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tteokdoroki · 10 months ago

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˗ˏˋ 💎 JJK MEN AS OVERPROTECTIVE GIRL DADS gojo, sukuna & geto .ᐟ

⋆˙ ᯓ★ about ! “a little girl’s first love will always be her father." three scenarios in which the daughters of three jjk men introduce their boyfriends to their fathers. ( 5.7K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. video banner. not beta read. sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, no-curses!au, mentions of pregnancy, children and babies, the children have no names, some family issues, married life, domestic bliss, husband + father!jjk men, mother + fem!reader.

sonic says ! hello everyone !! i wanted to try my hand at some head canons and scenarios, i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so put a pause on working on kinktober to write it lol!! hope you enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊

ᯓ★ SATORU GOJO:

before meeting you, satoru gojo had never been fond of a family dinner.

in his childhood home — they were cold and quiet, pockets of clattering cutlery would cut through painstaking silence and distract from the loud emptiness of the seat at the head of the table where his own father was supposed to be. his mother, often solemn and sunken in the shoulders, never spoke. never cooked and slipped small bites to her son in between preparation or steps.

they had staff for that, they had staff for everything.

to keep the household clean and together. to keep him fed and breathing. to keep him alive. all requirements felt almost clinical, the environment in which he was raised almost like the white walls of a hospital — without a trace of love needed for a child like satoru gojo needed to thrive.

even if he had all the money in the world, he hadn’t a drop of love. he wasn’t ever sure if he was capable of the warm and fuzzy emotion, didn’t know if it was something his heart could ever open up to — sealed in by layers of cool, cold concrete and cement. kept in a safe without a key. at least until you miraculously found it and melted the thick layers of ice blocking satoru’s veins. you brought back colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes, taking up the space in his heart where his family had left a swirling, black void.

to satoru, you were a saving grace. his everything… and he swore he’d never be like his father; who left his wife unhappy and empty, like a abandoned shell. he promised; he’d do much better than his parents ever did. especially when you found out you were pregnant, even more so when your little girl came into the world with plentiful white curls and lashes, screaming at the top of her teeny tiny lungs.

at the time, you were sure you’d never seen satoru gojo so in love ( and so teary eyed too ) — but you knew what becoming a parent meant to him. what it meant for the new life you now shared.

but now, having met you and married you and created life with you — satoru had found a new appreciation for family dinners. they were a sacred event, a special time for him to keep up with the lives of his children and let them know he was there. present.

it wasn’t a time to be imposed on and certainly not by meddlesome boyfriends brought home by sixteen year old daughters.

“so kid, what’s your 401K look like?”

satoru carries a look of disdain, his nostrils flared, blue eyes narrowed and perfect pink lips curled in an unhappy frown.

the young boy opposite him, a little scrawny and awkward, shrinks underneath the white haired man’s intense gaze — if you squinted, you could probably see him shaking like a little leaf in the intense wind from across the table “um… i don’t know?”

“hear that little guy? no 401K… how’s he meant to take care of your sister. yeah, yeah.

you’re right, i’ll give him a chance,” he mutters to the baby boy snoozing happily in his arms under his breath, engaging in a one sided conversation before switching his focus back to his daughter’s…sorry excuse for a partner. “okay then… finances, clearly not. academics and common sense —“ pausing, the white haired father of two clicks his tongue, pushing it into the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek as if to feel his next words out in his mouth. “do you even know what a bouquet of flowers is, kid? a corsage? gojo women don’t play about their flowers, yanno.”

“sir—“

without giving the boy a chance to speak, gojo drops his intrusive gaze under the table and back up again — pointing an accusatory finger at his little girl’s partner. “your top button’s undone and your shoe laces are untied. you might wanna fix that! if you care about my daughter’s safety!” he turns his nose up all petulant like a picky toddler being forced to eat his veggies, he even sticks his tongue out for good measure. gojo’s eccentric movements nearly jostle his sleepy son in place. the baby whines and gurgles a little bit, only soothed by a pat to his back from dad — who repositions him to snooze over his shoulder.

in a silent, quieter gesture, satoru uses two fingers to point between his eyes and the boy’s. almost as if to say ‘i’m watching you.’

catching him in the act, the eldest gojo daughter bounces into the room carrying plates of steaming hot food, exhaling with worm down patience evident in her body language. “daddy please, you don’t act like this normally. stop messing around.” rolling her eyes, she sets the dishes down, freeing up her hand to smack the back of her dad’s clearly empty skull. just like her mother.

“well sooooorrry for being a good dad and caring about your wellbeing! who you’re dating! who you’re bringing into our bloodline!” gojo rebuttals with petish grunts, unable to cradle the back of his injured head like he does with his son.

and as if by magic, you, his beautiful and loving and gorgeous wife appear with dinner plates in hand to double down on a scolding the white haired man. amused, you also swat at your husband’s head and tut down at him. “satoru? what are you doing?” there’s something about the way you tease and tell gojo off that always makes his heart race, even after all these years of marriage and raising his kids. he loves you, his family so much. he almost keens into your touch like a pathetic dog, until your daughter starts gagging at the sight — slipping into her set. you were supposed to be watching the baby. not interrogating the poor kid.”

“we’re having a heart to heart, babe,” gojo swoons, clearing his throat as his head bobs in the direction of his daughter’s boyfriend. “jimbob here was just telling me about his 3.4% grade point average.”

“it’s hiro sir! and uh… 3.5% sir.” the boyfriend in question chirps shyly.

you know that your husband feels… almost threatened by another man entering your daughter’s life — they’ve been practically inseparable since the moment she first opened her eyes. to give up the duty of loving and protecting her and pass it onto someone else is probably what scares him the most. “that’s pretty good hun!” you comment absentmindedly, hoping to pull satoru away from the conversation.

“no it’s not! our daughter has a 4.0%.”

“s-she was failing in math, i was tutoring her.” the boyfriend hopefully interjects again, whispering next when the baby stirs at the dining table. “i hope that makes up for my 401K sir. i-i also work part time to save for college and—!”

“haha — no i wasn’t!” the younger gojo girl tenses in place, elbowing her date in the ribs not so discretely from under the table. it’s this interaction that makes her father smile, only briefly, before you scowl his way.

“i thought you told them we met at a tutoring session.”

“you were failing?” you raise a brow, taking your own seat beside her father.

“see! this boy failure is a bad influence on our daughter!” a glare settles on the slopes of satoru’s angelic features, mirrored by your child’s unimpressed expression across the table. in his arms, your youngest fusses about as if he senses the mounting tension at the table — earning a bounce or two from daddy, who turns your way all matter-of-factly like. “see, this why he doesn’t have a 401K”

“why would a teenager have a 401k, satoru!” comes your exasperated sigh.

“i had one when i was his age.” satoru shoots back and the kid sinks nervously in his seat. the poor boy looks as though he wants to disappear, squirming in place like he’s no better than a worm on a bait hook — it’s torture being interrogated and inspected by someone so close to the person you love most, but even he knows how important satoru’s approval is to your daughter.

she wouldn’t say it now, not when she was all grown up and finding her way out in the world — but she idolised gojo, all of her fondest memories are painted in his colours. shades of sapphire and azure like his vivid eyes, snowy white from his hair that almost rivals the clouds in the sky — the backdrop to days spent riding her father’s shoulders through the big wide world, racing down grassy green hills and wasting the hours away. she wouldn’t admit it here, today, but she never wanted to leave those memories. leave her father behind in her youth — it was written on each dip and curve and highlight on her youthful face, she wanted her father to move into this next phase of life with her too.

“daddy, you were a trust fund baby with shit grades and no prospects until you met mum,” she huffs but her words hold no malice, even if the sass brims over the edge of her tone like an emotionally charged, overflowing glass of water. you’d chide her for cursing — but you know she means well, stubbornly expressing her desire for approval to her man child of a father. “a loser, if you will.”

gojo slumps, the rosey petals of his plump lips pushing into an age old pout. “how could you say that about dear old dad?” he whines, as though he’s a wounded animal.

“well she’s not wrong, baby. you were a loser satoru, you still are.” the words are fond and light hearted on your tongue, a similar state to the wisps of a smile that trace over your own lips. leaning in close, you tickle the nose of the gurgling baby boy in his arms, heart heavy with affection — grateful that the one interaction you had with your husband all those years ago ( when he was a scrapier and misunderstood ) led you both to the beautiful chaotic family you have together now. “a hot one at least.”

“gross.” your daughter groans and buries her embarrassed gaze in the spread of food on the neatly laid table — grabbing a plate and piling it high to cope.

her boyfriend chuckles nervously, wanting nothing more but to eat and do the same. desperate to hide from gojo’s intimidating aura, but too afraid to cross another one of his ridiculous invisible lines. “i think that’s very sweet mrs gojo!”

the brief moment of peace in the war of dad v boyfriend is then interrupted by the white haired man’s temper tantrum, realising that his only daughter is still in the room. “don’t push it kid.” the father of your children all but wails and finds something else about the young couple to pick apart. “you’re sitting too close together! move apart!”

“daddy—!”

“w-what?”

“i said move it or lose it kid, before i keel over and die of heartbreak.” “betrayal. my own daughter, leaving me for someone else.”

the two separate, shifting their chairs away from one another despite never actually being too close. you share an empathetic look with your eldest, empathetic to your husband’s actions. you both knew he wouldn’t handle the meeting well, but this was beyond your whilst dreams. the young couple’s hands remain intertwined under the table cloth as the meal begins properly, and when satoru notices, he doesn’t comment — biting down hard on his unhappy tongue. he knows all too well what it’s like to love against the odds, his father in law hardly wanted him around you. it’s not like he wasn’t aware how bad he was for you, how your standards might have even dropped for the man to be with him. but you loved satoru with your entire being, wholly and against all of your own parent’s wishes.

in a way, the dinner tonight reminds him of himself meeting your father for the first time — how he had to work for his approval too. prove that he was more than just a spoilt brat. too caught up in the memories, the odd sense of loss threaded between his every breath and the love he holds for his daughter settled in his lungs — gojo almost kissed the way you whisper to him adoringly, head drooping to rest on his shoulder mostly to look at your baby but partly to comfort him. “you’re being dramatic satoru. look at them, don’t you just love young love.”

and he does, he looks, really looks — softly staring across the table and through the haze of his own judgement, noticing how happy his little girl looks all wrapped up with her boyfriend. all he’s ever wanted is to keep her smiling, give her a life that his parents couldn’t give him, he feels all of his resentment and fear or losing his daughter melt away like a plain sheet of paper dissolving in water. he loves her too much to not let her be happy, his baby. his little girl.

“no, not at all,” satoru finally relents with a wobbling voice and silvery tears that dot his vision — shaking his head back and forth to stop them from dropping onto his sleeping son gathered in his arms. “w-why would you say that? god, is it allergy season? my eyes are killing me. they’re not cute at all, why would you say that i’m crying?”

your teenage daughter glances over, relief evident in all of her identical gojo features. “no one mentioned you crying, daddy.” she coos softly in an attempt to console satoru.

it doesn’t work, he starts dry heaving and sobbing. which is new for her, he hasn’t cried this hard since her baby brother was born.

the kid scrambles into his pocket and damn near stumbles over the table in order to hand your white haired lover a tissue. “i don’t think you’re crying sir!”

“shut up!” gojo sniffles dramatically, putting on his best theatre kid act and drapes himself ( and the baby ) all over you. “shit, is this cushioned tissue? three ply?” pale, deft fingers swipe at the blue pools of eyes which well with tears while the kid nods over enthusiastically — desperate to please his girlfriend’s guardian. “good stuff this is… but this doesn’t mean i approve of you for my daughter!”

“gojo!”

“whaaaaat!? he doesn’t have a 401K!”

ᯓ★ RYOMEN SUKUNA:

if you’d told sukuna, almost a decade and a half ago, that he would end up with a life shrouded in domestic bliss — he would have laughed in your face. maybe even called you a cunt whilst telling you to fuck off. back then, when he was younger and the spirit of ambitious fire burned brightly in his veins as though he had petroleum for blood, the pink haired man never dreamed of settling down. buying a house. getting married. or having kids.

he was as untameable as a wild horse, with only one goal in mind. to open up his restaurant and get his family out of that shithole town by all and any means. he’d cross whatever rivers he had to, climb whatever mountains he needed to — push past societal hurdles that judged him for the pink in his hair and the thick ink on his body. ryomen sukuna did not care. not about anyone else, only about his goals.

at least, until he met you.

in many ways, you were a blessing to the world where sukuna was a curse. his complete opposite, the day to his night. though the worlds and lives you came from were completely different —

nowadays, the man is a little softer around the edges and weaker in the heart — they say that’s what true love does to you.

a set of keys jingle at the front door, followed by the dull thud of trainers on the shoe rack and footsteps on the mahogany wood floor. sukuna hardly looks up from the article he’s reading — something about the best recipes for autumnal vegetables. who would have thought, ryomen sukuna, reading up on gardening. he would tell anyone who asked it was for his restaurant, not because he actually enjoyed it. would make him look soft.

“hey, i’m home!” the voice that calls to him is sweet and youthful, a dulcet symphony that tugs paternally at the pink haired man’s heart strings. “is ma here?”

sukuna smiles to himself behind the newspaper, inhaling its fresh ink scent. “in the kitchen, workin’,” he replies absentmindedly, listening to his daughter skid down the hall after dropping her backpack. “oi squirt, you ain’t slick. you know what day it is, report card. now.”

there’s a dramatic sigh that follows footsteps trailing back into the living room. sukuna’s daughter, his pride and joy clings onto the doorframe with a scowl that could very well rival his own, ruby red eyes twinkling with annoyance — she’s in a rush to chat with her mother after school, he knows, but he can’t help but to tease her just a bit. “s’in my bag, can i go now?” she whines impatiently but takes off at the first gentle nod from her father in reply.

but the pink haired parent’s peaceful evening is quickly turned upside down at the discovery he makes in the bottom of his pride and joy’s bag. no matter how much time has passed, how many decades have gone by in which he’s been a father — nothing could prepare him for this new challenge, the new wave of emotions that come with having a tween daughter and swirl hotly in his chest.

“what the fuck is this?” he announces with a foul snarl, slipping into the kitchen where his girls chitchat idly over a test batch of cookies sukuna had made earlier in the day. for his restaurant of course. not because he’s a doting husband or loving father. he’s got an image to uphold and it’s not one of domestic bliss.

his daughter chirps, not looking up from the sweet treat she picks apart and pops into her mouth — seated on the kitchen island while you work away on your laptop. “what’s what, daddy?” her innocent nonchalance about the older sukuna’s discovery almost makes him pop a vein. “also, ma told you to stop saying the f-word. so, swear jar.”

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink pokes his tongue into the soft epithelium of his cheek, his jaw ticks and a playful frustration tingles throughout all four of his limbs. the swear jar was something you’d brought into play as soon as [daughter name] had learned how to talk, afraid that your rough and rugged husband’s potty mouth would rub off on her young impressionable mind. every time a cursed word falls from between ryomen sukuna’s lips, a couple hundred yen is popped into the jar as punishment. the thing was practically full by your baby’s third birthday, so you’ve been putting it down as her college fund ever since.

paper rustles between deft and tattooed fingers as sukuna reveals not a report card, but a crinkled note like the kind passed back and forth between distracted kids in the middle of that one class before lunch. “don’t play dumb with me, squirt.” ryomen holds the note up to the light so that both of his girls can see, blood diamond eyes squinting so he can inspect it better. somebody get this guy his glasses. “‘do you want to go out with me? tick for yes, cross for no.’” he reads out loud, each word leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, his frown so deep that lines of disapproval form on his well-aged face.

thoughts of the once all-important report card vanish into thin air, the relaxed aura in the room replaced with a palatable tension that not even your husband’s finest knives could cut. your precious baby girl shoots up from the counter to scramble with her dad over the note in hand. he holds her back with a large palm to the forehead.

“oh my god! you weren’t supposed to see that! daddy, give it here. please!”

“fat chance, squirt,” the tattooed man retorts. “you passin’ notes in class? that why you’re hidin’ your report card?”

“you can have my report card, when you give that back!”

with the two standing side by side, the resemblance strikes you as clear as day. they share the same hair, same scowl and same rugged intonation to their voices. they’re both yours, your entire world under one roof. before they can blow said root off, you stand between the elder and younger sukuna — turning to your husband with hooded eyes and a gentle hand on the centre of his broad chest. “oh ryo,” you coo in flirtation, slowing his train of thought as you sneakily swipe the crushed paper from his grip. “shut up ‘n let me see that.”

your daughter gags behind you at the display of affection, contrasting with the amused smirk you share with your long time lover. after all this time, marriage and the perfect kid, you’re still able to make a fool out of him — make sukuna’s heart skip a beat and a heat he refuses to acknowledge crawl up the back of his neck. he’s gone soft, for you and his family. for now, for you, he relents on taunting his precious little girl.

casting your gaze over the note, you grin at the pink-ink chicken scratch scribbled across the page. it’s sweet and endearing, reminding you of young love. “did atsushi finally ask you out?” you ask tenderly, handing the paper back to your daughter who cuddles it to her chest like the physical version of a precious memory.

a bashful expression lines the contours of her face, seeping into features you’d recognise from your husband on her. sukuna would argue that she has the shape of your eyes and your beauty too — but all you see is a culmination of love. “ma you were so totally right, playing hard to get really works!”

she gushes dreamily over her crush like it’s puppy love, biting her lip and bouncing on the spot.

“like a charm, every time.” comes your entertained response, much to your husband’s dismay.

“you weren’t playin’ hard to get with me…” sukuna questions rather than states, trying to piece together parts of the gossip that he’s missed. an anxiety corners the beat of his heart at the thought of his daughter dating, something in which the burly man never thought he would be afraid of. the world had been hard on sukuna; he only worries that it’s not as safe for his pride and joy as it were for him. “never mind that; the brat asked you out with a piece of paper? y’better not have said yes. we have standards here.”

his words make you roll your eyes with the hint of a smile. ryomen almost reminding you of your own father around the time you’d met him.

your daughter scrunches her nose petulantly, gearing herself up for a witty reply. “well ma married you, so her standards can’t be that high.” she snaps, earning a stifled laugh from you and an unimpressed grunt from her hardheaded dad. “and no, i didn’t. told him he needed to ask me out properly. face to face. with words. he said to meet him on the running track tomorrow at lunch for a surprise!”

pulling her into a hug, you kiss her round youthful cheek. “oh baby, i'm so happy for you!”

“well i ain’t! show me the damn kid, need to see what kind of pitiful brat wants to ask out my little girl,” sukuna crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, black ink tattoos flexing menacingly as he does so. almost as if he’s preparing to threaten the kid before even meeting him. “whatever happened to askin’ for permission to court or whatever. he should have been on my doorstep asking for your hand.”

“firstly you would have said no, and secondly this isn’t the olden days, dad. nobody does that anymore.” your cheeky daughter chides him loudly, her words slipping over her snarky little tongue. like father like daughter, the way they snip and snap at one another has an uncanny resemblance.

tilting your head upwards towards your fuming husband, you laugh breathlessly in a way that washes away his anger.“she’s right ryo; though my dad hardly approved of you either.” you say softly. even now, you make him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the mind, like he’s so anything for you. whoever dates his daughter should feel the same about her.

“i freakin’ earned it, didn’t i?

“just barely.”

sukuna huffs but settles a hand on your waist from behind and his head atop yours. he needs to soothe himself somehow, his daughter is growing too fast. “stop ganging up on me and lemme see the damn kid.”

“here, isn’t he cute.”

lips downturned, sukuna craned his neck to look at your daughter’s phone from over your shoulder — scrutinising the instagram page that she’s opened now offering the kid his only child has taken an interest in like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. “brat looks like a noodle.” haughty laughter fills the kitchen, reverberating against the bones and organs in ryomen’s chest and buzzing right though your back. “you’re right i woulda said no as soon as he fuckin’ turned up!”

two sets of scolding eyes similar in shape, belonging to the two girls he loves the most swivel around to face the pink haired man disapprovingly.

“ryomen sukuna!”

“daddy!”

“yeah yeah, i know. swear jar.”

ᯓ★ SUGURU GETO:

“my love, were you aware that our little munchkin has a boyfriend?”

suguru looks up from the bubbling pot of child friendly pasta sauce on the stove. if it were just the two of you having dinner tonight, like it was merely three (nearly four) years ago — he would have planned for a more adventurous meal. perhaps sought out a bottle of fine aged wine for you both to enjoy on the balcony and even gotten a dessert to sweeten the date in. but now, you both had more than two hungry tummies to worry about, and bottles of wine could only be purchased when the little one was off with her uncle satoru.

“no, i wasnt. i don't believe that’s come up in discussion before,” your dark haired lover turns his narrow gaze to the giggly little girl swaddled in your arms — her chubby cheeks and dark, curious eyes just peeking out of the fluffy duck-themed towel you’ve wrapped her in. bath time is usually after bed, but someone got into the paint pots at nursery school and managed to get blotches of blue streaked through her hair and under her fingernails. “care to elaborate sweetheart?”

suguru taps the wooden sauce spoon against the side of the pot and swipes his hands on a nearby tea towel before allowing them to rest on his hips, look of faux irritation settling on the contours of his face and slopes of his features. thin brows draw together like closed gates in the middle of his forehead — the expression earning airy light and squealed laughter from your baby girl.

“nuh uhhh! not my boy-fend!” she babbles her way through the big girl word, missing a few syllables here and there, but geto still grins with pride — happily leaning forward to press enthusiastic kisses to his little angel’s damp forehead. “no boy-fend papa!

bouncing your daughter slightly, you cock your hip out to hold her weight and cheekily roll your eyes. “such a daddy’s girl, lying to him already? he’ll let you get away with anything if you keep that up,” though you muster up a pout to rival the toddler’s, the uncanny resemblance warming the cockles or your husband’s heart, your tone is playful and adoring — it’s lilt full of love for the baby girl you made together. you pinch her chubby cheek, waggling it from side to side as more of her childlike laughter tangles with the scent of pasta in the air. “we bumped into the fujioka boy and his mother at the gates this morning, he held her hand all the way up to the classroom. it was quite cute. you had to be there, love.”

“i’m sure,” he responds, gentle mirth and protectiveness swirling in dark framed eyes.

you relay the information to your husband as though it’s hot gossip fresh from the press, whispering over your dark-haired daughter’s head not so secretly. even with the hair and eyes to match suguru’s, she’s still just as much your carbon copy as she is his — he tends to say all of her spirit comes from you, not to mention the way she laughs and smiles.

shaking her head between you, both — your baby chimes in brightly. “noooo mama!! boys are gross, i don’ hold hands with boys.”

this time suguru manoeuvres to pinch her other chubby cheek, clicking his tongue as he does so. “not even papa?” he pretends to pout, crouching down with his hands on his knees to coo into her sweet little face.

“nuhhh, papa isn’t gross!! papa is my favourite boy!” she quickly tacks on with a dribbly smile.

“that’s right. i’ll be the only boy in your life always, just you and i princess,” your husband reaffirms with a firm shake of his head and presses a promise in the form of a kiss to your daughter’s nose. her chubby little hands, still wet from bath time, smack either side of suguru’s face and keep him close — close enough for her to plant a soggy smooch onto his forehead affectionately. a wet kiss only a father could love. “that settles it, i’m no longer sharing my kisses. papa says no boyfriends until you’re ninety.”

once your two loves are done sharing their candied affections, you seat your daughter on the edge of the kitchen table to allow geto the room to finish up with dinner. the comforting symphony of baby babbles and kitchen utensils clanking and food boiling fills the steamy air, it makes you smile. it feels like home. “oh come on suguru, they’re only three. don’t you think it’s the tiniest bit adorable?” you say with a sing-songy voice, entertaining both your little one and her father.“they even share their animal crackers during break time and crayons when it’s time to colour, one of the supervisors told me.”

with his back now to you as he stirs through the pasta sauce one final time, you hardly miss the way suguru’s shoulders tense at the mention of the little boy your girl has taken a liking to. he wouldn’t dare frown about it in front of her, what upsets daddy upsets baby too. that’s why he’s always smiling for her, and you find the man’s subtle jealousy endearing. it’s always supposed to be suguru and his princess, with no room for anyone else ( aside from you, of course )

“nope, no boyfriends. no amount of cuteness can convince me otherwise.” voice falling tight and flat, suguru reaches into the cupboards for plates and bowls to dish up his lovingly prepared home cooked meal, slamming them into place at the table with a little less patience than before.

the idea of some… little boy chasing after his daughter’s heart? over his dead body.

“boy-fends are gross!” but your daughter is forever a daddy’s girl, furrowing her brow and crossing her tiny arms in an act of defiance — supporting her papa’s cause. boyfriends are bad!

fuelling her excitement and even more support for papa — food is served shortly by your husband, who plates up as best as he can with toddler safe dinnerware. you adjust your little girl into her high chair at the table, giggling to yourself softly when she cranes her neck to keep an eye on suguru. “does that mean papa’s gross? he’s technically mama’s boyfriend.”

“husband, love, there’s a difference.”

three plates of hot, aromatic spaghetti are organised in a table — each a domestic reminder of the family suguru geto has been blessed with. in that moment, he thinks he would be happy if he spent the rest of his life as just the three of you. briefly his mind wonders to setting a fourth place at the table in a decade or so’s time, once his daughter truly is old enough to date. the very thought makes him feel ill.

round, doe eyes dart between you and suguru as you take your seats either side of your darling daughter at the table — she mimics you both with fumbling little fingers that reach for her baby fork and concentrates as she attempts to repeat your husband’s words. “can i have a husbsband-love?”

you laugh and kiss her cheek, helping her to gather a bite of pasta on the full end of her fork. “husband. just husband, my love. make sure you blow on your food please!” she follows your instructions with a comical air, cheeks puffing and breath huffing while you explain why her father is a second away from blowing his top. “good girl. husband’s aren’t for babies, baby. and i think papa might not like it if you got one now.”

“if you got one ever!” suguru interjects, eyes narrowing while he fights with his lips to avoid a scowl. “the answer is still no, princess. no husbands and no boyfriends until papa is old, cold and in the ground.”

now that your hands are free, you grab the nearest tea towel and wind it up in your grip — launching its tail end at geto as though to swat at him. he jumps in surprise and your daughter shrieks in amusement as she begins babbling again. “don worry, papa!. fujioka is no my boy-fend!!” she says over food in her mouth and happy tummy. geto wipes over her face again. she’ll definitely need another bath later. “hasegawa is!!”

the pair of you share a look and this time, you really think suguru might just throw in the towel.

how could he compete with pre-school love and paint pots shared over playtime gossip?

“two boyfriends? oh god, love… i think need some air.”

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chosocutegf · 1 year ago

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roommate!Suguru x f!reader

cw: voyeurism, smut

I’m always thinking about roommate!Suguru, and the fact that he would be so obsessed with you.

At first, when you just moved in, he wouldn’t spare you of even a glance and he only spent time with his friends, Shoko and Satoru. However, as time went on, Suguru started to warm to you and you two got to hang out more together. That’s how he became interested in you.

And for suguru being interested meant he was obsessed with you.

Not that you would realise of course, he made sure of never raise your suspicions, but he stopped bringing people at home and only wanted to be with you. he would want to know what you always did, who you hung out with, and where you went.

You noticed something was different with Suguru, when he started to get more touchy. Every moment was an occasion for him to touch you.

You were passing in front of him? Smack on your ass.

You were trying to reach something on a higher shelf? He pressed his body against yours from behind and took it for you, a grin on his face.

You were going out and needed to put a necklace on? He was ready to do that, and he made sure to caress the nape of your neck and hair when he was done.

You didn’t really understand what he wanted from you, until a special event happened.

Suguru caught you touching yourself while talking to another person. It was not his fault he caught you, okay??? You left the door slightly ajar, as if you were inviting him to watch you.

And so he did. He observed you from the little crack of the door, while you panted sitting on top of your sheets, unaware of his presence. Your legs were spread open and he could clearly see your little fingers rubbing your pretty pussy.

He cussed under his breath and reached down to rub his cock over of his pants. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to taste your pussy himself. He listened patiently to your conversation at the phone, while you bit your lower lip, trying to reach that orgasm that the other person was trying to guide you to.

However, it never happened. And Suguru noticed how you faked your orgasm in order to make the call end.

So, the moment you put down the phone, your roommate stepped into your room. Your eyes widened and you close your legs to hide your wet pussy and swollen clit when you saw him, your face burning. “Suguru! Get out!,” you screamed flustered but it only made Suguru chuckle as he approached your bed.

“Who were you talking to?,” He asked teasingly as he sat at the end of the bed. You were still blushing and looked at him with a little pout. “No one,” you murmured, looking away and missing how his cock throbbed in his pants at your indifference and pretty pout.

“They sure were no one if they didn’t make you come… Now let me take care of you, mh?,” He insisted as he slid closer to you on the bed, still not touching you. When you looked back at him, you sighed… why not? You felt restless and disappointed from the person you were talking to, and the man you had in front of you was far much better than them.

Skip forward, that’s how you found yourself laying under your roommate in mating press, your ankles almost reaching your face, and him pounding inside you so hard that you could feel his fat cock inside your stomach. You pleaded him, after so many orgasm, but Suguru wasn’t buying any of that. He wanted your pussy to form around his cock, so that you would never forget that you belonged to him.

He looked down at you with that annoying sexy smirk, sweat dripping down his forehead, and his hair all around him. “Who owns this pussy, baby?,” He asked breathless, observing how your teary eyes were looking up at him, and a fucked out expression on your face.

“S-Sugu… my p-pussy is yours, please… I can’t,” you cried out, sinking your nails in his shoulders. He hissed at the delicious pain, pistoning his cock inside of you faster, almost reaching your cervix. “Fuck, yeah… all mine, princess,” he panted against your face, laughing.

And that’s how he got you full with his cum, your belly swelled from how much he came inside you. He couldn’t stop looking at his cum coming out of your abused hole, and your spent up body over your sheets. “You’re fucking mine, doll… I will stuff you full with my cum to remind you every day~” he smirked, leaning down to bite your inner thigh before getting up to get a cloth to clean you.

(m.list)

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mi55delulu · 1 month ago

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toss up

synopsis: friday night football games, all day marching band competitions on saturday, and sunday schoolwork catch up — the schedule you’ve religiously maintained throughout high school and now college. that is, until you found respite in jungkook’s company.

☼ pairing: tenor drummer!jungkook x colorguard captain!fem reader

☼ wc: 26.5k

☼ genre: marching band/college au, fluff, angst, smut, romcom

☼ cw: jk as loser stuck in a hot body, uptight oc (not too much on my girl ok? i love her) past misunderstandings, miscommunication (i know i hate it too), negative family dynamics, yearning, pining, jealousy, lots of nickname usage, marching band terminology, physical injuries, 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI 🔞, mature language, sexual tension, dirty talk, switch jk & oc, masturbation (m), oral (f receiving), handjob, fingering, brief nipple play, spitting, praising, cum eating, semi-overstimulation, oc gets teary from the good o, riding, missionary, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

☼ a/n: little miss liar here 😌 got ahead of my editing schedule, so might as well release early. anyway! happy bts month!! we are so back, bangtan babes 💜 here’s a very niche fic inspired by real life events. it’s been over 10 years since i’ve marched so pls be easy on me.

banner by the lovely @lovieku *･☆ i also wanna dedicate this fic to her bc she rly gets me so excited to write! nicest person ever like you don’t even know 🥹💖 (pls come back n also open commissions)

”FIVE, SIX—FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT!”

No matter the number sequence, your body always knew when to move.

Having done colorguard since you were 15 years old, you took pride in being section leader for the third year in a row at your university. The band director typically picked their section leaders based on seniority, but skill sets may outrank that on very rare occasions. Everyone was shocked when Director Lee selected you, a first-year at the time, over another fourth-year colorguard member. You would be too had you been in their position.

Except, you weren’t.

You put in the extra hours when no one else did and arrived on time to every practice. To you, that was the bare minimum.

Being a good leader, now, that was the hard part.

You took what you’ve experienced from your past captains: stern in how they led practices, soft in how they uplifted the team during difficult times. Director Lee immediately recognized those qualities in you. Older members rebelled against the decision, but eventually followed suit or left the university marching band due to graduating.

Colorguard was a sport — you’d argue that it rivaled football. Because who could toss a flag, run 20 yards on the field, and catch between your legs? Yeah. An athlete. Above that, colorguard was a form of visual arts — the storytellers of the marching band. You had a love-hate relationship with colorguard, but the final results were always worth it … be it through winning competitions or feeling a sense of accomplishment. It’s the start of the field season and you’re currently at the ‘hate’ part.

“Shit!”

The music and band members come to a halt after Hoseok signals the band to stop. Everyone’s visibly upset, sunburnt, and probably dehydrated. This was the sixth time in the last hour of practice the band was forced to stop and reset for a mistake, which meant another five push-ups got added onto the post-practice punishment.

You squint your eyes down the field and realize the commotion involved one of your colorguard members and someone from the drumline.

Fuck.

“JUICEBOX!” Director Lee yells from his megaphone in the stands. “Fix it before I do!”

You’d assume he was yelling for a beverage, but no. It was common to have nicknames in marching band. One could acquire a nickname for the following reasons: long name, director hated you, director loved you, or memorable moment. Unfortunately, you got yours when Director Lee witnessed you chugging down five apple juiceboxes after your first tryout. Memorable moment … at least he didn’t hate you, so you think.

You spot Yuri, your colorguard member, arguing with Jaehyun, a tenor drummer.

“Dude, you fucking hit me with your flag and you want to complain that I was in your spot?” Jaehyun seethes.

“Well, like I said, it wouldn’t have hit you if you weren’t in my spot!” Yuri huffs and drops her flag in frustration.

“Yuri, what’s wrong?” You jog over.

“Mr. Irrational over here is pissed off because he walked into my toss. But look, my drill told me I’m on the 40. Not my fault I need to cut through them to get to my spot.”

Sometimes the drills didn’t mesh well with the choreography. It wasn’t the end of the world, just annoying to fix. From behind, you hear instruments shuffle — specifically another set of tenor drums.

“Juice.”

You sigh. Not from the nickname, but from the person saying it.

“Set #10 shows Yuri with the baritones on the left. She’s not at the wrong spot, but she shouldn’t be cutting through the tenors, instead going around us. There’s 16 counts in this set, so she’ll have plenty of travel time.”

Jeon Jungkook, third-year, lead tenor drum player. You haven’t gotten the chance to know him … how could you when there’s over 200 members, 18 of which belonged in your section. Based on what you’ve heard and witnessed, he’s an average drummer. Nothing noteworthy. And because of that, you don’t understand why everyone fawned over him. Sure, he’s tall and conventionally good looking. Had a nice head of hair and a distinct laugh that’d grab anyone’s attention. Maybe that’s why? Jungkook was like any other boy in college … the only difference was that he knew how to play the tenor drums.

To be clear, no, Jungkook wasn’t a section leader. That was Yoongi’s role as center snare. Which makes you wonder why he’s trying to resolve this with you when you should be hashing it out with Yoongi. Ignoring him, you walk over to Yoongi to confirm the coordinates.

“Yeah, Kook is right.” He nods after reviewing the drills. From the side, you see Jungkook beam from the acknowledgment.

“Ha! See, you were wrong,” the other tenor player says to Yuri as he sets his drums down.

“Jaehyun.” Jungkook’s stern voice catches you off guard.

“What? It’s true!”

“You were two counts early to the spot. Wouldn’t have gotten hit if you were on time.”

Jaehyun scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

Noobie ego. If you didn’t nip it early on, it was going to cause issues in the future. You had a few of those in your years of being a captain; consequently, you left some unchecked and those became the biggest lessons for you.

You look at Yoongi with your brows raised, silently asking him, ‘You gonna take care of that?’

He merely stares back with a look that said, ‘Too tired … it’s my last season. Give me a break.’

Yoongi wasn’t lazy. He’s one of the many section leaders you respected and enjoyed working with. He remained factual and cleaned up things before they became a problem. Most importantly, Yoongi was fair and reliable. You’ve got a lot to learn from him before he graduates this semester.

“Alright,” Jungkook stuffs his sticks back into the side pockets. “Tenors, give me ten.”

The other two tenors groan and take off their drums and harness. Jaehyun, along with the tenors, drop to the ground and begin their push-ups. What surprised you was Jungkook also going down to do the push-ups too. You've always been a firm believer of the saying ‘when a ship sinks, the captain will go down with it.’

They’re back up within seconds. Jungkook looked like he barely broke a sweat outside the sweat lines on his shirt caused by his harness.

“All good?” Hoseok, the drum major, calls out from his stand. You and Yoongi throw a thumbs up.

“Reset! Take it from the top.” Hoseok calls out to the other band members.

Director Lee waits till everyone gets back into position before turning on his megaphone. “You all wasted seven minutes of practice, so add another five push-ups.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Practice ended two hours later with 75 push-ups. Not bad, but also not good. At least it didn’t hit the triple digits. Jungkook always saw push-ups as a way to condition his body.

Long hours of practice with his section, ensemble, and individually filled up his day. A wonder how he manages to juggle marching band and school at the same time, but he gets it done. Jungkook knows he isn’t the best, but he’s a hard worker. He loves a good challenge and what better way to challenge himself by playing tenor? Sure, he could’ve stuck with a single bass drum, but tenors had four drums. How cool was that?

You certainly didn’t think so.

Never once batted a single eyelash in his direction in the last three years he’s marched with you. Jungkook exhales deeply after finishing his Gatorade. “She hates me.”

“Who?” Jimin asks while rolling up his flag silks.

“Your captain.” Jungkook pouts.

“Juicebox? Nah.”

“Then why does she always look like she smells something bad when she’s around me?”

“Rude, what if that’s just her face?” It wasn’t. In all his years of spinning with this school, Jimin has a good idea of who you are. You’re strict, but a sweet person underneath that tough exterior.

“She’s just …” Jimin follows Jungkook’s line of vision where you’re laughing with the woodwinds section lead, Kim Namjoon. “Anyway, maybe it’s because you do smell.”

Jungkook scoffs. He knows for a fact he doesn’t smell. Everyone gets a little musty after practice, but Jungkook prides himself on good hygiene. Literally the bare minimum to shower after every practice and reapply deodorant throughout the day. Unfortunately, not the case for certain band kids.

“Just kidding. You know the smelliest title goes to Ryo,” Jimin teases, “need to start gifting him some body wash this Christmas.”

“Don’t bother,” Yoongi chimes in. “This is his last field season. Let the man live a little. Saves you a couple bucks too.” He finishes locking up the instruments and bends down to tie his laces.

“Cap,” Jungkook deadpans, “don’t you think she hates me?”

Yoongi stands up and squints at Jungkook, “I think you need to worry about cleaning up your solo in the opener. JB is the least of your concerns.”

“But—”

Yoongi sticks up a finger to Jungkook’s face. “More drumming, less JB fixation. Gotta bounce to a section leader meeting. Catch y’all later.” With that, Yoongi joins the small group of people at the front of the band room, you included. You look back to where Jungkook and Jimin stood. Jimin waves at you and you wave back. Jungkook does the same and receives a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, she hates you.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

“So as you all know, this year’s show is a spy theme, specifically Mr. & Mrs. Smith.”

Hoseok stands at the front of the lecture hall, the projector displaying the mood board Director Lee had him make. He wasn’t at the meeting, but he trusted Hoseok enough to get his message across. It’s not that he didn’t want to be here, but he preferred a more hands off approach — thinks it’s building your communication and teamwork skills. Though, Namjoon theorizes that budget cuts to the performing arts department was the driving factor and Lee hasn’t been able to hire any instructors or technicians to help out. Nonetheless, this brought you all closer together.

“I swear, Lee sees one movie with his wife and gets inspired.” Minji, one of the assistant drum majors, says.

“Agree. Last year he had us do Pirates of the Caribbean because he went on a cruise with his wife.” Namjoon cackles and the rest of the group joins in.

“Alright, alright. Reel it back in,” Hoseok claps.

“He wants to tell a story … said there has to be an opposite attracts meets forbidden love kind of thing. So I’m going to really need to lean on visuals for this.” Hoseok looks in your direction and you are unphased. The visual part of the show was just as important as the music. Where band members held a stoic expression during the show, colorguard told a story using their body, face, and equipment.

“I’m thinking Juicebox can be one of the spies, but we need one from the band. Any volunteers?” Hoseok looks around the room.

Namjoon raises his hand. For a moment, you thought he was going to volunteer. “Think me and my section will have to pass on this one. Almost got taken out by Jimin’s sabre last season.”

“That’s cause you were supposed to catch with your hands and not with your head,” you retort.

“I blame the wind,” Namjoon grins. “Anyway, since sax did something last season, woodwind folks should have immunity.”

“Eh, let’s check in with our sections and see if there are any takers.” Yoongi suggests.

The hour goes by quickly with some distractions here and there. What do you expect from a bunch of college students? Still, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

To your luck, no one volunteered. As a result, Namjoon begrudgingly offered himself to the task. This was his final season, so he thought he’d go out with a bang.

And indeed, he did. During practice, you demonstrated a toss you planned to do in the show. Upon turning your back to get some water, Namjoon thought it was a good idea to mimic what you did … unsupervised, which landed him in urgent care with two fractured fingers.

“Shit … I’m sorry, Joon,” you say after the doctor left the room with the aftercare summary. A minimum of three to four weeks to heal. You know it was no fault of yours. He’s technically not out for the season, but missing a bulk of practices will be too much to catch up on. A duet with you is out of the question.

“Ha … this was on me. What I get for undermining what you guys do on the field.” He jokes. It was true to some extent, people think all you guys do is twirl around a flag. It was always so much more than that. “I’m the one that should be sorry, Juicebox. Now we have to find someone else for the duet.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just focus on healing. Our first halftime show is in about three months. So you’ll be back on the field at least.” A small part of you worries about not finding a replacement in time. There’s about another 180 band members to ask — one was bound to volunteer, right?

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

snare lord [10:28 p.m.]: Duet position with JB is open. Lmk if you still want it. DON’T be weird.

Jungkook drops his sticks on his drumming pad and sits up from his bed, eyes widening at Yoongi’s message. He waits about 30 seconds before typing up a response so that he doesn't come off desperate. He threw a mini tantrum when Yoongi (deliberately?) failed to mention that the spy duet was with you, but Namjoon had already volunteered by then. This will be a good chance to get to know you and figure out if you truly disliked him. Plus, he’s always been interested in colorguard — interested in you.

Jungkook [10:28 p.m.]: waaaat? wat happened to joon?

Jungkook panics when 10 minutes pass and Yoongi doesn’t respond. Fears that he missed his window and someone else said yes to the part. Perhaps playing nonchalant wasn’t for him.

snare lord [10:41 p.m.]: Injured :/ Do you want to do it or not? Jungkook [10:41 p.m.]: yes snare lord [10:42 p.m.]: 👍👍 I’ll give her your contact and you guys can chat more.

This entire ordeal felt surreal, like a fan finally meeting their idol. Simply put, Jungkook admired you. Your work ethics, facial expressions … oh, and flexibility. Yeah. Sure, Jimin can do the splits too. Well, 90% of the folks in your section can, but there’s something so captivating about how you’d slowly drop down into the splits like it’s second nature.

Unknown [11:01 p.m.]: Hey. Is this Jungkook?

He nearly falls out of bed. It’s you. Has to be.

Jungkook [11:01 p.m.]: yours truly. juice??? Unknown [11:01 p.m.]: Yep. Yoongi told me you’re interested in the duet. When’s your first class tomorrow? Jungkook [11:02 p.m.]: 8 😬 why? 🧃 [11:02 p.m.]: Cool, meet in the band room at 5:30am tomorrow. Wear comfortable clothes you can move in. Thanks for volunteering btw.

He reacts to the message with a thumbs up, smiling as he locks and sets his phone down on his nightstand. Jungkook has never been this excited to wake up early.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Early morning practices were not ideal. Having Jungkook as a partner? Not your first pick either, but it’s too late into the season to complain. Beggars can’t be choosers. You’ve got a limited time to train and teach him a routine. You arrive at the band room by 5 to stretch and Jungkook comes through the door by 5:16, eyes and cheeks still swollen from sleep but he greets you with a warm smile. He’s in an all black attire: gym shorts and a fitted long sleeve. His physique doesn't quite match up to Namjoon’s, but you know he’s strong. Got to be when he’s carrying those 35lb drums the entire show.

“Morning,” he sets his backpack to the side and sits in front of you to stretch.

“Hi,” you greet, while going down lower in your butterfly stretch, “thanks again for volunteering.”

He smiles softly with a nod. “So what’s on the lesson plan for today, Cap?”

Today’s practice only involved the basics: ballet positions, floor work, and equipment overview. Nothing crazy. And yet, Jungkook finds himself drenched in sweat an hour into practice. Who knew jazz runs would require him to use all the muscle groups in his ass?

“Remember to turn out. Do it again.” You say with your hands on your hips.

This was the 10th time you made him start over. Jungkook was frustrated. Didn’t realize how stiff his body was from drumming all these years. Also didn’t realize how nervous he’d get under your watch. Jimin warned that your serious mode competed with Hoseok’s. He never doubted this. Jungkook wants to crawl into a hole every time your face fights a scowl when he forgets what to do next. He thought you’d be a little more lenient during the first practice. Was Namjoon subjected to this too?

Practice ends a little before 8 to allow him to cool down and get ready for class. Jungkook watches you put on your hoodie and fix your hair. He didn't think there was a single hair out of place before, but what did he know about perfection when he’s been a total mess the entire practice?

“Good work today,” you say.

“Don’t lie, that was rough,” he jokes before grabbing his stuff.

“Yeah, it was.” You agree and Jungkook’s stomach churns from your bluntness.

He goes on with his day in classes, half thinking about the show’s new drill, half thinking about ways to impress you. Would he earn your approval if he came into practice remembering all the 27 points on the flag? Was this desperation? Possibly. He returns to his dorm room later that evening. Sits on his desk chair and mindlessly drums his hands on his thigh. Wonders if he should ask you if practice was going to be that early every time because he physically doesn’t think he can do that again. Jungkook fishes for his phone in his pocket and sees a couple of notifications, but the only ones that mattered were yours.

🧃 [7:23 p.m.]: No one’s good the first time. Just keep practicing. 🧃 [7:23 p.m.]: Also don’t forget to stretch. You’ll be sore tomorrow. 🧃 [7:25 p.m.]: I know drumline has practice on Monday and Wednesday afternoons. Let me know if Wednesday evenings work for you.

Jungkook didn’t care much for the days of the week, but Wednesdays became his favorite.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Weeks go by and Jungkook has made significant improvements. He’s still somewhat stiff, but his passion makes up for what he lacks. The show is about a third written. Homestretch, as Director Lee would say.

“CUT!” Director Lee yells from the stand, “Juicebox, Jungkook, the work looks fine but I’m not feeling the energy. Don’t know what it is, but fix it. Let’s do a 10 minute water break and we start from the ballad.”

“So … how’s working with Jungkook?” Jimin asks. He’s shirtless and unfortunately sunburnt — almost all the band members are. Hard to avoid when it’s blazing outside. Field season essentials were sunscreen and aloe vera.

You knew Jungkook needed some whenever he’d flinched from your touch during a specific part of the show. Maybe you’ll give some to him after practice today.

“It’s fine.”

You look over at Jungkook. He’s with the rest of the drumline, gulping down his water and letting some drip down his neck. Yeah. Definitely hotter today. The weather, that is.

Yuri sighs. “Is it too late to swap, Cap? I don’t mind being Mrs. Smith …” she twirls the ends of her hair and watches Jungkook put on his harness.

“You wanna toss a six on sabre while spinning under it?” Jimin snorts.

Yuri immediately shakes her head and you laugh. You had no doubt that Yuri could do it. She’s an exceptional dancer, but lacked the stamina and confidence when it came to weapons. She knows this too and rather have a special part of the show be done by someone more consistent with their catches.

Jimin turns to you again. “Only asking because Lee has been on you guys for looking … odd.”

There’s a small period of adjustment when it comes to dancing with someone new. Jungkook was … different. Makes you feel weird how he looks up at you in his kneeled position. Makes you feel weirder every time he tenses when you need to sit on one of his thighs for part of the choreo. Bad enough to where you forgot two counts and you never forget.

“Choreo is still fresh for the both of us. It’ll take some time.” You reason. “Anyway, can everyone come over here?” Your section huddles closer. “First show is next week. It’s crunch time, so I need you all to stay an extra hour after the ensemble to clean our work.”

There were some complaints, but no major protest. Everyone knows how important the first show of the season is. It wasn’t like homecoming or anything, but everyone will be there — football parents, band parents, and students.

Director Lee sounds the buzzer on his megaphone and everyone jogs back into position. Jungkook smiles at you in passing and you nod in acknowledgment. His smile drops a little and you feel a small rush of guilt. Maybe you’ve also been difficult too. You think back on Jimin’s question … you know what he’s hinting. You and Jungkook were an important piece of the show. The routine was good. What lacked was chemistry and you knew it was your fault.

How do you go about being more natural with Jungkook when you’ve been holding a grudge? An age old grudge that anyone should’ve forgotten by now, yet you’re reminded of it every time you see him.

You’re on autopilot as you dance around Jungkook during this run through for the evening. This was the part where Jungkook moved his hands at the last minute so that you could pierce the ground with the sabre. Not realizing you were a count ahead, you pierced his hand instead.

He hisses in pain. Minji spots the accident and immediately signals Hoseok to stop.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you apologize frantically. Hands were a big part of a musician’s career and you’d be damned if you were responsible for hurting Jungkook.

“It’s fine, think I just need some ice,” he winces and holds his hand close to his chest.

“Jungkook, Juicebox, take care of things off the field,” Director Lee calls out, “everyone else, from the top.”

You and Jungkook walk to the bleachers where Director Lee stood.

“Let’s see the damage, kid.” Director Lee holds his hand out. Lee was multifaceted. Truly jack of all trades. The university got really lucky with him … band director, golf coach, and physical therapist. He’s no longer in practice, of course, but he brings a wealth of knowledge and experience to the university. Plus, he’s able to treat folks with minor injuries. You hope this was a minor one.

“That’s a big one,” he turns Jungkook’s hand to one side, pressing down on the top of his palm to inspect the bones. Jungkook grimaces and pulls his hand back.

“Flex and clench your hands,” he hums, “okay, there’s still mobility. Will bruise and hurt for a few days, but I recommend checking with the school nurse tomorrow if you can’t close your fist. Ice up for the rest of practice.”

You jog to Minji’s special cooler for situations like this. Injuries happened to band kids more than you’d imagined. It is, of course, still a sport. You return to Jungkook with a tied bag of ice. He massages his hand and winces in pain when he gets to the center of the injury. As you near, he masks his pain with a smile and you feel even more guilty.

“Thanks,” he says when you hand him the bag. He exhales at the icy touch.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again, “I was a count early and I didn’t realize your hand was there,” It’s one thing to be in the wrong, it’s another to admit it. You’re only as good as your pride.

He shakes his head, “I knew you hated me but I didn’t think you were trying to take me out the season too.” He tries to joke to lighten the mood, but regrets it when you frown.

“Uh, my bad,” Jungkook apologizes. “That wasn’t—”

“I don’t hate you …” you admit softly.

He pauses, leans against the bleachers, and exhales through his nose, “I know.”

You and Jungkook watch the show from the bleachers. It’s interesting seeing gaps in your respective sections. The show will still go on, but your absence does not go unnoticed.

“Ah, Jimin dropped his flag. That’s another five push-ups.” Jungkook whispers to you.

You snort and chuckle. Jungkook looks shocked for a moment then softens. You’ve always been closed off around him, strictly choosing to discuss the show as his duet partner. This was different.

He likes this side of you. Hates to be those guys who say a woman looks better when they’re smiling. True and false in your case. Cause objectively, you’re an attractive woman. Finds you super cool when you’re expressionless and in the zone.

Jungkook always hated the sun — spent his early years in life constantly running away from it whether it be staying indoors or under a tree. He had the choice to pick between taekwondo or marching band. As much as Jungkook hated the sun, he picked the sport with the most time spent in it. Thinks he can make amends with the sun now.

Because as you smile, Jungkook never thought he’d be so easily swayed at the sight of sunlight hitting your cheekbones.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Practice ends with 30 push-ups. You get down from the bleachers to complete yours — not without scolding Jungkook to remain seated since his hand wasn’t in the right condition to do anything strenuous at the moment. He pouts, but adheres to your orders.

Yoongi checks up on Jungkook after he sets his drums down. He whistles at the gnarly bruise and shakes his head at you, mimicking something close to disappointment. “First Namjoon, now Jungkook? You’re actually an undercover agent trying to sabotage us huh, JB?”

“You would’ve been my first target if that were the case.” You shrug. Yoongi chuckles and turns back to Jungkook, who looks at you both peculiarly like the cogs in his brain are slowly piecing something together he doesn’t quite favor.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up. I’ll have one of the guys put away your drum. Just head home.” Yoongi pats Jungkook’s shoulder as he leaves the field.

Before running to get your equipment, you turn to Jungkook again. “Hey, I’m sorry—”

“If you’re gonna apologize again, I’m gonna make Yoongi have you put away my drums instead.”

You sigh. “Fine. I can reschedule our practices if your hand still hurts. Just let me know.” You part ways from Jungkook to wrap up practice with your section. From afar, you spot a hoard of band members gathering around Jungkook to either check on him or admire the injury. He’s cared for by many. If he was anything like the version you’ve conjured in your mind, you don’t think people would be so concerned for his well being.

People change and maybe your perception of Jungkook should too.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

“Juice? Uh, what are you …” Jungkook looks shocked to see you at the doorway of his room. Didn’t even think you’d know where he stayed, but here you are in all of your glory looking up at him like you shouldn’t be here too. It’s Wednesday, the day after you accidentally stabbed Jungkook's hand, but also the day you’re both supposed to be practicing. Jungkook texted you this morning asking you to reschedule practice because something came up. You had a feeling he was lying about his injury to spare you from guilt.

“How’s your hand doing?” You try to look down, but he has it hidden behind the door.

“It’s alright,” he answers quickly. “Wait, how do you know where I live?”

“Yoongi.” You rock on your heels and look awkwardly around.

“Oh.” He’s unsure why he feels uneasy about this answer. You could’ve just asked him.

“Is there something you need?”

“Not particularly?” God. This was uncomfortable and a part of you wants to apologize for bothering him and leave.

“Would you like to come in?” He looked back at his room to make sure it was presentable. Other than some laundry on his bed he’s been procrastinating on folding and some music sheets on the floor, it’s not half bad.

“Yeah, just for a bit, if you don’t mind. I won’t be long.”

He opens the door wider for you to walk through. No turning back now. His room was utterly plain. Navy blue fitted sheets, spotless desk, and no posters or wall decorations in sight. It’s as if his only use for the place was to sleep. Jungkook gestures over at his desk chair for you to sit. You set your backpack down, not before grabbing a small jar of ointment out. He sits on the edge of his bed and peers over with curious eyes.

“Let me see your hand.” You nod your head at his injured hand. He reluctantly pulls his hand to the front and your eyes widen.

“It’s not as awful as it looks …”

“Jungkook.”

“Okay, yeah, it’s pretty bad.” He chuckles.

You roll the chair closer to him to examine the bruise. Bruises were common in colorguard — in fact, you’ve got plenty on your forearms and legs. The one on Jungkook’s hand tops them all. You unscrew the cap of the ointment jar and scoop a dime sized amount on your finger. Your other hand holds his from the bottom while you carefully dab the medication on the injury. With years of tending to your own wounds, you’ve learned that you should never rub a fresh bruise, but it always speeds up the healing process when you warm the area. Soft in your ministrations, the ointment quickly melts from the warmth of your touch. Jungkook never expected to receive this sort of treatment from a classmate let alone you of all people. This was expected from someone like his mother — someone that cared for him.

Do you?

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Doesn’t know where he should stare at. Doesn't know if he should feel the way he does.

“Tell me if it hurts.” You don’t look up, strictly focusing on the task at hand.

His hands were much larger than yours. He kept his nails cut short and clean, palms calloused from all the years of drumming. Yours were no different. Manicures weren’t a necessity as you preferred to keep them short. Despite the roughness of your hands, there’s an unexplainable softness in your touch.

A couple of minutes go by and you’re quite impressed Jungkook has gone this long without talking to you. The silence makes you wonder if you should say something. After all, you did barge into his space to apply ointment out of guilt.

“Are you and Yoongi close?”

“Who’d you march with in 2010?”

You and Jungkook look up at one another after asking a question at the same time.

“Yoongi?” Your brows furrow.

“Yeah,” he relaxes at your touch. Your fingers pull at his to release any tension and Jungkook has to fight the urge to moan.

You think for a bit. Were you close to Yoongi? He was one of the few that didn’t give you shit or questioned your capabilities when Lee initially selected you as captain. The bond you shared was built on mutual respect. You suppose that’s one of the important foundations of a friendship. But you wouldn’t say you were too close to him on a personal level. He’s a friend nonetheless.

“Sort of? Why?”

“Nothing. Just wondering.” His shoulders drop. “And 2010? Was still marching in high school.”

Obviously. You internally roll your eyes. Perhaps you need to be more specific.

“Summer 2010. Have you done drum corps?”

Drum corps were independent marching band groups. Similar to intramural sports, people from all over the country tried out for these groups and only the best got selected. Certain groups had an age cap. After that, you “aged out” and joined other groups that accepted all ages, typically less rigorous and accommodating to a wider age range. The circuit you’ve marched with was more competitive … maybe because there was a time constraint to be young and good.

“Summer 2010 …” he repeats back to himself. “Ah! I tried out for Red Angels.”

That was all the confirmation you needed. “I see.”

“Why?”

“Nothing. Just wondering.” You mimic his answer and refocus on your ministrations.

He's lost. One moment you seem fine, but now it feels like you're shutting him out. “Did you do drum corps?” He tries.

“Yup.”

Jungkook lights up. He’s always been a fan of drum corps. Didn’t know you’ve done them too. Though, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. You’re very good at what you do. Hell, half, if not all, of the band could be marching in drum corps, but it was rigorous and costly. After getting cut from auditions back in high school, he hasn’t tried for drum corps again.

“What? I didn’t know that. Who have you marched with?”

“Phantoms and Red Angels.” You recount.

“No way! Wait, Red Angels? When?”

“2010, 2012.”

Jungkook pauses. He doesn’t recall seeing you, but then again, he didn’t make the cut after two weeks of tryouts to remember any faces.

“Alright, I think this is enough,” you say, unsure if you meant the ointment or the conversation.

He’s learned so much more about you in these couple of minutes than he has in the weeks of practice with you. Feels a bit disappointed as you release his hand to grab your stuff.

You place the jar of ointment on his desk. “Make sure to rub some on every night, but be gentle with it. Should speed up the healing process.”

Jungkook is in a daze as he thanks you and walks you out. He’d like to think the tingles on his hand were from the ointment worked into his skin and not from you.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

You designated Sundays for schoolwork. Because you were rarely home, you preferred working from your apartment, but on rare occasions you’d be forced to go on campus. Today was one of those days. Your internet was down and you had a virtual call scheduled with all the section leaders later. Coffee shops were not ideal due to all the coffee grinding and foot traffic. When in doubt, you head to the campus library to grab a private study room or table. You should’ve known that it would be obsolete, especially on a Sunday. That’s when everyone’s trying to study or get their assignments done. You opt to sit outside instead. Except … the connection was awful and it was warm out. This might be the driving point for you to upgrade your home internet package.

“Come on ...” You try to move closer to the facilities for a better connection. But you keep getting that circle of death on your screen. Maybe you also need a new laptop?

“Juice?”

“Oh, Jungkook. Hi.” You wipe away some of the sweat from your hairline.

Jungkook looked casual in his slides, t-shirt, and sweats. You personally wouldn’t have picked to wear sweats in this weather, but you assume he was just here to pick up his food from the dining corner judging from the greasy brown bag in his hand.

“Whatcha doing?” He asks.

“Homework. Er, trying to at least. Think I’ll go somewhere else … Internet connection is pretty bad out here.” You place your bag on the bench and begin packing.

“Would you like to study at my dorm? Got air conditioning and the connection there isn’t too shabby.”

You want to say no. That night where you helped him with his hand was to absolve your own guilt for physically hurting him. A one off. But you’ve already driven all the way here and you’re not sure where you would go if not just back home. Plus, gas was expensive. ‘Just this once,’ you tell yourself.

He looks at you with eager eyes, smiling wider when you nod.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Jungkook was on strike two at the 30 minute mark of studying in his room. The first time was when he started practicing on his drumming pad. The second was when he started humming all his parts in the show. He didn’t lie though — the wifi speed was great here and the air conditioning was nice. Since you occupied his desk, he took his spot on his bed. The times you bent down to get something from your backpack, you’d sneak a peek at what he was up to. He had his earphones in and drummed on his stomach with his hands. The color of his bruised hand looks infinitely better. You’d like to think it was thanks to your ointment, but you know a big part of it was because he was diligent with your instructions. Him and his cooperative nature. He was a good listener — valued what you had to say.

Jungkook turns and catches you staring. You immediately turn back to your laptop. He sighs, “can we talk?”

“I know you said you don’t hate me,” Jungkook starts, “but I can’t help but feel like I did something wrong. Did I?”

“You didn’t.” Half truth.

He doesn’t buy it. “Come on. We’ve been working together and it feels like there’s always this wall—”

“Jungkook,” you run your hand down your face, “has it ever crossed your mind that not everyone’s compatible as friends?”

His face falls. Jungkook was kind enough to offer his space for you to study and here you are being an asshole. Hell, he’s been nice all season from offering to take on the duet after Namjoon’s injury to showing up to all the practices on time. You’re not being fair at all. You don’t understand why you’re like this. Well, no, you do. Maybe if you talked about it, it would give you some closure too.

“You tried out for Red Angels that one summer.” You mumble.

He furrows his brows in confusion. “Yes.” It comes out as a question.

“I remember you.”

“Okay?” He sounds a little frustrated and rightfully so since you’ve been dancing around the topic of you and Jungkook in circles. You also feel a bit stupid now that you’re finally expressing what’s been bothering you.

“I overheard you talking to the other drummers that time. You said something about how colorguard are the cheerleaders of marching band.”

“I did? Juice … I promise I’m not trying to be dismissive, but I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

You know he’s not. This shit was over five years ago. It’s dumb and the more you talk about it, you realize how stupid of a grudge it was to hold over Jungkook for something that happened to you in high school.

“During my freshman year of high school, I dated a senior,” you reveal.

“Yikes. I’m sorry.”

“I know, big mistake.”

Jungkook internally tries to correlate the two pieces of information, but comes short. He’s confused. So you tell him. Told him how your ex was the drum major of your high school marching band. Told him how you thought he liked you a lot. Told him that you lost your virginity to him one month into dating and how he broke up with you the following week.

“Asshole.” Jungkook mutters.

You smile, “right?”

You clear your throat before continuing, “he said some shit about how colorguard are the cheerleaders of marching band. Was a dig at colorguard and cheerleaders. Like that we’re ‘easy?’”

“I guess … I was upset when I heard it again at the Red Angels tryouts. Fuck, is that stupid?” You palm your forehead. You weren’t expecting to drop your past lore to someone, let alone Jungkook.

“What? No! First off, fuck him. I’m sorry he treated you like that.”

You soften at his words. You don’t really talk much about the things that happened in high school because … honestly, the only good thing that happened in high school was colorguard despite the situation with that senior. Outside of being a pubescent teen, you never cared to reminisce about the past. Found it odd knowing people who called their high school years “the glory days.” You initially decided to go to this university because of their marching band program, but also, you wanted a fresh start. Seeing Jungkook was a reminder of the past.

“It was the past. I associated that situation with what you said at tryouts. We obviously didn’t know each other and I didn’t know I’d be seeing you again in school.” You shake your head.

“Juice,” he says softly.

“In hindsight, it’s stupid. I know. You’re probably a nice dude and you’re free to feel what you feel about people in colorguard—”

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupts. “Fuck that dude. You didn’t deserve that. And no, I don’t think of you or anyone in colorguard that way.”

“But you said …”

Jungkook exhales, “this is going to sound dumb, but back then I thought the saying meant that colorguard were the highlight of the marching band performance … kind of like the fact that cheerleaders are the highlight of football games. I honestly didn’t know there was another meaning.” He mumbles.

“Oh.”

You and Jungkook stare at each other with pursed lips now that everything has aired out.

“I’m glad you told me about your past. That explains some things …” he looks to the side, “I hope you know I’m not that kind of person. And I understand what you mean about people just not being compatible. Friendships can’t be forced and I won’t force that on you either.”

You nod, “thank you.” You’ve been difficult all this time and now that Jungkook was respecting your boundaries, you feel out of place.

“Don’t you have a section leader meeting soon?” He nods at his digital clock.

“How did you know?”

He smiles sheepishly, “Yoongi complains about it in the group chat. Says it’s overkill.”

You snort. “It is, but Lee thinks it’s good for us.”

“Yeah, well … I’ll just be here,” he puts his earphones back in his ears and lays back on his bed. Your stare lingers before you turn back to your laptop. You’re a little embarrassed about how this transpired in the last couple of minutes, but there’s relief in knowing you were wrong about Jungkook. More than that, you realize why people appreciated him.

Your virtual meeting starts and you assume it’ll be a quick one, that is until Hoseok gets to your updates. “Sooo, Juicebox. Lee has this crazy idea …”

You tilt your head. Whatever Lee wants, Lee gets. Just the matter if he’ll give you enough time to execute it.

Hoseok smiles sheepishly, “last time, we had Namjoon catch a sabre tossed to him. What if we had a band member toss AND catch something? Jungkook, specifically. Lee was thinking … a five. Is that unreasonable?”

Unreasonable was an understatement. Namjoon’s catch was different … for one, it was just a triple, three rotations in the air. Second, Jimin was the one that tossed it to him. A five? There were people that have spun for years and never reach a five on a weapon. Not that they were bad, but people had different strengths and skill sets. Jungkook was just your partner in this show. You’ve only taught him the basics in the event Lee wanted something extra. You weren’t expecting this.

“I don’t know if it’s possible. I can try to train him, but no promises.”

“Don’t think it’s a good idea,” Yoongi interjects, “Jungkook is lead tenor. I need him in top condition … if he gets hurt again …”

“Not saying it’s a must or anything. Let’s explore that idea and if it’s a no go, we won’t move forward with it.” Hoseok says.

Everyone on the call reacts with a thumbs up. The call shifts over to the topic of a fundraiser. “Rehearsathon,” as Namjoon calls it, involved each band member reaching out to sponsors for donations to pledge they’ll rehearse for 12 hours straight. It sounds ridiculous, but Namjoon swears it works. Raises money for the band and everyone gets in extra practice time — hits two birds with one stone. He thinks it’ll be a great opportunity to chat up with some folks at the upcoming football game to get some sponsors.

Having ended the call an hour later, you think you’ve overstayed your welcome. You pack up and mentally prepare to tell Jungkook you’re leaving.

“What’s not possible?” Jungkook straightens himself up on his bed.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“Guilty,” he confesses, “can’t blame me �� I’m literally two feet away and these earphones aren’t exactly noise cancelling. So, what’s not possible?”

“Lee wants to add another wow factor into the show.” You get up and Jungkook stands up as well, “wants you to do a five on weapon.”

“I don’t see why not. It’s worth a try.”

You put on your backpack and look at Jungkook incredulously. “Namjoon got taken out for a couple weeks by accident.”

“Okay, but you’ll be teaching and watching me, right?” He looks at you with those big, hopeful eyes again and you wonder to yourself if you both aren’t as compatible as you deem.

“Fine. We’ll try it next practice. Thanks again for letting me work here … you didn’t have to.” You mumble.

“Yeah, cause this space is only reserved for friends.” He jokes. “Kidding, Juice. It’s really no big deal.”

Ever so the gentleman, Jungkook walks you to your car even after you reassured that it’s not needed. He made up some excuse that he just wanted some fresh air.

You both arrive at your car and you turn to him. “Well, thanks again.” You unlock your car and toss your backpack into the backseat. He waves and tells you to drive safely. The distance between you and Jungkook grows as he walks back to his dorm.

You don’t know what compelled you to call out his name, but he turns quickly as if he’s also been waiting for this moment. “I never said I didn’t want to be friends with you. And yeah, you’re right. Colorguard is the highlight of the show.”

He smiles, and it’s devastating. How your body warms from just his smile. How it dismantles the walls you’ve built up around Jungkook. The foundation was weak to start, waiting for the right moment to crumble and start anew. You’re sure you can.

“I know. See you at practice, Juice.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Men in colorguard dominated the weapon line. They had the strength and stamina to toss a rifle with little to no struggle. Pain tolerance though? You question that. Jungkook had the energy, but his control was off. It’s not his fault. This was his first time touching a rifle. The average person isn’t tossing and catching random objects. Anything that goes up, will have to come down. And having a rifle barreling down your head isn’t anyone’s idea of fun.

“You have to squeeze.” You say after another lofty toss that has you both dodging the drop.

“What does that mean?” He complains, “I am squeezing, see?” Jungkook shows his hands gripping the rifle harder.

“No, your core.”

“What even is that?”

You place your hand on his stomach and another one on his lower back. Skinship in colorguard was normal, especially in dance. You’re used to it. You’d think Jungkook would be too. After all, there’s never a point in the show where you’re not touching each other. Yet, he tenses up under your touch.

“Think of it as sucking in air and a string is pulling from your back.” You look up at him, “try it.”

Jungkook tries to follow your instructions but ends up with his back hunched over like a turtle. You laugh, now moving in front of him as you grab one of his hands from the rifle. Instinctively, you place it on your own stomach. His hand spays over your abdomen — big, warm, secure. You freeze. You shake off the feelings and take a step closer to Jungkook, not quite able to look up from your position.

“Like this,” you demonstrate the technique, “feel the difference?” You press his hand harder against you. You certainly feel it … the lightest change of pressure in his fingertips, the small movement from his thumb. No one would have noticed, but you do.

You hear him swallow and exhale a shaky breath, “uh huh.”

“Good,” you step back and let his hand fall back to his side, “reset and do it again.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Jungkook’s #1 remedy to a sore body was a hot shower.

He’d run up the water bill back at home with the amount of hot showers he’d take after practice. At school? No difference. Even better now that he didn’t have his family breathing down his neck for taking up all the water. These days, he finds himself doubling down on his showers. He definitely underestimated the level of difficulty to perform as a musician and colorguard.

It hurts. His feet, shoulders, hands … literally everything.

All worth it though, especially on those rare occasions where your eyes light up after he’d reach another milestone in those private sessions.

He’s greedy for more. A smile. A compliment. A high five. Anything. Jungkook collects them in his invisible stamp book of accomplishments. Didn’t think he’d unlock something new today — something foreign within himself.

The hot water beats down on his skin. It’s scalding, borderline painful. Even so, it doesn’t compare to how punishing his hand is wrapped around his hard, leaky length. Jungkook supports himself upright with one hand on the shower wall. He shakes. Grunts lowly. He shouldn’t feel this way for you. Shouldn’t think this way of a teammate. A section leader, at that. You’re in his head whether he likes it or not.

Damn you and the innocent stunt you pulled during practice.

Damn you and those short shorts.

Damn you and your pretty eyes.

Because he’s here thinking about how you’d feel pressed against him, shorts pulled down, eyes watery from how good he’d make you feel. Would you praise him? Lose yourself on him? Encourage him to keep going? His hand speeds up.

Then, the unthinkable happens: your name slips out.

Shame needs no welcome.

“Fucking hell,” Jungkook groans, orgasm slipping away as he abruptly lets go of his cock at the last second. He cranks the shower knob to the coldest setting. This was so wrong. You deserved better — shouldn’t be reduced to some weird fantasy.

He pushes his wet bangs away from his forehead. Shakes his head as he scolds himself, “get a grip, man.”

Hot showers were his #1 remedy for a sore body.

Cold showers became his #1 remedy for you.

Jungkook quickly finishes his shower to rid himself of those sinful thoughts. Tucked in bed by 10pm, he scrolls through his social media, praying he’ll find something worthwhile of a distraction. Just as he was going to call it quits and step out for a walk, his phone rings.

Incoming call: Chaewon.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

You never really understood football. Didn’t really bother to pay attention to it when you were in high school since your team was notorious for losing. You were only there to perform for the halftime shows. College football was different. More lively. You still didn’t get the rules of the sport, but you appreciated the school spirit. Also was nice that your band played music whenever your school scored.

Hair and makeup was done thirty minutes before the show since nobody wanted to sweat off their work during the practice run throughs. You give a quick pep talk to your section. There’s always first show jitters, but you all worked so hard. Mistakes were inevitable and will motivate you all to improve for the next performance. So will push-ups, if Director Lee catches any in the stands.

“Hey.”

You turn at the familiar voice. Jungkook has on his uniform, harness hidden underneath it so it looked like the drums were floating in front of his body. Hat with the signature school feather tucked at his side, he looks polished.

“Ready to crush our duet?”

“Of course,” you grin, “if you make a mistake, you’re doing my push-ups.” Banters come a lot easier after the confrontation you had with Jungkook awhile ago. You feel more at ease with him these days.

“Cruel. Aren’t captains supposed to sink with their ship?”

“You’re on your own ship.”

“Ouch.” He chuckles. “Hey, can you zip me up? Forgot to ask one of the guys for help before coming over here.” He turns and bends lower for you to reach.

“All done.”

“Thanks, you’re a gem.” He turns slowly just to make sure he doesn’t hit anyone with his drums. Jungkook studies your face for a brief moment, clears his throat, and smiles.

“I like your eye makeup by the way. Blue suits you.”

“Yeah? Thanks,” you flush at his words.

Most show makeup was done heavier so that the audience could see. Realistically, no one can see your face from the stands. Perhaps that’s why your parents never came to your shows. Too many band members, too hard to spot. No parent wants to waste time playing Where’s Waldo with their kid.

“Jungkook!”

Jungkook looks around for the source of voice and he waves excitedly, “Ma!”

You watch a short middle aged woman weave through the crowds. Her bangs were pinned away from her face. There’s an uncanny resemblance between her and Jungkook. It’s all in the eyes. She side steps his drums and gives him a hug with lots of pats on his back.

“I told you I was going to meet you all later after the show, Ma,” Jungkook says with a sweet smile, “how’d you even find me?”

“I always know where my son is!” She chuckles. In a sea of band kids and a filled stadium, it would be hard to locate your kid. Though how hard would it be to spot a boy with tenor drums? There were only four of them in the band. “Look at how tan you’ve gotten. Don’t forget to wear sunscreen. I know you burn easily.”

“Ma …” he grumbles. He knows it comes from a place of endearment. After all, his parents supported him all throughout high school and college by coming to his shows, even volunteering to carpool and host meals for the marching band. It’s a type of community and support he won’t take for granted.

Jungkook looks out to the crowd, “where’s dad and Junghyun?”

“You know them. They’re in line for some nachos.”

You slowly back away to let him chat with his mom. It’s not that you disliked social interactions … you just really didn’t know what to do or say.

“Oh, Ma, this is Ju-,” he recovers quickly by saying your actual name, “she’s the colorguard captain.”

“Oh! Is she my favorite one to watch, Kookie?”

“Wha-? I thought I was your favorite to watch …”

“We got cameras for a reason.”

You giggle and shake her hand. You can tell where Jungkook gets his energy from.

“Your parents must be very proud of you. Such a lovely performer.” She praises.

Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes at the mention of your parents, but you nod your head in agreement, “thank you.”

Sensing your discomfort, Jungkook jumps in, “Ma, we gotta go warm up now. Make sure you watch me. I’ve got a special part in the show.”

She pinches his cheeks, “wouldn’t miss it for the world, hon. Good luck, you two.” His mom quickly makes it through the crowd and up the stands.

“Sorry, my mom can be a bit eccentric.”

You shake your head. “She’s cute. I can see where you get your personality from.” Wait. Pause. That came out wrong and you hope Jungkook didn’t catch that either.

“You think I’m cute?” Nothing flies over his head.

“I think you need to worry more about pointing your toes during our routine.”

“Ugh, you sound just like Yoongi.”

“Wrong. I haven’t made you do push-ups. Though I probably should with the amount of times you dropped the rifle.” For that reason, you let the director know that the toss won’t be in the show … at least for this performance. It’s still too fresh and you would rather have a clean show with an easy routine.

“Cruel.”

You smile, “I’ll see you on the field.”

“Hey, Juice?”

“Hm?”

“Full out?” He says with a playful grin.

It’s a term he’s picked up from you over practice when you want him to perform at his best. This was your life motto. If you had to do something, you were going to do it full out. Do it so well that when the moment is finished, you could look back fondly and proudly at your accomplishments.

“Full out.” You mirror his smile.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

The halftime show went well. Some mistakes were made, but what’s done is done.

“Gah! I can’t believe I dropped when I was on the diva spot.” Jimin complains. The diva spot, a.k.a. the 50 yard line, was every colorguard member’s dream. For a moment, you were the center of the show. It’s one thing to be on it, it’s another if you had to do something big. And Jimin had a major toss that he missed. Nerves probably. Happens to the best, but it’s still not a good feeling for opener night.

“I hate this uniform. I’m soaked in my sweat.” Yuri says as she carefully wipes her face, avoiding her eyes.

“My feet hurt.” Another girl whines.

Your mind races, still trying to catch your breath from the show. Performing in front of an audience was different. The cheers, the lighting, the adrenaline. You do your best to soak in the moment, but all you want is a bottle of Gatorade and to get out of this uniform.

“Pain is just weakness leaving the body,” Director Lee comes from the corner. Ah, another one of his sayings he got from Pinterest.

“Nice work, guard. I saw that drop, Jimin. Tighten things up.” Director Lee comments while noting down something on his clipboard.

“Yes sir …”

“Director Lee, is there any way we can order new uniforms? It’s like a body sauna in this one.” Yuri inquires.

“Huh? Aren’t you kiddos into that bodysuit look?”

“Not when we look extra sweaty.”

“It’s not sweat, it’s glow.” Everyone groans at another one of his Pinterest quotes. Compared to the rest of the band, he’s a lot nicer with colorguard. He doesn’t know much about colorguard, but knows how hard you all work. As tough as Director Lee was in general, he’s a softie with guard … even with all the cringy dad jokes he makes.

“Juicebox, I thought the duet with Jungkook was nice. I’m expecting Jungkook to be ready for the five next show. Still think something is not clicking. Don’t know what though,” he writes down another note in his clipboard, “but I trust you’ll get it fixed.”

“Yes sir.” You don’t know what to fix if he doesn’t tell you. One of those moments where you feel like you’re trying to hit a moving target. Perhaps talking to Jungkook about it may help. He hit all his marks in the show. You’re proud of his growth. Think it’s only right you expressed that, just as you do with your members whenever they hit a milestone.

The band sets up their equipment in the stands again after the show. You look for Jungkook. He isn’t hard to spot. Not because he was tall or anything, but because of the swarm of people around him. Specifically cheerleaders. You liked your cheer team. Their work ethics mirrored closely to colorguard. What you don’t understand is the weird gnawing feeling in your stomach the moment you catch Jungkook and the rest of the girls laughing at something he said.

What’s that about?

He spots you. Smiles wider. Says something quick to the girls before he tries to walk away. Seemingly in your direction at least, but the girls don’t let him leave for whatever reason.

Like the other band members, you gather around the cooler for some refreshments.

“Damn it. Jungkook is a genius for rounding up sponsors from the cheerleaders,” Jaehyun takes a bite of his granola bar.

“You say it like they’d give you a single penny if you asked,” another member says. “He’s always been popular with the cheer team. Probably the dude with the most charisma unlike the majority of us band geeks.”

“I’ll have you know that my flirting skills—”

“Anyone who needs to talk about how great their flirting skills are, has none,” Yuri interrupts.

“You’re just a hater,” Jaehyun rolls his eyes.

“And you look like…” more insults get fired back and forth between the two.

You take the stairs up to where the guard sat during the games. There’s not much for you to do until call time. If you really wanted to, you could choreograph something, but being at the game was already enough. That’s what the cheer and dance teams were for anyway.

Yoongi groans in his descent to the seat next to yours. Says he has old man knees. Ridiculous claim for a 22 year old, but you’re sure every band member has some sort of long term injury at this rate. Yoongi juts his chin to the bottom of the stands. “Think they’re gonna date?”

“Who?” Your eyes zero on Jungkook and the cheer captain. He still hasn’t departed from the group.

“The noobs.” Yoongi puts his feet on the empty bleacher.

“Jaehyun and Yuri?” You laugh. “No way. They hate each other.”

“So did Romeo and Juliet.”

“Okay, but they died too.”

“Ugh, JB, you’re such a pessimist.” He snorts.

“No, just a realist.”

You look down to where Jungkook stands. He’s no longer focused on the surrounding conversation. Has this antsy body language like he’s in search of something … or someone? Keeps looking back and forth between whoever was talking to him and the bleachers. Specifically, in your direction.

“He likes you.”

“Jaehyun?” You avert from the obvious answer. “Not interested in noobs.”

Yoongi squints his eyes and smirks. “You’re no dummy, JB.”

“Don’t know who and what you’re talking about, Yoongs.”

“He’s not a bad kid,” Yoongi continues, “a little rough around the edges, but he tries hard. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Since when have you started playing wingman for Jungkook?”

“See, I knew you were no dummy.”

You stick your tongue out. Yoongi takes the hint and drops the topic, choosing to stare at the open football field.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he says after a beat. “Should I fail one of my classes to be a super senior?”

“I wouldn’t hate graduating with you. We’d get our captain plaques together on senior night.”

“Dad would kill me if he had to pay for another semester.”

You chuckle and lean back. Hoseok calls the band to prepare as the game starts up again. Yoongi goes back down with his section and you’re with yours. Being at the top of the stands, you’re also closer to the stadium lights where all the gnats and moths gather. Can’t help being tempted by the light. You have a lot in common with them. Feel for them, actually. Because much like them, you’re also helplessly drawn to Jungkook’s light.

You don’t understand football, but it’s a nice distraction to put out the little spark of curiosity for a certain tenor drummer.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

You’re off.

Maybe it’s cause of what Yoongi planted in your head. Maybe. Because you find yourself looking for Jungkook on the field whenever Hoseok signals the band to stop. With only four tenors in the band, he’s not hard to spot. Jungkook was always the last one to fall out of attention after Yoongi taps on his snare. You also find yourself fixated on his bare back and how it flexes when he leans to tilt his drums up. You tell yourself you’re only looking because of what his mother said at the recent football game. He burns easily — shoulders look a little raw and the harness rubbing against it doesn’t make it any better.

Jungkook is just as equally to blame for these weird times. He texts you every day and sends you corny marching band memes. Honestly? They weren’t that funny, but you chuckle nonetheless when you see Jungkook follow up with a ‘LOLOLOLOL us.’ Serves to only confirm he’s also thinking about you.

You spend most of your days in practice with him — you’re bound to think of him outside of it. Especially when you’re at the local drugstore to get some tampons and you come across a bottle of aloe vera. All you have to do is hand it to him. And yet, the bottle remains with you for the next two weeks, burning a hole at the bottom of your backpack.

Granted, you had plenty of chances to give it to him since you’re over at his dorm every Sunday to study. Don’t know when this routine started, but you’d have to thank your spotty wifi for that. It doesn’t take much to convince you either. Good air conditioning, decent wifi, clean space … and Jungkook. Speaking of which, he’s on the floor drumming on his pad. Your brain tricks you to think of it as white noise at this point — loud and comforting. Not sure if you could fall asleep to it, but probably for the better during these study sessions.

His drumming comes to an abrupt stop, “Juice?”

“Hm?” You don’t turn around, too fixated on annotating your lecture notes.

“Do you always bruise around your legs?”

It’s not uncommon for colorguard members to bruise, given that accidents occurred on a daily basis. Whether you miscalculate a toss or there’s overuse of certain body parts, injuries were inevitable. The bruises on your knees are an unfortunate byproduct of all the floor routines you’ve endured. They’re your battle scars. Pretty like the galaxy. That’s one way to view them outside of the pain.

You turn around. Big mistake.

Jungkook looks up at you with starry eyes. It doesn’t help that his five-inch inseam shorts have lifted in his seated position. You’ve always had a weird obsession with tanlines and the ones on Jungkook’s thighs blend perfectly together.

His eyes move from your face and down to your exposed legs. He points at one of the bruises on your shin, “that’s a new one.”

“Very observant of you.” You reply.

He goes red. As if he got caught red-handed doing something forbidden. You quickly follow up with a lighthearted chuckle to diffuse the awkwardness. “But yes, I do bruise easily. Takes a while for it to heal too,” you cross your legs.

“That sucks … guess we all have a weakness, yeah? You with bruising and me with burning.” He chuckles, “B&B.”

“The harness doesn’t help with the sunburn, huh?”

Jungkook smiles, “very observant of you.”

You roll your eyes, think this would be a good time to give him the aloe vera, so you dig through your bag and toss him the bottle. Jungkook catches it with ease and fumbles around his nightstand and tosses you an unopened box. “Trade you.”

It’s the same ointment you brought him a while ago for his hand. You already have some at home, but it felt nice knowing he also thought of you too.

He sits on his bed, grabs his shirt from the back of his collar, and tugs it off his body. Most people shy away from nudity, but band kids are a different breed. You’ve seen people practice in nothing but their undergarments in the past. You should be used to this — to Jungkook’s body. Keyword: should.

You swallow at the sight of his broad back, lean waist, and defined biceps. You should avert your eyes. Again, keyword: should.

Your eyes follow his hands as they reach around his shoulders to smear the liquid on his skin.

“You missed a spot.”

“Huh,” he turns to his floor-length mirror to see and attempts to reach back around. Fails again.

“Want me to help?” The wheels on Jungkook’s desk chair squeak as you roll closer.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” He hands you the bottle and turns around. You squeeze the bottle and watch the dime sized liquid dribble on his back. He shudders and exhales softly.

You wonder if the deep shade of red on the tip of his ears was just another place he burned easily. Jungkook’s skin feels hot at the touch. Find the freckles and moles on his back endearing. Find it more endearing that he could never see them like you do. Much like his starry eyes, his back mirrors the constellations in the sky, begging to be traced and mapped by your fingers. By you.

“There, all done.” You close the cap and set the bottle on the nightstand.

He clears his throat, “want me to help?” Jungkook points at the ointment in your lap.

Now it’s your turn to feel shy. “I can do it myself.”

He tilts his head, “I know you can.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

You’re surprised at yourself — surprised you agreed for his help, surprised you’re seated on Jungkook’s bed with your foot perched on one of his thighs. You position your hands behind to support you upright.

“This okay?” Jungkook asks as he starts on the smaller bruises around your ankle. You’re not sure if he means this entire ordeal or the pressure he’s kneading into your skin. Regardless, you nod and bite the inside of your cheeks. You never realized how sensitive you were — never realized how much the bruises ached outside of your own touches. It’s been a long time since anyone has tended to your wounds, so this was different. A good different.

“You can go a little harder. Those are old.”

He does as he’s told. Always good, ever so obedient.

Jungkook eventually makes it up to your knees. You’ve let out a few shaky breaths in the time he’s worked the ointment into your skin, all while noticing the way his mouth parts at your reactions.

He eyes the last bruise between your thighs, and back up to your eyes, “there, all done.”

Something shifts in you.

“But you missed one.” You tilt your head, feigning ignorance just to see what he would do. He always does as he’s told, but you sense some hesitancy. Not because he’s uncomfortable, but because he’s unsure what will happen next if he touches you beyond what’s appropriate.

“Juice …”

“What?” You stare at him through hooded eyes, “I thought you wanted to help me.”

“And if I don’t?” He leans in, watches if you’d move away. You don’t, so he takes the chance to rest your leg down on his lap.

“Push-ups.” You say without another thought, also leaning in.

He laughs through his nose, “might do something that’ll warrant that anyways.”

“Like what?” You ask, “show me.” You have an idea of what will happen next. At least, you hope. There’s no doubt something changed between you two since that talk. Sure, you feel more comfortable around him, but lately? You’ve also been feeling other things. As much as you’d like to blame Yoongi, you know it’s your own attraction for Jungkook.

“Yeah?” His face is centimeters from yours.

“Yeah,” you nod, nose grazing his.

He kisses you.

Nothing more than a small peck to test the waters, but he waits a millisecond, which earns himself a soft whine from you as confirmation to continue. Your hand cups his jaw and pulls him in.

“Again,” you breathe, “do it again.”

It’s the same order you’d give to anyone making a mistake in colorguard, but this was no mistake. Call it a Pavlov response or whatever; Jungkook always does as he’s told. Tries his best to make it good for you — doesn’t take much. He angles his head a little, does this pouty thing with his lips that has you feeling warm all over. You lick at his lips. It’s tentative, careful, and slow — gets him breathing heavier.

“Fuck,” he muffles a small groan.

Jungkook parts his mouth and the rest is history. Every lick, every nibble, every breathy moan felt experimental and deliberate all at once. Thumb tracing your cheek, the pressure of his fingertips on your hips has you keening. Time is an illusion because you’d spend the entire afternoon kissing Jungkook if you could. He pulls away first, lips pink and swollen with a sheen of saliva you’re unsure who it belonged to.

He swallows, “well?”

“Well, what?” You say, slightly out of breath.

“Do I still need to do push-ups?”

You snort. He beams. You do spend the rest of the afternoon kissing Jeon Jungkook.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

“I’ve got to say, Juicebox,” Namjoon pauses to chug the rest of his water, “I don’t think I could’ve pulled off what Jungkook is doing with you.”

You almost spit out your water. “H-huh?”

Did Namjoon know something happened between you and Jungkook?

“The duet. You guys are killing it.”

“Oh. Yeah,” you relax, “extra practice helps.”

Practice does help. And so do the kisses in between breaks that Jungkook swears by makes him improve. You don’t require much persuading to fall into his requests. Enjoy it too much to be restrictive of his affections. As a result, things get a little … difficult during ensemble practices because all Jungkook wants to do is pull you away to kiss you silly. Deprivation of each other works out in your favor because Director Lee no longer mentions how you both need ‘more chemistry.’

“Nice. Hoping for a solid show for all of us by the end of the month. My high school is going to be there.” The marching band was scheduled to perform at the end of a high school circuit competition. Director Lee says it’s a good way to get the school’s name out for prospects thinking about which university to attend.

“Also, is Jungkook okay? He keeps looking over here.” Namjoon nods his head from the side.

You don’t even have to look. Jungkook’s been doing this every practice. Like a touch starved puppy waiting for their owner to come home. As endearing it is, you’re worried. If Namjoon noticed, eventually the other band members would too.

“Think he’s just zoning out.” You lie.

“True. Eyes are giving pug.” Namjoon stands up and pulls the neck strap over his head, “alright, last run through for the day.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

“You need to stop staring so much during practice,” you say in between kisses. Jungkook was over at your place under the guise to troubleshoot your shitty Internet connection. Quite confident it wasn’t your internet tier, but that it was just an old router. Ten minutes into inspecting your router, you end up pinned underneath Jungkook on your couch.

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“Namjoon said you looked like a pug.”

“Pugs are cute.”

“They are,” you concede.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Just-oh!” You look down at the source pressed at your heat. Jungkook is almost always hard during and after kissing, that much you know. Whether it’s from a simple peck or minutes of making out, he’s sporting a boner. Doesn’t take much to rile him up. Though, he’s never done anything further. Just tells you:

“Ignore that,” he trails kisses down your jaw and neck, “so what’s the problem?”

“Don’t want people assuming.”

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses and sits up on his heels, “right, sorry.”

You don’t mean to hurt his feelings. It doesn’t help that you’re a private person and things feel extremely preliminary with Jungkook at the moment. You like him, but for all you know, he could just be in it for a fun time. If this was going to die out, you rather have the least people know about it. It’s not like you’re actively wishing for an inevitable end.

Realistically, it doesn’t hurt to prepare for hurt.

Mood completely shifted, Jungkook sits upright and looks around your apartment. It’s neat, feels homey with how you decorated it. Most of your furniture was secondhand or thrifted, but you took good care of it. He eyes the shelf containing your awards, dried flowers, and pictures with all the different groups and friends you’ve marched with. You’re more sentimental than you appear to be. Marching with these groups was no simple feat, but you looked back fondly at all the memories created. You know you’ll do the same for your university years too.

“Wish I could’ve done drum corps,” Jungkook sighs. If he was phased by whatever transpired moments ago, he doesn’t show it.

“Did you try out other groups?” You sit up, knees brought close to your chest.

“Nah, I don’t think I’m good enough.”

Now, you initially thought there wasn’t anything remarkable about Jungkook’s drumming skills. But let’s be real … you didn’t read music nor play an instrument, so what did you know about drumming? What you do know is that Jungkook tried hard. He was more than capable of passing auditions and marching in drum corps. You’re sure of it.

“You won’t know until you try.”

“Maybe,” he dismisses the thought with a nod. “Would’ve been nice to join two years ago and claim I was in the season where they had tenors drum upside down.”

“Yeah, I remember that,” you smile, “was pretty cool.”

“You’re the cool one for doing drum corps,” he praises, “did you do a lot of fundraising to pay for membership dues?”

You shake your head, “no, my parents did.”

“Nice of them to support you.”

“Yeah, I guess?” You shrug, not sure how to reply, “they … never really came to my shows.”

Jungkook frowns, “why not?”

“Work? I don’t know … they just never made the time. I stopped asking them to come after a while, so I guess it’s my fault they don’t know my schedule.”

His eyes soften. You never realized how natural Jungkook was with affection and comfort. So natural in how he tugs at your wrist, lays you down with him on the couch, and cradles your cheek.

“The way you perform … it’s an absolute privilege to watch you. They’re missing out.” He tells you with so much conviction, “Ma would argue you’re the only one worth watching.” He jokes.

“She’s cute.”

“A menace,” he corrects with a grin, “cause she should pay more attention to her son. But I get it, I’d watch you too.” Jungkook has a way of making you feel special. Like you mattered. Supported. Something you hoped you’d see from your parents in the past, but come to terms you’ll never receive. Now, it’s all coming in the form of Jungkook. And you don’t know what to do with all these emotions except feel guilty and apologetic for what took place moments ago.

“I’m sorry about what I said about not wanting others to assume. It’s just …”

“You don’t have to apologize, Juice. I understand where you’re coming from.”

Does he? It’s like him to be nice about it. You wouldn’t put it past Jungkook, but his words feel … withdrawn? Rehearsed? You’re unsure if you want to open this can of worms with him, let alone if he wanted to talk about it. Instead, you press a soft kiss on his lips, “thank you.”

He groans and pulls you into a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Are you tryna make me hard?”

“You’re so easy,” you laugh.

“You’re telling me you don’t get turned on when we kiss?” He looks at you incredulously.

You shake your head — a lie. “Nope, all you.” You say as one of your legs hook over his hip.

“I call bluff.” He kisses you, slow, tongue licking the seam of your lips. You lightly suck on his tongue and bite the bottom of his lips, giggling as he moans.

“Wanna check?” Feeling bold, your hand wraps around his wrist and leads it to your midsection, stopping just slightly above your shorts.

“Want me to?” He looks at you through hooded lids.

“Yeah, I do,” you nod, “prove me wrong.” You let out a tiny gasp as his hand slips past your shorts.

“Jungkook,” you whimper as his middle finger slips between your folds. The feeling of someone else’s hand other than your own has you feeling hot all over. Jungkook lets out a little wrecked noise before diving back to your lips for a messy kiss. His hand moves slowly, circling your clit, working out some of the prettiest moans.

“Liar,” he chuckles against your lips. His hand goes lower, fingers collecting your slick at your entrance before smearing it all over your clit.

Your jaw goes slack when his fingers move faster. “N-no, I’m not.”

You feel the vibrations on your lips as he hums. “Think I need to see. Will you let me?”

Such a stupid bit you guys have going on, but you both play it so well. Your shorts and panties are tossed somewhere in your living room, bare ass hanging halfway off the couch. Jungkook kneels on the carpet floor, in an absolute trance. Whatever he’s fantasized in the last month will never compare. Simply spreads and pushes your legs further apart.

“Pretty,” he murmurs to himself. Not sure if he’s talking about you or your pussy; regardless, you smile at the compliment.

“Done checking?” Your eyes move from his down to your wet pussy.

“Yeah. I guess I was wrong.” One of his hands moves to cup the side of your ass, parts your folds more. His thumb strokes up and down your slit, arousal apparent from your wetness.

“Told you.” You shut your eyes when you feel his thumb apply more pressure to your clit.

“So dry,” Jungkook watches you clench around nothing. “Think I gotta help you.” He lowers his head, cheeks hollow a little before he dribbles a glob of spit onto your bare cunt. You arch your back at the sensation of it trailing down your pussy. Jungkook’s face is centimeters away from your pussy, warm breath fanning over. He waits for your permission, places a delicate kiss on the side of your thigh, eyes never leaving yours. Your hand comes underneath your thigh to hold his hand during this intimate act.

“Yeah, think so too. Need you to help me.”

Jungkook eats pussy like how he makes out. Hot. Pouty. Whimpery. It does something to your heart when he interlocks his hand with yours, thumb caressing your hand. Soft and soothing. So different from how he has his lips wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking ruthlessly. You let out a broken sob when he suddenly pries your legs further apart before fucking his tongue in you. He pauses in between to spit, uncaring of where it lands because he knows it’ll eventually mix with the rest of your slick.

“Oh my god!” You shut your eyes, too overcome from the pleasure.

“Is that good, baby?” Baby. You like that. You like it more knowing he asked that question to check in on you as if your reactions weren't a giveaway. Couldn’t possibly formulate a response in the time he goes back to your clit, head moving side to side.

The pleasure builds and builds until you gasp. Body curling in and thighs locking Jungkook’s head in place, you cum.

White splotches fill the back of your lids. Jungkook was absolutely entranced by your orgasm. He groans, eats you out sloppily just cause. You can only lay there and take everything he’s giving you, hand clutching his tighter when it gets too much. Jungkook finally lifts himself off you when your whimpers die down, marveling at your glistening sex. He was a sight to see: disheveled hair, red nose, and wet chin.

“Wanna watch you cum again. Please?” His fingers circle your entrance.

You sigh prettily. “Come here.”

He obliges. Leans over your body with one of his hands still between your legs. You waste no time in pulling him down to a heated kiss, loving the taste of you on his tongue. The squelching noises intensify as you buck your hips into his hand. Drives you crazy that Jungkook hasn’t put his fingers in yet.

You pull away, “hear that?” You circle your hips. “You did that. Made me so wet — made me feel so good.”

“God, you’re so hot,” he moans, two fingers finally entering your pussy. He’s slow at first, mindful of your previous orgasm. Builds some speed once you pant into his mouth for more, fingers curling and letting the rise and drop of your hips do the work.

“You’re creaming.” Like a new discovery only he could lay claim on. Like he didn’t know he could get you like this. Because truthfully, only he has ever gotten you like this. He stares at the mess between your legs, white coating his digits and seeping down your ass the more he thrusts.

You can only whine and arch your back against the couch. That familiar feeling blooms in the pits of your stomach again.

“I’m gonna—”

He nods, keeps the same speed and watches you with blown out pupils. Doesn’t know where to focus. Decides at the last moment that it should be your face and feels no regret when you cum a second time on his fingers.

“You’re so pretty.” He kisses you through your orgasm, shaking his head when you trail your hand down to his crotch.

“Oh, you don’t want …?”

“Trust me, I’m more than good.” He pulls you up and giggles at your jello-state legs.

You’re a little confused why he didn’t want you to return the favor, but decided it was best to brush it off. He helps locate your clothing and guides you into your bathroom to clean up. You back against the locked door, hands coming up to touch your face. Hot. Look over to the mirror and exhale at the sight. The afterglow looks good on you. There’s a drop to your shoulders and light in your irises. You look enamored. It’s all too soon to say, especially after multiple kisses and this one intimate moment … though, your chest swells with hope. Hope for more with Jungkook.

In the time you spent freshening up, Jungkook pulled out a new router from his backpack he bought in secret earlier that day. Thirty minutes later, your connection and speed was infinitely better.

“Let me pay you back for the router,” you say as Jungkook puts on his shoes at the doorway. Jungkook stands up and tugs on the strap of his backpack.

“Nah. Just write off the push-ups for the rest of the season whenever I drop the toss,” he smiles cheekily.

“You wouldn’t have to do push-ups if you caught.” You scowl, “thank you again for the router. Saves me the trips to campus.” But it also meant you won’t have an excuse to study at Jungkook’s anymore.

Jungkook surprises you with a quick kiss on your cheek.“You’re always welcomed over whenever you want. G’night, Cap.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Envy has a weird way of working.

You remember it best with your parents choosing to go to your sibling’s sports games or when everyone in colorguard got to their splits way before you did. Just like how you’re feeling now, seeing Jungkook smile and joke with one of the cheerleaders after practice. It’s uncharacteristic of you to feel this way. You’ve never cared this much when you’ve witnessed past partners conversing with other people.

You encouraged it. Felt secure.

This was different.

“Yo, that’s the girl that Jungkook’s been talking to? Chaewon?” Jaehyun says in passing to another tenor player.

“I think so. Why?”

You don’t listen to the rest of the conversation. Rushing out the band room, your mind jumps back to all the times he’s stopped moving forward beyond making you feel good. Was it because he was already seeing someone else? It could only make sense if he wanted to be safe about it. Good that he’s thoughtful for all parties involved. Bad because you thought he liked you enough to have it only be you.

You were right. It doesn’t hurt to prepare for hurt.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Jungkook [5:04 p.m.]: hey! u left super early today. did u get home safe? Jungkook [8:31 p.m.]: ?? juice, u ok? You [10:15 p.m.]: Yes, I’m home.

1 Missed call from Jungkook

You [10:16 p.m.]: Sorry, studying atm. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.

This back and forth goes on for the rest of the week. Jungkook tries to talk to you after practice, but you always seem to slip away at the last moment. The one-on-one practices have stopped because the show was as clean as it could get and all Jungkook needed to work on was catching. He could do that on his own. You gave him all the tools he needed to succeed.

You’d like to think that whatever you shared with Jungkook was just a moment of indulgence. Helped you nurse your pride and feelings. If you kept telling yourself that things were okay and how it should be, you’ll eventually believe it. Much like how you’ve accepted that you’ll never see your parents at one of your shows, you'll realize these feelings for Jungkook were also fleeting. Because it starts to look that way once Jungkook starts to back off trying to talk to you.

You had other things to focus on. Cleaning up your section, schoolwork, and raising enough donations for the Rehearsathon. Of course you fall short of the goal. It’s not a big deal, but you hate to be the person who didn’t look like they tried at all, especially coming from a leadership role.

Regardless, you come into Rehearsathon ready for the brutal twelve hours. Practice lasted three hours at max, twelve was overkill. By the end of it all, you were exhausted. Sore and ready to go home for a much needed hot shower.

“Nice work, band. With the money raised, I think it’s safe to say we’ll be getting new uniforms by the end of the month. Just in time for the exhibition show.” Director Lee continues his recap, “also, shout out to our top fundraisers: Toad, Jungkook, and Juicebox.”

Huh? You barely raised a little over 50 bucks … 20 of which came from yourself cause you felt awful showing up with just 30. Did everyone else just do poorly?

Hoseok comes to you after everyone gets dismissed to pat you on the back. “Very impressive to get the cheer team to donate that much.” Cheer team? You’re lost. You didn’t know anyone on that team, let alone solicited them to donate. The only person you knew that had connections with the cheer team was none other than Jungkook. But … why would their sponsorship be under you?

It didn’t make sense.

“Jungkook.” You jog up to him.

“Sup?” He’s never greeted you like this before, but it’s probably deserved since you’ve been avoiding him. Doesn’t sting any less.

“My sponsors. You did that, didn’t you?”

He nods. “Yeah, I did.”

You shake your head, “you didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to,” he shrugs.

You try to find the right words to say, but come short. You settle for a small ‘thank you.’ It’s all you can say before you turn the opposite direction.

He doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t question why you haven’t been returning his calls or text messages. Your silence was an answer in itself.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Jungkook’s tosses and catches were inconsistent. On his good days, he’s able to stick his catch. Mostly during rehearsal. But come the halftime shows? He’s dropping. You can tell he’s frustrated. No one likes feeling like they dragged down the quality of a show. Some liked to be left alone to process their mistakes; you assumed Jungkook was the type to need extra comfort. You work up the courage to go to him, but see that Jimin has beaten you. Probably for the better.

Jimin was great when it came to comforting others. In Jungkook’s case, it looked like Jimin was putting in the works. Has him miming a toss and doing a silly dance to show Jungkook how he tries to recover under a bad toss. Jungkook cracks a smile. Jimin transitions to his final move: back hug. You’ve also received those from Jimin before. It’s nice — not your preference after a rough show, but you appreciate the sentiment. Looks like Jungkook does too. Appears infinitely lighter.

The same cheerleader you saw a couple weeks ago, Chaewon, comes up to Jungkook too. Gives him a high five and a hug. And that was your cue to leave. You feel a little pathetic. All this because you don’t know what to do with your feelings for a boy.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Exhibition day.

Instruments loaded in the trailer, everyone was ready to hit the road. Whenever there was a far off site performance, Lee strung up his contacts to reserve fancy buses for the band. Yoongi theorizes it’s all for show to the prospective graduating high school seniors. He’s not complaining though. Far better to ride on some fancy buses than to coordinate carpool for over 200 band kids.

“Is your high school going to be there, Juicebox?” Yuri stuffs her equipment underneath the bus compartment.

“No,” you shake your head, “they’re in another circuit.”

“Lucky, my school is going to be there. So I need to impress my underclassmen.” She holds her hands into a fist. You chuckle, pull the straps of your backpack higher on your shoulder as you step onto the bus.

Colorguard preferred taking the back of the bus only cause it feels like you can do your hair and makeup in peace. Funnily enough, drumline also preferred the back too. Gives them space from the rest of the band when they drum together on the bus. Lucky for you, one of your girls secured the backseats. You volunteer to sit alone since there was an odd number of members in your section. If the drumline came to the back, you had a feeling Yoongi might swoop in to sit with you. He preferred a quieter seat partner despite having to lead some of the drumming sessions on the bus.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

There’s no need to look up. Even if you haven’t spoken to him in a couple weeks, you’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Go ahead.” Who were you to stop him?

Jungkook takes his seat, stuffs his bag underneath the seat in front of him, and places his drumsticks on his lap. He smells like coconut and shea butter — the same scent as the sunscreen you gifted him a while back. It’s sweet and warm — such a huge contrast to how you and Jungkook act towards each other now. Bitter and cold.

“Alright,” Director Lee announces from the bus intercom. “About a 45 minute drive to the location. No bathroom breaks. If you gotta go, hold it or piss in a cup.” A bunch of band kids grimace and fake a retch from the comment.

All you could think about is how you’ll be next to Jungkook for the next 45 minutes. The drummers get their rounds of drumming in, choosing to drum on the seats in front of them. You stare out the window, wishing for time to pass by quicker. His elbow brushes yours and time ceases to continue. Something lodges in your chest from the brief contact. You chastise your heart — so weak, so dumb, so fragile. Just because of a boy.

As Director Lee says, you’ve got to tighten up.

The drumming continues for another 20 minutes. Your section chatters behind you and Jungkook is turned to his own. Sometimes in a room full of people, or in this case … a bus, you still manage to find yourself feeling left out. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself.

Eventually, the bus arrives at a lot filled with other school buses.

“You guys have 15 minutes to unload and meet at the practice field for warm up.” Director Lee announces.

Row after row, people file out of the bus. When it was Jungkook’s turn to get up, he stays seated. He motions the folks behind him to go first, bending down to his backpack to get something. Everyone was now outside the bus … minus you and Jungkook.

He sighs. “How long are we going to keep doing this?” Jungkook leans back on his seat,

“Doing what?”

“Pretend like what we had didn’t happen.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stand up, one of your hands land on the seat in front to support yourself as you wait for Jungkook to move.

“Come on, Juice,” he pleads, “this is ridiculous.”

“I’m glad you agree,” your knee pushes at his leg to get to the aisle.

“Was it something I did?” Jungkook’s voice softens, “I would never do something you weren’t okay with …”

“Jungkook.” You look at the front of the bus. Thankfully, no one was there, “I was okay with everything we did, well—no, I mean,” you shift uncomfortably as you try to find the right words. He cocks his head to the side with furrowed brows.

You feel your resolve waver. There hasn’t been a second in the day where you don’t think about him. Week after week, you jump between feeling sad, betrayed, and embarrassed. He’d even pop up in your dreams to remind you that even when you weren’t awake, he’s still very much present in your subconscious. Perhaps talking to the source of your problems could help.

“We can talk about it after the show. There’s not enough time.” You were being honest. Know that everyone is on crunch time now that you’ve all reached the performance site.

“Okay.” He’d have no other choice but to accept. He gets up and moves to the side. You push away that bitter feeling in your chest. It’s show day. Jungkook eventually emerges out the bus a couple minutes after you do.

“You okay, JB?” Yoongi hauls his drum from the trailer and moves out of the way for the other members to get their instruments.

“Yeah,” you lie, “just pre-show nerves.”

Yoongi doesn’t buy it. Realized you and Jungkook were the last ones to get off the bus. Felt the shift between the two of you these couple of weeks. He also notices how Jungkook looks over at you. Something must’ve happened, but he’s not going to push for answers right before a show.

“Kids these days …” he murmurs to himself.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

High school marching band competitions were overstimulating. Overfilled bathroom stalls, different music playing, and the scent of kettle corn … makes you nostalgic. The rush of being on a field again. Other good, if not better, colorguard you’d meet from all over the country. The award ceremony. The comradery. Maybe you have one more season left in you to do drum corps in the summer.

For now, you’re lined up at the front of the main field. Everyone is all warmed up and ready to perform.

Showtime. Director Lee takes over the stadium microphone to introduce the marching band and Hoseok signals everyone to march down the field into position. The show goes smoothly. During the performance, the audience erupts with cheers at every musical feature and toss. Jungkook catches. The band was an absolute hit.

“Oh my god, we rocked out there!” Jimin drops the handful of equipment he picked up on the field. Everyone gives each other high fives and pats on the back.

“I second that,” Director Lee comes around with his megaphone. “Nice work, band. We have an hour to reload. Do as you like till it’s call time.”

Equipment and instruments loaded up, you and another guard member walk to the concession stands for some kettle corn. While waiting in line, she gets pulled away by some old classmates from high school. Honestly, you didn’t even want kettle corn, but you weren’t ready to face Jungkook just yet. In the midst of your thoughts, someone calls your name. You freeze.

“I thought I recognized you from the stands. Long time no see.”

A voice and face you long to forget: Wooyoung. Your high school ex.

You step back, unsure how to avoid this interaction. He smiles. To any other person, it’d come off as friendly. To you? Slimy. Icky. You feel more cornered when he opens his arms for a hug. When you don’t lean into it, he pulls you in for one.

“You were great out there. Improved a lot since your freshman year.” He places his hand on your shoulder.

“Thanks,” you reply. Your gaze locked on the object in front of you. A badge that read: YBHS Asst. Band Director.

He notices your stare. “Yeah, I never really left the marching band scene post college. Just kept calling my name.” You don’t like the way he scans your body. The corners of his lips fight to stay neutral. Part of you feels sad for your younger self — didn’t know better than to mistake his lust for interest and adoration.

“Say, if you’re free after the competition, we should get some drinks together and catch up. The school I’m teaching is looking for a dance tech—”

“No, I’m not looking to teach.” You immediately decline. Getting paid to do what you loved sounded tempting, but why subject yourself to torture being employed by the same man that fucked you over? “Thanks for the offer, but I need to go back with the band.” You step back.

Ignoring your decline, Wooyoung tries again. “We should catch up though. I don’t mind taking you back if you’re worried about a ride home.”

“No thank y-”

“Juice.” You’ve never been more relieved to hear someone call you by that nickname.

Jungkook stands beside you. Saw you looking uncomfortable from afar and it was instinctive to come over despite whatever was going on between you two. By no means was he a confrontational or violent person, but he’s protective of those he cares about. And he cares deeply about you. No doubt about that.

“Lee said he needed us back at the bus.” There’s plenty of time left, but you’re thankful for an opening to leave.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta go.”

“Aw, can’t spare a couple more minutes for an old friend?” Be it his ego or his inability to read the room, Wooyoung doesn’t back down. This doesn’t surprise you. What surprised you was Jungkook’s hand wrapped around yours. Possessive. Alert.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” Jungkook says.

“Oh? Boyfriend?” Wooyoung eyes your interlocked hands.

“Uh-”

“Yep,” the lie rolls off his tongue effortlessly. You nearly believe it too, “and you are …?”

“Wooyoung. I teach at one of the high schools in this circuit,” he chuckles, “I’m assuming you both march at the same university?”

“We do.” Jungkook answers on your behalf again.

“Cute. Well, I won’t keep you two,” Wooyoung turns to you. “It was nice seeing you again. Hit me up on Facebook if you’re interested in the tech position or if you just want to catch up.”

Before you know it, you and Jungkook are headed back to the direction of the bus. He's still holding your hand, weaving both of you through the crowds.

“Jungkook,” you say, nearly tripping over your steps to meet his long strides. He lets go of your hand and faces you.

“Was that your ex?”

Your silence confirms the answer.

“Why’d you let him walk all over you like that?”

“I was fine.”

“You were clearly uncomfortable. Had I not stepped in-”

“I didn’t ask for your help, Jungkook.”

“You didn’t,” he steps back, “and I know that. I just … I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I care about you ... we’re friends.”

But friends don’t look at each other like the way Jungkook does with you. A friend’s touch doesn’t make you yearn for more. It doesn’t hurt when they call you a friend.

“We’re not friends.” Guilt seeps through you the moment those words leave your lips. Jungkook runs his hand down his face and exhales a small humorless laugh. It comes out mocking with a hint of bitterness.

“But Wooyoung is?”

That hits a sore spot. He realizes his mistake when your face falls. “Juice,” his voice softens, “I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Just like how you’re friends with Chaewon?”

He pauses. Confusion plastered on his face. Your shoulder bumps into his arm as you walk past him and towards the bus. It takes less than a second for him to catch up to you. Calls your name. Gets ignored.

“What’s that supposed to mean? What does Chaewon have to do with any of this?” With some band members lining up to board the buses, Jungkook’s voice was loud enough to catch their attention. The last thing you want is people speculating.

“Can we do this another time?” You say through gritted teeth.

Another time? He’s been waiting to talk to you, but you keep blowing him off. He doesn’t know when he’ll be granted this opportunity again, let alone whether you’ll keep your words. But you look uncomfortable and as much as he’d like to air out his grievances, he holds himself back from making a bigger scene.

He sighs in resolve and lets you queue in line for the bus. In the bus, you expected Jungkook to sit right next to you. Gets surprised when Yoongi plops down next to you. You scan the area and realize Jungkook is a couple rows in front. He doesn’t look back at you. Doesn’t come back for his belongings underneath the seat.

“Whatever is going on between you and Jungkook needs to be fixed. You’re better than this.” He sighs.

Yoongi was never one to lecture you. Not because he doesn’t feel like he can’t, but because you’ve always had your shit together. Haven’t seen you act like this before. So … juvenile, immature, and unreasonable. Perhaps he was wrong to think that things would work between you and Jungkook. The bus ride back to the campus was quiet. Going home always felt like a shorter ride in comparison to going to the performance site. Wished it took longer.

The bus comes to a full stop at the front of the school and everyone immediately gets out row by row. Yoongi gets up once it’s your row’s turn. “Wait, Yoongi,” you point at Jungkook’s bag at the bottom of the seat.

“You can give it to him, JB.” It’s not a demand, merely a matter of fact. You don’t argue back. Percussion is typically last to unload all their instruments back into the band room, so you’re stuck waiting for Jungkook till he’s done.

One by one, your colorguard members leave to go home, bidding you farewell. They don’t question why you’re staying behind, just assume that you have some business you have to see through with the director or other section leaders. It’s late and they just want to be in bed. So do you. But you wait, because it’s what you should do. You owe this to Jungkook at the very least.

Thirty minutes go by and Jungkook finally emerges from the band room. He smiles and waves goodbye to his section. When he sees you with his bag, his expression morphs into something close to disbelief. Walks up to you quickly and takes it out of your hand.

“Could’ve told Yoongi to give it to me,” he frowns.

“Trust me, I tried,” you sigh, “but I promised we would talk.”

His lips presses into a thin line. It’s late, but if the talk doesn’t happen now, he doesn’t know when it will.

“Did you want to talk at the dorms?” He asks.

You internally debate whether it was a good idea to be in an enclosed area with Jungkook. Sure, it offered some privacy, but you felt more exposed. More vulnerable. Limits your likelihood of running away. Doesn’t take you long to make a decision, opting to talk at his dorm after a cold breeze passes through. It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been there. You wonder if anything has changed. Yet, you’re greeted by the same blue bedsheets, detergent, and all too clean of a desk space. Nothing’s changed, except for the two people in there.

Jungkook sits on the floor and you follow. You clear your throat, unable to make eye contact with Jungkook now that you’re in front of him. No more avoiding the inevitable.

“What’s been going on?” He asks carefully. “Talk to me, please?”

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure of where to start.

“Was it something I did?” He asks again.

Another moment of silence ensues. “Juice-”

“We shouldn’t have done what we did.” You’re sure this was the right thing to say, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

“What do you mean?” His voice comes out small.

“I shouldn’t have entertained any of that. It wasn’t right.” That really drove it home. Nail on the coffin. Stings more when you look up and see the hurt plastered on Jungkook’s face.

Yoongi told you to fix things, but it seems impossible when you’re only capable of making things worse. Especially with how he closes his eyes and looks away. You’ve prepped your heart for this moment. Though, this is Jungkook. The boy who willingly volunteered to step into a position no one else would, the boy who’s been vying for your attention and got it, the boy with a smile so warm that you think you’d have trouble forgetting even across multiple universes.

That’s what scares you. Whatever he says next will hurt.

“Do you regret it?” Jungkook asks with downcast eyes. You rest your face into your palm. It’s a yes or no question deserving of a yes and no answer. For that, you couldn’t answer right away.

“I didn’t. Not once.” He answers truthfully, “but if you regret it, I really am sorry.” Jungkook looks at you with those round, apologetic eyes.

You almost cave. Almost.

“I just … thought we had something special. I was wrong to assume.” He says.

You did have something special with Jungkook. He wasn’t wrong.

Jungkook continues, “I hope we can remain friends, but I get it if you don’t want to.”

Friends. This irked you.

“Is that what you say to people you’ve slept with?”

“What?” He retracts his head back in confusion. “Where’s this coming from?”

There’s no going back now.

“Chaewon.” You straighten up from your seated position, “there’s also something special between you two, right?”

You sound bitter. You hate it. Hate how he looks … so exposed. So incriminating.

Jungkook quickly shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t let me touch you. Was it because you were still sleeping with her?”

“No! I—”

“—It’s fine if you were. We weren’t anything,” wrong, he was something to you, still is, “but—”

“It’s not like that,” he interrupts, but you press on, fully on autopilot now.

“—I’m not someone’s backup, I don’t do casual. The least you could’ve done was tell me. If you had any respe—”

The words die on your tongue when Jungkook says your name. Your actual name. You don’t realize how heavy you’re breathing. And Jungkook? Upset is an understatement.

“I did have something with Chaewon,” he begins.

You scoff.

“In our first-year. Things ended because … well, I caught feelings,” he admits with a hint of shame, “I don’t do casual either. I just didn’t realize she did.”

Oh.

“But you’re still …?”

He shakes his head no. “We’re not like that anymore, I swear.”

“Doesn’t explain why you wouldn’t let me touch you,” you murmur, head turned away in embarrassment.

Jungkook frowns. “It’s not that I don’t want you to. Intimacy just kinda fucks with my head and heart … after what happened with Chaewon, I just …” His voice trails, “I didn’t want to rush and mess things up with someone I care about. Seems like it still happened anyway.” Jungkook scoots closer, knees now touching yours. “Is that what this is about?”

Jungkook cocks his head to meet your eyes, but you keep your head turned away. “Hey, come on. Look at me.”

And when you finally do look at him, you’re met with light and warmth — something you don’t know if you deserve after all the mess your mind created. He hesitates, but trails his fingers against yours. Testing the waters. Jungkook takes it as a sign to hold your hand when you don’t retract. Even with his calloused hands from years of drumming, you feel the tenderness in his touch.

“I never intended to hurt you or make you feel bad,” his voice laced with sincerity, “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook was right. Intimacy does fuck with your head and heart. Made you think irrationally, abandoning all logic for the sake of protecting your heart and pride. Ridiculous that he’s the one apologizing.

“No,” you shake your head. “I should’ve come to you about it. I’m sorry.” Your eyes water at the admittance.

“Aw, hey, don’t cry …” Jungkook cups your cheek with his other hand.

You sniffle, quickly blinking away the tears because you’re stubborn — not a fan of people witnessing you cry. Instead, you press your cheek into his palm. Missed his touch — missed him.

It’s a little uncoordinated how he pulls you onto his lap, but when you’re seated on him and your head is resting in the crook of his neck, it feels like coming home. There’s a specific scent that clings onto his skin after a long day of being under the sun — slight musk mixed with sunscreen and his cologne. Familiar and comforting. You wonder if he’s just as attached to your scent as you are with his.

“You still haven’t answered my question though …” he swallows, “do you regret it?”

“No,” you shake your head, voice coming out small, “never regretted anything we’ve done.”

“Do you … regret us?” He asks.

You shake your head again. You know you said some hurtful things a while ago. Wish you could take it all back. Can’t seem to muster the courage to tell Jungkook that he’s been the best thing that’s happened to you all season, but you try in your own way.

Torso turned awkwardly and arms sewn around his neck, you hold him. It takes a second for Jungkook to react, body tense and unsure if he’s allowed to embrace you. You exhale, something akin to relief, and he feels it too. Jungkook holds you just as tightly. Tucks himself into your neck and kisses into your hair. Whispers how much he’s missed you and jokes about how foolish you both are — just two enamored fools.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

The day after that night, Jungkook unfollowed Chaewon on all his social media platforms, not before sending a quick message how he no longer wanted to stay friends. You hope it wasn’t because of you. Sure, you had your moments of insecurity about Jungkook and Chaewon and don’t know exactly what transpired between them, but you thought it was a bit excessive to cut someone off cold turkey. But Jungkook had his reasons … reasons for which he’s not ready to talk about just yet. You trusted him and you’ll wait. If he thought this was for the better, you’ll stand by his decision.

The season was nearly over. You’re also over at Jungkook’s a lot, vice versa — made his room a second home. He reserves a section of his nightstand just for your bobby pins and hair ties … no different from your desk chair with a pile of his sleep shirts.

It’s the evening after an ensemble practice and he’s laid between your legs, bare back against your torso. Nothing sexual, just appreciating your company while he drums a random beat on his chest. The warmth of his body feels good on yours, like a heated and weighted blanket all at once. You mindlessly run your fingers in his hair, occasionally earning a shudder from Jungkook if your nails made contact with his scalp.

“Next week’s our last show,” he mutters.

From your position, you notice Jungkook’s pout. Your hand comes to a stop. “You sad?”

“A little. Season’s been tough, wanna end it on a good note.”

Part of you wonders if he was talking about the show or his time with you. Both could be true.

“You will,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and give him a reassuring squeeze, “is your family going to be there?”

Jungkook smiles fondly. “Yeah, they are.”

“Good. That’ll be enough incentive for you to catch this time,” you tease.

“Yah,” he turns, chin propped at your sternum, “I don’t need incentives to do well.”

“Really?” You tilt your head. “That’s not what you said before practice today. ‘One kiss, please? I swear I’ll stick the catch.’” You do your best pleading eyes, but nothing can beat the real deal.

His eyes narrow, lips curving into a playful smile. “You got me.”

Jungkook lays his cheek down on your chest, hesitates with his next words. “How about you though? Is your family going to be there?” He knows family is an uncomfortable topic for you. Hell, talking about hard topics in general was difficult. These days, you’re doing better at communicating your feelings. Jungkook makes it easy — makes the uncomfortable feel comfortable.

“Didn’t invite them, so probably not,” you shrug.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have them there?”

“Maybe …”

Jungkook thinks you’re so pretty when you’re in deep thought. Brows furrowed, lips pressed together in a thin line. There’s that dimple on the right side of your cheek that only appears when you do that. He’s sure you’re not even aware of its existence. Always been so captivated by you. Built this version of you in his head all these years and you’ve shattered every one of his assumptions in just one season. He's gotten to know different sides of you — like when you’re assertive, insecure, caring, angry, sweet … just, you.

“But I don’t need incentives, unlike someone I know.” You smirk.

He likes to entertain all your sides, but this was his favorite — the side that likes to tease. His body shifts, so does yours as you sink your head deeper into his pillow.

“I think you’re getting it mixed up, Cap,” Jungkook hovers over your body, nose touching yours, “incentives make me work harder knowing there’s something to look forward to. As much as I love performing for a big audience,” his lips brushes the corner of your mouth, “it’s more special when there’s someone you know watching.”

“Right?” His breath fans over your lips.

You’re not arguing with a man whose eyes competed with stars. Instead, choosing to accept his words because he’s right … just on this occasion. Because all you want is for him to press his lips to yours.

And Jungkook does that.

Drives him crazy when you get all breathless and whiny against his lips. True to his words, he’s been good with taking it slow with you. Sticks to kissing for now because he fears that he won’t be able to get himself out of the deep end if he reaches to that point of intimacy. Took forever with Chaewon, so he doesn’t know how he’ll fare with you … someone he really likes.

But fuck, you make it hard — make him hard. You gasp and pull away slightly when he accidentally grinds himself against your core. Jungkook shudders and mumbles his apologies, lips finding yours again.

You shake your head. “‘s okay,” you kiss his cheek, “you good?”

“Trying to be,” he swallows and chuckles.

“You don’t have to try to be,” you peer at him through your lashes, “you are good.”

You make the uncomfortable feel comfortable too. Kisses you again tenderly and lets his body relax momentarily.

“Can I be honest with you?”

You nod. “Always.”

“When we had that fall out … it was after we got intimate. I’m worried about that happening again.”

“Oh, Kook,” your stomach sinks at the confession.

“I don’t wanna feel that way with you,” one of his hands cup your cheek, “I trust you.”

“I trust you too. We don’t have to rush into sex to prove anything.” You turn your head to kiss his palm.

He knows. But he wants this badly — wants you. His hard length pressed against you is enough proof. Sensing his turmoil, you push yourself up, making him sit back on his heels.

One of your hands holds his. “You trust me, yeah?”

Jungkook nods, eyes sincere and honest. You lay your back against his headboard, legs spread wide enough to accommodate another person in between. No brainer, a perfect spot for Jungkook.

“Turn around and lay down,” you pat your chest.

Jungkook does just that, no questions asked. He’s right back where he started this evening: between your legs. Except now, there’s a light wave of anticipation floating in the air.

“What do you have in mind?” His voice drops an octave lower.

“Shh,” you hand cups his chin so that your lips could meet his temple. “I got you.” Truthfully, you didn’t know what you were doing. You only wanted to make him feel good, just as he’s done for you.

“You’re always helping others. So attentive,” one of your hands trails down his abdomen, “so good.”

At your praise, Jungkook sinks his teeth down on his lips.

“Think you deserve to be rewarded for that. Don’t you?” You ask. His hand wraps around your wrist, unsure whether to have you continue or stop.

“Wanna make you feel good,” your hand stops just shy of his belly button, thumb rubbing against his skin, “please?”

He releases a little moan, cock twitching in his shorts. You run your hand between his legs, gentle in the way you let yourself trace over his cloth length. Jungkook tips his head back for a second and immediately looks back down again, afraid he might miss out on what’s yet to come.

“God,” he keens, stomach tightening with every fleeting touch.

“Do you want me to stop?” You whisper into his ear. Simple question calls for a simple answer. Jungkook presents his answer in the form of a tilt to his head, whispering a silent plea for you to kiss and continue touching him.

The angle of the kiss is a bit off, gets Jungkook a little giggly, but he quiets down the moment your fingers fumble at the waistband of his shorts. His chest stutters, both hands coming down to help you pull the front of his shorts to expose his hard cock.

Jungkook’s size was always a dead giveaway. Thank god for his obsession with grey sweats. You didn’t think he was this big. Arousal pools between your legs. Wonder if it’d stroke his ego knowing your mind was filled with images of how he’d stretch you out, sink inside you, and fuck you to the hilt.

But nevermind that. This was about him and making him feel good.

Jungkook lets out a needy moan when your hand wraps around his cock. You give it a tiny squeeze and hum at the sight of his precum leaking from his slit. You let go all too soon, and just as he was about to accuse you of teasing him, he hears you spit into your hand.

“Baby ...” His chest heaves when you run your wet hand down his shaft again.

Jungkook was right. It is more special when there’s someone you know watching. Inspires you to perform. To make him feel good. To ignite a reaction, letting you know he enjoys what you’re doing.

He lets you have your way with his body. Pants and shivers when your other hand plays with his nipple. Doesn’t know where to fucking focus because you’re everywhere all at once and he loves every moment of it.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” His eyes lock at the sight before him: your pretty hand wrapped around his hard length covered in both spit and precum.

“Yeah? Go on,” you coax, “you deserve it.” You understand what he means by incentives. Because it motivates you to work harder to draw out his moans, stroke faster then randomly slow down to tease him, and purr sweet nothings into his ears. Makes you fight the arm cramp just to see his eyes flutter shut. Makes you ignore the pleasure pangs hitting your own core just so you can witness his orgasm. Because you want to so badly make him feel good.

“That’s it, so close,” you encourage.

“C-cumming,” Jungkook pants, he digs his head back into your shoulders, “I’m cumming.” You watch the thick ropes of cum paint his torso. Jungkook’s body shakes and withers from pleasure. You let go of his cock and you trail your fingers up his stomach to collect his cum.

He watches with bated breath as you stick your tongue out for an experimental lick. A bit heady for your liking, but who eats cum for the sake of taste? This is all for Jungkook. His fucked out expression was enough reason for you to push your cum coated fingers into your mouth and suck them clean.

“Oh my god,” he groans, turning around to pin you down on his mattress. “You’re so hot.” Doesn’t think twice when he slots his lips to yours, moans muffled at the taste of him on your tongue.

“Made me feel so good,” another peck to seal the deal. “Thank you.” Post nut clarity usually made people run for the hills. Jungkook? Basks in your company and affection. Trusts you with his body and so he naturally trusts you with his heart.

He hopes it’s the same for you.

Words aren’t needed to express how you feel for Jungkook. It’s evident in how your expressions change the more you kiss. How your nose feels against his cheek when you nod for him to touch you. How it doesn’t take long for you to fall apart from his fingers.

Jeon Jungkook knows it’s the same for you.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Last game of the season also meant the last performance of the season. You’re warming up with your guard. Nothing too serious since you don’t like to be tired out before a performance.

“Hey, Cap?” Jimin says mid stretch. “There are a couple of folks behind that keep staring in our direction. You know them?”

It’s a sight you weren’t expecting. Your family. Your parents and brother. Not like you don’t see them often. You call home sometimes. Visits happened towards the end of the semester, so you’d never expect to see them on campus mid-semester… especially your own.

You jog over to them.

“Hey, what are you guys doing here?” You ask breathlessly.

“To see you perform, duh.” Your brother rolls his eyes.

“Uh … but this is-”

“One of your classmates messaged me on Facebook a day ago telling me it’s a very special performance. Honestly, I wished I got the invite from my daughter, but here we are,” your mother exasperates, foot tapping on the ground.

Sensing a bit of awkwardness, your father adds, “we just wanted to say hi and good luck, honey. We’ll be in the stands.” He points in the direction of the stadium.

“Oh, okay, um, thank you. I’ll see you all later?” You walk back to your section, confused, but there was something else. Excitement? Disbelief? Maybe all of the above.

“You okay?” Jimin asks while gathering his equipment.

You look over to where Jungkook was warming up with drumline. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Director Lee is a man of traditions and rituals. Doesn’t like splitting poles because he thinks it’s bad luck. He also made it a tradition to announce every fourth year’s name to the stadium as the band file to their spot for the last performance of the season. Think of it as an informal send off. Gets the entire band a little emotional before the show.

You feel a lot. The nearly filled stands. Your family in those very stands. Jungkook. The fourth-years. All the practices, mistakes, and injuries led you up to this moment.

Hoseok salutes to the audience and the stadium quiets down when he turns back to the band. Even from far away, you can feel his presence. It’s commanding, ready to lead.

And that’s what Hoseok does. Everything blurs when the music starts. It’s all muscle memory. The cheers for the flag and music features fuels the entire band to perfection.

Despite your confusion about your family, they’re here, watching you.

The stadium erupts in cheers at the end of the performance. You’re the first to break formation to hug your guard members. You remain smiling as you walk off the field, eyes catching a glimpse of Jungkook’s mother waving at him. Your eyes scan for your family. When you finally spot them, they’re all seated and clapping. Your mother’s approving nod doesn’t go unnoticed. There’s a stark difference to the support Jungkook receives from his family.

As imperfect as your family’s affection and support may be, it fills your heart with a type of warmth you’ve yet to experience till now.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Director Lee’s traditions spanned to post-performance pizza following the senior plaques he’d hand out. New section leaders were also selected. Director Lee knew at a glance who had leadership potential, but he’s always watching throughout the season in preparation for his departing section leaders.

Jungkook only ever cared about the pizza. Not that he never saw himself as a leader, but he knew there was always someone better fit for the job. This year? Screw the pizza. Screw the new leader. Okay, well, no, he hopes they’re a good pick. At the moment, that’s the least of his concerns.

“So like … are you gonna eat that?” Jimin eyes the untouched pizza on Jungkook’s plate. Jungkook wordlessly passes his plate over to Jimin, far too immersed in the conversation you were having with Yoongi a couple feet away.

He knows he overstepped by sending that message to your mother. Should’ve respected your decisions … or lack thereof.

You walk toward the front door, look over in his direction, and give him a subtle nod. Doesn’t need to be told twice — Jungkook springs up on his feet and adjusts his bibber.

“Where ya goin’?” Jimin asks Jungkook with a mouthful.

“Bathroom,” Jungkook replies quickly.

“Well, hurry up. Lee is doing awards and section leader announcements soon.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay,” he answers distractedly, too focused on the direction you’re headed in.

Jungkook was on a mission. He got his apology rehearsed in his head. Follows closely behind you as you head up the stairs to the storage room. Honestly? Wouldn’t have been his first choice to chat here. For one, creepy. Two, dusty as hell. But he’ll go where you go.

When the door shuts behind him, you turn on your heel to face him. Even with the dim lighting, Jungkook still finds your glittery show makeup beautiful — you’re beautiful. Crushes his soul a little bit when you frown … he’s ready for a round of scolding, so he’ll try to beat you to it.

“I know what I did was out of line. I just th—mmph-” The apology he rehearsed for the past hour dies on his lips as you pull him down for a searing kiss. Your hands untangle from the straps of his bibber to wrap around his neck.

“You’re so annoying,” you say in between kisses. Your words don’t exactly match your actions. You bite down on his lower lip, enough pressure to draw out a tiny hiss turned moan. Jungkook backs you against the wall and knocks over a couple of boxes with flag silks. He’s quick to remedy it with promises to clean it up in favor of kissing you.

The storage room was a bit stuffy … probably loaded with a bunch of asbestos, but it just might be Jungkook’s favorite place at the moment. Just when he thinks all is well and forgiven, you pull away with a glare.

“Don't think you’re off the hook.”

“Wait, huh?”

“JB! You in here?” Yoongi calls from below.

Yoongi makes his way up the stairs, steps slow and sluggish. You can’t tell if it’s due to his lack of energy or if he’s giving himself enough time to not walk into something he doesn’t want to see. Regardless, it buys you some time. You and Jungkook have never moved so fast. Him, hiding behind a rack of retired uniforms. You, inconspicuously folding the discarded flag silks on the ground.

“Yep, in here!” You peek your head to the side to see Yoongi lean at the railing.

“Lee wants everyone in the band room. Doing announcements soon.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

Yoongi stands in place for a moment, snorts before he makes his way downstairs again.

“Need you there too, Kook.” Yoongi says, loud enough for you both to hear. Your head snaps in Jungkook’s direction and you can’t bring yourself to stay angry at the view: his fluffy hair and beat up converse high tops on full display.

“Whoops,” Jungkook emerges from the racks with a boxy smile.

“Come on, let’s go back.” You say, swiping away the red tint off his lips. Preen him a little. Not trying to hide anything, but you wanted to look presentable for announcements — it’ll be an important one.

“Shouldn’t we address the elephant in the room?” He nervously chews on his lips.

You shake your head and hold out your hand. “It can wait. I have dinner plans with my family later … meet me at my place afterwards?”

“Okay … but like, are we good?”

“Maybe.” You shrug and purse your lips.

Maybe? No, that won’t fly by with Jungkook. Thought you guys were past this whole miscommunication stage of your guys’ relationship. He needs that extra reassurance. Figured he won’t get that till after your family dinner … doesn’t stop him from playing out the possible scenarios in his head as Director Lee goes through his announcements.

People are clapping on and off. Again, doesn’t matter to him.

“Jungkook? Hellooooo?” Yoongi waves his hand in front of him.

“Huh, wha … sorry, what’d I miss?” Jungkook shakes himself out of his trance.

“Welcome back to earth, Space Cadet.” Director Lee huffs. A bunch of band members snickers from the comment, his section included.

“You’re the new percussion section leader, Space Cadet.” Yoongi grins.

He should be celebrating. It’s a feat and honor to become a section leader. He knows nothing about it, but he’s got great role models, so he’s got a good foundation and baseline for what a good leader should look like. Only issue? Jungkook thought he’d been lucky to evade the nickname curse. Now he’s stuck with one … and a not so great one at that.

He looks for you in the room. Spots you instantly and you throw a tiny thumbs up and a teasing smile in his direction.

You mouth: Congrats, Spacey.

Maybe the new nickname isn’t so bad after all.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Dinner with your family was okay. There wasn’t much to chat about other than your father asking if you are continuing ‘this’ after graduating.

“We’re just wondering. Eventually you’ll have to put work first,” your mother reasons. “Your body won’t be able to keep up as you age.”

You know it’s said with care and concern, but you can’t help but feel like you’re being lectured for doing something unconventional. God forbid you be happy with activities outside of a typical 9 to 5. The conversation moves over to your brother and what he’s been doing. You’re thankful the attention is off you for now. You’d much rather be home with a particular drummer anyway.

You [8:39 p.m.]: I’ll be home in about 30 mins. Jungkook 🥁 [8:39 p.m.]: ok, be safe. see u later ❤️

You smile down at your phone. Yes, you were still upset and made it a known fact to Jungkook. Hated seeing him confused, but that’s life. He'll have to sit with the consequences of his actions.

Kind of like how you have to sit through this dinner.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

Jungkook arrives at your doorstep about four minutes after you get home. In his hands were a dozen of sunflowers he picked up after Director Lee dismissed the band. Thought it would help his case a little. It does. You accept them with a smile and step to the side to let him in.

“Pretty,” he compliments. You look down at the simple sundress you put on for dinner. Realize Jungkook has only seen you in t-shirts and athletic wear. Though, you could be in a potato sack and he’d still find you lovely.

“Thank you.”

He follows you to your couch. Usually he likes to sit right next to you, but thinks space is what you’d prefer for this type of conversation. He had plenty of time to reevaluate his actions in the shower and even more time while he waited for your text to come over.

“I truly am sorry. I shouldn’t have gone behind your back. Just thought they should come out and support you.”

You sigh and place the flowers on your coffee table.

“How’d you even find my mother?” You ask.

“Um, it wasn’t that hard to sift through your friends list. Plus, there’s not a lot of middle aged women that you look like. Could’ve passed as your older sister, honestly.”

“Funny,” you smile, “she’d love to hear that.”

“Score.” Jungkook grins.

You mindlessly play with the fringes on your dress, unsure what to say next.

Jungkook reads you perfectly as always. “What’s up? You okay?”

“Just have a lot on my mind.” You fold your hands in your lap.

“I get it,” he nods.

“I don’t think you do.” You pause, chewing on your lips before you continue. “The show, offering me a place to study, the sponsors, Wooyoung, and now my family …” you recount, “you keep doing these things for me.”

Jungkook frowns, “do you not want me to?”

You shake your head. “It’s not that I don’t want you to. I’m just not used to it.” You’re not used to being taken care of nor understood. It’s always been like this. With your family, friends, even some of the folks you’ve marched with in the past. But in the time you’ve gotten to know Jungkook, that’s all he’s given you.

Feels like he knows what you need better than you do sometimes. Feels like he does things out of care and not obligation.

It’s not a feeling anymore when he pulls you onto his lap, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I know you’re capable of doing everything and more, Juice. But unless you don’t want me to, I’ll always want to help you,” he says.

You nod, fingers playing with the ends of his shirt. “I know, and I appreciate that. It’s just hard letting go,” you shrug.

“Of what?”

“Control?”

He chuckles, “you don’t say, Cap.”

You roll your eyes, “you’re a section leader now too.”

“Ah, that, I am,” he agrees, “means we’ll be working together more. You gonna give me a hard time?”

“Ask Yoongi.”

Jungkook laughs and holds you closer. He clears his throat, “need to make sure, though … am I forgiven?”

“Wasn’t that upset, Kook.” If you were truly mad at Jungkook, you wouldn’t have kissed him back in the storage room. “But yes, you’re forgiven. No more messaging my mother on Facebook though. She thought you were a bot for some reason.”

“Huh? I don’t know why she’d think that …” Jungkook pulls out his phone to show you the message thread.

The first line read: To Whom It May Concern …

“This screams scam, Kook.” You snicker, skimming through the well-thought out message. Punctuated perfectly and straight to the point. What a stark difference to the silly text messages you receive from him on the daily. Could barely tell it’s him. The only glaring similarity? Jungkook doesn’t sugarcoat his intentions — never when it comes to you.

Jungkook pouts, “they still came to the show …”

“Yeah, they did,” your eyes soften, handing his phone back to him, “made me really happy seeing my family there.” You tuck his hair behind his ear.

“You deserve to be.”

And you also find happiness in when you press your lips against his. Happiness in when he giggles, nose scrunched and all. Happiness in when he moans as you roll your hips over him.

Jungkook pulls away to trail kisses down your cheek and neck. “You said you’re worried about letting go of control … we can work on that.”

You whimper at a particularly harsher suck, “how?”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

You’ve always preferred being in the mentor role. There’s no ambiguity in teaching someone what you already know. Never have to anticipate the unknown.

You find yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, watching Jungkook take off his shirt. So ready to welcome the unknown. It comes to you in the form of Jungkook’s sunkissed body and hooded eyes. He’s well-loved by his friends and family. Only natural to be well-loved by the sun as well. The sun will spend eternity chasing Jungkook and it’ll never come close to seeing all that you will in this lifetime.

“You trust me, yeah?” He walks up to you, legs bumping into your knees. Jungkook cups your cheek and tilts your head up to look at him. Needs to see you.

“‘Course, I do.” You smile.

“Good,” he steps back, “turn around for me.”

You wordlessly get on your hands and knees, chin turned at your shoulder to look at Jungkook, “like this?”

“Just like that,” he praises, gaze dropping at your ass where your dress falls perfectly around your hips.

One of his hands trails up your back and gently pushes you down. Your forearms cushion your drop, not that you needed it. You’re pliant for Jungkook.

You hear him shuffle behind you, both his hands are at your hips as he leans into down to kiss your shoulder. One of his hands goes under the skirt of your dress, knuckles grazing your inner thigh as if he’s asking permission to do more. You turn your head to the side with a visible pout.

“Are you going to be edging me or something?”

Jungkook snickers. “What? You want me to?”

So it appears edging wasn’t his goal.

His hand cups your sex, middle finger trailing up and down your clothed slit. “You’re soaked through, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, “‘s cause you were thinking about getting edged?”

You shake your head no. “Can’t help it,” your fingers grip your sheets as his fingers move a little quicker. “You got me like this.”

Jungkook groans at your confession. “I did, didn’t I?”

He reluctantly lifts himself up and away from you. Almost regrets it when he sees your brows furrow in disappointment. Makes a mental note to make it up to you one way or another. Season’s over, but Jungkook has all the time in the world with you. He pushes your dress up and over your ass. Feels his cock stiffen in his pants at the sight of your beige colored panties. He always had a thing for your ass. Shamelessly looked at it in the past whenever you were busy stretching. Proud to know that this view belonged to him and only him. He lets his gaze linger at the sight of the dark wet patch at the center of your panties.

Yeah, he got you like this.

“You still with me, Spacey?” you tease when you notice him staring at you longer than anticipated.

He shakes himself out of stupor. “You’re lucky I like you.” His knuckle trails up and down your slit. Got you shuddering again.

“What do you want me to call you then?” You ask.

Jungkook feigns deep thought, humming as he throws out random nicknames.

“Baby?” He pulls your panties down your thighs.

“Honey?” You giggle as he taps your knees to fully remove your underwear.

“Boyfriend?” He parts your ass, lets a dribble of spit trail down the center and to your cunt. Your hole clenches around nothing.

“You liked that one?” Jungkook asks, spitting directly at your hole this time. “Hm?” Trails kisses down your folds, deliberately avoiding your clit till he gets an answer.

“Kook,” you mewl.

“Tell me,” it comes out needy, “please?”

“I do, yeah.” You confess, “I like it a lot — like you so much.”

That’s all he needed. You choke on a moan as Jungkook licks one long strip from your clit to your entrance. He rocks your hips to his face, pistoning his tongue into your tight pussy. Pushes your ass up a little higher so he could have better access to your clit. He licks, sucks, moans, and repeats as if he knows nothing more than to please you.

Jungkook’s moans come out muffled, face stuffed so deeply between your legs, you’d think he’d suffocate to death. On the contrary, he’d argue that life’s worth living even more now. You catch a glimpse of him with his eyes closed and his arm moving fervently between his legs. So shameless and impatient — needs to wank himself for some relief.

“Pretty baby, so fucking wet for me,” he praises against your sex, hot and breathless. Your hand comes around to hold his. Your absolute favorite part of his body. Love it on your body and even more when woven between your fingers — keeps you grounded and secure as you reach your orgasm. And even before you’ve fully come down, Jungkook pulls away and stuffs your cunt with two fingers, curling and thrusting in you with a type of speed and precision that has you gasping. Doesn’t give you room to breathe, prefers having you like this anyway.

“Baby, y-you’re gonna make me cum again.” You cry, eyes fighting to stay open. A certain numbness pools at your stomach, begging to snap at the curl of Jungkook’s fingers.

“I know,” he encourages, “make a mess on my fingers, come on.”

You come again, eyes rolled to the back of your head and moans stifled by your sheets. Jungkook draws in a breath, absolutely hypnotized with your pussy clenching and suctioning his fingers. After a couple seconds pass, Jungkook slowly pulls his fingers out and rolls you down onto your back. He clambers his way on top of you. Wants nothing more than to kiss you and be in your arms. You, on the other hand, had different plans.

“What are you …” Jungkook grunts softly into your mouth. You slide your hands down into his pants and wrap your fingers around his hard cock. Give him one, two, three good pumps before you break away from his lips.

“Honey is a little old-fashioned, no?” You breathlessly ask, your free hand tugs at his belt loops. Jungkook gets the hint and swiftly pulls down his pants and briefs all at once.

“Honey is cute.” He argues, tugging your top down to expose your breasts.

“For married couples, sure. Not suited for a boyfriend.” You correct.

He nods, nicknames don’t really matter to him anyway. Just wanna be yours. Instead, he chooses to latch his lips to your nipple, hand groping the other breast. Bites down on your nipple and immediately soothes it over with his tongue. Jungkook goes back and forth between the two, loving your reactions. The pleasure builds again. He hisses when you roll your hips up at him.

“Tonight’s about you letting go, remember?” He reminds, “I'll take care of you, promise.”

“Want you to feel good too.”

“I do,” he swoops his hand underneath your thigh and pushes it up, “so much, with you.” He guides his cock in between your folds. It’s wet and messy, just how he wants it. You wince at the over sensitivity, but ignore it because Jungkook is falling apart above you. He looks down between you both, mesmerized by your slick coating his length.

You watch him, watch as he slides his cock up and down your core, watch how the head of his cock knocks and moves against your clit.

“You feel so good like this,” Jungkook holds your jaw, nose caressing yours, “wonder how you’d feel inside.”

You whine, hips pushing upwards, “please …”

He shushes you with a kiss, requesting you to be patient with promises of making you feel good. It’s dizzying, but you listen and let him take the reins. Jungkook shifts his hips and you gasp into his mouth at the feel of his hard cock at your entrance. Your pussy flutters around him, so wet and ready. The head of his cock nudges in, stretch so minimal with how well he’s prepped you. You moan and let your head sink onto your pillow. He doesn’t push into you any further, just the tip.

“Mm, you are edging me,” you accuse, unable to move as Jungkook has your hips pinned down to the mattress.

“You wouldn’t like me if I edged you, Juice.” He smiles.

Impossible. Don’t think there’s a universe or lifetime you wouldn’t be drawn by him and him to you. “Need you inside me, Jungkook,” you say, “please?”

He savors the moment for a little longer, tempted to do as you request. God, he would. But Jungkook has a promise to uphold and a lesson to teach. He keeps his word as he slowly inserts himself inch by inch, watching your brows furrow and mouth drop open in frustration.

Jungkook’s just as fucked out. Involuntarily bucks his hips, drawing out a surprised, high-pitched moan from you. Big mistake. The need to hear that again fuels something primal in him. His arms swoop underneath your head. Has you in an embrace as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear — such a contrast to his ruthless hips. Jungkook’s whole life has been about music. Over the years, he saved music sheets from his favorite pieces and shows. His most favorite melody? Your broken moans and cries, spurring him on to continue fucking you.

He’s not sure how long this goes for until he finally lifts himself up, immediately misses the warmth of your body. The view below him makes up for it: your dress bundled up around your waist, breasts bouncing after every thrust, and your wanton gaze. His eyes drop lower at where you both connect — groans at the cream coating his cock and how it gathers at the base after every push. Your breath hitches when his reaches between your bodies and toys with your clit. “Yes, yes, yes, oh, Kook, right there.”

“I—” you can’t even finish your sentence as you cum again for the third time. Jungkook’s eyes close, head tipped back at the feel of your walls squeezing around him.

“Shit,” he trembles and pulls out, trying his best to delay his orgasm. Doesn’t want any of this to end so soon.

Jungkook lays down next to you, hard cock smearing your cum on your stomach. You smile, one of your legs tossed over his hips to keep him close. You’re so tired, but there’s this glint in his eyes — he wants more. Far from being done, he pulls you on top of him, dark locks falling prettily on your pillows. Claims how much he likes your dress as he helps you get out of it.

“Couldn’t have liked it that much if it’s off me now.” You tuck Jungkook’s hair behind his ears and his expression shifts. Fondness. Warmth. Devotion. Jungkook drinks in the view before him — cock twitches at the sight of your fully naked body. Thinks he needs to block out a day to just kiss all your moles, scars, and freckles — adore them one by one. He settles for a small kiss on your palm, and positions his cock for you, eyes pleading at you to sink down on him. Your hip lifts and lowers slowly, stuffing yourself full of him again, fighting the over sensitivity.

“You feel so good,” he rasps, “take me so well.”

You nod, hands pressing his abdomen to hold yourself up. You move first, slow and deliberate to take in his expressions. Jungkook lets you take control for a minute. Just a minute. Because eventually, his fingers dig into your hips, maneuvering you up and down how he likes. Your legs shake, too weak to keep you upright.

“Come here,” he tugs you down so that your chest presses down on his. The new position makes it easier for him to bounce you down. You cry out into the crook of his neck. You trust Jungkook, trust that only he could take your pleasure to another level. Trust him with your body — your heart.

“So good for me,” he grips harder, feeling that familiar heaviness pool at his balls when he’s close. “You can give me another one, right?”

You feel your slick drip down his length with every drop of your hips. You whimper, shake your head, “n-no, I don’t think I can.”

He kisses your temple, “‘s okay, can you hold on for me? I’m so close.”

Of course you can. Anything for him. Anything to see him cum. Because of you, for you. He hugs you close, plants his feet down on your mattress, and fucks himself up into you.

You’re a liar. Body betrays you as he has you bracing his chest and digging your fingernails into his shoulders. Pretty crescent moons on your sunshine. So perfect. Even when you sob from the intensity of his thrusts, you want nothing more than for this feeling to last forever. Because Jungkook has you cumming again, pussy fluttering and milking his length for all he’s worth. It surprises the both of you — surprises Jungkook more when you press your face into his neck and he feels wetness on his skin.

“Baby,” he huffs, “wh-where should I—” hips losing rhythm and stuttering from your clenches.

“Inside, please cum inside me,” you use all your strength to lift your head to kiss him. That’s when Jungkook sees it: your watery lashes.

"Gonna cum," Jungkook gasps, eyes squeezed shut, both hands now pushing your ass to meet his hips, “oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He groans loudly into your mouth, shamelessly sucks on your tongue and pumps himself two more times into your cunt before finishing inside you.

Jungkook stills. Pants hard. Mentally snorts at all his past dumb fantasies because they’ll never compare to how he feels with you right now. Doesn’t think he’s ever cummed this much and this hard. But it’s you, the girl he’s fancied for so long. You and Jungkook stay like this for a while longer. His hand trails up and down your back, nearly lulling you to sleep. Jungkook knows you — would rather go barefoot on lego pieces than sleep dirty. You made it clear that showers are a must after practice and before bedtime. Sex was no exception.

Another thirty seconds pass and Jungkook slowly pulls out of you. You wince and close your fists against his chest.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes with kisses on your shoulder and gently rolls you onto your back. He looks a little silly rushing to the bathroom while hopping into his briefs. Comes back with a warm cloth to which you realize seconds later was your favorite face towel.

“Jungkook,” you whine as he parts your legs to clean you up, too weak to put up a fight.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you a new one. You okay, though?”

“Yeah, ‘m good.” You smile, eyes filled with adoration.

How could you not be? Jungkook kisses the old bruises on your knees just as he’s kissed the old wounds in your heart.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ─────

“Whatcha doing?” Jungkook hums into your ear.

“Signing us up for auditions.” You reply naturally, fingers typing away on your phone.

“Uh, what?” He lifts his head up from the pillow, one eye shut from the brightness of your phone.

“With the Tridents.”

“Drum corps? Wait, Juice, I don’t know if I’m ready. There are a lot of good drummers out there …”

“Why not? You’re literally a section leader. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

“But—”

“We’ll go together,” you turn. “Come on, we age out of this circuit soon.”

He looks uncertain. Hesitation stirs in his irises.

“If any of us don’t make the cut, we’re both out. Kay?” Half lie because you’ll encourage him to stay even if you were to get cut first.

Jungkook stares at you, bites his lips as he contemplates his decision. Caves in under three seconds at the sight of your pleading eyes, “Alright, let’s do this.” He’s jittery in your embrace. Can’t believe he’s doing this. Knows he has to go for it.

Because life’s too short not to go full out.

fin.

a/n: fun fact! my high school crush was in the drumline too. funnily enough, i recently saw him after years of radio silence. guess what i did 😎 anyway, lmk if you have any thoughts/feedback/questions ♡

#jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook college au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook drummer #Jungkook marching band #bts fic recs #jungkook fic recs #bangtan fic #bts fanfic

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ozzgin · 10 months ago

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Tis I, good ol' ❄️ nonnie 👁️🫦💞 Dw, the kids and Bartholomew Chungus Roofus Goofy Achilles Pedro Pascal are doing great..

NOW.. I opened my eyes and saw a real nice rq you wrote out, abt the husband cow hybrid? Now.. hear me out, I was thinking with my cat, but...

Male lactation, gynaecomastia and milk flavoured/consistency cum.

He gets overstimulated by the smallest touches and has a crazy oral fixation, so, THINK ABT THIS FOLLOWING SCENARRR.IO.... ;

Your darling husband, after a long day of your teasing is oh so overstimulated, teh poor guy is rock hard.. and, although it IS your fault, he'd never blame you, the sweetheart <3..

Suddenly, as you finish washing the dishes, he walks over behind you, his abnormally tall frame casting a shadow on your body. He slowly loops his arms around your waist, licking stripes up your neck, his nipples already begging for attention, dribbling due to his arousal.

After he gets your nod of consent (BC CONSENT IS SO SO HOT.. 🥵🤤) he drags you to the couch and gets on his knees infront of you, while you sit in a relaxed position, your legs slung over his shoulders as he begins to eat you out/give you head.

His round eyes are teary, his long lashes stuck together. He just can't help himself! He loves you so so much, so when you tuck his bangs behind his ear so compassionately, before gently tugging on his nipples with one hand while the other gently strokes his head, petting his ears, he almost blows his load, his eyes rolling to the back of his head before you cut him off, telling him softly to get on the couch, before he can cum

He obeys, but is teary eyed at his failed attempt to cum. As he lays on his back you suck and lick his nipples, drinking drops of warm and sweet milk, before pressing kisses along his torso and abs, before sucking him off, holding his trembling hands in yours.

While the milk from his tits was sweet and reminded you of cow milk, his cum is slightly saltier and reminds you more of oat milk, the consistency still runny and the temperature still warm.

After you drink every last drop, he hoists you up, hugging you close and pressing soft kisses to your neck, lips, shoulders, cheeks and forehead, effectively lulling you to sleep better than any lullaby.

Today was eventful, but with him.. every day is a dream, the sex being only the silver lining, while his love and kindness being front stage.. You both silently think to yourselves "How did I get so lucky?" with a smile on your faces before drifting off to dream land.

Yeah I hyperfixated on this bs, but hey, even when you are neuro-divergent, you can stay thuggin'. Shout out to my boy Nagisa from 50% Off, he's the OG 🗣️👣

And to the lactose not tolerant and lactose challenged pookies, uhh, oopsies

Here's some dookie wiping paper, aha (with rizz) 👁️👅👁️🫴🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻

I don't think there's much to add to your story. This is it, the magnum opus of hucow husband. All I have is a humble doodle to match your literary work.

#doodle #cow hybrid #hucow husband #hybrid x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #monster smut #monster fucker #terato #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #❄️ anon

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kurooh · 1 year ago

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Hey, it's me again! And I bring another thirst rant!

What would be the reaction of the MHA men to be overstimulated? Like they cum so many damn times they cry and whimper and beg for us to stop. And we are like 😈😈😈.

🐰

18+ content (mdni), characters are aged up

izuku always thinks he can take it— even when tears are welling up in his eyes and his bitten lips are wobbling, he doesn’t tell you to stop. his nipples have always been sensitive, so when you sit beside him and suck on his tits while jerking his cock, it’s easy for him to feel like it’s too much.

“keep going, t-that’s perfect, mhm..”

katsuki’s only interested in overstimulating you, but in the event that you manage to ride him past a few orgasms (he lets you), his groans will become louder and he’ll fidget ever so slightly beneath you. crimson eyes tend to grow glassy as katsuki’s jaw clenches and unclenches when you take his cock particularly deep.

“nnghh, fuck— good fuckin’ girl, baby.”

eijirou loves to fuck you in missionary until you’re both teary eyed and melting into one another. even when you’ve cum 4 times, he keeps going, desperate to pull another out of you; sometimes it feels like his cock is going to be sore from all the stimulation, but that absolutely doesn’t stop him. when you’re babbling on and on about how it’s just too much, or how good it feels, eijirou just wipes the drool from your lip with affectionate fingers.

“i know, i know baby, i’m listening.. l-last one, yeah?”

keigo gets overstimulated quickly and easily; he always says something like “thank you, dove.. felt so fuckin’ good.” right after a good blowjob. but he panics and his wings flutter too when he sees the mischievous glint in your eyes as you dive back down, taking his cock deep into your throat. he knows you know how he gets after a little too much sex, so he tries his hardest to prevent you from going too far, but to no avail. when you double down on keigo’s most sensitive spots and make him cum again and again he can’t stop himself from crying.

“dove, it’s t-too much! i can’t take it, it hurts, i— oh, fuck!”

#juno’s inbox #🐰 anon #mha smut #bnha smut #kirishima smut #bakugou smut #deku smut #midoriya smut #hawks smut

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amyzworldds · 3 months ago

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hii !! it's my birthday right now (april 12) and i'm carving some angst rn heheheh i was thinking about YN birthday, instead of them hanging out together, celebrating her birthday. they forgot her birthday but YN thought they were pranking her and planning to make a surprise birthday party for her, they ACTUALLY forgot her birthday. she waited for a week for them to say a happy birthday to her (she was willing to accept belated happy birthday from them) but none of them did, and became colder to her. YN got sulky and angry so she drank and drank until she became drunk, and got home on 10 pm, which is past their curfew. she got caught and got scolded by seungcheol, who was waiting at the front door looking angry. well, she was drunk and was not on her right mind, unconsciously said some things she's been keeping to her self.

Title: Forgotten Birthday

Masterlist

When Y/N, wakes up excited for her 25th birthday, she anticipates the usual chaos and love from her bandmates. But as the days unfold with packed schedules and unexpected silence, she grapples with emotions that test their decade-long bond, leading to a heartfelt journey of connection and understanding. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th reader Genre: Fluff, Angst

Y/N woke up bright and early, the crisp April air filling her with a familiar buzz of excitement. Today was special—April 12, her birthday. She stretched happily as she stepped out of her room in the dorm, a wide grin plastered on her face. Birthdays were always a big deal for her, and being part of Seventeen made them even more unforgettable. She glanced around, expecting the usual chaos of the boys bombarding her with "Happy Birthday!" the moment she appeared, like they always did at the start of April to tease her. But today? Nothing. Just a few sleepy glances from the members sprawled across the living room.

Hoshi was slouched on the couch, rubbing his eyes. Mingyu was half-asleep over a bowl of cereal, and Seungcheol gave her a lazy nod before scrolling through his phone. Y/N smirked knowingly. Oh, they’re playing it cool again, huh? she thought. The boys were notorious for their birthday pranks, and she was certain they were up to something.

“Morning, guys!” she chirped, bouncing into the kitchen.

“Mmm,” Jeonghan mumbled, sipping his coffee. “Morning, Y/N.”

That was it? No cheeky grin, no nudge-nudge-wink-wink? Y/N’s smirk widened. Nice try, boys. She grabbed a glass of juice, humming to herself as she leaned against the counter, watching them drag themselves around like zombies. They’d had a brutal schedule last night—a fan event that ran way past midnight—and it showed. Dark circles, messy hair, and barely any words exchanged. Still, Y/N wasn’t buying the act. They were definitely planning something.

In the van to their next schedule, Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement. “So,” she started, leaning forward, “April’s a pretty big month, right? Lots of… plans?” She wiggled her eyebrows, glancing at Dino, who was squished next to her.

He yawned. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Concerts, comebacks… the usual.”

“Anything else?” she pressed, her tone playful.

Woozi, eyes closed and head against the window, muttered, “Y/N, can we talk about this later? I’m dying here.”

“Yeah, some of us need sleep,” Vernon added, pulling his hoodie over his face.

Y/N leaned back, crossing her arms with a smug grin. Oh, they’re good. She could picture it already—the moment they’d “surprise” her, probably bursting into the practice room with a cake or ambushing her at the dorm later. Last year, they’d ignored her all day only to barge into her room at midnight with a massive cake, balloons, and a pile of gifts, laughing as she pretended to be shocked. The year before that, they’d pulled an even wilder stunt, acting mad at her for “being late” to a meeting (which was fake), only for her to end up teary-eyed before they revealed the prank with confetti and hugs. This year, she was ready for whatever they had up their sleeves.

The day was a whirlwind—back-to-back rehearsals, a radio show, and a photoshoot that left everyone wiped out. Every time Y/N dropped a hint about April or birthdays, the boys brushed it off. “We know, Y/N,” Seungkwan said at one point, sounding exasperated. “But can we just… rest for five minutes?”

“Okay, okay,” she replied, her smirk never fading. They’re so obvious. By evening, as they piled back into the van, Y/N was practically vibrating with anticipation. Any minute now, they’d pull the big reveal. She could feel it

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

The first week of April flew by in a blur of schedules, and now, with only four days left until her 25th birthday on April 12, Y/N was practically glowing. She’d stopped dropping hints or teasing the boys about it—she didn’t want to ruin their carefully crafted “surprise.” But that didn’t stop her from grinning ear to ear, shooting knowing glances at her bandmates whenever they caught her eye. They’re probably finalizing the big plan right now, she thought, barely containing her excitement. Seventeen’s pranks were legendary, and her 25th birthday felt like it was going to be their grandest scheme yet.

Their days were packed to the brim—dance practices, interviews, and late-night recordings that left everyone drained. Y/N was just as exhausted as the boys, her muscles aching and eyes heavy, but the thought of her upcoming birthday kept her buzzing. She’d catch herself humming in the van or bouncing her leg during breaks, unable to shake the anticipation.

In the dorm one morning, Y/N plopped onto the couch next to Mingyu, who was scrolling through his phone, looking half-dead. “Morning, Gyu oppa! Big day ahead, huh?” she said, her grin wide and teasing.

He barely glanced up. “If by ‘big’ you mean exhausting, then yeah. I’m already tired.”

“Oh, come on, you’ve got that spark in you somewhere!” Y/N nudged him, her eyes glinting. He’s totally playing it cool.

Across the room, Seungcheol was shoving toast in his mouth while checking their schedule. “Y/N, save the energy. We’ve got back-to-back shoots today.”

“I’m ready, leader-nim!” she chirped, leaning back with a smirk. “April’s got me in a great mood.”

Jeonghan, lounging on a beanbag with a face mask on, cracked one eye open. “You’re way too cheerful for 7 am What’s with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she sang, winking at him. “Just… feeling good about this month.” Oh, you’re not fooling me, Yoon Jeonghan.

In the van to their first schedule, Y/N sat squished between Dino and Woozi, her grin still plastered on. “So, guys, four days until… you know, a really cool date in April. Any thoughts?” she asked, barely hiding her glee.

Dino yawned, his head lolling onto her shoulder. “Four days until I hopefully get some sleep. That’s my thought.”

Woozi didn’t even open his eyes, earbuds in. “Y/N, please. I’m begging you. Let me nap.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll be quiet,” she said, holding up her hands but still smiling. Nap all you want, Jihoon. I know you’re scheming.

At the dance studio later, the group was drenched in sweat, running through their choreography for the nth time. Y/N spun past Hoshi, who was barking instructions like a drill sergeant. “Y/N, sharper on that turn!” he called.

“Got it, boss!” she replied, flashing him a grin. “Gotta look good for… you know, special occasions.”

He raised an eyebrow, wiping his forehead. “Special occasions? Like not collapsing after this set?”

“Sure, something like that!” she laughed, twirling away. Keep pretending, Soonyoung.

During a quick water break, Seungkwan plopped down next to her, fanning himself. “Why are you so smiley today? It’s freaking me out.”

“Can’t a girl just be happy?” Y/N shot back, nudging him. “April’s my favorite month, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” he muttered, gulping water. “But you’re, like, extra happy. It’s suspicious.”

“Suspicious? Me?” She gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m just living my best life, Kwannie.”

Vernon, overhearing, snorted from a few feet away. “Living your best life while we’re all dying? Respect.”

“Thank you, Hansol,” she said, bowing with a flourish. “I take my job as the group’s sunshine very seriously.”

By the time they wrapped their last schedule—a late-night radio show—Y/N’s energy was finally starting to wane. She slumped into the van, her head resting against the window. Still, her lips curved into a small smile as she thought about her birthday. Four more days, and they’ll pull out all the stops. Cakes, balloons, maybe even a goofy handmade card from DK.

Joshua, sitting beside her, noticed her expression. “You’re still smiling? After today’s chaos?”

“Always,” she murmured, eyes half-closed. “Got a lot to look forward to, Shua oppa.”

“You’re unstoppable,” he said with a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Just don’t burn out before we do.”

“No promises,” she teased, her voice fading as she drifted into a light doze, her mind still buzzing with visions of the birthday surprise she was sure was coming.

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

The morning of April 12 arrived, and Y/N woke with a flutter in her chest. Her 25th birthday. A milestone. The dorm was eerily silent, not a single sound stirring the air—no clatter of pans, no muffled laughter, no whispered plotting behind closed doors. She sat up in bed, her lips curving into a hopeful smile. Okay, maybe later, she thought, brushing off the quiet. They’re probably saving it for after today’s schedule. Seventeen loved their dramatic reveals, and Y/N was certain they’d outdo themselves this time. She could already picture the chaos—cake smeared on her face, balloons everywhere, Mingyu tripping over a gift box in his excitement.

She bounded out of her room, her energy dialed to eleven despite the packed day ahead. In the living room, a few of the boys were slumped on the couch, scrolling through their phones or sipping coffee, their faces drawn with exhaustion. Y/N didn’t let it faze her. She was practically vibrating, her grin wide as she leaned over the back of the couch where Hoshi and Seungkwan sat.

“Morning, guys! Feeling good today?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows. “Like, really good?”

Hoshi barely looked up, his voice flat. “It’s just another day, Y/N. Chill.”

Her smile faltered for a split second, but she rallied, laughing it off. “Oh, come on, it’s a great day! Perfect for, you know, big moments!”

Seungkwan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can you not be so loud? We’re all beat from yesterday.”

Y/N’s heart gave a tiny lurch, but she kept her grin plastered on, leaning closer. Classic prank mode. “Okay, okay, I’ll keep it low-key. But you guys are hyped for today, right?”

Across the room, Woozi shot her a glance, his expression blank. “Hyped? Y/N, we’ve got a million things to do. Can you just… focus?”

The words stung, sharper than she expected, but she swallowed the hurt, her smile unwavering. They’re just tired. It’s fine. They’re setting me up. She bounced into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water, humming to herself to drown out the unease creeping in. It’s my 25th birthday. They wouldn’t forget.

The day’s schedule was relentless—rehearsals, a live stream, and a fan sign event that stretched into the evening. Y/N stayed her bubbly self, teasing the boys between takes, dropping playful hints about “special days” and “reasons to celebrate.” But each time, she was met with shrugs, eye rolls, or curt replies.

During a break at the studio, she sidled up to Dino, who was stretching nearby. “Hey, Chan, bet you’re planning something fun for later, huh?” she said, nudging him with a grin.

He frowned, wiping sweat off his brow. “Planning? Y/N, I’m just trying to survive this choreography. Give it a rest.”

Her laugh came out a little too loud, a little too forced. “Right, right, survive first, party later. Got it!”

But as the day wore on, the silence around her birthday grew heavier, like a weight pressing on her chest. No sneaky glances between the boys, no hushed giggles, no poorly hidden gift bags. Just exhaustion and indifference. By the time they dragged themselves back to the dorm late that night, Y/N’s hope was fraying, but she clung to it like a lifeline. Maybe now. Maybe they’re waiting to surprise me.

In the living room, she flopped onto the couch, still buzzing with forced energy. “Wow, what a day, huh? Perfect way to cap off… you know, something special?” she said, looking around at the boys, her voice bright but brittle.

Mingyu, kicking off his shoes, didn’t even glance her way. “Y/N, can you stop with the vague hints? It’s annoying.”

Her breath caught, the words slicing deeper than they should’ve. She opened her mouth to laugh it off, but Jeonghan cut in, his tone sharp as he headed for his room. “Seriously, we’re all tired. Not everything’s about you.”

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Y/N’s smile froze, her heart plummeting. She looked to Seungcheol, hoping for a softening glance, a hint that this was all part of the act, but he just shook his head, muttering, “Let’s just get some sleep,” before walking away.

One by one, the boys disappeared to their rooms, the sound of closing doors echoing in her ears. She sat there, alone in the dimly lit living room, her hands trembling in her lap. The silence was deafening now, no balloons, no cake, no laughter to break it. Just her, and the sinking realization that maybe, just maybe, they’d forgotten.

Her chest ached, hot tears pricking at her eyes, but she forced them back, her lips twitching into a shaky smile. No, it’s fine. It’s part of the plan. They’re messing with me. She thought of last year’s midnight surprise, of the year before when they’d turned her tears into laughter with a single confetti pop. They wouldn’t forget. Not my 25th.

She stood, her legs heavy, and shuffled to her room. Closing the door, she leaned against it, her smile faltering as the hurt clawed its way up her throat. Maybe tomorrow, she told herself, her voice barely a whisper. Maybe they’re planning something big, and this is just… the buildup. She climbed into bed, curling up under the covers, her heart bruised but stubborn. Y/N believed—no, she had to believe—it was all part of their plan.

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

April 13 dawned with a gray sky, the air heavy with the promise of another chaotic day. Y/N woke with a flicker of hope still burning in her chest, though it was weaker now, fragile like a candle in a storm. Maybe today, she thought, brushing her hair back and forcing a smile in the mirror. Maybe they’re waiting for the perfect moment. Yesterday’s silence had stung, but she’d convinced herself it was still part of Seventeen’s elaborate prank. They were masters at dragging out the suspense—she’d seen it before. Surely, her 25th birthday, a decade with these boys, wasn’t something they’d just… forget.

The dorm was a whirlwind of activity as the members rushed to get ready for another packed schedule—filming, interviews, and a late-night rehearsal. Y/N moved through the chaos, her smile bright but brittle, watching for any sign, any flicker of mischief in their eyes. She didn’t mention her birthday, didn’t dare disrupt whatever plan they might be hiding. She teased them lightly, keeping her tone playful, waiting for the moment they’d crack and the surprise would spill out.

“Big day today, huh, Cheollie oppa?” she said, leaning against the kitchen counter as Seungcheol stuffed a protein bar in his mouth.

“Big? That’s one way to put it,” he muttered, barely looking up from his phone. “We’re gonna be dead by tonight.”

Her smile wavered, but she pressed on, turning to Joshua, who was tying his shoes nearby. “Bet you’re excited for something today, right, Shua oppa?”

He shrugged, distracted. “Excited to maybe grab a coffee later, if we get a break. You good?”

“Never better!” she chirped, her voice a touch too high. They’re just tired. It’s fine. She clung to that thought as they piled into the van, her eyes scanning each member for a telltale smirk or a poorly hidden grin. But there was nothing—just exhaustion etched into their faces, their heads leaning against windows or buried in their phones.

The day was a blur of motion, one schedule bleeding into the next. Y/N threw herself into every task, laughing with fans during the signing event, nailing her choreography in rehearsal, all while keeping one ear open for a whispered “happy birthday” or a sudden burst of confetti. But the hours ticked by, and the silence grew louder, heavier, until it felt like a weight pressing on her ribs. No balloons. No cake. No knowing glances. Just another day to the boys, while to her, it was everything.

By the time they stumbled back to the dorm well past midnight, Y/N’s hope was fraying at the edges. Three days had passed since her birthday—three days of waiting, of smiling through the ache, of telling herself they wouldn’t forget. She lingered in the living room as the boys shuffled in, her heart still clinging to the idea of a late surprise. Maybe they’d been too busy yesterday, too swamped to pull it off. Maybe now, in the quiet of the dorm, they’d finally reveal the prank.

“Long day, huh?” she said softly, perched on the arm of the couch, looking at Vernon as he tossed his jacket onto a chair.

“Brutal,” he groaned, rubbing his neck. “I’m crashing. Night, Y/N.”

Her throat tightened. “Night,” she managed, her smile slipping as he disappeared down the hall. One by one, the others followed—muttered goodnights, tired waves, and the sound of doors clicking shut. No one paused, no one lingered, no one gave her that spark of recognition she’d been waiting for.

Alone in the living room, the silence was suffocating. Y/N’s mind raced, her thoughts spiraling. Do they actually forget? The idea felt impossible, unthinkable. They’d been together for a decade—thirteen boys who knew her better than anyone, who’d celebrated every milestone with her, who’d turned her birthdays into memories she’d cherish forever. She could understand one or two of them slipping up, maybe distracted by the chaos of their lives. But all thirteen? Acting like her 25th birthday was just another day? The hurt bloomed sharp and raw, slicing through the hope she’d held onto so tightly.

She wandered to her room, her steps slow, her chest heavy. Closing the door, she sank onto her bed, the silence wrapping around her like a cold embrace. Her smile finally crumbled, and hot tears spilled down her cheeks, quiet at first, then shuddering sobs she muffled into her pillow. How could they forget? she thought, her heart twisting. We’re a family. They’re my brothers. They wouldn’t just… forget. The memories of past birthdays—cakes smashed in her face, DK’s off-key serenades, Seungkwan’s dramatic gift reveals—felt like cruel ghosts now, taunting her with what this year lacked.

She curled up, wiping her eyes, her breath hitching. Maybe they’re still planning something. Maybe it’s bigger than I think. Even now, three days late, she couldn’t let go of the belief that they’d come through. They had to. They were Seventeen, her thirteen pillars, her home. She clung to that thought, fragile as it was, and whispered to herself in the dark, “They will not forget.” But the tears kept falling, and the doubt crept deeper, leaving her to wonder if this time, they really had.

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

Five days had passed since Y/N’s 25th birthday, and the silence from the boys was deafening. Not a single “happy birthday,” not a glance of guilt, not even a question about why she’d gone quiet. Y/N’s heart sank deeper with each day, the hurt festering into something raw and unbearable. She was sure now—they’d forgotten. Completely. The thirteen boys she called family, who she’d poured her soul into for a decade, had let her milestone birthday slip by like it was nothing.

It felt so unfair. Every year, Y/N was the first to greet each member on their birthday, no matter how grueling their schedule. She’d stay up late crafting heartfelt letters, scraping together her allowance for thoughtful gifts, planning surprises that made them laugh or tear up. For Seungkwan’s last birthday, she’d barely slept, decorating the dorm at 4 a.m. For Dino’s, she’d written a letter so long it took her hours, her hand cramping. But her birthday? Nothing. Not one of them had noticed her forced smiles, her quiet stares, her heart breaking in the spaces between their indifference.

The day ended like all the others—chaotic, exhausting, and empty of any acknowledgment. Back at the dorm, the boys trudged to their rooms without a word, doors slamming shut like nails in a coffin. Y/N stood in the living room, alone, her chest tight with resentment. Fine, she thought, her jaw clenching. If they don’t care, I’ll celebrate myself. It was five days late, but she wasn’t going to let her 25th birthday pass without something, even if it meant doing it alone.

She stormed to her room, ripping open her closet. Her fingers landed on a tight, shimmering party dress—bold, defiant, perfect. I’m going out, she decided, slipping it on, her reflection in the mirror fierce despite the ache in her eyes. They had no schedules tomorrow, so why not? She’d drown the hurt in music and alcohol, let the club’s chaos swallow her pain. No one would stop her—not that they’d even notice she was gone.

At the club, the bass pounded through her bones, and Y/N threw herself into it. The bartender, who’d seen her and the boys there before, recognized her instantly and kept the drinks coming—cocktails, shots, anything she wanted. She drank heavily, the burn of liquor dulling the sharpness in her chest. She danced, swaying under the flashing lights, losing herself in the crowd. For a while, it worked. She felt alive, untouchable, the hurt buried under layers of alcohol and rhythm.

But the drinks piled up, and soon her head was pounding, her vision blurring. She stumbled on the dance floor, giggling at nothing, her movements sloppy. The bartender watched with growing concern—she was far gone, her words slurring, her eyes unfocused. They tried talking to her, but she just laughed, waving them off. She’s too drunk, they thought, glancing at her phone on the counter. They didn’t know the dorm’s address, so they scrolled through her contacts, landing on Seungcheol’s name. He’s the leader, right?

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

Seungcheol was deep in sleep, the kind that felt like sinking into a void after weeks of exhaustion. His phone buzzed relentlessly, dragging him awake. He squinted at the screen—3 a.m., Y/N’s name flashing. Annoyance flared immediately. What the hell does she want now? He answered, ready to snap, but the voice wasn’t hers. It was a bartender, shouting over blaring music and chatter.

“Hey, this is the club on 5th. Y/N’s here, and she’s wasted—like, can’t even talk straight wasted. Keeps dancing, but we’re worried. Someone might recognize her, and she’s alone. Can you come get her?”

Seungcheol’s groan was guttural, his temper spiking. “Yeah, fine. I’m coming.” He ended the call, fury bubbling up. Why the hell would Y/N pull this now? Doesn’t she know we’re all barely functioning? He yanked on a hoodie, his mind racing with irritation. She was out causing a scene, risking their reputation, when they were all drowning in fatigue.

He stormed into Joshua’s room, flicking on the light. “Get up. Y/N’s drunk at some club, and we gotta go get her.”

Joshua blinked, confused but already moving. “What? Why’s she out there alone?”

“No idea, but I’m pissed,” Seungcheol snapped, then barged into Jeonghan’s room. “Jeonghan, up. Y/N’s causing trouble. Club. Now.”

Jeonghan groaned, rolling out of bed with a scowl. “Are you kidding me? What’s her deal?”

The three of them piled into a car, the drive tense and silent, each stewing in their own annoyance. At the club, the music hit them like a wall, the crowd a blur of bodies. They spotted Y/N instantly—swaying wildly on the dance floor, her tight dress catching every light, her face flushed and eyes glassy. She was a mess, and the sight only fueled their frustration.

Seungcheol pushed through the crowd, dropping his jacket over her shoulders. “Y/N, let’s go. Now.”

She laughed, shoving him away, her voice slurred. “Nooo, I’m having fun! Leave me alone!”

Joshua tried next, his tone gentle but firm. “Come on, Y/N, it’s late. You’re drunk. Let’s get you home.”

She swatted at him, stumbling. “I don’t need you! I’m fine!”

Jeonghan’s patience, usually endless, was fraying. He stepped closer, his jaw tight. “Y/N, stop it. You’re making a scene. Let’s go.”

She pushed him too, her movements clumsy but defiant. “You don’t get to tell me what to do!”

Seungcheol’s temper snapped. He scooped her up in one motion, ignoring her protests, her fists weakly hitting his back. “Enough. We’re leaving.” Jeonghan and Joshua flanked him, draping their jackets over her to shield her from prying eyes, their faces set in grim irritation. She was wearing that damn dress, and they weren’t about to let anyone snap a photo that could haunt them later.

Back at the dorm, they dropped her onto the couch, her body slumping as she mumbled incoherently. The noise had woken the others, and soon the living room was crowded with sleepy, annoyed faces—Jun rubbing his eyes, Mingyu frowning, Wonwoo looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Seungcheol stood over her, hands on his hips, his voice sharp.

“What the hell were you thinking, Y/N? Going out alone, getting trashed like that? What if someone recognized you? You know how much trouble that could’ve caused?”

Jeonghan crossed his arms, his usual calm replaced by a scowl. “We’re exhausted, Y/N. We don’t have time to babysit you when you pull stunts like this.”

Joshua, softer but still firm, chimed in. “You could’ve gotten hurt. Why didn’t you just stay here?”

The others piled on, their voices overlapping, each one laced with frustration. “Do you know how hard we’re working right now?” Mingyu snapped. “And you go make things worse?”

“What even got into you?” Seungkwan added, shaking his head. “We’d all have to clean up your mess if this got out.”

Y/N stirred, her head lolling as she let out a bitter, drunken chuckle. She pushed herself up, swaying, her eyes blazing through the haze of alcohol. She pointed a shaky finger at them, tears streaming down her face as her voice cracked with raw hurt.

“You… you… all of you!” she slurred, her gaze sweeping the room. “You forgot my 25th birthday! Five days ago! Not one of you said a word! Not one of you asked why I’m quiet, why I’m like this!” She stumbled, catching herself on the couch, her sobs breaking free. “I’m always there for you! Every birthday, every single one, I’m up at midnight, writing letters, getting gifts, making you feel special! Even when I’m dead tired! But you… you thirteen… you just forgot me!”

Her voice rose, trembling with pain. “A decade together, and you didn’t even notice! You just cared about sleep, about schedules, about everything but me!” She collapsed back onto the couch, her body giving out, tears pouring as she mumbled, “My 25th… and you didn’t care…” Her words faded into soft, broken sobs, her head dropping as she passed out, tears still glistening on her cheeks.

The room froze, the air thick with a silence that crushed them all. Seungcheol’s anger drained away, replaced by a sickening realization. Joshua’s eyes widened, his hand covering his mouth. Jeonghan stared at the floor, his jaw tight. One by one, they pieced it together—April 12, six days ago. Y/N’s birthday. The day they’d been too tired to notice, too buried in their own exhaustion to remember.

Minghao whispered, “Oh no… we forgot.”

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, his voice small. “How did we… all of us?”

Woozi’s face was pale, his usual stoicism gone. “She loves birthdays. She always makes ours huge. And we…”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, guilt settling like lead in his chest. They’d fucked up—badly. They knew how much Y/N poured into their birthdays, how she lit up at celebrations, how she made every moment count. And they’d let hers pass without a single thought.

Jeonghan moved first, kneeling beside her, gently brushing her hair back. “We need to get her to bed,” he said quietly, his voice heavy. Seungcheol nodded, lifting her carefully, her body limp in his arms. They carried her to her room, tucking her in as her tears dried on her face, her breathing uneven even in sleep.

Back in the living room, the silence lingered, each member lost in their own guilt. “How do we fix this?” Joshua asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We can’t undo it,” Woozi said, his tone flat but pained. “But we have to do something. She deserves that much.”

They sat there, thirteen brothers who’d failed their sister, knowing they’d broken something precious—and unsure if they could ever make it right.

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

The next morning, Y/N woke to a pounding headache and a heart that felt like it had been trampled. Her room was dim, the curtains still drawn, and the events of last night crashed over her like a wave. She remembered everything—her drunken outburst, the tears, the way she’d pointed at each of them, spilling her hurt. And their faces. Not concern, not guilt, but irritation, exhaustion, annoyance. The memory burned, twisting the knife deeper. She lay there, her makeup smudged and streaked, still in the tight party dress that now felt like a costume for a night she wished she could erase.

She dragged herself to the mirror, wincing at her reflection—mascara tracks down her cheeks, lipstick smeared, hair a tangled mess. Pathetic, she thought, her throat tightening. A shower was the only thing that made sense. She stood under the hot water, letting it wash away the makeup, the sweat, the lingering scent of alcohol, but it couldn’t touch the ache in her chest. She felt hollow, betrayed by the thirteen people she’d trusted most. They hadn’t cared about her last night—not really. All they’d worried about was the group’s reputation, the headlines that could’ve followed if someone had recognized her. “What if someone saw you?” Seungcheol’s voice echoed in her mind. “We’re tired, Y/N.” Not once had they asked if she was okay.

Back in her room, she pulled on an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, her stomach growling but her pride too bruised to face the kitchen. She was hungry, but the thought of seeing them, of pretending everything was fine, made her sick. She curled up on her bed, staring at the wall, the hurt festering into anger. A decade together, she thought, tears stinging her eyes. I’ve given them everything—every birthday, every late night, every moment I had. And they couldn’t even remember mine. The unfairness of it choked her, and she buried her face in her pillow, willing herself not to cry again. But the tears came anyway, silent and bitter.

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

Meanwhile, the dorm was stirring with a different kind of energy. Jun, Minghao, and Wonwoo were the first awake, gathered in the kitchen, their voices low as they replayed last night. Y/N’s words hung heavy in the air, each one a dagger they couldn’t dodge. “You forgot my 25th birthday… not one of you asked why I’m quiet…” The guilt was suffocating, and the sight of her closed door down the hall felt like a silent accusation.

“How did we let this happen?” Jun asked, his voice quiet, his hands fidgeting with a coffee mug. “All thirteen of us. Not one of us remembered.”

Minghao sighed, leaning against the counter, his usual calm frayed. “She’s always the one who makes our birthdays special. The letters, the gifts… and we couldn’t even give her a damn ‘happy birthday.’”

Wonwoo stared at the floor, his jaw tight. “She was crying last night. Drunk, sure, but those weren’t just drunk tears. We hurt her. Badly.”

The others trickled in, each face etched with the same shame. Seungcheol rubbed his eyes, looking like he hadn’t slept. Jeonghan sat at the table, unusually silent. Even Hoshi, always the spark of energy, was subdued, his shoulders slumped. They all glanced at Y/N’s door, the weight of their failure settling deeper.

“We can’t undo it,” Seungcheol said finally, his voice rough. “Her birthday’s gone. But we have to do something. We owe her that.”

Minghao nodded, grabbing his jacket. “Jun and I will get a cake. Something she’d love—chocolate, with those little sprinkles she always picks off and eats last.”

“I’ll handle food,” Mingyu said, already pulling out his phone to order her favorites—fried chicken, tteokbokki, that spicy ramen she could never resist. “We’ll cook, too. Make it a spread.”

“Gifts,” Joshua added, glancing around. “We’ll each get her something. Doesn’t have to be big, just… personal. Something that shows we know her.”

They split up, a quiet determination driving them. They knew it wouldn’t erase the hurt, wouldn’t change the fact that they’d fucked up in a way that cut deep. But they had to try. Y/N wasn’t just a member—she was their sister, their heart, and they’d let her down.

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

Hours later, the dorm was transformed. The living room was filled with the smell of food, a chocolate cake with sprinkles sitting proudly on the table, balloons tied to the chairs despite the late celebration. Gifts were piled in a corner—small boxes, handwritten notes, things they’d scrambled to find that screamed Y/N. A playlist of her favorite songs played softly, curated by Woozi, who’d spent an hour agonizing over the order.

But Y/N’s door stayed closed. The boys exchanged glances, the silence heavy. Finally, Seungcheol approached, knocking gently. “Y/N? Can you come out? We… we need to talk.”

No response. He knocked again, his voice softer. “Please, Y/N. Just… give us a chance.”

Inside, Y/N sat up, her heart pounding. She wanted to stay hidden, to nurse her anger, but something in his tone—raw, almost broken—pulled at her. She wiped her eyes, steeling herself, and opened the door. The sight hit her like a punch: the boys standing in a loose circle, the cake, the food, the gifts. Her breath caught, but she crossed her arms, her face guarded.

“What’s this?” she asked, her voice flat, though it wavered at the edges.

Seungcheol stepped forward, his eyes searching hers. “We fucked up, Y/N. We forgot your birthday—your 25th. There’s no excuse for that.”

Jeonghan joined him, his usual smirk gone, replaced by raw sincerity. “You’ve always been there for us, every single time. Your letters, your gifts, the way you make us feel like we’re the only ones who matter. And we… we let you down.”

Her lips trembled, but she held her ground, the hurt still raw. “Five days,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Six now. Not one of you noticed. Not one of you asked why I was quiet, why I was… breaking.”

Mingyu’s voice broke as he spoke, his eyes glassy. “We were so caught up in ourselves, in being tired, that we didn’t see you. And last night… we weren’t worried about you, not like we should’ve been. We were assholes, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

The tears she’d fought all day spilled over, hot and unstoppable. “I tried so hard to believe you didn’t forget,” she choked out, her voice shaking. “I kept smiling, waiting for the surprise, telling myself you were planning something. But you didn’t. You just… forgot. After ten years, how could you all forget?”

Hoshi stepped closer, his own eyes red. “We don’t deserve your forgiveness, not after this. But you’re our family, Y/N. We love you. We were stupid, blind, but we love you.”

She sobbed, her knees buckling, and Joshua caught her, pulling her into a hug. “We’ll spend every day making this up to you,” he murmured, his voice thick. “We promise.”

One by one, they joined, surrounding her in a group embrace, their apologies overlapping—Seungkwan’s shaky “I should’ve known”, Dino’s quiet “You deserve better”, Woozi’s hoarse “I’ll never let this happen again”. Y/N cried into their arms, the hurt pouring out, but their warmth, their voices, started to stitch something back together. It wasn’t fixed—not yet—but it was a start.

They pulled back, guiding her to the table. Minghao lit the candles on the cake, his smile soft. “It’s late, but… happy birthday, Y/N.”

She stared at the flickering flames, her heart a mess of pain and tentative hope. She blew them out, her wish simple: Let us heal. The boys cheered, but it was gentle, their eyes still heavy with guilt. They ate, laughed, handed her gifts—a bracelet from Vernon, a journal from Wonwoo, a goofy plushie from DK that made her smile through tears. Each note, each gesture, was a step toward reconciliation, a promise to never let her feel invisible again.

As the night wound down, Y/N looked at them, her family, and felt the first flicker of forgiveness. It would take time, but they were hers, and she was theirs. And that, at least, was worth fighting for.

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

an: Hi Anon, sorry this is late, but belated happy birthday to you! I hope you'll have a great year!🎂🎉🫶🏻

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rie-092 · 6 months ago

Note

heyy :)) hope you have a good day!! can i req for your event for rezef hill with the lyrics number 7?

EVENT'S ENTRY OO3 : MAD HATTER

[ yandere! rezef hill ]

note: here's the link of the event!

(⁠☞ﾟ⁠∀ﾟ⁠)⁠☞ ( link )

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

rezef hill doesn't have anything that he can call his.

the palace, his status, and the wealth that he had. nothing of it was his. and that's the main reason why he was trying his best to protect it from the people who were trying to get it from him.

well, that changed when he met you.

a knight that was assigned to him by the emperor himself. he doesn't know the reason. but he found himself really offended when you got assigned to him.

you were the weakest out of all the nights. hell, everyone was even making fun of you!

is this his “father's” another way to make fun of him? or to keep an eye on his palace?

no, no. that's impossible. since you look too dumb and weak to be a spy.

and that was when rezef decided to keep an eye on you. by making sure that you were always around him. and that you won't have a chance to report to his father if ever.

maybe because of that, he started to notice your little habits and mannerisms. like how you always unconsciously hum a song whenever you were lost in your thoughts, the way to chew your lowerlip whenever you were thinking. your obsession with sweet things. and how you practice your swordsmanship more than anyone else.

yeah.... there's no way you were a spy.... hell, you're even too dumb to be an assassin! so.... why? he started to become confused and intrigued about you and the reason why you chose someone like him as your liege.

so, he asked you face to face. if you were his father's or another noble's spy. with a gun pointed in your head, you calmly answered him with a simple word. no. you were not anyone's spy. and you also said that it'll be impossible for you to be someone's spy when you were his knight.

and boy! wrong move! because when you said the word ‘his’, you noticed how surprised he was.

but— no! he wasn't touched or anything! he was delighted because after all this years—! he finally have something that he can call his!

i don't see rezef as a soft yandere, to be honest.

this guy is a two-faced when it comes to you. when you're around him he was kind, but when you're not around— ah, he was the most violent guy that you'll ever know.

but, you see— on yandere! rezef hill's eyes. you were born to be his. and the reason why you're alive is to serve him, to adore him, to be his forever. so, don't worry— he'll take care of you, so remain as his unaware but kind knight, okay?

expect that rezef is a jealous guy.

because when he saw you with raffaello, the one who taught you everything that you know about swordsmanship and academics itself. this guy lost his mind.

he didn't care if you were talking to them. he didn't care if cayena was there. he dragged you out without looking back. he didn't even listen to your pleas to let you go. because the only thing that was going on into his mind was the way you smile at raffaello. like he was the only thing mattered to you — you were his! you told it yourself! so don't go smiling like that to other people!

and once the two of you arrived in the secluded space. he suddenly took out his gun. which surprised you— then he shot you on your shoulder and knee.

but don't worry, it wasn't fatal. but it was enough to surprise you and hurt you. to remind you of your place.

ah, look at his beloved knight. his beloved ( name ). bloodied, teary and scared. and his. how adorable.

but what made him smile as he whispered those sweet words in your ears was the question that you asked him.

“ have you gone crazy, your highness? ”

oh, dear. he was always crazy.

but you only made it worse. so careful, because if you made one wrong move, this guy won't hesitate to use violence to you and the people around you.

because you were his, after all.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

“ you think i'm crazy, ( name )? well, that's not fair when you were the reason why i am like this. ”

#manhwa x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere x y/n #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere manhwa #tw.yandere #tw. obsession #tw. violence #tw.dark content #idk what else to tag #imagine #happy 2k!#grammatical errors ahead!

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linearities · 5 months ago

Text

ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ ✧ NASTY ｡｡｡

talking back never did any favors, did it? now seonghwa will have to shut you up in some other way.

this fanfiction is part of my birthday event.

pairing: mean dom!seonghwa x sub!reader

genre: smut

warnings: 18+ ONLY!! MINORS DNI!!!! finger sucking, p in v, dacryphilia, mean seonghwa, choking, name calling (slut, brat, good girl), raw sex (don't do it!!!), pull out method, aftercare!!!!

notes: shoutout to the birthday bitch! (me) (my birthday was yesterday and i forgot to post)

masterlist · taglist form

divider here.

drool oozed down your chin as seonghwa thrusted his fingers in your mouth, piercing you with his intense gaze. his platinum blonde hair stuck to his forehead in sweat, his throbbing length shoved inside you for the past minutes barely moving as a punishment for talking back on him. he had to teach you how to put that pretty mouth of yours to good use.

“don't have much to say now, do you, slut?” he mocked, watching as you sucked on his fingers like your life depended on it, “talking back like that, did i not discipline you properly?”

you whimpered, a moan slipping past your lips as he pulled his fingers away with a low ’pop!’ echoing in the room. his hand slid down to your throat, squeezing it in a way that had you rolling your eyes back. his hips met yours in a forceful thrust, a gasp turning into a moan, then a yelp, then a cry, with seonghwa pouncing on you like a fucking predator.

the sound of skin slapping against skin, your shrieks and moans, everything so deeply obscene that it made you forget how you had to work tomorrow. your whole body pulsed and shivered, your breath becoming ragged and shallow, eyes about to flutter close. you were about to come, and seonghwa knew it. his free hand came to rub and flick on your clit, making your body writh and arch underneath him.

“you gonna cum for me?” seonghwa growled, smirking in your direction, “you gonna cum for me, you fucking brat?”

you nodded furiously, blushing and sobbing as he squeezed your throat a bit more. and it was the lack of air, the lack of breath that brought you to your high, hands coming to grasp on his wrist as you drowned in that wave of pleasure. seonghwa didn’t stop once, riding out your pleasure with his thrusts and his own release, pulling out just to stroke himself a few times and let his cum fall in thick ropes on the soft, sweaty skin of your belly.

he let go of your throat, the imprint of his fingers slightly marking your skin beautifully. collapsing by your side, he was quick to scoop you on his arms, kissing your teary eyes and stained cheeks as he cooed the soft lingering sobs that left you.

“good girl. don’t want you ever disobeying again, yeah? you promise?” hwa mumbled against your skin, kissing and soothing his handprint on your neck. you nodded in a shallow promise, both knowing how you’d break it as soon as you saw the opportunity.

“good. now let’s get you a shower, hm?”

hi pookies!!! i'm officially 21 now!!! thank you for being here, love love all of you!!! thank you for reading and I'll see you next time! <33

xoxo, meggie.

taglist: @parakisss @kyeos4ng @irsmaxle @eixila @atztrsr @innocygnet @juicyjaxxy @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @jerseygirlzzzxx @wisejudgedragonhairdo @nanime-roality @yunhoslefto3 @tearsdntfall617 @roxhanah @atztrsr @innocygnet @sasaloveshj @jinternationalplayboy @svzllts @crimsonbubble @igoiguor

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wwooyology · 1 year ago

Text

Crazed Nights | K.SN & Y.JW

「parings」 : sunoo x fem!reader x jungwon 「word count」 : 7.1k

「synopsis」 : after being ghosted by the guy you were seeing, you went out to a bar with your friends, getting drunk off your ass. however, the last people you had expected to run into were two of your brother's best friends, two that you had a huge crush on at that. they were just going to take you home, but what if the alcohol gives you a little more courage than you had expected?

「genre」 : smut, brother's best friend(s) troupe, threesome

「warning」 : threesome, unprotected sex (big no-no), oral (m. & f. receiving), face sitting, biting/marking, dubcon(?), all three are slightly intoxicated, cussing, alcohol/drinking, teasing, dom!sunoo x sub!reader x dom!jungwon, praising, degradation, making out, cum eating, face fucking, riding, creampies, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, clit play, petnames (baby, princess, pretty, slut...), slight choking, begging, slight manhandling, implications of multiple rounds, lmk if I missed anything!

「notes」 : I got this idea from reading something a few days ago and knew I wanted to write it out, just didn't know which pair to use. after some consideration and asking friends I decided on pocketz. now, I can't tell you why I chose them exactly, just that it seemed fitting to me, and tbh, I've had bad sunwon brainrot since this past weekend... I also got a little carried away with the word count... n e who... I hope you enjoy this!

“I swear I’m never dating another man again,” you cried out as you downed your nth shot of soju. Dayeon and Wonyoung sat on the opposite side of the table, looking at you with a mixture of annoyed and concerned gazes.

“Is she seriously drunk already?” Dayeon sighed, downing a shot of soju herself. Wonyoung just shook her head, mumbling about how she knew going out would be a bad idea, especially when they knew you couldn’t hold your liquor very well.

“I can’t believe he took me on two dates and we even made out just to tell me that I wasn’t his type.” You exclaimed, tears brimming in your eyes. “TWO FUCKING DATES!” Your voice raised a few notches, causing both of the girls to jump, instantly trying to shush you. “How can someone be so heartless?”

“That was pretty mean of him to do.” Wonyoung agreed, swirling the small shot glass in her hand, while Dayeon nodded in agreement.

“Right!” You exclaimed once more, and Dayeon scolded you for being far too loud, but you just pouted, slumping down in your seat.

Dayeon then grabbed your bowl, which still sat empty in the middle of the table, as well as the ladle. “Hey, y/n. Eat some of this before you drink anymore.” She scooped some of the hotpot that sat in the center of the table. " You’ll end up hugging a toilet all night if you drink on an empty stomach.”

Tears poured out of your eyes. " Thank you, Dayeon…” You grabbed the bowl, staring down at the broth inside. You weren’t sure why the simple gesture that she had done so many times was making you so emotional. Maybe it was all of the events that had previously taken place. Or maybe it was just the alcohol that was in your system.

“Yeah, and don’t dwell on Junmin. He was a prick!” Wonyoung reassured you as she sat a glass of water in front of you, hoping to sober you up at least a little bit.

“BUT I LIKED HIM!” Your outburst drew the attention of those around you, “I LIKED HIM, THAT’S WHY I DIDN’T CARE THAT HE WAS A VIR-”

“SHUT THE HELL UP DUMBASS!” Dayeon reached across the table, grabbing your cheeks and muffling your shouts while Wonyoung looked around the bar with a nervous gaze.

All of your movements stopped, and your teary eyes looked up to meet Dayeon’s annoyed ones before flickering down to Wonyoung, who had slid off of her chair onto her knees in embarrassment. You didn’t have to look any further to know that you had caught the attention of those around you. The feeling of eyes on you was too heavy to ignore. You let your body slide down the chair in embarrassment as Dayeon’s hand fell from your face, eyes looking around.

“No one heard that, right?” You mumbled, too ashamed to look around yourself. Your face grew even warmer when you noticed the uneasy looks on both of your friends' faces, the heat making you feel lightheaded and dizzy. So you slumped forward, resting your forehead on the cool wooden table, arms hanging off at your sides.

“Jeez, you really have no filter when you drink.” Dayeon groaned, sitting back in her seat while Wonyoung followed suit, running her fingers through her hair. Deyeon then grabbed a napkin from the center of the table, wiping her hand of any tears, snot, and/or saliva that had gotten on her skin from when she grabbed you. You just mumbled incoherently into the surface of the table, completely missing the two figures that had walked up to the table.

“Uh, excuse me… hi?” Jungwon was the first to speak, Sunoo not too far behind him. His eyes were fixated on you, taken in your drunk form. Even from a mile away, he could recognize your unkempt hair because you refused to put it up before doing anything, claiming that it ‘hurt your scalp.’

“Yes?” Wonyoung and Dayeon both looked up at the two males, eyes looking them up and down. If they didn’t know any better, they would have thought they were going to ask you three to join them. Wonyoung’s eyes then shifted over to the table they had come from, seeing one dude passed out on the table while the other stayed unbothered on his phone, completely uninterested.

“Would you happen to” “Yeah, no thanks,” Wonyoung cut the boy off before he even had a chance to finish his sentence, catching both Jungwon and Sunoo off guard.

“Sorry?” Jungwon blinked a few times. Had they misunderstood him?

“We don’t want to join you, plus she’s drunk out of her mind.” Dayeon deadpanned, jabbing a finger in your direction. You were still in your own little world, telling the table stories that were far from comprehensible.

Jungwon’s eyes then widened in realization, his hands waving around frantically, assuring them that’s not what he wanted, “No, no, we were just wondering if you were Wonyoung and Dayeon? Y/n’s friends?” He asked, his finger hesitantly pointing in your direction.

Your ears stopped ringing just in time to hear your name roll off of Jungwon’s tongue, lifting your head at the familiar voice. A chill went down your spine when you met both of their eyes, suddenly feeling sober. Of course, you just had to run into your brother’s friends, not just any of his friends, though. The two that you have had a raging crush on for the majority of your childhood.

You felt heat rush up your neck as you flung yourself backward, regretting it instantly, “Fuck me in the ass! Of all the people to meet here, it just had to be you two.” White flashed across your vision making you groan, bringing a hand to cover your eyes.

Sunoo then walked over to your embarrassed form, making sure you weren’t going to fall out of your chair. Jungwon’s eyes followed the older of the two, but the feeling of eyes on him made him look back over, meeting Dayeon and Wonyoung’s confused looks.

“Oh! We’re friends of y/n’s brother…” Jungwon laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“Really? Nice to meet you!” Wonyoung exclaimed while Dayeon bowed in greeting, “We didn’t realize that the two of you were y/n’s friends.”

You whined, mumbling how unlucky you had become, wishing that the ground would just swallow you whole. Sunoo reached over, placing his hand over your forehead, making you jump. His fingers were cold against your burning skin, but despite that fact, it only caused your face to heat up even more, your brain short-circuiting at the contact. Sunoo’s eyes moved from your figure, meeting Wonyoung and Dayeon’s.

“Why is she so drunk?” He asked, removing his hand from your face not missing the way your shoulders relaxed at the loss of contact. He had to fight the urge to roll his eyes; even in your drunken state, you wanted nothing to do with them.

Dayeon leaned forward, resting her head in the palm of her hand propped up on the table. " The guy she was seeing ditched her,” she said.

“Ah, so that’s what all that yelling about a virgin was…” Sunoo mused, and you lifted your head, looking up at him with wide eyes while the two other girls groaned. His eyes flickered down to you, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

“Man, Jay would get so pissed if he found out. He’d flip his shit and go after that guy.” Jungwon sighed, causing both Wonyoung and Dayeon to visibly stiffen, “and if he found out y/n got drunk, he’d raise absolute hell.” He sweatdropped, arms crossed over his chest, and Sunoo’s lip twitched in nervousness.

They both knew how overprotective Jay could be, especially over his little sister, and god forbid they did nothing. It would be safe to say that they wouldn’t live to see the light of another day.

During all of the small talk, your head lolled forward, and your face planted into the table once more. Dayeon had to stifle a laugh while Wonyoung was too busy panicking that Jay could find out that they had let you get drunk.

Sunoo pulled your chair out to help you up, but you didn’t budge, dragging your face along the surface of the table. However, before you could flop to the ground, he wrapped his arm around your chest, pulling you back. Jungwon then walked over to help the older male pick your body up off of the chair.

“Come on, y/n. Wake up. We’re going to take you home,” Jungwon grumbled as he tried to pull you to your feet.

Wonyoung rubbed her temples when you started having a hissy fit about going home, but you were quickly silenced when Sunoo mentioned your brother. A pout formed on your lips as you slumped onto Sunoo’s back, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck. The smell of his calonge instantly invaded your senses, making your head spin and your stomach churn.

“I feel like I'm going to be sick…” You mumbled quietly as you buried your face in Sunoo’s neck, which only strengthened the scent, but you couldn’t pull yourself away. Slowly getting high off of his scent, the slight citrusy smell was making your brain spiral.

“I swear to god you throw up on me; I will not hesitate to throw your ass.” Sunoo threatened, but his shoulders went stiff when he felt your nose brush against his neck. He became acutely aware of just how close the two of your bodies were at that moment. Your boobs pressed against his back, his hands wrapped securely under your plush thighs. He bit the inside of his cheek to try and keep a level head, but it was futile as he felt his dick twitch in his jeans.

Jungwon couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy seeing you so close to Sunoo. Though he told himself that it was just because you were drunk, that as soon as you were sober, you would yell at them for barging in on your night out.

Biting back a sigh, he turned towards the two girls who were watching them, “Well, we’ll be going now. I’ll leave a note reminding her to message when she wakes up.” Both of them nodded, waving softly.

They watched as the two men walked out of the bar with you before it finally dawned on them what just happened. Dayeon groaned, throwing her head back while Wonyoung scrambled to find her phone.

“Did we seriously just let two strangers walk out of here with y/n?” Wonyoung panicked as she quickly pulled up her socials, tapping on the search bar. Dayeon tilted her head slightly, looking over at the blonde who was sitting next to her. As calm as she may seem, she was freaking out on the inside because she knew they would both be dead meat if anything happened to you and Jay were to find out.

Not even five minutes later Wonyoung melted into her chair, placing her phone down on the table. “Thank god… they’re really his friends.”

About halfway back to your apartment, Jungwon had offered to take you and as much as Sunoo wanted to say that he was fine. He wasn’t. His will slowly break every time your fingers caress his chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Or the way your foot brushes against his crotch. He was starting to go insane.

So he let Jungwon take over, helping move you to the younger’s back. You protested at first but were quick to go silent again when your face fell into Jungwon’s neck. Your whole body tingled when his fingers grazed a little too close to your barely-covered core.

“You okay?” Jungwon asked when Sunoo’s breath hitched in his throat. The reason being that when he backed away from your body after making sure Jungwon had a good hold on you, he could clearly see your lace baby blue panties.

Sunoo quickly cleared his throat before reaching out and pulling your dress down. " Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.” With that, the two of them continued to walk down the dimly lit sidewalk. Thankfully, there weren’t very many people out and about, so they weren’t getting suspicious or weird stares.

You had woken up about ten minutes away from your apartment, your head was a bit clearer, but you were still surprised when you found yourself on Jungwon’s back. You nearly flew off of his back in surprise, causing Jungwon to stumble, but thankfully he was able to balance himself.

“Hey! Stop moving around, or I’ll drop you,” Jungwon exclaimed, his grip on your thighs getting tighter. A small squeak left your lips at the sensation, his fingertips grazing the inside of your thigh.

“Put me down! Where do you think you’re taking me?!” you exclaimed, arms flailing around. Even though your head still felt a little dizzy, you were sure that small nap had sobered you up. However, neither Sunoo nor Jungwon were dumb enough to put you down. You’d just run, and with their luck, you’d get hit by a car or something.

At first, the two ignored your whining and continued walking, but when you almost caused the three of you to fall backward down the stairs, Sunoo had enough.

“Y/n.” The tone in his voice sent a shiver down your spine and heat rushing to your core. You stopped struggling in Jungwon’s grip, causing the younger male to let out a sigh of relief. A small pout formed on your plump lips, and Sunoo had to damn near pinch himself to keep from kissing you until they were swollen.

“You guys are bullies,” you whined, shoveling your face into the crook of Jungwon’s neck. His scent, much like Sunoo’s, intoxicated you—so much so that you pressed your nose against the warm skin of his neck, inhaling deeply. “Wonnie, you smell so good.”

The poor boy could have sworn he felt his heart stop and heat rushed up his neck. His grip tightened even more on your legs as the three of you stood outside of your apartment. Sunoo noticed that Jungwon’s face was more flush before seeing you nuzzling into his neck.

“Dammit… isn’t Jay off on a trip somewhere?” Jungwon swallowed thickly, trying to ignore how you leaned more into him. He could smell your strawberry lotion mixed with the alcohol that you had drunk earlier.

“Fuck, yeah. Do you know the code?” Sunoo groaned, his eyes falling back on you. Meeting your eyes as you looked up at him from Jungwon’s neck. He could feel his dick twitch in the confines of his jeans when he saw how lust-blown-out your eyes had become. He wasn’t going to be able to keep his composure at this point. He needed to get you inside and in bed before anything happened.

“Oh uhh, I’m pretty sure it’s eight, two, thre- hey y/n stop that!” He warned when he felt your lips press against the skin right under his ear. His will was only holding on by a strand, and much like Sunoo, he wanted to get you inside before anything happened.

You weren’t even sure what had come over you, but you did know that Jungwon’s scent and his touch left you more drunk than any of the alcohol you had. You could blame the alcohol that was still in your system for your bold moves, but you were sober enough to know what you were doing. Both of your brother’s friends were taking you home, the very home where the three of you would be alone. You’d be a fool to not take advantage of it.

So, as soon as Sunoo managed to open the door and all three of you were inside, you straightened up a little bit. Thinking you were about to try and jump out of his arms, Jungwon opened his mouth to protest but was cut off when you ran your fingers through his hair far enough to get a good grip before pulling his head to the side so you could latch your lips to his neck. It all happened way too fast for Jungwon to stop it.

“Hey! Y/N, stop. We need to get you to bed.” His voice shook, catching Sunoo’s attention. As soon as he saw you, his eyes grew wide.

Jungwon’s face was cherry red, his eyebrows scrunched together due to your lips and the grip you had on his hair. His fingers were digging into your thigh, probably tight enough to leave bruises. He was scared to move, knowing he would fold the instant he tried to.

“Come on, her room is back here.” Sunoo coughed, covering his lower face trying to hide the blush that had taken over his cheeks.

However, before Jungwon could step further into the apartment, your voice cut him off. Your words sent his mind reeling.

“Won’t you fuck me, Wonnie?” Your voice was raspy from attacking his neck like a starved wolf, “I know you want to.” Your heel-clad foot brushed against his growing erection, causing him to hiss.

Hearing your words made Sunoo stop dead in his tracks, turning to face you and Jungwon. Sunoo’s gaze had turned dark, pupils blown wide. It scared Jungwon a bit, but the feeling of your lips on his skin once more and your foot pressing against his hard-on was making it hard to care.

“Won put her down.” Sunoo’s tone left little to no room for discussion, so Jungwon untangled your legs before setting you on your feet. You whined in protest, ready to latch yourself to Jungwon once more, but Sunoo was quicker. In a few quick strides, he was standing in front of your smaller frame, your chin nestled between his thumb and forefinger. His face is close enough to yours that you could feel his warm breath fanning your lips. “Are you really that much of a desperate slut that you’re willing to throw yourself at your brother's friends?”

His words made your breath hitch in your throat, but the name didn’t hurt your feelings. No, if anything, it left you dripping more in your panties. Your eyes searched his darker ones, trying to find the words to say. You wanted to make a lie and just say yes that you were willing to just throw yourself at them because you were so pent up, but in reality, you just wanted them. Both. If it was any of Jay’s other friends you wouldn’t have enough thought about doing what you did to Jungwon.

Not getting a response from you, Sunoo clicked his tongue before pulling your face closer to his. He watched in amusement as your eyes fluttered close as his lips ghosted over yours. You then mumbled something he didn’t quite catch.

“You’re gonna have to speak up, princess.” He grumbled against your lips, causing you to open your eyes. Your pupils were blown out to the point that hardly any of your iris was visible.

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, “If wanting the both of you makes me desperate,” Your eyes flickered over to Jungwon, who was standing no more than two feet away, “Then I am very desperate.”

In a matter of minutes, Sunoo had your back pressed against the cushions of the couch, his lips attached to your neck. Biting and sucking before dragging his tongue along the wounded area, the feeling making you squirm.

“Sunoo… we shouldn’t be doing this; none of us are sober.” Jungwon panicked because as much as he wanted to sink his dick so deep into your cunt he knew it was wrong for multiple reasons.

“I’m completely sober, Won, have-” A squeak cut you off as Sunoo’s hand squeezed your thigh roughly, “I have been since I woke up earlier.” Your head then fell back when Sunoo ground his hips against yours, pressing his hardened erection against your clothed cunt.

Jungwon stood there fidgeting, conflicted about what to do. On one hand, you did say you were sober, but on the other hand, you were his friend's sister. However, when Sunoo pulled away from your neck to look back at him, he could have sworn his soul had left his body.

“You either join us, or you can leave; the choice is yours, Jungwon.” Sunoo’s voice was deep and husky, making your head spin and your pussy clench around nothing.

Jungwon then threw all caution to the wind. When would he get the chance to do this again, especially with the girl he had been crushing on for the past three years? He made quick work of his jacket, pulling it off his body and throwing it somewhere in the room.

Sunoo smirked before facing you once more, “See that princess, Wonnie is gonna join us.” His fingers that had been resting on your thigh trailed up until he brushed against your clothed pussy. A whine fell from your lips, and your hips bucked up into his touch, causing him to chuckle. “God, you’re so cute but so fucking sexy at the same time.” He bit down on the junction of your neck as his fingers pressed against your pussy. “And you’re so fucking wet, you’re soaking your underwear.”

You let out a choked whine, covering your face, but Sunoo was quick to grab your wrists, pinning them next to your head. Tears brimmed your waterline, and Sunoo could have sworn he could cum at the sight alone. His eyes then trailed up to the awkward male who was just standing there.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, princess; you’re going to suck Won off while I devour this pretty cunt of yours.” He smirked, leaning down to your face, ghosting his lips over yours once more, “You’ll do that for us, won’t you?” You were quick to nod, but Sunoo just hummed, “I want words, princess.”

“Yes, please.” The tears in your eyes built up more due to how pent up you felt, you just wanted them to touch you, do something. Anything. So you shifted your eyes from Sunoo’s to Jungwon’s, who had pulled off his shirt, leaving you a good view of his toned torso. “I wanna suck Wonnie’s cock while you eat me out, please, Sun-” Before you could even finish your sentence, Sunoo had his lips on yours.

The kiss was full of hunger and need, but the force was almost bruising, leaving you breathless when he pulled you to sit up. His hands make quick work of your dress and bra, throwing them off to an unknown location in the living room. Then his lips were back on your, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head back to deepen the kiss. His eyes then looked over at the younger male. It didn’t take a genius for Jungwon to figure out what he was saying, so he quickly shed the rest of his clothes before finding his spot at the end of the couch, right behind you.

Sunoo pulled away from your lips, a string of saliva connecting the two of you until it snapped, and your eyes fluttered open. His hands smoothed down your sides before scooting back a little bit.

“Turn around for me, princess.” His voice was soft, but the look in his eyes made you follow his command as quickly as you could. Turning around onto your hands and knees, facing Jungwon. His eyes were clouded with lust as he took in the sight in front of him; your tits hung underneath you as your ass was pushed up, giving Sunoo the perfect view of your pantie-clad pussy.

Sunoo’s fingers traced up your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before pressing down right between your shoulder blades. A small whine fell from your lips as you moved closer to Jungwon. His eyes stayed focused on you as you came face-to-face with his dripping cock. Beads of precum decorating the tip. Situating yourself, you arched your back a little more before taking his hard dick into your small hand.

A groan tore through Jungwon’s throat as you started to rub up and down his shaft. His precum was more than enough lubricant to make your movements easy. Sunoo watched in amusement as Jungwon’s head fell back, one hand gripping the back of the couch while the other covered his mouth. Taking his attention off of the younger boy Sunoo moves his hands down to your hips, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your underwear.

The soft whines that were slipping through Jungwon’s fingers sent shivers throughout your body, your pussy clenching around nothing. It made your head fuzzy, and you wanted to hear more. Leaning forward, you give his tip a few kitten licks, making his body shutter, his hips bucking up in your hold.

“Don’t be so scared to touch her, Won; she obviously wants it. Look how wet she is.” A whine escaped your parted lips when Sunoo’s cool fingers grazed along your slit, gathering your slick before pulling back to show Jungwon. The younger male's eyes went wide at the light reflecting off of Sunoo’s glistening digits.

“Shit…” Jungwon cursed under his breath when you finally took him in your mouth, moving his hands to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail. His mind went whirling when he made eye contact with you, his breath hitching, seeing the lust in your eyes. When you took him completely in your mouth, he could have sworn he would bust right then and there. However, when you moaned around him, sending vibrations reverberating throughout his entire body, his hips bucked, causing you to gag. God, it was the best feeling he had ever experienced.

Sunoo moved down until he was face-to-face with your cunt, blowing on your glistening hole. You whined against Jungwon once more, causing the boy to groan, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes.

“Fuck, baby, can I fuck your mouth, please?” Jungwon asked, hips bucking once more, making you gag. You looked up at him with a gaze that clearly said yes, but he wanted to hear you say it. So he pulled you off of his dick with an audible ‘pop,’ caressing your cheek softly, “I wanna hear you say it pretty.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering for a moment before you moved to capture his lips with yours. He was surprised at first but was quick to recuperate the kiss, leaning into you to deepen it before pulling away. You pressed a small kiss against his lips again before moving down to his dick once more, rubbing languidly.

“Please use me however you’d like, Wonnie.” Your voice was raspy but full of lust. You then took him back into your mouth. Jungwon damn near lost his mind when you took him in your mouth all at once.

Sunoo’s hands found their way back to your thighs just as Jungwon started to buck his hips up into your mouth, holding your head in place. He didn’t give you any kind of warning before diving in, mouth latched onto your soaping pussy, making your body twitch as you moaned around Jungwon.

“Fuck!” The younger man moaned out, his movements picking up as you tried your best to focus on your breathing. However, the assault from both ends of your body was enough to leave you breathless.

“Did you forget about me already, princess?” Sunoo chuckled against your cunt, making you moan again, but was quickly choked up by Jungwon’s cock.

Your eyes rolled back when Sunoo sucked harshly on your clit, the pleasure making you go insane. Your grip on Jungwon’s thighs tightened when Sunoo’s tongue prodded at your entrance before he pushed in, letting your juices fill his mouth.

Jungwon wasn’t going to last much longer, and even through your fogged brain, you could tell. So you pressed your tongue against the underside of his cock while using a hand to fondle his balls.

“Holy shit…” He groaned out as his dick twitched in your mouth before painting your throat white. After a few more thrusts, he pulled out of your mouth, allowing you to swallow his load, which only turned the poor boy on even more.

Your head then fell forward when moved to your clit once more. However, Sunoo was growing more and more needy. He needed more, and this wasn't enough. Pulling away, he turned around, where he was lying on his back underneath your dripping cunt. You went to whine in protest, but he harshly tugged on your thighs, making you sit on his face.

“Sun- fuck!” You moaned out when his lips latched onto your clit once more; shocks flared throughout your body as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. You lifted your upper body, hand gripping the back of the couch like a vice to try and keep your balance. You were so close, and Sunoo could tell how your thighs were starting to shake.

Jungwon watched the scene in front of him like it was his favorite porn, his hand pumping his sensitive cock. He just couldn’t seem to get enough of the faces that you were making, and it turned him on so fucking much.

Sunoo’s grip on your hip got tighter, and he pulled you further down onto his face; you tried to resist, scared that you would hurt him. He wasn’t having any of it, using his strength to pull your pussy flush with his face listening to the pretty sounds that fell from your swollen lips.

“I’m- fuck, I’m so close.” You whined as your grip tightened on the couch, hips rutting against his face chasing your high. Sparks dance across your vision when your high comes crashing down, your body trembling in Sunoo’s hold. Small cries fell from your lips as Sunoo continued to lap at your twitching cunt, prolonging your orgasm until he was satisfied. When he pulled away, Jungwon reached out for you and you took his hands without a second thought.

All of the awkwardness had fled from Jungwon’s body at this point; now, he wanted nothing more than to completely ruin you. A smirk pulled on his lips when you perched yourself on his lap, his hands finding your hips. You leaned forward, latching your lips onto his once more; he pulled your hips down enough to have his rock-hard cock slip between your folds. A whine tore through your lips but was swallowed by Jungwon’s mouth.

“Fuck I can’t wait much longer,” Jungwon groaned against your lips before biting down on your bottom lip, “will you ride my cock, pretty?” He asked, moving your hair from your neck so he could place soft kisses along your jugular.

“Please.” You sighed, your hand moving between your bodies, growing impatient. Jungwon chuckled before leaning back to watch as you lifted your hips so you could line his tip with your entrance. The stretch was something you’d never experienced before; he was definitely bigger than any of the other guys you had ever been with before. Jungwon noticed your struggle and rubbed soothing circles on your hips, telling you to take it easy, but you shook your head. No, you were far too desperate to feel him buried in your cunt to wait any longer. So you took a deep breath and tried to relax as much as possible before sinking fully down onto his girth.

“Such a desperate little slut aren’t you?” Sunoo teased you as he moved from the couch to stand behind you. His hands move down to grope your boobs, squeezing hard enough to elicit a whimper from your pretty lips. “Go on, ride him.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, slowly rocking your hips on Jungwon. The younger let out a throaty groan, his grip on your hips tightening. You were clenching around his dick so tight it was driving him insane.

Sunoo leaned down, moving your hair to the side, placing kisses along the skin of your shoulder and up your neck. Your body leaned back into his chest, basking in the feeling of both of their hands on you. The angle you were sitting in only drove Jungwon’s cock so much deeper into you, hitting all the right places.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” The word left Jungwon’s lips like a mantra as he rutted his hips up into yours. “Shit, I’m sorry, y/n.” Before you could even open your mouth to ask what he meant, he planted his feet behind you before stilling your hips above his and thrusting up into your cunt harshly.

“Jun-” Your breath caught in your throat as he continued to thrust up into you without any remorse. Sunoo grabbed your chin softly, tilting your head back to connect his lips with yours in an upside-down kiss. He swallowed all of your pants and moans with a smirk; he ran his hand down to your core, pressing his middle finger to your clit.

Jungwon could feel you tighten around him like a vice when Sunoo wrapped his other hand around your throat. Your eyes then trailed down to meet his, eyes completely blown out in lust. He felt his dick twitch when your eyes rolled back as Sunoo sped up his fingers on your clit, mouth gaping open. You were close, and both of them could tell.

“Go ahead, princess, make a mess all over Wonnies cock.” Sunoo cooed in your ear, his movements not slowing.

Your grip on Jungwon’s forearms tightened, nails digging into his skin, sure to leave marks in the morning. Sunoo’s hand around your neck tightened, making you feel lightheaded as you came all over Jungwon’s lap. Your eyes stayed connected to Jungwon’s as he continued to rut his hips into yours, oversensitivity creeping into your body and making your whines louder.

“Wonnie.” You whined out, back arching, causing him to push even deeper into you. Stars started to dance across your vision as Sunoo released your throat to plant hot and wet kisses along your jugular. His fingers never left your spasming cunt, working in tandem with Jungwon’s thrust.

“I’m almost- fuck, I’m almost there, pretty.” He let out a choked groan when you tightened around him, “Just a little bit longer. Can you do that, baby?” You nodded your head like a broken bobblehead.

Sunoo chuckled as he released your clit from his touch as soon as your body tensed, causing you to whine. He then bit down on the junction of your neck as Jungwon’s hips shuddered because of how tight your pussy was clenching around him.

“Fuck.” Jungwon moaned out, head falling back as his grip tightened and his thrust because sloppy, “I’m cumming, shit, I’m cumming.” He pulled your hips flush against him as he released his load deep into your womb.

“God, that was hot as fuck.” Sunoo groaned as he let you lay against Jungwon, face buried in his neck. He then pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it off somewhere in the room to join yours and Jungwon’s.

“Fuck, you did so good, baby.” Jungwon cooed as he pressed a soft kiss against your temple, hands smoothing over your hips and thighs, squeezing the soft plush.

After stripping, Sunoo walked back over to the two of you, rubbing your shoulders, “Think you can handle another one, princess?” His finger kneading into your sore muscles made you feel light as a moan escaped your lips. “Hmm?”

You removed your face from Jungwon’s neck, leaning back in Sunoo’s hands. “I can, Sun; please fuck me.” Your whiny voice left his dick twitching, wanting nothing more than to bury himself in your cunt beside Jungwon’s, but you weren't ready for that yet. Instead, he sat on the opposite side of the couch, smirking at you while your eyes watched him.

“Come here, princess.” He motioned for you, and you reluctantly lifted yourself off of Jungwon, making the two of you whine out in sensitivity.

Crawling into Sunoo’s lap, you were quick to grab his hard dick, trying to line it up with your entrance. However, Sunoo clicked his tongue, moving your hand away and you looked up at him confused.

“You’re so impatient, but don’t worry…” A squeak left your mouth when he grabbed your thighs, quickly lying you down on your back, hovering over you, “I can’t wait any longer either.”

He threw your legs over his shoulders before pushing into you swiftly. Your jaw fell slack, head falling back as the sudden intrusion. He wasn't much wider than Jungwon, but god, was he longer, his tip kissing your cervix.

“Fuck you’re still so tight.” He groaned, giving you a split second to adjust. You reached up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him towards you. He practically folded your body in half as he kissed you deeply, rutting his hips slowly until you gave him the green light.

As soon as you gave him the green light, he started to piston his hips into yours. Broken moans of his name fell from your tongue, tears spilling from your eyes. Every time he would hit your cervix, you swore you saw colors dancing in your vision.

“Fu- fuck Sunoo!” You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders at overwhelming pleasure.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe I waited this long to fuck you.” Sunoo groaned, burying his face in your chest, nipping at the skin around your collarbones. Your brain was far too fogged to comprehend what he had just said; the only thought in your fucked out brain was how good it felt to finally have him buried in your cunt.

Sunoo wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol that lingered in his system or if it was because he was so hard for so long, but he was already close to cumming. However, he wasn't about to cum before you; no, he needed to feel you cum around him. Pulling back, he grabbed your legs right behind your knees, thrusting faster into your abused pussy.

“Come on, baby, cum around my cock.” He cooed, biting back a groan when he saw Jungwon’s head thrown back as he rubbed his cock with sloppy and fast movements. Chuckling, he dropped one of your legs to grab your chin, forcing you to look back at the younger male, “Look how hard you got him, princess; he’s gonna cum again just by watching me fuck you.”

Your eyes met Jungwon’s, his hooded gaze making your body tingle and pussy clench. Sunoo watched with dark eyes, keeping his orgasm at bay until he got you to cum once more. Letting go of your face, he trailed his hand down your body to your heat, pressing sharply on your swollen clit.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” You chanted, eyes squeezing shut as your whole body started to shake. Your impending orgasm creeps up even faster, “Sunoo! I’m gonna cum.” You whined, back arching off of the couch. Sunoo hissed as you squeezed tightly around his cock before your walls started to flutter around him, silent screams falling from your lips.

“Shit, that was hot,” He groaned, moving his hand from your bundle of nerves. Grabbing your leg once more, thrusting into you in deep, hard movements. His eyes studied your fucked out expression wanting nothing more than to burn it into his brain, unsure if he’d get to see it again.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum again,” Jungwon whined, his thumb pressing against his tip. Sunoo’s eyes flickered up to him, a smirk adorning his lips.

“Then cum Won, cum all over our needy slut.” His words made your mind reel, unfocused eyes meeting Jungwon’s as your head fell back. Your heated gaze was enough to push him over the edge, cumming all over your chest and abdomen with a string of curses leaving his lips.

Sunoo’s hips shuddered, his high right on the tip of his tongue. Looking down, his eyes caught sight of the white ring that wrapped around the base of his cock. The sight flipped something in him, his pacing picking up once more, making you cry out in sensitivity.

“I’m gonna cum,” Sunoo groaned when you squeezed around him again, “gonna cum in this needy little pussy of yours, fill you up so full.” He growled, pushing his cock deep into your cunt, “so full you’ll be dripping for days.”

You gathered some of Jungwon’s cum onto your thumb before placing the digit in your mouth, eyes locked with Sunoo’s. The sight caused both of the males to groan, Sunoo’s hip shuddering.

“Then do it.” Your voice was hoarse as you pulled your thumb from your mouth with a ‘pop’.

That’s all it took for Sunoo to bust, groaning as he painted your gummy walls white. His hips fucking his and Jungwon’s cum into you until slowing to a stop. He let your legs down gently before pressing soft kisses to your face, letting your racing heart calm.

The three of you sat in comfortable silence, catching your breaths before Jungwon spoke up.

“Jay is going to kill us.” He panicked a little, causing both you and Sunoo to burst out laughing. Jungwon looked at the two of you with wide eyes before slowly melting and joining in.

You ran your fingers through Sunoo’s hair as his face was buried in the crook of your neck, your body sticky with sweat and cum. Suddenly acutely aware of this fact, you cringed, “We need to shower.”

The two males burst out laughing again before agreeing and helping you to the bathroom so you could shower. Maybe get another round or two in before the three of you piled into your queen bed, passing out.

“What the fuck?!” The sound of your brother’s shouts woke you dead out of your sleep, sitting up in bed quickly. Sunoo was right behind you, shaking his head out while Jungwon remained lying down, awake.

“Was that Jay?” You asked, looking over at Sunoo with wide eyes.

Sunoo opened his mouth to say that you had probably just heard things and that your brother wasn’t supposed to be back until that night. However, the sound of heavy footsteps shut him right up.

Jungwon shot up in the bed, eyes meeting yours and Sunoo’s panicked ones.

“We forgot to clean up the living room,” Jungwon whined, rubbing his face and flopping back down on the bed, accepting his fate.

Oh, you guys were definitely screwed.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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