BAD DECISIONS - JJK | FOURTEEN
The silence remains. You're twisting his chain around his neck, now. Getting the clasp to the nape of his neck instead of at the front where it had been. Jungkook watches your unfocused eyes and wonders what the fuck is running through that disco ball mind of yours.
"Hey, Byeol?"
"Mhmm?"
"You're still in control," he says so tenderly it's almost a whisper. He reaches over. Picks a rogue chunk of glitter from the strands of your hair that wisp around your face. Tucks the hair behind your ear. Lets his hand fall to chin, and tilts your face upwards. Looks you dead in the eye, and says, "I'll do whatever you're comfortable with. Nothing more, nothing less."
Bad Decision #14 - New Rules
warnings: jungkook incorrectly does a bird!!! byeols bird is unhinged!! smut - fingering!! oc hasn't shaved and jk simply prefers it that way! no kissing rule established (boo), no pet names rule established (double boo), no hand holding either!!!! jk has a huge boner <3 f receiving, nothing for him!!! rules are rules!!! mirrors <3 jk is always so chatty he he , mild hand kink?
soundtrack: nonsense - sabrina carpenter; wrong- zayn, kehlani
wc: 8k
bd total wc: 450k (on-going)
minors dni |
BD MASTERLIST | WATTPAD Ver. | A03 Ver. | SMUT INDEX
"Hey," you greet Jungkook with a coy smile by your apartment door. He smiles back. Tells you that you look like shit. Is definitely lying.
The way he looks you up and down gives it away.
Your hair is up in a claw clip, still a little uneven in colour because you don't want to put it through even more torture. A slouchy white shirt hangs off your left shoulder, and a pair of dark leggings hug your legs. It's casual. Comfy. Still got glitter on your eyes, as always.
Jungkook can't remember if you've had a discussion about yoga leggings, and how they've got a track record of giving him boners in record speed.
You haven't. You're just aware your ass looks fairly good in them. Not like it matters. Not like you need him to think your ass looks good. No, nothing like that at all.
You also haven't started a daily squat challenge. That would be immature. Flirting with danger. And even if you had, it would be incredibly stupid to leave the chart up on the kitchen fridge - which is where you beeline after you leave the door open for him.
You don't bother inviting him in, mind you. He knows he's welcome. Not because he's been there a thousand times over, nor because it's where you usually spend time together, but because the apartment is yours. He's welcome in your space.
But he is incredibly early - and you tell him as such when you curl up on the couch, tucking the piece of paper you'd swiped from the fridge door beneath a stack of magazines. Jungkook takes the spot next to you, despite the fact there are plenty of other places for him to sit instead. Part of you is tempted to kick him off.
The rest of you, though? So incredibly glad to have him close again.
"Danbi's class runs for another half an hour," you tell him as you scroll through the Netflix landing page.
It's a Monday, and neither of you have been at work today. The perks of your schedules aligning mean that Monday is always a safe bet, but you'd been in desperate need of alone time. The past few weeks have exhausted your social battery.
Jungkook gets like that sometimes, too - but he also doesn't like spending too much time in his own head, and so when a text from you had pinged through earlier that afternoon asking if he wanted to hang out, he replied almost immediately.
It's been a week. Over a week, actually. It's the first time he's seen you since you left his apartment. There's been no real discussion of what happened. A few 'i've seen your tits lol' texts here and there, but nothing that really qualifies as a grown-up conversation. You think you like it better this way; prefer the ominous unknown of the impact such a venture has had on your friendship.
For the most part, it seems like it's had minimal impact. None of which you can recognise straight off the bat, at least. Maybe he's a little more comfortable now than he once was, but you can't really tell. Not entirely.
Thing is, he always seemed comfortable before. There's never really been a need for boundaries. They came and went naturally.
Perhaps that's your problem: you got far too relaxed far too quickly.
And yet you keep a little distance. Who cares if he's seen your tits? God forbid you sit too close to one another.
"Class?" He questions, not realising Danbi was still studying.
She isn't. It's just her hobby. Something she does to unwind after spending all day chasing after unruly dogs.
You nod, eyes still on the screen, looking for something mindless to put on. He's here for the second installment of your Deadpool marathon, so you don't want to put anything worthy of investment on.
"Pole."
"Pole as in..." he says slowly, not sure of the correct term, so you help him out.
"As in pole dancing," you confirm. "She's been doing it for a while. Keeps trying to get me to join."
Jungkook doesn't look at you as he smirks, his eyes now also focused on the Netflix loading screen. "You? Pole dancing?"
There's a jovial glint in his eye, as if he thinks it's the funniest thing he's heard all afternoon. If you were to say that, he'd tell you that you're wrong. It's the funniest thing he's heard all day.
"Hey!" You kick your leg out to tap him, but he stops it before you can reach him. Squeezes his hand ever so gently around your foot. Pushes it back towards you, and holds it down. "I could be good at pole!"
He looks over to you now. "Byeol, I've seen you after twenty minutes on a treadmill. You don't have the stamina."
The smile on his lips would make it seem like he's joking - but he has seen you on a treadmill after twenty minutes. He's absolutely telling what he deems to be the truth, and the offence you take only makes him smile even more.
"Don't-" you halt your words to utter a shriek of disbelief. "Don't have the stamina? Fuck you."
"Nah," he grins. "You wouldn't have the stamina to handle me."
The conversation remains steady; a flirt between friends. Nothing more, nothing less. It's easy. Casual.
And when Danbi gets home, it doesn't change. Oh so incredibly easy. Jungkook fits into the life you've carved out for yourself, almost like there was a nook waiting just for him.
Pizza is ordered. Deadpool is played. Ryan Reynolds' ass in lycra is praised. Everything is as it should be.
When it hits midnight, and Danbi is already tucked up in bed, Jungkook makes his excuses. Gears up to leave. Mentions the fact he's got the gym in the morning. Can't be out too late.
The part of you that considers telling him to stay is quiet. Instead, you just nod and agree.
"It's a miracle you're still able to have a decent sleeping pattern," you say as you walk him to the door. "I'd be exhausted all the time."
He doesn't tell you, but he is. Really could have done with an evening to himself. Uni is ramping up, and he's worried he's gonna fall behind on his coursework already.
It's why he's pretty much radio silent for the week that follows.
Until, all of a sudden, he's not.
Jungkook: DB.
You: That's no better than disco ball.
Jungkook: It's better than BD.
You: ...Ball disco?
Jungkook: Big Ditties.
You: Oh my god.
You: I'm blocking you.
Jungkook: No you're not. Come hang out.
Jungkook: Coursework is driving me insane.
Jungkook: Need a distraction.
You: Good. Hope it does <3
Jungkook: :( comeee.
You: No :) x
You arrive a little after ten.
Jungkook is in sweats and a T-shirt, beyond the point of caring to dress up in your presence. Your dynamic is well-established by now; comfort found in the confines of your time spent together. He's got a buttered slice of toast in one hand, a dusting of crumbs detailing the tips of his fingers like the glitter on the inner corners of your eyes. He'd burnt it. You can tell by the scent that lingers in the air, and the knife marks near the crusts where he'd tried to scrape it off.
He grins, in that stupid kind of lopsided way he always does whenever he gets his way.
"Thought you said you weren't coming?"
Your lips are pursed, annoyance written along the line of your frown. The ink is water-soluble, though. One bite down on your bottom lip and it washes away. "I'm here to see the children."
He stands to the side. Opens the door just a little bit wider. "It's about time. They were about to report you to child protective services."
"Oh, yeah?" You encourage his teasing as you step over the threshold.
"Uh-huh," he continues as he bites down on the toast. It crunches beneath his teeth, but doesn't stop him from talking. "Negligent mother, they said - shoes off -" he interrupts himself when you point to your feet. "Take them to my room though."
It's curious, the way he's still keeping you hidden. The only reason for them to not be in the hallway is to stop Jimin from asking questions when he arrives home.
If you knew the grilling Jungkook's been getting ever since that evening Jimin nearly walked in on the pair of you, you'd understand. It's far easier for Jungkook if he gives his housemate as little ammunition to tease him with as he can.
But Jimin's not home. He's in Busan for the weekend.
Jungkook doesn't tell you this. He's not sure why. Part of him doesn't want to talk about Jimin with you. It's stupid, he'll admit, but he likes being your friend. Likes you being his friend. Doesn't like Jimin having one up on him.
He thinks it would be the same if he had a sister. That kind of protective nature.
But he's also seen you naked. Knows that he really can't kid himself into thinking it's entirely platonic. Is kind of confused by it all.
Just knows that he likes the way things are. Doesn't want them to change.
And so he doesn't mention Jimin.
When you enter his room, shoes tossed by his desk, you clamber up onto his bed and take a seat. There's no protest from him, no sign of it being an unwanted intrusion on his space. His sheets have been changed since your last visit, gold acrylic immediately washed away the morning after.
He takes a perch on his desk chair, swinging it around to face you. You're lit only by the lamp of his bedside table and the glow of the city coming in through his curtains. The warmth of the light makes your glitter look like crackling embers burning through the night skies.
"So," you say, all very matter of a fact. There's a demure nature to your poise. It's not very 'you'. "You requested my company?"
He nods.
"Why?"
He spins in his chair to his desk, and picks up a bird. Reads it aloud. "Invite a girl over."
You look at him for a moment, and purse your lips. He's an idiot.
"We both know that this isn't what that means."
"Why not?" He says as if he's genuinely without a clue.
"Because!"
You don't elaborate. Think there's no need. He knows exactly why not - but he's an insolent little fucker when he wants to be.
"No, because what, Byeol?" He says with a grin. He knows you're right. Doesn't care.
"Because," you emphasise. "We both know that inviting a girl over is so much more than just a simple act of asking her to come round. There are layers to it. Innuendo. It's like asking if she wants ramyeon, Kook. You know this."
There's a grin on his lips that he's trying to hide - and is failing miserably.
"The bird says-"
"Oh, fuck off," you laugh. "It doesn't matter what the bird says. You know what it means."
"Yeah," he feigns innocence to his misdemeanour, eyes all wide and watery. So deep brown in colour it feels like a black hole is just sucking you in. Will never let you leave. God help the next girl who falls in love with him. "It means that I have to invite a girl to my place." He gestures towards you. Shakes his head. "You are a girl, no?"
"You've seen my tits, no?"
"You can't use tits as a qualifier," he tells you. "Not when you insist I also have tits."
"Touche - but still. It doesn't matter if I'm a girl. I'm not a girl girl."
"What does that even mean?" He scoffs, but he knows what you mean. Knows that the risk of rejection from you isn't the same as it is with a random girl. Knows that you're an exception. Not the rule.
"Like, a romantic interest," you say, well-aware he doesn't need it explaining. You just think you need to say it for your own sake. "I'm a friend. It doesn't say invite a friend round, does it?"
"Okay, but it doesn't not say that, does it?"
You're stern as you stare him down. "Jungkook."
"Byeol," he replies with a grin so cheeky it's impossible to remain poised.
You roll your eyes. Lie down. Wave your arm in the air. "C'mere."
He doesn't relent. Doesn't say no. Just stands. Walks to his bed, and flops down beside you.
"Gimmie your phone," you say, but he refuses. "Don't be a pussy."
"I'm not. You're just not getting my phone."
You sit up. Rest on your elbow and look down at him. His eyes are closed. "Why not?"
"Because."
There's a smile tickling your lips. He's imitating you - but he also doesn't feel like explaining. Doesn't feel like trying to find a valid reason beyond 'I'm scared'.
"What happened to facing your fears, huh?" You poke his cheek. "You gonna be a coward? How is that gonna help you?"
"Byeol," he whines, tilting his head to avoid your continued poking. It's annoying, and deliberate. You want him frustrated. Want him proactive. Want him a little riled up. "Stop."
You don't.
"Byeol."
"I'll stop when you stop being a baby," you tell him, poking at his other cheek. Your finger travels all over his face, poking and prodding, ignoring the way he bats you away.
"Stop."
"You stop."
"Byeol."
And still, you don't. At least not until his fingers clasp around your wrist, holding it far away from his face.
"I said stop," he says with a voice so low it's almost a growl. His eyes are still closed. He pulls your hand to his chest. Holds it there. Is vaguely aware of the fact he's drawn you closer. Had almost made you lose your balance entirely.
It's not until you speak that he realises quite how close you actually are. Hears how quiet you are, too.
"And I told you to stop being a baby."
He opens his eyes. Takes you in. You're resting on his chest, thanks to his grip on your wrist and where he's positioned it. Neither of you seem to remember the concept of breathing.
You're close. Closer than he intended. So close he could probably count every single speck of glitter on the inner corner of your eyes. So fucking close. He thinks of the last time you were this close.
Also thinks of the fact he's now wearing sweats, and really shouldn't be thinking about you naked. Not again.
But he is, though it's not your body he's thinking of; it's your eyes, and the glitter that had been caught in your lashes beneath the water of his shower. How you'd glistened. And then fuck it, he's thinking of the way you showed him your fingers, all dainty and pretty, covered in your own-
"Fuck," you hiss in surprise, breaking from his gaze. His eyes fall to his chest, where the culprit of the interruption lies.
Another bird; resting pretty just below his ribs. It moves, up and down, with the contractions of his lungs. Jungkook looks to you, then back to the bird. You sit up straighter and pinch it from his chest. He just lets you, because he doesn't wanna be the one to do it.
He can tell from the wing shape alone that it's one of yours - and even if he couldn't, the way you groan and let your body fall onto his in defeat is a clear sign. He laughs. Strokes his hand up your arm, then ruffles at your hair.
"How bad is it this time?"
You just whine again.
"That bad?"
Nodding into his chest, you hold out the bird for him to take. Only once his chest begins to stutter beneath you, laughter taking hold of his lungs, do you sit up.
"Stop," you tell him, pouting.
He doesn't stop laughing. Serves you right for not listening to him earlier. "Christ, Byeol. Are any of these birds-"
"No," you cut him off before he can finish.
He sighs. Looks up at the ceiling. Shakes his head. Holds the bird to his chest.
"Let's think about this logically first," he says, because it's the only way he can think to not let things get out of hand again like he did last time. "Let's talk about it before we do it instead of after."
You nod. Take a deep breath. "Okay. What are you thinking?"
He looks at you and then back up at the birds. Scrunches his face up.
"I'm thinking... Fuck, alright, I'll be honest. I haven't done..." he trails off, cringing at himself. "Since my ex - although, technically she isn't an ex, but you know what I mean - since her..."
You wait with bated breath. Know what he's getting at. "You haven't done this in a while?"
He's silent. Lets his head turn to face you. "Haven't done this in a while."
"It's okay. We don't have-"
"No," he says. "A bird is a bird. I want to do it."
"You do?"
"Well," he considers, pretending like it's the first time. He's thought about this a lot; the mechanics of your situation, how it plays out in the future. Risk assessment. He's good at those. Has to do so many of them at university that he's started drawing one up one for the pair of you in his head. "I mean if my birds are making me approach girls, chances are things will head in the direction of hooking up, right?"
You suppose he's right. Tell him as much.
"So it'd be good for me to get practise in, right?"
"You think you need it?" You grin.
"No. But I enjoy it," he says. Holds his palms up above his head. Observes them. "I like using my hands."
They're large. One of them is covered in tiny tattoos, the other completely bare. Thin veins hide beneath his honey skin, the tendons always protruding just a little bit. The kind of hands that would be good to hold.
"You've got nice hands," you admit.
Long fingers. Thick knuckles. Well-trimmed nails. Perfect hands, you consider, but will never divulge. Wouldn't want to boost his ego so much.
"Have you been checking them out?" He teases.
"You made me!" you laugh, deflecting, then imitating his voice. "'Look in the mirror, Disco Ball, blah blah blah. Eyes on me. Watch what I do.' I didn't have a choice."
"Sure," he taunts, but he knows you're probably not being dramatic. He really did make you watch yourself, and is probably gonna do it again. Seemed to work well the last time.
He places his hands beneath the side of his head, and takes a moment to check how you're feeling.
You reciprocate his actions. Look at him for a little while. Neither of you say a word. It's like you're mentally preparing for what's about to happen; making sure that it's okay. Giving one another the chance to back out.
You won't, though. Far less of a coward than Jungkook. Too much pride.
"How do we do this?" you whisper.
He smiles. Just faintly. Tenderly. "However is most comfortable for you."
"Well, yeah," you smile back. It's sweet that he feels the need to clarify this. "But I mean, literally. Logically. How do we- Like- Do I just... take my trousers off?"
"I mean, it could be a start," Jungkook laughs. "We're thinking about it too hard."
You groan. Look to the ceiling with an embarrassed smile. You're both a little awkward, but it definitely feels like the awkwardness is mainly your problem today.
"Did you... with Jimin. Did you do this?" Jungkook asks. He's not sure why. Just wants to know.
The bird lies between you both. Has just two words on it. No exclamation points this time, but still with capital letters. Somehow feels less vulnerable to you than the last one.
GET FINGERED.
You consider not answering. Think it's kind of shitty to air Jimin's laundry in such a way - but it's just as much about you as it is him. More so, even.
"Not really," you admit. "A little bit. I hurried him along."
Jungkook pauses now. Thinks. Asks, "hurried?"
"It's just kind of what I do," you sigh, pulling your knees a little further up. Closing off. Protecting yourself. Jungkook pushes them back down again. You let him. "I don't really let people touch me, in that regard. I let them fuck me. Don't let them... have me."
Jungkook wants to ask what that entails, but figures you'd have shared it if you wanted to.
"I guess," you continue slowly, quickly glancing away, before deciding that his eyes are what you wanna see when you explain your relationship with sex. You want him to understand - and so you look back to him. He doesn't take his eyes off of you. "I kind of focus on the other person, yanno? For me, sex? Now? It's validation, I guess. Proving to myself I can still give people some form of... I don't know. Satisfaction? So yeah. I don't really want people touching me, as such. I'll touch them. I'll get them off. And I'd prefer it if they didn't get me off."
"It's a power thing, isn't it?" Jungkook theorises. "Control?"
You're silent. Just shrug. Maybe.
"I think - and you can tell me to shut up if you want - but I think that maybe it's because of your ex. He always held the cards?" Jungkook pauses, but you don't respond. Just look at his chest. Toy with the silver chain around his neck. "And this is your way of holding them instead?"
The silence remains. You're twisting his chain around his neck, now. Getting the clasp to the nape of his neck instead of at the front where it had been. Jungkook watches your unfocused eyes and wonders what the fuck is running through that disco ball mind of yours.
"Hey, Byeol?"
"Mhmm?"
"You're still in control," he says so tenderly it's almost a whisper. He reaches over. Picks a rogue chunk of glitter from the strands of your hair that wisp around your face. Tucks the hair behind your ear. Lets his hand fall to chin, and tilts your face upwards. Looks you dead in the eye, and says, "I'll do whatever you're comfortable with. Nothing more, nothing less."
You shake your head. "You get a say in this. It's not all up to me."
"I know I do," Jungkook replies without missing a beat. "If I didn't want to do something, I wouldn't. You're in control, but I can't be forced to do anything. Good luck trying if you think I can be."
You narrow your eyes a little. "So you're saying you want to do stuff with me?"
He grins. "Well, I don't find you entirely repulsive, even if you are incredibly annoying."
"Always a charmer."
"It's how I get all those girls - oh, wait," he jokes. Pauses. Thinks. Sighs. "Look, I'd rather work through my issues before I fuck up yet another relationship, and from the looks of it, you'd rather work through yours too. It just makes sense."
"I mean, we could just get therapy."
"Expensive."
"Time-consuming," you agree.
"This is far easier," he smirks, before deciding that you've had enough serious chats. There's no point running around in circles again. And so he decides to lighten the mood. "Now do you wanna get fingered or not?"
"Oh my god!" You slap at his chest and roll onto your back, laughing. "You're fucking vulgar."
"Is that a no?"
"It's an 'ask nicely, Jungkook.'"
He rolls onto his back, now. Laughs, too. "Is that what you want? For me to play nicely?"
"You're not playing at all, yet," you remind him.
There's hesitancy from both of you. It's a little awkward, and so unlike you - but there's no alcohol in your system like there was the first time a bird was attempted, and no excuse to touch like there was with the paint.
This one is just you and Jungkook.
"Can I go freshen up first?" You ask, a little nervous and highly aware of the fact you hadn't come with the intention of getting Jungkook in your underwear. He says of course, but you're halfway out of the door regardless.
As soon as you're in the bathroom, you're rummaging around in the cupboard - praying - looking for a disposable razor of sorts. You know Jungkook keeps his good one in his room, next to his towels.
Apparently, Jimin just loves to share regardless of what it is, much to Jungkook's dismay. It's not like Jimin's razor is here either - he's taken it with him to Busan.
Your search is fruitless, and when you return to Jungkook's room a little unsure of yourself, jeans off and tossed onto his desk chair, he can sense there's something wrong.
"I haven't shaved," you sort of blurt out, much to his surprise.
"Okay?" He grins, drying off his wet hands that he'd washed in the kitchen while you were gone. "Nor have I? You want a medal?"
"No, I just-"
"Thought I'd care?" He questions, a little bit offended. "First things first, this isn't about me. It's about you. And secondly, I kinda like it - so I really don't care."
"You like it?"
"I like pussy," Jungkook simply states. "Like it no matter what way it's served up."
"You're not eating it."
"Not yet."
"You are unbelievable."
"Believe it, Byeol," he winks, perching on the end of his bed. Reaching out, he encourages you closer. Gets you standing between his legs. "Enough fucking around though. I think we should set out some ground rules."
"Ground rules?" You question, knowing it's probably smart. Aren't sure why you didn't think of it first.
He knows why. Casual sex isn't that much of a big deal to you.
Jungkook's not good at the whole unattached sex thing, though. He only really sleeps with girls he's interested in romantically.
A boy that looks like him? You had expected him to have well over a dozen notches on his bedpost - but he can count them all on one hand.
It's not that he's a prude, or vanilla, or anything like that. Jungkook fucks. He fucks well. He just fucks the same people for extended periods of time. Takes comfort in routine. No chance to sleep around when you're as loyal as a dog.
You're the exception, not the rule. Time and time over, it becomes more and more apparent.
"Rules," he nods.
"No kissing," you reply almost immediately.
"No-" he's about to protest, but then nods. "No kissing."
In fact, he actually agrees with you. He loves kissing. Might even like it more than blowjobs. Would happily take an hour make-out session in lieu of foreplay. For him, it is foreplay.
And so despite how desperately sad he is to know he won't get his favourite thing, he understands why.
He only likes it because of how intimate it is.
"Anything else?"
You take a moment to think, and then decide, "No hand holding, either. And no pet names."
"Not even Byeol?"
"At this point, I'm not even sure you remember my real name, Kook. Byeol is fine."
He nods, then scrunches his nose in a little disgust.
"God." He dry-retches. "Imagine calling you something like baby." He retches again, a light grin tickling his lips as you scoff in offence. "Yeah, no you wouldn't suit anything cute."
"You're so lucky that the idea of you calling me baby repulses me," you flirt right back.
"Oh yeah?" he smirks - and then he's toying with the hem of your shirt. Pushing it up. Ghosting the lace of your thong with the tips of his fingers. "You'd hate it, would you?"
His fingers creep down. The pads of his fingers trace the tops of your thighs. Skirt the lace trim of your panties where they cover your pussy. Has your heart beating at a mile a minute.
"Would be such a turn-off."
The way his eyes scan your face has you wanting to take back every single rule you've just set.
"So you're telling me you're turned on, now?"
His words are met with a shrug. "I don't know, Jeon. Am I?"
"If I'm not allowed pet names, there's no way in hell you're allowed Jeon."
"No?"
He stands. Towers above you. Turns you round. Lowers his head, and lets his lips ghost your ear. "Not unless you wanna get me hard."
You fucking giggle. It's sin. When you turn your head ever so slightly to whisper in his ear, he thinks about saying fuck it to the birds. Needs more than what they're providing.
"I can feel you. You're already hard, Jeon."
He pulls away from you. Palms at his crotch. You're right. And so he just smirks. "Fine. Harder."
"Wouldn't that be a shame," you tease - but are met with a show of dominance you've haven't seen before from Jungkook as clasps both of your wrists together just above your ass. Positioning you just where he had you last time he was in your room, you know your underwear is getting ruined.
The view reflected back in his full-length mirror only makes your heart beat even faster.
"I won't lie," he swallows back the nerves that he was able to hide while he was flirting. Down his throat they go, settling next to his heart that's already beating a mile a minute. Positioning himself behind you, he encourages you both to the floor. You're sitting in front of him, as he kneels behind you and pulls you back a little. "You're right. I'm already real fucking hard, Byeol."
"Really?" You smirk. "Couldn't tell."
He tilts his head back. Groans. "God, I hate you. I want you to ignore it, okay? It's my problem to deal with."
All you can do is nod.
"Okay," he says softly as he leans around to position your legs how wants them: bent at the knees. Spread. You're on display - and Dear lord, what a treat for the audience. A treat for him. "Look in the mirror. Watch me, okay? Watch my hands."
And you do; watch the way his palms lay flat on your knees, then slowly, gradually, trickle down your thighs. "What do you say if you wanna stop?"
"Chess," you say, ending the word with a gasp as his thumbs brush the outer lace of your panties.
"Good girl," he hums into your ear, but you can barely hear him over your beating heart as his thumb begins to stroke over your clothed pussy. You're already soaked. It wets his thumb. Has him smirking. "Told you so."
He pushes the lace to the side. Exposes you. Makes him curse. Is slow as he sinks a single finger into you.
He keeps it shallow. Just the first two knuckles. Just enough to let you know he's there. You can still see the ink on his finger.
The moan you exhale is desperate. Needy. Gets him all smug.
"Just testing the waters," he husks into your ear as he pulls it back out, before the pads of his fingers begin to massage around your entrance. He's teasing. Caressing. Doing shit you've only ever had women do to you. The dudes you've fucked have never really cared for stimulation beyond the clit; haven't understood that the right touches in slightly different places can get you so fucking needy.
Needy like you mean it. Not the bratty kind, where you're in control; the pathetic kind, where they're in control.
He's massaging. Using his thumb and forefinger. Working his way up your labia; left side, then right. Up, then down.
It's not like the sensation is anywhere close to what it feels like when his fingers are elsewhere, but it's the fact he's doing it all that really gets you flustered. He's careful. Delicate. Wants you to feel good.
When you let out a moan, you can feel him smirk against you. He lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes his middle finger inside; fully this time. Pumps into you once, twice - "are you always this wet?" - then begins to stroke against your front wall. You whine.
He pushes into you again. Tells you how fucking hot you sound. Pulls out. In again. And then he builds speed. Fucks his finger into you. Just one - but it's enough.
Finally, you answer him between laboured breaths.
"Dunno. You'll have to do this again sometime and figure it out."
Withdrawing his finger, Jungkook rubs small circles over your clit. Holds onto you tighter. Smirks as your whimpers begin to build. His nose nestles into your hair, lips against your ear. "You want that, huh?"
The way your hips push up and grind against his languid movements should be indication enough - but you don't want to give him the satisfaction. Not yet, at least.
You smirk right back. "Meh. You could always just compare notes with Jimin, instead."
He pauses for a split second. Scoffs. Sinks his finger back into you. Builds pace. Can hear the sounds of your soaked cunt and knows that it would be cruel to compare. Jimin wouldn't stand a chance. There's no way he had you like this, too.
And Jungkook would be right. The way Jungkook has you now is unlike any of your hookups. You're sober, for a start, and that always helps in the wetness department - but you are wetter than you've been in a fair while.
His fingers are long. Intentional in the way they move. His middle finger hits all the right spots as it pushes into you. He curls it gently without needing to be told. He just knows. Can feel the slight difference in texture. Had trained himself to find it in the past, and is pleased to see yours is just as easy to locate.
You don't think Seokjin ever found it. Not really. For a while, you pretended he could - but it never felt like this.
"Kook," you rasp, ridding your mind of all thoughts of Seokjin. He's no right to be in your brain when it's someone else making you feel so good. "Right there. Right there. Fuck."
"I know," he husks. "Can you take another?"
All do you do is nod. Moan something incoherent. You want more.
He can tell.
"Can you take three?" he asks. You just fucking nod. Will take what he gives you. "Mhhm?"
He bites down the syllables, stopping the 'baby' he wants to mewl from coming out. He knows pet names are a no, but it's a force of habit. It's just like the muscle memory in his fingers knowing how he should touch you; something well trained, well practised.
He doesn't relent. Keeps going. Has your cunt stuffed with his fingers. Will make you cum.
It's just as much for him now as it is for you. He's watching your face, how you refuse to open your eyes, how your dewy lips are rested ajar, soft moans humming from your throat.
He kind of hates the rules. Knows they serve a purpose, and that they're smart, but it'd be so much easier for him if he could kiss you.
It's not that he actively wants to make out with you, it's just that it comes naturally to him. He doesn't think he's ever been inside a woman without actually kissing her. There's a sizable portion of his brain which is having to work against his instincts, now. If he didn't have to waste that energy, he could spend it on you instead.
But it also makes it exciting. A little sordid. You've removed the romance he typically associates with a position as promiscuous as this. Maybe he is capable of fucking around.
"I know," he husks as your body writhes beneath his touch. "Ba-" Shit. "Byeol, I know. That feel good?"
Feel good? Feel good? What kind of a fucking question is that? If you could form a coherent sentence instead of moaning every other second, you'd ask him as such. Instead, you settle with, "fuck."
"Should I take that as a yes?" he smirks against your hair, his second hand dropping from the grip it has on your waist down to your pussy. Pushing your thighs a little further apart, Jungkook has you in the palm of his hand like a fucking ragdoll. His hands work in tandem, fingers plunging into your while he rubs dainty circles over your clit, careful to not be too aggressive. He's taking his time. Building your high.
"Take it as a 'you could do better'," you whine, just to wind him up a little. He's doing fucking fantastic.
"Better?" He sounds offended, but is smirking, watching pleasure take hold of your features. He loves the way you goad him on. Knows you must be a right little brat in the right scenario. Think maybe one day, he'd like to experience it fully. For now, he simply growls into your ear. "Open your eyes. Look at yourself." He builds his pace. The sounds of him sliding into you are lewd. Soaking. Sopping wet. "You hear that? Tell me to do better again. Go on. I dare you."
Your gaze opens, all hazy and cum-drunk, falling on the mirror. Your skin is dewy, and the incident positioning of your spread legs puts you on full display.
Jungkook withdraws his fingers. Spreads your lips open. Holds his stare on you. Watches as your wetness drips from your entrance. Rubs circles on your clit. Encourages more. Watches as it seeps from you. Presses his hips upwards to let you know he's still fucking solid for you. He gathers your leaking slick on his index and middle finger, then pushes it back into you.
He's panting, too.
And so you smirk. Watch the pained lust in his eyes. Tell him, "do better," in a hushed whisper.
He's slow. Lets his touches linger. Doesn't pump into you like he had been - instead, he scissors his fingers ever so gently - and that's when you decide he's a menace to society and that you're probably doing the world a favour by keeping him off the streets for a little while longer.
"Holy shit," you hiss, and then your fingers are wrapped around his wrist again. He fucking laughs.
His nose nuzzles into your hair, his smirk not hiding his teeth. He's thinking about kissing you again. Just a small one. On the side of your head. Has to talk just to stop himself.
"That better, Byeol?"
All you can do is whine. Nod a little.
"Can't hear you. I asked a question. Give me an answer," he teases. "Now, is this better, Byeol?"
"No," you lie. "Considerably worse."
"Fine," he says, and pulls out. Grips your thighs with his soaked fingers. Squeezes them together. Lets you pant for a little while. He's panting, too. "On your knees."
"Sorry?"
"You will be," he smirks, changing his position behind you. "Get on your knees."
And so you do. You relinquish trust to him. Feel like you might have a heart attack from how fast it's beating - but he knows this. Strokes the curve of your hip. Hugs you into his chest ever so slightly and says, "the minute it gets too much, or you decide you've done enough... just say the word, Byeol."
He nuzzles his nose against your hair. Likes the way it smells. Hugs you a little tighter, still.
You nod. "At least tell me how you want me, first?"
It's the mental preparation you need, much more than physical. He knows this. Knows that his teasing has a time and a place. What was okay a few moments ago would be too brash now - so he tries a little tenderness once more.
He waits for you to look at him. Not in the mirror this time, but head turned, eyes on his. The glitter on your eyes catches in the light. Reflects in his eyes. Puts stars in them.
"On your front. Head down," he says slowly, not wanting it to sound crude. "Ass up. Or just flat on your front, if you'd rather. Up to you. Wait-" He stands, holding out his hand for you to take. When you do, he pulls you up and guides you to his bed instead. Lets you sit. He still stands. "Just realised I was asking you to be facedown on the literal floor. My bad."
You don't say anything, just smile at the fact he realised it. Such a boy, and yet such a gent. He's trouble, there's no doubt about it. As your eyes study his face, he seems sincere - and so you turn. Lean forward. Stretch out. Face down, ass up.
"Fuck," he hisses and gets on his knees behind you. One of his hands grapples at your ass, fingers sinking into the peachy flesh. He strokes against the soft skin, and then asks, "how do you feel about spanking?"
You smirk into his sheets. Plunge even further into them. Raise your ass even higher. "It's not on the bird."
His fingers dig further into your cheek. You're mewling. He's getting delirious again. "Byeol..."
The way you move your hips ever so slightly is absolute sin. You know you're trying to make him crack. You know it's working. "Mhmm?"
He pulls you back. Presses the bulge in his trousers against you. He's still hard. Harder, even. His hands are on your hips, keeping you close, even as he retracts - before pulling you tight to him. Repeats. Ruts himself against you a couple more times.
"If one of those birds doesn't end with me fucking you-"
"You'll what?" you say with a sardonic smile as you twist your body around and out of his grasp. You're on your back now, reaching for his shirt, pulling him down.
He complies. Tangles his legs with yours. Lets his hand cup your heat. Toys with you. Teases.
"What will you do, huh?" You flirt. "Die?"
He smirks now, too. Knows that you're taking the piss. Quite likes it. Likes that you remember the shit he says when he gets too horny for his own good.
"Maybe," he husks, sinking his fingers inside you again. Didn't even get to have you how he wanted you, but he likes this. Likes the flirt. Likes how erratic your breathing gets.
"Guess you'll just have to - fuck - keep waiting for them to fall," you turn a little. Hook your leg over his hip. Grind against him. Ride his fingers. "See if you get what you want."
"I'm incredibly patient," he lies. Builds the speed he's fucking them into you at. Uses the hand that's not bringing you closer and closer to climax to hold your chin. Wants to keep you looking at him.
"Liar."
"I'll do this for hours if it means making you cum," he almost snarls over the sound of your moans.
You laugh. Stutter on the moans in your throat. Tell him good luck. Let him know that you can't remember the last time someone else made you orgasm. You can do it yourself, easy. Someone else? Good fucking luck.
"Fine. We're gonna make you cum," he says as if it's a group activity - but then he drops his grip from your chin and reaches to the hand of yours that had been hooked over his shoulder. Guides it to your pussy. "Get yourself off."
You stare at him for a moment. His pace eases, but his gaze doesn't drop. He's slow. Rubs at you just in the right way. And then he says, "get yourself off while I'm inside you."
You say nothing. Do as you're told.
"Good girl."
It doesn't take long. If anything, it's embarrassing how quickly he has you coming undone. Admittedly, you're just as much a part of it as he is. Without your input, maybe he would have had to have been going for hours.
But you are involved, and you're shaking around him. Legs trembling. Toes pointed. Head buried into his chest, fingers wrapped around his wrist to stop him from overstimulating you too much. His name escapes your lips as your orgasm ripples through your muscles, and Jungkook just fucking laughs.
"So fuckin' hot," he praises, lips pouty, in desperate need of a kiss to offset the fact he's practically leaking precum into his pants.
Rules are rules, though. They're not made to be broken. Not these ones.
He withdraws from you, and wipes the mess on his sheets. Will deal with it later. Watches you as you giggle to yourself, orgasm well and truly delivered. When your eyes open and focus on him, Jungkook is pleased. You look content.
"I'm still scared," you simper. "We might have to practise that one a few times."
He laughs now, too. Rolls onto his back. Can smell your arousal on his fingers. Has never been more hungry in his entire life.
"Such a liar."
But you both are, in your own ways.
"Maybe. Thank you... for that," you say, very aware of the unfair dynamics of just you getting off, but knowing that without a fallen bird to specify it, there's no way you can just reciprocate.
"Pleasures all mine," he says, as if he isn't letting himself get severely blue-balled. Knows what the agreement is though. You getting him off now would be just for his benefit. He laments the fact he's not scared of blowjobs. Wishes all of his birds were like yours, now.
The silence consumes you both. Has you wondering why you never come undone like that normally. Makes you think maybe you need to stop preventing people from touching you in such a way. Jimin had tried. You can remember - but you'd dismissed him.
He's not the only person you've dismissed in such a way. Perhaps you will enjoy casual sex more if you don't keep your desires at bay. Maybe Jungkook's been right about this all along.
"Anyways," you turn to face him. "Phone."
"Hmm?"
"Well, we've done my bird. We need to do yours from earlier."
Jungkook says nothing. Is a little bit confused. He's still hard. You've barely come down from your orgasm. Surely nows not the time?
You couldn't disagree more even if you tried. It's the perfect time. Stops you from thinking about how fucking good that was, and how much you want it to happen again.
"You... want me to invite a girl round?"
"Well, not while I'm still here" you consider. "Like, text them now, but arrange it for another time."
"Yeah, but-" Jungkook wants to protest. Wants to remind you that his sheets are covered in you. Instead, he just looks at the ceiling, a little baffled.
"If it's too much, why don't you just text a girl, at least?"
He frowns. You don't notice, because you're looking at the ceiling, too.
But then he sighs. Maybe you're right. Maybe he is being a coward.
"Alright," he reaches for his phone from the nightstand. Unlocks it, and opens up his Instagram DMs. Looks over to you. Catches your gaze. Smiles, despite the uneasy feeling in his stomach. "What do I say?"
BD MASTERLIST | WATTPAD Ver. | A03 Ver. | SMUT INDEX
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