#unless you surround them in black or white cloth and film through a slit they reflect stuff that makes no goddamn sense

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Zee eyes are so sparkly... I can see the bounce card.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

twelve hours, m | jjk | ... and now

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You have twelve hours to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you. He's about to get married. You're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. Long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. Nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

this is part ii | click here for part i | total wc: 23k

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse and graphic violence, including the reader becoming physically scarred and having panic attacks; rich, this bachelor party is on a fuckin' YACHT, the best man is LOADED; JK and reader interacted in high school; angst and fluff and feels; cheating; this is mostly smut XD; (in part i) high school smut + intense adult smut (fem reader, striptease, semi-public sex at school, nipple play (he's a bit obsessed with them), dry humping, m-masturbation, handjob, cumming on tits (and diamonds), cum-eating, mirror kink, spitting, tit fucking, m-receiving oral, scratching / biting / marking, penetrative sex, doggy); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV

non-idol!AU; film director!Jungkook x wealthy, burlesque dancer!reader — ft best man, art trader!Kim Taehyung; dancer's bodyguard!Kim Namjoon and bodyguard!Kim Seokjin

> eyebrow pierced, tattooed, and long black-haired JK (with undercut) in a black suit because that's what we need in this life > look for TXT's 'you and me and the sky at 5:53' :)

--

time left: 06:49

No.

Don’t leave me.

It was the same then as it was now.

Jungkook reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him. Her eyes widened, pivoting quickly on her toe, snapping her heel down and cutting the turn short, black skirt flaring out. The swift glimpse of her legs in the high slit, the gentle bounce of her breasts in the slinky fabric. Her manicured hair bounced, dyed blue-black and giving her skin a surreal quality.

He held on.

Please don’t disappear.

“What?”

Her brows knitted together. She didn’t pull her arm away, but she was steadfast in her posture, not letting him push her around. Not that he ever could.

“He asked me to escort you back,” Jungkook found himself saying. “If not for your sake, then for his peace of mind. I don’t want to be a liar.”

Her features softened.

His fingers around her arm, touching that soft skin once more.

I care. I care a lot.

Jungkook realized that, in a way, he had never moved past those classrooms, those touches, those kisses, those moments.

“You can let go now.”

She said it patiently. Always patient with him despite his overzealous and sometimes clumsy antics, putting up with it even when she didn’t have to. He looked into those eyes and found those walls were falling away, little by little. Winged liner, red lipstick, it didn’t matter, it was the same expression, defiant eyes and hint of a scowl on those lips. Ready to fight, but not him.

She was always a fighter and the opponent was always life itself.

“I don’t want to let go.”

He didn’t expect himself to say the truth, but he did.

She smirked, reaching up, her fingers covering his tattoos for a moment, placing them on the back of his hand. This warmth. This feeling. It was not the same as the rest, and he knew that now.

“Hm, well, you must realize this looks a bit awkward. You wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression, would you?”

Wouldn't want someone to see you talking to me, right?

“You will let me escort you?” he insisted.

She pried his hand from her arm and lowered it, turning the other way.

“You are welcome to do as you like. I won’t stop you, golden boy.”

-

time left: 06:41

He followed you, surrounded by moonlight reflecting off water.

It streamed through the windows, lighting the red carpeted hall along with the dim sconces. You found yourself stepping in each lighted square, avoiding the thin dark beams of the windows, a little game for yourself, like how children avoided the cracks in the concrete sidewalks, except you were on a lavish yacht wearing Louboutins with a handsome man in step behind you.

It was quiet and yet it wasn’t. Small sounds, footsteps, distant muffles of talking through the walls, the faint sound of bass as you walked away from the party, the sound of the ocean ever present, your own breathing.

Jungkook’s breathing.

Familiar.

Once yours.

You looked to your right, to the window, seeing his reflection. His profile, hands in his pockets, tattooed arm standing out against the black background of his clothes, dressed formally but always a bit sheepish about it, as if he wasn’t sure if it looked good on him, but it always did, even the school uniform. He still had the youthfulness about him, even as a man.

Your eyes found his and he was watching your face in the glass of the window.

You stopped abruptly, pivoting on one heel to face him.

Impulse.

Your younger self would have bristled, glaring, accusing the eyes and snapping, what are you looking at?

Jungkook started, realizing you had noticed, and tripped, his black hair suddenly disturbed and tumbling over his eyes as he struggled to catch himself, hands flying out of his pockets.

You caught one, lacing your fingers with his, and gripped tightly, yanking up.

He righted himself, gasping. Looking up, bent over and long legs awkward, somewhat like a fawn trying to get on its legs for the first time. Those big brown eyes, parted pink lips. Familiar.

Your joined hands fell exactly where the window beam was, shrouded in shadow.

“Something on your mind?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

He straightened. You loosened your grip on his hand, but he held on. You frowned slightly, raising your brows.

He swallowed hard.

“Can I hold your hand? Please.”

Back then, you would hold his hand, hiding behind corners and dashing past, holding your breath, light steps, leaping from shadow to shadow, bodies close, breath mixing. Showing him all the secrets of the school that you had found while wandering, a fun little game with a reward at the end, school uniform being shed, skin to skin, his body against yours, his heartbeat in time with yours, his lips on yours.

You shrugged and turned back around, his hand tightly around yours.

-

time left: 06:35

Jungkook held her hand.

In an instant, he looked down, staring at their joined hands.

This was different.

And then he saw them.

Scars, all over the back of her hand. He could feel the scar tissue on her palms too, lines on her fingers even though she was holding him loosely. He had memorized every centimeter of her beautiful hands from back then, and these lines were not here before. These were not scars from living life. These had been cuts, healed now, unseen from far away and even up close. Perhaps they had been filled in with tattoo ink in a color to match her skin tone so they were less noticeable.

No one would know unless they were holding her hand or looking for it.

Without knowing it, Jungkook clutched her hand tighter, a sudden ache in his chest.

He had found bruises on her sometimes.

I fell down the stairs. It's nothing.

He had found welts.

Stupid fight with some dumbass.

He had found a criss-cross pattern of cuts on her leg.

I tried to jump over a fence and fucked up.

He glanced at her other hand loosely by her side. The same. He could even see her palm and there were many, many lines, all over her palm, healed cuts. Drugs? But he knew it wasn’t. Not because he had a romanticized idea of who she would be in his head, but because that was the nice answer.

That was the reasonable answer.

“Oh!”

“Excuse me, miss.”

His eyes flickered upward to see a young woman in a short midnight blue dress pausing, looking from her to him, cheeks flushed, not being subtle about it. The glittery fabric picked up the moonlight, accenting her curves and long legs. Pretty.

But not sensual.

Not immaculate.

Not teasing and sculptural.

The grip on his hand tightened so much that he inhaled sharply, fingers nearly crushed by her hold.

“Have a nice evening,” the woman in black purred, edge of ice indicating the stranger to move along, or, more accurately, fuck right off.

Jungkook knew he shouldn’t, and yet.

His heart skipped two beats as she dragged him along.

He had no problem looking away from the other woman and fixate on the back of that neatly pinned, blue-black hair, graceful shoulders, corseted waist, swaying hips.

And her hand in his, not letting go.

-

time left: 06:22

“This is it.”

You turned to see Jungkook looking around, mouth open, gawking at the entrance of the intricately carved wooden door. It was one of the grander, first-class rooms. The red doors were much farther apart and the sconces here were glided with glass-blown lampshades, casting swirls of orange across the white walls, dimmed now from the late night.

“It was nice to see you again.”

It was, even with the bitter taste in your mouth that seemed to linger.

His eyes came back to you, dark brown and clear, focused on only your face, long black strands framing his cheeks, the small mole underneath his lower lip trembling.

“I hope you have your happiness now, Jungkook.”

You did.

You felt a strange, unmovable pressure on your chest. The time wasn’t up yet. You could still try. You could keep your hold on his hand and drag him into the room and hold him close to you, skin to skin, lips on his, and show him all you’ve learned. You could. You could see it in those eyes. He would follow you now, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe for old times sake, maybe out of impulse and bad choices.

You let go.

You let go, because you didn’t want to be a bad choice.

Not to him, Jeon Jungkook.

“You were my small happiness, back then,” you said softly, feeling yourself smile.

It was better not to have regrets. At the time, even you didn’t know how important he had been. The thought of being withdrawn from that school and not being able to see him again made you fight back for once, and it ended in the very thing you didn’t want. It fucked up your hands, it fucked up your life, but somehow you found yourself here now, in expensive clothes on an expensive boat with expensive tastes, able to make a choice between selfishness or selflessness.

Maybe you hadn’t changed much after all, since you found yourself choosing the latter.

You turned away and pulled your hand out of his.

Or would have, if Jungkook hadn’t grasped your hand tighter, yanking you back and shoving you against the door of your suite. Your hand automatically raised to push him back, but he put his whole weight on your body, sandwiching you between the door and himself, making you gasp, trapped between dead timber and muscular hardness.

Now his face was in your face, breathing hard, dark brown orbs shaking and shining with wetness.

You froze, lips parting.

“You were my happiness too.”

He was panting, warm exhale on your lips.

“Not a small happiness. The happiness.”

He squeezed your hand like you were going to disappear.

“I didn’t know then, but I do now,” Jungkook shuddered, towering over you even in your heels. He stared into your eyes. “Your smile.”

You blinked slowly, confused.

“Your smile. I’ve never seen it reach your eyes.”

Heart racing, suddenly breathless.

“Except when you thought I couldn’t see, like when my back was turned or my face was turned away from you,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, long black hair curtaining your faces, sending you back to the shadows. “I saw it though, in reflections. In windows. In mirrors. In those beakers in the science room.”

Was that so? Had that been you? You made it a point not to smile back then, because there had been nothing to smile about. But maybe… maybe when eyes weren’t on you, maybe when you yourself didn’t notice, but, somehow, Jungkook had noticed.

You realized that your introspection had diverted your attention from him, so you made eye contact again, airless at his closeness. Your eyes and his, lost in sweet dreams.

“I want to kiss you.”

He tilted his head and hesitated.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he said to your lips.

His expression was clouded with shame. It was ugly. It made his handsome features ugly and you didn’t like that. You wanted to make it go away. You closed more distance, fingers pressing down on the back of his hand, your other hand raising and resting on his hip, lashes lowering.

“Then kiss me,” you said to his lips.

-

time left: 06:13

Jungkook kissed her.

From then and now, it was the same.

Euphoria.

But this time, it wasn’t clumsy with colliding teeth and too much tongue that did nothing, sloppy with no purpose. This time, his lips were soft at first and so were hers, breathing in each other’s scent. She smelled warm and musky, like blackberry and evergreens, expensive and lush, but somehow still her, still that girl from back then, comforting and intense, sometimes with the hint of metallic blood, but that never bothered him. Her hand on his hip, stroking it under the layers of fabric, making him shiver, caressing the back of his hand with her fingertips, delicate sigh in his mouth.

The faintest flicker of tongue on the edge of her upper lip, swiping down into his open mouth.

He moaned, feeling the strong wet muscle thrust into his lips, coaxing his tongue, teasing, pressing her body to his, breasts against his chest, their deep open necklines exchanging heat in the air between their skin but not quite touching, and he found himself letting go of her hand, reaching up to grab her breasts.

Her fingers closed around his wrists, forcing him to stop.

He gasped in her mouth, eyes opening.

“They’re not stress balls, Jungkook,” she snickered.

He was breathing hard, ribcage shuddering, heartbeat thundering in his ears, getting louder as he realized her red lipstick was a little messed up, feeling the stickiness on his own lips.

“You need to slow down. You can’t just grope me out in the open.”

His impatience spoke for him.

“Why not?”

His voice was low, octave deepened from lust.

Her lips curved into an amused smirk. “Oh? You have changed. You used to be so worried about someone seeing us. If anything, you should be more worried now, considering your beloved.”

“She’s not my beloved.”

She was still holding his wrists, but her head tilted, watching his eyes carefully. He sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling the guilt.

“We… we thought it would be a good idea. Because our friends told us we look nice together. It would help her career. I wouldn’t have to invest too much into it.”

He felt ashamed, but he didn’t look away because he didn’t want her to think he was lying.

“I never found a smile like yours. I accepted that I never would.”

Her eyes darkened.

“It’s dangerous, Jungkook. Ill-advised.”

He smiled and he didn’t know if it reached his eyes because his vision was blurry.

But he knew it wasn’t a lie.

“You always were. I should have chased you to the ends of the earth, even if you were only a ghost.”

He lifted his hands, hers with his, and cupped her face, running his fingertips over her cheeks, smooth and soft skin, transported back to that moment in the abandoned literature club room, her face cast in an orange glow, actually swirls from glass-blown sconces, but the past and present connected, turning it into rays from the setting sun that lit up her features, and he said what he had said then, because it was the truth.

“You’re really pretty.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You are.”

He leaned forward and kissed the side of her lips gently.

She chuckled.

“You really are something, Jeon Jungkook.”

Her hands let go and she reached into the deep neckline of her dress, plucking something from the corset. His eyes widened as she pulled out the key card from between her breasts, smirk dancing on her lips. She winked at him.

“A lady has many hiding places.”

She flicked her wrist and inserted it into the door, unlocking it without looking.

The door opened and they stepped into her room.

-

time left: 06:02

“Hnnnnnnngh…”

“Dude can snore.”

“Help me turn him to his side. Don’t want him to vomit in his mouth and asphyxiate,” Kim Namjoon grunted, helped by Kim Seokjin, jerking Kim Taehyung’s body to the side. They backed up and Taehyung immediately flopped to his back, snoring away.

Seokjin thinned his mouth into a line. “Seriously?”

“Ah, here, let’s roll up the towels and use them to prop him up.”

“He’s not as cute as she is.”

“Well, she also doesn’t get piss drunk... ever.”

“Still a better cuddle buddy. Comes with built-in pillows.”

Namjoon blinked at Seokjin and shook his head, letting the odd comment slide. They managed to jam the bath towels next to Taehyung and force him to lay on his side, placing a pillow in his arms that he immediately hugged, squeezing it tightly. The snoring lessened as well.

“Guess we should go back,” Namjoon sighed, rubbing the back of his short hair.

Seokjin scoffed. “No, we shouldn’t. They’re probably all over each other as we speak.”

Namjoon frowned, raised an eyebrow at the other man. “Really? I don’t know. She seemed very hesitant about it. She said she didn’t love him.”

Seokjin snorted, somehow still elegant with his handsome face. “You really believe that?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes. “That’s what everybody says when they don’t want to admit they’re in love with someone.”

“That’s also what people say when they are, factually, not in love with someone.”

The black-haired man raised his hands and held up his index fingers, wriggling them in the air and bending them ninety-degrees, squiggling them around each other and poking the tips together repeatedly. Namjoon blinked at him.

“What are you doing?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes as if it was despairingly obvious what he was doing. “A visual representation of what they’re doing right now.”

Namjoon contorted his face in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

“… Becoming worms…?”

Seokjin groaned. “Having sex, Namjoon.”

“… How is that…?”

-

time left: 05:53

The door to his dreams unsealed and they tumbled inside.

The orange glow of the hallway lights spilled into the room, bleeding into the cool glow that came from the open windows, curtains pulled back to reveal the shimmering sea and bright moon, a contrast of artificial dusk and true nightfall. She pulled him in by his belt, hooking two fingers under the leather, step by sweeping step, grace that made him breathless, orange and silver and shadow, all mixing together, and then the door closed and then the sea and the moon replaced the sunset dreams.

It was a heavy thunk, closing with finality.

The room had many ornate mirrors in it to make the room seem bigger. The had gold vintage frames of different shapes and sizes, reflecting the contents of the room, the large bed and red silk sheets, the black leather chairs and black marble table bolted down to the floor, the matching marble vanity laid out with several black leather cosmetic bags, all zipped up neatly. The had small details on them – red zippers, silver locks, the designer logo engraved into the leather. The suitcases leaning against the wall matched the cosmetic bags, three of them, one larger than the first two.

Jungkook breathed her name, raising his hand, fingers spread.

Her fingertips touched his, halting him.

“Let me do it.”

He spied his expression in one of the mirrors.

The silver moonlight lit up his face and his eyes, reflecting the lust and trust in them.

He looked back to her and nodded.

“Okay.”

Glamour. Fantasy. Descent.

That was the only way he could describe the way she moved, glamour in the way her hand slowly retreated from his, a steady wave and sweep, clearly deliberate. Even in smeared lipstick, the small smirk was present on those lips, stepping around him with a swing of her hips and gentle clicks of her black patent leather heels, the slinky fabric flowing with her actions and also clinging to her body at the same time, using the arc of her stride to spread open the high slit. Letting him watch. He almost turned to follow but she placed a few fingers on his arm, purring softly.

“Don’t move.”

Fantasy, the way she slipped behind him like a shadow, and then Jungkook had to look up into the mirrors, catching glimpses of her behind him. There was no music, but she moved as if there was. If anything, the sound of the waves seemed to form its own music, and he was suddenly more aware of it, the splashes against the hull of the boat mixing with the bass of his heartbeat and the wispiness of her breath, stepping up behind him, body heat making him gasp, looking into a mirror to his left, a window illuminating his right, her hands slipping between the space of his ribs and upper arms, fingers spread like wings, warm exhale on his neck.

No words.

Just a simple kiss to the base of his head and her lips murmuring his name on his skin.

Descent.

One by one, teasing the buttons apart, her fingers ghosting the exposed skin, his heart racing as he watched those hands, peeling apart the button placket, unwrapping him like a decadent sweet. He watched his own expression framed by long curls of black, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, small mole below quivering, seeing more and more of his chest being exposed, somewhat self-conscious, but there was something spellbinding about only being able to see her hands and forearms, pointed black nails decorated with crystals that caught the light, undoing all the buttons until she reached his pants.

“I can–”

“Shh. Don’t let your impatience prevent you from enjoying your own striptease.”

His cheeks heated a little and he lowered his hands, breath hiking as she firmly gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it out. Jungkook took a step back, his back hitting her chest, and gasped again, feeling the softness, but she adjusted her position so her body wasn’t touching his anymore, chiding him playfully.

“Never had someone take off your clothes, Jungkook?” she chuckled against his neck, making his hairs stand on end.

“Ah, well…”

He watched those deft fingers undo the last two buttons. Then they spread apart his black shirt, reaching in, fingertips spreading out over his abs and pecs, tracing the contours of his muscles, switching between her nails and the pads of her fingertips, prickling and dainty. He couldn’t sure her face, but he saw his, and only now registered his own moans, so absorbed by her sensual movement and her touch that he didn’t even realize the embarrassing sounds falling from his lips.

“Not… since you…”

She snickered. “Seriously? What fool wouldn’t want to tear the clothes off this lovely body?”

He could feel and see his flush in the mirror. He looked away quickly, down to her hands exploring his body. “Well, I just… figured it’s easier if I do it. No one has ever been like you.”

“Hmm.”

His hands raised. He traced her knuckles, causing her to pause, caressing small circles on his sternum.

“You want to tear the clothes off my body?” he breathed, not daring to see his own reflection and know his reaction to whatever her answer was.

“I do.”

He placed his left hand on hers, heart beating faster and faster.

“Not tonight though.”

He pulled her palm away from his racing heart, not wanting her to know her effect on him, letting it linger beside his ribcage.

“Tonight, I will show you all I’ve learned, because I was always a better student than you, class representative.”

He found himself laughing a little, suddenly sheepish. “Yeah. Your name was always in the top five percent. I was pretty bad at school. I don’t know why everyone voted for–oooh…”

Her fingers touched his nipples, rubbing delicately, sending strange shivers all over him, shallowing his breath, making him look up and see his dark nipples being teased by expert hands. Her nails nicked them lightly and he whined in his throat, feeling them harden against her fingertips, surprised at the arousal from the simple touch, something he never paid attention to or cared about. His hair was covering part of his face.

Jungkook reached up and pushed his hair back, pressing his chest into those hands.

Saw one of her eyes behind his head, sharp and sultry with winged liner, twinkling as she watched him.

“I voted for you because I thought it would be funny since you weren’t even trying.”

He didn’t really have a response for that, too busy looking at his own face and body, shivering as she tweaked his nipples and pushed them in slow circles, his arms descending to lower the shadows, letting them suspend by his sides.

She shifted beside him and half of her lips appeared, on the toes of her heels, whispering close to his ear, seductive and dark.

“You were good-looking then, and you’re even more handsome now, Jungkook.”

The sound of the ocean, the silver moonlight shining off her blue-black hair giving her skin a surreal quality, almost doll-like, the mirror reflecting his expression, desire and anticipation.

She removed her hands and grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking it down.

He inhaled sharply and her face disappeared.

Dress shirt stripped from his body and flung away, the crisp black fabric flaring out, a shadow cast aside.

Jungkook spun around.

-

Does this man know the meaning of calm the fuck down?

You rolled your eyes inwardly as you witnessed Jungkook turn around, facing you again even though you told him not to the move. He had always been like this, overzealous, but he didn’t seem as clumsy as before, although…

He grabbed your tits.

Hah.

He blinked rapidly, surprised. “Huh?”

You shook your head and knocked his hands away, sighing. “Pasties, Jungkook. To cover my nipples.”

You reached into your dress and scooped your breasts out, trapping them between the v-neckline. His eyes bulged slightly when he saw the smooth black satin circles flush to the apex of your breasts. They fit perfectly, seamless so they were unseen even under the slinky fabric of the black gown.

“W-Whoa…”

“What? I’m a burlesque dancer. Of course, I have fancy nipple covers. This is basic wardrobe.”

He tilted his head. “I’ve never seen any like these. They look like they’re part of your body.”

You tutted. “Obviously, they aren’t. You know I have nipples.”

And you reached up and peeled them off, flinging them aside carelessly.

Jungkook gasped, staring at your nipples with wide eyes.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen nipples,” you scowled. “You better not be a virgin with how hot you’ve become.”

His hands shot up and you grabbed his wrists again, forcing them back down.

Jungkook whined, eyes shifting back up to you, begging to touch them.

You stiffened slightly. What kind of reaction was that?

“They’re so big,” he whispered huskily, visibly shuddering, shaking with the craving to touch them. “I remember they were soft. And…” His breathing hitched, trembling in your hands. “I remember they tasted so good. Amazing. No one has ever tasted as good as you.”

His eyes flickered back down, biting his lip. He tried to break free, but you held. A single glance exchanged and you let go, realizing he was going to do something other than attack them. Instead, he collected the straps of your dress and pulled them back up, slowly, moaning as the slinky black fabric skimmed over your breasts, your prominent nipples sticking out, hardening from the light friction.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking sexy.”

Well, maybe he did have some appreciation for the visual after all.

“You see why I need the pasties.”

He pulled the straps up, whimpering as he watched your nipples strain against your dress, lifting your breasts in the confines of the fabric and lowering them, lifting, lowering, repeating the gesture.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Jungkook… are you bouncing my tits on purpose?”

His dark brown orbs darted to you. Guilty.

“Um… y-you won’t let me touch them…”

You weren’t sure whether to sigh or to laugh. You just shook your head, backing up out of his grasp. His hands were still outstretched, lips forming a small pout. You almost regretted it, but his expression quickly changed as you casually flicked down the straps, freeing your breasts again, dropping his hands and linking them together under his waist, waiting, now invested in what you had in store.

Oh.

He chewed on his lip and gave you an expectant look.

A flutter in your chest.

The side of your lips curved upward, tongue sliding out to graze the edge of your upper lip before disappearing.

You reached back, leisurely undoing the fastenings of the corset, sweeping your legs so the high slit flared apart, turning around, letting him witness the slow undress. Every action was deliberate, the wide arc of your leg moving the skirt aside to prevent you from tripping as you turned without using your hands, the wide stance of your feet to relieve pressure on your heels and to prevent the dress from sliding down too soon, and even the position of your fingers, poised so you could run a nail down your spine as two of them pinched the hook-and-eye and separated them, traveling down to the top of your ass. Every movement was thought out, details that made up the bigger picture, constructing your ultimate goal.

A sensual striptease.

You caught his reaction in a mirror to your right.

His sparkling brown eyes were wide, jaw dropped.

A lot of people had seen you take off your clothes, but no one made you feel as satisfied as Jeon Jungkook, then in his school uniform and now shirtless in his slacks, hands twisting in front of his crotch.

Then you saw your face.

You were smiling.

You really did smile when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Another glimpse at his face and you found him staring at you, silver moonlight glinting off his eyebrow piercing and flooding into his eyes, bringing out the stars within.

You released your hand and your dress tumbled to the ground.

He sucked in a shuddering breath, your name drifting from his lips.

“H… Holy shit…”

You did have an amazing waist-to-ass ratio.

Proper corset training and specific hit workouts to perfect your craft contributed. You couldn’t simply be pretty. You had to be strong and flexible to do the stunts and to walk in your red bottoms for the entire performance. Christian Louboutin didn’t make his shoes to be comfy. He made heels to make feet look enticing and sexy.

The price to pay for glamour and vanity.

It did give you some powerful calves though.

You lifted one shoe, flashing that blazingly red sole of your heel, balancing on one leg for a second.

This was to prevent you from getting tangled on your now fallen dress. You tightened your core, shifting your weight, knowing it would give Jungkook an irresistible view of your plump derriere in your high French-cut black satin panties, the particular style adding illusion to the already stark proportion.

In short, your ass looked fucking fabulous.

You stepped out of your dress, one leg, then the other, taking care not to step on it, adding a little flourish of your hands to create those body lines, ever the performer. You glanced at the mirror and was pleased to find Jungkook hadn’t moved, although his hands were now firmly open, palms down on his crotch, whimpering in his throat.

“Soon,” you promised, and you would keep it.

He nodded, swallowing hard.

You turned your fingers inward, hooking each index finger on the sides of your panties, rocking your hips slowly, lowering your lashes, following the beat of the sea, tugging down the right side a few centimeters and then the left, listening to his breathing and controlling yours. You bent over slowly at the hips, sticking your ass out, listening to his low moan as your glistening slit was revealed, sliding your undergarments down your thighs and calves, placing them carefully onto the floor.

You gradually straightened, breathing out, keeping it as one smooth motion.

You stepped out of your panties.

Now you were clad in only your black patent Louboutins and black diamond choker.

This time, you found your reflection in the mirror to delicately correct your smeared red lipstick with your fingertips. Good enough. You nodded at your reflection. The corners of your mouth curved upwards.

You turned to face him, showing Jungkook your smile.

-

This smile was real.

The smile she only showed when she was with him. He didn’t know if that was a valid thought or not, but he liked to think so. Besides, no smile meant as much as this one. That he was sure of, because he had been chasing this smile for all these years before finally accepting that he would never find another one like it. It was too precious to belong to anyone else.

His smile.

If his dick wasn’t trying to rip open his pants, Jungkook might have cried seeing it for the first time.

He couldn’t speak, too afraid he was going to lose it right then and there.

She walked towards him.

No, walk wasn’t the correct word. Strode, strut, glided, fuck, he didn’t know, she just moved as fluidly as a shadow and water combined, silver moonlight glistening off her skin and her diamonds, and he knew he would never love the mere act of walking more than when he watched her move.

She stilled.

He stopped breathing.

Her foot raised, toes tracing the inside of the heel, raising the pointed toe, balancing it on the stiletto, and she flicked it backward, causing it to tumble and somersault backward, falling to its side.

Fuck.

She thought of everything.

She balanced on tiptoe and did the same to the other shoe, discarding it with a swift tick.

He made a less-than-elegant noise of her name mixed with a needy whine.

“P… Please…”

Jungkook was quite sure he was a hair’s breath away from ripping off his pants to get some relief.

She finally made her way to stand in front of him. Smile so close now, emphasized by painted lips.

Her hands closed over his, peeling them away from his crotch, holding them loosely. She leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on his lips. Deep, meaningful, nothing flashy. Drew back, still smiling.

This smile.

He wanted to protect it forever.

“I should have told you that I love you, but I didn’t know it then,” he whispered.

She chuckled.

“I know now.”

She was lowering herself as he spoke, tilting her head at him, inviting him to continue. Getting to her knees, positioning her feet right under her ass, neat and orderly. His hands dropped, leaving hers on his belt, undoing the buckle, her gaze still on him. Looking up at him with amusement, diamonds glittering on her throat, perky tits and nipples, thighs on display, kneeling in front of his crotch.

“I love you.”

Jungkook meant it, every syllable.

He never meant it more in her life.

“I know.”

What?

She casually undid his belt and slid the closure open, unzipping his slacks.

“Wait… what?” he sputtered, blinking rapidly.

“I know you love me,” she repeated calmly.

Jungkook had time for a single blink before his pants were yanked down to his knees. He started, almost falling over, but her hands came up behind his legs and gripped them, keeping him upright.

“Careful,” she purred, stroking the backs of his thighs.

He jerked his head down, hardly able to breathe, shock blossoming as she leaned forward, hot breath warming his black boxer briefs. Eyes on his face, pink tongue extending.

“O-Oh, fuuuck…”

She planted her tongue over his hardness and soaked it with saliva, wetting the fabric and tracing the outline, molding his underwear to his length, sending him into gasping shivers, heat from her tongue and then her lips closing, blowing a cool stream over it, hot and cold, sensation and deprivation, too much and not enough, placing kisses all over and he flinched with every one, savoring the feeling, the touch that was familiar and unfamiliar, everything he wanted.

“W-Wait… that’s dirty…”

“Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.”

Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.

Pants racking his torso, looking down, and it was the same but different, her lips kissing up his abs, his chest, back to his face, holding him to her, lipstick smeared and now on his skin. Open mouth to elegantly parted lips, gasping as she collected her breasts and pressed her nipples to his chest, squashing the softness to his pecs.

“Spit on my cleavage,” she breathed.

“W-What?”

She raised an eyebrow, knowing that he heard her perfectly well, squeezing her breasts together and rubbing them on his chest, sending the electric sensation of her large nipples dragging across his heartbeat, rolling her shoulders to the beat of the sea, bathed in silver moonlight.

“Spit on my tits, Jungkook.”

“I… c-couldn’t… do that to you…” he moaned, pitch hiking with pleasure.

She didn’t chide him to cover his mouth this time, instead smirking wider, licking her teeth. “Sure, you can. Do it, golden boy. Spit on me.”

She hooked a leg over his hip and grinded her crotch to his wet one, causing him to whine, knowing his cock was so close to her pussy but not yet skin to skin, the soaked fabric barrier driving him insane, his hands coming up to grip her waist and press her down on him, staring into her eyes, inhale shaky and erratic.

She smiled, teasing, sculptural, his.

“You trust me?”

Jungkook was drunk on something he didn’t understand and it was love.

“Yeah…”

He leaned forward, capturing her lips, an intense, burning kiss. She smiled into his kiss, and he knew she was aware of his nervousness, but she remained patient as she always was, pressing back daintily, taking his breath away. He broke apart, trembling.

She nodded, telling him it was okay.

He collected saliva at the tip of his tongue and looked down, spitting into her cleavage.

It shot out of his mouth, splattering over the swell of her breasts and onto his own chest. His ears burned, self-conscious at the dirty act, but she moaned deliciously, backing up, his saliva dripping down and stuck to the inside curve of her breasts. He had a moment to appreciate the image, the most beautiful woman in the world with her diamond choker and his spit on her tits glistening in the moonlight reflected by the sea.

“Wow.”

That was all he could say as the image burned into his memory.

She smirked, falling to her knees, tugging his black boxer briefs down his thighs, his stiff cock popping out, bobbing in the air at the suddenness of its release, and then trapped once more, except this time not in drenched fabric but in her soft, saliva-covered breasts – or his saliva, depending on how he thought about it – but he couldn’t think about it, abrupt pleasure shooting up his spine, throwing his head back in a moan, eyes darting everywhere, surrounded by mirrors, reflections of his face, his long black hair a wild mess, his facial features consumed by wanton lust, his throbbing cock jammed between her breasts and her body sliding up and down, her large nipples rubbing against his crotch and thighs, oh, fuck, the sensation insane, soft and rough and wet, her perfectly pinned hair leaving only the curls at the ends bouncing from her effort.

She spit down his length, adding to the lubrication and her name burst out of his mouth in an erratic groan.

“F-Fuck…!”

She pushed his cock up, almost uncomfortable, but then her mouth closed around the tip, tongue swirling, and he was lost again, ecstasy as she switched to blowing him, pressing her breasts to his thighs, smearing the saliva on them too, covering his cock in red lipstick, soaking every centimeter with saliva, running her tongue over the veins and the head, his hands clenching into fists, close, so close, and then she popped her mouth off, leaving him near tears and in whines.

“P-Please, let me cum, please…”

“I want you to cum on my necklace,” she panted, planting his cock in her cleavage again, lacing her fingers over it, pressing the head down into the slick skin, shock of her words and the escalating pleasure, his chin lowering and staring down at glittering black diamonds and the engorged tip of his length popping in and out of her breasts.

“You want me to… cum on your necklace…?” he echoed hollowly, in utter disbelief.

“Fuck yes, I do,” she grinned, tip of her tongue flickering at the edge of her lips. “Cum on my diamonds, Jungkook.”

Well, fuck.

This was the worst surreal and hottest moment of his life.

He clenched his jaw and thrust his hips into her chest, adding to the stimulation, chasing it, seeing her grin grow, devilish and devious, squeezing him tighter, faster, faster, faster, his hands and his body shaking, gripped by pleasure and her hold, panting her name over and over, his prayer, his drug, his lifeline, trying to hold out, the line inside him pulled taut, thinner and thinner, snapping.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

His hips jolted and he forced them upward, her head tipping back as the thick red tip popped out, twitching and splattering thick streams of white, painting the black diamonds with his white orgasm, clinging to the jewels and her collarbones, dripping down, covering her with his strong and masculine scent. She lifted her body, trapping his jolting cock in her breasts, and he moaned helplessly, rutting against her skin, sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins, uncontrollable flinching and shuddering as more dribbled out, milked out by the tightness.

“Oooooooh, f-fuck… fuck, I’m s-so sorry…” he gasped out, wincing at the mess he made.

“Ah, shut up, Jungkook.”

In awe, he watched her back up slightly, strings of his orgasm all over her breasts, chest, and diamonds.

She smiled and dipped her fingers in it, coating them with his cum and bringing them to her smeared red lips, licking them off one by one, pink tongue slipping between her elegant digits, moaning as she drank up his taste.

Eyes on his, drunk on him.

-

time left: --:--

Kim Namjoon leaned against Kim Seokjin’s shoulder, listening to the other man’s deep breathing.

They were sitting on the plush green couch in Kim Taehyung’s room.

The night was quiet, nothing but the sound of the waves coming through the open window, a light breeze as Namjoon watched the moon reflect off the ocean. Seokjin had already fallen asleep, head resting against the back of the sofa, tired from the day’s events and needing the rest. Namjoon felt the drowsiness beginning to weigh on him too, using Seokjin’s wide shoulder as his headrest. He had opened the window to prevent the room from getting too stuffy.

It would have been more comfortable to be in that giant bed with the one he was paid to protect, but he hoped she was in good hands now.

He smiled to himself, watching the silver moonlight dance off the choppy waters.

His mind went back to those moments, moments when he had to hold her shoulders and remind her of who and where she was, moments when he sat and waited as she clenched her teeth and a skilled medical tattoo artist filled in those white scars all over her hands, moments of when she finally sat him and Seokjin down and told them why she sometimes woke up at night, screaming and crying, yelling the names of past demons.

She had told them she was sorry, sorry for being weak, sorry for not taking responsibility.

Seokjin had scoffed, smacking her lightly on the head. “Are you an idiot? You have been through enough. Stop it with that nonsense. It’s part of our job, so let us do our job.”

After that, Namjoon would make it a point to check up on her at night, reaching over to soothe her brow as she slept, relaxing her face with gentle touches. He wanted to be there in case she woke up from a nightmare, and it became a habit, until Seokjin too elbowed himself in the bed, muttering that she always got the best digs anyway, so why shouldn’t he? He was handsome enough, after all.

They only accompanied her to events or appearances.

It bothered Namjoon to think that sometimes she was alone in her own home, waking up screaming and crying, and that he couldn’t be there.

He wondered what would come of this.

Jeon Jungkook.

Did he know that if he broke her heart that two ‘big-scary-dudes-with-massive-shoulders’ were going to find his ass and rearrange it?

Hm.

Namjoon closed his eyes, letting the night take him under its wing.

-

time left: error

The black diamond choker was on the vanity, covered in Jungkook’s cum.

Both of your clothes were on the floor, shoes, pants, dress, undergarments, strewn all over, a mess, along with a now cold, wet, white bath towel that smelled like semen and saliva. It had what was left of your red lipstick on it.

One of the designer cosmetic bags was open.

There were condoms scattered on the bed now, thrown over the red silk sheets.

Jungkook was holding your hands, palms up, tenderly kissing them.

It felt strange, his soft lips on your scars.

Most people didn’t realize it. It wasn’t something they looked for or thought to think twice about, because to them, your hands had always been like that. It would be rude to comment or mention it even if they had noticed.

But Jungkook had known your hands before they became like this.

“It’s why I stopped going to school.”

He kissed the pads of your fingertips, looking at you with those dark brown orbs.

“Did something bad happen?”

You smiled, somewhere between sad and apologetic.

“I wanted to make sure that I could still see you, but unfortunately I ended up doing the exact opposite.”

He squeezed your hands tightly, giving you his own smile. “Still, you came back to me.”

You chuckled ruefully. “Not with the best intentions.”

The silver moonlight highlighted all your favorite features, the cupid’s bow of his lips, the tiny mole underneath, the wrinkle of his nose with his smile, the stars in his eyes.

“You’ve always been dangerous and ill-advised for me, but I always liked that about you.”

You arched a brow. “Hm, you were a shitty class representative, huh?”

Jungkook shrugged. “You weren’t really a class delinquent either.”

You shook your head, pulling your hands out of his. “Look at you. What kind of class presentative gets all these tattoos?” you teased, dancing your fingers up his right forearm and elbow, tracing the outlines of the script and graphics, following the swirls of the clouds and flower petals with your nails, listening to his shallow breath at your touch. “And an eyebrow piercing? Are you trying to tell everyone you’re one of the cool kids now?”

His lips twisted into a small frown. “Am I cool?”

You shrugged. “Every time I hear about the cool kids in our grade, it’s just about how they got knocked up too early or how they dropped out of university, so you tell me.”

“I haven’t gotten knocked up.”

You gave him a look, bordering on impatience.

“Wait, I mean–”

You raised a hand and planted it on his chest, pushing him down on the bed.

“Enough. Stop talking, please.”

You crawled over his body, placing your hands by his head, looking down at him. Jungkook stared up at you, long black hair splayed over the pillows. He was definitely a man now, sharp jawline, manicured brows, slight dark circles from long nights, and, as you leaned down, expensive cologne now, still light and clean but with a twist of sharpness and sweet fruit, still with the same warmth. Your lips pressed against his jaw, leaving kisses, sinking your weight onto him, skin to skin, his gasps under you, and now it seemed like you were back in that time, his teenage self and your teenage self, the same eagerness as his arms surrounded you, running his hands down your back, but now he added his nails, making you hum in approval. He did it more, scratching his nails over your spine as you kissed his jaw, his throat, his ear, jingling his earrings with your tongue, whispering against his skin.

“No one has ever been what you are to me.”

You didn’t bother using past tense, because it wasn’t.

You sat down on his thigh, his semi-hard cock twitching against your skin, turned on by your kisses and your tongue toying with his ear.

“You weren’t even very good, you know. You were kinda shit. Too impatient.”

He shuddered, tensing his forearms against your sides.

“I’m b-better now…” he whimpered, turning into a moan as you bit his ear and rubbed your wetness on his thigh, painting it with your juices. You kept it slow, leisurely, with even pressure.

“Still…”

You lifted your head, bringing your fingers inward, slipping them into his hair, pushing it back, caressing his temple with your thumbs.

“I have loved you all this time, Jungkook, even back then when I didn’t know what love was, when I was only chasing a feeling that was different from all the others.”

His eyes widened, stunned by your words.

“Ah, nevertheless, I came back too late.”

“No.”

His hands on your back, holding you tightly to him.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he whispered, words from long ago, bringing them back. “And I will.”

He raised his forehead and touched yours.

“I know it’s not fair, I know it’s bad, I know it’s terrible, but I’ll be fucked up if you can’t be right here, with me.”

His lips to yours, small kisses and closed eyes, hiding his tears behind his lashes.

“You are the happiness, and if you continue to love me, I will never let you go.”

That’s what Jungkook said, but the sentiment was slightly interrupted by his cock being so hard that it was actually raising your thigh up into the air.

You smiled against his lips, chuckling.

“I guess I’ll bring a towel when you get her cocktail splashed into your face.”

“Maybe two. She has a lot of internet friends.”

“Hm.”

You lifted your head, smirking.

“Well, I can’t say it would be the first relationship I’ve ruined, although those were far more indirect.”

-

Jungkook tried to make the moment romantic, but her naked body was on top of him with her wet pussy rubbing on his thigh and his dick was coming back to life right in the middle of his speech.

Still, he couldn’t really complain, because at the moment he was ripping open a condom, on his knees between her legs, rolling it down, eyes roaming over her body lines, poised and elegant and sexy, her hair flared out on the pillows, still neatly pinned up, some kind of sorcery, but that didn’t surprise Jungkook, for she had always had her spell on him and he was better for it.

“You want missionary?” she teased.

He bit his lip, nodding.

“I want to watch your face.”

Her tongue flickered out on the edge of her upper lip, accenting the high point of her smirk.

“Good, then I can watch yours.”

He positioned himself in front of her, pausing for a second, unsure now, but she simply grinned and reached between her legs, one hand on his length and the other on his hip, digging her nails into his ass and shoving him inside her.

“Oh, fuck!”

She seemed highly amused, but he was gone, sudden tightness and wetness enveloping him, pitching forward and catching himself on his palms, sinking into red silk, the intensity bursting from his core and washing over him, shuddering and gasping as she gripped his ass with both hands and sank him down into her pussy, down, down, drowning in the feeling, diving into the depths of pleasure, fuck, he felt it everywhere, her walls clenching and wrapped around his length, the sensitive head rubbing against the ridges, and the emotions that rushed through him as he looked into her eyes, a little humiliated that it affected him so much, a little shocked at how good it felt even with the condom, and a lot of lust and trust and love, all rolling into one, and she purred his name, smooth and silky and gentle, and he couldn’t help himself, slowly rolling his hips and smacking down hard, burying himself to the base, eyelids fluttering, feeling it radiate over his body.

“Too... hard?” he choked out, trying to be considerate, desperate not to fuck up.

She shook her head, snickering.

“Not even close.”

“How can I–?”

But she didn’t let him finish, tapping the mandala flower tattoo on his right elbow and he raised his arms, at loss for words and breath when she raised her legs to his shoulders and tugged his forearms back down, his hands landing on the bed once more.

Oh no.

This was tighter.

“Fuck me, Jungkook, and make it rough.”

I can’t talk or I will blow my load in two seconds.

He nodded, tensing his jaw, and smacked his crotch down, her thighs smacking against his chest.

Oh, fuck me.

He wished he could sound less desperate and less ruined, but he simply didn’t have the capacity for that any longer, tumbling into a series of wild moans as he built up the pace, wave after wave of pleasure crashing into him, too much sensation, soft thighs, wet tightness squeezing his throbbing length, her hands on his upper arms, holding on tightly, his name falling from her mouth along with her erotic exhale. He loved every sound she made, every single one, her moan, her hiss, her growl, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, that’s it, give it to me, Jungkook, loved the way she looked at him, a mixture of bliss and slyness, loved the sound their bodies made, a harsh rhythmic smack, louder and louder, messing up the sheets, her head tipping back, eyes closing, fuck, yes, gonna cum if you keep going like that, so he did, hard, firm, powerful slaps of skin-to-skin, feeling so good but holding himself back, biting his lip hard and moaning in his throat, not willing to orgasm until he made her do so, at least twice.

Jungkook was being ridiculous, he knew, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he lost it too soon during his first time inside her.

“Mmm, fuck, Jungkook, fuck!”

A sharp throb and then a cascading effect, brutal massages of his length, and he didn’t even realize it, pausing for a second from the strength of her orgasm, his cock clenched all over and squeezed, shocking pleasure that made his eyes roll back, struggling with every fiber of his being to not explode, edging himself by ceasing his thrust, and then he drew back and rammed back into her, clawing up the sheets to press her further down into the bed, nearly bending her in half, but she didn’t seem to mind, gripping his arms and raising her hips to meet him, deeper now, the head being constricted even tighter by this changed angle, him sucking in a deep inhale, smelling blackberry, evergreen, and sex, the sweet smell of her pussy, reminding him of sitting on the bus on his way home and catching that scent on his hands and clothes, not regretting it, loving her mark on him.

It was better now.

Better because he was actually in her pussy.

And better because her teeth caught the side of her lower lip, a second of lost control, lashes lowering, moan in her mouth, his name, his name, his name leaking from her lips.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

He would never tire of it.

Never.

It burst again, a lewd squelch, and the insides of his thighs were soaked with viscous honey, clinging to his balls, violent throbs around his jerking length and Jungkook was gone, gone, everything accumulating at the peak and shattering down, his deep moan flooding the room, shooting his orgasm into the condom as his quivering cock was clenched all around, unbearable euphoria that he welcomed, letting it consume every nerve and vibrate through him, a feeling he never wanted to end.

He let it swallow him, her ocean, her moonlight, her night, and he promised himself that he would never leave.

-

All in all, Jeon Jungkook hadn’t changed much. That was alright. It was clear that you both had unfinished business in the past that was being hashed out right now.

Through sex, because how else?

He was behind you, both of you kneeling on the bed, his breath on your skin, murmuring your name, wonderment and desire, leaving a trail of kisses on your shoulders and neck.

“You can bite me, you know.”

He nipped at your skin experimentally. You pinched his finger on your upper arm, the little sheepish emoji on his middle right. He squeaked and bit harder. You hummed approvingly, lowering your hand.

“You’re turning me into a crazy person,” Jungkook mumbled to the curve of your neck.

“You were already a crazy person. You just pretend you’re not.”

“That’s not true…”

You gently peeled his right hand from your arm and yanked him forward. He inhaled sharply, hard chest hitting your back as you tugged his arm forward, curving it around you.

“What non-crazy person blacks out the inner part of their elbow and tattoos the bone on the outer part as well?” you accused, rubbing his muscular forearm against your nipples, smirking at his moan, his shiver traveling through your back and to the sparks of pleasure radiating from your breasts at the lovely friction.

“Um…”

That was as far as he gave you as an answer because he had no good answers.

“Mhm.”

His hand curved around your left breast and he ran his fingers over it, tugging at your nipple. You leaned into his touch, sighing softly. Well, maybe you had been a bit harsh. He had changed. Less clumsy now, attaining his own irresistible sensuality that he probably wasn’t even aware of, considering the wavering in his tone.

“You’ve probably had better than me, huh…”

“You would be surprised at the complete inadequacy of the human race when it comes to sex, Jungkook. Most people don’t give two shits about listening to their partner’s wants.”

He pinched your nipple and you moaned, rubbing your ass against his crotch.

“You always do everything I want and even things I didn’t even know I wanted,” he mumbled.

His cock was getting the hint with every rock of your hips, rousing at the soft friction. You listened to his rapid breathing, amused, the amusement turning into fond irritation as you felt his free hand slide between your bodies, tucking his hardening length between your ass cheeks, now slowly and non-discreetly humping you.

Well.

Can’t say you were surprised.

“You’re not that hard to read, Jungkook.”

He was leaking all over the top of your ass, ramming the head into your tailbone, now both hands on your chest, forgetting to answer, too absorbed in touching you, tugging at your nipples in time with his rocking hips, lips back to your neck, biting down and sucking hard, leaving marks. There was power in his hold, passion and desperation, a needy whine vibrating in his throat, faster, harder, pinching your nipples and rubbing the tips, pulling slightly, pleasure from his lips and his hands, your own reaching back and clawing at the small of his back, leaving scratches, yes, please, harder, mark me, make me yours, and you chuckled at his declaration, you were always mine, Jungkook, and he moaned your name in affirmation, licking up your neck, hot shaking breath ghosting your ear.

“Wanna fuck you from behind.”

You sunk your nails into his skin and brought your fingers outward, flicking your wrists to leave sharp lines of lust, his moan in your wake.

“Do it,” you drawled, voice saturated with need.

He pushed you down and your caught yourself with your hands, clutching fistfuls of red silk. You heard the rip of another condom and his groan as he encased his aching length, one hand on your ass, and you spread your legs, his knees fitting between them, the head grazing your wet opening and he slid in with a shudder, filling you up and stretching you out, a little pain that dissipated as he squeezed your ass with two hands, sighing with satisfaction with you.

“I know I said I want to kiss you all the time, and I do,” he panted, stalling.

You smiled, turning your head to look over your shoulder. Jungkook looked back at you and he reached forward, driving deeper into you, making you mewl for him. He plucked the pins from your hair, one by one, undoing the perfection, tossing them aside as he spoke, shrouding your shoulders and face with cool-toned black, surreal and glamorous.

“But I think I’ve decided I also want to fuck you all the time.”

You smirked. “You don’t take much convincing, I must say.”

He eased the last pin from your hair and flicked it aside.

You heard it fall to the floor.

That one wouldn’t be found in the morning.

He grinned. “Maybe I already knew you would be amazing.”

Instead of replying, you leaned forward and then smacked your ass back into his crotch.

Jungkook reeled, hand flying back to your hip, grabbing it tightly as you roughly pushed back into him, his natural response being to thrust forward, compounding the pleasure for you and for him, looking forward again and tipping your head back, letting go, moaning for him, his hardness twitching with your sound, loud and getting louder, bodies tangled, bed creaking, clutching your ass for dear life. You lifted one hand and brought beside your hip and Jungkook gripped your forearm, your body naturally dropping lower, deepening each thrust, and that was it, the uncontrollable need resonating in his deep voice, forcefully pounding you into the mattress, thighs, crotch, balls slapping into your lower half, carnal and wild and visceral, his name and your name mixing together, filling the room with the sight, sound, and smell of sex, so strong, fuck, he was so fucking strong, and so were you, a shock every time your bodies connected, until you were wailing with the ferocity of orgasm, squirming and clutching his forearm as he held yours, clenching around his length, but this time he didn’t stop, fucking you through it, gasping for air.

“Oh fuck, yes, fuck, do it again, cum for me again, fuck, feels so fucking good, feels like you’re choking my cock…”

And he brought it out of you again, your right hand punched into the sheets, your left in his hold, moaning for him, Jungkook, fuck, Jungkook, for him then, him now, him forever, ecstasy and elation, hitting a high you thought didn’t even exist, lust and trust and love, raising your torso and slamming your palm onto the headboard, rattling the whole damn bed.

“Fuck!”

Slamming back onto his cock and squeezing hard, Jungkook gasping at the suddenness of the harsh throbs around his length, jolting inside you and spilling another into the condom, your head whipping to the side, spotting a mirror and there he was, head thrown back, long black hair touching his shoulders, open mouth, eyes rolled back, chest shuddering, your name a shaky moan, holding you tight, his right arm travelling, wrapping around you and lifting you up, and then it was you in the mirror, your body against his, skin to skin, his dark brown orbs shifting down, feeling your eyes on him, and then he was watching your reflections, seeing your joined bodies, panting in unison, both sweaty and spent.

You smiled at him, lit up by moonlight and mirrors.

He smiled back.

And then his hand was on your chin and he turned your head to face him, tilting his head and kissing your smile, seeing it not its reflection but the real thing, no longer only when you thought he wasn’t looking.

-

time left: 00:00

“Oi.”

Jungkook didn’t recognize that voice at all. He concluded must still be dreaming.

A finger podded his temple.

“Oi!”

He started, but the arms encircling him pinned him in place, not letting him and his naked body leave the bed. Softness pressed against his back, bare nipples rubbing against his skin. He froze.

His dick was rock-hard.

A black-haired man in a black suit with a disturbingly handsome face was glaring at him.

“You animals made a fucking mess.”

“Go away, Seokjin.”

Jungkook squeaked, unable to talk because one of the hands holding him was dancing downwards under the covers, wrapping around his impossibly stiff length. He prayed it wouldn’t start moving up and down, but it did. Slowly. Not enough, but still too much, because he didn’t really want to get jacked off first thing in the morning while someone was very clearly assessing whether or not to cause extreme bodily harm to him.

Well, he did want to get jacked off first thing in the morning.

It was the bodily harm he was less enthused about.

The man named Seokjin squinted at him and it took every fiber of Jungkook’s being to not make a goddamn peep as her fingers ghosted the head, smearing slick pre-cum over the slit.

“I want to take a shower.”

“Then go take a shower. I left towels for you,” she mumbled behind Jungkook’s back.

“Namjoon’s in the shower right now.”

“Then order us some breakfast.”

“I sent Taehyung to do that. Also, it’s noon.”

“Couldn’t you order room service?”

Seokjin shrugged and Jungkook realized his shoulders were huge. “He said he had a friend who worked in the kitchen and was going to reserve us a table.”

She raised her head, resting her chin on Jungkook’s right shoulder and pulsing his cock with her right hand under the sheets. “Taehyung has a lot of friends, doesn’t he?”

Seokjin looked at Jungkook pointedly.

“Er… yeah. T-Tons…”

Those brown eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Jungkook suspiciously. “He seems like a dork.”

“I like dorks. That’s why I keep you around.”

Seokjin stuck his tongue out childishly and yelled at the top of his lungs. “Namjoon!”

“I’m done!”

“Finally,” Seokjin grumbled, walking off and yanking the bathroom door open, barging in unceremoniously.

“Gah!”

“Gah!!!”

-

“Oh, fuck, please, d-don’t…”

“It’ll only take me a second.”

You dove under the covers and Jungkook clapped his hands over his mouth, your grip on his twitching length moving fast and tight, rubbing your tongue on the hot head, and you were right, it only took a few seconds, and then Jungkook was hissing through his fingers, now, fuck, now, and your mouth swallowed his cock, not a moment too soon as thick spurts of his orgasm shot into your throat, coating the back of your tongue, savoring his smell and his thighs under your breasts, rubbing your nipples on the muscle.

“N-No, stop, stop,” Jungkook whimpered desperately, grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up, your head popping out, smirk on your lips.

You opened your mouth and showed him your tongue covered in his cum.

“Shit, you’re going to be the death of me…”

He hurriedly nudged your chin and you closed it, grinning.

Dangerous.

Ill-advised.

Jungkook grinned back at you helplessly, holding your smiling face in his hands.

---

some time later

“I have two towels.”

“She didn’t throw her drink at me.”

“Damn. I even seduced the bartender a little bit to get those plush cotton ones.”

“She asked if she could keep the ring so she could sell it and give the money to her secret, less good-looking boyfriend so he could buy her a new ring.”

“Oh. Wait, what?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. “I said sure, because it wasn’t like the love of my life couldn’t afford her own diamonds.”

“Ah, true, true.”

“I might be slandered for a little while on the internet.”

“Nah, you won’t. Maybe for like, six hours. Then everyone’s attention span will be somewhere else. Also, your taste upgraded in their eyes, from social media influencer to burlesque dancer.”

You grinned, raising your hands to create a finger frame of your index fingers and thumbs, enclosing the handsome face of Jeon Jungkook, long black hair, silver brow piercing, dark sculpted eyebrows, big brown eyes, defined jawline, shapely pink lips, mole of his nose and cheek, and finally that perfect mole underneath his lower lip, appearing as he smiled at you, confused at what you were doing.

“Even though we all know you’re just a hopeless sucker for the class delinquent. Tsk tsk.”

His grin grew mischievous, walking over to you as you lowered your hands.

“Well, I was a shit class representative anyway.”

He leaned down to kiss you, smile to smile.

Twelve hours.

Sunset to night.

-

fin.

--

masterpost