

So you still do?

“Huh?” you make.

“I think you dreamed of waking up a couple times? You hadn’t, though, and it’d always be something about being alone again.”

Again.

The word reverberates through your mind, dragging and stretching. Didn’t you once read that a broken heart is akin to serious rehab, accompanied by withdrawal symptoms and slowly healing scars?

You guess your heart was hurting more than you already knew.

“Okay,” you say, nodding when he does, thumb lifting your head when you drop it. You swallow thickly. “What did I say exactly?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know anymore. Something about me leaving. And I was scared of waking you up while gone ‘cause you’d actually think I’d left.”

You hum. Allow yourself a moment to process the info; you seek out fragments of your dreams, but you draw a blank. You feel guilty about his concerns, yet relieved. Vulnerable. And somewhat reassured.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say.

Your voice is barely above a whisper — less because of the conversation. More because of the touch on your cheek. It’s soft against your skin, and you shiver. The flutter in your chest is only just bearable.

That’s the thing about falling in love. It’s sweet — so much sometimes that it twists your guts. You’re in so deep, you could hurl.

“Nah. You don’t need to worry about this anymore, okay?” he murmurs.

His eyes dig into yours. Dark and shiny through his healthy tresses, livelier than ever. Sincere.

You, on the other hand, must look unconvinced without intending to, because his mouth aligns with yours soon after.

He exhales, tilting his head, and says, “Look,” leans in, leaves a featherlight kiss against your cheek, right next to his thumb, “I mean it.”

Guess being with him comes with occasional mental blackouts. And regular arrhythmia. The palpitations behind your ribs are almost ridiculous; instead of gripping your own chest, you grasp his shirt immediately.

Lightly, as if you could collapse without this anchor.

He lets you pull him closer just a little, whispering as if someone could hear, “What’s wrong?”

Vulnerability hidden, you blink again, and joke, “Nothing. Just thought you were gonna kiss me.”

Jungkook smiles. His nose brushes against yours, toying a bit, and his bunny teeth make him look somewhat younger when he voices, “You want me to kiss you?”

“I always do.”

Your grin is playful, but your heart is pounding in your chest. Who would’ve thought the journey from a car to an apartment could be so long, so thrilling?

His snicker is gentle and canorous, knees careful against yours. Your heartbeat accelerates some more, rose-tinted lips opting towards their goal. You part your mouth, ready with a deep breath.

But the two of you are always subject to disturbances — so you’re disappointed but not surprised when you hear rushed steps on top of the staircase, strolling down and crossing your path just when Jungkook backs away.

The stranger passes by you with initial surprise in his eyes, not expecting you, but soon gets over it and drops his gaze again. And once he’s gone, Jungkook winks, a hand on your back pushing you forward gently.

“Later,” he says.

You know as you ascend the stairs.

Know that with the ease with which you handle your feelings for each other, you’ll strive towards a future where you won’t be haunted by dreams of being alone. Where you won’t fear his departure, and where his kisses won’t be interrupted by this cruel world.

The building reminds you of when you’d frequent the dorm you used to know. The walls and hallways are similarly built, narrow and somewhat cheap. They look like most buildings from the inside do, honestly, but you like the pleasant illusion the nostalgia brings.

Even the bathrooms are located near the end of the hallways; Jungkook once told you that Tae and Yoongi have their own kitchen, unlike him back when he still housed his dorm. But there’s a communal bathroom here, too; allegedly one reason why Tae moved out.

The only thing that separates this place from Jungkook’s old dorm is the subtle difference in scent. Not pure testosterone.

You smile.

The mood doesn’t match with what you felt back in June at all.

Back when you stomped to Jungkook’s dorm, furious about yet another insignificant issue, you didn’t think your fingers would ever be brushing his like they are now. Or when you escaped the rain and entered the building’s warmth, your umbrella leaving behind a trail of raindrops.

Your relationships, your priorities, your emotions. Your universe changed faster than the seasons.

As you walk past a random door, Jungkook cranes his neck, staring as if he could x-ray-glare a hole into it and glance at what lays behind it. Perhaps he’s thinking back, too.

You don’t know about all the things he experienced throughout the years there. Part of your heart stings because you remember you weren’t the only girl who ever frequented his place.

But you still left an impression — if the current status of your relationship isn’t proof of it, then the sudden touch along the back of your hand certainly is. A thumb following a vein blindly, opting to grasp your palm into his, yet retracting when you finally come to a stand.

The digit caressing your skin lifts to the door, and his knuckles knock three times, rhythmically. Your chest constricts as you jump back into the moment, probably half as nervous as you’d be if you met Jungkook’s parents.

A moment stretches as you wait for Yoongi to open, allowing yourself just another spiralling thought as you imagine actually daring a meeting with Jungkook’s parents. It’s too early to think about it, isn’t it?

It’s just.

Since yesterday, you’ve created a dozen different scenarios in your head, ranging from a civil, calm conversation with his father to a full snap. Half of you wants to know his genuine thoughts on his son’s sorrows; the other half wants to rage and then bolt away.

Ugh.

When the door swings open, your hand flashes to Jungkook’s. A startled instinct, even though nothing about the action was surprising or scary. But he doesn’t mind — of course he doesn’t.

His eyes rush to yours for a second, warm and somewhat thrilled, his smile permanent. And then he looks back at his friend, quietly squeezing your palm, the shy smile soft as he greets, “You’re walking without clutches, huh?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond right away. He looks from Jungkook to you and back. His gaze isn’t very telling, but you find amusement in it. If you weren’t so ridiculously and inexplicably nervous about his upcoming statement, you’d laugh.

Intently, he grants a peek at your entwined hands, and when he looks at the two of you again, he starts…

Smiling.

Gummies all out, a tiny laugh thrown in between before he says, “Ohoho. You’re here, too?”

The smile turns into a sly grin, a hand clutching the frame of the door. You guess he’s not as balanced after all. Possibly just abandoned his clutches for the short way from the couch to the door.

“I can totally go,” you tell him, the teasing tone missing; soft and small instead.

“Why in the world would you?” Yoongi steps aside carefully, nodding the two of you inside. You oblige, hearing his voice behind you jest, “Now, would you look at that. Did I do that?”

Jungkook automatically drops on the chair at the tiny dining table, like he’s arrived home, and you follow; make yourself comfortable on the seat next to him. There are three chairs, as though carefully chosen for the pair of friends who used to live together and a guest.

Next to you, Jungkook huffs, leaning back as he watches his friend plop onto the chair in front of him, and asks, “How would you’ve done that?”

“Well, you guys gathered at the hospital because of me.”

Right. Good point.

If he just knew how that night played out. Actually, you think he just might, yet not quite aware of its severity.

“Not because of you,” Jungkook promises, “I just charmed her again.”

You laugh. So does Yoongi.

He isn’t irritated or taken aback by the younger’s boldness; in truth, he seems entertained. Arms crossed, eyes small and grin wide. He half mocks, “The young ones are charming for sure these days.”

“Spoken like a true Grandpa,” Jungkook remarks. You press your lips into a thin line, but with a faint smile. You only listen; you’re in the territory of two friends who spend their time roasting each other. You’re not on that level yet, so you observe. “But I had to.”

“You had to, huh?” you joke. Okay, observation broken. Your body tilts towards him. “You didn’t need any of your charm for… this. But still good to know.”

Because you would’ve been putty in his hands, no matter what — charm or not.

"Can confirm," Yoongi agrees, nodding towards his friend, "that he was also a proper mess the last couple weeks. Very out of character."

Your eyes roll to the side to catch a glimpse of him, but the moment you detect the rosy dust on Jungkook's cheeks, you avert your gaze immediately.

Admittedly, the guilt in the middle of your chest is undeniable. But there's comfort in knowing you were never the only half who was deeply, perpetually falling.

Yoongi scratches his temple, doesn't meet your eyes; possibly shy when it comes to conversations like these. But he sounds warm and gentle when he says, "I'm really glad you guys are back."

You’re similarly timid, feeling strange. As if someone’s congratulating you on a fresh marriage. Or maybe that’s just the emotion you want, need to feel.

You say, “Thanks.” And then, ever-so-terrible with compliments, add a little, “Let’s say it was you. Double thank you to the man of the hour.”

Yoongi pulls a grimace hitherto unseen; it doesn’t faze Jungkook, but the Joker-esque grin and wide-eyed nod have you bursting into laughter. His friends are pleasant, you think.

If there was a way to lure Jimin in and convince him of this group’s collective appeal, you wouldn’t hesitate. There’s only a limited time you want him to play the petty, protective friend.

“So, how have you been?” Jungkook eventually asks.

Yoongi rubs the corner of his eye, stretching his injured leg under the table, “Never better. The bank is surviving without me. Besides, I haven’t gotten around to making some music in a while.”

“Tae did tell me you were enjoying your days off.”

Jungkook reacts with a tiny chuckle, but your eyes widen. You let him finish his sentence, and then spit, “Wait, wait. You make music?”

“Oh, I mean… I’m not any good,” he explains, wiggling a hand, a little startled as if he forgot you didn’t know yet. “I just. Make a few beats every now and then and write my own bars and stuff.”

“Wait, rap?” You stare between the boys, to and fro, only a little offended that you didn’t know you had a brooding future musician in your midst. “Can I hea—”

“No.” The answer is immediate. You pout. “Before you ask, I am way too much of a coward.”

“He’s amazing,” Jungkook intrudes.

And you whine, “Unfair, Yoongi.”

He imitates your expression, leaning back, copying your stance, and answers in the same childlike tone, “Warm up to me first! I’ll show it to you one day.”

“One day I’m gon’st hear it,” you declare, overly dramatic with your chin up, “you have my taste in music, you know? I know I’ll like it.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I can try.”

Yoongi blows a raspberry. You’re not sure what you expected; maybe subtle hostility. But the sense of casual camaraderie is refreshing; lounging comfortably in his living room was a picture far from your mind until now, and you think he enjoys the unforeseen gathering, too.

Because after a moment of stillness, a faint smile touches his lips, his voice back to normal and deep as he remarks, “It’s nice that you guys came. I get bored here a lot.”

Right. You kept wondering.

You don’t dive into the matter immediately, instead drenching your voice in a teasing lilt, “Even though Jimin visits you?”

“Shut up.” Mock exasperation rolls his eyes as Jungkook appreciates your joke, one foot pressing against yours under the table. “No. It’s just been lonely since Tae moved out. It’s a two people thing with two bedrooms.”

He shrugs his shoulders, attention fully on you. Jungkook either doesn’t have much to say or doesn’t want to interrupt. Only listens.

“Living here alone feels like I’m wasting space and money,” Yoongi finishes.

Curiosity piqued, you probe, “What did Tae say when he left?”

“He offered to let me move in with him. But that’d be pointless.”

“Why so?”

“He’s awesome for offering, but I think he wanted his own place, you know? Why would I intrude then? But I did tell him I’d look for another place.”

“Have you been?” you ask. You still remember how happy Taehyung looked last time you met him alone.

How he spoke so highly of a life on his own, gladly interrupted by the occasional visits Eun granted him. Yoongi, you think, would probably benefit from acquiring his own place, too — one that doesn’t remind him that someone left him behind, inhabiting a vacant space thought for two.

“Every now and then,” Yoongi admits. “Will think about it some more once my leg’s healed.”

You nod in understanding, a thoughtful hum escaping your lips. Yoongi soon leans forward, naked arms on top of the table, and delves into a discussion about the rising costs of rent.

He outlines the challenges of finding the right place in the bustling city, and explains his worries about the empty space in a too-large apartment. And you listen intently.

But as minutes pass, you can’t help but notice the contemplative silence Jungkook has fallen into.

It’s always the same with him — thoughts you can’t read, questions you need to postpone.

Because you do glance over at him, observe the distracted furrow of his brow, the distant look in his eyes. You understand he’s once again lost in unknown thoughts, and you sense how jumbled his mind must be.

But you still decide to hold off for the moment, out of respect for the ongoing conversation. You don’t focus on addressing his apparent preoccupation until it keeps going until later, way after you’ve bid Yoongi goodbye.

“Why do you seem so reserved?” you ask in the car, his home your new destination.

It must be around quarter past ten; you should still be able to meet Tae within half an hour. Yet, despite the brooding rush, you can’t help but wanna drag out the ride, finish this conversation.

“Hm?” he voices.

Did he not hear you? Maybe.

You sigh, seeking an available parking spot. You’ve already turned into his street, way past the park, halting close to his entrance. The engine dies, sudden silence inside the vehicle.

“Okay,” you turn towards him, forearm against the wheel. “You’re a lot less enthusiastic now. What’s up?”

He looks distracted. Drags his teeth over his full, pink lower lip hard enough for you to repeat, “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Uh.” Cue big boba eyes flitting to you. “I was just. Thinking about something.”

“Wanna share?”

“Yeah. Yeah, uhm. I swear I’m not trying to be mysterious, just. Not sure how to phrase it.”

He’s easing himself into this whole thing. The entire opening up act and being fearless with his feelings. So you don’t push him, but encourage, “Try. If not now, then maybe later, though?”

“No, no. Now is fine.” He frees his eyes off the dark bangs when he shakes his head a little, preparing to voice his hidden thoughts. Then, he breathes, “Yeah, so…”

One more second.

And.

“What if you dropped your plans of moving into that apartment?”

Oh. What?

Does he mean what you think he means…

There are only two options, right? And you choose to go with the one that would embarrass you less if it turned out wrong.

“Should I… do you think I should stay with my family?” you ask, your voice cautious.

But when his hands shoot up, immediately denying your assumption with round eyes, you breathe out through your nose. Relieved when he clarifies, “No, not at all. I mean, it’s up to you, but that’s not what I meant.”

So then…

“So you’re saying—”

He interrupts, rushing before he can back down, “Move in with me. And Yoongi could take the apartment you were considering.”

Fuck.

You didn’t expect your heart to jump up to your throat like that. It’s a day full of brief heart failures. You barely know how to react anymore.

You stare. Then stare a bit more. And eventually, you simply ask, “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean…” He gulps, averting your gaze all of a sudden before it lands back on yours. You chuckle quietly, unprompted, and it boosts his confidence. “You stayed at mine for days and it worked. It could… you know— keep working.”

The suggestion lingers like a fresh breeze, grazing your cheeks and twirling around you like a soothing force. He beams — though subtle, he seems to interpret the simultaneous rise of your eyebrows and your lips immediately.

Still, he inquires, “I don’t know… too soon?”

Technically yes. But then again, no. Because he’s right — you’ve already experienced a piece of heaven, tasted the bliss of domesticity with Jeon Jungkook.

“You really are serious about this, yeah?”

“Only if you want me to be,” he counters, less tense than before, but a hand rubbing in nervous circles over his knee, “if not, then I was absolutely joking.”

An awkward, little chortle fills the small space of the car; you shake your head, teeth out and smile bright. There’s sweetness in knowing that his affection is real. That the thought of shared future pains, joys and days — that it’s all actually become so unbelievably real.

The car is cool in the shadow, but you feel a strange heat coursing through your body. At the end of the street, you see the sunlight brighten the moment he laughs. Fitting.

The crinkly eye smile softens when he reaches for your hand, pulling it off the wheel and wrapping it in his. There’s an automatic reaction in your chest, a constant racing when he says, “I mean it, though.”

Brief pause. He looks down to your fingers.

“I think I got used to having you there. And then, at Yoongi’s I had this… I don’t know, overwhelming urge to tell you. That,” his teeth worry his lip, releasing it softly, “I want you next to me for as long as possible.”

You understand.

He means every minute that society and norms don’t force you out of the house. At nights and in the mornings, on off days and holidays. To fall asleep next to his presence, to wake up on the same mattress, too.

And the longing is undeniable; you know that it is. But you’re already swamped with decisions as it is — could you call off the apartment right here, right now? Rethink all you discussed with the landlord, Taehyung or yourself?

Life decisions are harder than that, and despite all the wants infiltrating your body, you can’t dive into this without a couple more following thoughts.

You keep gazing into his smouldering eyes, more intense when he looks up. Let their effect send a thrill down your spin, a surge of yearning through your veins.

And then, you acknowledge the need for prudence. You savour the moment, let the anticipation built, and flash a sultry smile to ensure that, yes, if not now, then one damn day, I’ll be yours entirely.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything to work more than this,” you admit, “but I need to—”

You halt. Words come hard to you these days; and the two of you are sensitive. It’s not easy to reunite after weeks of overthinking and distance; and you don’t want to provide more reasons to overthink.

But you forget that as sensitive as Jungkook is, he’s just as understanding and gentle, too.

Because he says, “You need to think. And I know you can’t just pack your things and move over, I just— I wanted it out there.”

“I know. I know.”

“And I,” he continues, “I actually thought you were gonna say no right away since you’re getting out of your childhood home just now, so naturally, you would wanna be alone for a while and—”

You lean forward, pulling your hands out of his grip. His eyes shoot down, baffled and confused, but you don’t give him a second to think or speak. In a moment’s notice, his cheeks are squished between your palms, his bunny face now akin to a duck.

“I don’t want to be alone. I’ve been alone all my life,” you tell him; Jungkook eyebrows furrow in empathy and worry, but you smile, “I don’t wanna be anymore.”

His expression and voice are dorky when he speaks, first words incomprehensible. You let go, watching the red splotches on his cheek, and he repeats, “Is that a yes?”

“It’s… I don’t know. A to be continued.”

“I’ll live with that.”

You don’t know if it’s the electrifying prospect of a life together or the confidence he follows his statement up with, but the insanity burns wild in your head. Untamed and dizzying.

“And I’ll wait for however long.”

“I didn’t even ask, I’m sorry… but are you starting work later today?”

You stand in the middle of Taehyung’s living room, a hand over your eyes to protect them from the bright sunlight. He’s busy piling the saucers and the cups, and you wait as he drags a vocal in thought.

“No, no. I’m off today.” He stands, and you automatically walk the short distance to the kitchen, lingering at the door frame. “Need the afternoon for an appointment at the doc. So yeah.”

“Oh. Everything okay?”

He doesn’t speak yet, dishes in the wash basin too loud. They clink and rattle; the moment you’ll move to an apartment by yourself, you’ll have to wash them yourself, too.

Maybe you can make your place as aesthetically pleasing and beige as Taehyung did. You don’t know — you couldn’t imagine much today nor discuss further details about the contract and rent and general house rules.

The landlord bailed on you last second. And Taehyung sacrificed over an hour that he could’ve spent keeping Eun company between her morning lessons.

You apologised the second you entered his apartment instead, thankful for the invitation to tea, yet harbouring guilt for wasting his time. But Taehyung proved incredibly kind, waving off your concerns immediately.

He asked, playfully offended, “So you’re saying a tea party with me is a waste of time?” And then he laughed, immediately shaking his head, “Nah. It’s fine. Am glad someone finally prefers tea over coffee, too.”

So now you’re here.

“Yeah, just a check up,” Taehyung answers, “vamps drew my blood and will tell me today if it’s good or not.”

“Interesting way to refer to doctors,” you admit, backing away when he leads you to the exit. You need to be at work in forty minutes tops. “Good then.”

He hands you your blazer, silent for a moment before he says, “Talking about feeling unwell.” You look up, arm halfway through the blazer’s sleeve. “What were you doing getting shitfaced like that?”

“Uhm…”

Word travels fast. Your cheeks heat up, fingers curling into fists. You smack your lips, letting out a tiny laugh, and ask, “Eun told you, huh?”

“Mhm. Scolded her for taking you to the bar and leaving you alone.”

You sigh.

You should’ve guessed that she’d tattle. And of course you might appear like the helpless, heartbroken girl, seeking comfort in alcohol, dark clubs and blue neon lights. It’s a little embarrassing, actually.

“Kook was there, though,” you defend.

“I know. I called when he was still at your place.”

Huh? What else did he do when you were asleep? Painted a Louvre-ripe masterpiece, probably.

Taehyung decodes the dozen questions in your stare, tumbling until his back leans against the wall. He explains, “We just talked for a sec. He sounded worried, so I didn’t prod too much. Just don’t do these things anymore, okay?”

Huh…

You can imagine it well. Partly because you remember the way he looked at you that night: distressed beyond belief, giving you soft orders, insisting on help everywhere — the car, the shower, the bed.

But also because you know him.

And you don’t think you needed to see him in those very moments to know he must’ve brushed through his silky hair. Must’ve looked through your room, gaze stopping over your sleeping figure.

Voice strained on the phone, yawning, shaking his head because he must have been a little mad at you, but comforted that you were resting, too.

You remember the tone of his voice, soft as a piano tune but saddened nonetheless.

”What did you drink? You’re… in such a bad state.”

You shake the words off. God, he was there for you more than you’ll ever know.

You say, “That’s nice, though, Tae… I didn’t think you’d ever get so worried about me.”

“Hey. You’re still my friend,” he promises.

He’s possibly been the only person throughout this entire ordeal to not be pissed at you or annoyed by you. You never doubted that he still liked you.

“I might not know you inside out like Eun or Jungkook do, but you’re part of this group. So naturally, you’re important, too.”

You push your hands into the pockets of the blazer, gripping the car keys inside. Bashfully, you smile. His sincerity pumps warmth through you; it’s crazy how good belonging somewhere, to someone, can actually feel.

It’s refreshing. New.

“Wow,” you murmur, shuffling your feet, “thank you.”

“You’re glowing, you know. That’s nice.”

“Am I?”

He nods. “I can’t wait to see him glow either. A couple weeks were a couple too long.”

Those couple weeks felt like someone ripped out the hands of time, keeping them from moving. Your brain aged faster in that time, deep in a bottomless abyss. You don’t want to experience it again.

And you don’t want to imagine Jungkook in the same pit again. Looking for you, but bumping against walls, painted with his past that made him stumble back instead of pulling him forwards.

Your eyes trail down the hallway, looking at the small paintings and decorations on the wall. You take in the furniture, inhale the pleasant colours. Imagine his living room in its entirety, the sunlight seeping through the windows. Curtains pushed aside.

Your apartment could be like this, too.

But.

“Tae,” you begin. You wrap your fingers around your rattling car key; lick your lips. “Do you think I’d like it here?”

“Hmmm,” he voices, gazing down as if he could look past the parquet floor and to where your potential apartment stands nearly empty. “Yeah. I mean, I like to think so, because I’m very happy here.”

He stops abruptly, the tone of the last syllable not matching a sentence’s end. You wait as he smiles a little, creating a thought, “But you could be happy somewhere else, too. Happier even.”

His words hang in the air, a sense of both possibility and uncertainty tangible. You were wanting to venture into this new chapter of your life with hope, but also with trepidation.

Suburban areas are nice, but you opted for the heart of the city — the vibrant tapestry of dreams and opportunities. You didn’t expect the journey to be fraught with sudden doubts.

The best thing, however, is that doubts and dilemmas never seemed this… tempting.

You tell him, “There’s always a place that makes people happier, for everyone.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice tinged with wisdom. “Only, some people already know of it, and some keep searching for it.”

“And I am—”

You pause, anticipating for him to finish the sentence; he responds, “You gotta know.” There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, support and acknowledgment hiding right behind — matching his words, “I’d be bummed if you didn’t become my neighbour, but. Also just happy you guys are happy.”

Too kind for this world.

In your endearment, you laugh, suddenly stepping forward for a brief, thankful hug. A silent gesture of gratitude for his friendship, no matter how shallow or new.

The people you surround yourself with offer endless reassurance, and you’re lacking the words to express your appreciation.

“Thank you, Tae. Eun’s right when she praises your constant respect for other people, you know?”

Taehyung, maybe a little perplexed, brings a hand to your back, patting gently as he states, “No worries. The worst is over.”

You hope so. God, you genuinely hope so.

You pull back, tucking your hair behind your ear and bid him goodbye with one last nod. Taehyung closes the door behind you with a humorous thumbs up, and you grin before it’s silent in the hallway again.

There’s a tiny window outside, overlooking the street down there and the cars flitting by. The area isn’t as peaceful as Jungkook’s — more lively and noisy. You can see the city’s river if you look far enough.

And as you step closer to the glass, you envision your own apartment again. You imagine the soft glow of the lamp before you go to sleep. The comfortable couch you want to plant in the back of the living room, curling up with work or your laptop or a cup of hot chocolate.

You picture the view of the city as you step to your open window, glancing out as the steam of your beverage swirls in the evening air. Contemplating the world outside.

But then you start rethinking Jungkook’s words, too. The idea of belonging and happiness, of domesticity and what could be.

And at last, you visualise what it’d be like if you didn’t see any of this — the lively street, the river in the distance. Wonder how you’d feel if the horizon looked different.

If you stared out and saw a different canvas instead.

The changes in your life are drastic in some way, but Jungkook always stays the same.

Your house lies quiet most of the time; as days pass, you frequent your room, then drop by in the living room, greeting the staff, grabbing dinner and retracting back to your beloved bed.

Jungkook’s apartment, baby-sized compared to your place, allows a much livelier atmosphere. Maybe because you don’t need to yell for him to hear you from another room. Or maybe because it’s just the two of you.

Perhaps even because you find solace in the couch, in the smaller smart TV in front of it, the glass table, the carpet, the homely furniture in general. The scent reminds you of wood, but you connect it with him, too.

It’s different from the room you grew up in. Different from the luxurious chimney and marble you’ve seen all your life. And you must admit that you enjoy it a lot more, too.

One of the few reasons why your mood changes from exhausted to merry the moment you knock at his door on Thursday. He was expecting you, because when he opens, he beckons you inside immediately, pulling you in and planting a generous kiss on your cheek.

A smooching sound accompanies it, his foot closing the door as he suggests, “Dinner first or TV?”

“Shoes.” You laugh. You slip out of your thin jacket before tackling your snickers quickly, your clothes suddenly itchy and uncomfortable. “Shoes first, and then shower? Can I?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It’s not the first time that you’d be doing it. But there’s still something new and pure about this new chapter of your life; one that comes with polite questions and reinventing reality, apparently.

Redrafting life as you knew it and striving towards something better.

“I knew it, actually,” he says, forefinger wiggling, “I put a fresh towel on the washing machine. Also had a handful of your shirts here, so there’s one of those on the towel, too. And my joggers… Sorry, you left none of those, uhm—”

He’s started walking ahead, scratching behind his ear, but when he notices you not following, he looks over his shoulder. Blinks at you, staring into his living room and back, innocent voice unsure, “Come?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just— you didn’t have t—”

“I know,” he interrupts, breathing a sigh in faux frustration, “I know I never have to. But I figured you’d wanna shower.”

“…Thank you, Kook.”

You wish you could say more; express your gratitude the way you want to. At least your body is jubilating, craving the hot steam of the shower. Starving further for some peace when you step into the bathroom and detect the neatly placed clothing.

Jungkook halts at the door, gripping its frame, a little shy as if you didn’t breathe each other in for the last couple of weeks and months. He’s looking at you, waiting for something, and when you raise an eyebrow in curiosity, he snaps out of whatever daydream he was in.

“Oh. Right,” he mumbles, cheeks flushed, “sorry. I’ll leave. Can heat up the food. Or, or do you wanna order in?”

“Anything’s fine.” He nods. Opts to walk away, big hand flattening his hair at the back. It takes a moment for your heart to riot as you watch him leave, immediately babbling, “Actually. I was—”

Returning within a moment, he looks alarmed. Less so when you point a thumb to the shower and suggest, “Do you wanna join?”

“You in the shower?”

No, doofus. Join to watch the washing machine unsoil your sweaty clothes.

You clear your throat. “Yeah?”

“I uhm… Is that okay?”

Goddamn. Redrafting life as you knew it, you said.

You just didn’t expect the two of you to still tip-toe around each other. Seems you still have a lot of adjusting to do.

You try to break the ice.

“Acting like I’ve never seen you naked.”

“No, I know,” he responds, “I was just thinking that you…”

You can’t quite decrypt what he’s trying to say, but you do perceive the flash of concern in his eyes. It’s a tiny glimpse, barely there; but you see it. And you think about it.

Try to understand, let moments pass — until you’ve grasped his thinking.

The night he helped you clean up was the last time you stood under a showerhead together; maybe he thinks you’re still connecting it to the night’s trauma or borderline dangerous intoxication. And perhaps you’re wrong.

But you still take a breath, and then segue, “Already took a shower, didn’t you?”

You know he did. He’s addicted to cleanliness, sensitive to scents; he hoards diffusers, skin care products and new underwear like a treasure. And showering is always the first thing he goes for, a beeline to the bathroom after work out sessions and intense summer days.

You follow up with, “It’s okay, if you did. I’ll just go alone and hurry to dinner, then?”

“No, no… No, it’s fine.” He starts his sentence fast, but slows down halfway through, awkwardly. “Of course I can join. What’s some extra refreshment, right?”

“That’s the reason, huh?” you mock, laughing when he shrugs his shoulder. “Keep acting like you’re not the biggest simp around.”

Your confidence boosts his own, too. The signature smile is soft, lips curved gorgeously, but the subtone of his words is teasing, and even a little cocky.

“Of course. I know, I know.”

“Come then.”

You offer a stretched hand, curling your fingers in and outwards, and he places his warm palm into it like a key to a lock. Albeit tense and nervous, your body feels good next to his. The telltale awkward signs of a new relationship don’t deter you from indulging in its sweetness.

So you’re not surprised at how quickly you undress, throwing each other’s clothes at the back of the washing machine and planting kisses whenever one of you bares their shoulder. Eyeing each other from bottom to top.

You think you ogle for a moment too long, though — and how could you not with the freaking silver chain dangling from his neck?

An exciting evening lies ahead, you can already tell.

It’s fresher now outside, and all of Jungkook’s windows are open. Despite the cosiness of the bathroom, you rush under the hot shower stream.

Only, it’s not as boiling as you’d like it to be. Jungkook starts and finishes his showers ice cold, so you screech when you meet water from the Antarctic. You jump on your spot, arms around your torso.

And when you allow yourself one single glance at him amidst the breathlessness, you notice that the asshole is doing it on purpose. Same old. Rouses core memories.

Jungkook wipes over your hair and your face, drenching them thoroughly. You only realise he’s smudged your mascara when he starts rubbing underneath your eyes gently, managing to get some of it off.

“Fuck,” you curse, “I forgot about that. Should I take it off first?”

The intention is to slip out, use one of his cleansing skin products and get the mess out of your face before stepping back to him. But you don’t make it far anyway; he yanks you back before your foot can even touch the mat.

And then, the moment passes in a blur.

Tense body back against his, he tugs you close. Holds both your wrists in front of your breasts, leaning in without a warning, and then — connects his dripping lips with yours.

If there was any space to gasp, you would. Instead, your fingers instantly dig into your hand, sharp nails scarring the skin. You move your fists, trying to touch him, but he holds you in place firmly.

That is, until his digits relax, trailing up your shoulder to your neck, jaw and then to your cheeks. Face in your grip, you let him control the pace. You find an anchor in his bicep, holding on; kissing isn’t enough.

You wish he could eat you up. Wish the tongue finally touching yours, swirling around it, was everywhere on your skin at once.

You feel a slight twitch underneath, right against your body; ready to devour, hopefully soon to explode. But Jungkook gasps for air when his lungs give out, allowing a break, backing away with your face still between his hands.

And then, he utters something surprising — something you didn’t expect in the heat of the moment at all.

“I was meaning to tell you something.”

“…Oh?”

“I’m uh. I’ve been meaning to tell you for days. I just never quite got around to it and we were so busy and tired all the time and—”

“What is it?” you break in, heart pounding at an unnatural speed. “I’m here now, so…?”

For a second, you expect this to take a whole different turn.

The database in your brain empties the moment you scour it for an answer, preparing yourself for molten knees and dissolving hearts. Or maybe, it’s already clarifying to liquid, jumping out of your chest and flowing down the drain along with the water.

But he doesn’t say what you anticipate. Though, what he does admit has your nerves glowing neon white anyway.

“So— the first night of my showcase. On my birthday?” he starts. You feel the muscles of your face change, and he sees it, immediately assuring, “No, no. Don’t worry. I was just gonna say that a guy came to me by the end of it? And—”

He lets all of it sound like an unsure question. But you think you know where it’s going — you hold your breath under the already suffocating water.

“And?” you prod.

“And turned out Namjoon invited him, and he’s kiiiinda a big shot in the art business? Like, he’s a gallery collector, he said. He’d invest in my art and acquire it and have it showcased in bigger museums for more recogni— I know!”

Your mouth and eyes opened halfway through his quick explanation, fingers back in fists, pressing against his solid chest and then moving up to hook in his silver chain. You’re restless in the congested space, suppressing the high pitched sounds.

He puts his hands on your hips, snickering in joy as he says, “Be careful before you slip.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Thankfully I’m not, angel,” he shakes his head, bangs sticking to his forehead, “not this time, at least.”

You raise a hand to his pec, tapping against it, “Wait. So just so I understood correctly — they’re gonna put up your stuff there for an even bigger audience to see, yeah?”

“I mean, the gallery is definitely far bigger than the exhibition I participated in.”

“Oh my god, Jungkook, the exhibition already had a shit ton of visitors!”

He nods, proving a point.

You feel an electric current in your blood. Pride, that’s what it’s called, too. You sling your arms around his neck recklessly, nearly falling, but you can’t be bothered as you exclaim, “This is so— I don’t even know how to react, Kook!”

And who could convince a big-shot art connoisseur so quickly after graduation anyway? Jungkook’s god given talents are never praised for nothing — you knew it. Fucking knew it.

Won’t make it anywhere, your ass.

“That’s so fucking awesome.” You stare, out of breath all of a sudden. God, if there was a way to express your delight. “When is it happening? Are you selling the one you showcased?”

“I don’t know yet. And no. That’s too… personal to me.” You blink, nodding. Still overwhelmed with how his pieces made you feel — of course they’d hit even harder for the artist himself. “He wants something in a similar style, though. I’ll make something new for him.”

“What’s it gonna be?”

It’s a simple question. You swear it’s nothing too deep.

But Jungkook’s gaze changes. An amused, delighted expression replaces a neutral one, head tilting to the side just a little. His lips, already slightly swollen from the kiss, move up, eyes kind and sugary.

If you only knew how your small details affect him, too. How you looking at him like this, expectant eyes split wide, innocent and gentle, shoots an arrow to his heart.

You just don’t know.

He brushes the hair sticking to your cheek back and tells you, “You’ll see. I’ve been working on it these days, but. Will show it to you when it’s done.”

You can’t even be mad. If it was up to you, you’d probably wait for the big day, too — can’t spoil the surprise, need to cry tears of pride and joy in public.

So all you say, deep from the heart, is, “You’re the fucking coolest person I know.”

“Nah—”

“The coolest.”

“Funny,” he retorts, as bad at compliments as you; throws them back like a boomerang, “thought the same when I met you at the party last year.”

“…Gross.” That’s what you say. But you still shake your head; overwhelmed, smile plastered to your face and cheeks hurting. “God, Kook.”

And that’s all.

You keep holding his stare, finally too tired of the distance to endure any longer — and then lean in. You stop a couple inches away, watch his head angle more, mouth steering towards yours. The smile is mutual, fingers seeking a spot to settle on on each other’s bodies.

Your heart monitor would be wilding right now — the effect of your lips meeting clear as day behind your ribs. And this time, you don’t stop.

The push against his chest is immediate, his feet slowly tumbling backwards. His tongue burns hot against yours, your lower lip fitting perfectly in the gap between his lips. There’s a sharp hiss when his back finally touches the tiles, mouth open but not leaving yours.

Teeth soon clash, and you opt for more of his taste, well aware that you just cannot kiss more than you already are. His hands move up and down, never settling, both your lips harsh and impatient. Your tongues keep moving in patterns, thirst never quenched.

You break the kiss solely for oxygen purposes, but he uses the moment to let his palm wander from your face to your hair, grabbing a patch. One hand pushes against the small of your back, though soon dropping to your ass, fingers between your ass cheeks, teasing the clenching hole.

Fuck.

The moan isn’t intended, but very welcome — you love the sound of it as much as he does, followed by his own. An automatic reaction. His hips indulge in the tiniest movements, length jerking against your body; no more than an inch of his fingertip pushing into your ass.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you breathe, eyebrows furrowing, mewling against the corner of his lips. “More, now, please.”

It’s an attempt. Of course he won’t act that fast — you know him well enough. He’s been a soft gentleman often enough; but after holding back the past few days, missing it for weeks, you know it won't be easy on him either.

One of you will be on the brink of tears soon; until now, it’s usually been you.

You take a deep breath, agitated when he laughs. He retracts his hand, smoothing back his chaotic mane before leaning in for another peck. And that’s all it remains — interrupted immediately, saliva mixing with the shower water.

“I’m so fucking crazy for you,” he confesses; the shiver doesn’t hesitate crawling down your spine — neither does Jungkook, peppering your neck with kisses.

His actions are smooth — you let him do anything. Like, explore every little spot of your skin. From the softness of your face, down to the flesh of your ass, echoing hard when a flat hand slaps it out of nowhere.

You propel forwards, barely aware of your surroundings. The shower raining onto you is the only indicator of where you still are.

So when he turns you carefully, 180 until your back touches the tiles, you don’t realise his intentions for a moment. Only when he changes his approach, digging your shoulders hard into the wall, knocking you out of breath.

“Are you trying to—” you ask, but he interjects right away.

“Don’t question it this time, okay?” His face inches close again, teeth suddenly pulling and nibbling at your lip. “Just let us do. Lemme do, yeah?”

His chest presses against your tits before he backs away and palms your mounds, squeezing nearly painfully.

For only a heartbeat, though — he doesn’t stall further. Because another second passes before you’re turned in his grip, chest not touching his anymore, but the wall now. From behind you, he grasps your hips, dragging you back just a couple inches; enough to sneak his hand through.

“But whenever things get too much, you…”

You nod. Promise, “Will tell you. I will.”

“Good.” His cock pokes between your ass, and he spreads its cheeks. Lets the hardness rest between them, sliding up and down. “Gonna make you feel so good, though. Wanna make you feel so fucking good.”

Wow… wow, f—

Not that you were ever interested in it before, but…

Part of you wants him to shove it in anywhere. Wherever the fuck he wants. You’d endure all hour-long foreplay and pleas and tears for him.

And perhaps he’s thinking the same. Perhaps you even spoke it out loud — you wouldn’t be surprised if you did. But you choke on your spit when he says, “Missing the sex toys. Like… What do you think of new ones, hm? Someday, maybe. Like— like an anal pl—”

“Please,” you beg, “I’ll do fucking anything for you.”

Break in conversation. Then, “Holy shit.” He chuckles. Fuck — his voice is deeper now, isn’t it? “You’re being whiny. I thought you’re a badass business woman, but you’re so whiny.”

“Because— I can breathe when I work.”

“Ohh. And now,” he whispers, close to your ear, hand moving. Up and further up, stopping around your throat, as if he’s testing your statement. As if he could tell him anything about the state of your lungs. “Now we’re not as focused, right?”

“No thinking when I suck your dick.”

“Dammit. Really don’t wanna wait to fuck you numb.”

You’re shamelessly jittery, patience out the window. “Don’t then. Get to it now.”

“Nope. I know you’re not ready yet. And I’m not either… so—”

He steps closer, forcing your body further forward until your cheek is squished against the wall. His fingers leave your throat to find another target; something far more south, a lot more dangerous.

One small circle drawn around your clit, you gasp, hearing him ask, “You think you can come with just my fingers?”

“I don’t know. I honestly think I need—”

He chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh, too. You’re hilarious sometimes.

“You think you’re so smart. But we can still try, though.” He says it casually, as if the two of you don’t exactly know that he’s perfectly capable of pulling through. But his voice still softens when you don’t answer, “Hey. You wanna try, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Anything,” you convince him, “anything, Kook.”

“Good girl. The best, always.”

His touch vanishes. You let out a mildly confused sound, observing with an unfocused vision how he opens the shower door a little. He reaches for the towel on the washing machine, drying his fingers, other hand moving the shower head until it’s mostly wetting his own back.

It’s a tiny detail, really. You only told him once how action around the clit might become uncomfortable with hands priorly washed or wet, and it seems he remembered.

Your eyes shut when he returns to your bundle of nerves, massaging gently, skilled. It starts slow at first; you feel the hot wetness build in and around your entrance, the line between the shower water and your arousal fading.

Jungkook’s movements, calculated and systematic, only spur your body on. He’s always known what he’s doing; has analysed and explored what you want. How you want it.

It’s true heaven to you: the way he kisses your cheek. The way he draws moans out of you, the motions around your swollen bud rhythmic. Your back and limbs tingle; you don’t know what to do with yourself.

And when you can’t stand still anymore, Jungkook orders, “Stop that. You’ll break my jaw.”

“Sorry.”

Your apology is timid, tiny; he laughs. “You cutie… you’re adorable even in moments like these.”

You throw your head against his shoulder as if to oppose him, opening your eyes, looking straight into his eyes. Your eyebrows are kissing, tension between them, mouth agape.

And he adds, “Or maybe not.”

He lifts you up a bit, dragging your body along the wall — you didn’t even notice that you slid down this much, angled, ass darting out like this. But you also don’t mind the arm that rounds your torso, just underneath your tits, keeping you steady when he takes it up a notch and—

“Oh my god,” you squeak when he pushes two fingers in. “Yes, yes, please—”

The incoherent, random requests are his favourite. Most of the time, he knows better than you what you’re pleading for. Which is why he doesn’t stop this time; probably more in the mood to please you than tease you.

From this position, he can’t reach knuckles deep, but just enough to brush the walnutty spot inside. And to your surprise, the orgasm builds up fast; the first quiver takes over your knees, but you understand that this is nothing compared to what’s to come.

You press your hands to the wall, holding onto remnants of your sanity when he kisses your neck, and along your damp shoulders. His mouth is hot against your pulse, wet hair tickling under your jaw. He bites lightly; soothes the fleeting sting with his tongue. Vampiristic.

Like a sensual massage, well thought out, pornographic.

And then he picks up on pace. Whispers, “That’s right— we got this—”

He starts pumping into you; relishes your incomprehensible curses. The thumb over your clit and the impatience of his fingers inside are a dichotomy, and you don’t know what to focus on. Which is why you stop thinking altogether.

Jungkook takes a sharp breath, quiet whistling sounds included, and then groans into your ear when you do. He keeps his motions up diligently, fingers a bit deeper with each time your ass moves back an inch.

As an aid, he shifts his arm, too, pushing forward, palm pressing against your clit now.

And when you come, you melt. Nearly collapsing, you keep moving, on edge, every spot of your body in tremor. You can barely breathe; you’ve been nestled in the heat of the shower for way too long.

He notices your tremble in an instant, encourages, “Got it. Got you. Keep going, baby, c’mon.”

The peak is blissful; you don’t want to ever fall off the edge again. Want to remain in this starry, gorgeous ache. Your eyes could stay in the back of your head; the world may keep fading. And you don’t need to know where you are.

All you know is that your voice sounds odd, high when you pant, “Don’t go away yet.”

“I’m right here. Right here, got you,” he repeats, holding you upright.

Jungkook knows — knows how to get you from lowest lows to your highest highs. Today was as pleasant as a day at work can be; but if he’s ready to do all this to you on any other, worse day, too, you might never encounter grief again.

He scatters kisses all over your jaw when you’re done — busies himself as you catch your breath, swallowing, eyes closed. Once you’ve caught yourself enough to utter fragments of sentences at least, you tell him, “Something not human about you, Jeon.”

“Oh. Are we back to surnames now?” He cackles, soothing motions along your arms. “Are we gonna shake hands, too, once we’re done? Bow and say thank you?”

You shake your head, though the stupid smile doesn’t wait to spread on your face.

“You’re dumb,” you say.

“You make me dumb.”

He drops his touch, brushing your pussy again — maybe as a test. But you’re sensitive and vulnerable, closing your legs and opening your mouth in response. He’s sly; uses the moment to push two fingers in right away, pressing your tongue down.

And you, as challenge-accepting as ever, start sucking, tasting some of yourself. You wrap your hand around his, moving your head, chest still heaving from the exhaustion. Your eyes close slowly enough for him to see them roll back, a reaction to the images your brain creates.

Like, the thought of the member currently poking you replacing those digits. The prospect of emptying him entirely.

“Fuuuuck— wish my brain could take a picture of this and save it forever,” he says, voice strained.

You open your mouth, licking a strip along his finger, past the tattoo. “What’d you do with it?”

“Would… would bring it to the forefront of my mind,” Jungkook begins, reclaiming his hand and dragging it down to your waist, “and use it whenever you’re away.”

“Hmmm… and then?”

“Would just…”

He doesn’t continue. Only shakes his head, lifting his shoulders, stance desperate and wanting; maybe he’s even a little out of his mind.

You egg him on, “Show me if you can’t say it.”

It’s a surprise that he obliges, but then again, it’s not. You always forget just how weak he is — that his heart sits right there in your palms, his body a magnet to yours.

So you’re endlessly pleased when your eyes flit down to a hand around his dick. Stroking slowly, its head hard against your pelvis. And you manage to watch a tiny second longer until the floor beckons you towards it, down to your knees.

It’s uncomfortable immediately; slick and odd. But you’re distracted by your dry tongue, thirsting, ridiculously hypnotised by the cock dangling in front of you. And then his thighs… muscular and thick. You reach out to them, holding them, steering forwards.

Despite his delicate frailty, you don’t fare any better. Ready to bruise your knees like an obedient doll, eyes wide when you look up at him. You grip him softly, urging him to remove his hand, stroking in his stead.

You pass all pleasantries and hesitations, and dive in immediately — leading your mouth to the tip before wrapping your lips around it delicately. Determined, you let only a second pass, eager as you start moving right away.

Bobbing your head, you take him in as much as your gag reflex allows. He’s too big — it’s impossible to ever swallow him fully. But no matter how greedy you are, that’s it.

You don’t give into it all the way just yet.

Instead, you back away after another lick. Straighten your body, drawing in and repositioning until you can push your tits together around the stiffness.

His groan tumbles out of him broken, choked, a hand against the wall. His abs are rippling, bicep bulged, nipples tiny and perked. Dark brown. Eyes hazy.

You want to do so many fucking things to him — want to mount him. Pull his head back by his long strands. Want, need to kiss him, rub yourself on him, back and forth along his cock until his moans become uncontrolled. Sticky white cum sprayed over his tummy.

Your nails in your skin, yearning for more — that’s one of your billion thoughts.

Instead, you summarise your wants, whispering a single, simple, fucked out, “I…” You gulp down the knot. Shiver at your position, craving the hot water a little now. Then command, “Fuck my mouth.”

His eyes threaten to fall out of his head; like they always do. He knows it’s a constant reaction, too, it seems, because, “God. I’ll never get used to you saying this.”

“You better, though.”

“Right. Right…”

He caresses your face, pushes your hair back. Perhaps he’s had enough of the pace; because he soon reaches for your arms, compliant deer kicked out of his head as he forces your wrists up and crosses them against the wall.

One hand is all he needs to hold them in their place. One hand gripping them hard, disabling any movement of your arms.

You let out a strange, obscene sound, finding utter liking in this gesture.

But despite your pleasure, he still eases you into the process, the heart tattoo grazing your cheek. A touch so soft that you think he’s praising you, wordlessly and gently. Making sure you’re absolutely okay with whatever he does to you.

And you confirm it with another blink, stretching out your tongue, ready. Holding his gaze. Mesmerised and frustrated, he says, “You’ll kill me with the way you look at me.”

Jungkook fuels your confidence with vigour each time, eloquent through scorching heat, too. Because you don’t think you’ve ever smiled this self-assured before you knew him; or been certain about your power over others.

You used to be far more insecure than that, feigning ignorance and carelessness, but reevaluating your decisions every step of the way. Months ago, you could’ve never predicted such a shift in conviction towards yourself.

So it’s new to you, but invigorating at the same time, the grin you sport, the words you utter, “Killing you isn’t my intention,” when he doesn’t, you move your head towards the leaking head of his cock, awaiting destruction, “wanna make you feel more alive than ever.”

The breath tumbling out of his mouth is ragged, pinky finger twitching a tiny bit when you wrap your lips around the tip and then let it go with a plop again; like it’s a lollipop to you.

Your knees move closer to his feet, and he stretches his one hand to your shoulder, making sure you don’t get hurt on the slippery ground. But you’re far too distracted to appreciate the gesture just yet, even though you feel the faint tickling along your limbs.

“I got it,” Jungkook then says, back in charge, hands back on the protruding, thick veins.

He moves his hips forward, testing. You roll out your tongue once more, closing your eyes. Try to make more room in your mouth, despite knowing it’s a thing of impossibility. And to your chagrin, it takes only a few more seconds for you to be full already.

Taking in as much as your throat allows, you gag when you reach your limit, letting out a tiny cough, salivating. You still can’t move your arms; his fingers are like chains around your wrists.

“That enough?” he asks. “I’ll stop here, okay?”

You nod. Wait. When he doesn’t move, you start pulling back, and then push forward again immediately. Your tongue is drenched in absolute filth; the spit trails down your chin, and you wish it was his.

But that’s not the point of it all — you’re not supposed to comfortably bop your head back and forth, are you? Despite the daily softness between the two of you, you want to be used. Want all his greed.

And he knows. Asks, “What do you need?”

Of course you can’t speak. He’s aware of that; stares down at you as you breathe heavily around him, mouth stuffed to the brim. Cheeks aching from the circumference.

You moan around him, parting your lips, moving your tongue from under his dick to swirl it around it a little. You move back, tasting the liquid minimally dripping out of his slit. Fuck, you want all of it, in thick, sickening ropes, in loads and buckets.

“Won’t even back away to speak,” he teases, words contradictory, because he won’t allow you to take a break either. Shoves himself inside again; you’re embarrassed that you only manage half of his length. “The dedication is hotter than it should be—”

Full, coherent sentences. How?

But even his string of thought breaks when he starts in earnest. Filling up your mouth once more, as much as he can and then a bit more for good measure. You adjust to his movements, suck down immediately.

You don’t care about the loss of voice later; you want to eat him up entirely.

His strokes grow harder by the second, rock hard inside you. You move your head until the head pokes against the inside of your cheek, and the tight wetness affects him, his knees buckling by one single inch.

“Easy…” he whispers, shaking his head, water drops landing on your face. “Fuck. Wanna have you hanging off the bed one day. Wanna see my cock ram your throat…”

Easy, he said. He’s definitely not being easy on you, though. Not with these admissions. Not with his motions.

The thrusts aren’t just hard, but deliberate and controlled, too. Your head keeps pushing back, lightly touching the wall. You’re far over sucking his dick, way too obedient and submissive to define it like that.

No, you’re being fucked. Gagging and choking around him, sucking in the spit whenever only his tip remains inside, sounds lewd and specific. Coming from the back of your throat, wet, hot and bothered.

God, you wish you were strong enough to take him all the way down to the base, licking at his balls, feeling his twitching dick thumping at the very far back. But you guess this is more than enough for him, too.

Because he holds your wrists harder, a rope around them, digging into your skin. The free hand wipes your hair away again, your body sweat-soaked while the shower water still trickles down his back.

He holds you there; then reaches for your nipple; pinches it hard over your heavily heaving chest, pleased when you open your eyes and look up at him. Waterline damp — the dangling chain might just be one of the reasons for that.

“Bit more,” he mumbles, and you think he’ll surrender right there, inside your mouth.

Which is why you sit up straighter, more determined, licking at the underside of his cock when he drags it out a little. His balls hang in your face and you reach for them, tongueing, hungry, not wanting him to move away now.

He doesn’t. Not yet. Relief courses through you, swallowing around his thickness again. Rolling your eyes back, hearing subtle “Doing well, so well, angel”s, ignoring the pain in your arms as he holds them upright.

You hollow your cheeks when he buries himself in deep, struggling when he stops right there. He doesn’t move; your eyes well up harder. All air enters and escapes through your nose, and you’re shaking, holding his stare as he keeps his cock in place, absolutely still.

That is, until you can barely breathe anymore, nails digging into your palms, arms trying to escape. He doesn’t say a word yet, only lets your hands drop. Your shoulders crack a bit, and you shake your arms, filling up your lungs, your palms next to his feet.

His cock is covered in your spit when you look again; your gaping mouth and chin similarly drenched.

And only when your head stops spinning, does he hold his hands towards you, urging you to take them as he says, “Sorry, baby. You did so well, I…”

You grip his fingers feebly, getting up on weak knees. Instead of holding onto your hands, he soon wraps an arm around your body, pulling you up before he asks, “Less next time?”

“No,” the word comes out as a squeak, throat already affected, “I’ll always tap if I feel it’s too much. I promi— promise.”

“Good,” he praises, a kiss to your damp forehead. He turns the water off. “That’s all I want, baby. Look at me.”

You’re already exhausted, staring down, fatigue fuelled by the hot water. Your eyes flutter open as you meet his gaze, and he puts a hand to your cheek, thumb on your swollen lower lip.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he compliments; his hand must be heating up under your touch, “did you know? So sweet and stunning. It makes me sick.”

“Thought I was the only one. You…” He looks at you, and you hold him tight, smiling about your joke in advance. “You have such an effect on me, it makes me wanna throw up.”

Right. So in love, it makes your stomach turn.

“Please don’t,” he pleads, conjuring a tender eye smile. The wide grin is unreal. “And let’s get out of here. We can’t keep standing here.”

“Waste of water.”

“Yes, waste of water. That, too. And I should have some lube in the bedroom.”

Of course he’s as impatient as you — although you’re almost a hundred percent sure you could do without that stuff easily. The insides of your thighs are slippery, and you’re certain the shower wasn’t the sole reason for that.

Your legs feel weird, your body heavy when you finally get out. The cosy bathroom is filled with steam and heat, but at least you can breathe easier here than under the piping hot water.

The mirror is fogged up; you glance into it to check your state, but recognise nothing but your vague form. You wipe a stripe the size of your hand along it as you walk past, halting at the door. And when you look back, Jungkook is making quick, brief work on picking up the clothes you haphazardly threw to the side before.

“You don’t wanna do this later?” you ask, still fond.

It’s just him cleaning up the floor, but… you enjoy watching him do mundane things. You might never be able to explain why, but you do.

“Just throwing them into the washing machine. Will turn it on later,” he answers.

He straightens his body with a sigh when he’s done, sniffling as he usually does. His eyes are hidden behind his long hair, so he lifts both his hands to brush the soaked tresses back. The muscles of his arms are mountainous and firm. Tattoos ending at his shoulder.

He’s indescribably pretty like that. Looking up, lips parted, jaw chiselled.

You observe him for a bit longer, gaze trailing down his body. Small nipples, broad and sculpted pecs, six painfully visible rectangles of abs. Cock still mostly awake.

Fuck.

Crossing your legs, you bite your lips, one hand on the door handle. You take in the domesticity. The moment might be subtle and casual, but something about it is incredibly homely.

How you speak to each other, and how his washing machine is cleaning both your clothes. It’s the little things, isn’t it?

Your eyes are fond when you say, “Whenever it does happen… I can already imagine all of it clearly.”

“Hm?” He blinks at you. “All of what, baby?”

“Of being here with you. All the time.” His motions stop. He drops his arms, a strand falling back into his face, but he doesn’t care. Glances at you for a couple seconds until you smile and nod towards the door. “Let’s go.”

But it seems he changed his mind in this split second that you turn to the exit.

Because all of a sudden, just as he did before, he tugs you back. And just like before, you land against the wall, having him staring at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time. His voice is a whisper, enchanting, “Okay… you know what. Forget it.”

“Huh?”

“Fuck lube, okay?” His eyes are glued to your lips. Then to your pupils. He looks lost. “We can manage. Don’t need the bedroom… just you. Want you right now.”

“Jungko—”

You don’t anticipate it — so it draws a small moan out of you when his fingers suddenly graze between your legs, digging in for just a moment. Fingering you for a split second as you gasp — and then they disappear again.

He moves in to kiss your cheek. Just a peck first. Then his lips open against your neck, hand moving up your body and pushing your tit up. His tongue soon joins the fun, darting through his parted lips, sucking your tits hard. Biting, groaning, moaning.

“Jungkook.” You push your touch through his hair as he kisses his way further down, nibbling at your sides, and you whine, “Don’t wanna wait, Kook…”

His eyes are closed and his voice hushed, raspy and deep as he says between kisses, “I’ll be gone for a moment, baby. You’ll barely notice, I promise.”

Strange how he means distanced from your kiss, not from your body. Strange how you miss each other while in the same room, but not melted into each other.

You’re losing your mind. Throwing your head back, ruining your hair against the tiles. Eyes droopy and hazy, mind turning in various directions as you relish each touch and peck. Your body relaxes; all the weight of the world off your shoulders.

Jungkook fondles your body, caresses all of you, planting kisses on your tummy, your waist, your pelvis. Continues to tug at the flesh of your thighs with his lips. It feels like a massage, not painful but gentle. Careful as he hoists up one of your legs, throwing it over his shoulder.

And then… he starts.

His tongue flashes out to your clit. Parts your folds. It’s difficult from this position, but his pointy wet muscle paints patterns over your pussy. And you reel.

Jungkook truly is an artist. Knows to make you mewl, turns your breaths laboured. You move your hips, guiding his face closer with your hand in his hair, slowly riding it. The French kisses, the brush against your thighs… he’s…

God.

“God,” you echo, “I love this, I—”

He’s feasting. Letting out alluring sounds, spurring you on, and you almost topple over the edge. But Jungkook knows what he’s doing — leaves you yearning, moving away and up to you.

When he said he’d be gone for a moment, he truly meant it.

Your lip quivers when he looks at you, ordering a soft, “You’ll come together with me.” He raises your chin. “Okay? You and I together. Always.”

Must be a hidden message. He’s not just talking about sex anymore, is he? But him and you in one bubble, separated from the world. Nothing but you, you and you.

You barely wait another second. Instead, you immediately lurch forwards, initiating a kiss beyond sinful from the start. Teeth clashing, tongues feral. For a couple seconds you breathe into each other, letting out odd noises, his hand pulling your leg back up again and pinning it against the wall.

You’re on your tippy toes when his cock teases your entrance, his lips soon on your shoulder again. Cold chain brushing your skin. He’s sucking harshly, guiding his dick inside with determination. Sheer impatience is palpable in his touch and audible in his sounds.

The head of his dick parts your folds, diving in; and you let out a moan so lustful that he grows downright desperate against your shoulder. Standing here like this is hard, too; so he puts his palms on your ass, commands—

“Jump once.”

“What?”

“Jump,” he repeats, “I’ll hold you. Want you, please.”

“Okay…” you mumble. You put your hands on his broad shoulder, readying yourself, “Okay.”

And then you do — immediately wrapping your legs around him. And he lets you fall slowly, body pressed against yours, so you’re sandwiched between him and the wall; so he can guide his hardness back to your cunt.

You drop onto it slowly, carefully. Impaling yourself on him, inch by inch penetrating your insides. The more you take in, the deeper the crease between your eyebrows. And when he’s bottomed out, you feel like… yourself again?

Because what moment is more intimate than this? What moment allows you to crawl out of your shell more than this?

Even if in a crude sense, this is yet another definition of home. And every definition can be traced back to him.

“You feeling alright?” he asks, and you nod immediately.

“Is a bit weird, but…” you hold onto him, one hand moving to his face. You don’t finish your sentence; only nod, exhaling against his lips.

“Can I start?”

Another nod; and then he starts pumping in. Slowly in and out; you’re firmly in place against the wall, slipping just a little. His hands engulf your ass again — his strength is mind-numbing, and his sounds loud as he splits you in two.

Your eyes shut for a mini moment, and when they crack open again, they’re met with the still mirror. It’s fogging up again, yet still clear enough to make out Jungkook’s back; the form of his body. Your thoughts tangle up.

You’ve seen him shirtless a million times before, fully bare — but it might be the first time you’re enjoying this very perspective. And the entirety of him… leaves you gasping. Butt naked, ass muscles flexing, the triangle shaped back smooth. Where do his guts even fit?

They’re a blessing, those reflections, catching the way he’s standing, ramming into you. And then you, burying your nails into his shoulder blades, expression fucked out, body moving up and down the wall. Having things done to you by him.

You’re so fucking lucky.

You mutter, “Kook…”

“Yes, baby.”

“You look so good… so…”

“Mmmh, you do, too,” the sentence starts in a clear tone, but morphs into a whisper, “just… can’t see enough of you… shit, babe—”

He leans in, parting your lips with his, your tongues touching as he delivers a rough jab just once. And that’s when things stop working for you.

Because soon enough, you’re swaying to the side, nearly falling; as his protective instincts kick in, immediately holding you, his cock jumps out. And he shakes his head, pecking your temple once, and then deducts, “Okay. This won’t do.”

“Hmmm,” you hum in agreement, weak on your legs, “bad idea for sure.”

“Hold up.”

He’s quick to turn you around, thoroughly in charge of your body tonight — you’re fully under his mercy. Ready to kneel and bend for him. And Jungkook, understanding your boundaries, gives you all you need — knows what to do, knows when to stop.

And you keep handing over control; more so when he pushes you over the sink, stating, “Okay. Looks easier.” A pause. “Looks so much fucking better, too.”

Wish you could see. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re tense.

He leans down to kiss your back. His dick pokes between your ass cheeks again, slipping down and further down until it makes itself home between your nether lips again.

It falls into it in one fell swoop, swiftly, as if it’s no effort at all — guess it never is.

And god, does the position feel heavenly.

Balls deep inside; the first angle that allows full unhinged, animalistic mode.

But he still starts out slow; with long strokes and a hand in your hair. You tumble backwards a little, urging him to move too, lifting your ass higher and pushing your legs together for maximal effect.

Allowing more tightness for him; more friction for you.

“I… missed fucking you so much,” he says between thrusts. “You feel unreal.”

You guess you do. He does, too. Maybe the two of you need a reminder that this is all too real; perhaps a tantalising equivalent to a wake-up-pinch.

So you suggest, “Fuck me harder, Kook.”

“Hmm… want that?”

“Been waiting so fucking long.”

And while a lover of patience and anticipation — who is he to reject your wishes after the entire ordeal occurring in this room? The two of you have dragged out this moment plenty.

So he listens fast; soon using your neck as leverage as his inked fingers wrap it smoothly. Agreeing, “It’d be my literal pleasure, babe.”

God, he’s a dumbass — but you can’t physically react. Too caught up in something else; storing the laughter and jokes for later.

Because he picks up on pace, not too much right away; but enough for his hips to slap against your ass. Enough for you to be catapulted forwards with a whine, cheek pressing to the glass.

You lift your hand, accidentally wiping again, but only manage a trail, hand sliding down. From behind, you hear a hoarse praise, “Looks so fucking hot,” he draws a sharp breath, nearly hissing, “I promise I’ll be careful, just…”

He pulls at your hair. Shoves his cock inside rougher, face closer to you, lips to your cheek. Swallows hard enough for you to hear, and then, “Tell me if it’s too much. Am careful until I can’t be, baby.”

Until he loses control. He says it right before he drops all inhibitions and — goes feral.

You squint your eyes shut, calling out his name; the word echoes in the small room, and for just a second, you worry the neighbours might hear. And then right away, you stop caring again.

Because you want this man. Now and later and forever; want him like this, want him in any way. This isn’t just sex to you — if that’s what you wanted, you’d download an app like your freshman self used to.

No.

No matter how obscene, there’s meaning in every one of your touches; in every stroke, in every word, in every single time you lose yourself in him.

Your stomach twists as he jackhammers into you; you’re craving proximity, craving all his attention. Want all of his emotions and touches raw and merciless. Want to see him.

Although, when your shut eyes open, you only see blurry forms in the mirror moving, him behind you. He squeezes your neck; you see that much before he slides it down your body, straight to your clit, no detours.

He pushes his knee up for a second, touching the edge of the sink and balancing on one leg, but drops it again soon. The white painted, stainless steel of the sink, previously cold on your tummy, burns against your skin now. A chafing feeling.

Jungkook draws more forms against your clit, but then retracts his hand; instead, squishing your tits, indecisive where to touch. But it’s the last move he makes before he straightens his body, palms on your ass until he spanks just once and…

Pulls out again.

What?

“Look at me, sweetheart,” you register.

You pant, fingers clutching the sink and gulping down the tiredness before you manage a turn. Your eyes land on his dick first; it’s fully drenched in your arousal, so unbreakably stiff.

He whispers again, “Look at me,” but the moment you do, he doesn’t withhold your stare for too long. Instead, his hands are back on your cheeks, drawing you close, seeking your lips. His never-satisfied thirst matches yours; you want to remain here and freeze time.

With your arms around his neck, he guides you towards the washing machine, pushing the clothes further aside. He helps you get on it, but you argue immediately, “This could be dangerous, right? Shouldn’t sit here, I think… might break…”

“It’ll be okay,” he says, making himself comfortable between your legs, pushing them apart with his thighs. Two fingers hold your chin, lips ghosting over yours. “Is a cheap ass thing… want a new one anyway.”

You wonder if he’ll say that about all the furniture he’ll fuck you on. Because observing his eyes, you know that he will — will soil every inch of his apartment within, what you anticipate, a short period of time.

But unfortunately for the washing machine, you’re too weak to reject the offer.

So you hold him tight, jostling him closer to you as you ask, “Yeah?”

“Mhmmmm.” The word drowns in your moan when his cock glides back in; when will you ever get used to this? “Don’t worry… won’t break as badly as we will.”

Well, fuck.

The ridges of his cock drag just right along your walls, the angle making your mouth water. Your cunt is burning; and he still dares to ask, “Okay like that?”

“More than okay, Kook… more than—”

He always screws you numb; barely ever lets you finish your sentences. Your moans have become a constant interruption, along with the goddamn things he says, “Your pussy is so good. So, so good.”

And then he’s back making out with you, sweatier than before. His body is enticingly warm, muscles working on you. Both his and your hair sticks to the nape of the neck or your back, and you hold onto him, keening against his lips.

Then, you lean back for a second, keyed up as fuck, propping up your body with your arms. Your palms press against the back of the machine, and he inches close to explore the bare skin of your torso. His chain skims your nipples, as if on purpose; and he kisses you here, there, everywhere.

Neck, clavicles, tits, jaw.

Perspiring without an end, all of this could be gross. But instead, you feel hyped up, sexy as never before. Dizzy at the sight of his golden skin, the small beads of sweat spreading on it.

It takes one or two more minutes of this insanity until things come to an eventual end. A glorious end, that is — filled with deep moans, squealed calls of names, unrhythmic thrusts that fasten for the finale.

“I’ll come,” Jungkook states, and you shoot back up to him, holding his head against the mounds of your tits. He kisses between them, breathing irregular, words muffled, “Gonna come so hard, what the f—”

And when he does, you lose all coherent thoughts immediately. Not that you could think before — but his uncontrolled exclaims already make you wish for a whole new round. Nevermind that your pussy is wrecked and beaten.

Vocal as ever, he finishes with deep shoves, slowing down with each second. His lips remain open between your collarbones, and you feel his eyebrows draw together. Thick strings of hot cum filling you up, your cunt tightens.

And somehow, after all this, he still finds the energy to sneak his hand between your bodies, blindly seeking your clit until he finds it. Familiar circles render you breathless, even though they’re lazy — but picking up on intensity when he leans back, still breathing hard.

He looks absolutely done — still fucking the rest of him into you. But you’re moaning and groaning, and he’s far from giving up as he says, “Come with me, baby.”

Honestly, he doesn’t need to tell you. You’re already calling and blurting out random words, already limp. Wrapping your legs around his torso with the tiny remaining energy you have left, absolutely insane.

Jungkook kisses you one last time. And you let the build up in your lower tummy and pussy proceed; up and up and up to the peak — until he delivers one last stroke, cock already softening, finger on your nub diligent and…

You milk his dick in its entirety. Your pussy clenches and unclenches. Random figures swim in your vision, flashy behind your eyelids. Limbs trembling, body a mess and fingers hooking into his chain, you only notice now that you’re repeatedly whispering his name.

Winding and crying. Trying not to tug too hard, to break the jewellery, but still urging him closer, closer.

You’re shivering, surviving the vertigo, breathing stagnant. Trying to control it. Quivering like fucking crazy, not feeling your legs.

Also hating how his cum is dripping onto the damn washing machine. In your hazy mood, you laugh a little.

It takes a bit of time for the two of you to calm down, to dim the adrenaline in your nerves. Your chests rise and fall in unison, still clutching to the embrace. His skin is flushed, yours hot, skin tingling with the lingering heat of the passed passion.

And when he finally moves back, looking at you, you see half a dozen things in there. Satisfaction and vulnerability among them. Maybe even a hint of mischievousness, proud of whatever just happened; happy with the emotions it conjured.

Stars in his eyes. Contentment, composure and affection at last.

A pleasant stillness follows, the world outside the bathroom nonexistent. The aftermath of the steamy encounter lingers until you break the silence after all.

“When the hell,” you start, throat dry, “did you get so broad?”

“…What?”

“You just. You looked endless in the mirror. You’re so—”

Amused, he displays a grin as sly as you adore. He tsks and then mocks, “Stop drooling.”

“You first.”

His chuckle is throaty; a result of the constant exclaims and the absolute dehydration. You give the two of you a moment to collect saliva on your tongue, to swallow and wet your cords.

Your fingers paint an invisible, light pattern on his skin; tracing his tattoos is one of your favourite things to do. You jest, “That’s a good way to destress.”

He arches an eyebrow, then rolls his eyes — but the devotion towards you behind the gesture is irrefutable. It carries into his words, no matter how playfully mocking his tone or his sighs, “Everything for the princess.”

“So,” you pause, lips curling into a soft smile. “Is this what I’m gonna be getting for the rest of my life?”

You see it immediately. The explosion in his eyes; the burst of stars in the depths of his pupils. Clear as the night sky, fond and sweet and magical. Guess you spoke big words for sure.

“…The rest of your life, huh?” he asks.

“No?”

“Is that what you want?”

Ever-the-boomerang, you gauge his reaction, closing the distance between you. Lips barely apart, you throw back again, “Don’t you?”

You don’t need to glance through his ribs, lungs, blood and skin; you see the swelling around his heart. Emotions swimming in it in abundance. You see all of it right in his eyes.

And his voice proves it; delicate and quiet, “Baby… you make my heart drop to my stomach all the time. Do I not look at you like I want a rest of my life with you?”

Gosh. You’re too weak for this.

“Look at me like that more often,” you answer, breathing against him, eyes dancing with delight, “maybe I’ll believe you then.”

“Huh,” he makes, letting out an entertained huff, “brat. Maybe later. Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed for now, alright?”

Right. You forgot you’re still here. Snapping back into reality is always a task.

Of course it is.

Because your world is a cocoon; you don’t want to leave it just yet. And maybe, somewhere in the near future — you won’t have to anyway.

Jungkook and you don’t waste minutes doing formalities tonight. No flickering candle flames; no organised set up of your table. You dim the lights, snatching a lamp from his bedroom and rely on it along with the TV’s brightness.

You filled your plates and stomachs with a dish he’s wanted to show you for a while. It’s some special Jeon recipe — limited to him specifically, not his family. The brief cut in your relationship kept you from the meal, but watching him fiddle with the pots and cutlery was worth the wait after all.

He’s still proud of it; you’re filled to the brim, sick to the core, but the noodle-Buldak-mayo-perilla-oil-combination introduced the night just perfectly.

Your body is limp against his after dinner, bloated. A mutual agreement concluded that watching a movie might be the easiest activity you could indulge in to further destress. So you cuddle up, eyes droopy as you wait for the Netflix logo and thump to subside.

You let the username float by, though unable to suppress your giggle. Your back shakes against him, his hand halting mid-air, remote control in it, and you comment, “Letjungcook7. You’re such a dork.”

“Why?” You look back, met with raised eyebrows and round eyes. “Do you not like it?”

“I love it. Don’t you ever dare change it.”

He tuts, trademark smirk tilted; responds, “And don’t you ever change your Sunny Baudelaire icon.”

“God, she’s an iconic baby,” you groan, enthusiastic; your hands gesture to the TV, Baudelaires nowhere in sight, “I will never shut up about this show.”

“That’s why you’re not allowed to change it. Kinda cute how much you love it.”

“Jungkook,” you tug at his unoccupied arm, placing his wrist and palm over your belly button, “would you ever rewatch it with me?”

His hand rubs gently over your shirt, and then drops until his fingers are toying with your — his — jogger’s strings. “I’m a pro at rewatching. I’m down.”

You whisper a dragged celebratory word, eyes back to the screen. He’s scrolling through the genres fast, barely inhaling the titles and summaries. And when he skips three more of the stuff you’d usually settle on, you say, “Don’t think you’ll find anything on there.”

Ironically enough, he answers, “We’ve barely looked. Look. Knives Out’s second part is on there.”

“I just watched it recently. Hmm, what about that Poe movie with Christian Bale?”

On cue, he passes it three seconds later, only stopping on it for a moment before he voices, “Hmm…”

You wait. Drag out another second. Then conclude, “Okay, you’re not feeling it. Got it. Something else?”

“What about Disney?”

“What about scrolling until we fall asleep?”

The hand still busy with the strings moves up to your sides, pinching you lightly. You flinch, hard enough to nearly break his nose, overdramatic by nature. Amidst your commotion, you hear him say, “Don’t mock me. I’ll kick you from the couch.”

“I’ll just stay on the floor then.”

“Angel, I swear.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.”

But you’re not.

Because the bicker continues for another ten minutes, remote control snatched every now and then, ideas suggested and immediately rejected.

Jungkook admits his guilty pleasures merely a couple minutes later, and you conjure all your patience and discourse abilities to explain why you can’t watch The Notebook or Titanic anymore.

But once Dion’s soprano voice builds a nest in a lobe of your brain, you give in, half laughing, half agitated as you tackle the 90s classic — only for Jungkook to click out again.

“It’s no fun when we’re not both ready to watch it.”

“Dude…”

More scrolling, you guess.

Five more minutes pass — and eventually, Titanic deserted, you sing the songs of Coco instead. You expect Jungkook’s attention and lips to shift halfway through the movie, tracing down your neck or along your sides – a standard for a weekday movie night.

But to your surprise, he powers through it with minimal dialogue and wide, focused eyes. Palm above your ribs, moveless under your shirt and his cheek pressed against your heartbeat, you assume he’s fallen asleep by the time the credits roll.

Until – you feel warm liquid wetting your shirt, a sniffle combining with his shaky breath before you ask with your own damp eyes, “Babe— are you crying?”

His answer is delightfully unashamed and immediate, “I’ve never watched Coco without crying.”

The soft strains of the movie’s soundtrack won’t let your eyes dry either; but Jungkook seems far more into it than you. Adoration burns hot in your veins.

“You never told me that!” you exclaim.

“Because it’s not worth telling. Should be a given — these movies are made to cry to!”

You giggle through your tears. Jungkook’s mind works in miraculous ways — non-judgemental, yet probably flashing a side-eye to those who do not partake in a sob fest during Coco or Encanto.

“I honestly love how you’re not a toxic male at all, you know?” you point out; you feel a huff against your chest.

At least he’s smiling through the brief sadness, too.

You crane your neck, not quite turning around just yet, and watch him rub his cheek clean off the tears. Not that his eyes have stopped welling up, though.

For a moment, you observe, staring at the swollen, pouty lower lip. His pupils glimmer in the TV’s light, long locks brushed back; half of them tied in a tiny ponytail.

You could overthink every detail of his face. Tell him all about his everlasting elegance. Instead, you only lower your voice, soft as you say, “You look pretty even when you cry.”

“Thank you,” he returns, though fingertips still work at the liquid, and you can’t help but laugh.

You can barely believe that’s the same confident beast who was pressing you against cool tiles just an hour ago. The stark contrast baffles you.

You’re amused when you question, “It really affects you so much?”

“Everything about it!” he immediately argues. You expand your eyes. “The way Coco looks at Miguel at the end. And that freaking moment when she meets her parents at the end. Does it not affect you?”

“Oh, of course it does,” you defend, “I’m a story girl. I’ll cry reading and watching these things, for sure.”

“And then the lyrics,” he continues, in his element a hundred percent, “the thought of remembering someone even after they’re gone and far away…”

The further his sentence progresses, the more the words blur. His voice is feeble, hoarse when he gets to the final syllables. When he pauses between his rambling to draw a breath, you hear a heartbreaking shake in his inhale.

And the exhale sounds like a quiet sob.

You turn back immediately, pressing onto the pause button, remote control still in his hand. The credits darken the room as opposed to the movie’s colours before. You see a damp trail along his cheek, eyelashes wet.

Your smile vanishes as you stare a little longer. The blanket falls from your chest into your lap when you lift your arm from under it, hastily drying his tears with your thumbs. Just slightly, he leans into the touch, but his face soon falls, an attempt to hide.

You ask, “What’s wrong?”

Jungkook isn’t embarrassed of tears — you figured this out without him admitting it to you. But he’s embarrassed of the guilt he feels; acknowledging it when he speaks.

“It’d just be nice,” hands holding his face drop; you touch his chest, “to make up with the family like this. They made it look easy.”

You keep looking. Bewildered, unable to answer for seconds too long. You blink until the words sink in properly, incapable of more than, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“No, no,” he argues, shaking his head, “I mean. Who am I to tell you something like this?”

“It’s okay. Your worries are legit worries, too. Look at me,” you reassure, prompting him to meet your gaze. “You’re not a bad person. Okay? It’s… so terrible that you think you are.”

“I fucked up.”

It dawns on you once more that he firmly believes that; causes a searing sting. The process is neither a smooth nor a quick one — you know it’ll take a while for him to convince him otherwise. To drop his current beliefs about himself.

“You didn’t,” you refute, firm certainty and conviction in your voice. “That’s not how a fuck-up is defined, I promise you. And those who are actually wrong probably know, too.”

“It’d just be nice,” he starts again; the shrug of his one shoulder doesn’t distract you from the misery and self-loathing in his eyes, “if he called at least.”

“I know. I don’t know, I… do you think you could call instead?”

Jungkook’s lashes brush his skin, the apples of his cheeks not as round and squishy as usual. Yet, the sadness makes him look younger, softer.

You sigh; a warm blanket isn’t enough anymore. You need to wrap him in the comfort of the world — ideally, in his father’s care.

Jungkook opens his mouth for another argument, but then holds it in, says after another moment of contemplation, “Actually… There’s a gathering coming up. I’ll see my people there, so… I don’t know. Trying won’t hurt, right?”

“It never does.”

His eyes start unfocusing. You recognise it in the way he glues his gaze to a point on the glass table, unblinking, staring nowhere in truth. You keep your attention on him for another second, hoping he’ll look at you, even if forlorn.

But when he doesn’t, you wrap your arms around him instead. His chest is calmer against your head now, breathing as soft as the palms that find your back. He presses you into his body by mere inches; you barely notice.

Your fingers draw shapes on his arm, a subtle consoling gesture. In the background, you hear the song fade, volume lower now. The movie soon transitions to something else; you don’t pay any mind to it, drowsy and distracted in his embrace.

But then your mind wanders; to the man keeping Jungkook’s thoughts hostage. You remember the conversation the two of you had last Sunday. You recall the way your hand held his broken heart together.

You wish it was as easy as a small scar — an echo of whatever once transpired, but also a reminder that it healed.

Then, for a second, you think of your own wounds. How they still need to be cured, too. How years and time alone won’t fix issues; you need to tackle them actively — maybe at some point, the two of you can.

You laugh softly against his shirt, burying between his pecs; joking, “We’re perfect for each other. Dysfunctional families and whatnot.”

His chuckle is still a light tremble, but genuine enough for you to celebrate. His hands push a little harder into your back; your body shifts up his lap, butt half on his thigh. Eyes shut, still sniffling.

Jungkook wraps around you like a soothing force, an invisible bubble. A bandage despite carrying all bruises. You sigh in contentment, head dizzy from exhaustion; waking up just when he blurts a question again.

“You really think that, right? That I’m not a bad person.”

You crack your eyes open a slit.

You understand. Someone who overthinks needs multiple repeated reassurances — you’re the same.

So you nod against him, guaranteeing, “You’re… kind of ridiculously amazing. You’re someone who gives all those people hope who don’t believe in humanity anymore.” Pause. “And I admire you in every way. So much.”

He doesn’t respond. You wait. Further dead silence, interrupted by the soft sounds of the TV. You lick your lower lip, dropping your gaze to where your thumb rubs his wrist. Tracing a vein.

His mellow voice reverberates, a melody to your eardrums when he whispers, “We’d do this so much if you were here all the time.”

“Crying in each other’s arms, huh?”

He clicks his tongue, accompanied by the grin you’re certain graces his face, even if you can’t see. You hear it in his voice all the more, “Sure. Also, have dinner together. Shower and watch movies together. Laugh and cry.”

You smile. “I still can’t believe it, you know? That you want this… and me at all.”

“You feel that, too, yeah?” Fingertips move up your spine, between your shoulder blades and then to the nape of your neck. Tickling, grazing gently. “I promise I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t truly feel all that, though.”

“What’s all that?”

“Just.” His chest rises. Then falls. “Everything.”

One of your heartbeats freezes, you’re sure. And when it comes back alive, you think — maybe he doesn’t need the world’s comfort after all. Or his father’s care. Maybe yours is enough right now.

But then again.

You’d be damned if you kept your traumas intact. Or his. You took each other as you came long ago — as vulnerable human beings, with a whole lot of baggage. With all the injuries on your heart.

Yet, this isn’t a state you want to accept. For neither of you.

Your unwavering belief remains steadfast — that one day, things need to become… okay.

So you gulp down all the pain, lighting a candle in your chest, and say,

“It’s not over yet, baby.”

Zara keeps yelling orders around. Her voice, usually collected and tender, is agitated today. You can barely imagine how many little tasks, how many stressed phone calls must be overrunning her.

You establish a distance between your device and your ear, protecting your hearing with one eye squinting shut. And when she returns to the conversation, you exhale through the nose.

“Sorry. You were asking—”

“How’s it look?” you repeat.

“I mean, everyone’s stressed,” she responds, clearly frustrated; as if it should be obvious to you. And it is; but you’ll spiral, too, if you don’t keep your calm, at least. “A lot to do.”

“You’re sure you don’t need me to come earlier?”

“All good, love. You’re not a manager yet,” she stops her speech to mumble something to another co-worker, imaginary hands jam packed with preparations for the press conference. “But when you are, you won’t know what to do with all the stress.”

“Great outlook into a potential future.”

“I just mean you should enjoy things while they last.”

Zara isn’t the only one wandering up and down the building to assure perfection. She’s only one of the big mentors, managers to handle everything; responsible for the catering and content to be presented at the conference.

Her team stands firmly behind her, but you don’t blame her for still allowing her head to steam. Of all busy people in their blazers and slacks, however, she’s been the only one to spare some time for you.

You’re grateful for her enthusiasm and support. You smile as you ask, “Do you think I can answer everything the way I intend to?”

“I think so.”

“It’s so new to me.”

“Yeah, but you’re a natural at this stuff. And also,” she speaks slower now. The chaos behind her has calmed a little; her voice echoes off somewhere. Perhaps a restroom. “Things are looking good.”

You stop sauntering through the room, pausing in front of the bed’s corner before dropping onto it. Dragging your tongue over your lower lip, you blink, and then ask, “You’re sure?”

“We had a couple conversations over here. Made a few more phone calls, and I think you don’t need to worry about a thing. We’ll come up with something if things derail, though, okay?”

You’re uncertain, still anxious. Should this afternoon flop, you’ll be screwed.

You need it to succeed. You can’t afford misfires. Ugh.

Restless, your foot taps against the floor. You try not to think of things going astray; try to think of a smooth progress, not precarious in any way.

Yet, you ask doubtfully, “Can we do that?”

“We always can. That’s business.”

Guess she’s right. Your mother has saved you one too many times — from stupid things you did as well as from things you never needed saving from.

A rich human being’s power over the media — and frankly, the world — is unbeatable. Barely to be underestimated.

“Okay,” you mutter, “thank you.”

Despite only hearing her voice, you imagine her nod, the way she often does. You miss the warm, promising palm on your shoulder. Appreciate that she’s still here instead of dropping you to the side; leaving the call to handle more relevant issues.

No, she lingers there; you hear her breathe until she asks, “Are you bringing your man, too, by the way?”

Your man.

You straighten your back in pride, bright smile back, “Yeah! He said he’d come and support me. But he’s not home yet.”

“Oh? Well, you gotta be here in three hours. Where’d he go?”

“God knows. But don’t worry about punctuality.” You hear a hum, glancing up at the clock. Past noon. “Hey, also. My parents are definitely gonna come, right?”

“Babe,” she drags the word a little, and you can almost see her side-eyeing you, “journalists will be present. Cameras everywhere. At least your mother would never miss such a thing.”

Right. Cares about that company too much.

You remember the times she proved it to you. When you’d come home from middle school, eating some extravagant lunch while watching her talk on TV. Conversing with your staff.

“Okay. Good,” you say, happy about that very answer for once.

Outside, a door creaks. Steps echo through the hallway, a soft call of your name following as you hear the jingling of keys stop.

He sounds joyful.

You get up, phone halfway off your ear as you say, “Hey, I should go. I think that he—”

And the moment you look at the open door of the bedroom, your heart stops. For a second, you fear an intruder at his apartment, but the longer you look, the more your brain gives out.

The black-white-red jacket hugs his broad shoulders comfortably, the thin white sweater underneath it nearly transparent enough to reveal his tiny nipples. But despite his stature, it’s not his body that kills the power in your head.

It’s the—

You murmur last words into the phone, making out a goodbye that doesn’t reverberate as much anymore. She’s probably out of the restroom again; too distracted to give your mumble any attention anyway.

You place your phone where you previously sat and inhale his appearance carefully.

First off — you can see his ears. Can see most of his eyes. His forehead.

His hair is still dark, but it’s tamed. The wild locks, usually a feature you’ve gotten used to over the span of that one year, lay comfortably on his head. In fact, most of them are gone.

You feel a needle in your chest, but one of the surprising sort. Not painful at all.

“Wow,” you only say.

He reaches to the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing the hair there. “Yeah?”

You move towards his body, eyes fixated on every hair strand. Then, close enough, you state the obvious, “You cut your hair.”

“I… yeah. Is it terrible?” he asks, round eyes meeting yours. He raises his hand again, to his ear this time, scratching behind it for a second. “Not used to it at all. But I figured I’d look a little more serious as an artist like this.”

Really? Most artists you knew cared the least about a fancy appearance.

Then again, Jungkook doesn’t look fancy. He just looks different. Breathtaking, more mature, older.

His cheekbones look more chiselled now, his eyes wider. You could pass out right here, right now, and he still wouldn’t know how relentlessly he affects you.

“More serious?” you ask, less because you need an explanation. More because your mind keeps wandering, and you can’t fathom a word he’s saying.

“Just. Needed a change, I think,” he admits, “and wanted to adjust to a press conference’s typical look, too.”

“You did this for the press conference?”

“I wanted to look put together.”

Your heart dissolves and dissipates. His voice is soft as a petal, tender like the colours on his arm. The expression he sports is unsure, like he wants to hide — waiting for your opinion.

He really put thought into this. Woke up this morning and set a goal with purpose, not uttering a word to you to surprise you a couple hours later.

You don’t know what to say. You barely know what to feel, except this unbearable urge to ramble down every piece of tiny emotion he’s ever made you feel.

You want his body wrapped around you, engulfed in a blanket, head on his chest and slumbering for the rest of your life. Want to mumble little confessions, shiver when his lips touch your scalp.

Overwhelmed — that’s what you are.

“I loved the long hair,” you finally admit, “I guess I got too used to it, so I need to adjust, but. But… this is so… It… it suits you.”

You’re stumbling over your words, suggesting doubt. Not the way to go. Perhaps they shouldn’t have chosen you as one of the press conference speakers after all.

Jungkook’s concern grows visible in his big, round pupils; expressive, a true glimpse into his heart. You feel bad because you’re not as good with words as he is, and because he seemed so happy about his choice.

You just can’t fucking express yourself — even though you’re melting inside, falling harder. And maybe he notices your awkwardness, because he tries again.

“You’re uh— sure you don’t hate it?”

“No! God, no. It’s different. You look amazing, Kook. You look like…”

He swallows. “Like what?”

“You’re so pretty, Jeon Jungkook.” You say it with genuinity this time. He closes his lips, blinking, and while he attempts to veil his relief, you still see the high rise of his chest. “You look fucking gorgeous, no matter what you do. I… I mean it.”

The answer satisfies him. His risen shoulders drop a little, tension falling off, and he fixes the already perfectly sitting collar of his jacket before he smiles. Just a little, a subtle twitch of the corners of his lips.

As soft as his response, “I always aim to reach your level, you know?”

You roll your eyes. Partly to keep them from watering because your heart is bursting. Splintering like every morning and every night; you wonder if you’ll ever get used to it.

A couple gentle words lie heavy on your tongue, pressing against the muscle to let them out; but at the prospect of actually uttering them, your guts twist. You don’t want to throw up before the meeting.

So you remove the tightness from your chest with a deep exhale, nearly until your lungs are dry, and say, “Shut up.”

Playfully, you deliver a soft push against his chest, laughing when his dramatic ass stumbles backwards. Submerged in those goddamn dimples, you immediately grab the hem of his jacket and before you know it, you’ve taken a step forward and landed in his arms.

You sneak your arms underneath the leather-ish material, not hesitating for a second before you’re squeezing his torso. He lets out a choked sound, groaning, but reacts similarly fast as you.

His heartbeat accelerates for a moment, right against your ear as you make yourself small. The sweater smells like his favourite detergent and him; musky, fresh. Your palms, flat against his back, crave deeper touch.

Nothing crude; just an afternoon on the bed behind you, limbs entwined, laughing about things that probably aren’t that funny anyway.

For a moment, the silence transcends words. You inject the blend of gratitude and affection through your touch, ensuring he understands.

But when it’s not a testament to your emotions enough, you speak against his chest, voice very likely muffled, “You didn’t have to do this for me… you just. You never have to do anything for me, but you still do.”

“I’ll do anything for you.”

Immediate and sincere. Voice unwavering.

God, you’re not his strongest soldier.

A smile tugs at your lips, and you chide, "Stop that."

"What?"

"If you keep saying these things," you continue, a frisky lilt in your voice, "I'll die. Do you want me to die?"

Jungkook chuckles. Always a soothing melody in a hushed room. He remarks, grip still wrapped around you securely, "Acting all innocent now."

You don’t understand right away what he means — but then you hear his heartbeat, picking up on pace again.

Makes you want to squash him harder. Melt into him further.

“Shut up, Jeon,” you respond with a nudge, cheek pressed against his shirt. Just a moment longer — just a couple more seconds to inhale the solacing scent.

Your heart is unguarded; he could sever it if he wanted to. He’s proven that he has the power to. Yet, you keep fuelling it, vulnerable in his warmth as you say, “You’ve no clue what you mean to me, Kookie.”

Your vivid imagination might be forcing things upon your mind that aren’t actually there, but you do think you perceive the way his entire body melts. Nearly limp, in a state so relaxed and peaceful that you have only experienced in the mornings before.

Waking him up for work, feeling weightless limbs wrapped around you, passed out.

His fingers trace patterns on your back lightly, stirring from bottom to top and back. They first stop at the small of your back, then lift off your body, hands suddenly on your shoulders.

He pushes you off him, your movements reluctant, and looks at you with profound sincerity. His voice matches his expression, gentle and adoring, “Will you tell me how much I mean to you?”

Amidst the delicate minutes you spend standing between the bedroom and the living room, you almost forget that there’s a world outside. It’s a little more grey than before, similar to the suit you’ll be wearing in a couple hours.

You remember the prospect of an audience, the answers you’ve prepared, to questions they probably will ask. Zara told you they wouldn’t hold back — they’d phrase their inquiries friendly, but still keep the intentions devilish.

Right.

The world is still turning out there. You want it to stop for the two of you — frozen moments. But it can’t, at least not yet. Right now it’s too real; and you guess that the worst part is that in your line of business, it will keep revolving around people like you.

Whether you want it or not.

So maybe, if it truly needs to keep spinning and can’t halt for you, keeping you in the centre, you should give it something to talk about, too.

Something crisp, something new. Without a care for it, but all the care for you and the man in front of you.

Which is why you spare him another fond smile, forehead calm and your demeanour confident — and tell him, “I’ll do my best to let you know."

The audience stretches to the far back. All the rows are filled to the brim with reporters or guests. The shutter of the cameras and the flashing lights are agitating.

You look down.

Nervously tapping your feet on the stage, you shrink into yourself inch by inch. Your seat is uncomfortable, though padded, a little too warm against your ass right now. Zara notices your tick and puts a steady hand to your knee, repeating for the millionth time today, “Stop. It’ll be okay.”

“It’s just dawning on me though, Zara.”

“What is?”

You nod faintly towards the mic and the attendees, tell her, “That I was actually chosen to speak. They shouldn’t have chosen me.”

“You asked for it.”

“Yeah, but there are more important things to discuss.”

Zara’s lips form a circle; she shakes and lowers her head, sending out a beam of air that you feel on your wrist, blazer sleeves rolled up. You’ve been like that all evening.

“You can do it,” she repeats patiently, “you’re the boss’ daughter and they want your opinion. You’ll hit them hard with yours.”

You suck in a breath, leave the air in your cheeks, and then puff it out again. “I want to. I hope to, I just— never thought it’d be this nerve-wracking. Don’t wanna say anything wrong.”

The subtle shake of her head continues — or reemerges —, lips in a thin line, eyes slowly blinking, “Mh-mh. We talked about it, okay? Practised all the questions they could ask. You’ll be good.”

“You gotta promise.”

“As much as I can, babe, it’s up to y—” She takes in your falling face, holding back with a sigh when she sees the dread in your pupils. “I promise. Of course.”

She taps your knee, softly and lightly, and then says, “I’m so curious about everyone’s reactions. Like. Gosh, just look at those people.”

You understand what she means. “I know.”

Zara places a manicured thumb on her matte red lips, mumbling, “Here for entertainment. At least a third of them will add their own fantasies to the articles they’ll write. Hypotheses and manipulative, neutrally phrased thoughts. Cockroaches.”

Funny. That’s what you call them, too. A collective understanding, you see.

But.

“Shhh,” you voice, “they—”

“It’s fine. They know it, too. Like lawyers do.”

Can’t refute. Eun told you one too many times how unfair the law business usually is, and how she’ll strive to not have anyone ever manipulate her. To remain genuine.

“Yeah, but,” you still argue, “I imagined they’d be listening in all the time. Don’t they do lip reading and stuff?”

She nods, a finger still on her mouth, smiling, “Mhm. I also feel like I could say whatever, but it’ll be you they’ll focus on today.”

Your heart drops, an uncomfortable twist in your guts adding to the stress. Might have to dash to the bathroom at the very last minute. You curse, “Shit, Zara… I should fucking ru—”

“Stay. You can do this. I promise.”

“Okay,” you take another deep breath, helping your oxygen-lacking, spinning head, “okay.”

You look back to the media present, ready to survive questions; prepared to provide answers. The moderator is talking to your mother at the front, covering the mic with a hand.

They gave you around five minutes to speak, and in that time, you need to answer everything. How you do it is up to you, but the pressure to perform in a certain way, accordingly, weighs heavily on you.

But it’s alright.

You’ll just need to stay confident. Stick to your message. They’ll have things to say anyway — and you’ll make the best of them.

You stare past the lights, squinting to find him, raking your neck. His figure towers in the back, easy to detect, and once he meets your eyes — or perhaps never having averted his from you — he lifts a hand to wave in tiny motions.

Then, he drops his fingers again, entwining them in front of his body. He isn’t necessarily allowed here, but you were able to sneak him through in advance. So now he’s a couple feet from the wall, choosing to stand rather than sit, so you find him easily.

So you seek his eyes for comfort if need be.

Before you parted near the entrance, he said, “I’ll be offering a dozen thumbs up like a fool if you need me to.”

You chuckled — but maybe he meant it. Because his smile and nod undoubtedly dispel your fears; as if he can see you struggling.

The seconds drag on, and the conference begins seven minutes later. Your mother is the first to talk, outlining a general overview of what’s to come. Of Charmante’s philosophies, of its success, praising the team.

Then, she forwards to important employees like Zara, letting them ramble about launches or ideas in depth. Business strategies, partnerships, bringing across points that you usually don’t get the chance to share.

This is legit press; even though out for a loophole, they won’t follow you around or hide in the shadows. Incessant and vexing, but at least they’re allowed here.

Conversations about new collections, store openings as well as expansions and customer engagement pass in a trice, and at some point, another coworker is uttering last words to a last question.

And you realise — that you’re next.

The moderator introduces you with pride; everyone applauds, smiling at you fondly despite all the controversies. ”Controversies.” Under quote marks, as Zara pointed out, because you never committed an offence.

You stand on weak knees. Trembling when you grip the podium. It’s like the sound in the room fades, a single peeping tone overshadowing all noise. You barely blink anymore; not even the flashy white can shut your eyes.

And god, you can hear your breathing. Your damn heart. Your nose sucks in all the air available in the room, or at least in the building, and then you open your mouth to speak.

a/n: this is not a cliffhanger!! tumblr just doesn't allow to drop looong posts anymore, so here's the rest of the chapter lol, keep reading and enjoying, i love you and will see you on the other side!! and don't forget to support this chapter, folks 🥺 <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts fics #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook smut #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

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awrkive · 7 months

Text

COLD NIGHTS & BLURRED LINES (m) — JJK

jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (explicit smut, fluff, light angst) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WORD COUNT 26.6k

WARNINGS/MISC fwb!au, college!au, basketball player!jk, kinda secret relationship(?)!au, nerdy!oc but not really she’s just very school-oriented, jk is tatted up here and is very yummy especially in his jersey sighs, hes also rich lol, school journalist!reader, jk calls oc a lot of petnames, basketball stuff im not sure are accurate t-t. multiple sex scenes honestly idek where all of these came from but they include: unprotected sex (this is a fanfiction everything tends to be crazy around these areas don’t do it irl pls omg lol), penetrative sex, creampie, cumplay, car sex, jk’s silver chain hehe, slight cockwarming, oral sex (f and m receiving), jk wears those curvy headbands thing (they look so cute on guys in fact he wore it once), shower sex. if there is anything i left out, pls tell me so that i can add them here. jungkooks visual is jungkook at jitb listening party .

NOTES if u have been following me you'll know this is a repost haha! i decided to publish this again so you can read it on tumblr if u dont like to read on ao3! also, please pleasssseee send me guys your feedbacks after reading it even a keyboard smash goes a long way anyway ill shut up now i hope you guys enjoy this monster!! last note, pls be gentle with my cn&bl babies <33

[ CN&BL MOODBOARD ]

The late March weather has been cold these days, so when Jungkook – in his real fuckboy fashion – texted you that his nose could use a heater and he could offer to warm you up in return, you agreed for him to come over even though you pretended to be disgusted by his offer.

“Hurry,” you whimper as aforementioned man manhandles you to get you off his lap, making you bounce on the mattress.

Just like that, the warmth from being pressed against his body was gone, exchanged by the cold immediately spreading goosebumps through your skin as Jungkook makes quick work of spreading your legs, eliciting a bit of an uncomfortable feeling from you as you feel your cum leaking out.

Jungkook swipes a hand through his sweaty hairline as he kneels inside your spread legs, and you have to fight a moan at the sight. You still feel a little delirious from when he made you cum the second time just a minute ago, still lightheaded from the high of it. But you can’t deny that he always looks so good in all his natural, naked form; chest heaving, toned stomach coated in sheer sweat, his biceps – especially the tatted one – bulging as he reaches for your hips to pull you down so he could enter you once again.

It tears a cry from your vocal chords, him thrusting in and out of your wet pussy, his pace frantic and inconsistent, a tell-tale sign of his impending orgasm. His grunts, together with your pathetic little moans at the feel of his cock touching every part of your pussy filled the room.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he groans, leaning down, and as a result, reaching deeper into you, mouth reaching for your breast to your mouth. The kiss is a sloppy act of both of you just breathing in each other’s mouths, as Jungkook drills your pussy faster, his fingers tightening around your waist. A particular hard thrust got you drawing out a loud mewl and that’s what tips Jungkook over the edge. “F-fuck – shit, where do I cum baby? Tell me, tell me.”

“Inside– fuck. Please cum inside me,”

He lets out a sharp breath and after a few more erratic strokes, you feel his hot release painting your inner walls.

“Shit,” Jungkook hissed as he fell on top of you. You can feel the way he’s heaving as his skin touches yours, but you let yourself relax on the mattress, breathing shallow breaths.

Since he’s way more athletic than you, he got over it soon and you feel him picking himself up to hover over you, beginning to plant kisses all over your chest and the mole in between them; your nipples, your shoulders, your collarbones.

“Kook,” you call softly, your limp hand patting his ass to get his attention. He always gets so preoccupied with kissing your body after sex.

Jungkook hums, but he looks at you. “Yeah?”

You grunt. “I jwashed my sheets two days ago and I don’t want cum stains on them.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he leans down, and even though you were complaining just now, you let out quite a joyful hum when he kisses you. “Let me see first.”

You don’t need to ask what he’s referring to.

Pushing your body back up, Jungkook takes it upon himself to get his body off of you only to watch as you slide two fingers over your pussy, spreading the lips so he can see the combination of your and his cum all over it.

“You need to hurry, Nayeon is coming home in a few minutes.”

He doesn’t even try to look like he’s concerned about the urgency of that matter, just hums absentmindedly and gets his own finger to run over your exposed heat. You shiver at the contrast of the hot feeling of your pussy and the cold feeling of his finger, but it soon turns into pleasure when he gathers your cum and pushes it back into you.

“Are you going to keep it in for me?” He whispers, a thumb now caressing your hip.

“Depends.”

Jungkook looks back up at you, a sly grin spreading on his lips. “On what?”

“If you’re going to be good and say please when you want something.” You grin at him, feeling pretty proud of yourself for catching him off guard. It doesn’t last long very much though as he smirks, but as soon as he opens his mouth, you hear a series of knocks and your eyes widen at that.

You hissed. “Shit, that’s Nayeon.”

You sit up from the bed. Jungkook mirrors your haste, scrambling to find his clothes on the floor and putting them on quickly. You have your robe just nearby so you put just that on, ignoring the tingling sensation of cum trickling down your legs.

“I have to go.” Jungkook whispers, and you nod, walking towards the window on the far end of the room and opening it up widely.

Like usual, Jungkook steps on the frame and easily hauls himself outside. It’s the backside of the building of your complex, and it’s mostly and usually quiet, so it was pretty safe for him to just go out of there without anyone noticing, and most especially at times like this. Because Nayeon can’t know. No one can.

“I’ll see you later, pretty.”

Jungkook winks at you and you playfully roll your eyes, waving him off which earns a laugh from him. He easily saunters through the perimeter though and you find it quite unfair how he still carries a certain graceful energy to him even though he literally just did an exhausting cardio exercise with you for about thirty minutes. Ugh, him and his athletic body.

Nayeon’s voice can be heard across the flat, but before you let her in, you sprayed an unhealthy amount of air freshener on your body and around the room (just in case she enters) and shoved your discarded clothes from earlier in the laundry basket. After that, you finally run towards the door, welcoming Nayeon with a smile as you open it.

“Hi!” You greet rather cheerfully. She immediately hugs you briefly, groaning as she steps back and enters your little abode.

“Class sucked today,” she throws herself on the couch and you give her a sympathetic smile, walking towards the fridge to get water.

“Well, wish me luck. I’m headed out to one.”

“God, I can’t wait ‘til we graduate, I’m tired of this bullshit.” She says, but she’s opening up her laptop for what you could guess as for finishing up an assigned work. “I wish I was having bomb sex like you. Hey, do you want to go to this party on Friday?”

“I – what?”

“Party on Friday? Finals season for basketball starts on Friday and they’re planning a party. We could use free booze and stress-free night.” Nayeon repeats, but you weren’t asking for the party. You tried to ignore it, but you have the tendency to overexpplain yourself so that you do not get misunderstood.

“I’m not having bomb sex.” You say, and that makes her look at you. At that, you realized you shouldn't have taken the bait. Stupid, stupid, stupid you. You could've swerved this topic if you weren't so quick to react at the word sex.

You stare at each other for a solid few seconds until she rolls her eyes.

“Girl, your hair looks like a bird’s nest and your lips are swollen as hell. I might not be having bomb sex in the current moment but I know what I look like after I do the deed,” She wore her eyeglasses and perched it on her nose. “And you kinda smelled like sex when you opened the door.”

“No!” You feel heat coming and spreading through your cheeks. You thought the damn Febreeze would hold up!

Nayeon waves you off. “It’s fine, it’s not like you haven’t caught me before like that.”

“It’s embarrassing.” You insist, stuffing your face with a bread you took from the counter and purposefully not meeting Nayeon’s gaze so you don’t see the teasing smiles you’re sure she’s sending your way.

“That you’re having sex in college?!” Her playful scandalous tone makes you laugh though and that’s when you look at her.

“No, ugh. Just. Sorry. If I smelled like sex. I tried spraying a lot of air freshener earlier.”

She wiggles her brows. “Oh, is that why you took a long time opening the door? Was your sneaky link here just now?”

“Sneaky what?” You say, laughing.

“Sneaky link. You know, a hook up. Wait, is it a boyfriend? Please say no, because I would be extremely offended if you haven’t introduced your boyfriend to me all this time.”

You could swear you felt goosebumps on your nape when you heard the word boyfriend and saw images of Jungkook in your head immediately, as if you were used to associating him to the word.

“It’s definitely not a boyfriend. Just… someone I hook up with sometimes.”

“Interesting. Do I know him?”

The question makes you nervous. She definitely knows. No one not knows who Jungkook is at your campus.

With a shake of your head, you tell her, straight-faced, “Nope.”

“Okay, which department? Does he go to our Uni?” She asks, now seemingly fully invested in this conversation rather than the assignment before her. You’re happy to be a bit of a help to lessen her sour mood from earlier but you shake your head and let out playful tsk-ing sounds,

“Too many questions, babe,” You teased. “My class is starting in twenty minutes.”

You heard her laughing as you carried your clothes to the bathroom to change and to clean up the mess in your nether region. Damn. Jungkook cums a lot these days… he needs to masturbate or something.

“Fine, fine! You don’t want me to know but I’m gonna find out about the mystery guy one way or another!”

Shutting the door to the bathroom, your face contorts at Nayeon’s words.

Yeah, absolutely not. Jungkook and you made an agreement in the first place that everyone should be oblivious of your situationship, and it’s worked for almost four months now.

You can’t fuck it up now.

As soon as you fixed yourself, you bid your goodbye to Nayeon who went ahead and busied herself by hacking away on her laptop, grabbing your bag and heading out and finally walking to your Uni that was just a few minutes away from your complex. Your apartment is almost like a dorm, to be honest.

The hallway is a little crowded, but you don’t miss a certain brunette in a familiar gray hoodie you’ve had in your closet before.

You meet Jungkook’s eyes but you quickly change your gaze to his friend, Taehyung, who’s walking beside him as he greets you cheerfully.

"Hey, ___!” You return his smile, waving. You had a Philo class with Kim Taehyung at one point and found out that despite your preassumptions about him for being a varsity guy, he was a pretty interesting person to talk with. You’re not super close per se, just acquainted enough to acknowledge each other when you meet somewhere like the campus hallways.

You don’t like the attention it draws, though. So you walk straight to your destination.

Varsity guys tend to be famous, and you’ve chosen to steer yourself away from them. Ironic, though, considering that you’re fucking one. Obviously, you’re not doing a very good job at “steering yourself away from them”.

Maybe it’s the sole reason why it’s a secret. Jungkook is the star player of the basketball team together with Taehyung and a few other guys. You know their usual gist. Famous circle, lavish lifestyle, attractive guys who (unfortunately) know it, skillful at the sports they do, too many people fawning over them. And well… not to be that person but you’re just someone dutifully studying here. Someone in the background. And you love that mostly, but sometimes you think that maybe… it’s why Jungkook seems to never entertain the idea of making your relationship public. Not that you would like that yourself. You took part in the secrecy agreement, suggested it yourself, in fact. You would never admit to anyone you’re fucking him. But, well. It’s just weird.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Someone’s going to end it eventually and you’re gonna make sure it’s you… just so it’s established that you aren’t the one who’s more willing in the relationship. Yeah, that. Just not now. School is stressful. You like sex with him.

When you arrive at the lecture hall, your phone vibrates. A text from Jungkook is plastered all over your lock screen.

[1:15pm] Jeon: hi pretty [1:15pm] Jeon: nice skirt :)

You internally roll your eyes. Him and his literal and figurative skirt chaser tendencies.

[1:20pm] You: Hi.

You get a reply immediately.

[1:20pm] Jeon: wanna grab dinner later

You stare at his text, a little taken aback.

That’s new. Sure, you had grabbed lunch with him at his stupid fancy Benz like, once. After he fucked you in it to ease your nerves about a class presentation you did earlier that day. He didn’t offer, he just bought you Chinese because you passed by a resto as he drove you to your place.

Anyway. You don’t know why he would do this all of a sudden. You fucked three days ago, then the day after that, then earlier this day. You’re not complaining but you never predicted your sex life would be so active like this.

[1:22pm] You: Pass. Studying later

Which is true. You have a Tech Writing quiz tomorrow, though not necessarily hard. Whatever. Your thoughts in the hallway awhile ago are making you feel kind of weird about him right now.

[1:23pm] Jeon: boring [1:23pm] You: ):< [1:23pm] Jeon: cute :) do u want me to order boba ill deliver it to ur place after ur class

Well, that is definitely not new. Jungkook delivers you food, like, every single time.

[1:24pm] You: :))) Yess. Thank you [1:24pm] You: I’m going to venmo you [1:25pm] Jeon: lol yk im just gonna venmo it back to u

True. There’s been a lot of back and forth in that app. One time, he “jokingly” sent you a hundred dollars (a hundred dollars!) after you kept on insisting you pay for the takoyaki he made delivered to you, and that horrified you so much that of course you sent the money back to him, but he made you promise to stop trying to argue with him about the payment thing. It doesn’t mean you don’t feel bad about it still though…

[1:25pm] You: 😤😠 [1:27pm] Jeon: do u also want anything besides boba [1:27pm] You: Noppee, I think Nayeon is going to cook something for us later [1:28pm] Jeon: alright [1:28pm] You: Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you back? [1:28pm] Jeon: nahh it’s alright [1:28pm] Jeon: besides I can think of other ways for u to pay me back without money involved.. ;)

Ah, there he is. He really couldn’t go on a day without sexual innuendos.

[1:29pm] You: You are infuriating and I’m turning off mh phone [1:29pm] You: *my [1:29pm] Jeon: you like when I annoy you so .. [1:29pm] You: No I don’t and Im so sore i feel like my brain will leak out of my ears from so much sex [1:29pm] You: Also please stop using ellipsis in texts [1:29pm] Jeon: hmm [1:29pm] Jeon: who said anything about sex? [1:30pm] Jeon: not me🤔 do u think i just think about sex all the time [1:30pm] Jeon: what’s worng with ellipsis…? [1:32pm] You: Yes you do think about sex all the time

He reacted to that message with the HAHA emoticon, and you felt yourself having a hard time fighting an eyeroll.

[1:32pm] Jeon: you know me so well [1:32pm] You: Also, nothing wrong with ellipsis they just remind me of how my dad texts [1:32pm] Jeon: ummmmm im sure ur dad is great so im flattered

You snorted at that.

[1:33pm] You: you do NOT know that [1:33pm] Jeon: i thought you were turning off your phone [1:34pm] You: I am right now so don’t reply prof is walking to the lecture hall now [1:35pm] Jeon: good luck baby ;)

Nayeon didn’t convince you enough to join her at the party she mentioned before come Friday night. In a weird parallelism, Jungkook also texted you about a party you could come to, and eventually, you’ve come to realize that it was his party. Their party.

Your Uni’s basketball team held a celebratory one because they won the first game of Finals. You only knew when you went to the school’s publication office earlier. The freshman sports journalist, Ryujin, came to you to ask you some questions about her rough draft about said game.

You see, this is one of those times when you are reminded that Jungkook and you really only have a relationship through sex. Sure, you know some stuff about each other. Like how you are an English major, he’s taking Computer Science, you’re the managing director of the school’s publication, he’s a star player in the basketball team; he knows about your favorite takoyaki flavor (it’s smoked bacon) and your boba order, and you know he likes food that you dislike, namely cheese cake and mint chocolate flavored stuff. He also likes Marvel a lot. He knows you’re obsessed with films from the golden age of Hongkong cinema because you mentioned it in passing. (He doesn’t know you particularly love the Wong Kar-wai ones though…)

But somehow, he never really tells you about his basketball games. Sure, he’d mentioned practices before but it’s something he doesn’t bother to include you in. Not that it would matter to you. It’s not like you tell him all about your stuff in school, either.

Your attention is caught by a ping from your phone.

[12:05am] Jeon: hey you still up?

The text reads. You type a reply.

[12:07am] You: Yes, why? [12:07am] Jeon: let’s facetime [12:07am] You: Why [12:08am] Jeon: i want to see your pretty face

Spoken like a true fuckboy. Really?

Before you could respond, his face is taking up your whole screen, asking to facetime you. Without thinking about it too much, you accepted the call, falling back to your bed.

From the screen, you could see that he’s wearing a black shirt with a long silver chain around his neck. He smiles that adorable smile when you finally make your whole face visible to the camera.

“What is it?”

The audio from his end is a little distorted, probably from the loud music from where he’s at. That after-game party, most likely. He texted you about it awhile ago. Nayeon is probably there, too.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

Again with the nickname and the slight way his eyes are hooded as he said it. If you squint enough, maybe you could tell if he’s drunk or not. You’re not sure. But the way that’s his instant words upon seeing you is making you feel a little weird in your stomach. He’s got to stop calling you that.

“Are you drunk-calling me right now…?"

He shakes his head and says something, but you don’t hear it, so you informed him so. The screen shows you dark, pixelated images, making you think he��s probably moving his camera around, and you could make out that he’s walking away from the party as the loud music fades out eventually.

"I’m not drunk.” He says after he settles on a spot.

“Oh, okay.” You nod. You shifted on your side. “Why did you call me?"

He laughs at that. "I can’t call you?"

His laughter intensifies when he sees you roll your eyes. "No. I’m just wondering… aren’t you at a party?"

Jungkook nods his head. "Yes, but it’s getting boring here."

"Oh.”

Another beat of silence, but Jungkook is the one to say another word.

“Hey, do you wanna go out for a drive?"

Well… that sounds good. You just finished a write-up and did some studying a little earlier and you also planned to order food but forgot about it.

"Sure.”

Jungkook smiles at that.

“I’ve been wanting to show you something. I think you’ll like it."

Your eyebrow arched at that. This is getting a little too new. He’s driven you around before but it always involved fucking, not done with the intention to show you something. Not that you aren’t expecting sex tonight, though. You would actually appreciate that.

"What is it?"

You could make out a smirk from Jungkook’s face on the slightly pixelated screen. "I’m going to show you the real me.” The glint of mischief in his tone cracks you up, so you played right into it,

“Ohhh, does it involve dead bodies?"

He nods with a serious face. "Yes, but you have to promise me you won’t freak out."

"Yeah, and don’t you freak out if I tell the police about it.” You squint your eyes, trying to give him a scolding look.

“Ah,” Jungkook leans back. “You would do that, wouldn’t you? You’re always such a good girl."

It wouldn’t have meant anything if it wasn’t for the way his voice drops, giving you a meaningful look again. You could feel the heat in your cheeks but you shrug it off.

"I am a good girl, I pride myself for it."

Jungkook finally laughs this time, finding this conversation hilarious just as you do. "I know, I like it most especially—"

After all this time, you developed a sort of a Spidey sense for when Jungkook is about to say perverted things, so before he could make such remarks, you cut him off.

"If you’re gonna say something sexual I’m going to end this call.” But even you could tell it was an empty threat.

Jungkook thinks so, too, you know that, but he decides to step back. “I was just going to say that I like it most especially because it does good to the world."

The mirth in his eyes tells you otherwise.

"You do not think that.” You say, rolling your eyes.

He laughs once more, throwing his head back as if you said the funniest joke in the world. Weirdo.

“Alright, alright. So I’m coming to your place in five minutes to pick you up. How does that sound?"

"Good. Nayeon’s currently out… just text me if you get here."

He told you to end the call – which you argued you were just planning to do so and he didn’t need to tell you and it earned a laugh from him, how stubborn you were about such simple things. You just gave him a baleful look.

Just as you pick out a sweatshirt and some sweats in exchange for your pajama dress, you receive a text from Jungkook that he’s arrived and so you grab your wallet and keys and your phone, heading out.

You spot his car and knock on the passenger’s seat window and Jungkook immediately opens it for you.

"Hi, gorgeous.” He greets you. “You want to keep the window open?"

"Hello. Yes, please.” You say, fixing your seat belt.

He hums and you press on a button to slide the window open.

“You want to pick up some food?"

You perked up. "Yeah, I was planning to get some but I was too lazy to order in earlier."

Jungkook pressed some buttons again you don’t really understand but it got music to start playing, lights in the car moving into the same beat of the tune (his car was really fancy…). Some mellow ones you kind of liked during this drive on a cold night. He saw a food place from around a corner and you both agreed to get food from the shop.

He parked somewhere for you guys to open up the take-out. There’s some steamed tofu there so you pick it up and start eating.

"I’ve been obsessed with tofu these days,” you shared absentmindedly, chewing on said food.

Jungkook looks at the tofu you were eating. “Really? I remember when you said you dislike it."

"Yeah, but that’s because I cooked it one time and it sucked."

"I should teach you to cook one of these days…” you refused to acknowledge what that entails and laughed instead.

“You know how?” You said to tease, but you also genuinely can’t believe he knows how.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, a faux offended look on his face, saying, “Why do I always get that reaction? Of course I know how to cook."

"Huh,” you pondered. “Wouldn’t have expected it from you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But I have this friend who’s a really good cook and I kinda learned through him."

"That’s cute. Nayeon knows how to cook and I never learned shit from it.” You laugh at your own words, so does Jungkook. “But hey,"

"Hm?"

"Do you think my boobs got bigger? I think they got bigger.” You put your food down your lap and caress your breasts through your clothes.

You’ve been thinking about it since last week. Earlier, you saw yourself naked in your mirror and noticed a change in their size. You almost thought you were pregnant but your period literally just ended yesterday. But can that happen with pregnancies? But… you’re very diligent with your pills… so it can’t be. Right?

You made a mental note to buy a test tomorrow.

“Look the same to me.” Jungkook says, looking at your chest.

You grab his free hand and put it over a boob. He squeezes it promptly, and you hear an almost dramatic gasp.

“Oh, they are bigger."

You remove his hand over you and nod. "Yeah. But I think it’s just due to some hormonal changes. Also I think I’m putting on weight, I’ve been eating a lot these days… but… it’s stupid but I also think my obsession with tofu has something to do with it,"

Jungkook looks over at you curiously.

"Yeah, they say tofu makes your boobs bigger." You added.

He arches a brow at that. "Really?"

"Don’t look so excited."

Jungkook can’t help but huff out a laugh. "I do not!” You roll your eyes. He insists, “I love your boobs the way they are."

"Geez, thanks."

You finished your food and Jungkook drove around again. It’s still in the vicinity of your town. The music in his car serves as a lulling noise in the otherwise quiet night. There’s still a lot of cars on the streets, some occasional honking sounds, but you feel really, really nice, most especially when the wind blows a little harsher and it makes your hair go crazy. Jungkook laughs at that too.

It’s later in the night when Jungkook slowed down somewhere, and soon, he was parking at an abandoned house.

As if on cue, you looked at him and said, "So you really are going to show me your literal skeletons."

He laughed at that.

"Nope, sorry to disappoint, princess."

Jungkook gets out of the car and you follow, immediately shivering at the wind. You wished you wore a hoodie instead of this thin, knitted sweatshirt, but you didn’t expect it would be this cold. It was nearing summer and the weather has been inconsistent for the last month.

You look at the abandoned house once again. There were wooden planks nailed on the door, plastic covers draped over the windows, and overall, it just looks really old. Kind of creepy, if you were to be honest.

In your assessment of the house, you don’t notice Jungkook coming to you with two bottles of soju. He brings them up slightly, a grin on his face.

"Drinks?”

“Okay…” you squint your eyes. “Where are we going to do that?"

He gives you a knowing smirk. "Inside."

Jungkook went over the fence with ease and you followed his direction but didn’t do the same thing. He looks back at you. "Hey."

"Are you sure it’s safe?” You ask, looking around, wrapping your arms around your middle because of the cold.

Jungkook probably notes the genuine concern in your tone, that’s why he sets the soju down and comes forward to you, the fence serving as some kind of dramatic border.

“Baby, it’s fine. No one comes around here.” He says but you don’t really feel assured just yet.

“What if someone comes here now? I don’t want to be arrested…"

"No one’s getting arrested,” Jungkook insists. You still look hesitant. “Come on. Really. I’ve been here lotta times, haven’t ever seen anyone here since then."

You look at him. He seems to be telling that truth and well, maybe you’re stupid for believing him but he seemed to know this place well and had been going here for a long time and as far as you know, he doesn’t have criminal records, so…

"Okay, fine.” You give in.

Jungkook immediately grins. “Nice. Here, let me help you.” He leans forward and takes a hold of your hips as you go over the fence. It’s not that high, really, but you let him carry you over it until you both entered the abandoned property.

When he puts you down, you tug at his shirt.

“Wait, your car.” you gasp.

“Oh, it’s fine. I parked it at that green house, someone’s just gonna assume it’s theirs.” He says, completely nonchalant about it.

You think he’s being careless about his fucking Benz but whatever.

Jungkook leads you to the back of the creepy house and the eerie place immediately gives you goosebumps. The cold of the night does not help, either, so you cling to him until he sits on the ground.

“Jungkook, that’s dirty.” You tell him, trying to tug him up.

He chuckles. “It’s fine, princess. Come here, I’ll take my jacket off. Sit beside me.” Indeed, he takes off his jacket, and you worry he might be cold with his t-shirt only now but you also really don’t want to sit on the ground…

“You’re not cold?” You make sure as you sit beside him. Jungkook opens one of the soju and offers it to you. You take it as he opens another one for himself.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Jungkook starts drinking but even though you have one in your hand, you don’t. He must’ve noticed it as he says, “Hey. Relax.”

“Aside from my fear of getting arrested, it’s also really fucking creepy here.” You retort, scooting closer to him. You got to be honest and admit that you’re more scared of the place than scared of getting arrested.

Jungkook throws his head back to laugh at that. “Again, we’re not getting arrested. And what do you mean creepy? You don’t like it here?"

You look around the place more. "Eh, it’s okay. I just can’t help but think what if there are lost souls around here…” you trailed off, giving him a baleful look when that only made him laugh more. They were quiet laughter, though. Probably to not disrupt said souls.

“You believe those?"

You roll your eyes. "Okay, cool macho guy."

"No, no, I’m sorry,” Jungkook still laughs in between his words and you whisked his hand away in an act of lighthearted sulking when it tried to reach you.

Okay. You don’t exactly believe in ghosts but it’s hard not to when it’s in the middle of the night and quiet and cold and you’re in an abandoned house. You avoid horror movies for a valid reason.

“Alright, let’s cuddle so you don’t get scared.” Jungkook says, but there’s a teasing sound to it.

“Don’t make fun.” You glared at him.

“I’m serious, come here.” He opens his arms wide and you roll your eyes, not moving to come closer. He laughs when even after seconds passed you still didn’t give in. You thought he was giving up but instead he twisted to your direction and let both his legs crowd you so that you’re in between them.

“You’re annoying,” you say but you kind of feel oddly comforted by being close to him like that, and Jungkook must’ve known as well because he just gives you a smug smile, chugging on his soju after.

You did the same. You try to throw away your nerves and scary thoughts, letting yourself relax as he said. When you kind of did a moment later, you find that it’s kind of nice, actually.

“What do you think?” Jungkook suddenly speaks.

“Hm?"

"It’s nice here, right?” He arched his brow at you. “Just try not to think about ghosts."

You pinch his shin through his cargo pants and he gives you a very ingenuine, "Ouch!"

"Except for the ugly house, it’s nice here.” You reply. As you look up, you see stars scattered across the dark skies. It was quite a view, honestly. Makes you a little surprised because it was so beautiful. You almost missed Jungkook’s words.

“Yeah. It’s not exactly beautiful here but it’s a great place to think."

"Think?"

Jungkook sees your teasing smile and shakes his head. "Yes, baby, I do a lot of those."

You chuckle at that and drink more of your alcohol.

You don’t exchange more words after that but you find that it wasn’t awkward. It was just… a nice silence. A comfortable one. With Jungkook crowding you with his legs, you feel like you might be the most relaxed you’ve ever been in the past few months.

You twist yourself so now you’re not facing forward anymore, but to Jungkook. You realize if he’d been looking forward he just had a view of your side profile. You try not to think too much if he just stared at you, although you did feel him do that for a few minutes a while ago.

"Hey, congrats on the game.” You tell him with a soft smile on your face, placing your drink on the ground. It’s still filled in half. You could finish it but you doubt you wouldn’t be drunk by that time. Your alcohol tolerance is not at all exemplary.

“Thanks.” Jungkook sheepishly smiles at you. “You watched it?"

"Ah, no. I just heard about it. I don’t really know anything about basketball so…” you trail off, noting the way he nods at your words.

“Right. I’ve never seen you watch us before.”

You try to joke, “That’s because you never invite me to any of your games."

But it looks like that caught him off guard. "I– huh?” The look on his eyes tells you that he was genuinely surprised at your words, those eyes of him looking like a deer’s when it’s caught in the headlights.

You laugh. “I’m just kidding. I don’t usually watch sports games. Too crowded for my liking."

Jungkook nodded at that, but he still looked taken aback from your words earlier. You really were just kidding. You hope he didn’t take it seriously. But he agrees with you, anyway. "Yeah, it can get crowded sometimes."

Silence and then after a few beats, Jungkook speaks again.

"Hey, let’s make out."

You arched a brow but didn’t really find any reason to oppose it, so you went ahead and kissed him.

Jungkook immediately holds your hips. On the other hand, you snake your arms around his neck, kneeling in between his spread legs. The kiss starts slow but he holds the back of your neck and deepens it.

You whimpered when he nudged your legs with his free hand, and your shock made you break away from the kiss. Jungkook took it as an opportunity to start pecking your neck, though, his hand seemingly coaxing you to open your legs. You got the message and finally straddled his waist, Jungkook groaning and you moaning when you feel your crotches connecting at the action.

He was already sporting a semi, and you also feel your panties getting slick from the way he kissed and bit and licked and soothed your neck.

"Jungkook,” you moaned, searching for his mouth.

He kissed you again, all tongue and so sloppy, his hand reaching for the hem of your sweatshirt and creeping inside it to find you not wearing a bra. He did think you weren't wearing one when you put his hand on your boob in the car earlier.

“Ah, fuck,” he squeezed your tit in his hand, you whine. “They really are bigger. Can I see them, baby?"

You nodded, not even giving it a solid thought as Jungkook immediately hiked up your top until your perky breasts were all bare for him to see.

And devour, eventually.

Jungkook went straight to sucking your boob and squeezing the other to tend to it, massaging it in his huge palm. He licked a nipple and bit at it slightly, making you sigh at his action. Your arms went to his head to fist his hair in your hands.

His ministrations on your chest encouraged you to roll your hips against his pelvis, and that elicited a grunt from him. Smiling a little at that, you experimented on doing it a little harder, and as a result, Jungkook tugged at your nipple, making you whine a little too loud.

"Behave."

You pout. "I want to fuck."

"It’s not so creepy here anymore?” He had the audacity to tease, but his hands were still on your breasts, fondling them.

“I didn’t say we can fuck here. Just…” you looked around, not really specifically looking for something.

Now that Jungkook mentioned it again, you get reminded that it really is creepy as fuck here. And you still didn’t trust the ground. There was no way you could stand fucking in this property. And what if something scary happens while you’re in the middle of doing it…

Just as you were thinking it, a strange sound catches both of your attention.

“I think we should get back in your car.” You decided.

Probably seeing the flash of fear in your eyes, Jungkook laughs. “Are you thinking of ghosts again?"

You slap his chest. "No. But I want to cum."

"So demanding,” he playfully scolds but you just roll your eyes and let your sweatshirt fall to cover you up once again. You immediately cling to him the moment he stands up and help him pick up the soju bottles, anxiously praying you guys hurry up to get out of here.

“It was just the wind.” Jungkook comforts you once you were on your way to his car.

As far as you’re concerned, it’s never just the wind. At least those shitty horror movies you and your cousins watched during sleepovers tell you so.

Jungkook opens the door to the backseat and you go in and he follows after you.

You immediately straddle him once he’s seated, earning a chuckle from him.

“Wow, you’re really eager for me to fuck the fear out of you, huh?” He says, sounding smug about the way you reach for the hem of your shirt and removing it from yourself.

“Hm. Your dirty talk these days have been subpar.” you slide his jacket off of him and he lets you remove his shirt as well, laughing more at your impatience.

“Can’t think straight when a pretty girl is on my lap."

Before you could say something about that, he gripped your waist and got you off his lap, manhandling you to lay on the backseat. Your back is against the car door as Jungkook twisted in his seat, hauling himself backwards to pull your sweats down and take off your birkens. Leaning down, Jungkook pressed open-mouthed kisses up your thighs, teasing his mouth on where you need him the most.

But you didn’t want to feel anything there other than his cock, and you tell him so.

"Jungkook,” you whine, catching his attention. When he looks up at you, you whine some more, “Just fuck me. I’m so wet already."

He cursed, caressing the sides of your thighs. "Baby, I need to prep you.”

“There’s no need for that, come on, please. I need your cock."

Jungkook groans. But then he makes quick work of unzipping his pants, pulling it down with his boxers until his dick is out. It’s plenty hard already, the shiny tip catching your attention.

You let out another cry at the sight of him gripping his base, pumping it for a few seconds and finally pushing your panties to the side and slipped inside you. True to your words, it was quite an easy slide, but the burn still stings a little bit. His size was on the little above average spectrum and you’ve always found a hard time taking it in smoothly.

"Oh, god,” you mewl, grasping his bicep while your other hand grips the back seat.

Jungkook tightened his fingers on your waist, a hand coming up to one of your thighs to wrap it around his middle. You follow his silent command, welcoming the hot kiss he gives you.

“Should I move now?” He whispers in your mouth, and you nod frantically, throwing your head back with a moan when he does as told.

His cock was not even pulled out completely before he slipped it in again, slowly, in agonizing deep strokes. Like he wants to feel every corner of your warm hole.

“So good…” you moaned, tightening your thigh around his body.

“You like when I fuck you slow, baby?” Jungkook pressed kisses on your chest this time, and you could only nod your head mindlessly as he repeated thrusting out again.

“I – ah… so good, Kook. I love it,"

The car is cramped and all you could hear are your heavy breaths and the lewd squelching sound of his cock going in and out of your pussy, his chain dangling in between your bodies feels cold when it momentarily touches your chest.

You would tell him to go faster, harder, but the way he was planting fairy kisses on your skin and his tattooed arm popping veins on the side of your head as if he was finding it hard to not fuck you stupid, you found that his deep and precise albeit slow strokes great.

"So pretty,” he says, moving the strands of hair that stuck everywhere on your face.

“K-kook,” you whimper.

“Hm? Baby? What is it?” Jungkook looks at you with an uncharacteristically soft gaze, his dick still continuing its slow pace in your cunt.

“M-my back hurts like this,” you say.

His eyes look softer at your words, expression gentle. “Sorry, angel.” He caresses your face and kisses you which you welcomed with a sob when his dick hits deeper after he leaned down. “Here, I’ll sit here. Straddle me.” But he doesn’t even wait for you to move as he hauls you to his lap himself, his cock still inside you, feeling it twitching when you sit on it outright.

“Good girl,” Jungkook squeezes your breasts and laps at them, only to look up at you again. “You okay?"

You nod, pushing him slightly so that he relaxes his back against the seat. You brace yourself on his chest and begin to bounce on his cock.

Jungkook throws his head back, letting you on your own pace, hands gripping your hips to help you move.

"So fucking good for me,” he hissed just as when you mewled when his cock hits a particular spot in you. “Take it easy, baby, nice and slow, okay?” He said, taking a hold on the back of your head and pulling you in for a slow kiss.

You followed his words and planted your knees on either side of him, going down steadily, crying out at the way you feel every ridge of his huge cock inside you like this.

It was so pleasurable, the way he groaned in your ears, squeezing your breasts, tugging at your sensitive nipples, murmuring stupid, sweet nothings, his cock seemingly growing larger in your heat each second passed, and soon, you feel that knot in your stomach ready to burst.

“I-I’m cumming, Kook, I’m cumming–"

Jungkook hummed, and when he felt your movements stuttering, he took it upon himself to press his thumb to your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves and fucking his dick up into you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm snap.

"So good for me, baby, fuck, you’re such a good girl for me.” He kept rubbing delicious shapes on your clit, and you had to bite back a pathetic sob as the pleasure started to become too much.

But he was still chasing his high, and you leaned forward to kiss him through it, letting him do whatever he wanted to get himself there.

And when he did cum, you feel yourself cumming a second time too, Jungkook letting out strings of curses and nonsense as he feels you dripping more juices down onto his cock.

Your head falls on the crook of his neck, Jungkook caressing your back as he relaxes on the seat.

For a while, words were not spoken. He kept kissing your hair while you felt him twitching in your pussy.

“I’m so tired,” you wearily peeled your face from his neck, looking at him. He has his eyes shut close, but there’s a content smile on his face that you leaned down to kiss. You didn’t know what for, you just felt like kissing him.

Jungkook hums. The mess in your crotch starts to feel sticky and cold and uncomfortable.

“Let’s stay like this for a while.” He says, as if he could read that you were about to get off his lap.

You chuckle. “I can literally feel you going soft."

"Ignore my dick. I wanna feel you a little more."

"Okay."

Jungkook does an unexpected thing of kissing your forehead. You choose to ignore the weird tingling feeling in your stomach and the way your cheeks feel hot at the action, just let him slip his fingers through your hair and rest your cheek on his naked chest.

You eventually got off of each other after a few minutes, and you both were quiet as you dressed yourselves back. Jungkook and you got out of his car so he could drive and you could enter the passenger’s seat.

The drive to your place was quiet but the silence was nice and comfortable, just like when you were at the back of that creepy old house. Jungkook occasionally sang along to some of the songs playing from a random playlist he pulled up on Spotify, and his voice sounded kind of nice. You wanted to say something about it but decided not to, in slight fear that he would stop.

When he pulled over in front of your complex, there was a soft, gentle smile on his face when he told you, "Sweet dreams."

Your face mirrored his as you wished him good night.

You locked the door to your apartment, ignoring the strange feeling in your stomach.

You found yourselves at that abandoned house again the next night and Jungkook forewent the booze and brought junk food from Wendy’s. You had a swell time just sitting with each other at the back of the house, talking about the most random things you could talk about like some silly childhood memories. You almost shared your joy upon finding out that you weren’t actually pregnant after taking the test earlier that day just like you said you would the other night, but you found it better to keep that to yourself.

Additionally, you ranted to him about Professor Kang for giving you a C+ on a project you thought you deserved a higher grade for. Jungkook showed blind support by roasting your professor’s haircut. You didn’t fuck that night but did it the next night after a few drinks.

When the day of their second game of Finals hit, your Uni won again and Jungkook ditched the after-game party, picking you up and driving you to that place. Almost like it became tradition.

This time, you think you went overboard with the drinks, but it was probably just your shitty alcohol tolerance because Jungkook was standing still with his third bottle – which you childishly argued was unfair.

Jungkook carried you like a sack of potatoes on your way to his car, ignoring how you slapped his ass. But you were all giggles and hushed whispers in the backseat as Jungkook guided your hips, bouncing you on his cock, just like the other night.

"How does it feel, baby?” Jungkook whispered against your mouth while you gripped his shoulders hard to slide up and down his cock, the tops of your feet resting on his thighs.

“S-so good,” you whimpered, speeding up, feeling yourself getting close to your edge.

Jungkook tightened his hands on your waist but didn’t really do anything to control your movements or pace like he usually would. Like he was just enjoying you on top of him, using his cock to get off.

You leaned down to kiss him, your moan upon feeling him deeper getting swallowed by the way he immediately reciprocated your touch.

You opened your eyes but then you suddenly caught a glimpse of a car. You pulled away from the kiss, but Jungkook took it as an opportunity to kiss your neck instead. While he was busy lapping up your skin, you narrowed your eyes to see clearer, only to realize that the car you saw was a fucking police cruiser.

“Jungkook,” you called him, stopping your movements on his lap.

“Baby,” Jungkook’s voice nearly sounded like a whine, understandably confused at your action– or lack thereof.

But you only tapped his shoulder a little harder.

“There’s a damn cruiser in front of us."

Well, it wasn’t actually in front of you. It was more like, parked across from you, beside that abandoned house.

Jungkook seemed to realize your panic though. His car wasn’t lit because you immediately got into it the moment he put you in the backseat. It was a little inconvenient especially when you were slipping him in but it turned to be a blessing in disguise because whoever owned that cruiser wouldn't have noticed what you were doing in his car.

"Shit."

You hastily climbed off of him, quickly finding your shorts on the floor of the car and sliding it on while seated. Meanwhile, Jungkook just tucked his dick in his boxers and zipped up his pants. It was pure luck that you didn’t completely strip each other off earlier because it made for a fast dress up.

"Wait.” Jungkook leaned over the center part of the car and stayed a few seconds hunched over the console. You were just about to ask him what he was doing when the passenger’s seat suddenly reclined back.

“Oh."

"We can climb over here so that we don’t have to go out and have a cop seeing us. It would be suspicious.” He suggested, and you quickly nodded and did what he told you with a little bit of his help.

Jungkook pressed a button once again that had the driver’s seat this time leaning back, just like yours did. He climbed over it just as fast, putting on his seatbelt that you remember you needed to do as well so you followed.

He lit on the car and started the engine. But before he could drive, a knock on his window made you both look at it.

“Fuck.”

You held your breath as you watched his window slowly sliding down, revealing a police decked in his uniform hunching down to see the inside of the car.

“Evening, officer.” Jungkook greets casually. You didn’t know what to do. You reached for the phone in your pocket and turn it on, ducking down as much as you could so as to hide your face, trying to seem busy and casual.

“Oh, it’s just some kids, Hwang,” The cop turned to the side, and that’s when you heard another set of footsteps coming towards you. “You kids live here?"

"Yeah. It’s my parents’ house, I’m just about to drive my girlfriend home.” Jungkook answered, referring to the green house he parked at, not a hint of hesitation or even an ounce of nervousness in his demeanor.

You were too frozen to react to the way he called you his girlfriend.

The other cop nodded. “Apologies. We were just roaming. Be careful, kid, you got a sleek car. There’s some thief on the loose around the street."

Jungkook nodded as well, even did a little salute as he said, "You got it, sir."

The cop patted the top of his car and Jungkook bid them a final goodbye before closing his window again and driving away.

You felt like your soul just went right back inside you after it got out for a moment there.

"Holy shit, that was the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

And then suddenly, you giggled. Actually, like, giggled. Because realizing what just happened, you found every single thing fucking hilarious. You got away from cops!

“Oh my god, Jungkook. That was insane!” You said in between your laughter.

Jungkook looked over at you before training his attention to the road and finally laughing with you, seemingly finding what happened just as hilarious. “Yeah. It was, it was.”

“And they really believed you! I can’t believe it,” you covered your face with both of your hands, your belly starting to hurt with how much you found the whole thing incredulous that it was funny.

“It’s not like we did anything wrong…” Jungkook said but he had a hint of playful tone when he spoke the words.

You snorted. “Well, in between public indecency and trespassing, which do you think they would most likely arrest us for?"

That got Jungkook to laugh again.

During the ride to your place, you complained about feeling too cold at one point. Jungkook asked if you wanted him to turn the A/C down but you shook your head and so he offered his jacket instead because you only wore a shirt. In your defense, when he picked you up, the weather was humid even though it was late at night.

You didn’t stop talking and laughing about what happened earlier, though. You found it hard to let go of it just like that.

"You are so drunk,” Jungkook chuckled as he pulled over. “You’re going to regret it tomorrow."

"It’s Saturday tom–” you cut yourself off with a yawn.

“You’re cute when you’re drunk.” Jungkook commented, pulling over, indicating that you were near your apartment. You didn’t even notice.

“Not drunk, just tipsy.” You said, starting to unbuckle your seat belt but you kept on failing. Your tipsiness was starting to kick in again and everything was a little too hazy in your head.

You still definitely are aware about your surroundings, so aware that you felt Jungkook hunching over your side to unbuckle your seat belt for you, so close that you felt his breath fanning your face.

“Thanks.” You smiled, he returned it.

You opened the door yourself this time, though, and was only a little surprised to see Jungkook getting out of his car too.

“Let me walk you to your door."

And honestly, you should be worried about the possibility of Nayeon being at the apartment and seeing you together, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to care when all you could feel was odd content in feeling Jungkook’s presence as you walked towards your place.

It was quiet but it was comfortable. You noticed how it’s always been like that with him, especially these days.

When you reached your door, you turned to Jungkook who was a little behind you, probably slowed his steps when you neared your place.

“Thanks for walking me."

"No biggies,” Jungkook grins and then he stares at you for a while.

“What?” You asked.

He leans down, holds your hip and presses his mouth against your own.

Surprisingly, you didn’t really make a big deal out of it in your head when you were supposed to because this has never happened before: Jungkook walking you to your door and kissing you before he leaves has never occurred before.

And yet, it felt so normal. Like it was just something that happens on the daily. Like you were so used to feeling his casual and soft kisses instead of the passionate and hard ones that often led to something.

“See you next week?"

You nod, biting your lip as he lets you go. "Yeah."

Jungkook gives you a one, last small smile before he turns around and goes to his car, entering it and driving away from your complex.

What a crazy night.

You did not want to admit it, but maybe the strange feeling in your stomach the other night was goddamn butterflies.

You really weren’t supposed to come with.

But Juyeon, your editor in chief, told you to accompany Ryujin as she goes to interview the basketball team for their second win at the Finals season today. Your responsibility told you that it was fine, which, really is fine because you were used to monitoring freshmen in the club and that was actually one of your official jobs as the managing director but!

You were basically gonna do a babysitting job because Ryujin apparently fucked a guy from the team after she interviewed them the first time and it resulted to a poor article, and as a result, Juyeon is afraid she’s gonna fuck up her future write-ups so you’re the collateral damage of the whole situation.

Juyeon didn’t tell you that herself, though. Keeping things professional and decent. You heard it from the other members of the club.

Right now, you have to be at the gymnasium to meet people you’ve never really bothered meeting before and have always avoided for obvious reasons.

But it was fine.

You checked Ryujin’s questions on the way there and when you arrived, she immediately tried to spot the team’s coach to talk to him about the interview she was gonna conduct.

Instantly, you felt a prickling sensation on your arms and the back of your neck as the varsity players stopped on their tracks to look at the newcomers. At this hour, you can see no one at the gym seats. You and Ryujin were the only civilians and they noticed that immediately.

It’s as if you couldn’t help it, but you spotted Jungkook on one of the benches drinking water. As if on cue, he met your gaze, and you could see the little surprise he had on his face seeing you. However, you quickly looked away and walked towards where the coach and Ryujin were.

"I’m here with our managing director, too. She’s here to help me with the interview.” Ryujin told the coach, all smiles.

“Good day, sir.” You greeted him. He nodded at you in acknowledgement and turned to look at his team.

“Alright,” The coach loudly said, which got the players to transfix their attention to him instead. You tried not to notice Jungkook looking at you as he walked towards your direction, the other members doing the same. Coach stood straight and elaborated, “The school’s publication is here to interview you about the previous game you’ve had. Practice ends here–” he was cut off by the collective loud cheers from the guys. He shook his head. “But put on your best behavior."

"Guaranteed, coach.” Someone said but you saw how he sent a wink to Ryujin’s way.

Jesus Christ, where even was the subtlety? It was such a boy-ish thing to do. If you could, you would roll your eyes. Wait – was it the guy she fucked on that interview? Ugh. You couldn’t really bring yourself to care. It was her sex life… just maybe she shouldn’t mix it with her journalism activities…

“Careful, Kang. I’m gonna make you do ten laps if you don’t give these writers some good material,” The coach warned and some of them snorted. He then turned to both of you and Ryujin. “These guys are very rowdy but you guys will be fine."

You try to smile at him as he bids his goodbye and leaves the gym. Taejun, the senior sports journalist had already interviewed him so Ryujin only had to do it with the players themselves so they could collaborate on the article.

Ryujin enthusiastically greeted the team and introduced herself, as well as you. You offered them a small smile and was only a little taken aback when Taehyung chirped your name.

"Hi, Taehyung.” you return his greeting.

He grins at you.

Ryujin looks at you immediately. “Oh, you know someone here?"

Yeah, technically you knew of some people here. You knew Taehyung though, and you knew Jungkook. But you chose to just nod instead of saying anything.

Ryujin lets out a happy noise. "That’s so cool!"

Yeah…

"Hey, surprised to see you here,” Taehyung walked up to you. “I thought you weren’t in the sports section?”

You were surprised to know that Taehyung even remembers what you told him a long time ago. You got to know each other that much during the time you were constantly talking.

“Well, yes. Ryujin is a freshman, though. I take care of them sometimes, you can say.” You replied.

Taehyung nodded in understanding. “You’re gonna be here for a while?"

"We’ll see. But I think the interview will be a quick one."

Someone from the team called Taehyung and he looked at you apologetically. You nodded with a smile.

"We always seem so busy whenever we see each other,” Taehyung shakes his head with a laugh. You find that quite funny too. “Hey, do you wanna catch up? Get some coffee around."

"Oh, yeah, sure. But I bet your sched is crazy these days.” you said, alluding to their constant practices for Finals season.

“Nah, I can make time. Unless you have a crazy sched too?” He gave you a playful smile.

You cocked your head to the side, squinting your eyes at him. “Not all of us are trying to get our school a big trophy."

Taehyung laughed at that and his teammates called for him again, this time it was Jungkook. You both looked at him. He had a strange look on his face but you shrugged it off.

"Well, I better get going. Ryujin’s starting.” He said and pointed back with his thumb.

The boys were kind of rowdy in the start, but they eventually scattered around the benches doing their own thing as Ryujin talked to them individually, especially the ones who usually play in court.

You offered to take some of your own notes, too, were kind of bothered that you didn’t really understand some of the terms used and that this was very unusual territory for you to get a material at for writing an article. You never really dabbled on sports writing.

Eventually, you felt your bladder looking for relief so you told Ryujin that you would be back in a minute.

It was a little difficult to find the comfort room but you did see it in the far corner of the hallway, a few steps away from the gymnasium.

You were washing your hands on the communal sink after peeing when the door suddenly opened, revealing Jungkook in his jersey.

Hand clutching your chest, you looked at him with a scandalized expression.

“Jesus,” you squint your eyes. “Why are you here?”

Jungkook closes the door and saunters towards the room. “No greetings or anything?"

You give him an eyeroll and come back to washing your hands as soon as you get over the initial shock of seeing him.

You simply shrug.

In a second, Jungkook was beside you.

"We haven’t seen each other in a while,” he said, giving you a playful nudge.

You whisk your hands, ridding the wetness out of your hands.

“It’s only been three days."

You see him smile at you through the mirror, and he has that soft look again on his face. You get reminded of your last night together. When he kissed you good night as he dropped you home.

"I was surprised to see you there,” Jungkook says, turning around and leaning back on the counter.

You think he’s referring to seeing you at the gym and that makes you chuckle. Why was everyone surprised to see you at the gym? “Why, you think you guys own the gym or something?"

Jungkook found your sass amusing, though.

"Come on, you know what I mean."

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him but ended up laughing for no reason other than he also laughed.

"Eh, duty calls. Our EIC had me accompany Ryujin, so...” you see Jungkook nodding. You swerve the topic to the next one. “Your big game starts in, like, five days from now.” You mirror his stance and also lean back on the counter.

Jungkook watched as you did so. “Yeah.”

His eyes are trained on yours, and you hold a weird, intense stare until he finally peels himself off from the counter and walks to you. You’re surprised that you’ve never thought about him in his jersey but you were able to see him earlier like this before and right now, in your close up view, damn. He looked good. Especially with his tattoos all out like that. You really like them. They looked pretty.

“It’s probably gonna be the last game,” you said, referring to the fact that they’ve won the last two games and if they win this one, it would be the concluding point of the Finals season. “You’re going to make the Uni proud?” You arched a brow at him.

He shrugged. And finally, he crossed the small distance between you and held your hips. You think you unintentionally let out a happy hum at the contact. You’ve been wanting him to touch you as soon as you saw him earlier. For some weird reason.

“Sure, but only if you’re there for me to give me my personal reward,” The lewd undertone was not lost on you and it made you giggle. Somehow, he’d gotten even closer, fingers caressing your hips in soothing circles. “You look good, by the way. This skirt is new?"

It is new. You try not to think too much about what it says about you that you kind of thought of him when you placed the order a week ago. It was just a blip of thought, anyway. You swear.

"Yes. And you’re kinda sweaty,” He really is. But it doesn’t stop you from looping your arms around his neck and Jungkook is only visibly satisfied at the close proximity.

“Hard at work,” he leans down, but he only nudges your nose. “Can I see your panties?"

You would have scolded yourself for giggling like a school girl at that question, but Jungkook must’ve realized how stupid that sounded too as he laughed together with you.

"I don’t know, you’re gonna have to do it yourself. I think.” You whispered, playing into the joke.

You saw his smirk before he finally closed the hairsbreadth gap between you and touched your mouth against his. He prodded at the seam of your lips with his tongue and you let him access, his tongue swirling with your own as you shared a rather passionate kiss in the sink.

There was a string of saliva between your mouths when he broke free.

“God, I missed your taste.”

It was his last words before he dove in again, kissing you way deeper now, more frantic as well, as he started getting handsy. At some point, his hands on your hips lifted you up until you were seated on the counter, Jungkook kissing you like it hasn’t only been three days since he had you like this. He squeezed your bare thighs that got you whimpering, your hips, waist. Up, up, and up until he was copping a feel on your boobs through your clothes.

He was kissing your neck when you suddenly felt him untucking your shirt from your skirt.

“Wait, no,” You tried to get your head out of your previous headspace and took a hold of his wrists.

“No?” Jungkook stops, looking at you curiously, lips plump, hair a little wild. And with his stupid basketball uniform, it was extremely hard to discourage his advances.

But…

“Someone might come in,” you say with genuine worry in your voice, pushing him away slightly.

“There’s not really a lot of people who come to this bathroom,” he tells you. Which, you think, kind of makes sense. Him and his teammates have their locker rooms and their own comfort room that was an extension of the gym (which you pointedly didn’t go to for obvious reasons) and this part of the campus was a little quiet.

But then again, you did tell Ryujin you would be back in a minute. And it would be quite ironic if Juyeon told you to monitor her because she fucked someone in the team while you go ahead and fail to do that job because you were fooling around with another someone from the same team.

Jesus. That’s enough crisis for today.

“Ryujin’s probably going to interview you soon,” you said, tucking your shirt back into your skirt.

You jump slightly to step on the floor, turning around to fix your hair, seeing Jungkook stepping back through the mirror. “Why did you leave the gym, by the way?"

Jungkook invades your personal space again and presses himself to your back. "I got excited when I saw you…” he whispers in your ear and your whimper betrays your resistance from literally a few seconds ago as you feel something hard on your ass.

But at the same time, you look at him incredulously through the mirror. He just shrugs as he sees it, gripping your hips again and burrowing his face on the crook of your neck.

“Kook,” you whine.

Jungkook chuckled and before you can do something stupid like give in to his touch, he leaned back and held his hands up.

“Fine, fine,” he says, still laughing when you turn around to glare at him. “Can I see you later?"

You jab at his chest lightly. "For being annoying just right now, you can’t "

His face contorts and pouts. "Aw, come on,"

You roll your eyes at his dramatic antics.

"We can’t get into anything tonight. Nayeon is staying at home and I’m nervous about her seeing your car if you pick me up,” you tell him. “Also, we can’t go to that place. That cruiser might be back again."

"Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook agrees. “We can just go together to my place after this, though? It would be late by the time your friend is finished with the interview."

You look at him funny.

He sighs. "Damn, I thought I could finally convince you to fuck at my place."

You shake your head. "Never.”

From the start, you both agreed to only fuck at your place (whenever Nayeon is not around, of course) per your request. Jungkook lives quite far from the campus, at least far compared to yours, and it was a high complex building. As far as you know, most of the big shots at school live there and he’s neighbors with Taehyung. You don’t want to risk it.

“Never is a long time..” Jungkook wiggles his brows at you and that breaks you from your thoughts.

Laughing, you push at him playfully.

“Gee. You should go. They’re probably now wondering why you’re taking so long."

"They’re probably thinking I’m taking a shit.” he shrugs. “I think I told Taehyung that before I left.”

“Oh no, is that what they’re going to think about me, too?” You gave him an animated concerned look, making your voice purposely higher in pitch.

“Wait, what? You take a shit?” Jungkook playing into the joke caused you to laugh and you punched his bicep that he just took with a grin.

When the laughter died down, Jungkook looked at you seriously.

“When can I see you again?"

"I don’t know. Sometime this week, maybe? Don’t be whiny.” You smile as you see his pout. “Hey, you really should go now."

He looked a little hesitant but he didn’t really have a choice. And you were also growing more concerned that someone from the gym might think maliciously about you and Jungkook disappearing at the same time for a long time. Hopefully, no one cared enough to think about it.

"Alright.” Jungkook says finally and starts to step out. Before he leaves, though, he asks, “Wait, are you going to the game?"

You hope Jungkook doesn’t see the surprise if it showed on your face. You didn’t expect him to ask that.

But you try to play it cool, pondering on it. It’s Wednesday, next week, and as far as you knew, there was nothing major in your schedule. You still don’t know about that, though. Maybe some of your profs would drop a big project on your heads come Monday.

It’s why you were surprised to hear yourself say, "I’ll try."

Jungkook gave you a wide grin before he left completely.

When you got back to the gym, Ryujin was already talking to him.

Jungkook looked at the door when you entered and did a poor job of hiding a smile to himself, and for what reason, you simply didn’t know. But so as you did not know the reason for why you looked too closely at him to even notice that tiny gesture.

For someone who was adamant to see you last week, Jungkook wasn’t really able to snuck in time to do so. You shared texts here and there, but he mentioned that they’ve been practicing nonstop since the past few days because they are preparing for a big game, after all. Might be the last one if they come through and win it.

Come Wednesday, the day of the third game, Jungkook texted you that he got a reserved seat for you at the venue. Your weird giddiness over that was clouded by the worry at the thought of how he managed to do that without anyone suspecting anything about your relationship. You mentally noted to tell him about it later.

When Nayeon came home after classes, she told you she got two tickets for the game if you wanted to come with. You didn’t really need tickets, though, you could just use your journalist card and they would let you in.

See, you had all these resources to go to the game but the thing is, you have a book review and another assignment due tonight and you needed to get some studying done for a test tomorrow. The game starts at 3 pm and will probably end around 6 or even later than that. It’s not that you never procrastinated in your life but you’ve learned over the years to prioritize more important things over the ones that didn’t really need urgency. And this is why you told Nayeon that you couldn’t come with her because of your packed schedule today.

But worry looms over you as you remember how excited Jungkook seemed over your texts earlier when you asked him what you should expect at the game. He told you about how it could be chaotic and noisy and crowded but it was gonna be fun and worth your while, especially if – he jokingly said – he scores a shot for you if you were to be there.

Looking back, you made it sound like you were gonna come but in your defense, you really were going to but these school activities came to you unexpectedly and you didn’t have the luxury of time to set them aside to watch a basketball game first.

And anyway, was it really a big deal if you didn’t come? You don’t think Jungkook would really mind. Maybe his texts went over your head that you thought he was excited at the prospect of you going to his game. You would tell yourself it didn’t matter, and if Jungkook was going to be shit about it (which you doubt, ‘cause he seemed casual about inviting you) then he was weird for being (hypothetically) weird about it. It wasn’t like this was normal for you both, anyway; you going to his games, that is.

So around 2 pm, you messaged him.

[2:06pm] You: Hey, I’m really sorry I can’t go to your game. Swamped with school works, but I wish you good luck :) Go break a leg but hopefully not literally!

It was hard to focus on writing your book review because you couldn’t help but be agitated as you remembered that they air these Finals games on television and you could literally just turn it on and watch it from there. But the empty document on your laptop was glaring at you, like it was daring you to watch TV instead of finishing it.

Of course, you chose to tend to the intimidating clean white MS word page instead. As if you really had a choice in the first place.

At 10 pm, your book review was mostly done and only needed a few touch-ups. You also finished your other assignment so you finally had some time to eat.

You just reheated a leftover pizza from your fridge when you received a text from Nayeon.

[10:11pm] Im Nayeonie: babe im sleeping over at a friend’s so the place is all yours for tonight. don’t forget to lock up ok [10:11pm] You: Ok! You’ll be back tomorrow morning? [10:14pm] Im Nayeonie: eh probably around 10am but I’ll see

You remember that she was at the game earlier. It actually slipped off your mind eventually when you got your head in too deep with finishing your assignments, but now that you’re reminded of it again, you wanted to know how it was.

[10:16pm] You: Hey how was the game? [10:16pm] Im Nayeonie: oh my ur interested in bb now?? [10:17pm] You: Don’t tease! I just wanted to know if you had fun [10:17pm] Im Nayeonie: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You snort at the ridiculous emoticon.

[10:17pm] You: What the hell does that mean?! [10:17pm] Im Nayeonie: nothing lmaoooo [10:18pm] Im Nayeonie: but the game was fine! it was kinda intense but our uni lost unfortunately): they had a three point difference

Oh. You usually didn’t care about any sports games that your Uni has but the news deflated you for some reason.

[10:19pm] You: Ah, thats unfortunate

You replied, finding that you didn’t really know what to say. Should you message Jungkook? But what were you going to say?

[10:19pm] Im Nayeonie: yeah it is it was supposed to be the last game 😖😖 but there’s still 2 more to go anyway im not too worried about it finals went like this last season too [10:20pm] Im Nayeonie: but jungkook’s buzzer beater at game 4 was really insane it’s like all over on twt IK you proly won’t care about it but ill still send you a link HAHAHAH

Nayeon did send you a link and thankfully you were able to see it even though you didn’t have Twitter, but you looked up "buzzer beater” on Google first. You didn’t understand it completely but slowly did when you played the video she was talking about.

The camera was a bit shaky and the background was expectedly noisy. The angle shifted to the timer on top of the ring and you could see that there was only ten seconds left. When the lens panned to the court, you saw a player wearing your Uni’s colors and you couldn’t have mistaken Jungkook for anyone when you spotted the tattoo sleeve. He was a bit far from the ring, at that curved line – the three-point line, you learned through the replies – but he successfully shot the ball quite gracefully into the ring and everyone just lost it. Even the person behind the video was cheering exuberantly. You could also make out that Jungkook pumped the air at his own shot in triumph as a buzzing sound overtook the screams before the clip ended.

Apparently, they were losing in the fourth game, but Jungkook managed to make a three-point shot in the very literal end which got them a chance to play through the fifth.

You scrolled through the comments and found out that it was indeed a tight game and the other team only had a three-point difference with your Uni’s team, like Nayeon said.

It was amazing, in your opinion, but people online could really be shitty.

Some were mocking Jungkook’s buzzer beater in game 4, saying how it was useless and how he could’ve done it again in game 5 but wasn’t able to. You didn’t know shit about basketball but you were very certain it was a rare thing to do in court so the people who were complaining about it could go fuck themselves.

This is why you avoid social media as much as possible. You hope Jungkook doesn’t see those comments.

You were frowning as you texted Nayeon back.

[10:26pm] You: That was cool [10:26pm] You: Hey I’ll talk to you soon I’m gonna go eat dinner. Have fun on your sleepover

You weren’t able to see her reply when Jungkook’s name is suddenly plastered all over your screen. You accepted his call on the third ring.

“Hi,” you say. You can’t help but think about the negative comments on Twitter but Jungkook sounded fine when he answered.

“Hi, baby,” he greeted on his end. “Can I see you?"

"Sure,” you answer almost immediately. You composed yourself before continuing. “Nayeon will be out until morning. Come over?"

You can feel his smile through the line as he says, "Nice. Be there in five."

Per his words, Jungkook did arrive in five minutes and when you heard a knock from your front door, you quickly opened it and ushered him inside.

"Hey,” you greet him as he removes his stompers off. He slides on your extra fluffy home slippers, your old one that you have been lending him whenever he would come over. You think it’s kind of funny on his feet because the sliders were too small. “I just finished my leftover pizza for dinner so I don’t have any food right now. Do you want me to order in?"

Jungkook shakes his head. "Nah, I’m not really hungry. Unless you are? Wait, nevermind, I’ll do that."

He takes out his phone but you stop him.

"No, no, it’s fine. I actually ordered Chinese while you were on your way so I could beat you to it.” You tease. But you kind of meant it, honestly. He needs to stop paying for everything. But also, the pizza didn’t cut your hunger and you needed to eat rice, anyway, so you ordered in right after your call with him ended.

Jungkook frowned but then shook his head. “Alright."

"Water?” You asked, going towards the kitchen.

“Yes, please."

He followed you on your way there and when you turned around to give him the glass, he snaked an arm around your waist and kissed you.

It took you by surprise, but you reciprocated immediately. You mirrored his smile when he broke the kiss. He gazed at you, a fond look on his face, and leaned down to press his forehead to yours and said, "Hi."

You giggle. "Hi."

Jungkook presses his mouth on you again and you kiss some more for a little while. It was weird because your kisses usually lead to fucking, but this time it didn’t mean anything other than plain kissing, just for the sake of it. You were reminded of that time in high school when you and your first boyfriend often made out (sloppily) in your room because it was all you were ready to do. Jungkook was far more skilled than said first boyfriend, though. And it felt way nicer with him.

You were the one to pull away, licking your lips and biting the bottom one.

"Do you wanna watch something?"

"Hm. Hopefully you aren’t going to make me watch Legally Blonde again."

Your frown is instant. "I thought you liked that movie?"

Jungkook chuckles and pecks your lips again but you sulk, especially after hearing his next words, "I do, baby. It’s just I’m getting tired of it…” When he sees your frown deepening, he says, “I’m kidding. We can watch it."

"No, I feel betrayed now.” You break free from his hold and down another glass of water.

He laughed and was about to say more when your doorbell rang, indicating the food delivery just arrived. Jungkook was the one to volunteer.

“I’ll go get it."

You turned on the TV in the living room and sat on the couch.

Jungkook followed almost as quickly after you, placing the bags of Chinese food on the coffee table.

"Oh, I think we should watch an Adam Sandlers movie. Just something not so serious.” you said just as when Jungkook sat beside you, remembering about his game earlier. You noted that he seemed to be in a good mood when he came in but you never know, maybe he was good at hiding his real emotions or whatever. And, well, maybe you were a little happy to see him laughing like that with you, despite losing an important game.

“I thought you hated him and his movies?"

You shrug, appreciating that he even remembers that.

"Eh, it’s fine. It's... camp, you know? Sometimes shitty movies are funny because they’re shitty."

After a while, you get reminded why you don’t watch Adam Sandlers movies. Even Jungkook who laughs at the most stupid jokes didn’t find the supposed punchlines of the movie you were watching funny. But somehow, you found yourselves eventually laughing at how unfunny the film was and only a little surprised when you went through the whole Chinese take-outs not even 30 minutes in the movie.

"His movies always make my film maker dreams die.” You comment absentmindedly, drinking your water.

Jungkook looks at you with a surprised expression. “Filmmaker?"

You try to remember if you mentioned it to him in passing before. By the look on his face, it was probably his first time hearing it.

"Yep."

"Oh,” Jungkook nods in thought. “I see you didn’t pursue it."

"Eh, film school is expensive. Also, it’s not a very generous industry for women, so.” You shrug nonchalantly.

It’s a dormant dream for the most part. Sometimes, you want it a lot, but most of the time, not really. Fresh out of high school, you were supposed to major in it but it was way more you could afford, and your family didn't exactly support it. So study education it is. Besides, teaching was a secondary dream that you decided you could pursue, and well, you were doing well with it. These days though, you were planning to go to law school but it's still something you aren't very sure yet.

It’s a drama you don’t want to bother Jungkook with, though. You never had a discussion like this before… and you weren’t really sure if you were ready to open up to someone like that.

“I did videography in first year,” he shares. You arch your brow at that. Obviously you didn’t know. “I liked it and I was going to major in multimedia arts but dad said it was either be a lawyer or a doctor if I don’t do tech."

Ah. An overachiever family, you think. His dad owns a really huge tech company – he didn’t tell you that himself, you just heard it from other people in your school. He probably doesn’t even know you knew that. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he told you right now that his family was full of successful professionals.

"You went with tech.” You say.

Jungkook chuckles. “I did. But I made a bargain and said I would only take it if he lets me play basketball. He did let me, but he only tolerates it because I’m passing my classes."

You nodded, relating a bit. you wouldn't say your parents were particularly strict – but they were extremely practical people who wanted practical lives for their children. They weren’t over-controlling that they smother you with decisions you could make yourself.

"He really hates it, though.” Jungkook continues.

“Basketball?” You ask.

He nods. “Yeah. He thinks I’m thinking of going professional after I graduate, he doesn’t want me to do it."

"Are you?” You ask, curious. “Going professional, I mean.”

Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t know yet. I love playing. I'd also like to do tech after college, but it feels like I’m just following in his footsteps if I do that," And as if you didn't know already, he humbly adds, "My father’s in tech, by the way.” -- as if his dad was just a regular guy in the field.

He didn’t say it directly, but you feel like he’s probably being pressured by his dad to do this and that. And that makes you feel bad. Jungkook was always so easy-going, so laidback in a way that you would think he was just some varsity casanova asshole with zero care about their future because they think their looks could get them by through their lives, but he really wasn’t anything like that at all. He joined basketball because he loves it, maybe he gets a high from people admiring him for it but you could say he does it mostly for himself. That’s why he trains so hard and plays so hard in court. Aside from that, he was also really smart – which gets overlooked quite often because of his jock persona, and you know that because you were one of those who did overlook his intelligence before because he was a varsity. But he was smart, alright. He takes his studies seriously just as basketball.

Jungkook is admittedly a lot of great things. And it was sad that his family seemed to not support him, the way you see it.

But…

You didn’t really know what to tell him. Is he opening up? It’s just that… you never really talked about these things before and what he’s saying right now is so far from your usual lighthearted and casual conversations and interactions. You drew a conclusion that he probably has a tight relationship with his dad, but you don’t know what to do with that entirely new information.

“Uhm, you’re good at it, basketball,” And his studies, too. You wanted to say but didn’t. You add, “I saw your beater buzzer from the game earlier. It was really cool."

"It’s buzzer beater– hey, how did you know about that?” He says with an amused smile. You feel slightly embarrassed at how you mixed up the term but it was kind of complicated, alright! And you were kind of nervous. You find it comforting that he doesn’t tease you about it, though.

“Oh, well. Nayeon texted me about it. Also, you’re like, trending on Twitter.” You just told what Nayeon said. You actually didn’t know if he was trending because you didn’t have an account in the first place. “But don’t go look there, though, you’ll have a migraine."

Jungkook chuckles and leans back on the couch, relaxed in that position. "Yeah. People on the net can be real assholes."

That comment makes you frown. That probably meant he saw the negative feedback, right? Was he used to it? That would be… upsetting if he was. You knew about the local popularity of the athletes in your school, especially the football and volleyball and basketball players. Jungkook is obviously included in that circle but you feel bad that he has to deal with unnecessary hate. Jobs really are needed for chronically online people, you think bitterly.

Before you could say anything, Jungkook’s phone rang and you didn’t mean to look at his screen but you saw "Dad”. He declined the call.

“He’s talking my ear off about the game earlier,” Jungkook shakes his head. “He acts real concerned over my loss for someone who’s very unsupportive of my basketball career.” He was grinning while he said it but you could hear the annoyance in his tone, how he shut down his phone to probably dodge future calls from his father.

You turned to the movie in front of you.

“Hey, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go.” You said, effectively changing the subject.

“Hm?” You meet Jungkook’s gaze. He smiles a little. “Ah, I read your text earlier, it’s fine."

You nodded and tried to focus on the movie again, but you haven’t been following the plot and so you had no idea what they’re showing you now.

Jungkook suddenly speaks.

"So are you planning to teach once you graduate? Or take law? You mentioned it before."

Oh. Is he…?

You could feel his genuine curiosity in that question. But you find yourself hesitating to engage in any more deep conversation with him. It’s not that you didn’t want to share… you’re just not that kind of person. Is he expecting you to lay out your personal drama?

You choose not to.

"Not sure. I don't want to talk about it."

You didn't mean for it to come out the way it did; clipped and annoyed. As if you didn't want to talk to him. And you could see that he was taken aback, surprised at the sudden change of your tone. But why? You didn’t feel like sharing. And anyway, you were only fuck buddies, right? Are you suddenly becoming bestfriends who tell each other about everything?

You awkwardly shifted in your seat, eyes trained on the screen in front of you but you felt Jungkook’s stare even while you weren’t looking at him, his eyes boring holes in your side profile.

You decided to not think too much about the awkward silence throughout the next few minutes, but Jungkook suddenly stood up, looking at his phone.

“I... should get going,” Jungkook announces.

And you didn’t expect to feel so bummed about it. But somehow, you were relieved. There was suddenly a certain strange energy around and you didn’t know if you could take any more of it.

“Ah, yeah, it’s kind of late…” you trail off.

Jungkook smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You delude yourself into thinking it was not fake. He’s never faked a smile with you before.

“Thanks for the food and for inviting me over.”

“No biggies.” You say as you follow him towards the door.

It’s silent again when he wears his shoes, and once he was set and ready to go, you could feel that your smile was hesitant as he bid his goodbye.

“See you around."

He didn’t offer anything more – he would usually tease you as he goes out, just to rile you up before you part ways. Jungkook just gave a final wave and went on his way.

You had a hard time sleeping that night.

It wasn’t hard to avoid Jungkook all week when he himself seemed to be outdoing you in it.

For the record, you weren’t actually avoiding him for all sense of the word. You needed your space to collect your thoughts from that night and were trying to recover from the awkwardness of the situation because Jungkook and you might not be the best of friends but you’ve never been awkward with each other like that before.

But maybe you should be a little relieved that he hasn’t been texting, or that you haven’t heard from him. Because you weren’t sure if you were able to manage getting out of your shell so soon.

It didn’t mean that it didn’t sting a bit when he didn’t even spare you a glance the other day as you passed each other in the hallways and perhaps you should be celebrating, because yey, he finally did not acknowledge you in some way like meet your gaze and give you a small smile with so many people around that might notice and make a big deal out of it?

But you wore the black skirt he liked so much! He was supposed to text you something stupid like "nice skirt :) i wanna see it pooled around my lap” by the end of the day but no! No such thing happened.

Was he mad at you, is that it? Why would he be mad though? Did he seem mad that night? Did you do something that guaranteed this... Whatever this is? As far as you knew, you did not say anything that warranted a silent treatment from him. Did you? Wait, is he actually giving you the silent treatment?

Ugh.

When Thursday came, you found yourself watching their fourth game on TV together with Nayeon. You got a slight whiplash because it felt like your first time seeing Jungkook’s face in a long while. Somehow, he looked even better on TV, and he was so serious whenever the camera caught him. You supposed he ought to be, but you’ve never seen him that serious before. He would smile whenever they scored, and maybe it was a little embarrassing for your heart to do a little jump when you saw that toothy grin again, after so long.

You were slow to understand shit about the game, but you got the whole gist of it eventually.

Unfortunately, though, the tight game resulted to your university losing in the end.

You wanted so badly to text him something, anything, but you felt like you weren’t on texting terms, so you went to your Instagram and sent Jungkook a direct message.

[11:58pm] ynblips: Hi! I watched the game on TV and it was really tight and you did so well :)

You were mostly not expecting a reply, so you were only a little disappointed when you indeed didn’t get one even after a day passed. But he liked it, only liked it. Which kind of pissed you off.

What was his deal? You’ve gathered that you, apparently, weren’t on speaking terms, for some reason. But this was ridiculous. If he had a problem with you, he should be upfront about it. Not make you guess with this stupid giving-you-the-cold-shoulder thing when you didn’t even deserve it. For god’s sake, you knew that last meeting was awkward but you both usually do a good job of swerving those situations and moving on and acting casual! You’ve been casual for four months! This relationship was supposed to be easy. Smooth-sailing. So what changed now?

Nayeon noticed your crankiness earlier this day, and it concerned you, how much this whole thing was affecting you.

But you’ve grown tired of not knowing anything. You were tired of guessing why Jungkook was being like this.

So you were a woman with a mission today. You planned to talk to Jungkook so he could finally be a big boy and talk to you about his obvious problems with you. Because it had to be that, right? He wouldn’t talk to you because he had issues with you.

Later that day, your quest was made easy when you saw him at the library.

You’re only a little surprised with yourself when you walk towards his direction with the presence of many people around. Yeah, whatever.

“Hey,” you called.

You could see Jungkook’s eyes widening a little as he turns around to see you, his hand stopping from taking notes on his iPad as he looks up at you.

“Oh, hey,” he greets you, but you can see he is a little confused as he takes out his airpods. You never talked to him on school grounds whenever people were around. He neither did, though. It was a mutual agreement.

“We need to talk."

Jungkook looks in between you and the book and notes he was doing, and you would understand if he tells you to fuck off because he was busy – maybe not with those exact words because you’d probably take it to heart and cry about it, but he’s taken you by surprise when he says,

"Okay. Let me just fix this.” Jungkook closes his book and his iPad, stuffing them in his bag.

You anxiously tap your shoe on the floor, though not with sound, aware of the people looking at your interaction with the school’s basketball star player.

“Where to?” He asks as he slings his bag over his shoulder.

“Just, uh, follow me."

He surprisingly does without further questions, and you begin to second-guess yourself about being kind of mad at him for seemingly being mad at you. Maybe you were reading too much into these past few days? Maybe he really wasn’t mad at you and you just assumed so because he suddenly stopped texting you? It’s not that you needed an explanation for why he wasn’t talking to you suddenly. He had a life outside having a friends with benefits situation with you and you know that.

Jungkook stopped when you halted your steps at the far end of the library. It was the old theology section and no one really comes around here anymore so it was quiet and free of lingering, poorly hidden stares from other strangers, who you prefer to not be included in this conversation you are about to have.

Shit, should you have just texted him and told him to come over so you could talk more in private? But you doubted he would reply, and anyway, Nayeon would be home so you had no private space to do that.

"Okay,” you start. “Let’s talk."

Jungkook quirks a brow, leaning back on a cabinet.

You look at him one more time and sigh.

"You’ve been avoiding me.” You didn’t really mean to say it in such a heavy tone, but it came out that way and you couldn’t take it back.

Jungkook is caught off guard.

“Huh?"

You frown. "You’re avoiding me. And I don’t know why and I couldn't care less, usually, but I'm confused and I don’t want to guess anything with you so just say it now."

There, you’ve blurted it all out.

Jungkook took a long time, but you feel yourself getting angry when he only says, "I’m not upset with you."

Really? Really?! Is he really planning to to do this right now? What’s next, is he going to call you crazy for thinking that he was mad at you because he suddenly stopped talking to you altogether? Un-fucking-believable.

"I know you are, just say it.” You say, trying to balance your emotions. He really is gonna call you crazy if you lash out.

“I’m just busy with practice.” but the way he said it so dismissively, like he wanted to be anywhere but here right now, makes you frown even harder.

“You can’t even text me?” You called out. You didn’t know why you said that, because you did just tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal if he didn’t text you. But it doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt when he confirmed it.

“I don’t owe you an explanation."

You bite back your tongue. Wow, is he going for asshole today? But it hurt, because it was true. He didn’t need to give you an explanation. You weren’t anything important, and nor was he in your life, in any way, so why are you genuinely hurt by this?

When Jungkook noticed your silence, a flash of conflict in his expression, he decided to add, "Look…” he trailed off, as if not really having any idea what to say next. When he gave you that placating look, you knew he was about to say something that will completely piss you off.

“Is it about the sex? I’m sorry we haven’t been able to do that the past few days. Do you want to have sex today?”

You felt anger boiling in your chest as soon as he said that.

He really is going for asshole today.

What in the actual fuck? He thinks you’re confronting him because you haven’t been having sex? Why would he say that like you were just some desperate whore frothing in the mouth to bed him? Does he think of you so low like that? Did he not consider that maybe you were just genuinely concerned of feeling so distant to him right now?

You swallow the lump in your throat and scowl at him.

“You know what, fuck you. I asked you nicely what’s your problem with me.”

Jungkook was visibly surprised with your outburst, and you were disappointed in yourself to even show an ounce of reaction to that bullshit he just said.

But he just looks away, eager to avoid the look on your face. “You didn’t ask that, you went ahead and accused me of avoiding you when you’ve been doing the same thing."

"Oh, so you are admitting to avoiding me. What’s the issue? Say it.” You demanded. But Jungkook wasn’t having any of it.

“I don’t have a problem. What’s your problem? Why are you acting so upset about all of this?"

To even throw that on your face was cruel, and you think you saw a flash of hesitation on his face when he said that, but it was blank after a split second. It’s blank until now, like he doesn’t really give a shit.

Great.

"I just want you to talk to me if you’re upset with me about something.” You say, even though that wasn’t really what you intended to say. It felt like defeat.

You feel pathetic all of a sudden, remembering his words. Why are you so upset about all of this? Because clearly, you care. And apparently, he did not. He didn’t have to put that to words. He didn’t have the right to hurt you like this.

“Talk?” Jungkook repeats. “The last time we did that, you didn't seem to want to."

His words have a bite to them, like he means more than that. And that night flashes in your head. When he was opening up to you, and you chose to disengage by being cagey and avoiding it all together because you felt weird about it.

When you don’t answer, Jungkook sighs.

"I have practice in five minutes. I’ll see you around."

He doesn’t even say goodbye or spare you a last glance when he walks away.

You are a turtle.

Obviously, not literally. But turtles, when bombarded, reflexively duck their heads inside their shells to protect themselves before any damage could be done to them. And the same could be said about you.

You avoid problems like a champ. It’s the only sport that you’re really great at.

Growing up, you’ve never really had a lot of friends. You had a small circle in high school but you didn’t see a significant value in your connection. Maybe because you grew up in an environment where love was non-existent and the relationships in your house were transactional at best, still are. Until now, you have no idea if your parents loved each other at one point or if they were always like that; like two different strangers working jobs during the day that just happen to have the same house to go to at night so you and Jini have some people to call "mom” and “dad”. You guessed you’ll never know, but it was hard not to think that their relationship has always been the latter. Your relationship with your sister mirrors that of your parents’, though, so you can’t really criticize them for not acting like partners enough.

When you were young, you hated the way you approached friendship or any sort of relationships a lot. You hated how it was so easy for others to befriend one another, how it was easy for girls your age to have a life outside of studying. You hated how easy it was for other people to not build these sturdy walls whenever someone approached them. But you just kind of grew into it along the way…

Social networking is important for college, though, and you were forced to have friends but you did make friends willingly along the way. It was not that you are a total sociopath, nor do you think you are one. Nayeon was a sweetheart who was very likeable and you’ve had the pleasure of being roommates with her for two years now. You are close to a certain point, but it wasn’t like you were best friends. She was two years older than you and was on her last year of college and had her own close circle of friends. The closeness was a result of living a domesticated life with each other because you lived in the same house. But you genuinely like her.

And you’ve actually met more people you genuinely liked when you went to college, not just her. Like Taehyung. He was a fun conversationalist, and you feel like you could totally hit it off only if you weren’t too hesitant to befriend him. Juyeon is probably the most hardworking woman you’ve ever met, and most of your liking towards her has a lot to do with the respect and admiration you have for her. And then there was Namjoon. A guy two years your senior during your sophomore year who you've had a short fling with. He was a great guy whom you actually saw yourself dating, but it was a bit complicated. And then Jungkook…

Well… he was everything you imagined him not to be.

You still remember the first time you saw him during orientation day. He wore this huge white sweatshirt and light-washed cargo pants with some stomper boots, hair curly and so fluffy as he slung his bag over his shoulder, talking animatedly with a friend. You’ve had crushes in high school (like that one senior guy from the debate team who turned out to be an asshole so you got over it pretty quickly) but it was the first time you’ve ever felt so strongly like that. Your crush faded eventually though when you learned he was a jock.

However, the universe made different plans. You both had the same code for your first term Philo class and got partnered on a project, and unexpectedly, he turned out to be smart, kind, witty, so unbelievably handsome and attractive and actually wasn’t an asshole like you thought he was when you found out he played in the varsity team. That was the start of your pathetic minor pining over the guy and then four months ago happened.

You hit it off at a random party Nayeon told you to come with her to. Had enjoyable sex. And then another. Until you both talked about the agreement – the stupid agreement that you have now still.

You like him a lot. Always have. In more ways than one.

You were an expert at hiding your feelings so it never really got in the way. And anyway, you aren’t ready for a relationship so the arrangement has always been perfect for you.

But you hated that. Because, really? This part of your life feels like some pages taken out of a shitty young adult fiction book. Falling for the popular jock at school at the same time your fuck buddy. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. You weren’t supposed to like him more than you already have because you were both clear at what you wanted when you started it. But it happened and all those fun times with him at the abandoned lot and the soft kisses and gentle smiles and fond gazes and funny conversations and his stupid teasing are most likely going down the drain because you hurt him with your inability to face your feelings.

You aren’t stupid. You know Jungkook likes you too. You know the past few weeks have been dangerously teetering outside the line of being fuck buddies but you went along with it because who wouldn’t? What were you to do, anyway? Confront it? You’ve never been confrontational.

So when Jungkook tried to get to know more than your outer surface by opening up to you about things that probably no one other than you knew, you cowered.

You cowered because you were afraid of what that would entail.

You’ve never done it, opening up to people. You’ve never known anyone to a point like that. You just weren’t the type to get too close to others, them letting them you in their lives just as you let them in yours. That wasn’t who you were and you’ve always been contented with that for most of your life.

But it wasn’t fair to Jungkook and it wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t fair to Jungkook because he deserved to know that you care. He deserves to know that you want to know him, too. You want to be close to him more than just the physical, sexual aspect of your relationship. You want to know his intentions behind the overly kind, almost special way he treats you, his caring words, the meaning behind his soft kisses after sex, the purpose behind those kisses that didn’t lead to sex.

And lastly, you want him to know that you were sorry for the other night.

So when another Friday rolled, you finally mustered up the courage to go to his game. It was the last one, after all. You wanted to show up.

The venue was crowded and chaotic and you wanted to ditch but you decided it was fine. You were gonna endure it if it meant you finally got to see Jungkook physically in court.

And saw him, you did. Even though you were in the middle row seats and wearing a cap because you oddly felt unwelcomed and didn’t want to be seen by him – as if he would even want to see you. But it was whatever.

Jungkook was… amazing. That was really the only adjective you could use to describe how he was. Maybe you were a little biased but he was the greatest out of all the ten people running around the court. He just stood out, even when someone else did the good job of scoring.

And people around you seemed to think so too because whenever he did get to score or was the one holding the ball or his face got shown on the huge screen, everyone just lost it.

The match was tight again so it bled into five games. Your Uni just needed to win the last one and they would successfully bring the trophy home.

You found yourself silently cheering for your team, specifically Jungkook, though it felt strange to you because this was your first sports game, after all. But it felt good to do it. It also felt good to see other people so passionate at cheering him on as well as his team, especially after you read all that hate against him on the internet the other week.

And it felt especially great when they did win in the end of it all.

The stands went wild as the game finished with your Uni scoring a solid 105 and 96 for the other.

You’ve stayed long to see Jungkook being awarded the MVP title, but not long enough to find it difficult to get an Uber as you went home.

Nayeon got to your place later than you, but you learned that she wasn’t at the game earlier but was in a study group instead.

You ordered dinner for the both of you, just some Chinese that you quickly finished up.

By 11 pm, you were panicking.

You had a solid plan yesterday. You were supposed to go to Jungkook and apologize to him and whatever but how the hell were you going to do that when you had no idea where he was now? Ugh. You should’ve approached him after the games earlier! But you didn’t feel comfortable doing that with so many people around…

You saw your phone on your night stand and got an idea to just text him. But you didn’t know if he was going to respond. If he was going to tell you to fuck off, you at least didn’t want to receive that through text.

So you opted for the last and craziest option you’ve got.

[11:08pm] You: Hello, Taehyung! I know we haven’t talked in a while and I’m sorry for texting you now, I just have some questions if you don’t mind :) Congrats on winning Finals by the way, it was a great game.

You anxiously wait for his reply that you received not even a minute after you sent your text.

[11:08pm] K. Taehyung: hi __ HAHAHHA im a bit surprised to see your name on my phone!! we’ve never gotten around having that coffee 😅 but thank you for the congrats! hit me with those questions i don’t mind [11:09pm] You: It’s a real bummer that we’ve both been so busy ): [11:10pm] You: But I was wondering if you know where Jungkook is? Last week he lent me a jacket when he saw me pour a drink on myself at some cafe, haha. So I was thinking I should give it to him now but I have no idea how to

Listen, it wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a complete lie either. You indeed needed to find Jungkook, and he lent you a jacket weeks ago which you needed to return but you forgot about it and conveniently remembered it just earlier when you were trying to conjure up an excuse to see him.

[11:10pm] K. Taehyung: oh i was actually just talking to him awhile ago. he wouldn’t go to the after-game party. said he was gonna stay up all night to play overwatch or something [11:10pm] K. Taehyung: I can text you his address if you want to come over like right now

You feel like you aren’t supposed to just give your friends’ addresses away like that but it is flattering to think that Taehyung must trust you enough to not assume you were a psychopath serial killer or something.

[11:11pm] You: Yes, please. Thank you so much, Taehyung. Catch up on that coffee hang another time

You got an Uber to drive to his place. You tried not to think too much about the fancy complex and how there were elevators instead of just stairs like yours but you managed to get to Jungkook’s place through Taehyung’s text.

You pressed a button upside the knob. It created a loud buzz and you tighten your fingers around the ribbon handles of the paper bag that got his jacket inside.

It was the perfect excuse. You did need to return it to him. And if you got too flustered or scared to talk to him further, you were just going to leave right after he takes it from you and just accept the fact that he probably really hates you now because you were mean and—

The door opens, revealing Jungkook. A shirtless, wet Jungkook.

“Oh."

Jungkook has a hint of shock in his eyes when he comes face to face with you. You’ve never been here, for the record. And he was probably wondering how the hell you got his address.

"Uh,” you start. You thrust the paper bag towards him. “Here. It’s your jacket from weeks ago. I washed it already. Thanks for lending me it.”

You see his hesitation when he takes it from you, and it makes your nerves go haywire.

Jungkook mumbled a little thanks. He stood there for a moment, probably still not getting the shock out of his system. As each second passed, you felt the need and the urge to go, but his voice cut that idea in your head.

“Uh. Do you wanna come in?"

"Yes.” Maybe it was too much of an immediate answer, but you needed to. If you were to stand outside much longer, your courage will wear down and you might miss an opportunity to talk to him.

Jungkook stepped aside and further invited you in. Your steps were a little shy as you followed him inside, watching as he took a pair of Nike sliders and offered it to you as you removed your birkens off your feet.

“Thank you.” You tell him, sliding your feet on the slippers that were definitely too big for you.

He gave you a small smile in return. That gave you a bit of hope that it would go well tonight.

“I’m just gonna go and change into something. You can sit here,” You followed behind him into the living room of his rather huge flat. Really, this was more of a condo unit than an apartment. “There's– sorry. I wasn't– it’s kind of messy here right now but I was busy the past few days. It’s not usually like this here."

Jungkook hastily arranged the scattered throw pillows on the couch. You even hear him hissed as he picked up a bowl and some take-out trash on the coffee table. He reached for something in the tight corner of the couch, holding up a remote awkwardly for you.

He quickly looked away from you though, turning to his huge TV (it was literally a jumbotron) and making it light up. It showed some kind of game on pause.

"I’m sorry, I was playing something earlier. Uh, do you want to play anything? I have a lot of games.” He continued to say.

And you realized Jungkook was panicking. He was rambling, talking words over his own words, jumping from one thing to another and hastily cleaning up the space in the living room.

It was… adorable. The way he was kind of scrambling… to accommodate you? Eh. But it was nice. Nice to know that you aren’t the only one panicking.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t really play anything.” You say honestly. You don’t like gaming. It’s stressful.

“Oh…” Jungkook trails off then his eyes set on the kitchen. “Oh shit wait, do you want water? Tea? I don’t think I have tea but I think I can look for something?"

You couldn’t help the laugh that came out from your mouth but you quickly cut yourself off.

"Sorry. Uhm. No. I don’t want anything.” Truthfully, you wanted water but Jungkook needed to change into something immediately. You may not exactly be talking talking right now but his body and tattoos were nice to look at and you didn’t want it to distract you too much. It felt wrong to admire him like that when you were not exactly in great terms.

“You sure?” When you nodded, Jungkook did the same too, but more like to himself. “Okay. I’ll just get to my room."

You sat on his nice leather couch and looked around as Jungkook changed.

It was such a nice place. You could see that it was indeed expensive. The space was definitely, like, three times larger than your own and it even seemed to have another room on the far end. You didn’t know if Jungkook lived alone, he never mentioned anything about it.

You still didn’t find yourself completely relaxed as Jungkook emerged from his room.

The fringe of his bangs are still wet from his shower, but he’s now changed into a grey hoodie with matching shorts.

"Hey,” he said as he walked towards you and sat on the couch. The distance was far but not totally that you end up being on the opposite sides.

“Hi,” you greeted him back. “You have a nice place."

He smiles. "Thank you."

The atmosphere was incredibly awkward, you could feel that. But you pushed yourself to go through it.

"Congrats on the game earlier.” You tell him sincerely.

“Ah… thanks."

"I went there."

"Really?” You could see the understandable surprise in his face after hearing your words. “I didn’t see you."

You chuckle lightly. "Hm. You were too serious and busy in the court to see me.”

Jungkook shyly looks away.

“I– well. You should have told me. I could’ve gotten you a nice seat. Did you get a nice seat?” The sentiment was cute but surprising at the same time. After that time in the library, you wouldn’t have expected him to get you a nice seat.

“It was okay."

It didn’t look like he would say anything more, but you were a little relieved to have a break from the atmosphere when the door buzzed again, indicating someone coming.

You feel your heart jump.

You didn’t know why your mind went to such dark places like him having someone over to do– what? Ugh. Jungkook wouldn’t do that, would he? Honesty was what you agreed on when you started this agreement. You promised to tell each other right away if you start sleeping with other people because of health reasons.

"That must be the pizza.” Jungkook murmurs as he stands up.

You almost sigh in relief.

Okay. So no other women coming over.

Jungkook comes back a moment later with three boxes.

“I thought we could eat something,” he said as he sat on the couch again, this time a little closer than earlier. He looked at the TV, still on that game he was playing. He placed the pizza on the table and took the remote to exit out of his game, pressing some buttons on it and eventually the screen loaded to Netflix. “You wanna watch something?"

That would be nice, actually.

"Yep."

"Okay… uh. Legally Blonde?"

You couldn’t help your eyebrow from raising.

Jungkook laughs a little. You’re a little surprised to hear it. It felt like eons ago since you’ve heard it.

"I like it a lot.” He shrugged and then looked it up on Netflix, clicked the movie poster and pressed play.

You start eating the pizza on the couch. You were obsessed with Legally Blonde probably an abnormal amount but this time, its entertainment didn’t affect you full force because at the back of your head, you’re still trying to figure out how to speak up the words you really wanted to say to Jungkook.

“Hey…” you suddenly speak. You hesitate for a while but then let out a heavy breath. Jungkook looks at you because of that. “I’m sorry."

His confusion was anticipated. He face looks like he was ready to ask, but you continue,

"About the other night. Uh. When you went over. I’m sorry. I made you feel like I didn’t care but…” you train your gaze to the remote on the corner of the couch. “But I do, Jungkook. I care about you. It’s just that, it freaked me out, you know? People never felt comfortable enough with me to share such personal things and I’ve always been okay with that because I’m not exactly—” you cut yourself off, trying to organize your thoughts. But you give up because there was no use in doing such. You wanted to be honest as much as possible. “I know I don’t exactly strike people as someone who can care. And, well, that’s true, you know? People always tell me that I almost function like a robot. So, uh, I freaked out, because I thought you trusted me enough to do that and I felt like I didn’t deserve it, your trust I mean. And so I acted like that because I didn’t know what—”

“Hey,” Jungkook stopped you before you could go on a full spiral. You didn’t notice because of your rambling earlier but he was closer this time. “Breathe. It’s fine. I have all the time to listen to you."

It was such a sweet sentiment, paired with his charming smile. You feel your heart jump and look away from his gaze.

"Baby,"

There. He’s calling you that name again. Has he forgiven you? Were you both on that terms again? But he couldn’t have forgiven you that fast!

"Baby, look at me,” you did, because he held your face in his warm hands, making you look at him. You could feel your cheeks tingle in his hold. “I’m actually so glad you came here tonight. I appreciate your apology, and I accept it.” He says, voice sounding so sincere.

You looked down, feeling like you don’t deserve it at all.

“I’ve been thinking, you know?” Jungkook lifts your chin up with his fingers, smiling, such mirth behind it that you think he was probably thinking you were going to tease him about his words. But you didn’t feel like joking with him right now. “I totally didn’t think things through that night. I shouldn’t have told you all about my personal drama—"

Oh, no. That’s exactly what you thought you made him feel that night, and for him to verbalize it, it hurts you. Because you knew you truly made him feel that way. It wasn’t your intention but you knew your reaction –or lack thereof– threw him off.

"No, no. I should have—"

"No, ___, I shouldn’t have dumped all of that onto you expecting you to have a say about it and be disappointed and extremely hurt when you didn’t. We don’t know each other a lot, I know that." He gives you a sheepish smile. "I guess I just... I wanted us to know each other a little better you know? But I must’ve freaked you out instead and made you uncomfortable with me telling you all about those when we made it clear that this relationship was never going to be like that, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for dumping. I kind of… realized that... maybe you just wanted some lazy time with me that night. So I’m sorry. I believe you're also apologetic about it, but I’m saying don’t be. It was all on me."

Jungkook’s words were a jumbled mess in your head that you were surprised to even get them.

"I–no, no. Kook– I… told you, I care about you. I—” you felt a metaphorical block in your head, and it made you cut yourself off. But then you remember his words and so you continue, “I didn’t just– look. It was unexpected, and I told you I just freaked out because I didn’t know where we stood and I just felt like I wasn’t deserving to know you like that. But I care a lot about you.”

Jungkook was quiet for a while, and you feared he was contemplating and thinking you were just lying to get over everything with. But then his face softens at your words. “I care a lot about you, too,” He says, and then it contorts a little, as if he remembered something. “That’s why I’m also… I’m also sorry about that time at the library. I was a complete asshole to you. I wanted to be mean because I was hurt but none of it was your fault. I really am sorry."

Your head takes you back to that time in the library. He did hurt you with the harsh words he’d spoken, but his apology sounded sincere and you believe it.

"Yeah. Uhm. I’m sorry about cornering you there. I should’ve texted you that I wanted to talk but I wasn’t sure if you were going to reply."

Jungkook looked a little shameful for reasons that you couldn’t think of.

"I’m sorry about that. I acted like such a boy about the whole thing. You don’t deserve to be ghosted suddenly because you hurt my feelings without you even really knowing why. I should’ve talked to you properly."

You bite your lip, feeling like you were suddenly going to cry.

You know it was the bare minimum, and even though he said you had nothing to be sorry about, you still feel oddly emotional about someone apologizing to you. You’d never been apologized to sincerely even when a lot of people have done you wrong and hurt you before. They always thought you didn’t care or just got over things quickly because apparently, people had the impression that you weren’t the type to feel anything.

"I like you a lot.” You blurt out.

It was stupid. It was so stupid to say that in the middle of this conversation, but your mouth was running faster than your brain and you couldn’t help it.

“Really?” Jungkook grins, and it was quite big. Your heart beats faster in your chest. “I really like you, too. Like, a lot. Probably more than you do.”

You meet his eyes finally. They hold such fondness for you, and you’ve always noticed. But you brush it away just as it shows. Regular, old, __. Always pushing away people who like her.

Right now, you’re berating yourself for pointedly ignoring that before, but his dark eyes serve as a distraction. They were so ominous and so big and looked like they had the stars in them. And he was so handsome. Suddenly, your gaze falls to his lips and quickly trains to the mole under the bottom one. You’ve always wanted to kiss it but never did so because… because, well. It would be weird, right? But then you remember that Jungkook always kisses that mole in between your chest...

You blush at the thought and look away.

“That’s nice.” You said, not really knowing how to respond.

Jungkook chuckled and twisted himself to look forward again, at the TV playing Legally Blonde.

It was like that for a while and you found that the weight you’ve been carrying all week on your back felt like it’s been lifted, finally.

This night was going really, really well.

And so well it went.

Legally Blonde ended and you and Jungkook somehow ended up being closer. So close that his arm just found its way around your shoulders, your leg across his, his other arm wrapped around that leg to pull you impossibly closer to him onto the next film.

It’s been half an hour into the new movie but if you were honest, your brain wasn’t really on it. It was on how Jungkook held you delicately, his mouth pressing kisses on the crown of your head occasionally, almost absentmindedly. Your thoughts were filled with the soft, gentle caresses of his hand on your leg, and how you would feel his eyes even when you weren’t looking. It was all so tender and just so, so incredibly nice.

When you yawned, Jungkook immediately checked on you with a light chuckle.

“Sleepy?” He asks.

You shake your head but another yawn forced its way out of your mouth again. You let your head fall dramatically on his chest as he laughed.

“I gotta go…” you said, thinking that it’s probably late as hell and dark outside. But you found that you really didn’t want to. The material of his hoodie was so soft and his presence was so calming and it sounded undeniably cheesy but you wanted to be held by him a little more.

“You could stay."

That made you look up at him.

"Huh?"

"You can stay here, if you want. Sleep over."

"Oh."

A flash of hesitation on his beautiful face.

"Only if you want to, of course. I’ll drive you home if you wanna go.” He offers quickly, as if embarrassed to even suggest the thing he said earlier.

But you did want to stay. But… he never stayed over at your place. You didn’t let him and he never expressed a little bit of desire to do so, anyway. Would it be unfair if he never slept over at yours but you would at his now? What did your conversation today change? When he said “I like you”, did that mean it was okay for you to stay the night?

“Uhm, I’d like to stay here, if it’s okay with you.” You said, throwing your inhibitions away. There was no room for more denials in your heart.

Jungkook’s bright grin made your worries subside. He definitely wants you to stay as much as you do.

“Okay."

"It’s okay for you? Sorry, I don’t have a lot of pillows…” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you sheepishly.

You waved him off. “It’s fine. Hey, come here now."

Jungkook did a poor job of hiding a big grin again as he slid on the bed with you.

When you twisted yourself so your back was facing him, about to reach for your phone on the night stand to see if Nayeon replied to your text telling her you wouldn’t be home until morning, Jungkook also did the same and wrapped his arm around your waist, basically spooning you.

And you realized that oh, he’d mistaken you for wanting to be a little spoon…

But it was cute. And you really like him holding you, so you pretended it was your intention all along and mentally noted to check your phone tomorrow morning.

"You smell good.” He said against your ear. You smiled at the way it tickled a bit.

“I don’t think I do anymore, but thanks.”

You showered right after coming home as the game ended but that was many hours ago, so surely Jungkook must just be speaking nonsense. And anyway, he was the one who smelled nice because he did just get out of the shower. He smelled like that certain apple scent he always did.

“No, really. Like flowers. I always liked that about you."

"Eh, it’s probably just my bath and body works body wash."

"Really?” You felt him sniff up your arm and you giggled. That reaction encouraged him to do it more until his nose reached your armpit. It tickled so much that you thrashed and turned and bit his arm. His laughter got louder as you did so, but you only pouted at him.

“Okay, sorry, sorry,” Jungkook said but he didn’t look like it. You didn’t expect it but he suddenly kissed your forehead. Your eyes reflexively closed at the feel of his lips on your skin.

You open them once again only to see Jungkook staring into your eyes again, quite intensely that you feel like he was there looking right into your soul.

“I missed you.” He whispered, his hand that was around your waist tightening, the other clearing up your face from stray hairs.

“I really missed you too.” you said as sincerely as you could. Because you really did, and you hope he could feel it and believe it just like you did his words.

A few seconds after and then his lips finally touched yours and it was such a relief that you sighed against them. It was a slow kiss. Sweet and too short but you didn’t really mind when Jungkook looked at you again like you hung the stars in the sky.

“Let’s sleep baby, turn around for me again.” He said and you wanted to reprimand him for ordering you around but you didn’t really feel like you needed to. You didn’t really have complaints about being the little spoon in this cuddling session, anyway.

It was only about a minute of silence when Jungkook suddenly spoke.

“Babe, I know I’m probably going to ruin this wholesome moment but can I hold your boob while we try to sleep?"

And you couldn’t help but laugh because who wouldn’t.

"Go for it.” You said, settling against his chest, getting more comfortable. Jungkook was only too happy to let you, letting out a low happy hum as he held you tighter, another hand wandering inside the worn out shirt you were wearing that he lent you for the night.

The contact was cold to the touch at first, but when he gave you a squeeze and finally rested his hand over there, it got warm eventually.

Having a weight on top of your boob while sleeping was definitely a new concept for you, but you found that it was oddly comforting.

There was nothing sexual to it, not really. And you thought Jungkook didn’t really have any sexual intentions to begin with.

It was just nice to have his hand on your breast.

“So soft,” Jungkook whispered at some point and you just chuckled in between putting yourself in slumber.

It’s been hard to settle in bed peacefully the previous nights after that debacle weeks ago, but that moment, you slid to dreamland quite easily; and you were certain it was due to Jungkook’s warm body all over yours.

EPILOGUE

( ONE MONTH LATER )

You have awoken in a feverish feeling brought by the dream of a certain man drawing all kinds of shapes on your clit with his skillful tongue. At first, the sensation felt far away, like it was just a distant memory, but you suddenly feel a seemingly too real grip on your thighs and a tentative swipe over the length of your nether region.

When you blearily open your eyes, the sunlight intruding through the seams of your room, you caught a sight of a very real man’s head in between your legs, his dark hair pulled by a headband as he determinedly pleasures your pussy.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, blindingly reaching for his head.

He hums in your pussy, and it sends a jolt right up your spine. He felt you jumping a little, and that earned a chuckle from him. The vibration of it in your aching heat made your legs quiver.

“Good morning, baby."

It was a little disorienting to wake up to Jungkook eating you out so early in the morning, but the pleasure overrode it as you throw your head back on your soft pillows, twisting your face to the side and burying it on the fluffy material as Jungkook sucks on your clit, his finger teasing over the lips of your pussy.

”Ah, that feels so good…" you moan, thrashing on the bed at the delight brought by his tongue. But Jungkook’s strong hold kept your legs wide for him to have complete access to your wet cunt which he’s licking like it was a meal he’s always wanted to have.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he said, beginning to place open mouthed kisses on your pussy that delivered delirious shivers all over your body. He emphasized his sentiment by bringing two fingers in your hole, sliding them in and out quite easily as you felt yourself gushing every second from his actions. “So wet. You love this, angel? You like what I’m doing?"

All you could give him was a pathetic little whimper that you hope he understood as he didn’t bother to wait for your response and proceeded to wrap his mouth on your clit again, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud with the steady way his fingers slipped in and out of you, lewd squelches filling the otherwise quiet room except for the chirping bird outside.

And it sounded oddly poetic.

So peaceful. Oh, to wake up like this everyday.

Your grasp on his hair tightened, bringing his face closer to your pussy that you even got a hold of his headband, but you didn’t care. All you could think about was how delicious Jungkook is speeding his fingers in your entrance, long and bony digits touching every ridge of your pussy, slowly but surely sending you to your edge. Your breath quickened every second passed, and now you could say you were fully awake.

Jungkook broke away from you and you were just about to reprimand him about it when he suddenly licked a long, slow stripe over the wet length of your entrance and you cried out.

You were nearly brought to tears when he dove in your core again to repeat his actions from earlier, but this time, he went for messy. So sloppy; his head moving around your pussy, sucking your juices with enthusiasm and making your arch your back on the mattress, his finger rubbing your clit to bring you to your orgasm.

And he did successfully bring you to it. He did with what seemed to sound like a painful groan of your name from his throat, a husky sound that made your pussy and legs quiver. But that didn’t stop Jungkook from lapping at the cum that dripped out.

You let out a big breath, making yourself bounce on the bed as you fell to it. Exhausted. Spent.

"Kook,” you nudged Jungkook with your foot to his bicep because he was doing that thing again.

“Wanna clean you up."

You roll your eyes. It was so counterproductive but you let him be for awhile, relaxing on your back as he quite literally slurped the gush that came and is still coming out from you. That was why him "cleaning you up” was useless.

“Let me suck your cock.” You said, nudging him again. Jungkook peeled his head from between your legs and looked at you, and you nearly moaned at finally seeing his face. He looked insanely hot with his hair around his sweaty hearline pulled by that head band, but the sheen gloss all over his mouth to his chin made you feel just a little shy.

“Really?” Jungkook asked again, eyes wide, like he was a kid about to receive his gifts from Santa on Christmas morning.

You only hummed, bringing your body in a sitting position. Jungkook grabbed your waist, about to kiss you, but you pushed him on the bed and slid your leg over his thighs, leaning down to make quick work of pulling his boxers down that had a little wet patch on the front and a huge boner that was just begging to be freed.

Jungkook sighed when you get a hold of his length, not wasting time to tease because as much as you wanted to, you were impatient to taste him and make him cum.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook curses as you pumped his cock, your thumb pressing on his leaking tip. “You’re so pretty, baby."

His groan is elongated as you finally put him in your mouth. You make yourself comfortable by kneeling inside his spread legs, leaning down closer to his crotch and twisting your head to the side so that you could gather your hair in one side. It was always hard to reach deep, but you make do of your hand, twisting your fingers around the remaining length that your mouth could not take.

It didn’t take too long for Jungkook to shake and start speaking sweet nonsense in the wake of his impending orgasm, probably because he had been holding back since he ate you out. But you worked as hard, sucking on his tip, brushing your fingers over his balls here and there, pumping his wet cock in your hand, ignoring the tears that’s forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Baby, I’m cumming,” he warned, holding the back of your head to try and get you off but you insisted and let him release in your mouth.

Jungkook hissed, and you leaned back to jerk his cock for any more cum, swallowing the one in your mouth that you felt had gotten to some parts of your face so you try to lick over your mouth, tasting cum there. He was still cumming, though, just a little, it spurting on your chest and chin.

You giggled as Jungkook groaned. When you were sure you milked him dry, you let yourself flop on his naked body, draping yourself over it even though he was kind of sweaty and sticky… but you don’t really mind. You were just gonna shower later.

“You’re a minx.” He said, chuckling, his arm going around your waist and the other resting over one bare ass cheek.

“I live to make you suffer.” you replied, rubbing your cheek against his chest then pressing kisses to it.

“You’re winning."

That made you laugh.

After a while, you remove your head on his chest and look down on him. He arches a brow, waiting. And then you dropped your mouth to the mole under his bottom lip. You giggled because Jungkook wasn’t expecting it, shown by the confusion on his face. Before he could say anything, you lock your lips with his, sighing when he reciprocated your kiss right away.

The kiss takes a U-turn as Jungkook flipped you over so he was the one hovering over you now, hands roaming around your body sending tingles all over your spine to your toes and heat between your legs as he squeezed your breasts.

He squished the both of them in his huge palms, and you feel his cock twitch against your thigh when he did so, so as the gush of wetness coming from your pussy as he finally dropped his mouth to suck on your pebbled nipples.

”___, are you—oh my god I’m so sorry!“

Jungkook and you quickly looked over your door, catching Nayeon just as she scrambled to close it.

"Shit.” You hissed.

Jungkook looked at you. And then you both get off of each other, him going for the sweats he’d folded on a swivel chair in your room, and you putting on your robe and messily tying your hair in a bun with a hair tie.

“I’m just gonna go outside and talk to her…” you trail off, watching as Jungkook puts his pants on.

“Okay,” he went over to you, holding your face and leaning down to kiss you. “Sorry."

You licked your lips as he broke the kiss, couldn’t help but smile.

"It’s fine."

When you went out, Nayeon is at the kitchen drinking water. When she saw you, you gave her an awkward smile.

She frowned. "I’m really so, so sorry, ___. I swear I didn’t know you had someone over. I just got back from the overnight study group I texted you about last night and it’s 8 am so I thought I could wake you up for class."

You find yourself smiling genuinely at her explanation. You wave her off and went over to grab a drink of water as well.

"It’s fine. Our prof actually emailed us last night that our 8 am class was gonna be cancelled today so technically my first class is gonna be at 10. But I’m also supposed to be getting ready, so…"

Nayeon hummed and drank more of her water.

You were just waiting for it. You knew she was so gonna ask you about it. You were kind of nervous but you found that you actually didn’t care that much to tell her all about Jungkook.

So when she finally did ask, you only looked sheepish.

"So, Jeon Jungkook, huh?"

You nod.

"I should’ve known!” Nayeon exclaimed. “You were suddenly interested about basketball and– no, I’m not gonna lie. I did not expect that."

You bit your lip as you hid half of your face behind the rim of the glass. "Yeah…"

Nayeon suddenly narrowed her eyes at you, and you hold yourself to prepare for what’s next.

"He was your sneaky link all this time?"

Your eyes widened. "No!” But then you quickly remembered that, technically, he was. But… “but not really. I mean, not anymore?"

You weren’t sure, though. Your relationship with Jungkook for the past month had undergone a shift. You were purely fuck buddies before, and now you fuck and see each other for more than that. You sleep over almost twice a week at his place, have movie nights. He let you know about this game Animal Crossing and you’ve been obsessed since so sometimes you really just go over his place to play it. (Your island was seriously becoming pretty.) Also, you started grabbing lunch regularly these days in his car and go on what you can call dates if both your schedule aligned and it’s not that you were actively keeping other people from knowing about this sudden change in your relationship, including Nayeon, it was just — your time together was really just spent for pure enjoyment with each other. It was just like: if people saw, then they do.

Despite that, a label still wasn’t put to it.

You don't mind.

"Oh, so–your boyfriend?!” Nayeon’s tone is laced with surprise, and you flinched at hearing the word boyfriend but you shrugged it off.

“Uhm, it’s very new.” Was what you replied. It was the only thing you could offer, honestly.

Your friend looked at you for a few seconds and then nods, as if understanding – what? you have no idea – and then turned to the direction to your room.

You see Jungkook popping out from your door when you looked over.

“Hi, Nayeon."

When he emerged, he’s fully dressed and it was a bummer that he’d taken out his head band. Whatever, you’d make him wear it later. It was really cute when he wore it.

"Ohh, here comes the sexy man."

The casualty of it threw you off a bit but then you suddenly feel grateful to Nayeon for not making a big deal about the whole thing.

So you laughed and joked, "Don’t say that! You’re going to stroke his ego."

Nayeon’s right eyebrow raised. "Oh, his ego is definitely getting stroked, alright."

Even Jungkook burst out laughing at the crude implications of her words, and you found the whole thing atrocious. Nayeon only shook her head, but she was smiling.

"Sorry for interrupting your time together, lovebirds. I brought something for breakfast but I don’t think it’ll be enough for two people.” She said, pointing towards a take-out bag on the kitchen counter.

“It’s fine, thanks Nayeon."

She waved you off. "I’ll just be in my room. Eat first before you do cardio, guys."

You huff out a laugh at her words again, and so did Jungkook. He walked towards you as Nayeon disappeared in her room, and you smiled at him as he did so.

Jungkook held your waist and pressed you a little to the refrigerator, but you have no complaints in the way he leaned down to share a slow and soft kiss with you.

"Breakfast?” He whispered, kissing your cheek. And then your nose.

You giggled, circling your arms around his neck. He hummed at the contact, like he’s always so content and peaceful whenever you touch him.

“I think I’ll just get coffee on my way to Uni.” you told him.

That made him frown, though. “That’s really not…” you arched your brow as you wait for him to finish his words. He sighed. “Okay. But at least eat some toast? I’ll make it for you."

You nod. "Okay. I’m gonna go shower first, though. I stink."

As if prompted, Jungkook quickly buried his face to the crook of your neck and whiffed out your scent, dramatically smelling you and then peeling his face away, saying, "Nope, still smell like flowers to me. But I agree, we need a shower."

"We?"

He gives you a serious look. "Yes. Water conservation is one of my goals this year."

You jab on his chest lightly. So stupid. But so handsome and cute that you can’t help but pull him close to you and kiss him again.

Suddenly, Jungkook grabbed your thighs and make you hold on to him as he carried you across the living room. You stopped your own squeal before you could scare Nayeon with it. Jungkook laughed at that and you slap his chest in retaliation.

He went straight to the bathroom and put you on the counter with all the intentions to keep making out with you by the way he was swirling his tongue deliciously against yours, hands squeezing your sides.

But you really had to shower.

He whined when you put your hands on his shoulders and broke free from his kiss, pushing him away a little.

"Don’t be a baby. Let’s shower,” you said, giving him a stern look. He looked petulant for a while, but then suddenly smirked. You narrowed your eyes, pretty sure he had dirty things in his head right now. “No funny business. You literally have class in an hour."

"I could make you cum in less than that."

"Jungkook!"

He laughed, kissing you. "I’m kidding.”

“Behave. Nayeon is here."

He only nodded and began taking his clothes off. You also removed your robe from your body, going over to the towel rack to hang it there. Jungkook stopped in his tracks and shamelessly ogled your naked form and you rolled your eyes, not waiting for him as you stepped in the shower first. He followed right after, smiling at you as he offered to wash your body.

Jungkook assured you he had no funny business in mind, but you didn’t really mind when his hands suddenly got grabby, when he told you that his hands could lather your body wash more effectively than your loofah just so he could massage your boobs in his soapy palms, staying a little too long over there. But you didn’t complain when his finger ghosted over your pussy, and you absolutely weren’t mad when he kissed you hotly as the shower ran and water soaked the soap suds out of your body.

In fact, you enjoyed it a lot when he pressed you against the wall while his strong arms held you tight as he fucked you open, gasping in your mouth, grunting about how pretty you were and how much you were such a good girl for him.

He spoke more nonsense in your ear when he turned you around, an arm tight around your breasts, his other hand gripping your waist as he slid his engorged cock in and out of you from behind while you tried to minimize the sound of your cries until you both came.

You know Jungkook knew his goal to conserve water was doomed from the very start, especially when you ended up taking a second shower because you felt sticky and just unclean.

But it felt great to come out of the bathroom and have Jungkook dressed the same time as you with the clothes he left in your closet from the other times he’s spent over here.

"I’ll see you later.” He pressed a quick kiss on your mouth.

“Okay,” he smiled and you failed to resist the urge to kiss him again for the last time. “I’m coming over to play Animal Crossing."

"You only like me for my Nintendo…” Jungkook jokingly narrowed his eyes at you and you laughed.

“It took you a long time to figure out?”

Jungkook pouts. “As long as you curl up in my lap while you play it, I can accept that.”

“You’re cute, baby. But you’re late to class, go scram.” You shooed him and he chuckled.

“Okay, kiss me again?” You did. Jungkook smiled and kissed you but on the forehead this time. “Bye, pretty."

You leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed as you watched him slowly disappear from your pathway with (certainly) a fond look on your face.

Blurring the lines with your fuck buddy might be cliche, and confronting it might have been hard, but you did it. And he was just as willing and honest with you about his feelings.

And it was worth it.

#fic: cn&bl #jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #bts smut #jungkook fluff #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader

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peachypinkygloss · 11 months

Text

call me later — jjk

Summer break is always your favourite period of the year, enjoying the fresh water of the pool and the sun kissing your skin. Everything's going great until a sudden boy appears in your life and becomes the centre of your world.

☼ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

☼ genre: strangers to fwb to lovers, summer break au, university au, smut

☼ word count: 2.5k

☼ warnings: kinda inspired by outer banks, rich kid!oc, jk's a munch, oc pushes jk away 😔, they're a bit awkward together lol, outdoor sex, unprotected oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, brief overstimulation, cum eating.

a.n.: don't get fooled... this isn't cherry!jk ik this one's a munch too but they're very different. you'll see 😉

The sunlight gently graces the skin of your face, enveloping you in a warm embrace, relaxing both your limbs and mind. It's around one p.m., the perfect hour to sunbathe by the pool and to reread the PLL series.

That's what you had planned for today, but you ended up doing something vastly different. Something a bit unpredictable and perverted... To your defence, this would have never happened if he hadn't decided to show up.

Technically, he didn't decide, he's just following the schedule your dad gave him, but still. This isn't entirely your fault; it takes two people to do something like this.

Your chest heaves rapidly as you're looking down between your legs, a hand pulling on his black locks while the other is thrown over your forehead. The lounge chair doesn't allow you to have much space, but you're handling it pretty well you think.

He's handling it well too because you can't imagine how his knees must hurt right now. They're probably all red, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's such a good boy. He knows you'd do the same for him, so he doesn't complain.

Your book is long forgotten on the ground beside your chair and the bookmark has been quickly secured between the pages the moment things have begun to be more intense.

You softly moan, your sounds accompanying the chirps of the birds and the far away noises of the neighbours mowing their lawns. This is public, yet very private. The fences prevent anyone from looking — and there are small chances of people hearing you, considering how big your backyard is and how far your neighbours are — but that doesn't mean nobody can't walk in on you two.

This was really impulsive of you.

Though it's risky and kind of stupid, you regret nothing. How could you when he's so skilled with his tongue...

"Are you usually that vocal?" Jungkook wonders, a stupid grin drawn on his pretty face. He rubs slow circles on your clit to compensate for the loss of his mouth, waiting patiently for your answer.

You let out a pleasant sigh, watching the pads of his fingers playing with your pussy, tattoos inked on his skin and chunky rings adorning his fingers.

You sink your teeth in your bottom lip, collecting your thoughts as Jungkook traces your entrance, dipping his fingers in just a little bit. He really likes to tease.

"When I like the guy," you say breathily, lazy eyes blinking up to stare at him. This only brightens Jungkook's smile and you're confused as to why it makes your stomach flutter.

"You like me?" He smirks, satisfied you've just confessed to liking him.

But you didn't. Or did you? Damn it.

You roll your eyes and grip his hair again. "Get back to business," you groan. You don't miss the laugh he lets out while you push down on his head, shoving his face back between your thighs.

He slides his fingers in completely and you gasp softly, loving how they stretch you out really well. You roll your hips slightly, getting used to the feeling of being full.

Jungkook parts his fingers, scissoring your insides to see how much he can stretch your pussy. He hums as if he was listening to it, and you don't know what it told him, but that was surely good advice because the next thing he does sends you over the moon.

He pumps his fingers in you and wraps his lips around your clit, stimulating two areas at the same time. "Oh, my god, Jungkook," you moan in pleasure, twisting his hair in your fist.

You have a hard time focusing on anything else than him, feeling the cool silver of his piercings brushing against your skin and your wetness dripping down your ass every time he thrusts into you.

You pass your fingers through his hair, your eyes not once looking away from his pink lips sucking on your poor little clit. His digits enter and exit your wet cunt at a rapid pace, eliciting moans and whines out of you, taking your breath away.

You clench your thighs around his head, feeling so overwhelmed right now, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all, on the contrary. Your legs hang over his large shoulders, shaking a little bit as he darts his tongue out to lap at your swollen bud.

He's changed the rhythm of his fingers, going in less faster — but still fast enough to make you roll your eyes back — to go deeper instead. Your juices drip down to his knuckles and he can't believe how wet you are, especially during a hot temperature like this.

"Mmmh," you hear him mumble against your pussy, completely obsessed with it. "Your pussy's so wet, baby," he observes, circling your clit with his thumb to look at you for a second. "Taste so fucking sweet."

You know it's just dirty talk, but you have to admit it has your heart beating excitedly in your chest. He smiles at you as you're a little bit dizzy, drunk on your sexual pleasure.

"Thanks," you reply and he chuckles, finding adorable how you become a bit stupid from getting fucked by his fingers. He curls them into you and you moan out when he brushes against your magic spot, knitting your eyebrows together. "There!" You exclaim, feeling Jungkook's hot breath hitting your pussy as he tilts his head down to look at his hand.

"Right there, baby?" He repeats to make sure he has found the correct spot. You nod repeatedly when you feel the pads of his fingers patting the spongy spot inside you, the knot in your stomach tightening. "Yeah? Okay, I got you, princess," he coos and continues sensually moving his fingers in you.

He focuses on his digits, calculating every single one of his movements. Your pussy quivers around him and he understands you won't last long if he keeps going at this rhythm, but that's exactly his goal, so he continues.

Then he comes to lick at your puffy clit, left alone for too long now. You whimper when he does so, flattening his pink muscle over your bud and moving it from side to side, still pumping his big fingers in and out of your sloppy pussy.

"Fuck, Jungkook!" You whine, being so close to your orgasm. He has such a good technique that works for you, it's so hard to not fall apart as soon as he puts his mouth on you. "I'm gonna cum," you warn him, voice breathy and kind of desperate at this point.

He hums against you, sending vibrations through your body. You curl your toes as you feel it burning at the pit of your stomach, ready to rip off and send you over the edge.

"Don't stop, please," you beg him, but you don't have to worry, he has no intention of stopping, especially not when your moans sound so sweet to his ears.

You're not sure if you should cry, moan or scream. Your little brain is so confused, never been that close to an orgasm all because of a man's fingers and tongue.

Where was Jungkook all those times you couldn't make yourself cum or you were left frustrated by useless men who had absolutely no idea how a pussy worked? He really should have come sooner.

This is it, it grows rapidly in your stomach, a sensation so intense and euphoric, exploding and passing through your entire body like an avalanche. Your moans are stuck in your throat and your fingers pull harshly on Jungkook's hair, trying to not fall too far.

Your legs shake beside his head and he groans when you clench around him, sucking his fingers in, his tongue gently stroking your clit as you slowly drive off your high.

He slips out of your pussy, quickly licking his fingers clean before pulling your legs apart wider. He lowers his mouth to your quivering hole, literally making out with it and drinking your arousal out of you to satisfy his thirst.

He opens and closes his mouth on your pussy while your legs are still shaking, coming down from your previous orgasm. "Jungkook, this is too much," you say in a whiny voice, gasping softly when you feel his tongue teasing your entrance.

It's only when he hears the sound of a car parking at the front of the house that he pulls himself away from your leaking sex. You look at him, as confused as he is. He hurriedly wipes his chin with the back of his hand and he picks up your bikini bottom from the ground, handing it to you.

He stands up as you put back on your bikini. "I thought you said my dad wouldn't come back until five p.m.!" You whisper-shout at Jungkook, passing your fingers in your hair, trying to detangle it and make yourself presentable — and not like you've just received head from the hot guy your father hired to mow the lawn and maintain the pool this summer.

"Yeah, I thought so too," he answers, guilty he may have misheard what your dad said to him.

You sigh, taking your towel and your book in hand, ready to go back in the house, but before you can Jungkook grabs your arm. "Call me later, yeah?"

You look up at him, surprised he just asked you that. Does it mean he wants... more? See you in another context than at your house?

You swallow, wondering if that's what you want. You guess you never considered boys could be interested in knowing you or hanging out with you after having sex. You didn't think Jungkook would want that either.

Your attention is brought to your dad when he enters the backyard, waving at Jungkook and you. "Hey, kids!" He yells from across the yard and you can't help but roll your eyes. He walks up to you two and you wish you could escape, but you don't want to get reprimanded by your dad after.

"Hi, sir," Jungkook greets him, smiling politely. "I did the front of the house like you asked," he explains, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I've cut around the patio, too."

"That's awesome, you did a great job, Jungkook," your father nods his head, clearly a sign that he's really proud of him. "How long did it take you?"

"One hour and a half, I'd say," he answers, not really sure when he got the job done since, well, he's been a little distracted by something else.

"Good. I'll go take my wallet, I left it in the truck," he points behind him and then glances at you, giving you a tap on the back. "You enjoyed the pool, honey? You applied sunscreen, right?"

"Yes, dad," you groan. You want one thing and it's to get out of this awkward situation as soon as possible. Your father then disappears, going to take his wallet to pay Jungkook.

This one looks back at you, sweet eyes laying on you. "So?"

"I'll call you later," you confirm, not giving him time to answer and going back inside.

·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡

You look around the convenience store, searching for energy drinks. When you find them, you open the fridge's door, hesitating between a Rockstar or a Monster. There aren't many flavours, but you know you definitely won't take one without sugar. You decide to settle for a Monster, Pacific Punch flavour.

Now for the food. You eye the tteokbokki, but also the spicy ramen. You should combine both. And take some for your father, too. He always has night cravings like you.

As you check the different brands of ramen, wondering which one you feel like eating the most, someone says your name.

"You didn't call me."

You turn around and your eyes widen when you see Jungkook standing in front of you. Your heartbeat accelerates and you don't know what to say.

Your plan was to hide in the house the next time he'd come, avoiding him seemingly the best idea you've thought about, but of course, he had to find you here.

You feel bad as he looks at you with disappointed eyes as if he actually thought you'd call, that you were different and not like the others. Turns out that you're not. You're exactly like them, exactly like the people who you grew up with and who you live with.

"Um, well, I..." You stammer, caught red-handed. You glance down, biting down on your lip, too much of a coward to hold Jungkook's gaze. "No, I didn't," you sigh, admitting your mistake. "I... forgot."

He only lets out a 'mh' and you're really embarrassed. Yes, it was childish of you, but you don't understand what he expected. He works for your dad, you don't go to the same university, you don't have the same circle of friends, you have nothing in common.

Yet, when you look at him, it's like he knows everything about you — every single one of your secrets and fears.

"You don't have your eyebrow piercing anymore," you comment suddenly, desperately searching for a way to make things less awkward, to redeem yourself or whatever that would make him stop looking at you like you're a bad person.

He touches his eyebrow as if to confirm his piercing's really gone. "Yeah, it was a bitch to disinfect," he shrugs and hides his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

"I really liked it," you say honestly.

The corner of his mouth tugs upward and you can't help but do the same, butterflies erupting in your stomach. "I've noticed." His eyes glint and your face heats up immediately when you understand what he's referring to.

Last time, you couldn't stop running your fingers over his face, touching his eyebrow piercing when he was kissing you. You don't know why you were doing that, but there was something that really fascinated you about it.

Fortunately, Jungkook didn't mind you touching him. He quite really enjoyed it, in fact.

When he doesn't say anything else, you quickly take two packs of ramen with the tteokbokki and your energy juice. You turn around and Jungkook's still there.

"Are you eating with someone?" He questions and he knows how it sounds, but he's only curious. If it's the reason why you didn't call, he wants you to tell him.

"Um, it's for my dad and me," you reply. "We're the kind to eat at like... one a.m.," you chuckle and he smiles at the sound of your laugh. "And you?" You ask back even though he's not holding anything other than his cellphone.

"Oh, just filling up the gas tank," he points outside where his car is parked. "But I might take a snack. Yours make me hungry."

"You should," you nod your head.

He sends you a faint smile before passing by you, walking to the other aisle. You watch him for a second, analyzing his outfit. Black baggy jeans, a graphic white hoodie and beige beanie.

You go pay for your items and it's only when you push the door that you get a glimpse of Jungkook walking up to the cashier. He doesn't see you so you exit the store, refraining yourself from looking back.

·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡

a.n.: hellooo you guys... 🤭

i had jungkook working for oc's dad in mind for likeee a long time and since it's summer, i finally found the time to write it... i have more planned for this fic (obvi because I wouldn't make it end like this 🫣), so this isn't just a drabble, it's more like a test to see if you're interested in this story. so tell me if you want it to become a lil series. ngl, i'm very insecure about this one idk why 😭 but let me know if you'd like to read a next part!

part 1: call me later ☼ part 2: call me soon ☾ part 3: call me tomorrow ☼

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader

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xxsabitoxx · 11 months

Text

xxSabitoxx Imagines/Drabbles Masterlist

╰┈➤ Return to Master Post

╰┈➤ Full Fic Masterlist

╰┈➤ Headcanon Masterlist

Updated Aug.12th 2023

Awkward Encounter | Gyutaro x AFAB Reader | FLUFF/SUGGESTIVE

Play Fight | Shinobu x AFAB Reader | SUGGESTIVE

Shit Talker | Sanemi x GN Reader | SMUT

Sanemi Falls In Love For The First Time | Sanemi x GN Reader | FLUFF

Rengoku Falls In Love For The First Time | Rengoku x GN Reader | FLUFF

Plush | Rengoku x Tengen x Wives x Reader | FLUFF/SMUT

Take it and Shut Up | Megumi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Stay Still | Sukuna x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Attention Please! | Tengen x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Caught in the Rain | Tengen x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Earn It | Shinobu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

First | Nobara x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Just For You | Inumaki x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Seven Minutes in Heaven | Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Seven Minutes in Heaven | Itadori x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Referring to Them as a “friend”| Giyu, Rengoku, Sanemi | NO SET GENRE

Dating Okkotsu Yuta | Yuta x GN Reader | FLUFF/SMUT

JJK and Your Habit of being Topless | JJK Characters x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Dating Rengoku (Modern AU) | Rengoku x GN Reader | FLUFF/SMUT/ANGST

Mornings with Sanemi | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Singer Shinobu | Singer Shinobu x AFAB Shy Reader | FLUFF/SMUT

Bathing with Giyu | Giyu x GN Reader | NO SET GENRE

Gojo & Geto Fighting for your Attention | Gojo & Geto x GN Reader | NO SET GENRE

Childhood Friends | Megumi x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

Winning His Heart | Akaza x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Dramatic Megumi | Megumi x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

His Favorite | Douma & Reader | NO SET GENRE

Irresistible | Akaza x AFAB Reader | SMUT

His Personal Assistant | Hawks x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

First Love | Kakyoin x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

No Escaping | Sukuna x AFAB Reader | SMUT

A Guiding Hand | Rengoku x NB Reader | SMUT

Tempest | Sanemi x AFAB Demon Reader | MILD DEAD DOVE /SMUT

Cravings | Sanemi x AFAB Pregnant Reader | FLUFF

The Fourth Wife | Tengen & Wives x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Mornings with Makio | Makio x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Mornings with Hinatsuru | Hina x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Mornings with Suma | Suma x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Smile | Megumi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

I Hate Him | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

Uzui Gang & Public Tension | Tengen x Wives x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Tengen & His Husband | Tengen x AMAB Reader | FLUFF/SUGGESTIVE

Reward | Muzan x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Loosen Up | Sanemi x Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Team Bucciarati & Walking in on you Changing | Bucci Gang x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

College Roommates Shinobu | Shinobu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Easy | Douma x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Cut | Aki x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Needy | Geto x AFAB Reader | SMUT

I Want a Baby | Tengen x AFAB Reader | FLUFF/SMUT

Experience | Kishibe x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Promise Me | Giyu x GN Reader | ANGST

Being Sanemi’s Tsugoku | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Sanemi at the Butterfly Estate | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Secret Relationship | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

Sanemi being Vocal | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Exploring with Sanemi | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | CRACK/FLUFF

Dating Dabi | Dabi x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Sanemi and his Newborn | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Urogi’s Sensitive Wings | Urogi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Personal Heater | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | NO SET GENRE

Sensitive Aizetzu | Aizetsu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Rengoku’s Nurse | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Twenty One | Rengoku x GN Reader | FLUFF/ANGST

Tengen and your Panties | Tengen x AFAB Reader | SUGGESTIVE

Kyojuro and his Newborn | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | FLUFF

Drunk Giyu | Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Drunk Tengen | Tengen x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Drunk Kyojuro | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Pissing off Sanemi | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SUGGESTIVE

Recoil | Haganezuka x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Meeting the Rengoku Family | Rengoku x GN Reader | FLUFF

Stalker Giyu | Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Pride Month Imagines | Tengen | Shinobu | Rengoku & Giyu

Pull Out | Rengoku x AFAB Reader | SMUT w/concerning themes

Lecture | Rengoku x AFAB Kocho Sister Reader | SUGGESTIVE/CRACK

Keeping Secrets | Giyu x AFAB Wife Reader | FLUFF

Never Mine | Geto x GN Reader | SMUT?/ANGST

Pheromone Perfume | Sanemi x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Guard Dogs | Satoru + Suguru x GN Reader | NO SET GENRE

Competition 15k special | Sanemi x Giyu x AFAB Reader | SMUT

Karoke 15k special | Satoru x Suguru x AFAB Reader | SMUT

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jeannineee · 5 months

Text

AOT men...dom, sub, or switch?

(ft. eren jaeger, levi ackerman, armin arlert)

author's note: did this for the jjk boys so i figure i would do it for them too.

warnings: smut, smut, and more smut. be warned.

Eren Jaeger: dominant

Eren Jaeger, who gets off on teasing you. Murmuring filthy words into your ear, touching everywhere but where you need him. He'll wait until you're begging before finally giving in. Once he does, he'll overstimulate you until you can't think.

"C'mon pretty. You can give me another. You wanted it so bad, right? One more."

Eren Jaeger, who loves controlling the pace while you ride him. Roughly gripping your hips as he thrusts up into you. Relishing in your moans, grunting as your nails dig into his chest. Watching you fall apart is his favorite pasttime.

"There you go, baby. Jus' like that. Feels so fucking good, huh?"

Eren Jaeger, who gets rougher when he's stressed or feeling jealous. Hands roaming along your back, deepening your arch, smacking your ass as he pounds into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. He'll give you the best aftercare, but in moment he's a different person.

"Pussy's practically sucking me in, hm? Bet he couldn't fuck you like this. Couldn't fuck you dumb like I can."

Levi Ackerman: dominant

Levi Ackerman, who loves having power over you. The way your eyes glaze over, the way you beg him so prettily. Always wanting more. He'll always give you what you want. But he'll make you work for it.

"You can do better than that. Don't test me. Use your words--good girl."

Levi Ackerman, who says the dirtiest things just to watch you shy away. How could you be so bashful when he's splitting you in half with his cock?

"Listen to how wet you are. Such a mess, aren't you? Hey--look at me, or I stop."

Levi Ackerman, who will make you touch yourself as he watches. No matter how much you plead with him to help, he won't. Not for a while, at least.

"No, not yet. Give me one more. One more, then I'll give you whatever you want."

Levi Ackerman, who won't let you come without permission. He loves your breathless pleas, loves your desperation.

"You gonna cum for me? Yeah? Wanna cum on my cock? Cum for me."

Armin Arlert: switch

Armin Arlert, who treats you like a princess both outside and inside of the bedroom. He loves and adores you, so why wouldn't he show you that as he fucks you senseless? Cock brushing against your sweet spot with each thrust, words of praise whispered in your ear as you climax.

"So fucking good for me, baby. You feel so good. Want you to cum for me, please, baby."

Armin Arlert, who can't help but be vocal. It doesn't matter the situation--he's moaning and whimpering in your ear, telling you how well you take him, how good you make him feel, how he can't wait to pump you full of his cum.

"Love the way you r-ride me, angel. So pretty like this. Keep going--fuck..."

Armin Arlert, who enjoys giving you the reins whenever you want. He's all yours, to use however you please, and he'll tell you as much. He lives for your encouragement and praise--he'll let you edge him for ages as long as you remind him how good he is.

"Ohhh, fuck, please--please, baby. Let me cum, please. I'll be good for you, please."

#attack on titan #aot smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #armin arlert smut #armin arlert x reader

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waterinz · 3 months

Text

⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡

Jjk men and their fav position

parings: s. gojo, s. geto, k. nanami, k. choso, f. toji, r sukuna.

warnings: smut, named positions, choking (sukuna), dacryphilia (toji and sukuna), pet names, praising (nanami, geto, gojo choso).

A/N: someone request something, PLEASE 🙏🙏

⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡

Satoru Gojo: 100% mating press

His sinister grin was the only thing apart of your blurred vision, the position, the friction, the pace, it would’ve been damn near impossible to not fall in love with the way he fucked you, if y’all hadn’t already been dating. The amount of will he has over your body is crazy in that position, him being vocal as hell doesn’t help but god… it’s hot as fuck, him moaning whimpering or saying some vile shit in your ears like “fuck-.. if she doesn’t stop sucking me in like this, i might come a-already.”, “such a good girl” and other dirty things…

Suguru Geto: Spooning

As someone that’s always tired, this is perfect for him. Just being able to slide it in as y’all are laying down is the most ideal thing for him. Geto is a simple man that takes sex as a way to relax, relieve stress and relax the tension in your muscles.. but even with all those benefits and a girlfriend that he nicknamed “Jack-rabbit” simply because she couldn’t go a week without some kind of fucking. But one day he wanted to try something different. He laid on his side, you infront of him, grinding on you. This position gave him free access of your ass, tits, neck, and pretty much the rest of your body too.

Kento Nanami: Cowgirl/ Reverse Cowgirl

Now we know this old man is OLD fashioned as hell, probably alive during the BC and CE era, but one thing about him was.. he loved to fuck aswell. He loved the sight of his dick sliding in and out of that cunt while also seeing that white ring of cum being formed.

Kamo Choso: 69

He def seems like the type to not want to take control or advantage of you but still wanting a way to please you, so if there’s a way he can be pleased, AND please you? He’s down for it. Choso is probably really skilled at eating the box :3. Kissin it, small soft bites, licking anything that leaks out. :3

Toji Fushiguro: Full Nelson (especially infront of a mirror.)

Toji seems like the type to manhandle you. Folding and contorting your body past it’s limits, fucking you in unspeakable positions you can hardly manage. That shit eating grin, visibly displayed in the mirror. Choking you too, I mean it’s easy access. He manhandles you to your wits end and at this point, its painful as fuck, but hot ad fuck too. And your tears visible in the mirror too makes it so much better, well atleast to him…

Sukuna Ryomen: Missonary

Now sukuna doesn’t have a favorite position, he thinks every position that allows him to restrain you is perfect. But if he had to pick just ONE, it’d be missionary. Just being able to watch your face contort into expressions is literally heaven to him, and do not get me starteddddd on if he was in the big boy form. Easy access kissing, being able to fully restrain you under his touch and weight. His smirk that is displayed on his face could make you tremble just at the sight. And your tears visible? Yeah he would go all outttt…

⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡

#waterinzwork🦈#geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru #gojo smut #geto suguru #nanami kento #nanami smut #choso kamo #choso smut #toji fushiguro #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #kamo ch

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hisunshiine · 10 months

Text

—in good hands | jjk [M]

💻 pairing: streamer!jungkook x female!reader 🫶🏻 au/genre: camboy au, smut 💻 rating: M 🫰🏻 wc: 1,500 💻 warnings: second hand embarrassment from your friend exposing your thirst for JK; explicit sexual content: masturbation, voyeurism, cum eating, fingering. 🫶🏻 summary: camboy!Tae helps convince his streaming/gaming friend Jungkook to try it out, especially when a mutual friend’s input (yours) sweetens the deal, and you’re more than ready to get your hands dirty helping him. 💻 an: thank you to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for beta reading when i needed a…hand. Hehehe. 💻 an 2: part of the @bangtanwritershq September 2023 “Big Boys” flash fiction writing event. request received from @colormepurplex2

“Stop staring, babe.”

Jungkook adjusts the volume on his gaming headset, unsure about what Taehyung could be talking about, but the attitude in his voice is apparent.

“Everything cool, Tae?”

“Yeah…”

He falls silent and Jungkook uses the grappling hook to bring Widowmaker above enemy lines before using Infrasight to show his teammates the enemies positions on the map. Climbing a bit higher, he takes a few opponents out with her assault rifle, and D.Va appears to his left on screen, using her fusion cannons to take out the rest.

“Fuck yeah! Good game,” Jungkook praises, but Taehyung remains quiet. Jungkook turns off the livestream he set up for the game and tries to check in once more with his friend.

“Tae?”

“Yeah, sorry, I muted, but uh, Hana wants to tell you something.”

Jungkook can hear as Hana takes the headset from his friend, and her light vocals replace her boyfriend's much deeper ones.

“Hey Kookie, have you ever thought about camming like Tae does? I mean, I’m skimming a few comments from the stream and you have more than a few viewers talking about your hands.”

Jungkook feels his cheeks grow warm at what Hana is implying. He knows about the thirsty viewers, the requests he gets to put his hands to better use. It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it—the pay alone could be quite good—he’s just a little shy.

“I’m not saying you have to, I just have a friend…you’ve met her a few times! Tae said you thought she was cute—ow! Anyway, she thinks you’re hot and enjoys watching you guys play and well…she’s interested in watching a different type of content if you ever decide on it. Okay, here’s Tae-Tae.”

Hana disappears as if she didn’t just insinuate that Jungkook should stream himself fucking his fist on camera because her friend thinks he’s hot. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. They're a match made in heaven if he’s ever seen one. Taehyung and Hana met when she won a contest through his livestreams, and they’ve been dating for a while. Jungkook bounces the idea around in his head as Taehyung takes back his headset.

Hana’s friend is pretty cute, not that Jungkook’s ever said that to her. It’s nice knowing that she’s attracted to him, because the few times they’ve hung out as a group he felt like they seemed to hit it off. Maybe…

“Hey, Tae, what platform do you use to cam, again?”

You can’t believe Hana, your so-called-best-friend, told Jungkook that you watch when he and Taehyung stream themselves gaming because you think he’s hot. Or that she let slip your little fantasy about watching him stream—playing with something else. You can’t be too mad at her though, because Jungkook messaged you on discord for your number the next day.

He’s shamelessly flirting, masking it by asking you to help him with his first ever non-gaming stream, and after texting for a few days, he asks if you can help him decide on some of the finer details—in person—as moral support before he goes live and to help him make sure to give his audience what they’re looking for.

Of course you agree, because spending time with Jungkook, helping him get into the mindset for the camming he is about to do sounds like exactly how you want to spend your Friday night.

Jungkook’s hands are sweating just a bit as he positions the camera in place. He’s waiting for you to show up at the agreed upon time, and though you aren’t late, he kind of wishes you would be super early, so he would stop overthinking.

When you finally knock on his apartment door, ten minutes early because you were overly excited and couldn’t linger anymore downstairs without feeling like a creep, you don’t expect to be met by him shirtless and in sweatpants. He looks a little frazzled, like he’s run his fingers through his hair too much, but it looks sexy paired with his rippling abs as he greets you.

“You look pretty,” he says, complimenting your choice of sundress as summer comes to an end. “I don’t know what to wear…I have these sweats, but I also have another pair of pants…make yourself comfy, I’m gonna try those on for you to see.” Jungkook had led you into his bedroom as he spoke, and he motions to his bed next to it, disappearing into his closet.

You glance around his room, taking in the set up he has for streaming and try to focus on how you can enhance the set for this type of streaming. You make a few changes to the orientation of the lights until you hear his soft footsteps pad back into the room. Turning, the sight in front of you is so heavenly, it’s sinful. It takes you a few moments to speak.

“Definitely wear the leather.” You wipe at your mouth in case some drool leaked from the corner. The white tee and the leather pants he’s squeezed his fit thighs into have you clenching your legs together—you aren’t sure if Jungkook notices or not, but you take a deep breath so you can get yourself together.

You reach for your purse. “Okay, I think you’re ready. You got this.”

“Um…can you stay while I go live?”

Jungkook’s fingers nimbly undo the single button on the black leather pants he’s wearing, making sure to peel back each side of the opening as he slowly reveals the divots in his hips, and the top of his hardening cock. He keeps sliding until the tops of his thighs appear and his cock springs free, bouncing slowly from the weight of his arousal.

You watch from your own phone seated on the edge of his bed, enthralled by his movements. The view is so much better than what you had hoped for, mostly because you were able to curate your wildest fantasy.

He reaches off camera for the bottle of lube, a self-heating KY Jelly that squelches lewdly into his hand before he sets it back down. The camera is angled so close that just his tattooed hand and cock can be seen, but you look away from your phone where you’re viewing the content for perfect placement when you feel his eyes burning into the side of your face.

Your phone falls to your lap, eyes entranced by his gaze on yours as his right hand begins a slow, wet glide down over the tip and along his shaft. When the edge of his pinky finger and palm reaches the base, he pauses briefly to give himself a tight, teasing squeeze, and lets out an orgasmic groan that taunts your throbbing clit.

Fuck. You want to take over for him—want to deepthroat him until he’s whining and then climb on top and ride him until he’s breeding you like the little cumslut you are. But for now, you watch from the best seat in the house as he pleasures himself.

His eyes are low, full of desire as he watches you, hoping you will return the favor and touch yourself, too. With each glide his grip makes, you feel your legs inching apart—if you were home, it wouldn’t even be a question of whether you would be joining in or not.

“I hope you’re touching yourself, too,” Jungkook’s voice is deeper than usual, breathy. He continues talking to his viewers as the numbers climb, but his eyes are on you. “In fact, I want you to. Want you spreading those pretty thighs apart for me, just like that.”

You follow his directives, unable to disobey.

“Don’t be shy, let me see.”

Quietly, you shimmy your panties down, glad you wore a dress that so easily allows him a view of your dripping pussy.

“Touch yourself how you want me to touch you, baby. Good girl.” Jungkook bites his lip, just for your viewing pleasure, as your fingers slip and slide through your lips, teasing your clit and taunting your opening. “Wait till I get my hands on you, I’ll make you feel so good.”

Your eyes follow the pattern he makes as he speeds up, tattooed fingers gripping himself tightly as he pulls his shirt up to reveal his abs, flexing as the pleasure builds.

A gasp from your lips sends him over the edge, opaque cum oozing over the ridge of his fingers as he fucks his fist through the high. You watch with eyes hooded as his tattoos become less visible, two fingers rubbing your clit furiously so you can follow him. You vaguely hear him say something else before he’s out of his chair, hands replacing yours as his body cages you onto his bed.

You wrap your fingers around his cum covered ones, sucking them clean before he dips them inside of you. You let out a whine as his fingers reach deeper than yours did, hips rocking for more friction.

“You’re in good hands, now, baby.”

Thank you for readinggg!!!! Hope you liked this! Read camboy!Tae's 3-part mini series here!

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shina913 · 2 years

Text

Satiated | JJK

Satiated

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞NSFW

Genre: established!relationship; PWP; smut; hint of fluff

Warnings: post-sex haze; OC is unable to finish; explicit sexual conversations; allusions to unprotected sex in a monogamous, established relationship; fingering; clit play; masturbation with a vibrator; nipple/breast play; dirty talk; JK is a giver

Summary: A week without Jungkook has you anxious to get him naked...but things don't work out quite as planned. Your body betrays you and you fall short. Will you finish the job yourself or let him help?

Word count: 1.5K+

A/N: This was prompted by a video clip from a podcast that I saw on social media the other day. I feel as if this scenario might hit close to home for some people and it's either never discussed openly or it just doesn't play out this way. Foreplay is so essential but there are a handful of times when you get way too excited and want to jump right into it with your partner. Anyway, all that to say that it takes a certain level of confidence, trust, and even love to be able to vocalize what you need from your partner. In turn, a good and loving partner will most definitely come through for you 😉

A/N2: This is un-beta'd so...I'm sorry for any typos 😥 Also posting this in honor of my first year of posting my writing on this site so I wanted a quick and dirty one-shot to celebrate that! 🍸

“Damn…” Jungkook croaks after he pulls out and he rolls off you.

He was breathless, chest rapidly rising and falling.

While he tried to regulate his pulse, you lay next to him, staring up at the ceiling and huffed. You were confused and annoyed.

He came but you didn’t.

It wasn't his fault, though. A minute ago, you were right there with him as fucked in and out of you. The familiar buildup from the pit of your belly and tightening of every muscle in your body, signaling that you were at the precipice of your orgasm. You told him as much when he asked you.

And then, right as the first spurts escaped him, the wind died down for you and you don’t know how or why. It’s like your orgasm just…walked out of the room. What the hell happened?

You and Jungkook normally took your sweet time when it came to foreplay. Teasing each other to no end until you were ravenous.

Tonight, he was coming back from a week-long business trip. All the while, you traded naughty selfies and voice notes when you were apart.

The morning of his flight home, you sent him a video of you with your hands down your panties.

Fuck…I can’t wait to be all over that pussy, he texted.

Minutes later, he sent you a video of himself jacking off in bed and cumming into his hand.

Save some of that for me later, you replied.

You were looking forward to him coming home. He was excited to see you and you were very, very excited to see him.

He barely got through the door and only managed to get one shoe off when you jumped him. You distantly hear his suitcase fall haphazardly to the floor when you move to the bedroom and leave a trail of clothing on the way there.

You were sopping wet once you were laid up in bed and his cock slipped in effortlessly. It was delicious the way he filled and stretched you out. He warned you that he might not be able to last long. You didn’t care and thought that you’d have a quick trigger, too.

But something got jammed up.

He turned his head towards you with that post-sex glow, which immediately dimmed when he saw the look on your face.

“What’s wrong? You okay?”

You hesitate but you were too perplexed to keep it from him. “I didn’t cum,” you confessed.

He sits up right away, brows furrowed at you. “Huh? Wait…I thought...“

“I swear, I was right there,” you immediately assured him. “And then it just…it was gone.” You were at a loss.

He leaned over you with a look of sheer determination on his face. “Well, we can’t have that. I’ll fix it right now!”

As much as you wanted to, your high was fading quickly. Even if you tried to hang onto it, it would take forever to get you worked up again.

You glanced down at his cock—he’d already gone soft. After cumming hard like that, it would also take him a while to get it back up again and your lady boner would have been long-gone. At which point, you might as well just sleep it off.

You reluctantly decline. “Hmm, no…You’ve had a long flight and you’re tired. Just go shower and I’ll finish up.” You roll over and reach into your drawer where you kept your goodies and pull out your vibrator.

You squeeze some lube on your toy, push the little power button, and it buzzes to life. Before you touch it to your clit he stops you.

He shook his head and hardened his expression. “Listen, I am not going to sit here and do nothing while you work on your nut! It doesn’t just hurt my ego but…I want us both to feel good.”

You pause the buzzing to answer him. “You did make me feel good. I really have no idea what happened. It’s like, I went from 0 to 60 and then my brain just slammed on the breaks.” You couldn’t hide your frustration with your body.

“C’mon, tell me what you want me to do. I can go down on you or…” He awaits your answer, always eager to please.

You ponder on it for a second. “Can you suck on my tits while I use this?” You gesture at the vibrator.

He smirks. “Anything you want, baby.”

You push the button again to resume the buzzing. He pulls the sheet off you to expose your naked form then laid back on his side, moving closer to you.

When the toy brushes your clit, you let out one long, drawn out moan. He then dipped his head and wrapped his mouth around a nipple.

“Oh, fuck…” Your head sunk deep into your pillow as your senses ignited.

“Want me to talk you through it?” He asks in between licking and sucking.

“Hmmmm…yes,” you breathed out while you circled the toy around your nub.

“Feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah? You like when I suck on your tits,” he asks with a mouthful of breast. You look down at him and watch his cheeks hollow while he draws your flesh in.

“Yes,” you moaned. His teeth nip at the unfurled tip, sending a shiver down your spine.

He reached down to push your thighs further apart. You gasped when he slid two fingers deeply. “So wet…and tight,” he rasped in your ear.

All you could do was focus on his voice. Coaxing, urging your orgasm back to the surface.

You whined at the all-out assault from your vibrator and his mouth alternating between your breast and neck. With your climax bubbling, you turn up the setting on your toy and rub circles over your clit. His fingers burrowed, massaging the fleshy bundle of tissues within your core.

With each stroke of your vibrator on your clit, his fingers kept up their steady assault while your hips bucked against his hand. You felt everything within you tighten.

He continued to encourage and praise you. Each word pushes you closer to the brink.

You have the best tits… I could suck on them all day…

God, I love how wet you are… Look at the mess you’re making on my fingers…

You look so fucking sexy like this… Gonna cum hard for me, hm?

Finally, the knot within you snaps. At the first jolting contraction of your core, your spine arched off the mattress, and you let out an ear-piercing cry. His mouth was on yours in an instant, swallowing your moans of pleasure. His fingers stroked at the roof of your center, further intensifying your climax.

Your legs quaked and your back, the orgasm draining all of the strength from your muscles.

You come to when the buzzing stops. Jungkook tosses the toy off to the side and your eyes flutter open. You look over at him leaning up against the headboard sporting a huge grin…and raging hardon.

“Oh my god…“ You feel a pang of guilt. “J-just give me two seconds and I’ll suck you off.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he laughs.

You felt bad leaving him high and dry. “But…I can give you a hand?” You licked your lips and cock a teasing eyebrow at him. Even though your body feels like jelly, you reach out to touch his cock but he grasps your wrist gently to stop you.

“No, baby. I’m fine, really,” he says decisively. You watch him get up from the mattress and slide the sheets back to cover you up.

“Are you sure? You just gave me a mind-numbing orgasm. I feel like I need to repay the favor,” you insist.

A hearty laugh boomed from his chest. “I’m not keeping score! Besides, when did we start owing each other for sex?”

You look at him oddly, thinking he was punking you. Guys typically weren’t just content watching a woman orgasm. They’d want to get their own, too. Wasn’t it always a give-and-take deal?

Still sensing your skepticism, he marches back to you, grabs your face in his hands, and kisses you deeply.

When he pulls away, you’re left in another heady daze. “Hey…I got mine and I wanted to make sure that you got yours. Simple as that!”

He brushed your chin and gazed into your eyes to reassure you. “This shouldn’t be a tit-for-tat thing, okay?”

After a few seconds, you relent and nod softly. “Okay.”

“Good girl!” He plants another chaste kiss on your lips then gets up from the mattress again to start towards the bathroom. You lay on your side and watch his taut ass cheeks walk away from you.

You sighed dreamily. “Damn…How’d I get so lucky with you?”

He called out past his shoulder after grabbing a towel from the linen closet. “Trust me, I feel lucky that I get to help you cum like that. Shit…I’d replay that in my head over and over!”

You giggle softly once he disappears into the bathroom. Seconds later, you hear the water turn on. Even though he said not to feel guilty about it, you couldn’t help but still feel restless.

Not to mention that you couldn’t get his hardon out of your mind.

Soon, the ache built up between your thighs again. Biting down on your lower lip, you kick the sheets off and pad across the room. You were on a mission.

He looks up from underneath the cascading water to find you pulling the glass door open to step in with him. You’d take it real slow for this round…you had a lot of time to make up after all.

Crossposted on AO3 | Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @deepseavibez @itdoesntmatterwhy @yu-justme

#bts fan fiction #jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bangtanbathhouse #btswritingcafe #btshoneyhive #btscarnivalnet #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jjk smut #satiated x jjk

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gigislesbo · 7 months

Text

↳ prettiest || jjk gojo drabble

╴where gojo shows you how pretty you are

╴word count: 300

╴pairing/dynamic: dom!gojo , sub!reader

╴content warning: smut like barely no plot, female prns, made with afab body in mind, mirror sex (a mirrors mentioned twice but whatever), begging from reader, pet names, cussing, might be ooc!gojo idk, umm idk what else.

╴requested: no

╴a/n: english isn’t my first language so if there’s grammar errors i apologize. -this is kinda bad cause im rusty and havent written smut in MONTHS but do enjoy.

↳ GOJO

gojo, who wants you to know how beautiful you are by the only way he knows you respond to, which is pleasure.

in front of the mirror, he takes his time exploring every inch of your body, his fingers tracing your folds and teasing your sensitive clit. as you squirm with pleasure, he forces you to watch yourself, to see the desire in your own eyes reflected back at you.

his gaze is predatory and hungry for you, and you can't help but feel a sense of surrender creep upon you. "go'… gojo'- move, please.. please move.” you whimper out as you beg him to move, to take you to the edge of ecstasy, but he stops, teasing you with his control. the anticipation is almost unbearable, but you're willing to do anything to please him.

but begging isn't what he wants; he wants you to see yourself and truly understand how stunning you are. with one hand guiding your head forward as a way of saying 'keep lookin' at yourself in the mirror', and you do exactly that watching as he disappears between your legs, his tongue working its magic. being able to watch gojo pleasure your pussy was something that just made you more vocal. you moan and writhe, “shi shi-t.. fuck, fuck, fuck,” your moans becoming higher pitched telling him you’re not far from release.

you then hear him talk, sending vibrations through you, causing chills to course through your body.

“baby, come on, say it. tell me you're the most beautiful thing in this universe; come on, you can do it,” he says to you once again, reminding you of why he suggested this position in the first place, he wanted to show you you’re stunning but also fully his for the taking.

The sensations overwhelm you, and you can't help but respond with crying out from all the pleasure. gojo then moves to your neck, lavishing it with kisses that only intensify the pleasure, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

your head falls back against his shoulder, nearly screaming as thunderous waves of euphoria pass through you, setting your veins ablaze with electricity. He stays there, perched right against your neck, whispering praises as if he didn’t have you crying his name.

“now, did you learn something?” he quietly uttered, soaking up your mewl when he pulled out, fingers drenched in your essence and chest shaking to catch your breath along with your head nodding to his statement.

Just then, you feel it—the painfully apparent tent in his sweats.

“What’re we going to do about this, hm? going to fix it, pretty girl?”

╴a/n: lmk if i should make a part 2 or smth anyways WELCOME BACK TO ME!

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taegularities · 1 year

Text

candles & flames: steam | jjk (m)

chapter III: steam

Summary: As you travel to unveil secrets, you slowly, surely, find your way back to Jungkook. The final act starts now.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: enemies to lovers, royal!au; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: talks about hook-ups, arguing and fighting, tears, a very bad uncle, (mention of past) minor character death, jk is hurting, tension, misunderstandings, anger, a slap..., revelations; explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, grinding, brief cockwarming, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, teasing, dirty talk, tiddie sucking, he just loves her tatas, slow and rough sex, bits of sub!jk :D and then dom!jk, big dick jk, he comes on her tummyyy, some giggly sex, feelings !!, jk is very vocal, begging, praises, super brief pain kink (?), multiple orgasms. lmk if i forgot something :’) ➳ wc: 34.3k what the actual fck ➳ a/n: here goes the last one. thank you so much for all the love and support, guys. i adore you so much 👑🤍 ➳ a/n2: this is part 3 to my mini-series candles & flames !! find the mpost below<3

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

How long have you been sitting on the cushioned seat and forcing your drooping eyelids to remain open now?

Hours must have passed, because the sun you squinted into only a while ago has set now. The red, orange and yellow hues of dusk are giving way to nearly pitch darkness; it’s time to find an inn for the night soon.

Perhaps you should forward the suggestion to the rider.

Preferably before you fall asleep on your rather uncomfortable spot; or at least before the unease deriving from the hours you’ve travelled drives you insane. Either way, you need to lay down — catching yourself from falling sideways has become exhausting.

In hindsight, it’s surreal that you’re here at all, watching the moon ascend so far from home.

If your parents knew about your true whereabouts, they’d probably lock you in your room. Guard you from yourself, unlike you, who dove head-first into… whatever this is.

But you were lucky; only half-expected their calm response. Of course you didn’t think they’d buy your lie when you crafted it so carefully. Or perhaps, they were focused enough on your joy with the former beloved Duke’s son to not mingle.

Either way… You’re certainly not visiting the countryside with Jungkook, and he’s surely not showing you the fields and sunsets at a stranger place. A mansion you’d move into if you ever got married.

It’s usually not quite appropriate for a lady to travel alone with a man she’s not even engaged to; in your time, pretty much unheard of. But somehow, they trust you to not ruin your own future. They trust in true love, in your relationship.

Funny, because they have a lot more faith in you than you do yourself.

Which is why you feel worse about lying. Your words are what your parents know to be true. And what you know to be fabricated.

Especially because you’ve been dodging thoughts about your blurry future; Jeon Jungkook is an uncertainty like nothing else.

But considering what occurred at the cemetery, and how intense your desire to seek the truth is, you truly did not have any other choice.

Fear had shook his body, and the tremble had yet to subside.

Your nerve-wracking request was still sinking in when his already big eyes spread a little more. He looked younger like this — confused, scared, inhabiting a million thoughts he couldn’t articulate.

As you saw his armour cracking, you wanted to drop yours, too. His spiralling mind demanded arms around his body; some solace to alleviate the pain he’d been carrying with him for so long now.

On the cold bench you sat, you scooted closer. You hoped that the warmth you emanated reached him, in case the heat of the summer didn’t. Something in the vast black of his eyes changed, though it wasn’t enough.

So you tried again, as carefully and kindly as you could, “Can you tell me about her? His daughter?”

He started mumbling something then, and silenced soon again. You think you remember his focus fizzling; his eyes unfocused. The panic the situation triggered calmed down a fraction; and when his tired eyelids seemed to droop again, you thought you were losing his attention.

But then, he licked his lip. Let his shoulders fall and said, “Her name is Suhana. And she’s an illegitimate child.”

Your heart dropped the moment that very first fact did.

For some unfathomable reason, something deep in your soul had already figured as much — if she wasn’t a reminder of something that society deems a sin, she’d be here, right?

Of course she was his illegitimate child. Somewhere far away, a decade-old secret, treasured carefully.

You nodded, a hand on his, pressing down a little to reassure him.

Observing him closely, he looked like he didn’t quite understand how to confide in people. He was struggling for words. Searching for trust. Hesitating to spill his knowledge, thinking about each word he said.

You whispered, “I’m listening, Kook. Only I am listening.”

As if on cue, his gaze wandered through the room. As if to check whether you were telling the truth.

And when he’d made sure of it, some of the child-like fear diminished.

He blinked rapidly, full lower lip jutting out, before his gentle voice stuttered, “She— no one knows about this but my mother, brother and me. Not even his sons…”

You weren’t certain how smart it was to voice what you knew, but you figured that you needed to destroy all the walls you’d built against him, if you wanted him to do the same.

“And my father, it seems,” is what you answered then.

Which, as much expected, surprised him.

“What?”

“Your uncle is his client,” you explained. “My father and a handful of people at the bank know about this, because he needs them to know. Because of all the money he sends forth.”

Jungkook’s wonder fell; it made sense to him now.

He agreed before he continued, “Right. He sends that money. We have warned him before that the amount is too large. That the town and our family needs it, too. But he’s bull-headed.”

You kept nodding slowly. Understandingly. It kept him going.

“Her mere existence is a sin, in theory. But he’s always loved her. Not enough to travel and see her, but enough to send that very love from afar.”

It’s cruel how people are able to twist the definition like this.

In the matter of weeks, you had learned that affection isn’t a straight road, and that not every relationship leads to the same goal. Sometimes, paths diverge: some end in what you’ve always imagined about love; others are far darker.

Jungkook had turned love into something hopeful for you before he’d painted it black; and now that you were here, feeling the same sparks of hope again, its colour was slowly returning again.

But his uncle? He wouldn’t be able to conceptualise that emotion. Not when those gestures of his were what he imagined to be valid in love.

You asked, “Where does she live?”

A curious mind is hard to tame.

Since the desire to solve this riddle had unleashed in you, your brain kept forming ideas. And right now, you could see one materialising so clearly.

He, however, couldn’t just yet.

Because obliviously, still sporting sweet eyes and a defeated expression, he answered, “Somewhere a little bit far from here. It takes a while. I think to remember she lives with her mother Jiyoo… However, I have never seen her before.”

You nodded. “Seemingly, she does not receive the money at times.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “my uncle assumes it gets lost on the way. But how would that be possible?” He clicked his tongue in mock; a hint of a lopsided smirk floated over his lips. “Or that Jiyoo never sends a letter back, so he may send more. He’s not very fond of her, but Suhana is close to his heart.”

You formulated a possibly stupid question; you could already foresee what he might answer, but you guessed it couldn’t hurt to make sure. You needed to collect as much information as you could.

“You’ve never written to her, either?” you asked.

He clicked his tongue. “No.”

“Did she? Write to you?”

“Never,” he said. Another dead end. So that was all he knew about her; she was a true stranger to him. Which he confirmed, “I doubt she knows of my existence at all.”

She probably didn’t. After all, the Duke didn’t have a logical reason to introduce someone who wasn’t supposed to exist to a nephew he couldn’t stand.

A pity. Who knows where Jungkook could’ve been today if he’d had proper company to grow up with?

But the mystery that she is, the money she receives, and the fact that she never got curious enough to reach out… to travel out. Perhaps it was just you — but the situation felt odd to you.

You pulled your hand back, lifting all ten fingers to your face. If your mother had seen you rubbing your flawless face like that, she would’ve scolded the soul out of you. But the stress and the lack of knowledge were frustrating.

Fear was creeping into the crevices of your nervous heart.

Standing from your spot, you wrapped your arms around your torso. The sleeves of your dress were too thin; you were shivering, either from the chilly room or the tension.

Your eyes scanned the Latin letters and the tomb again, and when you turned back to Jungkook, dark, round eyes were staring up at you in question.

“I don’t know, Jungkook,” you murmured. “This entire letter exchange, the— the entire relationship are strange to me.” You squinted your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “I mean. He never travels to see her? But accuses Jiyoo of such a thing?”

Jungkook already knew of the cruelty one man could trigger, and the realisation pricked your heart.

Because as you spoke, narrating a father’s tainted love, Jungkook didn’t even flinch.

Not a muscle of his face contorted, and you immediately knew that he’d gotten used to the pain.

Perhaps his uncle’s existence in his young life still gutted him, but he just couldn’t physically react to it anymore. You didn’t know… You wanted to know. But you also didn’t want to.

It hurt when he shrugged, pressing his lips together. The mole underneath gave him a pure, sweet look, and it made your shoulders drop when he, overthrown and sad, asked, “But what could we possibly do, right?”

Maybe you’d continue feeling as dejected as him if you hadn’t come with a plan, no matter how possibly stupid. You hadn’t known what you’d learn about her, but you’d already formed a suggestion in your head, and now was as good of a time to drop it as ever.

You started carefully.

“You said… you’ve never seen her.”

But Jungkook didn’t need care. He didn’t need caution; no need to wrap your words in riddles for him to understand. The talk about his uncle didn’t elicit a reaction, but your statement did.

He shook his head immediately, still staring up at you. His cheeks looked puffy all of a sudden; his entire being radiated innocence when he pouted and said, “…I wouldn’t—”

But you interrupted, “We could find out so much.”

“We can’t just go on a journey to find her. It’s too much of a risk.”

He kept shaking his head, and you kept sighing. You were on two different pages, but you both had in common that you were worried about the other.

You argued, “Not doing anything is a risk, too.”

Jungkook’s demeanour changed immediately. He leaned forwards just a little, ogling at you in utter worry. You thought he was getting frustrated with your stubborn urge to solve this mystery, but he didn’t show any of it.

He was still gentle when his tender, mild voice, dipped in sugar, begged, “Sweetheart…”

You ignored the drop of your heart; planted a hand to your tummy, right where you felt the rapid beat of it, instead of in your chest. An endearment comes straight from the soul when one’s in despair.

But it wasn’t allowed to distract you right now.

So you immediately argued, “Jungkook… You have drowned in pain for more than a decade because of him. Why do you not wish to be free?”

“Because,” he started. Gulped. Looked away from you and to his hands. “I’ve never known another way.”

Falling for him felt painful then.

In a way, you were overwhelmed — what if you couldn’t help him in the end? What if he refused to heal? Human beings are creatures of habit, after all. Maybe, you thought, he didn’t want to break out of his chains at all.

But he’d changed the way his mind was wired once. There was surely a flicker of hope in him that could grow into something bigger; you wanted him to find it. Wanted to see it in his eyes, too.

So you thought back to the moments he showcased change, and said, “When you despised me so much… Did you know any other way to feel towards me?”

His desperation grew. “I—”

“And it might turn out well,” you said, blinking quickly, “everything. For you, me… us. I don’t want to lose you, no matter in whichever way.”

He silenced. Started pondering.

His gaze flitted back up to you, and he looked at you in thought, internalising your words. You knew something was changing in him, but it wasn’t certain enough to voice agreement.

All he did was dive deeper into his emotions, proving why your suggestion wasn’t as idiotic as you priorly deemed it to be.

Confessed to you, “...Growing up, I always desired a relationship I could trust.”

Perhaps you were getting there. You knew what he needed to say; so you kept listening, nodded, kept your mouth shut even when he paused.

And then, “Taehyung and Seokjin were both my family and my friends. But they are his sons after all. What could I have told them?”

“She’s his daughter, too.”

It made a difference, though. Of course you knew. So did he.

“No,” is what accompanied another sure shake of his head. “I cannot imagine any bond between two people like them. They are so far away. So vastly different. If I was her, I would not consider myself someone with a father at all.”

The harsh truth of it made you flinch.

On one hand, because you had never thought of such a reality before. You, who’d grown up with a loving family all your life, basking in the trust and affection you shared with each other.

But on the other hand, as he froze and fixated his eyes somewhere away from you, you realised at the same time that he was just such a someone, too.

With unmoving pupils, he still whispered, “I assume we would understand each other then, wouldn’t we? Maybe I need someone like her in my life.”

You waited for a conclusion. Watched him grit his teeth, his jaw hard and firm. When nothing came, you tried, “So?”

And he didn’t answer — only let his gaze drift into the distance.

Further time must have passed.

Because when you open your eyes, owls and other nightlife sing outside. The darkness has fully fallen, and silver-white dots glimmer in the sky above.

If your neck didn’t hurt so much, you’d be able to appreciate the view more from where you sit. You don’t move your head just yet; only crack your eyes open. For now, you try to fathom the position you’ve somehow gotten yourself in.

Your stance could’ve been worse, if not for the comfort of a warm chest.

You slip out of your peaceful sleep when gentle fingers brush along your cheek. They feel like they’re trying to stir you awake; combing back thin strands of your hair when your body moves against his.

A quiet whisper fills the suffocating inside of the carriage, and you register only one of the sentences, “Are you alright?”

You press your cheek against his chest before you lift your head a little. You don’t move away; still nestled in his embrace. Feeling the arm he slung around you, a large hand on your arm. Rubbing it, soothing you.

“I am… fine, yes,” you answer, still groggy. Your eyelids are half-closed.

He doesn’t let you go yet. Maybe he’s craving your touch as much as you crave his pure affection.

You sigh, but it goes under when Jungkook says, “Good. We’re arriving shortly. You can properly rest soon.”

Glancing up carefully, your gaze meets his, hiding in the shadows. You can’t see much of him, but you feel his breath and his proximity so clearly.

You might be sleep-drunken, but none of your slumbers will ever be deep enough to keep him from lighting up your veins. Not with his body wrapped around yours. Holding you like a guardian, keeping you close to his heart as you wish him to.

Your voice is faint and feeble when you ask, “Arriving where?”

“Lodging,” he answers. His voice is so soft. “One of the locals here told us there is an accommodation nearby. We’ll stay there for the night, yes?”

“Yes…”

Brief silence descends between you, and you attempt to ignore how close his lips are to yours. If you leaned in just a little, an inch might remain between them.

Jungkook doesn’t let the quietude stretch as he looks straight ahead again, but his hold around you relaxes a bit. Some of his warmth falls, but in this chill summer night, your skin demands more of it.

“Were you dreaming?” he wants to know.

You scour your mind for a moment and come up blank. Dreams never linger for too long anyway; but you can’t conjure any pictures you might have seen. So you say, “I don’t remember a dream.”

“You seemed uneasy.”

Did you? Is that why he’s holding you?

You glance at him, but then look away immediately. You can’t muster the courage to stare at the fatigued sadness in his expressions just yet. It’s been here for a while now.

Do you look the same?

“I do not recall a dream,” you repeat, “but I dozed off thinking of a memory.”

“Yes? Which one?”

You think of the hot cheek you grazed. Of the dark glassy eyes, hopeless in the middle of the mausoleum. It happened merely two days ago; yet, it feels far away already.

If you could erase all the pain you saw and replace it with lifelong joy, you would.

In fact, that’s what this journey is for, right?

As the carriage rides over a bumpy road, you put a hand on his knee, though it does nothing to stabilise your balance. Close to him, your eyelashes lift, and tenderly, you tell him, “You…”

Jungkook tenses. Breathes out. You don’t know what you evoked in him, but his words are sober, although a little regretful, when he says, “I shall hope it wasn’t anything hurtful.”

His statement renders you speechless. He waits for your response; you feel his eyes fixated on you.

That is, until he realises you’re reluctant to answer and darts his head to the other side.

In the light of the street lamps outside, you see him blinking. He’s biting his lower lip; despite the pain he’s caused you, you don’t think he’s faring any better without your fondness.

As a hint of guilt pricks your heart, you lean slightly forwards, seeking his gaze as you ask, “Were you hurting, too?”

“Hm?”

He looks back at you; he’s heard the question, you know. Maybe he’s searching for an answer.

You explain, “When I rejected you. When you walked away, and realised what I knew. Were you hurting?”

You’re sure you know what he’ll say, but you want to hear it from him. Want to analyse his tone, pick out the sincerity in it.

Whether it’s still an act or not, though, when he speaks, he sounds as genuine as you want him to. His words feel heavy, tinged with ache when he admits, “I was.”

“Why?”

Perhaps another stupid question. Yet, another attempt to find out his true feelings, too.

“Because,” Jungkook begins. His voice is cautious, and his body unmoving. A familiar yearning fills the air when he sighs; dragging your heart to your stomach as he continues, “Something about you is hard to let go.”

Your heartbeat keeps you wide awake.

When did you start affecting him like this? Was it at the same time as when he infiltrated your mind?

You can’t remember the first time he looked at you as though he orbited you. Like you shone a light into the darkness his heart inhabits. At least that spark of affection must’ve been real.

Or so you hope.

“How did you cope with it then?” you ask.

Oddly, he doesn’t answer. His eyes fall to his lap, his feet suddenly shuffling. Restless. You don’t understand the motions, but they feel like a bad omen.

You continue, “I uhm— I read. Any book, really.”

The silence doesn’t go away, and you grow antsier by the second. Is it another one of his secrets? Why won’t he spill it? Is he ashamed of it?

A dozen questions accumulate. Your hand quavers, tempting you to reach out.

But.

When the volume of his voice drops to an eerily rueful whisper, you think you know what he’s suggesting.

“I am sorry,” he only says. “You deserve none of what I do to you.”

It must be what you’re thinking.

You ask, “Why?” Your thumbs circle around each other; your chest feels tight. “Was it…”

Was it a relapse? Him going back to whatever he used to know? Does he always cope like that?

“I—”

“Who was it?” you question.

You shouldn’t feel the way you do — you pushed him away. When he stood at your doorstep, begging for your attention, you sent him away.

But you were right. And your feelings were valid. If you could go back with the same knowledge you possessed back then, you’d make the exact same decision again.

Yet, it doesn’t hurt any less.

Perhaps he can assure you that you’re wrong. Widen his already big eyes and say that this isn’t what happened and that you misinterpreted his apology…

But of course, life isn’t a wish-granting genie.

You think you hear your heart crumble when he tells you, “Just… someone. She was a stranger.”

Does this make matters better or worse? He didn’t know her to remember her well after all. But he still found distraction in someone else — did you start out the same way to him?

The thought of intimacy; of two naked bodies colliding. Of the physical connection he shared with her, even though the night didn’t last forever… It hurts how breathless it leaves you.

“How did it feel?” you want to know. You cannot say why.

The question is risky. What could you possibly gain from it? More pain?

You regret it in the very next moment, ready to take it back and wave it off; but his mouth opens before yours does. And what comes out of it surprises you.

“It hurt.” There’s remorse in his voice. He looks like he wants to reach out; and he sounds sincere. “I was talking about you.”

The honesty baffles you. Maybe it shouldn’t; how else would he gain back your trust?

“Oh,” you voice.

“I apologise.”

You gulp. “Why would you apologise?”

“Because… it feels like I betrayed you.”

Did he? Logically, he didn’t.

Societal factors demand otherwise; people like him are frowned upon. You cannot court someone and simultaneously stain someone else; not if you want to keep a decent reputation.

But thinking about it from a rational side, one that doesn’t agree with society and its odd rules, he didn’t do anything wrong. It was you who rejected further advances.

So you promise, “You did not. We were apart… Never together, in fact. You were free to do such a thing when hope seemed pointless.”

Yes…

He could’ve even partook in orgies at brothels… Your pain aside, he could’ve.

And anyway.

You have bigger hurdles to fight right now. What Jungkook may truly want or not, aside from searching for answers, is irrelevant now.

You need to push your negative feelings back. Your thoughts and your doubts. You don’t want to dwell on mistakes but find a way to heal him, and the two of you. Don’t want to think of other women, or the scheme that hurt you.

He had reasons you want to forgive.

Reasons you keep repeating to yourself: Jungkook knows too much. The Duke fears that side of him; wants him gone, wants the threat out of his sight, and Jungkook wishes to leave the misery, too.

But his uncle — he is too scared an irresponsible man like Jungkook might not be able to live alone.

Seeking a wife to keep him grounded — breaks your heart in the process.

It’s not Jungkook’s fault, if you think about it like this.

Because if you were him, you’d fear a terrible uncle enough to hurt someone else, too. Maybe.

So you need to forgive; the past needs to fade.

Jungkook is dwelling in other parts of your conversation. Timid and dejected when he asks, “Is there hope now?”

Not a bad inquiry. You can't say.

“I am not quite sure. But we will see.”

You only notice his hand still loosely on your arm when he squeezes a little. His fingers drop to your wrist in your lap, a thumb brushing along the fabric of your coat. You feel closer to his scent when he mumbles, “What do you want?”

“I…” you start, letting him fog your brain once more, “I want there to be hope.”

“But?”

“But I don’t know how this journey will end.”

The issue with forgiving, however, isn’t Jungkook himself.

Yes, the betrayal and the hidden plan he agreed to will always be a truth; all of it really happened. And while trust is sparse these days, you don’t think he’s lying when he says he never intended to hurt anyone.

But… What if the secrets his family hides are too big for you to endure? What if the intrigues are too ominous, too dark for your colourful life? Could you fight through them for him?

Are you in love enough?

You don’t know. But you shall find out.

Jungkook stirs next to you. You think you feel his heartbeat straight through his chest, right against your shoulder. It hurts you when he says, “I want you to know that… I am still hoping.”

He looks at you with endless longing. With so much sorrow.

“That shall benefit us, then,” you say, “first as we look for your cousin. Then, perhaps for our sake.”

He nods slowly.

“I am somewhat excited to meet her. My cousin.”

Your lips move to a smile, encouraging words laying on your tongue when the coachman interrupts, “We have arrived.”

A glance out of the window shows a humble abode. One light is still burning; the area is pretty but desolate. Scary, but it has to do.

“Good,” you say, stretching your limbs a little, “sitting here started hurting.”

Jungkook’s grip finally falls around you, and he straightens his back, ready to step out before he tells you, “Then let’s alleviate the pain.”

You know he’s talking about proper rest.

But you can’t help but wonder whether he really will.

The trip from the carriage to your room remains uneventful. Your feelings, however, do not.

Somehow, you managed to be the one to speak to the receptionist the most. Jungkook, while popular in town, a rumour on any woman’s lips, is strangely shy in front of strangers.

He didn’t talk to him much, only barging in when he, to your surprise, rejected your idea to get separate rooms. It’d be cheaper to share one, he said.

You would’ve contradicted his idea, if you’d truly wanted to. But the prospect of whatever might happen if you stayed between four walls with him… intrigued you.

Now that you’ve stepped over the threshold of the room, however, you’re nervy. There is only one bed.

Of course there is.

You knew — why does it only seep in once you’ve memorised the interior of the room?

Suddenly, your thoughts spin around their own axis. How are you going to split the room? Will you at all? If you changed into different clothes now, would he have to go out?

And most importantly. Will you be able to catch a minute of sleep tonight?

Jungkook must notice your restlessness, the way you nibble your lips. Because when he walks deeper into the room, brushing his hair back, he asks, “Should I get another room after all? Or maybe…” He glances around, then points to a corner. “I could take that chair.”

“No,” you refuse, “I can take the chair.”

“Out of the question. You are not.”

“But we—”

“I do not want to trouble you. I can leave… I regard this room yours for the night. I could—”

He makes advances to leave, walking back to the door, but you rush towards him, grabbing his hand instinctively. Your eyes rip apart the moment his do; neither of you expected the touch.

Carefully and quietly, you hesitate, stuttering, “We… I think. I reckon we could just. Both stay here. It is cheaper, you were right, and…”

This is embarrassing.

But he understands. Merely nods, staring at your feet for a second. His round eyes are huge. Innocent, unsure.

And then, he licks his dry lips, pointing to another, smaller room. You didn’t see it before — guess you can use it to change, because you’re sure you won’t find another bed in there.

When he walks away, you use the emptiness of the room to change, too. The white nightdress is far more comfortable than the one you sweated into in the carriage.

The day feels endless; your eyes beg for sleep.

But when you lay down, hands under your head, turned to your side, sleep won’t overcome you anymore. Even less when you feel him drop onto the mattress behind you. There must be a safe distance between you, because you can’t feel his warmth.

And he is quiet.

Not a word is uttered for a couple of minutes. You think that’s how the night will proceed, and that’s how you will fall asleep.

You assume he’s the first one to drift away; at least that’s what you interpret when his throat-clearing and turning and tossing stop. When his breathing calms, you think him fast asleep.

It’s incredibly quiet; almost uncomfortable. But his inhales and exhales soothe your heart.

You turn around, fully expecting an angel-like form slumbering next to you. Drowning in dreams. But when you catch open eyes immediately, a head moving to meet your gaze, you flinch.

He looks distraught when you gasp. Worry spreads across his features, a hand moving to reach out as he asks, “What what? What happened?”

You put a hand on your heart, shutting your eyes before opening them again. Falling on your back, you say, “I thought you were asleep.”

“I thought you were, too,” he says. His eyebrows are furrowed when you look at him. “You were so worn out during the ride.”

“It’s just…”

You don’t finish your sentence. Only back away an inch, putting both your hands on your stomach to busy them.

He waits for your explanation, but when none arrives, he says, “I know. I meant it, I can go away.”

“No,” you tell him immediately, “you don’t need to. It is just… new.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond. What is he thinking? Perhaps that it isn’t new to him? That he’s woken up in different bedrooms often enough to know this feeling?

No.

Something entirely different.

Because a tiny moment later, he asks, “What can I do to help you fall asleep?” He moves again, and now he’s on his side, looking at you. “We have an early morning and a long day ahead.”

What… he could do?

Oh God, how would you know…

Uhm.

“I don’t know,” you eventually say. Scouring your brain did nothing.

“I could sing something to you.”

What?

Really?

“No, I…” You’re clueless. You didn’t think he’d worry so much; you fully expected him to knock himself out the moment he touched the mattress. “You don’t need to. But thank you.”

You see his silhouette nod; you register the outlines of his face, but can’t see his eyes’ sparkle that you love so much. Then again, maybe you’d spiral harder if his pupils dug into your soul directly. Maybe his voice is enough.

Especially when he says things like—

“Then. Can I hold you?”

Jeon Jungkook.

What the hell are you saying?

Is he intending something? Is there a deeper meaning in his suggestions? A way to reconcile, to gain back all of your trust and your touch?

Your heart will break your ribs if it beats any faster.

Letting out an embarrassingly shaky breath, you tell him, “Don’t feel obligated to—”

“I do not,” he cuts you off, “I… I am a little selfish.” You almost hear it when he swallows. Maybe he’s feeling as fragile as you do. “…I want to hold you.”

Why?

Why, why, why?

No… you’re not asking yourself why he wishes for such a thing.

But why you’re holding back so incessantly.

Sure, there’s the fear of falling deeper into this mess; to lock him deeper in your heart and forbid an escape. Although it might be too late anyway.

But if he’s truly fallen for you, too, maybe you should let those emotions flow for just a few nights. Just for now; you don’t know how things will play out.

Right?

So you draw a deep breath. Lose your inhibitions, lured in through pleading words only. He wants you close; you’re too brittle to decline.

Back on your side, you inch closer to him. Fingers reach out and grip his linen shirt before they turn into loose fists. Your forehead remains a few inches from his chest; you’re still too reticent to snuggle into him.

But he’s not.

An arm snakes around you; his palm settles on your back and pulls you nearly flush against him. His scent… the touch. You missed all of it.

None of it will help you fall asleep tonight, though.

A slight whimper escapes you when he pushes against your body. Your fists clench, and when he notices, he’s quick to inquire, “Too much?”

You shake your head fast. “No.”

“More?”

He’s daring. The purity in his eyes from before must still be there; but his words are bolder now. Maybe your willingness to… all of this boosted his courage.

“I…” you say.

You don’t know the answer, because you can’t decode what more is.

Impatient touches? Bare bodies…?

His hand rubs your back before it moves to the nape of your neck. He raises your head gently, spotting your eyes in the dark. A breath fans your face.

Against your better judgement, you let him do; even lift your head further until your mouths are aligned. As though enchanted, the power he emanates pulls you closer.

You barely notice when his lips graze yours, but the faint touch causes a million explosions, scattered across your torso.

You can barely breathe.

His hand tugs you in a little more before it floats down to the small of your back, and his breathing is as irregular as yours now.

Your legs urge you to wrap around his body; you want your bodies to become one. You want his kiss to burn you. All you’ve held back so far, all the desire and yearning pools in your stomach and heart — you want to free them.

But your journey isn’t over yet.

And the thought of him touching someone else just like this only recently messes with your head. Tears suddenly prick your eyes, but you blink them away.

Aside from any coping methods he chose, you don’t think that, considering his cousin and all the secrets revolving around her, this is an appropriate thing to do right now.

So you move from the kiss; leave him puzzled and taken aback. A questioning hum falls through his lips, but you don’t know how to escape. Instead, you let his shirt go, quickly turning to your original position.

Your back turned to him. Eyes squinted shut. Trying to calm the adrenaline, coming back to reality.

For a couple seconds, he doesn’t fight your reluctance. He lets you dodge his body and his existence. You wonder what’s going on in his head; he doesn’t speak his thoughts.

And maybe he doesn’t need to.

Maybe it says enough when he closes in to you, delicately slinging an arm around your body again. He’s careful, as though he’s asking for permission, before he actually voices, “May I?”

You don’t answer. He draws you in until your back touches his chest. Asks, “Do you want me to move away?”

You can’t quite look at him; but you don’t want to miss his touch. You shake your head.

His lips fall to your shoulder. He’s not kissing you, but the gesture feels intimate; intense. More so when his mouth travels up to your neck. Elicits goosebumps when he breathes against you, “Am I still hurting you?”

No, you’re just… bewildered.

“You’re not…” you answer.

“What are you thinking of, then?”

“Nothing.”

You tilt your head back, shivering when he presses his lips to the skin right under your ear, ever-so-slightly. His hands don’t move; they remain on your stomach. Never exploring anything above or underneath that spot.

The embrace is harmless; innocent. But it feels like smothering flames.

You thought you were water, cool as ice; and that he was fire, hot-headed and irresistible. You wanted to evaporate with him, but right now, you’re both burning.

Right now, you’re not steam but a wildfire.

He’ll leave you in ashes, and you’ll let him.

You keep proving it to yourself — with how you let him hold you. With how you let his kiss barely ghost over your skin. With how you allow his words to affect you.

And how could you not? How do you ignore it when he confesses—

“I want you.”

You grimace. The agony is unbearable — love hurts worse when both hearts are involved but reality keeps pulling them apart.

He robs you of breath when he whispers, “Just you.” As he nuzzles your neck, you lose half your mind; devoid of thoughts when he adds, “And I won’t stop trying.”

That’s it.

The final words of tonight before the two of you silence once and for all. You linger in his embrace. Not brave enough to pull yourself out of it.

And like this, you count the seconds until you finally fall asleep in his arms.

The remainder of your journey passes with stolen glances and a silent tension between you.

The carriage transports you to your desired goal within a few hours. But time stretches in a way that it feels like an illusion.

Both of you want to talk about the implicit confessions last night; but neither of you has the courage to speak up first. Or perhaps, this just isn’t the time to lay it all out.

And when you finally arrive at the cottage, stepping out into the evening sun, the opportunity passes quickly and silently. As you stare at the scenery stretching in front of you, your minds blank anyway.

It’s green. Incredibly green.

The fields are wide, ending in wide forests. Drunk by the blue sky, containing a pleasantly low number of clouds. And the cottage reminds you of the tomb at the cemetery, though reeking less of death and wet soil.

Flowers surround it; it’s made of wood.

If you have ever seen a place that resembles a separate world, a fairytale standing on its own, it must be this. Idyllic. Surreal.

Maybe you can understand after all why neither mother nor daughter would seek the company of a terrible man.

This place’s scent is far lovelier than the rotten heartbreak your town has become. It brings back some of the tenderness you were made of; some of the love you housed for the world.

Whenever it dawns on you how realities have broken you within weeks, your cheerful little self, hidden in the depths of your brain, recoils.

But today, you muster a hopeful smile. Something optimistic sparks in you as you near the cottage; like you’re entering the beginning of an end.

It increases when you step onto the narrow porch and lift a fist to knock. But the door is already ajar — like a sign of a welcome.

You look at Jungkook and expand the smile that he must interpret as reassurance; because he smiles back, takes your hand in response.

But you’re laughing at yourself — it’s refreshing, feeling dreamy again. Hope feels good.

You knock nevertheless and step back. Your blinking accelerates, lips pressed together. Wandering eyes peek through the tiny gap as you wait; you can’t see much anyway.

Jungkook inches closer to you until his cheek almost touches yours and imitates your curiosity; he does it with his whole body. With an open mouth and a craning neck; his tongue dampens his lips before he hums and starts, “Might need to knock aga—”

And right when you prepare for an answer, already nodding with raising knuckles, a loud, friendly voice chimes, “Just another moment!”

Jungkook and you flinch at the same time. Your fist floating near his torso twitches and hits his stomach lightly, and you immediately gasp, uncurling it to a protective hand. A grunting man might not be the best sight to the woman inside, but you on the other hand?

You can’t help but giggle at the crunched button nose, joining the distorted chuckle that hides his miniscule pain.

He catches himself before the door finally opens; you’re glad you didn’t keep your fist any lower.

His voice is back to normal and his stance as elegant and charming as ever when a middle-aged woman’s tender eyes greet the strangers at her doorstep. Her dark pupils are large. The warm kind; the one that inhabit endless kindness.

You don’t know if it’s just another hopeful spark that lights your chest, but despite how little you know about her, you feel comforted instantly.

She looks at you for a moment; she doesn’t seem like she expected anyone. Especially not full strangers.

Suddenly nervous, you feel yourself unable to answer. You squeeze the hand still holding yours, and it presses back in reassurance before his timid voice greets, “Good day.”

She — Jiyoo? –– responds with a tiny nod and an unsure smile. Lets her gaze flit down to your entwined hands and then back to you.

“Good day,” she says. You notice she’s holding a cloth when she grips it with both hands; the door moves when she steps forwards and her shoulder brushes the wood. “How may I be of help?”

You’re so incredibly tense. What if she pushes you away, no matter how kind she seems? She doesn’t know a thing about you after all — and she might not want to relive a past that might or might not have ended terribly.

Briefly, you look past her. Not a sound escapes the house, not a single voice asking what’s going on. The place seems empty, but homely. The table behind her is tiny.

You try, “Are you Jiyoo?”

What else is there left to do? You need to take the plunge.

“Yes,” she answers, still sporting a smile despite the slightly ominous encounter. “Who are you if I may ask?”

Of course she can ask.

You’re intruding. You’re travellers. It’s her home.

Sympathy floods through you. You wonder if Jungkook feels the same.

You want to answer, but her expression shuts you up. She looks content; you can’t bear to see that smile drop. What’s the right thing to say?

You’re waiting too long.

All of you knows that you’re waiting too long, so Jungkook takes over.

“We…” He looks to the side, right at you, sighing. “We came from not too far. Travelled for nearly two days. We were…” He’s on the edge, too. You squeeze his hand again; he clears his throat. “We were told you reside here with your daughter and are incredibly welcoming.”

The last part is a cheat. A way to arrive at the goal faster. Not too stupid of him.

Her expressions change; the smile drops, replaced by genuine surprise. “Oh. You know my daughter?”

Jungkook shifts his balance to one leg when he says, “Suhana… we… yes.”

“How?”

“She—”

He will reveal it all. You aren’t even inside and he’ll put every little detail into your introduction. Not that you’d planned anything else — but now that you’re here, looking at a woman clutching a cloth like a child does with a toy, you just…

You can’t. Not yet.

God, you’re an idiot. You’ll regret it.

But—

“Did you meet on her travels?”

Not you. That was not you talking, although you had another dumb excuse ready; one that would’ve undoubtedly ruined your plans.

That will do, too.

“Yes,” you spit.

You’re daring a risk — you might say something wrong. She might be testing you. This could go so, so wrong. And Jungkook, aware of this, wants to correct you. His hand slips out of yours, and he hesitates, but you’re quick to speak first.

Goodness, her eyes look genuine.

“Yes, we generally travel quite often as well, so we met her a while ago. Is she…” Your pupils dart past her again, and you dip your voice in a bit more honey. “Is she here?”

Maybe it’s wrong to lie to a gentle soul. You know your protection techniques will backfire; especially since you’ll need to reveal the truth at some point. You just…

You want to ease her into this.

“Not yet,” Jiyoo says. “She is gone again. But she uhm— have you two eaten?”

The sudden change in topics catches you off guard. You stutter for a second, and then realise how empty your stomach is indeed.

“We are actually starving,” you admit.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“No… not yet.”

You should feel pathetic.

You came here without a plan — perhaps she feels disturbed. Maybe she thinks she’s facing clueless wastrels. People who freed their spirits too much and are now roaming the country.

But that’s not what her intentions are.

Instead she lifts her eyebrows; her smile returns and she claps once before she says, “Oh, then just ask! I will not find it rude.” You want to ask what she means, but then she gestures towards the back of the house. “I have a spare room with a spacious bed, if you’d like to stay the night.”

You’re dumbfounded.

What?

“Suhana should be back by tomorrow afternoon.” She says it casually, but… what is that? Something in her words. In her tone. There’s melancholy, something entirely new; peculiar. You ignore it for now. “You shall say hello then. As old friends.”

When you gauge Jungkook’s reaction, his jaw is clenched again. His expression is neutral; you can’t decode it. But it’s different from the nervousness before. Different from the friendliness; a lot colder now.

Yet, he manages a kind tone, and asks, “You would allow that? We do not mean to be a nuisan—”

“Oh, no!” Jiyoo argues. “She likes to make new acquaintances. Some travel, like you, and they stop here to stay and keep us company for a night or two.”

So… this is not the first time?

Has she already treated strangers as friends? Offered them shelter, welcomed them into her home?

It’s surreal. It’s strange. She emanates warmth and a pure heart, but suddenly you’re…

Wondering. You just don’t know what about.

You’ll have a night to figure out, you guess.

“That would be incredibly kind,” you then say. “We would love to wait.”

And that’s it.

She invites you in like friends she has known all her life. She makes the table, talks about how her bed has always been way too spacious for her alone, too.

Speaks about her fields and vegetables and other random things; asks you about your meal preferences, keeps repeating how different fresh, self-harvested food tastes.

Jungkook and you cooperate. You listen without feigning interest, and tell her half-truths, never diving into your actual personas. You let your names drift into the conversation; your heart stops when Jungkook tells her his, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

Maybe you are far enough from the Dukedom. Maybe people have built a life in small villages such as this one, separated from royalty and towns.

You’re relieved. Jungkook not so.

Something is bothering him, and you hate that you cannot ask him yet.

Instead you indulge in the little talks with Jiyoo. Endeared when she asks, “Would you like some tea to warm up? It is getting a little late, so it must be colder outside.”

Was it late before, too? Or has time just passed since you arrived?

“Of course,” you say. “Thank you.”

Smalltalk continues. The words you exchange mean nothing, but they make her open up. You sit still as a mouse, barely lifting your hand from your lap until dinner is served. You offer your help which she immediately denies, and do all the right things to gain her trust.

Not that you deserved it… not yet, at least.

You want to do the right thing, but you feel awful.

“She does travel a lot, yes?” you ask as you swallow the last bite of your meal.

Jiyoo nods, covering her mouth with her hand, chewing until nothing’s left before she finally answers, “She does. She was never one to stay at one place. It’s frowned upon in towns when women do it,” she gestures towards the door, as if a town stretches right in front of it, “but in the countryside, they do whatever they want to.”

You nod understandingly. It sounds nice. No judgemental stares, no expensive balls. No whispers that have never been subtle.

Suhana must be living the life that Jungkook craves.

You look at him again. He’s focused on his plate. Barely talking. You wish you could reach out, decipher his thoughts.

Jiyoo leans forward just a little, squinting her eyes in question, “You met her when?”

Good question…

“A year or two ago,” you improvise. “She was very kind to us, so it was easy to remember her.”

Jiyoo’s smile stays plastered on her face, but some of the cheerfulness in her eyes dies. You don’t know what it is — did you say something wrong? Has Suhana ever done something to Jiyoo for her mother to think otherwise?

For Jungkook’s sake, you don’t want Suhana to mirror her father’s cruelty.

“Yes, I can imagine that,” Jiyoo murmurs. Shit, you cannot fathom her tone; nor her eyes, because she looks away, around the room. “I apologise that you couldn’t find her here today. I get lonely, too.”

You don’t answer. All you can offer her is a gentle smile, a tilted head. Empathy.

“But,” she then adds, “it is lovely that you came. I have company as I wait for her.”

Almost reaching out to her hand, you hold yourself back, only shaking your head as you assure, “Don’t apologise. You’re not at fault at all.”

She looks between Jungkook and you; nibbles her lips, nods. The man is still quiet — if you weren’t aware of his presence at all times, you could almost assume that he left.

And you still don’t get the opportunity to talk it out until Jiyoo suggests, “You must be exhausted from travelling. If you need to, you can take a rest. I shall clean up before resting, too.”

You offer your help once more; and when she declines, you find yourself in the spare room, dressed in the nightgown she lent you. Jungkook improvised his nightwear, using the same as last night, and takes a seat at the edge of the bed.

Standing in front of a painting, you let him ponder. Maybe he’ll voice his thoughts in a minute or two.

But his behaviour remains; entirely different from the moments he held you last night.

Reserved, seemingly… angry?

Once enough time has passed, you lift the fingertips that brushed the painting, and turn towards him to ask, “Are you mad?”

He lifts his head, shifting his attention from the wooden ground to your face with a deep inhale. There’s uncertainty in his eyes, but on top of that thin layer, you see disappointment.

Yet, he lies, “No.” Strengthens the false truth with a click of his tongue; looks at you with half-lidded eyes. And then he shakes his head, rubs his thighs and adds, “Or, I do not want to be. I’m just confused.”

Confusion isn’t what you interpret from his expressions, but you choose to believe. Your thumb points to the closed door and you ask, “Are you talking about her? There is something odd about her, though she has been incredibly kin—”

“No.”

You shut up immediately. When you meet his eyes again, another emotion has snuck its way to his gaze. You wonder how he can be so expressive; how a single glance conveys so many unspoken words.

You instantly know his anger targets you.

“Why did you not tell her the truth?” he asks.

Somewhere in the depths of your idiotic head, you knew. Of course that’s where the distance started. And frankly, convincing him to come, travelling so far, just to back away from the original plan — if you were him, you’d be upset, too.

You don’t know what to say just yet; all you know is that the walls here look thin. So you only say, “Please lower your voice.”

He doesn’t comment on your plea, but he obliges. Yet, none of the dejection leaves his face — it hurts you. Considering how flush your body rested against his last night, you hate that you’ve disappointed him.

Shrugging a shoulder, he repeats, “Why? I do not understand.”

“Because,” you look between random furniture in the room, catching your thoughts. You feel bad; suddenly, your reasoning sounds stupid. “What good would it have done? She is a lone parent, taking care of an adult daughter, and is all alone.”

Jungkook doesn’t buy it. An evil smirk creeps upon his face, and he keeps shaking his head, murmuring something; so you’re fast to add, “No matter how much money your family provides… What if she despises everything about royals?”

“And if she doesn’t?” he immediately defends. “You played along with her, but what if she was deceiving you, too?”

“I know. I had to risk it.”

“You had to why?”

You think for a moment. Your face falls, lower lip jutting out in a pout. Swallowing, you shuffle your foot, incredibly embarrassed. It wasn’t your right to lie.

But he wants an honest answer. So you say, “I don’t know. Instincts…”

He snorts.

“Your instin—”

“I just do not think that telling her too much could do us any good yet!”

”But,” he emphasises, “you said you met Suhana when she was travelling. That we did. That she was kind. What if she wasn’t? Jiyoo will know we’re lyi––”

He gazes up to the ceiling; a light grunt is muffled when he covers his face with his hands. When he emerges again, he points at you.

“God, you were pushing it so much!”

Alright. Fine, yes.

You made a mistake.

But his tone is condescending, and your ego won’t let him talk to you like that.

Licking your lips, you step forwards, glaring at him darkly before you attack, “What is it? Why are you so absurdly upset? Everything is working out so far!”

Jungkook grimaces; his face grows redder by the second. “Why am I upset? I— we came a long way. And you did not do a thing we agreed upon! You never do!”

Silence.

The knife straight to your chest feels so palpable that you think he must be seeing it, too.

He flinches back, like he’s realised how horrible his words were. And you keep looking down at where he still sits, frustrated when he averts your gaze. You hear your heartbeat in your ears when the vexation grows.

And then, quieter than before, you question, “What else did we agree upon? Except this.”

Because you cannot remember a thing he ever asked of you. Just one. And when it came to that, he’s always been alone, never seeking your consent.

And even now, he does not say a word.

You try again, “No, tell me…” You move closer. Your knees almost touch his. “What did we agree upon? We came here because of me in the first place. We’re still here because of me.”

You don’t like to take credit for anything; not one to do anyone a favour to receive one back. You help because you want to; because it’s a good thing to do.

But maybe he needs to hear this.

“I—” he starts, but you interrupt.

“No,” you ball your hands to fists, inhaling deeply, “fucking explain.” As you curse, he stares up at you. Big, dark eyes won’t soothe the ache anymore. “When did I not comply? When I didn’t play your sick, twisted game, right?”

“I did not mean that,” he momentarily argues, “and I explained to you that—”

You don’t care. “Or did I not comply when I fell for you but still pushed you away?”

"Stop. I never did this, because I wanted to, but because I needed to," he attempts to argue, but you're sick of all those lazy excuses.

"Right. You were going to take me to a faraway kingdom, as charming as you are—"

“Stop. It.”

“And would’ve kept up your lies.”

Despite your anger, you shrink when he takes a stand. He pushes himself off the bed with a mocking laugh, hands on his hips, and turns away from you. The cocky side-view of his face angers you — he won’t even look at you.

Just keeps that dumb grin on his face.

“Right,” he says.

“Until I asked you, you probably did not even feel bad about it,” you keep going.

He sighs. Your accusations trigger fury in him; you see it in his demeanour. Another glance towards you, eyes piqued; another warning, “Please shut up.”

But. You’re too heated now — hitherto hidden words come out like a waterfall.

“Why? You cannot live with the guilt, can you?” you challenge. “With the fact that I would have lived my entire life deceived by you. Thinking you were,” you gulp, and then stretch the words, “in love with me, t—”

“Fuck it.”

And suddenly, the next thirty seconds pass in blurry slow-motion.

The curse that interrupted your rage is a whisper, almost as breathless as your gasp when he bolts towards you. You stumble, stretching a hand behind you, careful to not slam against furniture.

But when he sandwiches you between him and the cold wall instead, firm hands on your shoulders pinning your body back, you shiver. Whatever mock you were still intending to throw at him disperses immediately; he sews your mouth shut.

“I was.” It takes you a moment to decipher what he’s talking about; when you remember, your thoughts tangle up. “I am.” Another pause. His hands leave your shoulders, palms instead pressing flat next to your head. “You think so twisted of me. And I don’t blame you.”

You want to escape the menacing gaze; want to slip under his arms and run away. But he traps you, way too close, and repeats, “I don’t. But I mean it.”

He means it. How often has he said that already — and you, carrying a fractured heart, how many times have you doubted him already?

“Jungkook…”

A hand moves to your clavicles; its fingers press into your neck just a little. He’s unleashing something dangerous, and you don’t know how to stop it. Or worse, you don’t think you want to, either.

“I mean it. I was,” he says. “And I am.”

Speechlessly, you stare at him for a moment. He’s awaiting a response, gulping, staring holes into your pupils. Like he’s searching for something in your eyes.

His shoulders drop in an unknown kind of relief when your fear subsides and gentle, melting warmth replaces it. You’re not scared of him — you’re in love with him. So this expression he wears, the situation he’s in, the pain he’s experienced; they don’t elicit fright.

Your eyebrows draw together in worry; and he mirrors your expression.

You think he’s imagining something — seeing pictures he needs gone. It’s easy for you to assume such a thing, because you think you look the same when you paint a future without him.

The more you look at him, the more you fear loneliness; and you know it’d drown you if you ended up losing him.

So you understand his sentiments; know what his swearing means when he takes a deep breath and whispers again, ”Fuck it.”

And then, he’s kissing you.

His lips are hot and intense. A hand spreads over the back of your head, protecting you from hitting the wall as he pushes into you harder.

Both your faces tilt at the same time; your lips lock in place just right. You taste your shared affection, hear the gasps and breathlessness, right here, pressed against the damn wall.

When your fingers tightly wrap around the fabric of his shirt, he moves away from your mouth and to your cheek for just a second. You use the moment that his pillowy lips wander along your cheekbone to whisper his name.

And the single word makes the grip around your hair tighter; he whispers a little, “How much longer were we supposed to wait?” before the silken softness of his mouth falls back on yours.

You don’t have an answer to his question.

But you know that if the world had worked as it was supposed to, throwing back the good karma you know you deserve, you wouldn’t have needed to wait at all.

Because despite the game he played, his passion was real. You feel it; you know it.

Heat blossoms in your chest; fire burns through your veins. His scent robs your breath equally as much as the fervent kiss does; and when he slips his tongue through and unleashes all he kept veiled, you can barely stand.

You moan against the wet muscle when it dances with yours — and the sound reaches deep within him, because in the matter of seconds, he’s pulled you away from the wall. Tumbles the few steps back, and plops onto the bed.

The eyes that usually spread so wide are hazy now; half-lidded, looking at you in silent longing.

You don’t know when his fingers entangled with yours, but he’s luring you in now, closer to his body; and you oblige until your knees hit the mattress. Lifting your nightgown, lips parted, straddling him eagerly.

In the shadow of the candlelight, his face shimmers golden. He’s close to you, closer than he’s ever been; and you look at him, freeing his forehead of his hair. Keep staring until you realise his taste on your tongue again, craving more.

So you give in — not holding back your desires anymore. Whatever has accumulated since that night in the dark room must escape now, or the two of you might implode at once.

You don’t know what you expected two minutes ago; but you don’t have it in you to care anyway. Not when you cup his face, leaning down wordlessly, and delight yourself with more of him.

God.

He feels like a cure.

And perhaps you are ready to fight and endure for him. No matter what the truth may be; what the future might entail.

He, against you, with you, next to you — a cure.

Those swollen lips of his. The hands on your back, moving up and down, finding a spot he can settle on. Pushing you into him, spreading your legs around his torso.

When you focus enough, you feel the effect your hot tongue practices on him. Beneath you, a bulge grows against you, hips rising. You grind into him; his fingers flash down immediately, gripping your teasing ass.

He digs into the flesh almost painfully, but it doesn’t stop you from rolling your hips. A patch of his hair in your fist, your mouths separate with a string of spit connecting you.

And he uses the moment to wander to your dress, pushing it off your shoulders to plant kisses on your skin.

As your head falls back, fingers clutching his shirt, and eyes clenching shut, you murmur, “Do not go too far just yet.”

He lifts his lips off your shoulder just an inch; his breath still tickles you when he speaks, “Mh, why not?”

“We’re not alone. What will she think?”

“That,” he pecks your neck, “she gave us the guest room.” Teeth graze your jaw; fingers pull down your face again. “That we are a married couple.” Another kiss under your ear. “That we do such… things.”

“But… decency and— Jungkook—”

You almost whine out loud when he leaves a wet patch on your neck. You shiver, your nerves alight.

“I don’t have it in me to be patient any longer,” he admits. When you grind into him again, he holds you in place firmer; looks up at you. “I can’t not go too far.” Soft fingertips seek the hem of your gown, and then push it up to your waist. “Unless you want me to slow down.”

Between the insanity of ball night, the fever during brunch and the tension in the last days and hours, you’d be stupid to tell him to back off. The lust pooling in your stomach is about to overflow — and he knows. He must be testing you.

Yet, you deliver an answer when you shake your head, gulping when he only says, “Good.”

He shifts back, pulling you with him, and you reckon he’s only making himself comfortable with you on top of him. But when he plants a palm against the small of your back and tosses you onto your back, you shriek.

His body hovers over yours with his signature smirk — it’s a crucial part of him. You used to detest it; grit your teeth at its sight. But today, it relieves you, because you must admit that you missed it.

Your arms fall to the side of your head, fingers digging into your palm. Anticipation gathers in your gaze as he draws closer. Eyelids flutter shut when his hair, brushing your face like a waterfall, tickles your cheeks.

“Why do you look so surprised?” he asks.

Do you? Surprise isn’t the first emotion you’d name right now, though.

“I am not surprised.”

“Frightened, then?” He leans down, pressing the gentlest kiss to the apple of your cheek. “Do I back away? Just say the word.”

He means it. In those caring eyes of his, you know he does.

And it means something to you. In this messed up world, it must.

“I’m not frightened, I promise,” you assure immediately, lifting a hand to his face. His skin is soft and hot under your touch, lips swollen as you brush a thumb over them. “Just. Digesting the reality of the moment.”

He looks like he’s… melting. Liquifying right over you.

His eyebrows relax, a smile gracing his features so fondly; something about your adoration, how you deem him unreal must be gratifying to him.

Or maybe, he isn’t used to feeling special. Because somehow, it seems that most of your words catch him off guard, no matter how devotedly you kiss him.

“Is it a reality you wished for?” he asks, stupidly so. He must already know the answer; if you asked him to, he’d probably be able to mouth it with you.

But with the overthinking that crushed your skull in the past few days, you understand the need for double confirmation. Especially for someone like him.

So you nod eagerly, speaking over your wild, treacherous heartbeat, “Of course… Is there any other reality to wish for, Jungkook?”

“Yes,” he immediately answers. “Yes, I think there is.” A peck lands on the corner of your lips. “One where,” another under your mouth, “we can do all of this without hiding. As an official unit. And…”

His breath falls, mingles with yours. He whispers, “Once this is over…”

”Please.”

The rest of the sentence remains unspoken when he kisses you again. You drink up all of the syllables, replace them with soft sounds.

Wide awake, you writhe beneath him. Your restless fingers crumple up his clothes when you tug him in, unaware of your own strength — because his balance vanishes and he nearly falls onto you with his entire weight.

A smile spreads on your lips, and he laughs when you do. Your apology is muffled, and his mouth moves with yours when you mumble, “My bad.”

When he lifts himself from the awkward position, he shifts into a far more dangerous one. Priorly kneeling next to you, his knees now hit the gap between your legs, pushing them apart until your dress shifts to your thighs again.

Playfully scolding, he shakes his head, eyes too fixated on yours to notice what’s going on between your thighs.

Attempting to swerve his attention just a little, you lift your legs, wrapping them around his tiny waist; and he reacts, just not in the way you want him to. Not that you’ll decline the fingertips that brush along your calf, hooking under your knee to pull you closer.

“Be careful,” he delivers delayed, caressing the skin of your limbs; starting at the legs, past your sides, delicately along your arm. “I am finding it hard to do so. So you need to be careful for me.”

Your heart flutters.

You know what he means.

If it was up to you, you’d let him devour you already; perhaps he’s just as impatient, ready to break you into pieces. But then again, he’s savouring the moment just as much as you, too — none of you will hurry tonight.

When you wriggle a little more, trying to arch your back, he warns, “Stay still.”

“Come closer, please.”

“Only if you don’t hurt yourself.”

You roll your eyes, digging your nails in the white material of his shirt harder. He looks amused, but finally gives in as his body, carefully, drops a few inches.

He positions his crotch against your leaking bits the moment he dives in for another frenzied kiss, emptying your lungs when he grinds into you once.

The bulge is thicker and firmer now, hard when he slides it over your clothed folds — and it makes you whine so damn pathetically. You might embarrass yourself soon enough.

Languidly, he repeats the movement, giving you a first taste of what’s yet to come. You grab a patch of his hair with a sensual moan; and when you chase more of him, lifting your head and chest towards his, he chuckles.

“What are you doing, hm?” he wants to know. He kisses the spot next to your eye, and it reflexively shuts; so adorable that he combusts. “Princess cannot get enough, yes?”

If he’d said that weeks ago, you’d been absolutely furious. But now that the world has given way to a new reality, you don’t mind it as much anymore.

But you still furrow your eyebrows when he grins cockily; an old habit. Irritated when he refuses more of his taste and wanders to your neck instead. His snicker remains as he opts for his favourite spot, but his hot breath distracts you too much to join in.

Right above your clavicles, he toys with the hem of your gown. His fingernails graze the mound of your breasts; not quite accidentally, you assume. And when he looks at you cautiously, reading your gaze, you already know what he’s going to say.

“I want to see them.” Unbelievable that he still feels the need to state that with those red lips of his. As if the permission isn’t written in your eyes. “May I?”

“You may see them,” you allow with an eager nod. “Touch them. Kiss them. You can—” You keen when he pushes down your dress, delighted at the absence of the stupid corset. “Yes, yes, you m—”

Whatever you’ll say from now on will be nonsense. You know. That’s alright.

Who cares when he swirls his tongue around your perked nipple? When he licks it wet and then breathes against it, continuing the tease with his eyes glued on your face.

He cups the other side with a large palm, pushing it up before it bounces back in its place. His thumb rolls over your other nipple; he’s so out of it that he doesn’t notice the teeth around your sensitive bud until you yelp.

“How long will you keep doing this?” you ask.

Confusion crawls over his fucked out gaze, and his pupils flicker when he looks at you and asks, “Doing what?”

“Stalling what we both want. Taking me the way you truly want to.”

Your whispered truths echo in his mind — combined with this gorgeous expression you’re sporting, your tender voice affects his entire body. The urge to ruin you grows tenfold; that purity you portray, he wants it to fall just once, under his ministrations.

Because the thought of affecting you so deeply; of wanting you and making you want him so ardently…

Jungkook might not survive tonight.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he suddenly says.

Pressed between him and the mattress, you can barely breathe anyway, but when his eyes turn so endlessly starry and fond, you crumble. Not under his weight, but his words’.

He’s still scared.

And frankly, thinking about it, so are you.

Your legs shift down to his thighs, and you place a hand on his cheek as you assure, “You won’t.”

“Not now, and… not like this,” he says, hinting to the intimacy, “but I do not want to make another mistake and for you to regre—”

“Then don’t,” you hastily interrupt, so ridiculously thirsty, blindly in love. “Don’t make me regret it.”

You don’t know what the future will bring; pain and misery come suddenly. So this is all you can offer; a soft order, a plea to him to keep you sane.

And Jungkook, obeying with a careful expression, merely nods.

He licks his lips. His face is red from the heat and from staying afloat above you; his torso is shaking a little when he inquires, “Have you done this before?”

You still remember your conversation back at the orphanage. Implicitly, you’d given him the answer already, but it must have slipped his mind. You don’t blame him, because you can’t properly think either.

You say, “Yes, but… It’s been long.”

For a tiny moment, an unspoken emotion flashes across his face. As if he expected a different answer; as if he’d already mapped out several ways to bruise and twist your body tonight.

But when he realises that he still can, the thought doesn’t deter him anymore. You see it in his eyes; the silent worry vanishes again. Maybe he’s content that he’s the one you chose eventually.

Just like the thought that he’s chosen you keeps your mind away from his… recent escapades.

Jungkook drops to his side when you answer, giving his body a break, but never letting you go. A hand still fiddles with your dress, brushing up and down in comfort as he asks, “What do you like? Do you still remember?”

This is unusual.

All those questions. It’s not what you still remember from your prior partners.

They were tender; they were fond of you. Their affection was genuine, but so was their pride. Perhaps they thought that asking for preferences was more awkward than having their way and finishing quickly.

But Jungkook isn’t only taking his time with you, but observing your reactions, too.

It’s killing you.

“I…” you whisper, slightly distracted by the fingers roaming your body. “Finger. Down there.”

He pecks your cheek, humming in satisfaction. He must be liking your answer — because he’s keen when his touch descends, lifting your dress one last time as he orders, “Take this off, please. It’s been vexing me for so long now.”

You glance at him. He hasn’t lost a piece of clothing, while your legs are half bare and your tits exposed. You touch his trousers and ask, “And you?”

“Me too. I will, right away.”

“You first.”

For a moment, he stares at you dumbfounded, and then laughs. “You are negotiating, aren’t you?”

“You will play with me until I beg. I know.”

“And you would be against it?”

You take a deep breath, holding back a gasp when he pushes his nails into your now naked waist.

Airily, you repeat, ”You first.”

“Good,” he says, lifting his torso. “Sly.”

He crosses his arms over it, and when he pulls the shirt over his head, your breath hitches.

His waist truly is tiny. It leads to curvy hips and a curvier bottom; Jungkook is built like an hourglass.

The toned, golden chest is defined. Dark brown nipples are as perked as yours, ready to be touched; almost as inviting as the chiselled abdominal muscles. He’s brawny, but not too much — and you can’t wait to have him flush against you.

“Sweetheart,” you hear his voice. When he falls back next to you, his fingers settle under your chin, and he says, “Close your mouth.”

You do, immediately embarrassed. “Oh. I was—”

You don’t say what you were. But he understands, asking for what you owe him, “I want to feel that way as well.” He draws impossibly close to your ear, kissing the shell of it; his hand sneaks beneath the dress and to your underboob when he whispers, “Take it off?”

And this time, while still somewhat in trance, you do. Not just the dress, but those damn drawers, too.

Part of you is shy when you throw the gown to the side, fully vulnerable, lacking even a single piece of clothing. You fix your hair and lie back down; and when you look at him and notice his frozen state, you gulp.

He’s studying you.

His eyes scan your body, halting at your chest, and then fall further before they pause again at the pelvis. Your inner thighs are glossy and damp; he sees it the moment you do, and it makes his pretty chest rise.

“Incredible,” he says.

“Jungkook…”

“I need to…” He exhales when you press yourself into the mattress, closer to his body. A warm palm comes back to your sides, soothing your worries. “I need to draw you one day.”

What?

Unexpected.

“I… Draw me?” you ask. “You draw?”

He nods, fingers squeezing and caressing your ass.

“I draw. I paint… I need you on a canvas.”

He pushes his body back and looks at you, lifting your head by the chin before he obliges to your wishes.

Finger. Down there.

Gently, he brushes along your pelvis before he finally, so, so delicately, ghosts over your clit and then down between your folds. Your response is immediate; your legs shut and trap his hand, and he hisses before you open them again.

He tuts, and you think he’ll throw another warning at you — instead, he says as tenderly as he can, “Keep them open, yes? It will feel better that way.”

You nod, but you don’t know how much of your control you’ll maintain. You have a very menacing feeling that he’ll shatter your world.

But he’s satisfied with your weak answer. Brings two fingers to your mouth, taps at your lower lip, pushes in when you understand.

As you drench his digits in your saliva, flicking your tongue over it, his body tenses, and he curses, “Fuck… Good enough.”

Jeon Jungkook is weak, too — you’re eagerly awaiting his reaction to when you’ll replace those fingers with something else.

Wet fingertips dampen your clit, drawing slow circles on it. But he doesn’t linger there for long, instead parting your nether lips until he’s prodding your entrance.

Of course, he doesn’t dig in just yet. You wouldn’t recognise him anyway if he didn’t take his sweet time with you. Instead, he rubs the fingers up and down, back to your clit, repeating his movements.

Goosebumps arise, and you focus harder on keeping your legs spread when he murmurs, “My God… I still remember how you taste.”

Thinking is difficult, and speaking even more so. But you still breathe a little, “How do I taste?”

“Addictive.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Then…

“Taste me again,” you beg in your fog; truly, your head is spinning around its own axis.

Thankfully, he doesn’t listen to you just yet, or you might have lost your mind entirely. No, he thumbs at the engorged bundle of nerves, and says, “Wait…”

For now, you understand that he wants to keep testing the waters. And God, they’re overflowing.

You’re soaked, and you can hear it.

Jungkook seems distracted, focusing on something specific, and you finally decipher what it is when he asks, “How did this happen so quickly?”

The fact that he’s known for jumping into different women’s beds should have numbed him to such an experience. The surprise in his tone makes you self-conscious — do the other girls have so much more self-control than you?

Sheepishly, you tell him, “I really cannot say.”

“Maybe… maybe I should kiss you again if that’s what—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but draws close instead. Tilting his head, lips over yours, and you tighten the grip around his bicep. From the side, he humps your hip, and you’re surprised when you realise that he keeps growing.

His length seems bigger through his trousers now. Harder.

You won’t refuse a kiss — fuck, if it makes him release his shaft from its confines faster that way, you will never retract your tongue.

But when he’s close enough, the jerk smiles — leans back all of a sudden, lets his hand roam over your stomach again.

What?

Where has his touch gone? Why—

Your mind races with curses.

Part of you wants to pout at him, wave the white flag and shake him. Let out an embarrassing plea to finally do more. Those fleeting touches along your pussy, retreating whenever your body reacts, are brutal.

But your second half orders you to let him do — to wait for a moment and let him try his own medicine.

Constructing ideas, you wait. Distracted only by the goosebumps that his teasing teeth around your earlobes call forth.

His breath tickles your neck when he says, “My God, I— I have wanted to touch you again since the last time. The moment in the forest was not enough…”

It’s a strange memory to choose; not quite delightful, but at least sincere. In that very moment, he meant everything he said and everything he did.

Thinking back, hadn’t it been for the pain, you’d wanted more, too.

So you agree, “I know. I know, but…” Your body tingles when he kisses your shoulder; a hand grips your naked tit. “But we’re here now.”

“And I want every inch of you.”

“Then take it.”

“...I will.”

Only that he won’t. At least not yet.

His skilled fingers are devilish; they mix your thoughts and increase your thirst.

But this time, you won’t let yourself stay passive; want him to beg, too.

So when he leans back fully, ready to focus on your body again, you grab the chance immediately. The sudden confusion he voices when you raise your body is no surprise; but he doesn’t fight you when you push his shoulders down, swiftly sitting up to straddle him again.

When you stare down at him, his eyes are bigger than ever.

His hands fall next to his head, his mouth slightly open; he doesn’t need to speak for you to hear his questions. And you deliver an answer, “Let me first.”

He blinks. “Why?”

“Because you did not have any of this last time.” Because you didn’t get the opportunity to. You were pressed against a tree, battling your own mind. “Want to give you something. Properly.”

“As you did in the tiny, dark room, huh?”

God.

“No,” you say, “better.”

He’s breathless already. Maybe because you’re dripping not far from his own ache; still towering against his stomach.

God, he looks glorious like that.

The snatched waist. The picture-perfect torso. Lean but not too muscular; a warm skin colour amplified by the candlelight. His hair is falling to the side and freeing his forehead, allowing an unhindered view to his entire, gorgeous face.

And… he looks like he’s liking this.

Half-lidded eyes; light red lips; Adam’s apple bobbing when he takes in every bare patch of you.

You know he wants to touch you, wants to bruise you. His eyes cannot decide whether to look at your perked nipples, or your wanting eyes, or the hair he could pull at.

From what you gathered the first time, back in that room before agony striked, he will do it all — you know he will. He is the type to. And his fingers are twitching.

But. Not yet.

“You are…” you start, palms brushing along the muscles of his abdomen. “You are so beautiful.”

He smiles with his teeth worrying his lower lip; releases it with sheer lust in his pupils, and then counters, “And you are breathtaking.”

You believe him. He does look as though he can barely breathe.

It fuels your ego and your motivation.

So you shift back on his legs, lean down until your nipples are nearly touching his. You grant him one brief kiss, too ephemeral to get lost into.

And then, you move down his body, targeting his chest. His skin looks pretty whenever you lick along it — like liquid gold.

Your ministrations elicit a deep groan out of his throat, and his fingers move to your sides, somewhere below your armpits. As though he’s about to pull you up to his lips again.

But he doesn’t. You guess he’s enjoying this too much.

The way you bite his small, brown nipples, grazing his torso with exploring hands. The way you look up at him. The self-assured smirk he has never seen on you before.

Holy fuck.

His cock jumps against your tummy, and when you bite back a laugh, his hoarse voice asks, “What is so funny?”

“Oh, I just…” you look at the length trapped between your bodies. “I am liking this.”

He tuts, lets his head fall on the pillow and pulls his lips to another Jungkookesque smirk. The palm moving along your side is soothing. You must not let it catch your focus.

“I am as well,” he assures. “Did not know you would be smitten with my body like this.”

He must be joking.

“Well,” you touch his pecs, moving farther down. “I might have an obsession with them, too.”

“Another thing we have in… common then, I— whatareyoudoi—”

His words spill out quickly and hastily when you kiss along his skin, blowing against his pelvis and the veiny dick. Tall against his belly button, you watch a drop of precum connect the tip and his stomach.

You toy with the bright head, and lick the salty droplet away.

It’s enough for him to let out a guttural sound; the hand previously on your waist now settles at the back of your head. Impatient.

“Memorise those sounds, because you might not hear them again,” Jungkook says, and you look at him with raised eyebrows; his eyes are still closed. “This might kill me.”

You giggle at the sudden humour; you wish you had the ability to utter such coherent nonsense when he does his thing with you.

With a roll of your eyes, your mouth falls back onto the leaking shaft. Just the tip of your tongue licks along his underside first; you ignore the angry red head, but his cock still jerks under your touch.

You almost regret it as soon as you say it, but in the heat of the moment, it falls without a thought, “For someone so active, I did not think you would be so sensitive.”

The statement makes you sick. He might say something you might not like — for a moment, the realisation of his past makes your heart fall again.

But either he notices, or he means it, because he doesn’t let you dwell in ugly feelings too long when he says, “It’s because of you. I cannot remember ever… wanting anyone so much.”

And considering the amount of times he has sought temporary intimacy, you cannot take his words lightly.

“Good,” you say, biting your lip as you bring a hand to the thick member. Brushing down to his firm balls. His legs open a little, allowing you some more space; thighs harden next to your head. “That is good to hear.”

And with that, you start properly.

Your tongue slides from bottom to top again, finally teasing the head in slow swirls. The vibrations of your moans make him react immediately; you guess that gentleness is key sometimes.

You keep the pace when you wrap your hand around him, pumping, leading him away from his stomach and into your mouth. The moment you stretch out your tongue wide, Jungkook allows himself a gaze down to you.

And when you tap the cock against the wet muscle thrice, you watch his teeth grit. The quiet growl wants to evolve into something more animalistic; you know.

But the fact that he’s holding back all of his impatience evokes something unknown in you.

You are fucking loving it; enough to finally swallow him as much as you can.

“Oh my God, you are killing me,” he makes sure to let you know again; deep in your mouth, laying on your tongue, he twitches again. He wipes the hair out of your face, looks at you, and adds, “Holy fuck. Your lips look… so pretty around my cock.”

He enjoys the word pretty; for a full minute, he whisper-repeats it like a maniac. Swears and sighs; his exclaims stop making sense.

And when your eyes dart up again, coming up his curvy cock to catch a breath, you see the angry furrow of his eyebrows. Smileless dimples dig into his cheeks, and he looks like he’s focusing too hard.

So you press a palm against his stomach, still moving your hand up and down the shaft as you order, “Lean back. Calm down.”

He shakes his head, but not to disobey. Fucked out.

“You are just… incredible at this.”

“Then lean back… and trust me.”

This time he does, but the hand remains on your head. Fights the urge to pull.

And you resume your actions. Take him in deep, suppressing your reflexes when his tip reaches the back. You taste more precum on your tongue, swallow around him eagerly with hollow cheeks.

And just when he is fully hard, solid and almost ready to burst, you back off.

Much to his chagrin.

Because his voice turns… whiny.

Amazing.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Simple answer. “I like how desperate you look.”

“Why the hell…”

“Just,” you interrupt. “Imagine it with me. Do you not want me desperate?”

He tongues the inside of his cheek, puffing out a breath. His laugh sounds as if it’s ridiculing you, but his warning is the opposite. Dangerous; affects your lower tummy and heart.

“You will be,” he says. “You will be once it’s my turn.”

Shit.

But. But—

Whatever he says… for now, his true thoughts are revealed through his actions and reactions.

Like, when you decide to continue your slow edging for just a second. Sucking at medium speed, bopping your head up and down and then backing away with a plop. Spitting, all wet and slobbery, attentive to the balls until he’s whispering your name.

You feel his nails against your scalp now.

“When did you learn such a thing?” he asks. It’s hilarious how exhausted he sounds; so surprised you’re almost offended. “I thought you’d…”

“What?” you defend. “That I would lay back, have no idea what to do? Let you do all the work?”

“I just…”

You shrug your shoulders with a confident yet honey-sweet smile. “Do you like it?”

He’s astonished. Doesn’t need to answer; but still does, “It’s amazing.”

“Good.” You stroke his dick a little. “Here… what about this?”

“Go slow.” You oblige, adjusting your pace. “This…”

“What do you want?”

“This… all night long. I want you gagging and breathless.” Fuck. You need to burn the image or you might faint. “But…”

You gulp. “Yes?”

“I don’t want to end tonight like this.”

Oh? Oh.

In truth, you don’t want anything different, either — you just didn’t expect for him to hold back this well. Chasing his high isn’t a priority; he wants you closer.

You understand.

And you cooperate — come up, lean down, breasts in his face. You’re surprised but also not when he latches onto them in an instant; grabbing them, squeezing them, lifting his head to give one of your tits a singular wet kiss.

You shift on his lap, spreading your folds against the base of his cock. The soaked member slaps back against his stomach, aggressively veiny. You grind against it once, spreading your juices along its thickness.

The gesture forces his mouth open and you use the moment to connect his tongue with yours.

God.

This position alone, with him not even inside, could make you come, you think. Because whenever you move backwards, his length throbs against your clit, hot and ready to split you in half soon.

You place a hand under his jaw, looking at him attentively as he stutters, “I di–didn’t know you had it in you… To do such… a thing.”

When you attempt to speak, you can’t get a word out; so you fill your lungs with air, and try, “You weren’t the only one fantasising… you know?”

“Yes?” His forehead is covered in a thin sweat. Talking requires all his strength, with your pussy gliding over his dick and whatnot. “I want to know all about it.”

“No… you’ll feel it all, too.”

“God, are you still the same perso—”

His speech breaks when he sees you spitting into your hand. You lift your body from his, his hands chasing your touch; his grip on your hip is brutal when you bring down your soiled fingers and circle your clit.

Cover his cock with it. Delighted when he begs, “Stop it.”

“What?”

You slow down, but don’t come to a full stop. His chest rises and falls heavily; he’s tired and desperate when he says, “Please put it in.”

Oh. That’s what it is.

The traces of the controlling beast are gone; he’s a mess beneath you.

A corner of your mouth tugs upward, and you challenge, “Why don’t you do it?”

“Because you’re a vixen.”

You laugh. “Do it.”

He waits. Hesitates. He doesn’t trust you, and the suspicious look lights up your chest. You have never had this much fun in bed before.

You lift yourself off him when his trembling hand moves to his cock. He breathes through the mouth only, guiding his cock to your cunt, and when the tip touches your clit, you dodge.

Just a little. Enough to make him exclaim, “I fucking knew it, you vix—”

��I am joking,” you giggle, basking in his faux-annoyance.

When he tries again this time, you let him.

And…

Something in you bursts into flames.

This. This is the first time you are truly feeling him.

The thick, big length penetrates your walls so easily, leaving no gap. You sink onto him, but it doesn’t seem to end — the more inches you take in, the more you spiral.

Shit, that damn curve; it hits you right where it should, digging and digging in until you think he must be in your stomach. Your pussy clenches hard, and he hisses when you do.

“I— are you alright?” he asks; a drop of sweat trails down his temple.

“You’re big,” you whisper.

He smiles; nods. When he shifts on the bed, he slips deeper into you, and you gasp. Balls hit your ass when he says, “Be gentle. Don’t hurt yourself. Is that good?”

“It’s more than good. ‘M fine, I… I needed this.”

His fingernails rake along your arms; you shiver, angling your head with parted lips.

You’re almost scared of moving. He will break you.

But isn’t that what you dreamed of all those weeks? What you yearned for?

Carefully, with a deep breath in, you move up; your thighs are shaking, legs weak from how far his cock reaches. You make it halfway, and then drop onto him again.

And the sensation is…

Insane.

“Oh God, Jungko—”

“You aren’t already tired, yes?” he teases. You would remark something just as cocky, but you can’t form a word. He’s far better at this thinking thing than you are. “Go on. You can do it.”

You repeat the action, go further this time. Try to establish a rhythm with each lift and dip. He is so fucking huge, he stuffs you to the brim. With how long it’s been, you wonder how it’s so easy for you to take him like that.

“Good… good, yes, take it all,” Jungkook encourages.

You don’t know when your eyes squinted shut so tightly, but when you leave out an idiotic whine, looking at him, he’s staring at you with utter, dirty pleasure.

“You do look like you needed it,” he breathes. “Me. My cock.”

“Nnngh, I— yours.”

“Just my cock, is that right?”

He’s milking it. Absolutely getting off on your repetition, your sexual frustration, the way your body craves his. Back arched, sensual movements above him that scramble his thoughts.

And your tits. They’re jiggling, restless, sweat beads between them and hair strands stuck to them.

He clenches his jaw; his biceps bulge when he grabs you harder, makes you yelp.

“You’re so… beautiful,” he says, and your movements slow down just a little.

Your throat hurts from the heavy breaths, from the whisper of his name. You bounce on him for another few seconds, hands on his tummy, arms pushing your tits together.

And then, you near his lips. Seek his kiss, say against his mouth, “I don’t compare to you.”

“Do you… compare to anyone, though?”

“Jungkook…”

Another damn, tender-sweet call of his name. It drives him crazy.

His hands sneak to your ass, lifting it far, and slam it back down. Your lips spread wide, above and below, and your eyes roll back in your head.

“Come here,” he says before your tongues meet again.

Only the tongues. No true kiss.

He wraps your hair in his hand, rolls it behind your head and holds it there in a makeshift bun. When he snaps his hips against yours, you feel the tug at your scalp, but it elicits an odd… ecstatic pain.

Your entire body shivers.

In the heat of the moment, as he kisses you until breathless, his cock slips out once. Immediately, he guides it back to your cunt, and when he drives it back in again, he seems to lose his mind.

Because suddenly, he’s jackhammering into you. Swiftly, controlled and calculated, but hard.

You fall against him with all your weight, immediately sorry.

“O–oh, Ju—”

His name transforms into a lengthy moan, and within a moment, you bury your mouth into the crook of his neck. Muffling the sound, still loud against his skin when he holds your ass in place, balls slapping against it, pounding into you.

But the moment is short lived.

Because merely a minute later, just when your pussy starts clenching around his veins, he lifts you off of him once and for all. He pushes you onto your back, leaving you clueless and wincing.

And before you can blink again, he’s pulling you down the bed by your legs, angling one of it against your stomach before he licks his thumb.

“It is finally my turn, isn’t it?”

Oh, goodness.

Oh, shit.

Fuck, is he…?

Yes… yes, he’s crawling down, still sporting a standing, glistening, crazy wet dick, ready to eat you alive.

“Is this revenge… for me almost killing you?” you ask.

He clicks his tongue, but — when he looks at you, his breath hitches. The rise of your chest is mesmerising; the clenched fists adorable.

And your lecherous gaze mixes with amusement. He can’t help but laugh, but simultaneously feel a stinging ache in his chest.

Worse than ever before.

If everything he has felt for you until now was yearning, then this must be something… something far beyond his understanding.

“No,” he murmurs, shaking his head just a little. “This is me pouring all my desire into you.” He raises the leg he priorly angled, and kisses above your ankle. “All of what I feel for you.”

The muscles of your face relax. You can’t even smile — you’re frozen in place. Falling into his dark eyes.

“Yes?” he asks.

And you nod. Whisper, “Yes.”

Which is all Jungkook needs.

His face drops between your legs like yours did before. Licking his lips, he parts your thighs again, caressing your flesh. And then, his soft, nimble digits move up to your clit, raising it with a finger and a thumb on either side.

For a second, he reciprocates your weak smile, holds your stare. But then, his eyes close softly. Eyelashes brush his cheeks. And the tip of his tongue…

Darts out and flicks over your tiny bud.

And the touch’s effect is immediate.

Your nerves burn up when he licks around your clit, and then comes back straight to it again. Never harshly, but so, so tenderly, only allowing you a tiny touch. Not pressing against it, not pushing it too far.

It affects you the most; so soft and fond and careful.

He knows… he knows what he’s doing.

When your body responses edge him on, he increases the pace, flattening his tongue a little more before he finally moves down from your clit and between your pussy.

One hand holds a leg apart, pushes it back against your stomach again, and then runs down to your ass. His fingers and his mouth, the breath that falls against your wet cunt; all of it combined makes you dizzy.

The same palm reaches for your breasts, squeezes and massages one of it, and then, sneaks down to your entrance where he doesn’t push inside. Only teases you.

And amidst all the inner chaos, you choke his name, repeatedly, “Jungkook… Kook—”

“Hmm…”

“I think I will…”

He hums again, this time in agreement. His nose buries into your bundle of nerves, tickling and stimulating it as he, eventually, shoves two fingers in cautiously.

“Jungkook, I will come, I—”

He doesn’t answer. Now that you have said it, you know he won’t.

Instead, he keeps going. Keeps the speed, curls his fingers, presses against the rough spot inside you. His flat tongue drinks you up, steady and rhythmic between your swollen lips; flicking and circling motions make you keen.

And then, finally…

Your orgasm shatters you inside out. The coil snaps and affects your entire lower stomach.

The world tilts off its axis, suddenly spinning too fast. You see the ceiling twice before you shut your eyes close, winding on the bed.

Jungkook fingers you through your high, and you think you feel a wet sensation along your legs and on the bed beneath you.

What is it?

You’ve never…

But…

It feels so good.

Stars float in your vision. God, if you sat up now, you’d fall back again. You’re so dizzy; your legs are shaking.

It takes a moment to realise he’s calling your name. You’re near frantic, still catching your breath.

When you hum in question, looking down at him, he’s still forcing your legs apart, fingers gone from your pussy, but his lips still pecking your sensitive clit.

“What—” you begin, reaching for his hand. “What was that?”

“You… you liked this one.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “I know. I loved it, I just…” You puff out an exhale. “It’s wet. What did you…”

Jungkook looks surprised. And then, he smiles a little, enraptured by your cluelessness. He pushes his cheek against your thigh; gazes at you like you’re a star in the sky.

You remember what he knows. Remember that he’s probably done this to so many women before — that you aren’t the first. But he doesn’t show off with those skills.

You know he understands the craft, but instead of laughing about your inexperience, he keeps smiling. Quietly and in love… and then explains, “Sweetheart, you… you finished… hard. Have you ever felt this way before?”

Unafraid to admit, you shake your head. “No. Never.”

“It was gorgeous,” he says, moving back up to you. “You were beautiful.” He settles between your legs; lets his cock prod against your hole. “You are beautiful.”

And then, he’s pushing in again.

Reflexively, you hold onto his shoulders. You gasp and moan when he shoves himself all the way in, oh-so-slowly. He pins your knee against his waist; wraps his fingers around one of your wrists to raise it above your head.

His eyes are fluttering close, and he’s trying his hardest to keep them open.

So are you.

Until you can’t anymore; until both pairs of eyes finally shut, and he hugs you close, melting both your skins as his mouth attaches to your neck.

Your pussy is aching; it feels like you’re still riding the waves of the prior orgasm, and he’s already pulling another out of you.

“Jungkook, it feels…”

So good. But so new, too. No partner has ever cared for you like that.

“Hm?” he speaks against your neck, kissing you softly. “Am I hurting you?”

“No… no, I just. I cannot say if I can… again—”

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“No,” you repeat.

“Does it feel good?”

“...Yes.”

Jungkook shifts on the bed, deeper and harder inside you now, lets your wrist go; his ass must be moving so swiftly, like he’s dancing against you. You wish you could see it from above.

He asks, “Do you want me to stop? If it is too much, then…”

He hasn’t come yet. And you don’t want him gone yet. Not now, not ever.

So you whisper truthfully, “No… Please don’t stop.”

“Then,” he says, suddenly delivering a ball-deep stroke, remaining there for a moment. You’re so breathless that you can’t even moan. “You can take it. Once more, my angel.”

And that’s it.

What follows is a series of almost relentless snaps. He’s vocal, and the arms around you still suggest complete devotion; but the way he fucks into you dampens your waterline.

You hold onto him, moving your hands up and down the expanse of his back, down to his ass. Following his movements, fearing for the creaking bed.

No matter what you do, you won’t be able to hide this from Jiyoo anymore.

It’s awkward; but right now, you don’t have it in you to care.

It takes one more minute; his pelvis keeps grinding against your clit. And then, you’re clenching again. The waves aren’t as high this time as they were with his mouth on you, but they’re overwhelming nevertheless.

They’re making you tired.

And as if on cue, as you’re still mewling, he pulls out and follows — and fuck, Jungkook’s orgasms are one to remember.

No wonder he has always been popular with the ladies. Even if they weren’t in love with him as you are, the sensation of him coming undone is worth everything.

The broken groans, the taut jaw. The hisses and the alternating tone. High and whiny first, deep and enticing later.

The beautiful arch-form of his upper lip, and the plumpness of the lower lip; both parted.

Shit.

When he’s pumped himself empty, covered your stomach with his seed, you’re spent; all he whispers is another, “…Incredible.” He wipes the hair out of your face, and adds, “I promise you I have never felt this way before.”

“Me neither,” you answer. Your voice is weak.

Both of you feel like you have run all the distance from your home; your heads are spinning, and you’re soaked in sweat.

He falls next to you, calms his heart.

The next minutes pass in a blur, quietly, sweetly, patiently.

Jungkook, once he’s recovered, stands. Scours the room for a handkerchief, and finds one in his sky blue coat. You grimace when he chooses it to wipe away his climax, saying, “I am sorry for ruining your cloth.”

“This one?” he asks, shaking his head. “I could use your gown, then.”

You laugh, slapping his arm, “Do not.”

He flicks his hair off his forehead, and stands once he’s done. Slips into his clothes and then says, “Wait here. I will get a wet cloth and some water.”

You nod. “It’s not like I can walk, honestly.”

And that’s how another hour plays out. It might be late and you feel incredibly tired, but wasting your moments with Jungkook feels inefficient.

It’s only when your eyes start drooping once and for all that your jokes die; and Jungkook says,

“I am falling for you. So hard.”

Against his chest, your eyes blow wide. Your lips tug upward.

No matter how many confessions he utters… you cannot get used to them.

“But my uncle’s eyes are set on us all the time.” Your smile drops immediately. “He does not want to risk any scandal between us. Says we can wait with… this shenanigan until after the marriage. Just wants me to formally court you.”

“He cannot,” you argue, cuddling into him, “stop you from falling for me. You can have me either way. No matter what he says.”

“It just hurts to be observed when I just want to be here. With you. The nights we spent away from balls were the only ones he didn’t see, and I felt… free.”

Your guts twist. You hate that you’re the first to provide such a humane feeling; hate that he feels like a caged bird.

You listen, “He did not mind my affairs so much, because according to him, that’s what men do. That’s why he doesn’t suspect anything now, either. It’s why I am here.”

He laughs in mock; the words sting in your chest.

“But he would mind with you. Because you are my wife-to-be and part of the peerage. Other women are too common to him; but you are too important to have your reputation tarnished.”

“But I choose to do all of this with you. To be with you.”

“Yes, I just… I wish I could fall for you without his watchful eye on us,” he repeats.

You pause, tapping against his chest.

Grinding your teeth, you think back to other balls. You don’t think you saw the Duke much, but… back in that dark room. When you and Jungkook…

He was quick to find you there.

“He never lets us out of his sight,” you say, more a statement than a question.

“Unfortunately.”

“Scary.”

Jungkook moves under you. “But. Let us talk about something else now.”

“Yes,” you immediately agree. Your heart feels too heavy. “Like what?”

He hums, thinking, and then says, “You once asked me what my goals were. What makes me happy.”

You remember. “I did.”

“Well, I…” He keeps staring at the ceiling. Blinks and gulps. Admits, “I do like to draw and paint. I wish to finish a big portrait one day.”

“Why did you not before?”

“Not much time to think about dreams.”

You silence. Then, you nod, and say, “Then I wish for you to reach that goal.”

“Mhm,” he makes, rubbing your arm. “And you?”

Not a difficult question. You read too much; novels stay glued to your hands. You must have thought about this a million times before, so your answer is immediate.

“I wish I was better at writing,” you tell him.

“Who says you are bad?”

“I do.”

“I do not believe this.”

You chuckle. He’s so warm against you; you should hate it in this summer heat. But he feels comforting. His touch and his encouragement are lovely.

“Perhaps I can show you one day,” you say.

A peck lands on your head; you feel the nod, cherishing the quietude until he questions, “Can you tell me something else about you?”

Hmm…

A harder question.

There are a thousand things about you; naturally, you cannot think of one now.

But when you look up to the same ceiling as him, thinking, you notice the flickering candlelight again. It’s dimmer now; maybe you should blow out the flame.

It reminds you of something, too, though.

So you answer, “When I get scared, I look for something that calms me down. Like a big tree to hide under. The starry sky.” Like his eyes. “Or a lake. I— oh, I once found comfort in fireflies.”

Back when you were younger, you’d sometimes sneak out of those fancy balls and walk along a garden until someone caught you. Jungkook, fooling around with his friends on his trail, saw you under those trees sometimes.

Weird that he remembers.

He doesn’t mention it, though; instead, he asks, “Fireflies?”

“They glow!” you say; your pure, enthusiastic voice makes him laugh. “No, but they do. Why do they? If not for us to admire them. Some find them strange, but I find them wonderful… shows that everyone and everything is worth admiring.”

That poetic gene again. You will never stop dreaming; and he will never stop adoring this quality of yours.

“Me too?” he asks.

“You are…” You wait. Think. Then add, “Extraordinary, Jungkook.”

He snickers for a moment, presumably because your hesitation suggested otherwise. But the proximity and your touch on him, still cuddling closer and closer, must prove that you mean it.

Squeezing your body, he mumbles some praises you barely understand; all you do is enjoy the foolery for a moment.

Until his joy falls once more, and the room becomes quiet again, and his smile drops, and you ask, “What’s wrong?”

Slowly and hushed, incredibly unsure, he asks, “What about my uncle? Is he… worth admiring, too?”

His uncle…

He feels less humane at least. Not even you can deny it.

But in your old, gentle manner, always believing in the good nature of people, you say, “I think there is often a reason why people turn bad. Not always. But his type of anger seems to have a trigger. I… I want to know about it.”

Another beat of pause.

Arms that tug you close, as if to protect you from an immediate demon in the room.

He breathes hope into his lungs, quieter than before. You don’t discuss the argument you had before all the intimacy; questioning your intentions won’t change reality now, and he knows.

He chooses to trust you; even if your actions entail dangerous lies.

You mean it well.

So all he whispers is, “You shall… I hope you are right with all this.”

Bliss isn’t the first phenomenon you expect upon waking. Considering the situation and the purpose of your journey, you should be on edge, dreading each revelation another morning brings.

But despite whatever truth you’re searching, the one you found in the candlelit night won’t leave your mind.

And it consists of.

One, the fact that the act has fallen; whatever touch Jungkook planted on you last night was real.

And two, the realisation that all the emotions you deemed feigned, all the starry affection his eyes carried… all of it was real, too.

Has been real.

His uncle built the cage that trapped Jungkook with unbreakable steel, and each moment you look into your lover’s eyes, you see the urge to break free.

None of it is an act anymore.

But with your distrust falling, perhaps you can indulge in whatever Jeon Jungkook as a person is. To unveil more of his true self and break the cage for him. You’d introduce another play, but skip to the very last act right away.

You wish you could tell him if the other side of the bed wasn’t empty. His warmth lingers, but he’s missing.

So you flutter your eyes open and lift your body with a long yawn. The long-case clock shifts into focus once you’ve blinked away your sleepy blur, and you realise that you’re not quite having an early morning after all.

It’s close to eleven. You don’t think you’ve slept in so late in a long time; not since you were genuinely ill the last time. But then again, you were occupied most of last night, too.

Draping the dress over you that Jiyoo provided yesterday, you come to a stand. You feel the ache between your legs immediately; your limbs’ muscles are still recovering.

If the man who caused it was here, he’d probably smile. Perhaps he’d make it worse. You don’t know, but you keep fantasising.

The door opens with a creak; the moment you step out into the main room, you recognise within a second that the house is empty. You don’t hear any shuffling, no voices, no conversation.

A chirping bird sits on the windowsill; along with the wooden furniture and the bright sunlight seeping into the room, the little mockingbird drowns the cottage in a fairy-tale glow.

And the next existence you register is him.

Standing near the entrance door, lost in whatever thoughts. Your steps are light, but he notices your presence when you dig further into the room. His head snaps towards you, arms folded.

His voice is as gentle as yesterday, though a little more fatigued when he says, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

Presumably half expecting that you might join him in the nearly noon sun, he draws a deep sigh and turns back. And you’re fully intending to.

If the old cupboard next to you didn’t catch your attention.

Through its glass door, you see a variation of decoration. Little ceramic figures. Copper cutlery and cups that look untouched and dusty. And amidst all the possessions, you notice little drawings, framed.

There are a handful of them.

Merely pieces that showcase a girl and a woman, the mother as you assume. And that very mother looks like Jiyoo, so you can only guess that the girl’s the daughter you’re looking for.

They’re smiling on all of them; it’s like the drawings narrate a story from early childhood to late teenagehood.

The reality that strokes of pencils paint is fascinating to you. Pictures taken from the mind and eternalised on paper; for someone who has never attempted proper art, creativity of such calibre is mind-blowing to you.

You could keep staring at the old pieces.

But then a thought distracts you, though if you think about it, it isn’t very surprising.

There’s not a trace of a man…

It must have been hard for them to live without a husband, or a father figure. But such a life strengthens a mother-daughter-bond, too, does it not?

Judging from the emotions you perceive from their expressions, they’re a happy duo — you wonder how Jiyoo copes with the solitude around here. Her only daughter and solace is travelling; it must affect a single mother somehow.

If you had the power to take everyone’s pain…

You flinch when Jungkook calls your name again. Realising your absence next to him, his voice carries a fragment of confusion; so you turn to him and away from the dusty cupboard.

His back is plastered to the doorframe, and his face is a silhouette against the sun. He’s standing more to the outside than inside of the house, so you don’t see the raised eyebrows turn into a fond expression until you’ve stepped closer.

You press your back against the other side of the doorframe, facing him with a distance of mere two feet between you. The warm countryside breeze blows some of the untamed hair into your face, and he reaches out, pushes it back. Your skin tingles again.

Soft fingers barely grazing your cheek, he asks, “Are you feeling well?”

His expression is worried; his tone is careful.

Do you look unwell?

In spite of the circumstances, you can’t help but feel radiant.

“Hm?” you hum, frozen in place. “Yes. Why?”

Red-pink lips press together and then release. Jungkook has a dozen habits, but this is one you find oddly endearing; a smack of his lips, like he’s tasting heaven. The way he looked last night, too.

It might evoke irritation in a hundred people, but you, perceiving the world through rose-tinted lenses and utterly biased, crave this very mouth.

You’d cherish it a little longer if he didn’t look so worried. Bobbing his Adam’s apple when he swallows and murmurs, “Just… after last night.”

“I do,” you’re quick to bolster. “Of course I do.”

Jungkook hesitates; his eyes hide behind his bangs when the gust scatters them across his forehead. But when he clears his sight, you see relief in his shiny orbits.

“Good,” he says, “I was uneasy because you…”

The dangling, unfinished sentence is clear enough. His dropping head speaks for his silence, and he shuffles his feet, unconsciously bringing them closer to yours and sliding a few inches down the frame.

He is uneasy, because he worries you might regret it. Your willingness beneath him, the permission for him to leave no spot untouched. He’s scared he might have sullied you, but the colours your soul lit up in begged to differ.

You understand his point of view — after all that has happened to the both of you, the thought isn’t too far-fetched, right?

But you still say, “You don’t need to be worried.”

It’s all he needs. When his shoulders drop, you know that his fears have, too, before he verbalises it, “I’m relieved then.”

You flash one last smile for good measure, accompanied by a gentle nod. He’s close enough for you to touch; his movements pass in slow motions when a voice whispers to you to reach out.

Perhaps you could sidle back into the room; writhe under the sheets. Taste the future your heart urges you to approach. You hunger for more confessions. More breathless moments.

But the recurring fantasy of a utopian future reminds you—

The miniscule moment of oblivion crumbles when nature’s scent wafts towards you again. It smells different from the city. The house you were invited into, and the fields outside.

They look different from what you know.

So you ground yourself, snap out of it.

And ask, “Why’s the house empty?”

“She’s picking fruit.” Jungkook squints at the bright horizon, nodding towards a figure in the distance. “She was already gone when I stepped out.”

“Oh. When was that?”

“Just a couple minutes before you did.”

His dangling arms lift and he pushes his hands behind his back, supporting it. Now that he has confirmed the absence of your regrets, he isn't looking at you anymore. You wonder if there’s more that’s bothering him.

Maybe the fever of last night didn’t leave him as inebriated and lovesick as you.

Your romanticising self who’s hoping that you woke up, because you noticed his absence.

You who’s wondering what his first thought was as he saw you sleeping there. Curious whether he thought the same things that you did when you met his dozing form in the mausoleum. Or if he was rather lost in the creeping worries he spoke of.

Either way, he looks calmer now.

For a minute or two, you close your eyes and soak in the sun’s warmth in silence. Your mind blanks, but as time keeps stretching on, a question about the further plan forms in the back of your mind.

Reluctantly, you pull your eyelids apart, ready to discuss today and tomorrow and forever with him before a pleasant voice sing-songs, “Good morning!”

You didn’t hear her approaching, so you recoil immediately, dropping an eye shut again. It takes a moment to realise that they’re both laughing at your antics, and all you manage to react with is a flat hand over your dress. Eliminating wrinkles that aren’t there.

She doesn’t lose a word about last night. She must have heard — but she understands the concept that privacy is.

You’re grateful.

Timidly, you walk back into the house, watching her place two baskets on the table. She takes out a handful of the fruit, washes it quickly before she places it in a bowl and offers, “Fresh strawberries. Would you like some?”

Jungkook and you share a look; he shrugs his shoulders, pointing to the table with a friendly smirk, as if to encourage you to respond. And when you stall your answer some more, she looks up at you, eyebrows adorably raised.

“Um,” you laugh, nearing the table with a straight back, “of course. I’ve never had fresh strawberries.”

Jungkook takes a stand next to you, uttering a mannerful, Thank you, before he grabs a juicy strawberry for himself. Its intense taste could be enough for you to forget about the issue on hand.

His mind must have surely eliminated the thought, because he starts nodding with pleased hums, repeating over and over again, “They’re so sweet. They’re incredible.”

For a minute, both you and her admire his appetite and manners. The constant praises as though she just invented strawberries herself. She glances at you; her eyes reveal that she deems you lucky, and you throw a proud smile back.

You giggle when Jungkook throws his head back; when he looks back at you, his eyes are glowing, slowly blinking as if he’s seen the doors to Heaven. But the next bite changes his expressions, eyebrows kissing like the food has offended him.

He must be exaggerating, but you find it ridiculously endearing.

Yet, no matter how lighthearted your journey becomes, something lingers in your mind that no fruit can eliminate. You can’t fall into distractions again, and you think that’s what he is doing right now. Probably just waiting for this afternoon, though.

“They are very sweet indeed,” Jiyoo says. “I like to think that mine are the best around here.”

This will never end. Next topic.

“Thank you for them!” you hasten, wiping the corner of your lips. “Do you need any help with anything?”

Maybe a moment alone could help you out. Just a few minutes to find out more.

You must not forget that you need Suhana’s presence here. If you could just take her with you to town for a while… to have her talk to the Duke, speak some sense into him. Tell him to stop sending the money and tormenting his family…

But to your chagrin, she shakes her head immediately and assures, “Not at all. Cannot let my guests work.”

“Oh, I just thought,” you gulp, “you might need help to prepare for this afternoon.”

“Hm?”

She looks confused. Strange.

“Your daughter,” you explain; not quite sure why you need to, “since she is returning, I reckoned you might have your hands full. I could provide one.”

The brief silence that follows is awkward; soon broken when she promises, “Oh, no. She won’t be back in a couple of hours, so I will rest just a little for now.”

Strange, strange, strange.

Unable to prod, you nod, whispering a fading, Alright, before your gaze shifts outside the window. You can’t figure out the atmosphere here. The woman seems genuine, but her mind keeps wandering off.

Why is everyone hiding something? Why is no one straightforward?

You could just lean back, like Jungkook, and wait. But there’s this nagging feeling inside you…

“If you’d like,” she begins. Pauses until the two of you look at her. She uses the fact that your eyes keep fixating on the outside; you know that she does when she says, “You could take a walk in the meantime. I could prepare lunch. It’s a beautiful day.”

Yes. Maybe that’s what you truly need.

Jungkook begins to form a rejection, but you interrupt, overshadowing his soft voice, “We shall! We haven't had an opportunity to do so yet.”

You never thought Jungkook could ever showcase such a shy side of him. Because when you look at him, he looks baffled for a moment, his usually confident self cluelessly stuttering.

That is, until he registers the silent plea in your eyes, and echoes, “We shall.”

You spend the minutes fixing your hair and your clothes, jumping into the ones you wore yesterday, with half your attention to the sounds in the kitchen.

Your pupils fog when your ears get used to the resonant clinking of steel tableware; and then, your sight clears each time you think you notice another voice.

But there’s never anything or anyone other than her and her engrossed hums.

Jungkook changes in another room, and doesn’t disturb your thoughts either when you tackle the path up the hill. You haven’t properly heard his voice since last night, and somewhere in the back of your mind, the fact renders you uncomfortable.

But the forefront of your head is filled with the riddles that plague the cottage down there. You can’t wrap a finger around it; or perhaps you can, but you don’t want to accept it as the truth. Because despite her kindness, the iffiness is almost palpable.

It wasn’t yesterday; not when she stepped into the house earlier. But her confusion. The insecurity in her eyes.

You need to know.

However…

You stop in your tracks, watching a ladybug cross the path. You don’t look at his face, deep in your thoughts, but tell him, “I cannot stay much longer. My parents will grow suspicious.”

A short silence, only broken by the birds’ songs.

You glance up at him, awaiting a solution, disappointed when all he comes up with is, “You can leave if you need to. I won’t hold you ba—”

“I know,” you interrupt softly, daring one step closer. “I know. But nothing in me wants to leave you alone.” You tilt your head, look down to the house. “You’d need a carriage, if I left.”

You gesture to said vehicle, hands nervously flailing around when you add, “And… besides, I crave the truth as much as y—”

Fingers around your wrist stop your frantic movements, pulling your chest close to his. If you leaned in, your nose might brush his; his dizzying breath mingles with the scent of the trees.

Intense eyes dig into yours; his pupils are shaking, looking for an answer in yours without uttering the question. And it seems he doesn’t find one when his eyebrows relax again.

Deep breath drawn, you shake your head slightly, adding an inquiry to your puzzlement, “What’s wrong?”

“Why,” he begins, a firm hold around your wrist, “are you doing this for me?”

You hold his stare. Realise his quietude all morning bit by bit. The worries, the way he dodged your eyes, the uncertain stance.

You thought he knew why. That he understood that you feel the same for him as vice versa.

What is it?

Is he scared you might leave, that your infatuation with him will end once this is over? Does he think last night will become a fleeting memory? Does the thought of letting you go hurt him, too; has he really fallen hard, too?

What if you told him now…

Fuck it.

No what ifs. No uncertainty.

You need to try.

“Because,” you say, carefully diving into the truth, “I am ready to do anything for you. I want to find my way back to you once and for all, and I want you to heal. And I need to separate him from you. For you to find a family member you can trust.”

His lips part. The expression is so painfully pure that your heart parts, too.

You say, “It’s what you deserve, and what we deserve.”

“We do.”

The answer comes quickly. Reassuringly. The grip around your arm grows softer, and he lets his hand, along with yours, fall to the side.

You use the opportunity to wriggle out of his digits, and instead, graze your fingertips along his palm until you’re holding his hand just barely.

“The way we were last night.” Your voice is a whisper now. If the wind blew any harder, he wouldn’t be able to take in a single word. “I want it every night. Not just our bare bodies, but… your touch on me. No matter how.”

Your fingers entangle, but you’re still not holding each other firmly. It reminds you of the night it rained; after you snuck into the theatre. Insane how much has changed; insane how much hasn’t.

Jungkook is still listening, but the sparkle in his eyes is changing. He’s still… pining for you.

The bittersweet ache in his gaze is apparent; the one that longing evokes. The ache that urges one to reach out and trap the other in a ceaseless embrace.

“It felt right,” you continue. “So I don’t want this to go wrong.”

His breathing alters; the apples of his cheeks blush. You nod, as if to say—

I know. I want you closer, too.

He swallows his insecurities, shuffling nearer to your body as if on cue; you feel breathless despite the fresh air. You need to skip this part. You need your glorious, blooming ending now.

His other hand lifts to your arm slowly. Settles there, and then moves to the crook between your neck and shoulder in tiny motions.

His skin burns against yours; much as last night. But when the shiver he elicits comes in touch with him, the heat evaporates.

You feel at ease.

Though your face still warms when he asks, “Is that what you wish for, sweetheart? To be with me?”

To be with him.

How exemplary it sounds.

“If I spoke about an ideal ending,” you say, “then I think that would be it.”

“Good,” he murmurs; his whisper nearly matches yours now. “Good. I want it, as well.”

You put a gentle hand on his. Wrap it around his fingers, let them drift to your jaw and cheek. When you smile, he responds in kind, and when all words have been spoken, you say, “Come.”

Still hand in hand, you tug him forwards — only to realise that Jungkook might not have said all he needed to after all.

Because he pulls you back immediately, risking a clash; he seems to like doing this. You want to laugh and tease him, lean into the kiss you expect.

But his tone is still serious. Agonisingly mild when he admits, “I meant it. I… I told you I fell for you, and I meant it.”

He’s said this so many times, and yet—

Your stomach turns. Butterflies escape their cocoons, raging as you take him in carefully. His pupils are still now, different from before. He looks sure. No trace of doubt.

You realise it, too. Echo in your mind that yes, yes, he means it.

And tell him, “I know.”

But he clarifies further, “I do not merely want this to end, because I need the truth about my cousin. Or because I need her help to end his tyranny. And also not only, because I need someone else to confide in. But, because I need you back, too.”

Growing up, you learned to never be dependent on anyone. You consider the women in your house strong; because they taught you that—

“You don’t need anybody in life, Jungkook.”

“Maybe,” he agrees. “But I do need you, so I can understand what this life thing is. You lead a path to understanding. I’m not as strong as you, you see?” He angles his head. Beautiful even in his grief. “I wouldn’t have found it myself.”

And suddenly, you do realise… It isn’t wrong to need anyone.

There is no defeat in admitting it. No weakness. That Jungkook wants you by his side, to flourish, to heal, to love — is a strength, if anything, isn’t it?

You blink slowly, tenderly; the fondness in your eyes is real and unfiltered, soft when you touch his jaw and say, “We will be alright.”

A belief that crumbles just a bit later on. Suddenly and harshly.

As you walk back to the cottage, something finally happens.

The fog of fragility clears; it helped to know where he stands with you. And it lets you see the world without those blurry glasses you wore before that very walk; lets you concentrate on this journey and its purpose better.

But then again…

It means that you’re more impatient, too — forgetting Jiyoo’s kindness and overthinking the insecurity from this morning. Your mind works at double speed.

Just — nothing is happening, and you feel like you betrayed Jungkook with the promise that everything would turn out okay. And it drives you crazy.

You linger for another few hours, waiting for someone to arrive who doesn’t. You grow more suspicious by the minute; and when early evening finally breaks in, and the house still only carries three people, you take a stand.

Perhaps you are just suddenly nervous; but being trapped in a stranger’s house, waiting for a glorious revelation tires you out. And Jiyoo… she barely talks to you anymore, busy with her duties.

No. This isn’t right.

“Where are you going?” Jungkook asks, flinching out of his thoughts from the other corner of the bed.

You wonder how he got any thinking done at all, with you pacing the room in idle steps. Waiting for something.

“I don’t know,” you snap. “Out. To find something. Or her. I don’t know.”

You must admit that part of your impatience goes hand in hand with the fact that time is running out. You can’t remain here for the rest of your days, so you need to find out why she’s keeping you at this place and not revealing the truth.

So you shake your head with a smack of your lips, rushing to the main room slash kitchen. Jungkook’s steps follow closely; he’s saying something. Coming up with theories. Which you understand — it’s natural that he’s still hoping.

But you can’t ignore the empty house anymore. Or the time of day. Or Jiyoo’s silence.

You scan the room for clues; anything you might notice. A false fever burns up your forehead; half of you is anxious for Jiyoo’s return, and the other half wants to confront her right here, right now.

Jungkook’s voice shifts into the background. You’re doing this for him — but it’s fascinating how your mind shuts him out, muffling his words, slowly spiralling into insanity. You don’t know yourself like this. Funny what love and care can do to you.

“Listen—”

It’s him again.

A heavy hand falls on your shoulder, attempting to turn you around, but you’re too busy cramming through the content of some cupboard drawer. It’s the same one with the glass doors; the one inhabiting the drawings.

Your eyes shift up to them, but your sight is blurry. You breathe in, shaking your head as you inhale the drawing’s dark hair. The eyes. A child’s eyes.

If the room wasn’t quaking like this, you’d admire the talent more. Maybe ask her for a lesson.

Instead, all you manage is a broken answer to Jungkook, eyelids suddenly heavy, “This is all ridiculous. It’s evening. What is happening? Is she just late?”

Because maybe you are exaggerating. Travels can be hindered; arrival can be postponed.

But the nagging feeling…

“Listen to me,” he repeats, stepping next to you. Out of habit, he brushes back the strands that escaped as you searched; but your eyes stay fixated on the drawings. “You need to go home. I will unveil the secrets, and I will ensure that we remain together.”

Yes, you know that’s what he intends to do. But seeing the truth will take him far too long. It won’t come easy to him if he doesn’t put all the puzzle pieces together — his way of solving this problem relies too much on Suhana’s actual presence.

But you see something else.

Those drawings, their eyes, the age, all of it tells you something else.

Maybe you’re waiting for nothing. And maybe it’s time to demand an explanation.

As something clicks in your mind, you form one yourself — an idea you desperately need to be wrong. But you guess there’s only one person to confirm it.

So you blend out the little pleas Jungkook voices. You don’t know whether it’s the situation or your sudden outburst that worries him more.

But he’s still confused when you step away, arguing about something that you might come back to later.

For now, you walk to the back of the house, to the stall with the cows, interrupting Jiyoo’s milking session. Jungkook follows and shuts his mouth once you find yourself face-to-face with her.

She looks up from the animals with a deep sigh. Upon detecting you slowly walking closer, she smiles; you assume that another hospitable suggestion lies on her tongue.

Maybe she’ll ask whether you’re hungry. Or if you’d like to converse with her, keep her company.

Anything but the truth; some twisted method to keep you here, for whatever reason.

But here’s what you know.

Suhana seemingly still sends letters to the Duke.

But Jiyoo let slip on the very first night that her bed has always been too large for her alone, as though she always sleeps in it alone — and that the only other room remains for guests solely. Her dining table is tiny, barely enough for one person. And her daughter’s name alone saddens her.

It’s as though she invented a daughter, or as though the girl left, and the mother continued to receive money.

Too odd.

And you’re done beating around the bush.

So you state more than you ask, “She’s not coming.”

The corners of her lips drop immediately. Her hands leave the poor cow’s udder, wiping at the apron to avoid your gaze. But you can still see how her eyes fill with sorrow.

Like she’s sorry. Whether about being caught or about something else, you don’t know.

And she refuses to answer.

Silent, lost in her head. You look at Jungkook, and he looks terrified — like you, he expected a solution to your problems. The accusation you just uttered must overwhelm him.

And he wants to ask — you know. But he wants to hear Jiyoo’s response, too.

So he remains silent, as does she. Jiyoo only flinches, looking up at you when you call her name, blinking the misery away as you ask again,

“Where is she?” Pause. And then, “Who is she?”

You prefer the solace of your leisure room to the commotion at balls.

Maybe because you’ve, while socially competent, always chosen silence over hour-long socialising. And you’ve always guessed that you got it from your father.

The ball gown dances around your legs when you advance towards him. Your fingers half-nervously fold over your tummy, teeth nibbling at your lips. You’ll need to check your reflection before you leave — maybe relax the crinkles on your forehead.

Your father notices you mid-yawn, raising both his eyebrows as a greeting that you counter with a smile. The collars of his button-up stand tall, glasses sliding down his nose. He must’ve ran his fingers through his hair, because he looks worn out.

“Are you certain you’re not attending the ball?” you ask.

You place a hand on the arms of his chair. Your question doesn’t sound too worried — more like you’re making sure that he stays right here. It won’t be much of a dangerous affair for your mother or your sister — you doubt they know details of whatever your father involved himself in.

Or at least you hope so. Because they will be accompanying you tonight.

“Very likely not,” he answers. A book lies on his lap; probably a well-deserved break between the work that’s spread on the table in front of him. He points to it. “And I do not think I need to attend every party anyway.”

You don’t, either. In fact, you somewhat envy him, because he gets to stay at home, blissfully unaware of what might happen in someone else’s mansion.

Maybe it’s easiest for him to remain here and drown in work.

A short glance at the papers reveals that this time, he’s not handling business circling around the Duke or his daughter. These are common names and common numbers. Just paperwork like on any other day.

You’re relieved.

Yet, you fear the worst — what if the stack of doom is hiding somewhere underneath the harmless pile?

“Good,” you say. You wait; then ask, “Is it still the same case as last time?”

And to your comfort, he immediately shakes his head, thick eyebrows shooting to the sky, “Oh no. Boring paperwork tonight.”

“Good,” you repeat.

You turn half your body away from him, still fumbling with your fingers. You hear him clear his throat, drum against the back of his book. His eyes flit back and forth between the novel and his work; he must be back in his thoughts, debating what to do next.

For a moment, you let him. Think of leaving him alone, putting your trust in him.

But the itch on your tongue won’t still; so you inhale through your nose, tremendously nervous, and blurt, “Do not get involved in royal business anymore.” He looks up at you, shock written in your eyes. You shrink where you stand, and quietly add a shy, “Please.”

“What?”

“The thing with the Duke and his daughter. I know you had no other choice and he is influential, but do not accept illegal requests anymore.”

“Darling,” he begins, shifting in his seat, “if I am ever made to do it, I must follow orders.”

Lost in the adrenaline, you spit, “You won’t have to, I am sure.”

And that’s what shuts him up once and for all. He leans back again, knuckles pushing back his glasses as he likes to do. His eyes are indecipherable behind the reflection of the lusters, but you hear the confusion in his voice.

“How are you so sure, though?” he wants to know. Perhaps he thinks you’re worried for him — when the bewilderment dies, he flashes an endeared smile. “Do you possess any knowledge I do not?”

If you could, you’d give into your nervous ticks again. But if you bit your lip again now, he’d know that he hit a mark.

You choose to stay neutral, neither forming a lie nor giving him the truth. Instead, you vaguely inform, “Well. I am trying to confirm a theory. But you don’t need to play the messenger anymore.”

“And you do?” he asks, suddenly worried. “Not quite sure whether I am liking the mission you assigned to yourself.”

“Oh, it is not a mission,” you say. Somehow, it is. But then again, it isn’t. You guess that your first priority is truly just to confirm something. Everything else shall be dealt with later. “I am being careful.”

“You better be. Do not get involved either.”

“Father, believe me, I—”

“They’re not a joke, those royals. If I am staying out of it, you are even more so.”

You want to stomp your feet like a child. Want to roll your eyes, tongue your cheek. But what good would it do? You’d just reveal your plans — would make clear that this isn’t just a harmless night to seek information.

So you remain quiet.

You nod. You think he wants to say more, warn you further. But you use his words to play the docile, little daughter, bow just slightly and rush out of the room before he can utter another word.

Each of your movements as you enter another luxurious house and are welcomed by the hosts comes from muscle memory.

Your head slowly scans the ball room; you digest the sceptical looks; smile towards those who greet you with warmth.

And each of your steps happens automatically. The way you halt for just a moment when the crowd comes into view, admiring the glass decoration while simultaneously wondering if the money could’ve been spent on something more efficient.

How your hand lays on Jungkook’s arm has turned into a habit, too. Probably not just for you — because the part of the guests who doesn’t look at you like it’s brewing another rumour, looks at you like you’re already married.

They don’t stare at you like anything strange ever happened between the two of you; it’s like the brunch never occurred. No one talks about it. Of course they don’t. How would they know about your rage; his mistakes?

You wish you could bask in that peace and his touch. If there was a possibility to dance the night away without those intrusive thoughts and the lingering anxiety, you’d take it without hesitation.

But tonight serves a bigger purpose. And all the habits you think you knew might come crumbling down; something might change this time.

You think it will… soon. But for now you gaze back at those who have their eyes fixated on you.

Do they ever blink?

Honestly, they’re only this obsessed with you, because you’re still the girl courted by the Duke’s bachelor nephew. By the Lord Jeon Jungkook — a pairing still unusual; not least because of your polar reputations.

Men must care less; they don’t focus on you too much. Though they do look surprised. And a dozen women — they are jealous of you.

And then there’s you, worried how long this bond might last. Scared of how this night might end, because you don’t know its results yet.

You walk through the hall, mustering utmost elegance, looking around. Smiling under the Duke’s careful stare. He might not realise it — but you’re aware of the eyes that glance at you from the other side of the room, sipping whatever he chose to down.

So you behave as you’re supposed to, without ever bothering to talk to him. In all honesty, you’re terrified of him; he’s like an ominous being from nightmares.

The one who welcomes you with open arms and a pleasant smile, despite not being the host of this expensive gathering, is a mother.

Not any mother.

The Duchess herself, in all her glory.

Diamonds adorn her dress; her gloves are snow white, a contrast to her black hair. She looks like the sweetest, little woman. Can’t do anyone wrong. Big eyes, a small nose. Shorter and softer than Jungkook, but her smile is the same.

You bow deeply and immediately, angling your knees as much as you can. Hoping to gain some plus points from her and his son, but she reaches for you instantly and says, “Oh goodness, no need to!”

Which is ridiculous; of course you need to.

She gestures around, “I shall be a mere guest tonight. You can greet me as one, too.”

How do you usually greet other guests? A nod, is it? A slight bow?

But.

“You aren’t a mere guest tonight, though, Ma’am,” you say.

Jungkook stares from the side; you’re too nervous to notice his fond gaze. You’re always soft-spoken, but the tone you gave your answer in is a melody to his ears.

“Still!” she says, cheerful and sweet. “Treat me as one. I cannot take any attention from our lovely host and countess. It is her night, after all.”

It is her night indeed. What exactly she is celebrating, you cannot quite say. At this point in the summer, you usually trudge along with your mother and sister. Every event is an opportunity for you to enjoy the summer season — nothing more.

“I shall, Duchess,” you promise, and gesture gently towards her dress. “Perhaps I was too blinded by the diamonds anyway.”

She laughs wholeheartedly, nodding as if to agree, and then responds, “Your gown is gorgeous as well, though. You will need to reveal your seamstress’ name to me.”

You puff out a breath playfully, feigning an apologetic expression and joke, “A woman cannot possibly do that.”

And she tilts her head, joining in the casual fun. “That is right, I must agree.”

“But I am jesting,” you say with a shake of your head, a soft blink. “Of course I shall. Maybe we can even visit her together.”

You must delight her — her smile seems genuine at least. You know it from Jungkook; by now, you think you can differentiate a weak, forced smile from a meaningful one.

Her eyes dart over to him; he’s standing still, listening in, not uttering a word. Only lowers his head shyly when his mother focuses on him.

You wish he could break the ice a little more; apart from the greetings and introductions, he hasn’t said much. And she might be thinking the same, because she asks him, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Oh,” he voices, “this is your conversation.”

His mother smirks; God, their features are strikingly similar. Sure, blood binds them together, and their appearance and habits are bound to align. But he’s like a male mini version of her.

You see the same tenderness in her starry eyes.

You know immediately that she’s mocking him when she questions, “That’s the reason, is it?”

But you don’t fully understand her hint until you look at him. He’s beet-red, embarrassed; or possibly just liking your interaction. He looks at you like he’s dizzy.

So, so fond.

The lost expression and the gentle smile catch you off guard. You might faint like other women often feign.

You wonder if he’d catch you.

You hold his stare until his mother clears her throat; even then, you know that he’s frozen in place, eyes stuck on your profile. Barely blinks when she says, “I shall let you two be then.”

His head only darts to her amused expression when you start assuring she can interrupt anytime she’d like; but she gives a tiny wave, and sing-songs, “Enjoy the music.”

Does she mean…

Oh.

It might be your cue to join the other pairs on the dancefloor.

Not a bad tactic to implicitly push you towards the man you adore; perhaps she knows that swaying in his arms could be a prettier dream to you than just looking at him.

Maybe you’re on the same wavelength as him — or maybe he’s understood the assignment, too.

Because a second later, he lifts a finger to his ear, urging you to listen to the fading music. And then, he says, “Another round seems to be starting.”

You nod. “Seems to be.”

To which he finally stretches his hand towards you; the one you’ve held so tightly already. Fingers you tangled yours with numerous times.

A touch in the pouring rain. Finding his warmth in a cold room at the cemetery. Letting him raise your arms up the mattress, cementing your wants for each other.

But tonight, for now, it’s just the hand of a courting man. Innocent and sweet.

Not because so many people are watching, but because this purity is a side of him that you’ve grown to cherish. The softness is reserved for you; the doting eyes blend out every light and shadow around you.

And as the same sparks flicker in your chest, you accept his hand with the slightest of bows. Your annoyingly dreamy mind imagines he’s not just leading you to the dance floor but into a future, too.

At least for the moment, everything around you feels like a dream.

All the candlelight, the golden room, dozens of flower arrangements. The lusters hanging above you, reminiscent of magical castles.

And in front of you, bowing before he pulls you in, the prince who’ll escort you away from all evil.

As the music starts and you step towards him, he nearly immediately says, “Thank you.”

You tilt your head, blinking as you ask, “What for?”

“For… being you. She likes you,” he nods in a general direction; you assume his mother is standing somewhere there. “And I do, too.”

You cannot help but laugh about the sudden admission. It’s sweet; you aren’t used to much sappy talk from him. So you just tease, “I like you as well, Lord.”

“A true angel,” he nods. “You like everyone.”

“Do not call me that.”

“I think you are, though. Fell from the Heavens, but cannot remember.”

You roll your eyes, rocking with him; your feet move automatically, and your answer is just as much of a reflex, “Shut up.”

He, of course, doesn’t stop. Turns you in a circle, and then places his hand at the small of your back. Presses in as he says, “You shall get used to the name as you try remembering your celestial life.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Sorry. Perhaps you will like it one day.”

“Mh-mh,” you press your lips together, clicking your tongue. This is somewhat… fun — you almost forget the purpose of tonight. “Not even if I am reborn a dozen times.”

He chuckles; his laughter is always so lovely. Addictive. Quieter when he asks, “Do you think you’d get the chance to hear it if you were reborn, though?”

The switch to another partner is close.

Hastily, you ask, “What?”

And just as quickly, he questions, “Do you reckon we’d meet again?”

The answer stuck in your throat remains there. Because a moment later, you’re in someone else’s arms, moving tenderly, but not looking away from him.

As a silent response, you shrug your shoulders. Nod towards your dance partner when he looks into the crowd. As if to say, “Maybe it’ll be him I shall meet in my next life.”

It’s meant as a tease — and you think Jungkook understands.

From afar, he rolls his eyes; and then, for a second, he’s out of view.

It’s the only time you can ease the tension and the stress; if you can annoy him for just another moment before the tears stream, you shall.

So you indulge in the joy when you see him again. Your dance partner is quiet, doesn’t bother conversation; or maybe, he knows where your attention actually lies.

You are aware that you are being rude, but you can’t help — the way Jungkook’s gaze changes and his jaw clenches is hilarious. He isn’t truly jealous; you know. But it’s funny — letting the other man smile at you. Smiling back at him.

Jungkook isn’t hardening his jaw because of envy. But because he needed to be romantic for once, and you are being a brat.

The usual sweetness you’ve learned to love in the last days is soon replaced when he cocks an eyebrow as though to scold you from afar. A response already lies in your movements; you know what provoking him does, and you want to keep doing it.

But then, something catches your attention.

From the side of your eye, you see a family gathered near a small fountain. They’re not talking to each other, but they’re keeping the picture of being a unit intact.

Jungkook’s mother distracts herself from him as she converses with another lady next to her, and Junghyun, his brother, is busy staring into the crowd, grimacing about something. And then, close to him, stands the villain of the night.

His eyes are scanning the room, but when he notices yours on him, he holds your gaze for a second.

Lifeless.

It’s how you’ve always remembered him.

Your dance partner spins you in a circle once more, and when you seek Jungkook’s attention again, he’s already looking at you. Some of the tension evaporates for just the moment, and instead, you initiate tonight’s big moment with a nod.

The music continues for another minute, and you remain in strangers’ arms, following automatic dance moves until it’s finally quieter. You bow when the man does, and then excuse yourself with a tenderly kind voice.

It takes Jungkook a mere second to follow suit.

And when you lift your dress, hastily climbing up the stairs, you notice how wild your heartbeat is. The lack of music, or at least the fading of it, reveals the loud chaos in your head.

Your guts are twisting.

A few people still loiter around in the lit hallway that you step into. You stroll through it casually, nodding towards those who know you. Usually nosy people are seemingly too busy with something else — to your pleasure, no one asks you a lot of questions.

Or maybe, that’s because your admirer isn’t far away. When you halt and look over your shoulder, he’s still following with a distance of a few feet. Jungkook looks as nervous as you feel.

And then, when you finally reach a poorly lit place, escaping from the hungry eyes of the guests, he speeds up. The hallway is empty, and his steps echo through it.

You turn around the moment he reaches you; arms wrap around your waist immediately and gently push you against the wall, right next to a door.

Gasping, you swallow your words when his chest nears yours. You can’t see him much — you can make out his silhouette, the movements in his face, his touch.

But you hear the desperation in his voice when he whispers your name; feel the adoration in his touch when he leans forwards and, suddenly, presses his lips on yours.

It’s a quick and brief kiss, yet filled with unfaltering passion. His tongue doesn’t peek through; he only kisses you once, robbing your breath, placing a hand under your ear.

And once he draws back ever-so-slowly, putting all his longing into the thumb that’s grazing your cheek, you say, “That was not planned…”

“I just… I needed it.”

Your hands swiftly brush along his broad shoulders. “Why?”

“Because,” he sighs. Some of the yearning in his voice shifts to something amusing, and quietly, he jests, “I need my hands on you. I… need to wipe away the remnants of his.”

The man downstairs? The one you danced with?

God.

You laugh tenderly. He’s grown used to that sound — repeats it like a lullaby before he falls asleep.

“Do not be so envious all the time,” you tell him.

“I will be. I need to be until this is over, because it reminds me that I belong to you. Me,” he emphasises, connecting your foreheads. “Of all the hearts that exist, I want you to hold mine.”

You pause.

Your own heart pulverises.

He overthinks like you do.

All those nights lying awake, thinking about the future. Repeating moments that are proof of your togetherness. The only bits that remind you that you didn’t dream those words and touches.

“Do you…” you start, palms travelling to his chest and down to his waistcoat-clad stomach. “Do you think we will be alright?”

His answer is immediate, “I think we already are.”

“But—”

“I will not believe otherwise. I’ve given up my heart already, and I will not accept any other reality anymore.”

“...Jungkook—”

He pulls you closer by your waist; closer to the sky in his eyes. “I will find a way. Should tonight end in a disaster, I still will not give up on you. Hear me?”

You hear him. Loud and clear.

His voice echoes through your mind as much as your heartbeat. The quietude of the night and the emptiness of the hallway amplify the sound of your breaths; you inhale him when his lips inch to yours like a magnet.

For a tiny moment, his closeness allows you to forget the moment you’re in. The caressing fingers on your cheeks, the approaching kiss that society might deem sinful if people saw you — the intensifying passion is tangible.

In those short minutes, you have gotten used to the silence so much that you don’t notice when it falls. The change only occurs to you when steps grow louder on the marble floor, hurried and accompanied by heavy breaths.

”What is going on?”

You part from Jungkook in time.

Fists retreat to your stomach; your chest hurts. Despite how much you anticipated this very moment, you are horrified.

The Duke rushes into the darkness to you, glancing over his shoulder once before he lets out a whisper too loud, “It is thorough luck that you were not found by one of the gossipers downstairs!”

You don’t feel bad. Your fears aside, this is exactly what you needed to happen.

My uncle’s eyes are set on us all the time. He does not want to risk any scandal between us.

You guess Jungkook was right.

His scolding continues when he halts mere feet from you. Where he stands, right under a large window, the moonlight shines onto him enough to make out the flaring nostrils, the anger in his eyes.

Instinctively, Jungkook slowly shoves you behind his body. You attempt to fight against the gesture; you need to be as present as him. But he wraps a hand around your wrist firmly, and you suppress a hiss.

“Well, this might just be the definition of luck,” Jungkook argues, “you are right.”

The Duke doesn’t like the answer, it seems. Because he draws an annoyed breath; you hear him smack his lips before he says, “The two of you are not children anymore, so do not play Hide and Seek with me.”

Ironic that he might say that.

He’s the worst game maker of them all.

“We were no—” Jungkook begins, but his words overlap with his uncle’s.

“I wish I could count on only one hand, the amount of people who jested about your disappearance just now.”

His voice grows nearly maniac. There’s insanity in it; an unhealthy obsession you didn’t understand weeks ago.

But now that you do, you almost feel sorry for him.

You put a palm against Jungkook’s back, and upon noticing the soft touch, his fingers unwrap just a little. Instead, his thumb brushes along your arm, a quiet gesture to signal comfort.

You have so much to say. His grip keeps you grounded; keeps your thoughts from combusting.

Looking at the man from here, you don’t understand how he’s, after figuring out the truths and sorrows of his world, still living the way he is. At least you assume he knows what you know.

You’re getting impatient.

And as if he’s heard your thoughts, Jungkook finally spits the suggestion you’ve been aching to spill; a simple one, yet hopefully leading to an ending.

“If you need to yell and talk, then we should do it somewhere no one may catch us, yes?”

Pause.

If the following moments happen in a different sequence than you expect, you might need to oblige and walk downstairs again.

He could be done with reprimanding the two of you — and the night would be over.

A few days ago, you wondered why that’d be so bad. Even if he forced you into that marriage, attempting to rid this town of his younger nephew that he’s named a threat to him, you could do just that, couldn’t you?

Yearning and in love, you could step to the altar. Accept his vows; move somewhere far away; live the life with the honesty he’s finally ready to provide.

But life isn’t as simple as that.

His mother still lives under the same roof as her forced husband. His brother, actually worthy of the title, would remain a shadow. And the town would still suffer under the hands of a liar.

If so much more wasn’t on the line here, you’d run away before the next full moon.

So you hope.

You keep hoping; not for a better future, but for now, only for a yes.

And it takes him only another moment to oblige.

While grumpy and irritated, he grumbles something in agreement, and Jungkook, eager and satisfied, pushes down the handle of the door next to you.

And different from the shadows outside, the room isn’t dark. Your eyes squint when they gaze into the light.

The Duke walks in first; you follow carefully, trying to keep him in place, hastily shutting the door behind you when he—

Dreadful silence fills the room. The high windows are locked well enough to not let a chirp from outside into the small office; the shutting of the door is the only sound that echoes off the walls.

The dramatic showdown feels petrifying now, and you remain close to the door. Scared, holding onto Jungkook, witnessing whatever might go down now.

You don’t know what you expected when you formed that plan, but the stare-off, wordlessly occurring in the middle of the room was certainly one of the things you did.

There is a desk at the very end, and a chair that a form rises from. She waited here — smuggling her in was easy in a crowd; but she’s been here so long that you cannot imagine how tense she must feel.

Between all the wooden luxury, she looks incredibly out of place.

You are used to seeing here surrounded by smaller furniture, living a humble life. A soothing home, green fields.

She doesn’t belong in this cruel, modern world, in the centre of chaos and so far from the idyllic life she’s built.

You feel sorry that you dragged her here.

But.

This needs to end.

Jiyoo stands up from her seat slowly, as carefully as her knees allow. She has her hands folded, not trying to hide her fear and agony.

She, of course, isn’t as surprised as the Duke; she must have written out her speech and arguments days ago. Her mouth is already parted, and her breathing deep — she’s ready to talk, but the Duke, apparently, is not.

Because when he shuts whatever words she would’ve spoken with a lifted palm, you flinch back just a little.

Jungkook must be on the same boat, because his hand twitches in yours when his uncle turns to you. Surprise mixes with anger, and you stare back in pain.

“You did this?” he asks.

You keep your voice calm when you argue, “We had to.”

Every time you talk, Jungkook steps in front of you. It’s an instinct found five minutes ago; you can’t help but wonder if he’s always been like that. Like, when his mother or his brother were around, conversing with the head of the family.

“Why did you?” the Duke snarls. “What do you have to do with this?”

Maybe not much. Maybe it wasn’t your right to intrude.

Staying away from the pains of the world might have been smart after all; but then again, distancing yourself from what Jungkook has become to you might have inflicted worse wounds to your heart.

So maybe you do not have anything to do with this — but striving towards the truth and what you want is not a bad thing to do.

How would you explain this to him? He wouldn’t accept it.

So Jungkook answers in your stead, far harsher than your own thoughts, “You need to reveal your secrets to us, and if you can’t, we will do it for you.”

There’s finality in his voice. Courage. Not an attempt to win this fight, but the knowledge that he will.

Despite the insecurity Jungkook might be feeling inside, he’s putting on a brave act — and you admire it for it.

“What?” the older man inquires.

“Uncle,” Jungkook begins, as though teaching a child not to curse, “you cannot waste money irresponsibly anymore. You have used too much of what the town needed and what our family required.”

The information isn’t new to the man; it’s just a recap. But he doesn’t want to hear it, because he laughs, and the urge to push at his chest grows.

“You have thrown it out to someone who doesn't need your help anymore,” Jungkook argues, louder now, overshadowing the stupid laughter. “Come on.”

“What do you kn—”

“Enough. I know enough.” He inhales, lets go of your hand cautiously. “I was aware of her existence since the day Father died. I have known about how you strayed from my aunt, seeking someone else’s company and giving life to someone you would later abandon.”

Yes…

It’s why the Duke wants him gone at all. As long as Jungkook knows of an illegitimate child, he is a threat.

And Jiyoo at the back of the room looks ashamed. Her gaze lowers to the ground, fingers fiddling, and you feel painfully sorry for her.

Past mistakes hurt. But it’s worse when you realise you could’ve avoided them.

She was a victim at a horrible time; judging her morals, you don’t think she would’ve dove headfirst into such a dangerous affair if she’d been any wiser.

No one speaks. Jungkook waits.

And then, he adds, “I reckon the sin of breaking your wife’s soul wasn’t enough. You continued your acts and your lies. In fact,” Jungkook takes just one step forward; your hands lift in protection, wanting to hold him back, but they soon curl in again. “I bet you were happy when Aunt died and took your secrets to the grave.”

Oh God.

Fuck.

Why are you so scared? You planned this all out. You knew you had to provoke him to get anything out of him.

But fuck.

You close your eyes, conjure courage, inhaling through the nose, exhaling through the mouth. Then, you wait and listen with a sliver of patience.

“Shut up,” the Duke says; oddly calm.

It doesn’t deter Jungkook.

“But my father knew, too. That is why you are here at all. Guarding documents, using the fortune to nurture someone who’s never seen you before…”

“Leave it be. That is the easiest way, nephew.”

Jungkook’s presence somehow triggered a peculiar relaxation in him; as if he’s used to talking down to his family. But now that Jungkook is so blatantly spitting all those facts, the man’s fury is returning.

And it doesn’t seem that Jungkook is done yet. Pausing, though.

From where you stand, you see that he’s trembling; much like you did a moment ago. Witnessing the effect his uncle has on him alters something in your brain within a moment — you don’t like the heavy breathing you hear.

Don’t like all those pictures your imagination painted in the past few days.

Of a child frightened by a man who was supposed to replace a father. Of a teenager worrying about his mother, his brother. Of a young adult fleeing his home every day to seek comfort in strangers.

He wasn’t supposed to grow up that way.

And when he thought he found someone he could confide in, who could help him talk sense into that monster who loved her — he didn’t deserve to hear the truth for what it is.

You’re aching for him.

With a gulp, you step forward. Your movement extracts an instant reaction from Jungkook, and he shakes his head at you, stretching an arm in front of you.

But you push the limb down, big, sweet eyes staring into his; you portray candour, and you almost see it physically melt his body.

“Trust me,” you whisper.

Hesitation apparent, he keeps looking at you. And then, slowly, nearly reluctantly, he finally obeys.

You deliver a thankful nod, and then walk the short distance to his uncle.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard the man’s voice so long in succession. You don’t think you’ve ever been so close. And in hindsight, you don’t even think you’ve ever actively thought of his name.

Because if you do, he’ll become more humane in your mind.

So all he is for you is the Duke. Jungkook’s uncle.

He has lost most of his humanity. You don’t see a proper person in him, because you don’t deem proper people this horrible.

Though, in some sense, you understand him now.

Because…

“Suhana does not require the money anymore,” you echo Jungkook’s words.

And he reacts the same, “What would you know?”

“I think,” you breathe, closing your hands to loose fists. Courage, courage, courage. “I think I know as much as you. But I am ready to admit it.”

He is irritated now. Pinches the bridge of his nose, a hand on his hip, turns away a little and then towards you again.

“What?” he inquires, confused and angry. “You are a mere Lady. You act far too royal for a Viscount’s son! And you have no right to snoop—”

“Yes, you are right. I do not,” you agree, leaning forwards. “And you do not have the right to betray this town, or yourself. Or. The family that’s still here,” you swallow the painful lump. Your chin quivers. “Breathing and alive.”

…It breaks him.

You see that it breaks him.

Maybe he knew that you know — but hearing it spelled out, so shamelessly by a stranger, crumbles pieces of him.

The trip you made with Jungkook came from your heart; your intentions were pure. You thought you were walking towards a better ending, a conclusion, something you could work with.

And you did.

Here and now, you have arrived at the same level of knowledge as the Duke, the same level Jungkook’s late father was at. But the bitter facts you sought turned out far worse than you priorly imagined.

You hear Jungkook mutter your name from behind you, growing increasingly anxious. But his uncle’s voice overshadows his quiet one, “...What?”

“You know,” you say, hints of desperation in your tone. “God, you must know.”

You wish it wasn’t true, though. That pain was what you travelled for for days.

“Stop,” he warns again, much as he did Jungkook. But he’s faltering. You need to keep talking.

“Why do you keep sending those letters?” you want to know. “The money? What are you trying to achieve? Keeping a ghost alive? A memory, is it?”

“Listen—”

You are done beating around the bush. You need him to say it — need him to confess it to all of you before he does the same with the police. Because even if they interrogated you later, at least you’d narrate the confession in the same way.

You hope he doesn’t bribe them, too — that’s why you need to keep talking; to break him more.

You interrupt, “She has been dead for so many years.”

A beat of silence. You watch his hands ball to fists.

And then, “You missed your chance with her when she was born. And you felt bad, didn’t you?”

Like a waterfall. Previous fear gone, the words fall out of you like a waterfall.

Maybe because a stranger’s absence hurts you more than a monster’s presence does.

“You thought you could set things right when your sons were born,” you tell him. Jiyoo is still behind him, but inches closer; you don’t know what the Duke looks like from the back, but she seems worried. “But this is a burden not so easily forgotten.”

Yes…

Yes, he is shattering.

His mind, his heart, his entire soul — you don’t wish such pain on your worst enemy, but it makes him falter bit by bit.

Pique is still apparent in his eyes, but it mingles with despair. He looks like he’ll buckle, fall forwards to his knees. Whispers, “Why are you doing…”

“Because she is dead.” You aren’t responding to his half-question. You’re merely continuing your own speech. Because it’s all that’s cutting him open. “You have made your extended family’s life hell, not only to guard your secret, but because you are mourning someone who’s goddamn dea—.”

A sharp blow blinds you for a second.

The rise of his heavy hand is sudden, and the gasps that sound through the room synchronised.

Your head falls, and your hand snaps to your cheek; the slap toys with your balance, but careful arms catch you immediately.

“You dare open this filthy mouth of yours when you have no right to.”

His voice sounds in the back of your mind; your ears are ringing.

You wish you could explain to him that repeating your faults won’t bury his.

When you look up, Jungkook’s face is blurry. It takes a moment to see the rage in his dark pupils. You’re pressed against his torso, one hand holding onto his coat, the other clutching his wrist. And his chest is rising heavily…

“This is absolute nonsense.”

You don’t see what his uncle is doing; you just hear his weak voice.

But judging from how Jungkook steps back immediately with you in tow, you assume the Duke is targeting the door. You feel Jungkook’s headshake more than you see it.

“Go the hell away from the—”

“I do not think you should leave just yet.”

It’s Jiyoo’s voice.

And among their arguments, you hear Jungkook quietly say through gritted teeth, “He fucking shouldn’t have.”

So much is happening.

Your sight clears. Tears of anger burn in your eyes.

You tighten your grip around Jungkook’s wrist when he inhales a furious breath; one palm brushes your cheek. The fingers of the other hand curl to a fist, ready to bash.

But the moment you realise his intention, you press him further against the door. You must look insane with those hair strands dangling; tears streaming down your cheeks. But your gaze is genuine, and it breaks his heart.

Eradicates the hardness in his eyes.

“No…” you whisper. “Don’t.”

“He—”

“Yes,” you nod slowly, swallowing the knot, “let’s use it, yes? When someone asks, we can use it as a defence.” You lean into him, talking quieter. “Do not make the same mistake. They will believe him over you.”

Jungkook’s body is feeble against yours. Every shaky syllable you utter delivers a punch to his guts; if he could, he’d rip his own uncle apart.

But your eyes beg otherwise.

And he gives into them.

Hands under your ears pull your head closer, a thumb brushing over the aching spot. He asks, “Are you alright?”

You nod; your eyes shut when he wraps his arms around you, staring ahead. You wish you could see. What you know is that the Duke’s and Jiyoo’s voices are faint now; you’re almost blending them out.

His attention isn’t on you, and you use the moment to remain against Jungkook’s heartbeat for just a few seconds longer. You let him guard you from all evil for just a bit.

And then, you ask, “What’s happening?”

“They are… talking.” He soothes your mind with a rub along your back, speaks quietly, as long as peace lasts. “But he will want to leave in a moment.”

“Please let me see.”

He stalls again; thinks about your suggestion. And then, he lets you out of his embrace, still holding you but allowing you more space. Lets you turn a little, until you can hear the heated hisses the man delivers.

Jiyoo looks more patient than him — you guess that’s a mother’s instinct.

“I am sorry,” Jungkook says. “I should have handled this alone.”

“Don’t—”

“You knew she was dead.”

Jiyoo’s voice catches both of your attention. She’s louder now, crying. An accusing finger points at him, and you listen in.

No matter who initiated this project, it was always supposed to end like this, right?

This is why you brought Jiyoo to this place.

Because no matter what Jungkook says or how many violence-inducing speeches you deliver, none of you have ever been directly involved in this.

Jiyoo is the other side of the Duke. The white, bright side of the monochrome picture; far more hopeful than his dark soul. Despite the pain she’s endured, she came out of it kindhearted and empathic.

Yet, no matter how different, she’s the other parent, too.

Forever connected to him by the existence they created.

If someone can end it once and for all, it’s her.

So you stand back. Eyes dart back and forth. Your heart aches again when you remember the lost life; your eyes water with Jiyoo’s when her shaky, mature voice asks, “What were you trying to do?”

He looks dizzy. Like he wants out of here; to forward time and escape distress.

But he catches himself to answer, “She was my eldest child. I wanted the memory. I could pretend.”

The decreasing volume of his voice is… strange.

Has she truly broken his shield and gotten through to him? Because he—

“What did you gain from it, though? Did it bring her back?” Jiyoo prods; the man shrinks into himself.

He is incredibly out of it.

Timid almost when he tries, “Are you in a position to deny… that you would have died had I not aided you?”

Jiyoo’s demeanour softens. A steady hand — how does she do it? — lifts to his arm. Settles over the coat; she looks him in the eyes she probably used to adore. Back before they betrayed her.

You wonder what he used to be like.

She admits, “You know. Perhaps you are right. And I was thankful for that.” Her eyes are misty. You cannot imagine what her mind must be circling around. Memories of the past. Long forgotten youth. Pain. “But she… Suhana and I made a living.”

Jungkook’s arms unwrap around you. One still lies around your shoulders, a hand pressing into your arm to keep you close. Right now, the scene that plays out in front of you makes you require emotional assistance more than anything.

Slaps and punches be damned.

This hurts.

“We know how to survive,” Jiyoo adds, quietly, slowly. She’s looking at the collar of his coat, keeping her sobs in now. “We aren’t worth less, just because we aren’t Duchesses and Ladies.”

Pause.

Then, “We weren’t. Ever.”

Something in you splinters at the choice of words. The crack widens when you see the Duke’s fallen face; a father’s who never learned how to love, but hurt anyway. Who still lost a damn daughter.

And all of you breaks into two pieces when you glance at Jungkook and see it.

The fist against his chest. Locating the heartbreak, alleviating the pain.

An open mouth, furrowed eyebrows, the hope to find another part of the family to love dwindling.

Maybe he’s realising what’s lost the same moment the Duke is. You can’t fathom how much it must hurt him to understand the reality after days of learning it.

And you cannot fathom how soul-breaking it must be to understand the reality after years of denying it.

“Why did you—” the Duke stutters. “Why did you never bring her to me?”

“How could I? You had a wife. A life. Why…” she counters. “Why did you not tell me that you did?”

“Because I loved you, too.”

In a moment of unexpected confessions, your eyes widen.

Behind the cruelty and tyranny, you finally see something like… a heart. Warmth. A human being.

And in the same moment as his monstrous persona turns into something colourful for you, something palpable, not animalistic, Jiyoo says, “I do not know if I can believe that, Minjoon.” She lowers her head. “I just know that. If I’d known what was to occur, I never would have let you touch me.”

The man… the person. The human cracking. Minjoon.

His face collapses. You can tell he means what he’s saying. Behind his chest, there’s a bloody, beating heart; yearning too late, but still yearning nevertheless.

You feel sorry for him.

“I never regretted my little girl’s existence,” Jiyoo says. The sobs aren’t as controlled anymore. “But I would not have let you close. Because then I’d known what I’d have to live without.”

“I…”

“No parent should ever lose a child. No one.”

“I did, too.”

“And you didn’t deserve it, either,” she says.

You are mesmerised. Not by any kind of beauty — more by the tragedy that unfolds.

You didn’t think such a thing existed outside your novels. Looking at it, you wish it didn’t.

But the words exchanged are real. The situation is real. Minjoon faltering, finally giving up, saying what he says next is real.

“What would you like me to do?”

He is crying now. An elderly man in genuine tears; always breaking, but never fully broken. Until now.

Jungkook holds you tight as you cry, too.

Jiyoo’s voice is softer now. She brings her hand down to his elbow when he sways, finding support in the table next to him to not fall.

She nearly begs, “Please stop sending money. Get away from,” she looks at Jungkook, and then back at Minjoon, “that family. Give them what they deserve and own up to your mistakes.”

She sniffles, catching herself to utter somewhat rational words, “You bribed people as well. You need to tell the policemen that the bankiers weren’t at fault. Do what you were supposed to do so long ago.”

He doesn’t speak. He is only half there. Paralysed.

“She deserves it, too,” Jiyoo finishes, delivering the last blow.

Minjoon leans against the table, and this time, his knees do give in. His eyes are fixated on some spot; his world breaks apart, all purpose gone when the past eventually catches up to him.

”She’s gone. She has been gone,” he just whispers. Repeats it.

After so many years of neglecting the truth, the dam must have broken. And you imagine that the built-up water is hitting him in violent waves.

His lips pale a little, and he remains like that — you keep observing him, until a couple minutes later, he does nothing but gulp and give you one last nod.

Minjoon does not see the inside of a prison.

Not because he is a royal.

In fact, the policemen aren’t as corrupt as you feared — they believe you. See the proof, because Minjoon delivers it voluntarily.

More because it is soon declared that he needs doctors rather than a life-long punishment. Perhaps, you think, they are right.

Despite his misdeeds and the lack of children you have, you think to understand what loss feels like. Fortunately not because you experienced it, but because you want to understand.

Maybe he will come out on a brighter side. Maybe he will learn what it means to be human and alive.

Maybe he will regret his life just a little less once he makes peace with his very own, tragic reality.

You don’t know.

But at least for Jungkook, his family and you—

It’s over.

Cemeteries in the countryside deliver an entirely different atmosphere.

The tombstones are still the same desolate grey. The grass is just as green, and you stand above ashes, as you did days ago at the cemetery you know.

But the scent is different. The names are strangers to you. The people that lived and died here are their own community; it’s like you’re disrupting their peace.

And no matter how beloved the former Duke of your home was, the mausoleum built for him lifted some of your sadness. He is buried in his little, fancy house. Still admired from afar; people probably still put flowers at the doorstep.

He won’t be forgotten; won’t be one more lost existence in a sea of sorrow.

But this grave…

The one you’re looking at — a small tombstone.

Engravings are sparse, because the more you write, the more expensive things get. Jiyoo told you that.

She was supposed to accompany you, but sat the pain out for today. Said she needs a while to recover from recent events. During this time, you have grown close to her.

When you confronted her that day, she broke down — narrated Suhana’s story. Told you how she feared you were one of his people, ready to hurt her.

Which is why she lied. Played your game, saving herself in a stupid way; out of fright.

You understand.

Maybe it was better to come here alone anyway. It lets you think.

Lets you realise how insignificant Suhana’s name looks among so many. It makes your chest heavy.

As you see her birth and death year, your head reflexively calculates; a reminder of how young she was.

Is Jungkook thinking the same? When you look at him, he’s unmoving, rigid. Staring ahead, barely blinking.

Sparks of life only return in his foggy gaze when you press into the arm you are holding. You suck in a breath, and he graces you with a brief stare so lost. He mirrors your smile when he falls back into the real world, but his lips drop soon again.

His fingers are clutching a bouquet of peonies. You’d suggested white roses before, a sign of purity, but he insisted otherwise.

Peonies, he said, signify healing, and to him, that’s worth far more than innocence. Perhaps, beyond that grave of hers, resting peacefully after a strugglesome life, she could heal alongside him.

The ache of this interpretation sits deep; you wish you knew how to change the past. Even if for that young life she lived; if she could’ve shared her joys and pains with someone who understands, both of them might have perceived the world differently.

Albeit hurt, you wouldn’t be clutching a man’s arm who forgot how to love as he grew up. You hope you can lead him back onto that path. Back to the sunny side of the world, where you like to reside.

His fingers wrap around the bouquet tighter before he finally loosens the grip. One more inhale of fresh air, and then, he’s leaning down. Crouching in front of the grave as you fold your fingers, observing the scene you’ve dreaded for days now.

But whatever you expected — tears, deep-sitting words, confessions he buried deep — the moment passes entirely differently.

He remains quiet. Keeps looking at her name. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this still — if his hair didn’t move in the breeze, you might confuse him with one of the angelic statues here.

But he keeps looking at her; at whatever remains of her. You reckon his words are silent, never exiting his mind. When you tilt your head, peeking at his face, his eyes are closed.

He might be praying. Maybe you should, too.

A minute or two passes in the silence. The day is quieter than any other you’ve experienced with him.

But when he stands, wrapping his hand around yours so tenderly, your soul awakens again.

You glance at him — he’s not looking at you, but the touch of his palm against yours speaks volumes. Like a plea to stay. A sign of comfort.

“Is it stupid to mourn someone you never knew?” he asks.

Is it? Of course not. While not at the same extent, you do mourn her lost life, too.

“No. It isn’t,” you promise. You squeeze his hand back as a silent response to his quiet begging; you think he breathes a sigh of relief. “I assume that if the roles were reversed, she would have dwelled in the same sentiments.”

“It’s… such a shame that we cannot say with certainty,” Jungkook murmurs. Regret swims in his words, but not because he has committed a mistake — regret for her. Regret in the world’s stead. “She didn’t deserve any of this.”

Someone like her truly didn’t. Not that any kind-hearted creature that floats through this universe deserves such an early demise. But you wish she could’ve met like-minded people just once.

You remember the drawings in Jiyoo’s cottage. You wonder how many people she surrounded herself with, apart from her mother; whether she grew up well in the village. Larked about with peers of the same age.

Whatever she did, you somehow believe the smile Jiyoo drew. And with that, you also believe that—

“I think she was happy, though,” you say. “As long as she remained.”

“I hope so.”

“And…” You press your lips together before wetting them lightly; you taste the red colour on them. “You should be as well. For as long as you might remain, you should find joy again.”

Easier said than done. You know.

You don’t need to experience excruciating pain and an unforgiving childhood to know that wounds don’t heal so fast. Jungkook’s starry eyes carry his past pain, and you understand that it’ll fade just bit by bit.

But he isn’t the same as before anymore, and it feels like a fresh change in his life. You have seen how the days progressed; realised that he’s attempting his best.

He affirms your thoughts when he nods slowly, finally granting you his full attention as he turns towards you.

A light smile tugs at his lips, and he says, “I have been trying. I finally gave up everything I needed to, so I could chase what I need to — rather than what I thought I might need.”

What he thought he needed were distractions. The constant roaming around, throwing his youth away. He’s not doing it anymore — and you like to imagine that he’ll keep wandering that mature path.

He leans down slowly, crouching to touch the flowers again before he grazes the grave. He mouths something to her, sighs deeply, and when he’s standing again, he says, “Come.”

Further silent prayers sent beneath the ground with closed eyes, you bid her farewell. If you could choose, you’d come again, honour the brief life she was allowed to enjoy.

And then, you’re hooking your arm with his, taking the same deep breath as him. And eventually, you start trudging towards the carriage that brought you here.

The walk takes a couple of minutes, and Jungkook uses the silence and the solitude with you to continue, “My brother is older than me, but he still asked whether I wished to alter my life to something better.”

You know the story. So you add, “By taking the Duke’s title.”

“Yes… I don’t think I have ever said no to anything before this quickly.”

You think you have infiltrated Jungkook’s mind enough to understand why. The boy who dodged responsibilities, seeking freedom and happiness — it’s not necessarily hard to guess why he declined.

But you still ask, “Why did you?”

Jungkook squints into the sun. For some reason, the summer is making the melancholy more intense; harder than the winter’s cold or rain could. The sun is supposed to be a comforting source — so the fact that this moment is so blue feels strange.

“Because,” he starts, “I want to start living for myself. I cannot be responsible for so many lives. I just.” He halts in his steps, looks at you so softly. “I need to be at peace with myself. And I think Junghyun has the… meaning of everything already figured out.”

You could tell. Despite the past, he’s always seemed cheerful to you. Perhaps it was easier to get over the miseries as the older brother. Children are vulnerable after all.

You ask, “But are you still staying?”

Your heart jumps to your throat and then back into its cage. It’s a question you’ve stalled for too long.

For several nights now, you reached to the other side of your bed, looking for the touch he granted you two nights in a row as you travelled.

The warmth he exuded, adding to the summer’s heat; the lips that brushed along your shoulders. All those whispers and confessions; the tangled up limbs; the featherlight kisses he so carefully planted along your jaw.

The past sleepless nights were spent thinking of his ghost next to you; wondering for hours if he’d still be there next week. Whether, once you left the cemetery you promised to visit with him, he’d voice his goodbyes.

You dreaded that moment, stewed over the answer — and when his doe eyes look at you so fondly, processing your question, you think he’ll break your heart in the gentlest manner he knows.

“Are you?” you ask again.

He doesn’t have to. With Minjoon out of his life, he doesn’t have to leave you.

Your lower lip trembles; your heart panics when he opens his mouth.

And a thick knot forms in your throat when he tilts his head and says, “I have always wanted to leave.”

You shouldn’t feel this weak in the presence of a mere man. But Jeon Jungkook proved to be more than that — he’s long turned your body into liquid.

Without gulping down the knot in your throat, you pull your eyebrows together. The long awaited dampness in your eyes feels like overkill, but you can’t hold back the longing when you whisper, “You will leave, then?”

He will. Of course he will.

No matter what his uncle wanted, it’s what Jungkook has waited for all his life, too.

You’re a fool to expect otherwise.

You lower your gaze, refusing to blink to dry out your eyes. A bite hurts the inside of your cheek, before you stutter, “Well, I—”

“When…” he interjects. You let him speak, nibbling at your lip. “When we stood there… in that room.” Jungkook’s forefinger settles under your chin and lifts your face to align your pure, gentle gaze with his. “Even when I held you, you felt too far away.”

You remember.

How he pulled you into his chest, inspecting any potential wounds. Looking at you with utter fear in his stare; endlessly caring and angry.

You knew right then that he was ready to wade through oceans for you.

Despite the inhumanity of the moment, you still dream of the affection in those eyes.

Hopefully, you look at him, eyelids wide open. And he, torturously slowly, concludes, “If I went away, I would look into the distance and into crowds of faces every day, and you’d be nowhere. And I don’t know how to live like that anymore.”

It’s funny.

How you sought someone and something you never found –– but instead, the journey helped you find your way to each other instead. Suhana did a lot for the two of you after all.

You say, “So…”

“So, however stupid it may sound, I want to be wherever you are.”

It might sound stupid to him — to you, who dreams and levitates above clouds, it sounds like a song; a poem.

“Would you stay in this godforsaken town if I did?” you ask weakly, fighting tears. “Where all your pain started?”

“But that’s not all there is, is it? My pain.”

“What then?”

He waits; looks at you. Then—

“...You.”

You…

Are you enough to combat all he’s endured? Do you have that kind of power over him? It’s surreal; why does it make you fall so much harder?

Your recently overthinking mind throws another question at you, and you forward it to him, “So if I did stay—”

“Are you staying?”

“Should I not?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Everything is over, and you haven’t said anything about us yet.”

He’s always been oblivious. Even now, in the shadow of the oak tree, years and years later, he’s still the same zany you used to know.

You chuckle a little, shaking your head, and ask him matter-of-factly, “Why do you think am I here, Jungkook?”

“I…”

“You’ve always been stupid.”

“Maybe it’s not stupidity now,” he defends. He tugs you closer by your arm, tucking back your stray locks. “But. Hope was sparse.”

Filled with fondness and yearning, he presses his lips together when you inch closer. You put a hand over his heart, breathing against him as you wonder, “And now?”

From his chest, you move your palm to his cheek. He looks as sweet and meek as he always does when his eyes grow this wide. He stands in front of you with his signature pout; smirk long forgotten.

Hesitates with his answer, chooses his words carefully, and then says, “If I told you I want to see more stages with you… inhale poetry. Hear you talking in the rain. About clouds and a sky we cannot touch,” you laugh, and he pauses to join, “would you let me?”

You were fearful of his decisions; you didn’t think he’d be the one begging for your presence in his life.

“Let you?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow. “What do you think, Lord Jeon?”

“That I still need to plead for permission.”

“You do?”

Your body sways in his grip — you might faint at this stranger place.

At least, you get dangerously close to it soon, barely keeping your heartbeat at bay when he speaks, “I do not want to love alone.” You might throw up. Did he say what you think he said? “So I need to, yes.”

You deemed him fire; yourself water.

But compared to this moment, you realise that up until now, he’s always been a mere harmless flame of a candle. No matter how irritating or pain-inducing, it was easier for you to fight his heat.

But right now, you’re defeated.

He was never the fire you thought he was before; now, he is. And thinking about it, with him, you grew so much wilder, too — a tsunami, two polar elements clashing.

Now, you don’t fight him anymore.

You laugh nervously, drawing into him, and mumble, “Good. Ask then.”

He snickers; it’s the first genuine chuckle you’ve heard from him today. Some of the prior bicker returns, eyes rolling when he jokes, “May I court you then, m’Lady?”

Both of you physically cringe at the formality — but you know that somewhere deep inside, the question was overdue. As was your answer.

“I shall let you allow it, Lord Jeon Jungkook. Just this once,” you say back just as cheesily.

He bites his lower lip, furrowed eyebrows recovering from the awkward dialogue. Blinded by the light you emanate, he tilts his head. This… he wants to keep this emotion.

You should walk back to the carriage. The coachman probably doesn’t appreciate being grilled under the afternoon sun. But just a moment longer.

Just a bit.

He shall forgive you for a second as you near Jungkook’s rosy, promising lips. Right there, you see joy written.

There is a fine line between love and hate; you bet the story of the two of you is the ultimate proof for that. Whatever despise you felt has turned into thirst.

He quenches it when he puts a burning hand to your cheek, right when his mouth touches yours.

As you collide, you eventually meet in the middle — and evaporate to steam.

AH happy ending. see y’all when the epilogue drops !!

but alright, was that... okay? :’) vv nervous about your guys’ reaction lol please let me know what you think !! i’ll be a bit busier with school from now on, but i really worked hard to have this out today, so... yeah :D if it’s not good, i’ll try and make things good with the epilogue/the next fic LOL 🤞

also y’all... thank you so much for supporting this series the way you did. i absolutely didn’t think you’d like it so much, so i’m endlessly grateful for the love it received. it means so much to me :((

if you enjoyed this part, too !! don’t forget to like, comment, reblog (do it on desktop, since mobile doesn’t let you rb big posts!!( and reach out to me. i love you all <333

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