Tumgik
#jk the cat only scratches !!!!
thechildisgone · 8 months
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just a little angel…
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kerokerokook · 7 months
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the rebound girl: chapter two
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pairing: nerd pro-gamer jeongguk x reader
word count: 25.5k wtf
warnings for this chapter: oc just goes for it, jeongguk is hot as usual, lots of kissing, finally some smut, first time, virgin jk!, subby jk! with dom! reader at first but that changes, oral (m. receiving), oral fixation, fingering, jeongguk does the lower stomach trick from tiktok (iykyk), he's a little shit but it's okay.
other tags: lots of overthinking, oc goes back and forth a whole bunch (she's confused and hurt ok), jeongguk is a giant MF green flag (obvi), vmin and 2yeon being chaotically gay ofc, some brief physics mentioned, a bit of angst, oc has been hurt in her teen years.
a/n: sorry this took 9 million years but ya girl just got into her masters program!! hopefully, i can update this once/twice a month? maybe even more but, that's the plan!
enjoy :)
<3 mal
original post
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧
The first day of school hit you in the face like a speeding fourteen-wheel truck. 
Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration because you’ve known the date since the beginning of summer break but time flew by so quickly that you couldn’t believe September was starting and another school year was too. 
Soon, you’ll graduate and get a job and move on from all of the shit you’ve gone through to become a whole adult. It’s terrifying yet exciting all at once. 
Fortunately, you picked out your outfit last night: baggy blue jeans, a white cropped tank top and an oversized black corduroy button up shirt. It’s simple and comfy which you always prefer for school outfits. Simple gold jewelry sits on your neck and in your ears and you keep your hair back with a clear claw clip. You keep your makeup light, being that you’ll be back home in a few hours where you’ll just slip back into your pajamas and do nothing for the rest of the day.
While packing your things, you make sure to tuck Jeongguk’s t-shirt that you’ve washed and his umbrella into your backpack, then give Snowball her last few pets for the day while checking her food and water bowl. 
“I’ll be back in a few hours cutie,” you coo, scratching underneath her chin. Her head tilts up, a content smile on her cute face, eyes shut while pushing into your touch.
Adopting Snowball sort of just happened. You were lonely last Winter break after a guy you met in your Economic Growth Seminar had moved on and your mom was talking about how your neighbor’s cat just had a litter of kittens. Thankfully, your landlord was okay with pets and boom, there was a little fluff ball making your day better little by little. After a long day, there was nothing you liked doing more than stroking her soft fur and listening to music or throwing a movie on while she purrs right next to you. She’s a great comfort to you and your friends love her too.
Tearfully, you rip yourself away from your little baby and step outside of your comfortable apartment. The hallway is empty at this time. Your building has mostly college students and a few bachelors and bachelorettes here and there so it’s surprising that no one else is walking out at the same time as you. But that’s fine. No polite greetings necessary. You put your headphones in, play some music and begin your trek to school. 
Living one subway ride away from university is a privilege. It never takes you that long to get to class and it’s easy to get back home. It’s the best thing about living here. 
Plus in the springtime, the blossoms decorate the streets with little pink petals and it’s a sight to see. 
On the way down the subway steps, you check your schedule once more just to be sure of your class load today. You have a 9am lecture, then an 11:30am lecture and then a discussion at 1:45 but those only start the second week of school every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you have classes from 8am-3pm which sounds like ass now that you think about it. 
Fuck, were you drunk when you selected these courses? 
You shake your head. Whatever, not like there’s much you can do now, right? At least you’ll be busy so less time to mess around. 
Your walk down the steps continues and you shove your phone into your jean pocket as you rush over to make the train before your first class, taking out your metro-card.
After dodging some lethargic businessmen and starstruck tourists, you manage to reach the train with a few seconds to spare. There’s a towards the back so you quickly walk over and grab the handle when there’s a vibration against your ass. 
Confused, you pull your phone out. It’s probably a tiktok sent to you by Jeongyeon of a cat with a funny filter on or something but the screen shows the message icon and you use FaceID to unlock your phone to see who the sender was.
It’s a text from Jeongguk. 
jeon jeongguk
hey
do you want to give me the stuff outside the engineering building?
maybe around 1? 
by stuff i mean my shirt and umbrella
You smile to yourself. The fact that he felt the need to explain what he meant by stuff is unbelievably adorable to you. 
me 
sure, i’ll be there :) 
You almost wonder what Jeongguk’s schedule is like but you stop yourself quickly. You tried to not to think too much about him on Sunday when you got back. It was enough that his sweet smelling shirt was on your body and you still had the lingering imprint of his hug on your skin but now that you know he  goes to the same school, you’ll become more interested and you can’t. Jeongguk isn’t going to be the next boy to occupy your mind. 
This year is going to be different. You won’t be the rebound girl anymore, you won’t sleep with guys from your school, and you won’t give in. 
After everything that went down with Wooshik, it’s just better for you to distance yourself from this stupid label of rebound girl. It’s done nothing but hurt you and worsen your relationship with the people in your department. First year you were hanging out and eating with them and now all you have are Nayeon and Jeongyeon. Not that you don’t like them but you just hate what being the rebound girl has done to your college life.
Your mother used to say your college years are your prime years to be young and stupid and learn about life. 
But college is nothing special to you. The classes are harder, people are smarter, meaner, better, and all you can do is push yourself to do the best that you can. Sometimes it’s enough, sometimes it isn’t. Your friends are great and you’ve made some good memories, but so far, college isn’t that coming-of-age life lesson that your mother always talked about. 
You’re not particularly upset about it. You just wished you could do more. Live your life without eyes all over you and whispers at every mistake. 
As the train lets you off at your spot, you make sure to triple check your schedule for the day so you know where you’re going after your first class. 
9am is your Macroeconomics lecture in the Economics building which is fine. Your professor is nice and the class seems interesting enough that you know you’ll do well. Mostly test based which won’t be a problem because economics is your thing. You’ve been studying it diligently for three years now so you can confidently say that. 
But 11:30 is your worst nightmare: physics. 
This is all your fault. Nayeon told you to get all of your general education requirements out of the way quickly your first and second year so that you wouldn’t have to worry about them later but you didn’t listen. 
Look, science is simply not your thing. High school courses were hell on earth thanks to your asshole of a Chemistry teacher. You managed to gaslight yourself into thinking math was easy enough as long as you studied like a mad person and got those requirements out of the way but science is hell on earth for you. Your university requires one life science and two physical sciences. Life science was an easy choice: zoology. You got to learn about cute animals and watch videos about them. First semester of your first year was easy. 
Then you decided to take Geology for physical science during your second semester. It sounded easy but memorizing all of those different rock formations was starting to wear you out from the inside. Somehow you managed a B. And after that, it was either meteorology, astronomy, or some form of physics since every other course required you to be enrolled in the Physical Sciences department or have some prerequisite that you didn’t want to take. None of the options sounded appealing to you so you put it off until now. Then, when the realization hit that you had only one more year after this to make up for all of those credits, you decided astronomy might be the best choice after reading some professor reviews. 
Only for you to sleep through registration and wake up in a frenzy to find the class completely full. 
Yeah, you almost started crying.
So physics it was and, how wonderful, the only class available was with an unlikeable teacher that has a horrible rating. Amazing. 
Panic floods your system as you walk into the large lecture hall. You aim for a seat in the middle, take out your supplies, and start diligently listening. Your professor is a stout, sad, little man who is trying to improve his professor score online so thankfully, he says he’s going to be more lenient when it comes to tests but demands that homework be turned in on time otherwise points will be deducted. Fair enough. You could do that. 
But then he starts going into course material. 
Energy; alright. 
Motion; cool. 
Thermodynamics; okay.
Optics; excuse me?
Electromagnetism; sound the alarms. 
This class is going to kill you. Even if it’s Physics 1 and your class is filled with mostly underclassmen, you know you won’t grasp the concepts easily with all of your other classes weighing down on your head. There’s so much to do and so little time to do it all. 
“.. previous students of mine have so graciously offered tutoring hours so if any of you are confused, I highly recommend meeting up with them and going over concepts. They have taken my tests before so they know what to expect. It is the best way to ensure you do well.”
Most of the students behind you have gone to sleep or started scrolling through their phones but you have a lightbulb moment. 
Perfect, okay. All you have to do is check the list of tutors online and schedule appointments with them. Shouldn’t be that bad.  Another thing to be strict about. 
This is just what you wanted: a tight enough schedule to keep you too busy to think about anything else.
Once class is over, you pack all of your things and check your phone once more. Jeongguk said he’d be outside the engineering building which is close to the physical sciences building. The time reads 12:50pm so you have some time to make your way outside. 
So far, the first day has ended and it’s gone pretty well. You’ll go back home, create a strict study table on your Notion, rent all of your books and then relax for the rest of the day. Then the rest of this week should be smooth sailing as you get into the groove with your new professors. Nayeon and Jeongyeon are going to meet you at your place for home-cooked dinner this Friday( a little first week back tradition) which you’re excited for.  You should look up some recipes and make sure Nayeon stays out of your kitchen so she won’t blow anything up. That girl is incapable of not making a disaster in the kitchen. 
You sigh through your nose, studying the sights you see on campus. Various students walking in small triplets or duos. The occasional lone wolf with headphones on to block out the world. Some clubs are putting up posters or setting up tables to grab first years as they explore campus. The path that is currently running outside the STEM buildings break off into various courtyards and cafes where students of all departments come to chill or cut through to go to their other classes. 
It’s about to be a great scenic walk just until you run into Wooshik and his buddies as they’re exiting a café with drinks in their hands. 
Kill me now. 
You pause like a deer in headlights when you make eye contact with him, stopping midway so your lips can part as your entire body goes stuff. 
Now, more than anything, you really wish you were walking with someone. 
“Hey,” Wooshik forces out, crossing his arms over his chest. His polo shirt is open enough to show a random cluster of dark hickeys from the middle of his throat to the beginning of his chest. Real subtle. 
Before seeing that, you were thinking about apologizing but now, not so much. 
“Hi,” your tone is short. You can feel eyes dance over your body, the swell of your breasts and the sliver of skin revealed between your crop top and pants from one of his creepy pals behind him and you have half a mind to kick him in the balls. 
Wooshik’s eyes bounce back and he juts his face forward like he’s waiting for you to say something to him but you keep your lips perfectly sealed. If he wants an apology, he can wait until he’s dead. His other friends exchange weird looks at the lack of conversation going on between you two, probably wondering if this standoff is going to linger forever. 
It makes you wonder what Wooshik told them. 
Guys love having their ego fluffed. If they get rejected by a girl, they’ll tell their best friends that she was an ugly slut or they’ll flip the story to say that they rejected her to save face. The last thing they want their friends to know is that a girl rejected them. It dims their coolness. However, you really don’t give a fuck about Wooshik looking cool in front of his boys. If anything, you revel in the cutting deflation he’ll feel when you tell them the truth. 
“Did you get the wine out of your shirt?” You ask innocently. “I should’ve aimed it more towards your face and less towards your clothes.” Shrugging, a satisfied smile grows on your lips. 
Wooshik’s ears turn red. “I–” he cuts eye contact as his friends snicker behind him. You watch in satisfaction as his expression changes from surprised to annoyed to angry. “You know what, fuck you. You ruined my shirt. I had to take that hot waitress back to my place instead of a hotel so I didn’t reek of wine.”  
You scoff immediately. “Damn and I was trying to do her a favor. But congrats, looks like you got your tiny dick wet for two minutes.” You start to clap. One of his friends chokes back a splutter of laughter at the jab. 
Wooshik wasn’t anything amazing but you sort of expected that. Most of your hookups are satisfactory. They get the job done and they give up. As stupid as it sounds, you’ve always gone above and beyond to pleasure someone. There’s something amazing about making your partner feel good but most men see sex in a selfish lens. 
For most guys, sex means sticking their dick in and sloshing it around a few times until they feel good. Boom, sex over. 
Now, if they want to make you feel good, it still won’t be about you. Orgasms are like points. They don’t get off on your pleasure but more on the fact that they’re so amazing at sex that you experienced pleasure. Another way to fluff their egos. 
For once, you’d wish for a guy to actually care about you and your pleasure in an unselfish way, the same way you do for them. 
Wooshik stumbles for a moment but he jumps back quickly to get you too. Especially with all of his boys watching. 
“You didn’t seem to complain about it at first. What, changed your mind because I didn’t want you anymore?” 
Oh, please. A plastic vibrator has done more for you than he ever will. 
You laugh sardonically. “No, I just felt bad for you.” You say it wholeheartedly and it's the most truthful you’ve ever been with him. 
His friends then burst into giggles and snickers, shoving him around when he fails to retort, left dumbfounded by the sheer audacity of you but you don’t care. You don’t get to see the look on Wooshik’s face but you don’t care. The laughter is your cue to leave him. 
 That chapter of your life is over now and you won’t ever have to deal with him again. The last man you’ll let trample all over you the minute you show them some sympathy. 
All you can hope is that the pesky nickname that’s been poisoning you since your first year college can fade away into obscurity forever and ever. 
Then, you can just be you. No label, no nickname, no reputation. Just a regular college senior. 
The walk to the engineering building is lighter now. You feel like one of the falling petals gently flying through the sky from the branch down to the ground. A new journey begins and you can’t wait for it. 
After another minute of walking, you reach the engineering building. Painted a soft brown with tons of posters and clubs waiting to talk to students. You dodge all of them to head inside where Jeongguk is waiting by a random classroom. You navigate through the crowd until you finally locate a  mop of gorgeous dark hair and bright clear eyes. 
He’s facing his phone screen, one leg crossed over the other, but you’re still mesmerized by him. Beauty is in simplicity but with a face like that, Jeongguk could wear a burlap sack and make it work. But currently, he’s dressed in baggy gray cargos and a dark blue long-sleeve shirt with some brand name logo on it. The urge to sigh like a satisfied cartoon character is intense. 
You hate and love it at the same time. How on earth can he look so boyfriend without trying? 
“Hey, Jeongguk,” you call softly, taking short strides towards him, hoping that your hair looks good and not like a frizzy mess from the wind. 
His head pops up, glimmering eyes like two black pools of water gazing back at you. Then a soft grin forms on his lips, skin creasing, dimpling, and cute. 
“Hey.” Jeongguk tucks his phone into his pants pocket. His perfume wafts over to you the moment he moves, welcoming you like a warm hug after a long day. 
You want to bury your nose in it and never forget the smell. 
“Sorry, I got caught up with something on the way here. Were you waiting for a while?”
“Nah, I’ve been here for like two minutes. Did you bring it?” He adjusts his bag for a moment. 
“Yep.” You hand him the shirt, neatly folded and smelling of your fabric softener, along with the umbrella tied. “All clean.” A cute smile grows on his face as he gently takes the items and puts it in his bag, humming excitedly under his breath which makes your entire body warm. “Listen, are you off for the rest of the day?” 
“Yeah, I have all morning classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. You?”  
“Same and it just so happens that I needed a walking buddy to the subway station.”  You take the first step towards the exit when he agrees with a short chuckle and a nod. Your apartment building is one stop away while Jeongguk is about four stops away so you won’t get to talk much but the sentiment is what matters. 
Plus, all you really want is to be close to him and his family again. There was a real bond going on when you were young and now you’ve been handed a golden chance to reignite that spark. 
Fresh air fills your lungs while your ears pick up on the sounds of fading conversations, the smell of food and new school supplies greets your nose. You have yet to reach the economics building, where more people know you, so people here aren’t staring just yet. They’re preoccupied with their own lives and you want to appreciate it for a little longer. 
“By the way, thanks for Saturday. I’m sure dealing with five drunk weirdos must’ve been annoying,” you add. 
You barely remember the words coming out of your mouth. It was a slew of garbled song lyrics, high thoughts and giggles and that’s the best you can do. There’s no way Jeongguk was walking out of the night sane.  
He huffs out a laugh and then shakes his hair out of his eyes in a very attractive manner. “It was… well, it was something, I’ll tell you that much. But you don’t have to apologize. I don’t mind.” Then Jeongguk looks at you with his chin tilted down, lids low, almost glazed over like he’s checking you out but his gaze just dances over the features of your face. 
You get incredibly shy with him staring at you like that. 
Let’s hope you aren’t turning tomato red right now. 
“Jimin and Tae go out a lot so I’m used to making sure they don’t, like, die.” 
Jeongguk is like Jeongyeon in that sense. Always taking care of people and making sure they are safe in bed before worrying about themselves. Sometimes, she forgets that she’s allowed to have fun and let loose too and you don’t want Jeongguk to fall into the same mindset. Being the caretaker all the time can be draining. 
“I mean, it’s your birthday and the rest of us were getting fucked up. Usually, it’s the other way around.” 
Your 20th was nothing short of a hot mess. Nayeon snuck in bottles she got her older brother to buy and you tried to take a shot from every single type he brought. Whiskey, vodka, soju, sake, and beer. Safe to say, that was a rookie mistake that ended up hunched over a toilet bowl  for almost an hour. Nayeon held your hair while Jeongyeon ordered just enough carbs and hangover soup to make it all better. 
But it was a memory you hold dear to you because it was one of the last moments you felt like it was okay for you to be a stupid teenager and make a mistake.
Jeongguk didn’t get that moment and you want him to because that sloppy behavior won’t be cute when he’s in his late 20s or early 30s. 
“I didn’t want to,” he shrugs simply. “Drinking is sorta fun but I don’t love it and I never let myself get super drunk.” You want to ask why but Jeongguk continues speaking. “But we had cake and barbecue before coming to the club and my parents sent a care package, so it was a good birthday. Taking care of you guys didn’t ruin everything.” 
You relent a little. Perceptions of fun are different after all and maybe, for Jeongguk, he got exactly what he wanted so he isn’t complaining. The residual guilt fades slowly inside of you.
“As long as you enjoyed your birthday,” you sigh, a wave of something sentimental coming over you causes your heels to raise up so you can be tall enough to ruffle his fluffy perfect hair. The same boy who only dressed in Pokémon shirts is now legal, old enough to do whatever he wants, and you’re starting to feel a little soft about it. “Can’t believe you’re twenty!” You squeal. “You’re all grown up!” 
Jeongguk cringes, turning away from your constant pinches and prods and whining as a few eyes drift towards the two of you. His ears get the tiniest bit red but he doesn’t scold you so you continue teasing him. 
“Remember when you used to hand draw all of my birthday cards with little cartoons and you and Eunchae would come with my mom and I to look at all of the cakes at the store?”
The filmstrip of memories is painfully nostalgic. That one nice cake store a few streets away from your apartment building that made the best cakes. If you close your eyes, you can smell the sugary air as you walk in, a tinkling bell on the door to let the owners know someone was there, and the various cakes put in the display case. You always got the fudgiest chocolate cake with bright red strawberries on top. Your mom could only afford the small size but that was fine. You just wanted a cake. 
Jeongguk would come with you and press his face to the glass in complete awe. Sometimes, the three of you would pretend like you were rich people who got to buy big cakes whenever they pleased and you’d pick the biggest sizes of your favorite flavors. 
You always got chocolate, Jeongguk got some sort of fruit while Eunchae would get red velvet and you would dream of the day when you had enough money to indulge yourself on a whim. . 
Then, when Jeongguk’s mom opened up her bakery, she began making your birthday cakes so the three of you sort of got your wish but those were free. Made with love and compassion until you moved too far to feel it. 
“You still remember all of that?” He asks. The stone pathway turns. A signal that the economics building is getting closer by the second. 
Trying not to think about it, you answer him. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?” You’ve always had impeccable memory but you treasured every second of your childhood. 
Because your later teens, in Seoul and away from all that you knew, were terrible. 
“I barely remembered what I ate yesterday,” Jeongguk laughs, staring over at you. “That’s pretty impressive.” 
“You think so?” You turn to look at him when you feel his eyes linger for longer than usual. His stare isn’t piercing but it leaves a viable imprint on your skin like a thick layer of lotion. “What?” You get self-conscious. Is there something in your hair? Did a bird shit on you without you noticing? 
“I like your hair,” Jeongguk says after a moment, pointing to the clear clip holding all of your hair up. 
A few of the shorter strands come out from the tight hold with time, framing your face, while the rest remain bunched up with a large claw clip. It’s such an effortless look. This morning you were too lazy to fully style your hair with a hair dryer and a brush after spending too much time on it for your sham date with Wooshik. It’s starting to get a little greasy so you plan to wash it tomorrow but this is your go-to dirty hair look. 
“Oh, thanks.” A goofy grin nearly breaks out onto your face but you stop it halfway. “I like your earrings.” You want to return Jeongguk’s compliment with one of your own. Your pointer finger runs through the three thick hoops like a wind chime, causing Jeongguk’s shoulder to rise up thanks to the ticklish sensation, getting shy. “How on earth did your mom allow all of these piercings?” 
Mrs. Jeon lost her shit when a 14-year-old you greeted her with a second hole in your ears when she was coming home from the grocery store.  An upperclassman offered to pierce everyone’s ears using the nurses supplies in exchange for cigarettes or candy from a nearby convenience store. Since she was your guardian for the day while your mom was out for a certification exam, she felt irresponsible but you assured her that your mom was okay with it. 
Well, she had no idea at the time but you knew she’d get over it at some point. It was a second ear piercing, not like you got a tattoo on your forehead. 
“These were all presents, actually.” Your fingers brush the back of his palm as you get closer to the economics building at the end of the road, a little before the sidewalk down the main road begins, as your dread multiplies. “I learned that from you. Convinced mom and dad that my good grades warranted some award and they had no choice but to say yes.”
A dangerously familiar feeling mixed with pride courses through your veins like the newest drug. Jeongguk says he doesn’t remember much but he manages to reach in and pull out a sickly sweet memory from your childhood that has your insides turning into mush. You almost want to wrap your arms around your stomach to get it to stop flipping so much. 
You didn’t ask for much as a kid. Growing up you knew that money was tight so expensive things like the best console or brand name clothes were simply out of the question. But you liked to barter with your mom for more simple things. A good grade for ice cream or a day at the beach or a trip to the bookstore to buy a manga edition you’ve been waiting to read. 
It wasn’t all the time but when you felt like you wanted to celebrate yourself. You earned it after all. 
Then you got a little older and you wanted to become like the cool older girls you went to school with. So you dropped ice cream for piercings, nail polish, and CDs from all of the new idol groups that were popular at the time. Your mom was frugal of course, most of your stuff was cheap from the local dollar store or second hand markets, but she loved to treat you. She wished she could spoil you one day, buy you everything you could lay your eyes on, however the universe didn’t allow her to do that. 
She still can’t but that’s okay. You’re glad you didn’t grow up a spoiled brat. That you learned humility and patience and empathy because it’s those traits that set you apart from most of your classmates. 
“I taught you well.” Fingers itching to flick his chin, you hold back. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable with all of the touching. 
Jeongguk hums. “Got these and these,” he turns his head to the other side to show you almost five studs in his ear, “after my class rank and CSAT score came out.”  
“Didn’t that hurt?” 
You do your best to keep your eyes either on the ground or on Jeongguk as the almighty building comes into view. Despite the heavy beating in your chest, your inner turmoil shouldn’t be obvious. 
Jeongguk doesn’t need to know about your problems. Those are yours and yours alone. 
“Yeah but it wasn’t unbearable. I swear, Eunchae almost passed out when she got her doubles. She hates needles.” 
You laugh. “I remember. Your sister was freaking out when we were all getting our vaccines because she literally slithered down onto the floor the moment she saw the thing.” 
Jeongguk hums. There’s a small break in the conversation as the two of you pass by a huge yet short wave crowd of people who are either rushing to the cafeteria or to their next class but even through all of that, you can feel eyes all over the two of your backs. Especially yours. 
Your department members linger by the vending machines and smoking areas in little judgmental pods,  whispering about you amongst themselves. 
You can predict what they’re saying. 
There she goes again, latching onto another guy after Wooshik dumped her poor pathetic ass. 
Will she ever learn? 
Poor thing. He probably doesn’t know that he’s dealing with the campus whore. 
That word. That one word, repeats in your mind. Whore, whore, whore. That’s all you’ll ever be to them. 
Fear sets in. What will they say about Jeongguk? Will he get teased? Will he find out about your reputation and want nothing to do with you afterwards? No, the last thing you want is for him to get tangled in all of this. He shouldn’t have to deal with all of this. Know about all of the things people whisper about you when they think you aren’t listening.
At some point, he’ll find out. No matter how hard you try to hide it, push it down, pretend everything is okay, Jeongguk will come to know what everyone thinks of you and all of the nasty vitriol they throw your way. 
And when he does, you’re going to have to learn to let go of whatever you two have right now and whatever builds in your heart until all you have left to cling to Jeongguk are the sweet memories of your life in Busan. 
Because that’s how it goes for you. 
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Jeongguk stumbles into his apartment and throws his backpack onto his gaming chair, quickly calculating the amount of free time he has right now. 
 He has a group match in about two hours for League of Legends and he plans on canceling on them since he had to wake up early today. Jeongguk’s sleep schedule was fucked up all summer and suddenly, waking up at 6am instead of going to bed around then was quite literally torture. 
There’s no guilt when Jeongguk texts them. He doesn’t owe his teammates anything, not like he’s joined a real league anyways. He has other priorities. 
Now that he’s a student again, his sleep schedule sort of matters. His mother would cry learning about the absolute buffoonery he was committing over summer session with his new league he met online. Playing various games until the sun was peeking through his blinds and then ordering breakfast from McDonald’s while entering another battle. Usually that would entice him but all he feels is exhaustion. 
Most of it is from lugging his heavy ass backpack around all day in the sun. Some of it is still from this weekend. There’s a reason Jeongguk isn’t an avid partier. 
Quickly, he throws whatever pre-packaged dish he bought into the microwave and changes out of his school clothes into some sweatpants and a different shirt. All part of his usual after school routine. Then he carefully takes the steaming plate out once it’s done and sets it on the counter to cool before going to the bathroom to wash his hands. 
As he walks through his hall, something presses into the soles of his feet. It’s soft but flexible and round with a hard plastic bit strung onto it that digs into his skin.
“Ouch!” He stops midway, moving his foot and staring at the mystery item. Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow at first. 
It looks like one of Taehyung’s many charm bracelets that he buys from those street vendors in Hongdae with the cute little charms around colored string. Jeongguk has one from him ( a black string with a baby pink bunny charm that he wears every now and then). The idiot probably dropped it while singing karaoke or doing his Scarface impersonation to make Jimin laugh. Jeongguk takes his phone out to text the guy but he realizes that Taehyung hasn’t been to his apartment in a few days. 
The only other person that has been here was… you. 
He bends down to look at the bracelet. Were you wearing one that night? Your bracelets didn't look like this. They were metal, not string. Jeongguk bends at the knees and picks it up. The string is elastic and stretchy but loose enough to fit around his wrist if needed. 
Oh, it’s a hair tie. 
You must’ve dropped it when you slept over. Jeongguk turns the thing around to see the charm. The elastic itself is plain black but the charm seems to be some Sanrio character that he recognizes but cannot remember the name of.
Hello Kitty? No, he knows her and she doesn’t look like this. 
Cinnamoroll? No, that’s a puppy. This is some weird purple looking thing. 
My Melody? Maybe. 
Fuck, he doesn’t have time to worry about this. Jeongguk shoves the damn thing in his pocket, makes a mental reminder to text you about it after eating lunch, and goes to quickly wash his hands. His fingers push the door open to his bathroom. Clean white tiles, the scent diffuser smelling of white musk, and his TMNT towel drying on the rack. 
Jeongguk looks up at himself in the mirror. His eyes are sunken in and a little swollen from the lack of sleep. His stomach rumbles as he lathers his hands in his fresh cotton hand soap. 
But all he can think about is you on that night. 
Saturday Night. 
The night felt never-ending. 
Jeongguk was doing his best to get everyone in a car ride home safely after song after song on the dance floor but he was getting a little overwhelmed with all that was thrown onto him in the span of a few short minutes when Nayeon decided she wanted to go home.
Laughing, tripping, complaining about vomiting, a smell coming from some random spot that’s making someone nauseous, Jeongguk felt like a parent trying to get their kids together. His phone was glued to his hands to call cabs and type in addresses while making sure the five of you didn’t wander off into the unknown without his supervision. 
Thankfully, one of your friends managed to usher the other into a cab and Jimin was able to shove a whiny Taehyung into the one Jeongguk had ordered so now all he had left was you. 
Drunk you was something else. Stuck onto him like a second layer, arms twined tightly around his waist, mumbling about something random while stumbling over every step. Jeongguk had half a mind to just pick you up and walk to where the guy had parked but he didn’t want to make your nausea even worse by swinging you around.  
“Wait! Jeongguk, I can’t find my phone, we have to go back,” you whined, tugging on his arm with one hand. “I-I can’t–hiccup–I can’t live without my-my phone!”
You were clutching your phone in your other hand. 
He sighed. “You’re holding it,” motioning to the device pressed into your fingers. “Come on, the cab is parked there.” The yellow thing looked like something descending from the heavens while the driver finished the last of his cigarette and belched loud enough for Jeongguk to hear. 
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Are you really sure?”
“Yes.” 
“Okay, I trust you.” You mumbles, hugging him close like he was a large pillow. 
The next few minutes passed by a bit quicker as you let Jeongguk help you into the car and started on your way back to his apartment since you and your friends were incapable of remembering your address. 
He leaned against the tough upholstery as the car began moving. Muscles tight and tired. Jeongguk felt the rivulets of sweat dripping down on his neck which he quickly wiped off and onto his pants, something he usually doesn't do but he’s at the state of not really giving a fuck about clothes he’s going to wash anyways. His body bobbles with a shaky turn and somehow, your limp body ends up pressed into his side, head leaning on his chest while a muffled groan leaves your painted lips.
“Ah s-sorry,” you slurred, attempting to sit up by placing a hand on Jeongguk’s mid-thigh. “I forgot to put on my belt.”  Your perfume flowed to him, a soft clean scent, maybe a bit sucrose when mixed with the scent of your shampoo. 
“Oh, the belt is finicky on that side, ma’am.” The driver informs. He meets both of your eyes in the rearview mirror. “It’s okay. Lean on your boyfriend for the rest of the drive. Should only take a few more minutes!” 
Jeongguk opens his mouth to correct but you interrupt him with a giggle. His head switches to you, mouth covered, skin dimpling. “Boyfriend.” You repeat. 
The driver plays along, most likely very confused, just like Jeongguk. “You two make a lovely couple.”
That next statement makes you giggle a little more. Jeongguk wants to know what is so funny about this cab driver assuming the two of you are dating. Do you find the hypothetical to be so insanely outrageous that it’s hilarious?  Should he even bother asking or should he let it go to save himself the pain from hearing your brazenly honest answer?
Jeongguk chooses to ignore it. He knows another turn is coming up so he raises his left arm and nudges you closer to rest on him comfortably. That same arm circles around your shoulders and the top of your head tickles the bottom of Jeongguk’s nose. You’re warm and comforting after a long night, bringing up a slew of feelings he’s been pushing down for years at this point. 
Still mumbling to yourself, you become distracted with the jewelry on Jeongguk’s hand so you don’t hear the questions that the cab driver throws your way. 
“How long have you two been dating?” He asks, turning down the late night radio station playing old hits. 
Jeongguk just goes along with it. “It’s-uh-very recent, sir.” A four hour relationship to be exact. “But I’ve known her since we were kids.” 
“How cute! My wife and I only dated for a few months before I proposed, you know,” he proclaims proudly, shoulders broadening. Jeongguk nods and fakes a grin in hopes that the conversation ends here. 
Jeongguk wants to laugh. Marriage? 
He’s never even been in a relationship before. He’s barely gone past kissing someone for longer than two minutes. With the way things are going, Jeongguk will probably live his life exactly like Steve Carell in the movie The 40-year-old Virgin only there’s no way he’ll get a happy ending. 
The cab driver laughs to himself when he sees the look on Jeongguk's face before turning the music back up. You’ve successfully knocked out on Jeongguk’s chest so you miss the faint redness creeping up his neck and to his ears but it’s not something he wants you to see either. His brain zeros in on his own pathetic state of affairs. 
He’s always prided himself on his emotional maturity for someone so young but romantically? Horrendous. 
Jeongguk has always stood behind the belief that he simply isn’t meant to be in a relationship with anyone. Sometimes he can be too shy, too closed off, and people don’t gravitate towards people like that. They want someone who can be openly affectionate after a few conversations and Jeongguk simply isn’t the type. The only reason why he has friends like Taehyung and Jimin is because they made an effort to get to know him at his pace. It’s the same with you, who was older and a girl but you still made the effort to invite Jeongguk to watch Barbie movies or search for coins to get the cheapest candy at the convenience store. People usually don’t care after he brushes them off a few times but you did, Taehyung and Jimin did, and Jeongguk gets all fuzzy inside. 
Would he ever find someone like you three again? Would he ever be so lucky? Probably not. 
He looks over at your face smushed against his chest, playing with the zipper of his jacket. You’re so pretty, always have been, always will be, like a rare flower. Even after all of this time, he’s so taken aback by how effortlessly beautiful you are; on the outside and the inside. The way your hair falls delicately over your face, cheeks puffed, lips puckered; the way your shirt gives you an angelic look and your necklace lies perfectly in the middle of your collarbones. 
It’s enticing. Jeongguk can’t take his eyes off of you. He never could. 
Fuck, this random reunion might do more harm than good if Jeongguk doesn’t learn to control himself. This isn’t the time to reawaken old feelings that he pushed down for a good reason. 
Once the cab stops in front of his apartment building, Jeongguk pays him and then helps you out of the car. Body limp and slippery like slinky. 
“No, I forgot how to walk,” you mumbled, leaning against one of the pillars outside the building to keep yourself up straight. “Can’t I just sleep here? It’s comfortable.”
“That’s a concrete pillar.” Jeongguk runs a hand through his slightly dampened hair. “Come on, there’s an elevator and I don’t live too high up. You’ll sleep better on my bed.” 
A pout grows stronger on your face, a few streaks of something black collecting in the corner of your eyes and your lipstick is smeared a little but Jeongguk still finds you so put together and exquisite. Still like that rare flower on top of a mountain peak; beautiful yet impossible to reach. 
“Fine.” You peel yourself off the pillar. “But if you’re lying to me, I’m gonna pinch those cute little cheeks right off your face.” Squishing his flesh momentarily before dropping your hands, Jeongguk blinks a few times in shock. 
Focus, Jeon. She needs to rest. 
Getting you inside is easier than he thought. The promise of the elevator and a warm bed with some water turned you much more docile. But you’re still enamored by his rings which you slip on and off his fingers as the elevator beeps. Then, Jeongguk slips off your shoes and tells you to wait by the kitchen counter while he rifles through his things, handing you a shirt and directing you to the bathroom.
A loud sigh escapes his lips once he’s all alone. Jeongguk has about ten seconds to change himself. He’s been in these tight jeans that squeeze his legs like anything. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone so hard in the gym over the summer. Now most of his old clothes don’t fit him as well as they used to. 
Quickly, he throws on his pajamas just as you emerge from the bathroom and hum a random song from tonight. 
Then, he helps you into bed, groaning out at the soreness in his muscles from all of the lifting he’s been doing today.  You don’t fight back too much, clearly worn out, so you sink into the soft padding easily like a little kitten. He throws the blankets over you, does a quick check to see if you’re okay, and then gets into his own makeshift bed made out of a thin mattress and a set of sheets. 
It’s not nearly as comfortable as his own bed and his back might be mad at him tomorrow but it’ll do for now. 
Just as Jeongguk is beginning to fall into deep sleep, he hears you rusting around, mumbling under your breath about something. Your hands push yourself up on your elbows. For a second, he thinks you’re going to throw up so he gets up quickly and makes his way to his kitchen to grab a plastic bag. 
But you start speaking louder. 
“I can’t believe you, Seojoon.” Your hair sticks out from every corner as you flop back down, lips bloated and pouty, slapping around the comforter and pointing to no one. “I hate you.” Jeongguk’s eyebrow raises, pausing in the middle of his kitchen to decipher what on earth you are talking about.
Clearly, you’re having a nightmare. Jeongguk takes quiet steps back to his spot on the floor in order to avoid that one squeaky 
“You cheated on me with Somin, didn’t you? You bastard. You told me you loved me,” whining, your body twists around. “Why else would I let you fuck me?” 
Jeongguk reels his brain back to stop the curious sympathy right there. He doesn’t want to prod further into this bad dream involving a fight with an ex of some sort. It’s none of his business and clearly this wasn’t meant for him to hear. All he does care about is if you’re going to vomit or not. 
He calls your name. “Are you okay?” Jeongguk whispers. 
You don’t respond. Instead, your face twists in discomfort as you continue to mumble into his mattress and writhe around. 
Jeongguk grows increasingly worried. He doesn’t want you to choke or anything of the sort while he’s deep in REM. Slowly, he gets down on his knees to get a closer look at you tossing and turning.  
“It hurts so much.” 
Jeongguk gently places a hand on your arm, saying your name softly so you don’t wake up. “Hey, you okay? Do you want water?” You twist away from his touch at first. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s Jeongguk,” reminding you as your lids barely part. He thinks you register him, that maybe you’re somewhat awake right now as you begin to curl forward. 
But then your hands clasp Jeongguk’s arms tightly, restricting his every move. 
“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” Your voice slurs, the tip of your nose meeting the fabric of his shirt, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave indents. 
Nothing but confusion clouds Jeongguk’s brain. What are you talking about? 
“You told me you loved me. What? Don’t you want me anymore?”  
Tightening around him, you bury your face into his neck again. Your arms begin to raise, wrap around his shoulders to bring your body closer to his rigid frame. Jeongguk feels wetness from your eyes begin to drip onto his skin, dampening his shirt.
“Just do it then. Just leave me. No one ever sticks around anyways. Guys always leave me the moment something new comes along. Every single one,” you enunciate, vibrating into him, crying softly. “You don’t even care about how much you hurt me. No one cares.” 
Jeongguk is paralyzed under your hold as your tears start to roll down. Your sobs are loud and erratic and painful, as if all of this hurt has building until you eventually couldn’t hold onto it anymore. That it took alcohol and a long night to wedge it out of you. 
It’s contradictory; holding him tight and telling him to leave you.
But he doesn’t push you away and he doesn't let go. Jeongguk lets you grip onto him for safety because he’s terrified that removing his touch could break you even further. 
 He doesn’t know what is happening in your dream to make you behave like this, he doesn’t know what made the previous glee that used to make your eyes bright fade away after all of those years passed. He wants to ask but he doesn't know how. 
All Jeongguk does know is that you were different. Not in a good or bad way but you were simply different.  The happy go lucky little girl grew into a hardened adult. When he looked into your eyes tonight, he saw traces of all of this hurt woven alongside other emotions. Like a heavy blanket that only pushes you further and further deeper into a more melancholic way of being. 
And as he helps you back into bed once your tears stop falling, rubs some cooling Vicks rub on your forehead and pulls the cover close, his brain turns into an echo chamber until he tires himself to sleep. 
No one ever sticks around anyways. 
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧
A week has passed and while you thought you could gain control of your physics plight, it seems like the universe has some different plans. 
The tutor that you selected, a second year girl who is majoring in electrical engineering, has been a total flake. You exchanged numbers with her on Thursday during Week 1 and she fed you all of these sweet words about wanting to become friends and teaching in a friendly, kind way which immediately softened you. The last thing you wanted was for some dickhead to call you stupid because you didn’t understand the concept the first time. 
She said she’d meet you at the library that Saturday at 3pm to come up with a schedule and she never showed. So you rescheduled to Sunday, then Monday, then Tuesday and now you just feel like an idiot. 
There’s always some excuse. Either she slept in or she’s not feeling well or her roommate needs her but you’re losing your damn mind right now. 
“You’re not paying her, right?” Jeongyeon asks, rummaging through Nayeon’s bag for something. “Maybe she’s a scammer?” 
You give her a dull look. “She doesn’t get paid by me. I think the university does or she’s earning credits, I don’t know. But I’m fucked for the big quiz we have next week.” 
It’s only Week 2 but the material is daunting and frankly put, you’ll shit your pants the day of the actual quiz and whatever date the final is. This is all so unfamiliar to you and, unlike other subjects, you struggle to find that area where the content becomes interesting. All you feel is terror. 
Nayeon, ever the optimist, tries to lift your spirit. 
“Girl, that shit is next week. Do yourself a favor, find a new tutor, study a whole bunch and then ace the quiz. There’s no point in waiting for this random girl to start caring. It’s your grade after all.” 
“Yeah but I just don’t want someone that’s going to be an asshole when I get things wrong.” 
People love to dumb you down, especially those in your own department. Obviously your promiscuity directly correlates to your intelligence. Girls can only be slutty or smart, right? There exists no gray area. But you know yourself. Even if science and math aren’t your thing, you’re a smart person. You got into a top performing university without any fancy prep classes or coaches and you are consistently pulling good grades each semester. That speaks more about you and your capabilities than anything else. 
“I’ve heard this one guy is pretty good. He’s a teacher’s assistant pursuing his masters degree here.” Nayeon takes her phone out to look him up. “My friend was in his Chemistry group sessions and he was apparently super helpful and kind. I think he does physics too. Let me ask her.” 
You perk up. It would be perfect if you could land a tutoring session with this TA instead of your missing student tutor. Even if it’s a group setting
“Let me know what your friend says.” You look away from the two in front of you for a split second as your attention was cut by your phone vibrating on the table. Flipping it over you see a text from your flakey tutor herself. 
Reading it over, you roll your eyes heavily. Another lame excuse about her skipping out on your tutoring session because she scheduled a meeting with her professor at the exact same time by accident. You ignore it and plan to respond with a passive aggressive rejection to end all of this bullshit. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jeongyeon and Nayeon try to discreetly take their edibles before digging into the food you all ordered. 
Steaming plates of rice, kimchi, stir-fry and meats along with a few fried foods makes your stomach grumble. You flip your phone back over and grab your chopsticks, changing the subject quickly. 
“What are you guys doing after this?” You ask. The edibles are going to last a while and considering a weed high has different stages, there’s no way these two are going to be eating the entire time. Munchies aren’t that strong. 
Jeongyeon wiggles her eyebrows suggestively to her girlfriend, cheeks full like a chipmunk, and Nayeon turns beet red. Enough context for you to figure it out, breaking into a fit of giggles. 
“Ohhh, I see.” 
Good for them. If only you were getting laid too. Lately, your vibrator has been your best friend late at night when your mind wanders. 
With thirteen settings, it’s safe to say you won’t be getting bored for a while. 
However, you’ve never done it while being high. You’d want to do it with someone you’re comfortable with, maybe a consistent trustworthy hookup and only if consent is 100% enthusiastic, but you can only imagine how heightened the senses feel. 
Getting lost in thought, you cross one of your legs over the other, thinking about the haziness parting as you ride them slow but deep. Your hands will grip their shoulders, nails digging into the tight flesh as the drag of their length is delicious inside of you. Moaning out loud at how full you feel, watching the sharp bone of his jaw unhinge with pleasure, thick silver earrings brushing your skin, dark hair between your fingers as you increase the pace and drive the two of  you to the tipping point. 
It sounds… so satisfying. 
Fuck, okay, you need to get some control over yourself. It must be the week before your period or something because your mind has been cooking up these scenarios that demand attention. 
And most of the time it involves some familiar looking yet faceless character giving you the best dick you’ve ever gotten. It’s really messing with you. 
How the fuck are you going to be Miss Celibacy if your ass can’t go a week without sex? 
You stab your chopsticks into a large chunk of tofu and stare at the red sauce over the surface before shoving it into your mouth in hopes of distracting you when an angry recognizable voice flutters past your table. 
“..and this bitch has the nerve to look me dead in the eye and go, ‘well, you just lost yourself a customer,’ as if any of us give a shit. Like ma’am I get paid minimum wage to make watery coffee and reheat cardboard sandwiches regardless of your purchase, please leave me alone and die.” 
Turning your head, you see tufts of blonde and shiny boots combined with the soft smell of peaches: Jimin. 
And right next to him is none other than Jeon Jeongguk who is chuckling at Jimin’s whiny Karen tone to describe his awful customer. His cheeks creasing, eyes getting shinier and cute. 
You can feel your body thrum with excitement. 
“Hey guys!” Nayeon waves, setting down her utensils. They turn to look at her, then Jeongyeon and then at you, bowing while greeting. Your shoulders cave in when you feel Jeongguk’s stare on your face. “Do you wanna eat lunch with us?”
“Hell yeah. Is the menu today good?” Jimin asks.  
Jeongyeon, with a mouth full of food, nods excitedly which is perfect. Jeongguk and Jimin laugh, motioning to the lunch line quickly so you save the table and go back to eating your lunches. Your brain demands another curious glance at Jeongguk’s retreating figure. 
What? He looks really fucking sexy from the back. 
Ever since the first day of school,  you agreed to ride the subway back with Jeongguk on the days you end class at the same time and you've come to the conclusion that he is quite literally the hottest guy on the entire planet. Hotter than any other guy you’ve wasted your time with. 
He has the most boyish features but his body is perfectly crafted. Wide shoulders, defined thighs and arms, a super sculpted back, but not overly burly where he looks fake. Like an exquisite marble statue from the Hellenistic period. 
Yes, yes, you know it’s sort of weird considering the fact that you’ve  watched grow up from a cute kid to an emo pre-teen and now jumping to the absolute meal he is now but it’s just some simple attraction. 
One that rears its ugly head whenever Jeongguk laughs or smiles or pushes his hair out of his face or tongues his cheek or does literally anything. 
There are a million reasons why this could’ve happened. From all the time spent together from the subway rides to morning coffee and dinner one night (with all of your friends but it still counts) or you’re thinking this silly little attraction might be a combination of a lack of dick, PMS and pure loneliness. Either way, it isn’t anything major. 
Finding a way to ignore it is the next step.
Nayeon nudges you. “Remind me again, how exactly are you two childhood friends?” Her cheeks puffed with food.  
“Oh, I lived in Busan until high school and he was my neighbor. I would always hang out with him and his two sisters.” You explain, taking another bite of soft sticky rice. 
“Older sisters?”
You shake your head. “One older and one younger.” Wondering why this is relevant. 
But then, Nayeon and Jeongyeon make eye contact, eyebrows raising like they do when they know something you don’t. Meanwhile, you’re just sitting there like an idiot, waiting for context with your chopsticks held halfway up to your mouth. 
“Green flag. Bright green fucking flag.” Jeongyeon whistles. 
“Huh?”  Your chopsticks barely prod your lip without your mouth opening. Did the edibles pull out some secret stoner knowledge that you aren’t aware of? 
Jeongyeon decides to explain it to you. “According to the girlies on tiktok, men with older sisters are usually green flags. Something about learning gentleness and patience and respecting women from an early age or whatever. I don’t get you heteros so it went past my head.” 
You’re puzzled at first. These men all have mothers, they came from a woman who nursed them and cared for them until now, why is having an older sister so different?
But then it hits you. 
The way Jeongguk treats you is so different from the way most guys treat you. There’s no domineering masculinity coming from him in heavy waves trying to overpower you. It’s softer. He’s so approachable and gentle. He never touches you unless you’re okay with it, he’s always polite and kind and sweet. He never makes you feel stupid or inadequate, doesn’t talk over you, nothing of the sort. 
And while it’s the barest of minimum, Jeongguk makes you feel safe. 
Even Jeongyeon and Nayeon, who are often not comfortable around straight men, found him to be a delight. That has to mean something. 
“I…I never thought about it,” your voice goes a little husky. Tucking a stray piece of hair out of your face as your cheeks get a little warm. “He’s just a good guy, you know.  Jihyo, his sister, always kept him in check. I guess, it’s a good thing.” 
Kids lead by example. Growing up in an environment where the adults around you were treating women poorly or pushing people around will appear in relationships. But Jeongguk was the opposite. 
“It is. Think about it,” Nayeon leans in, “after all of those duds you’ve been with, he’s just what you’re looking for.” 
The way your heartbeat accelerates is not a good sign. 
Your chin pulls back, like you’re leaning away from the possibility. “What? I’m not gonna date him, Nayeon,” you groan under your breath. 
“Why not?” She whines, slamming her fists onto the table, then laughing slightly at the indents left on his skin. 
“Because he has no interest in dating right now,” you grumble, remembering his words from his birthday. 
Even if you did try to pursue it, there’s a high chance Jeongguk might only see you as his older sister’s friend. Which is how it should be! It’s best that you let this silly little crush die like a lonely star and maintain your promise of making this year all about you. Your bullet vibrator is going to have to help you whenever you get the urge but besides that, no sex, no dates, no boys, nothing of the sort. 
“Did he tell you that?” Jeongyeon asks, eyes glazing over. The weed must be hitting pretty hard. You’re surprised they can keep up with this conversation. 
Then again, they’re probably used to it. 
You nod. “At the club.” Snorting, your eyes briefly flick to the other side of the cafeteria where a certain someone sits. “Juri offered him her number and he said he wasn’t going to go out with her.”
That seems to wake the brunette up. “Fuck, really? I wish I saw that,” she pouts, leaning on the blonde curled up next to her. Cute. 
“Well, he didn’t say no since you two started fucking hazing him the moment you saw him,” you scold. “But he told me he was going to reject her if/when he saw her in person.” 
“Hey! You were the one who directed us to shoo away any man that came up to you that night.” Nayeon defends. “We were just listening to instructions when we came over to stop you two.” 
Jeongyeon joins in. “Yeah, and he looked like your usual type so we assumed we should pull you away. How were we supposed to know the super hot guy you were talking to was a friend?” 
You open your mouth to quip back when you feel a presence behind you, casting a shadow on your back. The lingering smell of cologne and food dance in the air. A wave of despair crashes inside of your stomach and you really wish a black hole would open up right under to sweep you away from this hellscape. 
“What are you guys talking about?” 
Taehyung Jimin split to sit on the bench between Nayeon and Jeongyeon’s bench and yours. It's a square shaped table with four benches on each side, so enough space for two people per bench. The two couples share a bench while you and Jeongguk get your own, although he still sits closer to you on his own bench. 
“U-uh–” Jeongyeon stutters, looking at you with wide eyes for help. 
“Oh, just some guy,” you fake a laugh, flicking some hair out of your face and turning to food so you can shovel it in your face like a starved person. 
Taehyung laughs a little. “Just some guy? Jeongyeon was saying that he’s super hot and your type.” He’s being cheeky, like he always is, but this time, you can’t engage in a back and forth with him. 
Because the hot sweet guy you were talking about is sitting right next to you. 
Your brain urges you to take a peek. Jeongguk is dressed like he usually is; a pair of baggy cargo pants and a light gray sweatshirt, and he always looks attractive. The fall wind is allowing you to smell the scent of his flowery shampoo in combination with his usual perfume and it’s such an addictive scent that you never want to forget. 
But you can’t think about that. You should be thinking of a lie. 
“I’ve always wondered if you had a boyfriend,” Jimin asks, resting his chin on his palm. A sly smirk forms on his lips, just as cheeky as his own boyfriend’s. “I asked Jeongguk and he said he didn’t know.” 
Fuck. You look at him now, hair swishing with your movements. The boy is eating without a care and shrugs in response. “You never mentioned one.” 
Yeah, because there isn’t one. You’ve never had a boyfriend in your life. 
Sweat beads your palms. There has to be some guy that you can just drop in here for the sake of the conversation. Some random guy out in this cafeteria that is insignificant enough to never cross paths with you again so you can nip this conversation right in the bud. 
You scan the place. There are a few guys you’ve already hooked up with so that’s a no. Some groups of first-years and that’s also a no (you’re not trying to catch a case here). 
For fucks’ sake, are the only hot guys at this school Jimin, Taehyung and Jeongguk? 
“Uh–”
Nayeon swoops in like a guardian angel. “We were talking about the Physics and Chem tutor. I don’t know if you guys have had him but, Kim Namjoon?” 
Right, the tutor Nayeon’s friend went to. The really nice one. 
She sends you a hidden wink from her end of the table and you respond with a quick finger heart. Bless her soul. 
“Joon? Oh, he is so hot.” Jimin, to your surprise, bounces at the chance to thirst over this supposed sexy tutor that you’ve never seen before. His eyes roll back at the sheer thought of him, leaning closer to gossip.  “He was our tutors for Physics 2 last semester and wow.” He shakes his head, marveled at such a man. “He could top me and then never speak to me again and I’d be okay with that.”
Now you’re curious about this Kim Namjoon. Just how hot is he? 
Taehyung jumps in. “I agree, however, “he holds a single finger up, “I would also like to add Kim Seokjin, the bio tutor.” His eyes roll back dramatically. “Dream threesome. Foursome if you want babe,” he nudges the blonde who blushes in agreement.  
Then the entire table breaks out into giggles and with a little coaxing, Nayeon and Jeongyeon reveal their ideal threesomes which you already know the answers to (Han Sohee and Irene from Red Velvet) since they share the same girl crushes. Then you answer begrudgingly which are the two male leads from Business Proposal because, obviously. However, the person next to you is rather quiet. You lightly nudge his side with your elbow to check in with him. 
“You okay?” You’re asking just in case Jeongguk isn’t comfortable with sex talk. 
But he nods. “Sorry, I’m still listening. Just really hungry. All I had for breakfast was a protein shake.” Jeongguk inhales the glazed stir-fry chicken on his plate, a dot of sauce landing on the corner of his lip and, oh my, do you want to wipe it off for him because he is so cute with his bready baby cheeks all puffed with food.
“Come on,” you pretend to scold. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Jeongguk’s mom would weep if she heard about him skipping. 
He waves it off but you can see his ears get a little red. “Yeah, yeah, I know but I slept through my alarms so I was in a rush this morning. Almost pulled a Taehyung and crashed into the wall while trying to run out.” 
You laugh at the image. Taehyung can be a bit of a klutz. At the club on Jeongguk’s birthday, he almost crashed into an entire table because he was dizzy from doing tiktok dances all night. Your head throws back slightly, eyes fluttering shut, and when you open them again, Jeongguk’s eyes are on you. 
They feel explorative, searching every inch of your face like he doesn’t want to forget a single inch, lips quirked up in a half smile but it’s Jeongguk’s eyes that really take you aback. His eyes have never looked at you like that before. 
As if something is swimming deep in those pools of glimmery chocolate brown; something warm and sweet in there. 
“Sorry,” he blushes, turning his eyes away from your face and back onto his food. Your heart stops for a moment, looking down at his pillowy soft lips. They’re right there, moisturized and pink. All you really have to do is lean in. 
And with the way Jeongguk looks at you, you really fucking want to. 
He’s so beautiful. So pretty and sweet and kind and unlike any other guy you’ve ever wanted. The urge to go for him is almost primal that you can barely hold yourself back. 
Your friends are like little angels in your head, goading you on to just do it. Just kiss him and take him and then drop it. Satiate that part of you that needs sex, that needs to fucked just right, and then move on. It would be different than usual because Jeongguk is different from the previous men so you wouldn’t get hurt. 
Although… 
He’s Jihyo’s little brother, the boy who needed to hold your hand when crossing the street, the kid always on his skateboard or his nose buried in a manga. Would it tarnish everything that you find familiar to just go for it? Would years of a perfectly healthy happy friendship go right down the drain? 
But Jeongguk is an adult, only one year younger than you. There isn’t anything wrong. 
Ideally, you could just lean in and–
“Jeongguk, what was the name of the blue penguin in the Backyardigans? I really need to know like now,” Taehyung urges, breaking your train of thought immediately. 
You fly back as if the contact singes you, curling into yourself and placing a single hand on the surface of the table to catch your breath. You completely forgot about the whole conversation going on around you when you stared into Jeongguk’s pretty deep eyes. 
It’s clear as day to you. With the man he’s become, it’s obvious that you are definitely into Jeon Jeongguk. 
“Huh?” He rasps, slightly out of it too. “Oh-uh, Pablo. He’s the one that sings International Super Spy.” 
“Pablo! I knew it.” Taehyung snaps his fingers loudly. “How do you still remember that?”
Jeongguk awkwardly forces out a laugh. “We watched a few episodes together this summer, remember?” 
“Right. Pretty sure I was blazed out of my mind, though.” 
Jimin nudges him. “Babe, when are you not blazed out of your mind?”
“When I’m with you, baby boy,” he coos.  
The boy next to you groans out loud. “Ugh, you two are so nasty.” His voice is muffled by food but he still gets his point across. You bite back a giggle at the disgust on his face. 
“Jeongguk, you can’t be mean to us. It’s homophobic.” Jimin points a chopstick in his direction but Jeongguk simply shrugs and continues eating without a care. 
Jeongyeon pipes up. “I agree. That applies to you too, Queen of the Straights.” 
The direct hit has pulled you out of your internal panic, reminding you to contribute to the conversation like friends usually do. Your eyes dull a little. “Yes ma’am.”  Faking a soldier’s salute to make everyone laugh. 
You’re glad that everyone else seems oblivious to what just happened because you know that had the two of you been alone, the situation would be entirely different. 
And you don’t know if that outcome would be any better than this one. 
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧
On Friday, classes get canceled. 
Thankfully, it’s nothing bad. All of the buildings are getting fumigated to keep out any infestations that might’ve crawled in over the summer since someone thought they saw a cockroach in the Arts building so all the professors decide to post the lecture information online or have virtual class if necessary. 
You had no complaints with this change. Attend class in your pajamas, in your bed, and have the option to fall asleep without getting caught? Sounds perfect. 
Although, no in person class means you don’t get to speak to your Physics professor to complain about your flakey tutor and find a new one which you were banking on completing before you had your huge quiz next week. So, once your final lecture ends, you begin to worry about how the hell you’re going to resolve that problem. 
Sure, you could easily self-review with the resources online but you’ve always learned more theoretical concepts with someone explaining it to you in person so you could ask questions immediately. 
You shut your laptop off and place it on top of the long coffee table you use as a desk. An open notebook with notes sits on your right, pen clicked off, highlighters placed neatly in your pencil case, and the silence of your studio apartment almost starts ringing in your ears. 
Who do you know that can tutor you for physics? 
Nayeon sent you the email address for the Namjoon person whom everyone is vouching for. You asked this morning  if he had any space in his tutoring session but he responded saying that he does but he isn’t having a session today and he’s happy to answer any questions over email or through a video call individually. 
You genuinely consider that option until you look up at the decor in your room that Namjoon has no chance of missing during the video call. 
Now, you wouldn’t call yourself a strange person, if anything you are a well-adjusted member of society,  but the pieces chosen to hang up in your studio apartment would raise some eyebrows. From the poster of Bibble from Barbie saying Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss to the concerning amount of Sanrio plushies you’ve collected over the years to all of the cat beds and toys thrown around the place and the impressive array of diffusers in every corner, your apartment is an amalgamation of you. 
And you don’t know if this Namjoon guy is going to take one look at the place and peg you down as a fucking weirdo or not. You want to make a good impression on him. 
So, you wrack your brain for a different option to help you just before your quiz next week. 
Someone. Anyone. 
Your worst bet is to walk over to the nearest cram school and ask someone there but those are all high school students and you’d die of embarrassment. 
Then you remember, Jeongguk took Physics last semester. Maybe he can help. 
Quickly, you pat around your duvet for your phone. It’s lying screen down a few inches away from Snowball’s sleeping body. Carefully, you grab the device, scroll through your contacts and call him with fiery hope coursing through you thickly.
“Hello?” His voice drips from the speakers like flowing water and you want to drown in it. 
“Hey, are you done with online classes?” You ask, on your back and knees to your chest in a very suggestive position. 
“Uh almost,” Jeongguk trails off. “Why? What’s up?”
You hold back a goofy smile at his distracted tone. “You know how you said you took physics last semester?” He hums in response. “Do you think you could explain a few concepts to me? I have this big ass quiz soon and I don’t wanna bomb it.” 
You wait. The pessimist in you expects a rejection, a flat out ‘I’d rather die than waste my time explaining physics concepts to a 21-year-old,’ but the optimist is waiting with a bouquet of roses on the other side. 
This is Jeongguk we’re talking about. Sweet, sweet, lovely Jeongguk. Not that dickhead that sits in the back of lecture and watches hentai on his phone. 
“Oh. I’m not the best teacher.”
Both the optimist and pessimist in your head are waiting on the balls of their feet. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting but it's an answer you aren’t hurt by! 
“That’s okay! I just need someone to go over it with me. As long as you aren’t mean, I won’t complain.” You want to appeal to Jeongguk in a way that’ll get the guy to bend a little and what other way to a man’s heart than food? “I’ll repay you with dinner,” you sing-song.  
There’s a brief pause, like he’s considering the option while noises mumble in the background. “What’s the menu?” Jeongguk asks. 
God, he’s so cute. Your cheeks are raised so high, they might as well curl into your eyes. 
“I live near a great fried chicken place.” Works out perfectly because you’ve been craving something fried for a while now. Must be your period. 
Jeongguk barely waits a second. “Sold. Text me the time and your address.”
You cut the call after bidding each other goodbye. A giddy squeal almost bubbles out of your lips until you realize that you have about two hours until Jeongguk is in your apartment for the first time ever. 
Alone. No friends. No family. 
Just you and this super hot guy. 
No interruptions. Complete privacy. 
You launch out of bed so fast that you wake up Snowball from her slumber. Quickly, you shower and you take your time to scrub your body with lilac body wash and shave. Usually Friday is your pamper day so this isn’t anything out of the ordinary. Then you wash your greasy hair to rid yourself of the conditioning hair mask you slathered on this morning. After your shower, you walk around your studio with your fluffy bathrobe and microfiber towel on to find the perfect outfit. 
It has to be comfortable but cute. Even though Jeongguk is just tutoring you and there is a high chance that this meeting will only be platonic, you still want to look your best. 
Rummaging through your dresser drawers and closet, your eyes immediately fall to your collection of baby-doll lingerie sets in various colors. An expensive purchase, but you’ve always enjoyed dressing up every now and then. Your fingers dance across the itchy lace, thinking about which one Jeongguk would like? Lilac? Baby pink? Maybe the nude one with the intricate designs on the cups? Or how about the blood red and black one that looks like it came straight out of a BDSM film? 
Nah, that’s too much. You go for yoga pants, a plain t-shirt and a quarter-zip with your university’s logo on it. Then selecting a lacy pair of underwear and no bra. You hate wearing one at home anyways. 
The clothes lay spread out on your bed as you begin your post shower process of lotion, deodorant, a soft scented body spray and then your clothes. Then, you dry your hair and then begin cleaning up the little clutter you have over the place. You’re a neat person, which others find shocking, so there isn’t much to do. You dry some dishes on the rack, reset your bedsheets, light up a candle, empty the litter box, and eat a mediocre salad as you wait for the clock to strike 5pm. 
Time moves at a microscopic pace, probably because you’re staring at the moving hands in hopes that you’ll blink at the pretty boy will be standing at your doorstep. You should focus on something else in the meantime. So you take out your physics notebook and begin reviewing. 
Next week’s quiz will be on a little under ½  of the energy chapter covered so far. You’ve been paying attention, taking diligent notes, and doing pretty good on the homework but the topics still freak you out.  
It’s a STEM thing. You haven’t taken one since your first year so you’re rusty and the material seems extra intimidating. Unlike Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung, you don’t study this on a daily basis. 
But there’s nothing you won’t be able to conquer without working. 
About halfway through your revision is when the buzz of your home intercom rings, shocking you out of your thoughts. Slowly, you get up, dusting the invisible particles off your clothes and going over to the machine to let Jeongguk in. There’s a short waiting game, lasting about two minutes, as he probably comes up from the lobby and reaches your door before knocking. 
You’re putting a kettle of water to boil as the sound resonates and you rush over to open the door with a bright smile on your lips. 
“Hey,” you breathe out, taking in the sights before you. 
As always, Jeongguk looks perfect in a gray long-sleeve t-shirt and black sweats. Like the comfy soft boyfriend of your dreams. His hair is a little damp at the ends but it waves a little past his eyebrow as it grows and his backpack straps pull his shirt wide to show off his broad shoulders. 
Fucking hell, you think. You want to eat him up and ruin him. 
Swallowing shakily, you step aside as he grins. “Hi.” Jeongguk’s voice is low, like usual, but a little buttery and less hoarse. Almost sexy. 
Basically, it’s doing things to you. 
Carefully, you lead him inside where Jeongguk takes his shoes off and stares at the place with those big eyes of his. You wonder what goes through that pretty head of his as he stares at the various stuffed animals and the wall art. But, instead, he lands on the Kirby shaped cat-bed at the base of your bed holding Snowball’s half-asleep body. 
“You have a cat?” He asks. 
“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” You walk in front of the thing, squatting down in front of the entrance to hold a hand out for the ball of fluff to sniff. Snowball headbutts you immediately. “You didn’t inherit your dad’s allergy, did you?” 
That would crush you. As much as you like dogs, you’re a cat person at heart or a Snowball person at heart. 
Jeongguk shakes his head no. Then he comes to the same spot you are and gets on his knees on the opposite side of you, watching with curious doe eyes. Slowly, Jeongguk extends his hand out, thinking Snowball needs time to get used to him like some cats do, but no. She’s friendly and extroverted, getting out of the bed to welcome Jeongguk with an excited soft-tone trill.
It’s heartwarming watching her melt into his touch, purring and climbing into Jeongguk’s lap the more he pets her on all of her favorite spots. 
“You’ve been accepted,” you muse, crossing your arms over your stomach in hopes that by pushing on it, that buttery, gooey, sugary feeling will go away. 
“Yay,” Jeongguk cheers cutely. “What’s her name?” 
“Snowball.” 
“Snowball!” He coos. “You are the cutest ever!” Jeongguk leans down to tell her, slight aegyo in his tone. The rounded tip of his nose brushes the top of her small head
No, you are, is what zings through your mind but don’t tell Snowball you thought that.  
Since your knees start screaming at you to get up, you leave Jeongguk and Snowball to go check on the kettle which is at its very end of boiling the water. You get up on your tiptoes to pull out two white mugs and before grabbing your go-to peach green tea packets, you ask Jeongguk. 
“Tea or coffee?” 
Jeongguk looks up from Snowball curled on his lap, the body of a bright grin on his lips. “Coffee please.” When you nod, he goes back to petting the white feline without another care. 
His adorable politeness removes any nerves you had or any prior sheepishness from the way your studio apartment looks. Small and decorated with all of your interests. The only people that have ever been here are your mother, Jeongyeon and Nayeon. Hookups were always at their place or a hotel so it’s a little odd to see Jeongguk seated on your floor. 
But at the same time, it’s Jeongguk on your floor so you aren’t that worried. 
Pouring the mugs with steaming hot water, you grab a packet of instant coffee while your tea bag steeps and you make Jeongguk his coffee. In the meantime, he’s seated by your coffee table/desk, shrugging his backpack off while Snowball sits beside Jeongguk diligently. Like she’s protecting him from whatever she thinks is going to attack him. 
“I like your place,” Jeongguk says, shocking you for a moment. “It’s very,” he trails off. “Very you.” 
You give him a dulled look over your shoulder. “What do you mean by that?”
“You know, it’s got all of your favorite things.” His chin gestures to the Sanrio stuffed animals, the various figurines from all of your favorite animes, the vintage posters, the bunny paraphernalia, all of your favorite things, like Jeongguk said. 
You turn, pressing the small of your back to the cold counter behind you. “Your place is nice too,” you add for the sake of returning the compliment, although it is true. 
Jeongguk shakes his head. “Yeah but, my landlord is a gaping asshole and hates the idea of posters and paintings since he’s scared it’ll fuck up the wall. It’s nice but it feels dead,” he gives your apartment one more look, “but yours has some personality, you know? I’m kinda jealous.” 
His smile is genuine, sweet and kind. You find yourself melting from the sheer sight of it but you hold yourself back. Don’t want to look too whipped.  
Exhaling with some laughter, you start bringing the mugs over along with some biscuits since it’s tea time. “The first apartment we had when we moved here was like that. The landlord didn’t even let my mom change the curtains even though the ones that came with the place had stains all over it.” Jeongguk grimaces at the thought. “But Mrs. Jeong from our Busan apartment was so nice.” 
What a sweet woman. She would often come down whenever she heard one of them had a cold or if there was a birthday and she was never harsh when your mother’s checks bounced or if she needed an extra day because she hadn’t gotten paid yet. She was the reason you thought all landlords had some semblance of empathy but no. 
“We lived there for about fifteen years. It sucked having to leave.” 
“Oh my god, I didn’t know you moved out!” You gasp, shifting yourself to face him completely. “Is your current place closer to the bakery?”
“No, it’s actually farther but it’s closer to the center of Busan so public transport is good. Plus, noona got a car so it’s not too bad.” 
You sigh. Fuck, you miss Busan so much. Even hearing the slight satoori in Jeongguk’s voice does wonders for your nostalgia as yours only peeks out when you’re angry thanks to teasing from all of the Seoul elitists. 
The beach, the food, the fresh air, the streets, you miss all of it. Such a simple time. You’ve always dreamed of settling there once you’ve figured your life out. It was your end goal. 
“I wanna hear more but let’s get physics out of the way first,” you tap your notebook twice and Jeongguk moves to his backpack to take some items out to start the tutoring session. 
And, to no one’s shock, Jeongguk is actually a really great tutor. 
He’s patient with you and doesn’t mind giving you constant encouragement when you get a bit insecure halfway through a word problem. On concepts you’re unsure about, Jeongguk explains them in the simplest way possible without getting haughty. No outbursts if you make the same mistake two times in a row, he never once calls you stupid or says you’re wasting his time. Jeongguk gently coaches you until you try to solve some problems on your own from the textbook without his help and he checks them afterwards, telling you what you did right and wrong.   
Quite literally, this is all that you wanted. 
Someone to answer your questions, explain a few concepts, and walk you through a couple of examples without questioning your smarts as a whole. 
It’s nice. You feel safe and even better, you feel actually prepared for the quiz which is the opposite of how you felt this morning. You aren’t even worried about it at all. 
After clearing through the sample quiz and practice problems easily in a matter of about 2 ½ hours, you two are all done tutoring. Which means freedom for the rest of the night. 
Quickly, you connect your laptop to the small TV mounted on the wall and put on Love Island since neither of you have watched it. Jeongguk is rather curious about it since Jimin and Taehyung won’t stop talking about it,  so you decide to jump into the newest season with him while leaning against your bed and pulling up the menu for the fried chicken place.
“I’m getting honey garlic,” you tell him when you hand him your phone.  
“Then, I’ll do the spicy cheese one.” He leans closer instead of taking the device and you really wish he didn’t because your body reacts to the proximity with goosebumps erupting all over you like you’re a teenager again. 
Your eyes flick up to his side profile, which is literally perfect. His jaw is strong, well cut, defined and his skin is the color of fresh milk tea. You can see little imperfections on his skin like old acne scars, the slightly chapped surface of his lips, and all of his shiny earrings. You love the way he looks and how Jeongguk has grown into his features.  The urge to trace his jawline with your tongue is insane, almost caustic inside of you. It’s impossible to push down. You sort of dressed up for this tutoring date, throwing on a pair of your favorite panties, lathering yourself in the softest lotion; you took all of the right steps and you’re hungry for a certain ending even though there’s a high chance it won’t happen at all. The horny side of you is begging for you to shoot your shot. 
But you stop. Not yet. Not right now. 
While Jeongguk picks out drinks, appetizers and the dessert he wants,  you rush to the bathroom for a second. In the mirror, you take notice of your reddened cheeks and parted lips and the messy wisps of hair sticking out. You quickly tie it back into a loose braid and then splash some water on your face. 
Reel it back, bitch.  
While in the bathroom, you call out. “Hey Jeongguk? Could you get my wallet? It’s on top of my dresser, the one next to my closet.” Might as well pay now so you can get the chicken faster. 
“Okay!” He responds. 
The noise your stomach makes is loud and painful. The salad you had did nothing to satiate your cravings so the thought of chicken, perfectly fried to a crisp and covered in garlicky sweet sauce has you practically salivating. Especially since you’ve been eating so healthily as of late. It’s nice to treat yourself to some fast food.
Afterwards, you trudge back on over to the coffee table and plop down silently while Jeongguk puts in your card information. Meanwhile, you remember to feed Snowball for dinner and give her some much needed attention by bringing her to sit with the two of you so she can be pet and loved. 
Jeongguk’s warmth emanates from his shoulder that is inches away from you while the Love Island intro song plays at the start of every new season. Half-heartedly, you watch the corny antics as each contestant introduces themselves with the main host speaking over and you think about how much internal anguish you’re feeling at the moment. 
An object prods into your forearm. You look down to see the rounded edge of your credit card. “I paid,” Jeongguk tells you. You don’t respond verbally, taking the plastic and shoving it into the slot of your card wallet. 
“Thanks,” you mumble. You bring your knees up to your chest and rest your chin on top of them, hoping to get into the various shirtless tattooed guys on your television screen. It’s an easy task. Shows like Love Island don’t ask too much of you but you can get into it enough where other thoughts begin to fade. 
You check your phone to see that the chicken should be delivered in about 10 minutes. Then you can have food and TV to reward you for all of your hard work. 
The beginning is awkward as each person picks their couple purely based on looks and their name. You cringe when a guy comes in and no one steps up to match with him so he has to randomly choose a girl who was either too shy to step up to say she thinks he’s cute or not at all interested in him. It sounds like such an awkward place to be in and you’d hate to be on either side of the situation. 
Jeongguk, on the other hand, isn’t a reality TV kind of guy. So he has a million questions and comments throughout the 57 minute episode. 
“I don’t get it. They just shove 10 hot people in a house and they have to like each other?” 
“Fuck, that’s how you’re supposed to say Leicester?” 
“That one guy looks like such a fuck boy. Why would you ever get a chest tattoo of an eagle?” 
“What happens if you don’t like anyone you match with? Can you just leave?” You shrug in response. This is your first time watching this show too.  “I’d leave so fast if I was on this show. None of these people would interest me.”
“Me too,” you respond, playing with the frayed edge of an old receipt sticking out of one of the wallet pockets. “I’d get the ick so fast and then hop on the first plane back home.” 
Jeongguk’s bantering turns the simple binge into something more. You start laughing, indulging his every whim, making fun of the guys trying too hard to flirt and seem suave and it’s really fun. You manage to barely remember the way you felt when you came out of the bathroom. 
Is this how it should always be? Platonically hanging out? 
Was it a good thing that you stopped yourself before your desires took over your logic?
You don’t know. You don’t want to either. You just want to sit back and enjoy the rest of this lovely day off. 
After another few minutes of watching the show, you feel Jeongguk’s eyes on you. Wide, glittery, washing over every inch of your skin like he’s trying to commit your features to memory. You raise an eyebrow in question. For a moment, he doesn’t do anything, just stares at you, and then he points to your phone screen where a notification from the delivery app shows. 
The food is here. 
Quickly, you go down, slipping some slides on your feet and shoving your hands in the pockets of your sweater. The delivery person hands you the plastic bag with steaming boxes and you thank them before trundling back upstairs. The smell that wafts to you is mouth-wateringly delicious. 
This. This is your treat after a grueling two weeks of school. 
You bring it up for you and Jeongguk to dig into. The chicken is fresh and delicious and in combination with Jeongguk’s commentary, you start to really enjoy yourself. Especially as all your sex related thoughts begin to push to the back of your brain and the night gets more fun yet relaxing. The food is good and the drinks are refreshing. 
Afterwards, you crack open a bag of  kit kats to share with him to cap off the meal with something sweet since none of the desserts at the restaurant sounded appealing to either of you. 
Love Island is addictive. Your friends were right about it. Two episodes later and the two of you are curious about who is the new islander coming and how they are going to shake things up. 
The TV is on the wall mounted across your bed and coffee table. For the sake of your backs, you move Jeongguk to the bed and take some pillows to lean against so your backs aren’t completely sore by the next morning. 
Although, you do wish your back was sore for another reason but let’s not get into that just yet. 
Since you don’t have a lot of pillows, you share your main one, meaning you’re a lot closer to Jeongguk than you originally planned. To the point where your arms are pressed against each other and your legs are brushing. It makes you nervous to be this close. His perfume is a strong elixir, heady and comforting, pushing you to lean in and bury your face into the delectable skin of his neck. Even his neck, wow. The skin is so smooth, there’s a mole right in the middle of it. You want to sink your teeth into the flesh and use your lips and tongue to paint it all sorts of beautiful colors. 
Sweat begins to form on your hairline. You get nervous with Jeongguk sitting so close to you, hands itching to do something. First they play around with the single star pendant on your necklace, then at a loose thread on your comforter, and then you decide to redo your hair. 
The braid has become a straggly mess with you leaned against things so you pull your hair tie off and begin to undo your braid. At the very least, it is something for your hands to do, keep them occupied and away. 
From Jeongguk that is. You don’t want to obstruct his view or break his attention. 
Pushing off from the pillow, suddenly something happens on screen that makes your head turn abruptly  to see who said what and your hair wacks Jeongguk right in the eye. 
“Shit,” he hisses, clutching his face, curling inwards. 
You begin to panic, turning in on your knees to get closer to him. 
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was trying to tie my hair and then something happened on screen so I–” you stop midway, no need for an explanation. Instead, check to see if your hair scratches him in the cornea or not.
Jeongguk’s legs, that were once crossed, are now spread wide without your body taking up the space next to him on your bed. Without a second thought, you cross over the one closest to you and end up in between his two long legs. One hand on his shoulder to grab his attention. 
“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly, trying to search his gaze but Jeongguk’s eyes are turned down. “Jeongguk?” 
Muffled, he speaks up. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.” Jeongguk drops his hands onto his thighs before blinking a few times and you see a telltale tear pool from his big doe eyes, dripping down the slope of his cheek. 
A huge wave of guilt crashes inside of you. 
You made Jeongguk cry. 
Not intentionally but still. He’s crying. 
“Aw,” you cup his cheeks, searching his irises for anything like you’re a licensed ophthalmologist or something, wiping the stray tear with your thumb.“I’m really sorry. Do you need eye drops or anything?” You sit down on your feet, leaning closer to see him. “I can go check in my medicine box if I have any left from Spring.”
He doesn’t respond. 
 Jeongguk freezes immediately with you between his legs. As if all of his blood stops flowing through his veins and he’s turned to stone by Medusa. He glances at every corner of your face, at the strands of hair framing it, like he’s never seen you before. His jaw unhinges and the tip of his pink tongue is just barely visible. 
You don’t even notice how close you get. So worried about the possibility of your hair scratching his cornea that you forget that your knees are brushing against his crotch. Nor do you think about how your face is near, you’re literally staring down like you’re about to kiss him despite dreaming about being in this position all day. 
The only thing echoing in your mind is: Is Jeongguk okay? 
Not another thought. 
“I–” he stops, lips parted, “I’m okay, really.” 
Jeongguk’s palm gently pushes your hands off of his cheeks and he shifts in his spot. 
He’s practically shielding himself for you. His legs are pushed up to his chest now. Jeongguk looks like an animal that’s getting scolded for spilling food everywhere and you cannot understand why on earth he’d be making a face like that. 
“Is something wrong?” You ask. Jeongguk covers his face but you can see his ears starting to turn red. 
You inch closer to him and gently wrap your fingers around his wrist. You’re so close you can smell the gentle perfume he’s sprayed on his neck and the inviting scent of his hair serum. But he’s wriggling around like a fish out of water and it’s scaring you. 
His hands move down, ripping his wrist out of your grip to cover up his crotch and you see a glimpse of the obvious bulge poking from his sweatpants. 
Oh. 
You recoil, muscles tightening as your brain moves a mile a minute. Something Jeongguk must sense from you because he starts explaining way faster than you thought he would. 
“I’m sorry! This is–I can leave if you’d like–” 
“It’s okay, Jeongguk,” you mumble. Your voice is soft. 
It’s okay. It’s more than okay. 
It’s better than okay. 
Jeongguk continues to panic, deaf to your obvious nonchalance about him popping a boner right after you almost blinded him. “I don’t–It just sort of happened-and-and I wasn’t like–thinking a-about you or doing anything–it just,” he pauses midway, sighs to catch his breath, stops nervously stuttering,  and then turns to get up which makes you a little nervous. “I’ll go to the bathroom and get rid of it–”
In a flash, your hand wraps around his wrist to stop him from moving. 
“It’s okay,” you repeat. “I’m not grossed out.” Literally, you are the complete opposite of that but barely you mull it over one last time before speaking up again. “I could fix it, if you’d like.” Just before your conscience could stop you.
This is it. This is your chance to have him. Just once, satiate that need, and then you can go back to normal. 
The universe practically handed you this opportunity on a golden platter so you should take it. Given that Jeongguk is down too. 
His eyes go adorably wide. “W-what?” Jeongguk stutters. 
“I could help you deal with it.”  You say once more. 
At least your voice is clear and sure. On the inside, you’re just a giant piece of adrenaline. 
Jeongguk relaxes some more, gulping, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob. His shoulders broaden like he’s trying to seem confident but you can tell that he’s nervous as fuck too. 
“Why would you do that?” 
Oh, you pretty thing. You have no idea, do you?
“I don’t mind,” you shrug. Feeling bold, the hand that rests on his shoulder squeezes the mass indulgently and Jeongguk feels exquisite. You want to rip all of these clothes off of his body. “You helped me with physics so,” trailing off, as if it’s the only logical solution to this problem. 
To you, it feels like it is. Trade an A on a quiz for an orgasm. 
Plus, you finally get to rid yourself of this intense sexual tension building inside of you. A combination of your hormones and your loneliness all cooked up to make a touch-starved mess at the tiniest thing. Being with Jeongguk could be just what you need to get your focus back on yourself. He’s gorgeous, inside and out, so there’s no intense guilt to bubble from letting some douchebag grow an even bigger ego by sleeping with you. 
Jeongguk is still apprehensive. “You… you know you don’t-like-owe it to me to fix this, right? Just because I got hard doesn’t mean it’s your job to do something for me.” 
You’re taken aback. 
Most guys wouldn’t have even protested. Your mouth would be on his dick and the minute they come, you’d be all alone. They’re the types to view sex in a very individualistic manner. 
A dopey smile makes its way to your lips. “I know. This isn’t a really transactional thing.” You cup his cheek with one hand this time and trace the deep scar there absentmindedly. “I actually want to do this.” 
If Jeongguk were to hear the insane things your brain produces, you wonder if he’d run for the hills or be flattered. Definitely the former. 
“Okay but um,” he avoids your eyes, looking off to the side and you sort of love Jeongguk like this. It’s so different from his nonchalant easygoing behavior.  “I’ve never,” he searches for the words, changes his mind halfway through, and finds another path. “No one has ever like-oh god this is embarrassing–”
You decide to save him. “No one’s ever given you a blowjob?” 
He nods behind his hands that rose to cover his reddening face during his reveal. God, he’s adorable. 
“Really?”
“Is that such a surprise?”
“Yeah, I mean, you’re hot.” You say truthfully. His change of expression does wonders for your confidence. So much so that you decide to bite the bullet and run a hand through his hair affectionately. “How far have you gone?”
The strands are silky smooth, flowing through your fingers like water, and Jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation as he mumbles out a response. 
“I kissed someone but only a few times. I got dragged to a high school party and played spin the bottle but nothing more than that.” 
This is new for you. Almost every guy you’ve ever been with is experienced or way more experienced than you. From the guy in high school who took your virginity all the way to Wooshik. And they varied from vanilla guys to those who are super into the dom/sub spiel. You’ve never been the experienced one and it feels different. 
Like you’re corrupting him, forcibly taking away something precious. Like Mrs. Robinson on the prowl for someone younger whom she can use to her advantage. 
And even though that isn’t the case with you and Jeongguk, you want this to be different than your first time. If anything, you want him to feel safe and wanted and to let him know that, at any point, if he wants to stop then it will stop. Just like there’s no obligation for you to make him feel good, there is no obligation for him to return the favor. 
“Then let’s start with that and then we can move on if you’re comfortable. Or we don’t have to do anything and we can just forget about it. Whatever you want.” 
You won’t do anything unless he wants you to. As much as you want to touch him, as much as you need sex, you’re totally fine with taking things at his pace. 
And if he rejects this entire thing and opts to fix his situation in the bathroom, that’s okay too. 
Jeongguk presses the back of his head against the wall in thought, giving you an amazing view of his jawline, until he shyly speaks. “Okay.” 
“Okay?” You want to be sure, hiding the fact that you are utterly elated on the inside.  Jeongguk just turns more red as he avoids your eyes peering into him. 
“You–we can start. I-if that’s what you want.” 
You exhale through your nose. “Oh, you have no idea how much I want to.” 
Before he can question you, you lean down and gently connect your lips with his. 
There’s a moment where it feels foreign, where your body becomes covered with goosebumps at the sheer adrenaline coursing through you and the way your brain freaks out at the change. This is happening, you’re finally doing this, but you take a second to just press and feel. Be in the moment and stop trying to control everything, then you’re fine. 
It’s easy because Jeongguk’s lips are pillowy soft. 
Starting off with a quick peck, you split for a second, nose brushing, and then you kiss Jeongguk again. This time it’s much stronger. Any lack of confidence melts when your lips move languidly against Jeongguk. He’s responsive to your every movement, feeling the inside of your mouth with his own, while his hands rest appropriately on your hips. His lip balm is rose flavored and delectable. Jeongguk is a good kisser. 
The noises fill the quiet apartment as you move closer and cup his jaw on one side while your other hand goes back to his silky soft hair to move your lips cohesively. You adjust yourself so that instead of kneeling between his legs, you’re straddling his thick muscular thighs and they feel exquisite against you, pulling a soft sigh from your lips. 
Jeongguk must feel your exhale, gaining some bravado to take the lead when he kisses you, setting the pace as his own hands begin to move from their comfortable spot on your hips. Part of you really wants to push them down to your ass to feel those big sexy hands grab a handful but you want to wait to see what he does.
He kisses you a little wet but wanton, igniting a deep burning flame inside of you. It’s bright, hot, and you can’t pull yourself away from him the more your lips collide, suckle, and slot. 
Jeongguk’s hands begin tracing up your back with a feather-light touch, and your lips part at the feeling when he unexpectedly inches his tongue into your mouth. 
Looks like he wasn’t lying when he said he’s kissed before. 
Crackles of pleasure bubble in you. Kissing can turn you on, if the guy is good at what he does, and Jeongguk is doing just that. That throbbing sensation takes over and you find yourself clenching around nothing, dreaming of having something just fill you just how you like. His tongue tangles with yours. The kiss starts to get much sloppier, something you didn’t realize you were craving until now, and you rise up on your knees while gently tugging on his hair in a flash of atypical roughness on your end. 
Your mind refuses to process that this is Jihyo’s little brother who is kissing you silly. Right now, he’s Jeongguk. 
Jeongguk with the gorgeous eyes and the gorgeous body who got hard the moment you inched closer. 
You decide to grind down on him, especially when the curve of his bulge becomes more prominent against your ass, and Jeongguk muffles a noise into your mouth. The fabric of your underwear drags across your neglected clit, pulling another sigh out of you. It’s a small jolt of pleasure and you can feel yourself dampen even more. From the action and from the way Jeongguk sounds. 
Another moan comes from Jeongguk when you grind against him again and again, whiny yet soft. It’s doing something to you. His hands squeeze your hips and then one drifts to the back of your thigh. 
Pulling away to catch your breath, you press your forehead against his. There’s a thin layer of sweat building on your skin but your arms loop comfortably around Jeongguk’s neck, tugging his body forwards. His eyes glimmer at you, with kiss-bruised lips and the beginnings of his pearly white bunny teeth peeking out from between. You resist the urge to dive down again, instead wanting to appreciate the absolute view you have right now. 
Your fingers tangle in a lock of his soft black hair. “You’re so gorgeous,” you whisper, taking in his forehead, his jawline, his perfect nose, and every single one of his moles. 
Jeongguk, who is already blushed and heavily breathing, gets even more shy at your compliment, looking away from you to avoid your teasing smile. Which just makes you want to shower him in more praise just to see how embarrassed he can get. 
“So pretty, so handsome,” your finger traces his jaw before going down to his unblemished neck where the skin looks so soft but the area is taut and beautiful. You want to see how he’d look with hickeys. “I want to mark you,” you point to the middle of the right side of his neck, “right here.” 
Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise to his hairlines. “You want to give me a hickey?” He says incredulously. You nod. 
“I want you to remember this.”
Usually, you aren’t the possessive type but you think about Juri, walking through campus and finding Jeongguk, someone that she’s expressed interest in, like this. Covered in marks you left, reeling after the pleasure you gave him. You know the chance is unlikely and if Jeongguk were to run into her, you doubt he’d tell her any bit of what you two had done but it’s the principle of it all. 
That she can be a misogynistic pick-me/not-like-the-other girl all she wants, you still pull better than she ever will. 
Maybe then, she’ll keep your name out of her damn mouth. 
Jeongguk exhales quietly, holding some weight. “Do you actually think I’ll forget this?” 
You smirk. “Dunno, but I can’t let a pretty little thing like you get away, can I? Especially with all of those other girls who love to stare.”
It happens often whenever you two would be walking from class or on public transport and people would stare at Jeongguk. Not that you’d blame them. With a face like that, Jeongguk could debut as an idol and win the hearts of millions, he could act or model even, but then you become more aware of the fact that someone even better could scoop him up at any time and you wouldn’t stand a chance against them. 
“I won’t,” he starts, shaking his head with eyes so honest and truthful that you almost collapse in his hold. “I won’t go away and I won’t forget, okay?” Jeongguk pleads with you, holding your body still with two exact hands on your hips. 
You swear your stomach feels a group of butterflies flapping about, along with unicorns and rainbows and glitter and all of that silly shit when Jeongguk says that. The hand in his hair cups his cheek, thumb tracing his cheekbone. 
“You won’t?” 
“Never,” Jeongguk presses firmly. “And,” he hesitates for a moment, “and I’m not looking at anyone else right now, either. There’s just you.” 
There’s just you. 
The sentence sounds like a confession. Like he’s being honest while you were just being horny and possessive. You feel your act drop, whatever front you were putting up, it drops, and you don’t know what to say at first. 
The truth? You aren’t thinking about anyone else either. You don’t want to. You want Jeongguk. There’s only Jeongguk right now. 
Had this been with any other person, you wouldn’t feel comfortable being honest with them. You wouldn’t trust them not to use that against you but you know Jeongguk and you trust Jeongguk more than anything. 
“I… I’m not looking at anyone either,” you manage to mumble out. Now you’re the one who is all red and shy. 
And watching Jeongguk’s expression change when you said that… priceless. 
He stares at you like you hung all of the stars in the sky, that you push the sun up in the sky every morning, like the dew droplets on the blades of grass, like it was just you. 
It’s perfect yet so much at the same time. You want to say more but you don’t know what else you could say so you meet his gaze, then dip down to his lips, and he nods so you lean in to kiss him again. 
He makes a noise of surprise, immediately licking fiercely into your mouth to meet the movements of your lips. Slowly, Jeongguk pulls away from the wall and begins moving down to lay against the bed, holding himself up with a forearm on the soft material and strengthening his hold on you so you wouldn’t slip off from him. 
You feel Jeongguk grin against your lips at your eagerness but he maintains the energy. Arching your back a little, mostly for show, you reach back and push one of Jeongguk’s hands further down to your ass. He’s been so careful and gentle with you so far and, as nice as it is, you want more. His eyebrows furrow against you, curling his palm over the tangible curve before giving your ass a tentative squeeze and pulling a muffled moan from you. 
So Jeongguk does it again. Does it with more vigor, digging his fingers into the flesh of your cheek and grinding his hips upwards. Gets you throbbing insufferably and so wet. 
“Jeongguk,” you gasp into his mouth, meeting the movement of his hips with your own. The bulge in his pants becomes really prominent as you break the kiss, moving down his strong jawline to his perfect neck. 
Whatever perfume he uses, the smell is strong now, filling your olfactory senses with sweet powdery softness. Your lips search for that spot you ache to mark, digging your teeth into the gentle flesh and soothing  the area over with your tongue. 
The noise he makes…
Jeongguk whimpered when you were sucking and biting on his skin. 
It took so much willpower for you to not rip his damn top off when that sound reached your ears. You were so wet and throbbing in your pants, desperate for some form of touch besides your soaked underwear against your clit. If you could, you’d cover his entire body with hickeys, paint his neck all sorts of beautiful colors if it were socially acceptable for someone to be walking around like that and not have everyone’s immediate thought be that he got jumped or something. 
But you practice restraint and suck on the hot skin, kissing, and doing your best to keep yourself under control even if your wetness was starting to become bothersome. Jeongguk’s hands on your ass don’t help with that either. 
The hold helps you feel the shape of his fingers which are pretty long and thick. You’ve seen them writing, typing, gripping onto the pole in the subway so the veins and tendons pop out and you’ve reached a conclusion that you need to feel them inside of you. Pumping deep and slow. Since the digits are longer than yours, they would reach that damned spot inside, turn you into a shaking, coming, mess. You crave that. 
Even before Wooshik, these dry spells weren’t uncommon. You know that it’s just your monthly horror revving up the hormones that’s making you want some dick like water in a desert but still. 
A girl has her needs. Especially when said girl is constantly hanging around a hot guy. 
Once you pull away from his neck after creating a total of three hickeys, you sit up. All of the kissing and petting and grinding has made you all sweaty so you quickly pull off your quarter-zip hoodie, leaving the plain t-shirt you have on underneath with no bra. 
Jeongguk’s eyes fall to the way your breasts lift and fall with the movement, jiggling into place as you throw the piece of clothing somewhere. The change in temperature has your nipples straining against the thin material and you can tell his attention has shifted. 
With a cocked brow, you smirk. “Want my shirt off?” You ask, slowly twisting the hem around a single finger. 
“Yeah.” 
His hands give your ass another appreciative squeeze. One that nearly has you dropping the control but you rebuild quickly. 
“Take this off then.” You place a hand down on the base of his stomach. Jeongguk’s shirt is thin so you can feel his stomach through the fabric. You need it off asap. 
Jeongguk’s lips part. You think he’s going to deny at first. Maybe he isn’t comfortable showing you his body yet. That’s okay; you don’t mind. Whatever he’s comfortable with, right? 
But in a split second, he grips the gray fabric and sits up slightly to peel it off of his body and gives you a view of what he has underneath. 
Which is just exquisite. 
Jeongguk treats his body like it’s a work of art. When he isn’t gaming or studying, he’s in the gym and he has one of the strictest meal plans you ever see. Allowing himself one cheat meal out of the week and then sticking to his rice, steamed veggie and lean meats for the rest of the days. And that dedication shows in the way his body looks. 
While still being thin and put together, his stomach is defined with steel-cut abs and his obliques are enviable along with sturdy shoulders, firm chest and deliciously bulky arms. 
You’ve never really cared about the body of whoever you were sleeping with. Muscles are nice and hot but they aren’t a necessity. Honestly, having a handsome/pretty face can get a guy farther than a six pack but now you might be changing your mind on that stance. Because Jeongguk has a pretty face and a six pack. 
Or is that a twelve pack? You didn’t really count. 
A single finger starts at Jeongguk’s sternum, tracing down his body to the waistband of his sweats, taking your time to appreciate every patch of skin and flesh. You inch backwards so you are sitting more on his thighs than his lap where his bulge is firmly straining against his pants. Looking all inviting. Your thighs clench together to relieve yourself from the lack of attention.
But before you can wrap your hands around him, Jeongguk’s fingers close around your wrist to stop you. 
“You said if I took my shirt off, you would too,” he reminds you. His tone is low, barely teetering into a domineering one. Brings a rush of arousal to your pussy and you immediately bite the inside of your cheek. 
Jeongguk ordering you around is… really hot. 
“Eager.” 
The plain t-shirt is rather unflattering on the outside so you do away with it quickly, feeling the mass of your breasts lift and bounce back down while adjusting to the temperature change. Your nipples are hard and goosebumps cover your upper body. 
But that’s mainly caused by the way Jeongguk’s eyes practically ravish you. 
You wonder if he’s more of an ass guy or a boob guy. Because his grip has stayed on the plump curve of your backside but his tongue swipes over his bottom lip while staring at your tits like he’s at the Louvre and he has two seconds to take a glance at the Mona Lisa. 
  There’s a sense of vulnerability to have him look at you like this. Like you’re something perfect when all everyone else, including yourself, does is point out your faults. 
It’s too much. You need to make a move, get his eyes off of you, so your hand goes back to the waistline of his pants where his boxer band flashes quickly. Calvin Klein, black in color to match the color of his sweatpants. 
“Can I?” You ask, looking down at the heavy print showing through the material and your mouth waters. 
Jeongguk nods immediately. “Please.” 
Carefully, you peel back the first layer of clothing. The tight elastic pressure around his waist is enough to slowly peel back Jeongguk’s boxers, exposing the beginning of his ilium but then he raises his hips some more until his sweatpants are pushed a little past the beginning of his quad muscles. You desperately want to see the sinew on his legs because you’ve been feeling them flex and move against you this entire time and they are just to your expectations. His skin is soft, a little tanned, thin hairs barely visible on his thighs from the hallowed light. 
“What do you want? My hand or my mouth?” 
You said a blowjob but whatever he wants, you will do. 
His eyes darken with lust. “Y-your hand, first,” Jeongguk stutters, shaking some hair off his sweaty forehead.  You try not to smile excitedly at the word first. 
“Okay.” 
After pressing one more kiss on his perfect nose, your palm cups his bulge. Against the material, you can see somewhat of a defined shape. It’s thick, impressive looking, and your wetness is soaking through your pants, effectively ruining the pair but that’s the least of your concerns. You fight the urge to grind into something, relieve some of the throbbing pressure from your core, clenching around nothing in hopes that it will fix. 
Jeongguk says your name carefully, checking to see if you’re still okay with continuing and your attention is back on him. You give him a wry smile in response and then work on slowly tugging his boxers off of his hips to free his cock. 
You gasp when his length slaps against his bare stomach, incapable of holding it in. 
 He’s big and thick; bigger and thicker than any guy you’ve ever been with. Jeongguk’s dick is pretty. Two veins trailing up the sides and pulsating with blood, the tip peeking with a small droplet of pearly white pre-cum. 
“Fuck,” you curse, reaching a hand forward to barely wrap around him. Your fingers manage to encompass the whole circumference but you can only accredit that to your long digits. Otherwise he would be too girthy. 
Jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut when you pump his length once. His jawline strains sexily as little puffs of air escape his lips. He looks so good when he’s pleased. As if he was made to only look like that. The emotion sits perfectly on his pretty features. 
A bead of pearly white fluid seeps from the stop, collecting slightly over the flesh-toned head. You lick your lips. “I don’t think you’ll fit in my mouth.” 
“W-what?” He stammers. 
“You’re too big, baby,” you purr, panicking momentarily about the pet name. “Shit,” swearing under your breath when you feel him twitch. Then, you let a fat drop of spit fall from your mouth and onto the head to aid your hand gliding up and down. “My throat will definitely be sore tomorrow.” 
Not that you’re complaining. 
The boy beneath you flushes. “I–” his breathing quickening when your hand works over him expertly, barely a moan. “You–um–you don’t have to,” Jeongguk offers. 
You coo, reaching forward to boop Jeongguk’s cute little nose with your free hand, still slowly jerking his cock with the other, giving the fat length a nice squeeze at the base. “But I want to,” forcing a pout and watching his gaze turn heady with euphoria. “Don’t you want me to use my mouth? To suck you off nice and properly?” 
This is new for you. You are usually rather submissive in bed and you’ve always liked it that way. If anything, you sought after guys who were more dominant because it was an immediate turn-on for you but now that you’ve made Jeongguk all pliant and soft, you can’t stop. He just looks so perfect. His eyes clench shut, creases appearing at the sides when your hands squeeze his length teasingly on the upstroke, legs going more rigid. 
Jeongguk doesn’t respond at first so you lean down, holding yourself up with one hand splayed on the mattress, right next to his head, and increase the pace of your hand. You pay special attention to the tip and the spot right under where he’s sensitive, rubbing a thumb over the area to collect more precum on the way down his cock. Jeongguk sputters out a soft noise, gritting his teeth tightly. 
“You have to tell me what you want, Jeongguk,” you muse. The tips of your noses graze, your breasts meeting his hot skin. Jeongguk’s hands, which switched to curling into the fabric of your duvet, go to your thighs to squeeze them. At that point, you decide to only stimulate the head of his cock with the pad of your thumb, rubbing teasingly tight circles while Jeongguk leaks all over, rivulets of creamy white decorating his length.  “My hands? Or my mouth? What do you want me to do?”
Jeongguk goes crazy.  His back arches off the mattress along with a high whine emitting from his swollen lips. He looks so overwhelmed with red cheeks and his hands gripping onto your body like it’s a lifeline. 
“Y-your mouth! I want your mouth, please,” he whines once more, digging his nails into your thighs, surely leaving indents. You smile, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips before descending down his taut body. 
Jeongguk is a work of art after all and you need time to appreciate him. 
Your hands stop their tortuous movement, leaving Jeongguk’s cock to hold yourself up while inching down. You kiss down the right side of his neck. The skin is salty from sweat but you don’t mind. You kiss all the marks you left, the mole on his chest, the beginning of his abs (you pay special attention to this area), licking up a stripe to feel the ridges of his body before you end up on your knees in between his legs. 
While you were kissing him, Jeongguk kicked his sweatpants off his legs, allowing you to capture a full glimpse of his meaty thighs. His skin is flawless and soft looking and you bookmark the thought of leaving red lines atop his thighs while riding him like a fucking stallion for later. 
His length deliciously twitches again from the brief lack of touch. You eye it for a split second, mouth watering, before taking the head between your lips. He throws his head back in satisfaction. 
Jeongguk tastes good. A mix of skin, salt, but he isn’t bitter; soft, pliable skin meets the plush membrane in your mouth. You moan out while your tongue circles the head, awarding you with a fresh spurt of pre-cum. 
Giving head isn’t everyone’s favorite (totally understandable) but it’s definitely yours. You don’t know why, maybe you have an oral fixation that you don’t know about, but it always makes you wet and desperate for more. Especially when the guy you’re blowing has hot moans like Jeongguk does. 
“Fuck,” he drawls out, while your tongue moves over him. He wraps a hand around the back of your hair gently, barely pushing you down to take more of him into your mouth. 
Ideally, you’d punish Jeongguk for that. If you were continuing this dominatrix stint you have going on then he shouldn’t be pushing you and trying to choke you but you drop the whole act. 
Because he feels so good. 
Your wetness is trickling down the swell of your ass as more of your mouth stretches to accommodate his length. The back of his head is about to reach the back of your throat when you wrap a hand around to pump what you can’t reach. It’ll be impossible to take him all in one go. You need to warm up first. Fat rivulets of spit trail down to his base and collect there to ease your ministrations. 
“So good,” Jeongguk praises, tangling his fingers in your hair while the wet sucking noises filter through your apartment. “You’re s-so good at this.” 
Jeongguk’s low voice isn’t helping you. Another pathetically whiny noise is muffled by his big dick going back into your mouth, swallowing around the tip as you take a little more than before. 
Swirling your mouth, using the inside of your cheek, the side of your tongue and the puckered membrane of your lips in conjunction with your nimble hands, jacking his thick cock and feeling the skin get hotter, wetter, with every second that passes by. 
He’s probably big enough to make you squirt. Though, you are the type to squirt easily, but guys around his size tend to hit the g-spot head on, to turn you into a shaking, coming, moaning mess in their arms. The thought really gets you going, imagining yourself sinking down on him like a Queen perched on her throne and spilling all over his thighs with a loud noise. 
Would he like it? Would he want to see you do it again? 
Fuck, you need a little bit of friction here. The combination of sucking him off, Jeongguk’s breathy whiny noises, and the deranged thoughts in your brain make your pussy so needy, demanding attention. 
You think about reaching back and rubbing yourself, just for a second, but your brain is too transfixed on Jeongguk. 
“P-please don’t stop-p,” he begs, “Please–Ah, yes.” Sounding like he’s about to cry. 
Your wrist flicks up during your motions while you pay special attention to the head. Jeongguk twitches some more and judging by how hard he grips your hair, he must be close. 
So you make sure your tongue stimulates all of the areas that make Jeongguk quiver in your hold. Your back arches, suckling at the skin. 
“Can I,” he interrupts himself with a moan, hands shaking, “Can I cum in your mouth?” He asks politely. 
You pull off with a breathy sigh, moving your hand to respond. “Please.” You want to taste more of him, until he’s filling your throat up completely. 
Sinking back down, you take in as much of him as you can, deep-throating his cock to the best of your abilities. It’s wet, the noises are filthy, salacious, but you don’t really care that much. Jeongguk’s cock twitches again as he spurts into your mouth, awarding you with his release as he whines throughout. 
And like a good girl, you swallow every last drop, refusing to let even a tiny drop of it go to waste. 
Jeongguk pants. His fingers slip out of your ratty hair and his hand slap over his forehead while he collects himself. His thighs shake with the aftershocks of his orgasm, sweat collected at the enticing dip of his collarbones, making his skin look like it’s speckled with diamonds. While you sit up slowly and wipe the back of your mouth, tucking his slowly softening length back into his boxers with a soft pat. 
For a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything to you. All Jeongguk does is try to catch his breath, probably slow his heart rate a bit. 
In that short period of time, your brain speeds at 100 miles per second. Did Jeongguk like it? Did Jeongguk hate it? Will he let you do it again? Oh my god, do you want to do it again and again and again. Is he uncomfortable around you now? What next? 
Your thighs are folded under you, watching Jeongguk’s stomach tense and flex as he leans on his elbows to look at you. 
His lips are adorable pouty and the hickeys look really pretty on his skin. You want so much more from him but you’re too afraid to vocalize it. You don’t want to stop. You don’t want to wake up and force this memory out of your brain. Jeongguk is so pretty and perfect and so easy to want. 
“C’mere,” he says softly, exhaling quickly with a stupid grin. Unsure if he meant his lap or right next to him, you shuffle closer until Jeongguk pats the space next to his body and you move accordingly. Hands an knees on the bed like a slinking cat. 
The air, which was once zinging with tension, has simmered down a little. Jeongguk’s arm stretches out for you to lean your head on his bicep. Up close, his eyes sparkle more than the stars in the night sky as Jeongguk pushes all of the loose strands of hair out of your sweaty face. 
“You were really good,” he repeats. “Thank you for that.” 
It feels weird to be thanked for sucking dick so you shake your head. “No need to thank me.” And because it doesn’t hurt to be truthful, you open your mouth once more. “I really wanted to.” 
Jeongguk’s expression warms; his smile gets wider and his cheeks get rounder. His thumb traces the curve of your jaw, dancing over your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory again.
“So can I return the favor?” 
Your heart leaps to your throat. You were sure Jeongguk was under the impression that this was a simple blowie, the end. Nothing else and nothing more. Even though you wanted more, you were ready to leave this romp at that but he proves you wrong once again. 
You raise an eyebrow. “You want to?” 
Most guys don’t. Most guys give up the second they cum without even offering.
But Jeongguk fucking smirks when he noticed your shocked expression. “I really want to,” he copies you. 
Fuck, you think. You put on a nice pair of underwear thinking that this would happen and then the entire tutoring session you were gaslighting yourself into thinking that nothing would ever happen and now here you are. 
There’s no doubt in your mind that you want this. Your panties are soaked and your core is aching to be touched. You need it so bad that you might never forgive yourself for turning this down.  
“Okay.” 
“Okay?” Jeongguk repeats. 
“Touch me. Please Jeongguk,” you plead with him, placing a soft hand on his warm chest. The breath is just about to escape you when he leans in to kiss you with his supple lips. 
You almost cringe. You must taste like him and you’re sure that there’s still some moisture collected in the corner of your mouth but Jeongguk doesn’t care. He licks hotly into your mouth, taking control during the kiss which surprises you completely. 
Gone is the shy whimpering boy who begged you not to stop. Jeongguk’s fingers squeeze your hips then pull one of your legs over his thighs so that you get even closer to him and your center is more exposed. That same hand travels upwards to your tits and cups the mass, and it’s your turn to shake in his hold. 
He’s starting off perfectly, like he knows what moves drive you crazy just by looking at you. 
You sigh softly when your lips break and he begins kissing down your neck. Unlike you, Jeongguk doesn’t leave any marks. Instead, he’s strategic about creating a clean line from your mouth, smooching along your jaw, then the side of your neck, to the middle of your collarbones before meeting your boobs. Jeongguk hauls you up the bed a little so he’s facing your chest instead, bringing your body closer with a splayed hand on your back. 
“Jeongguk,” you try, unsure as to why you’re calling him out. Jeongguk pays you no attention, transfixed by your naked breasts. He expels something inaudible under his breath and then takes one of your nipples into his mouth while tweaking the other, causing your body to go rigid. 
His lips wrap around the bud, sucking and circling his tongue over it while his other hand tweaks and pulls at the other. Like his tongue, his finger moves in time to turn you into a pile of mush. You grind onto nothing, wishing it was his thigh instead because you need friction from how wet and needy you’ve become in the span of like 20 minutes. 
Moaning out at the feeling of him slowly stimulating you, Jeongguk switches to the other one until your nipples are left shiny, wet, and puffy from his lips and tongue. 
He picks up fast, it seems. While kissing down your stomach, he asks you, “What do you want me to do?” Just like you did. 
“Anything,” you respond. You don’t care what he does, you just want him to do something. 
Jeongguk shakes his head. “Gotta give me a real answer,” he pulls up a little closer to your face, cupping your swollen bottom lip thanks to all of his work. “Tell me.”
“I,” you start. In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind anything from him. But you feel the length of his fingers, thick and perfect, and you remember your pressing desire of having them inside of you. “I want your fingers,” deciding on that. 
He grins softly at how cute you become when you’re overwhelmed. Jeongguk doesn’t wait around any longer, fingers going to the waistline of your yoga pants and tugging them down slowly. They’re tight, sticking to you like a second skin, so they snag along the meat of your thighs. Jeongguk doesn’t seem to mind as the fabric bunches up into a little ring and you kick it off to a random spot on your floor. 
Cold air meets your soaked underwear, making you cringe at the feeling, totally unaware of the way Jeongguk gapes at the flimsy little thing hugging your hips. He gently traces the band over your pelvis, almost like he’s hesitation. 
You open your mouth, ready to check in to see if Jeongguk still wants to do this for you or not, but before you can, his fingers dip into your panties to feel just how wet you are from him. 
His expression morphs beautifully. “You’re…” he’s speechless at first. Jeongguk’s finger trails up and down your center, barely grazing your sensitive clit. 
A whimper escapes you. His touch is feather light and barely enough yet so much all at once. 
“Fuck,” he groans, hiding his face into crook of your neck, soaking up all of your arousal while his ears and neck get bright red. You’d be embarrassed by the rushing gush coating you even more if Jeongguk’s thumb hadn’t stopped at your clit to draw tight, short, slow circles. 
Such a gentle pace, way less intense than the bullet vibrator you’ve been using, and the pressure builds gradually. One of your hands wind in his hair and the other grips his bicep, openly feeling him up. 
“Fucking soaked,” Jeongguk grits, moving his thumb a little faster. 
Your eyes shut. “Oh J–” interrupted by a shaky noise spilling from your mouth. Jeongguk takes that as a good sign, deciding to torture you even further by moving his lips back to your stiffened nipples and using his tongue to suck and lick at them as if you aren’t already sensitive. 
“You’re pretty too, noona,” Jeongguk says, looking at you this time. Slowly, your eyes peel open to find his big brown irises glimmering at you. “I think you’re beautiful. Always have.” 
You blush immediately. You don’t know why this feels so intensely intimate, like a pan that’s gotten too hot. Is it Jeongguk’s tone, the fact that he’s so close, the way he looks at you to make sure you know and understand him? What is it that has you so stupefied by such a simple comment? 
Boys have called you pretty before, called you much worse too, but you should be used to it. Over the years you’ve started to develop a thick skin but this one gets to you. 
That flutter of butterflies comes back, dancing from the tip of your toes all the way to your head. Jeongguk has seen you grow, from a kid to a pre-teen and now an adult. 
And he still finds you beautiful. Even after every embarrassing phase. 
You begin to smile, cupping his cheeks and leaning down to press a short kiss to his lips, then the corner of his lips, his cheek and his nose, because he deserves it and he’s cute. 
“Thanks,” you mean it, even if the sweet moment cut all of the flourishing beginnings of an orgasm from you and Jeongguk’s fingers halted, out of your underwear and holding your hip instead. 
Jeongguk mirrors your expression. Then he looks down at where his hand is and back up at you, nervously tonguing his cheek. “Can I move now?” 
You nod your head yes quickly after he asks. 
“And…” Jeongguk still looks awkward. You go back to cupping his soft cheeks. “Tell me if I’m doing okay?”
You want to melt in his grip. “Of course, Guk.” Thumb swiping over his cheekbone affectionately. 
Jeongguk takes that as the greenlight and slips his fingers back into your underwear. His gaze is on you, studying your features when his thumb goes back to your clit while his middle finger teases around your opening. You clench, desperate for something to slip inside of you, lifting your hips up in hope that Jeongguk would take the hint and put his fingers inside but he continues collecting your arousal to get his digits wet enough. 
“Jeongguk,” you call tightly, digging your nails into the meat of his shoulders. He hums in response. “I need more.” 
His thumb decides to go faster at your demand but not fast enough and his middle finger still traces your opening instead of slipping inside. 
“More?” He repeats, lilting his voice teasingly. 
Shithead. 
“Yes, more.”  You want to whine, kick your legs even. 
He can feel how wet you’ve gotten, does he not know how much you want this? 
“You want my fingers?” 
“Yes,” you grumble but it sweetens at the end because his thumb starts moving faster over your clit and you feel the waves of pleasure swirling in your stomach, turning into a half-moan. 
Jeongguk angles his hand a little differently and, gently, pushes his middle finger inside you. He groans at the feeling of you. “So tight,” breathing out against your skin. 
You react immediately, throwing your head back. There’s a slight pinch but it's not even the slightest bit painful. The intrusion is welcomed; although small, you need it. Jeongguk’s finger is nice and long and he pistons it out of you with so much care while hitting just the spot. 
“Fuck, right there,” you moan out, turning your face into the soft material of your sheets, eyes rolling back.
Jeongguk slips another finger in and he stops teasing your throbbing bundle of nerves to focus fully on moving his digits, curving them upwards to your walls as you release a symphony of noises. Finding that soft spongy part inside of you and massaging it. 
“F-faster please, please, go faster,” begging him out of the fear that he’ll tease you just like he was doing before. 
But Jeongguk plays fair and fingers you even faster, upping the ante even more by removing his free hand and pressing down on your lower stomach, right before your pelvis. 
And you lose it. 
The pressure from his hand on top, plus the way his fingers are moving, just becomes too much. The  gradual pressure starts accelerating and accelerating until it drops like a rollercoaster and you feel a burst of tingling pleasure rush through your veins and all over your body. 
“I’m cumming!” Crying out, tears pooling inside your eyes streaming down your cheeks as your legs shake with the crashing waves of your orgasm. 
Different than when you do it. As good as your vibrator is, something about it has yet to make you orgasm like this. Heavy, powerful, almost numbing. Waves crash inside you, again and again, cresting at the peak and slowly simmering out into a soft current and then nothing at all. 
Your breath comes out in heavy pants, limbs feeling like jelly, slowly opening your eyes to find Jeongguk staring back at you in bewilderment. His lips are parted but his cheeks aren’t red with embarrassment. If anything, he looks like the complete opposite of that. 
Like he could watch you do that again and again. Something you would gladly agree with. 
Jeongguk takes his fingers out from your underwear, glistening with your arousal, and before you can offer him a napkin, he slips his digits into his mouth and cleans them off. You really begin to question if this man is a virgin or secretly a sex god waiting to be discovered. He’s way better than you were when you were inexperienced. Does he watch a lot of porn?
Or do Taehyung and Jimin just talk about sex around him too much? Must be that. 
“Mmh,” his fingers come out with a soft pop noise, “You taste amazing.” Jeongguk’s clean hand brushes some hair out of your face as he smiles. You lean into his touch like a purring kitten, curling into his chest because your entire body feels weak. 
“You okay?” Jeongguk asks, closing his arms around you. 
Nodding into his chest, “Yeah. Felt really good.” You want to say more but there’s no energy for you to do so. 
“Did it? You looked really hot when,” trailing off, you know what he means, and you press a kiss to his chest. “Kinda want to see it again.” 
That takes your attention. 
Removing the fact that you haven’t been touched in a bit, two orgasms from Jeongguk might put your legs out of commission and that was just with his fingers. You can’t imagine what it would be like with more of him, especially as he learns more about how to pleasure you and gets better. Your poor vibrator might be out of a job. 
“I would love to, but you definitely wore me out.” Pulling your face away, you look up at his perfectly crafted face. “Can we try that another time?” 
Another time, you get giddy even before he agrees. After getting addicted to Jeongguk’s touch, you don’t want to entertain the idea of this being a one time thing. 
“Of course.” And neither does he. 
Jeongguk kisses the top of your head gently, rubbing soothing circles on your back. You tangle your legs with his, inhaling his scent and doing your best not to fall asleep. 
It feels sticky and wet between your legs. You should change and you should get ready for bed. Jeongguk probably wants to go back to his house, right? He probably doesn’t want to stick around your place after what just happened. 
But you think about it and that’s the farthest thing you want. 
Being in his arms, you feel safe and protected, like you drifted off to another dimension where nothing bad has ever happened and you were still the girl you were when you left Busan. Happy and lively. 
You don’t want him to leave you. You don’t want this to be another shitty hookup or one-time thing that makes both of you blush and walk-away. You just want Jeongguk to be in your life. 
So you hold on tight, avoiding his eyes when you ask: “Do you want to stay here with me tonight?”
Please, please, you beg internally. You’ll make breakfast, there’s a pack of toothbrushes under your sink, anything. Just stay. 
And thankfully, Jeongguk responds without wasting another second of your time, putting you at ease once again.  
“Please.”
a/n: okay yes, that was a lot but more smut will come and more angst will follow!
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jiminrings · 2 years
Text
four seven eight (3)
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pairing: jungkook x reader
wordcount: 11k
glimpse: now that your month-long break’s over, you’re supposed to come home to jungkook at eight in the morning, right before he wakes up — it’s been two hours now, why are you still not home?
alternatively, jungkook will fight with you even if it’s the last thing he’ll do.
[ part one + intermission + part two + intermission 02 + finale ]
[ fluff, full-fledged redemption arc I Swear, some angst, jealous jk, so much longing, references to anxiety, suggestive themes n flirting, everything gets sorted out, based on the moral dilemma of whether or not it’s okay to be friends with ur ex ]
notes: it’s the finale now can u believe :O thank u for staying tuned for the past two weeks — i sincerely cherish each one of u who’s ever interacted with 478 and took the time to be with me throughout the whole thing!! i’ll be taking a lil break this summer btw see u on the next fic <3
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :) | series masterlist
The mornings are too long for Jungkook.
They’ve been too long since your break started, dragging out endlessly that he’s just started to close the curtains to not be reminded that the sunset’s still hours away before it fades into night. Mornings were too bright; too intimate to be spent by himself. When you leave for work, you already leave before sunrise, but that’s still morning in your husband’s head.
Jungkook misses his mornings with you.
He misses the mornings where it’s still dark out and he’s been asleep enough for long that he could make out your figure in the dark, either buried to his arm or to his pillow despite the huge expanse of your bed. Mornings nowadays were only reminders for him that he didn’t overthink nor cry himself to the point of passing out from the night before.
He longs for the mornings where his alarm rings before yours and he fumbles to get up immediately, actually excited to wake up for the day. The routine starts with him kissing you on the cheek as silently as he could before replacing himself with a pillow so you could still embrace something while you’re asleep, navigating the dark without turning the lights on so you wouldn’t wake up. The next thing he does is prepare you your breakfast, and if you want to savor in all your sleep and just squeeze in a quick shower, he’s just as ready to pack your meal for you to eat on the go.
The evenings are just as hard but they’re not as long as mornings. If Jungkook spends his nights regretting, then he spends his mornings longing. Reliving his guilt is just as draining the way Jungkook feels like his stomach’s sinking to the floor, but especially during evenings, the guilt is what reminds him that he’s learning. 
Longing feels way worse.
Longing feels worse especially during mornings because unlike guilt, it’s formless. It’s fluid enough that it doesn’t make Jungkook cry point-blank nor feel the urge to smack himself in the head for being stupid. It’s listless and repetitive, sneaking into every thought he could form during sunlight. It’s worse than guilt because unlike the bile that rises to his throat, longing is the absence of it. His yearning is what reminds him of who he’s missing.
Even the cat knows who’s missing.
“Miso,” Jungkook hums to your pet that’s the only one who’s been keeping him company these days, the chunky mass of fur not exactly having a choice. 
She’s gotten warmer to him when usually her kindness would only be reserved for you. The more bitchy, devious side of her rescinding from the amount of undivided attention Jungkook gives her now. He’s been teaching her tricks — practical, useful tricks.
“If you ever see this man with mommy,” Jungkook hums, showing Miso a picture of Yoongi on his phone. He interrupts himself with a thought, smiling to why he didn’t think of the correction earlier. “Or y’know what? Even if you just see this man, I need you to scratch him, okay?”
Jungkook scratches her chin to get her to look at him, repeating his words again while humming to retain the information on her tiny brain. Mornings are more survivable this way, even if he’s spent the entirety of the past week’s mornings teaching Miso tricks. So far, she knows how to sit, roll around, and jump kick the door to close it.
Hopefully, she also learns the petty trick of hunting Yoongi in the event that she sees him.
Jungkook hums in satisfaction while he gets Miso’s toy, seeing her ears twitch in anticipation. He establishes your co-star’s name (he’s too caught up to even acknowledge him as your friend) to her so not only would she know what he looks like, but also know who is he. “Here, Miso. Practice on this. Pretend that this rat is Yoongi.”
The thought that crosses Jungkook’s mind recently these days is that he doesn’t even know what exactly to feel about Yoongi. He knows him, sure, but only in the same degree that he vaguely knows everyone his wife’s associated to somehow. He knew of him both as an actor and as your acquaintance back then, but just like with everyone else, Jungkook didn’t ask about him. He didn’t ask you all that much about him because there’s no reason to, his trust paramount enough that he didn’t even consider the possibility that Yoongi had a thing for you. 
Maybe it’s his fault, Jungkook thinks. Maybe it’s no one’s fault at all because to think of it, he can’t blame Yoongi either. 
You’re lovable. Extremely and undoubtedly lovable wherever you go, but the thing is, it isn’t your fault either. Jungkook thinks that perhaps you don’t even know just how admirable you are, the realization sinking into him sometimes that out of all people, it’s him whom you love.
Yoongi’s undeserving of his anger but Jungkook doesn’t know where else to put it, the abundance of it overflowing on himself that even if he knows how wrong it is, he pins it to your friend for the meantime.
In the same vein, Sora’s undeserving of your anger too. She isn’t responsible for any of your insecurities because in the first place, she didn’t even know about the concept of you initially. 
Even though both Sora and Yoongi are pillars of your past, the latter continues to be in your present and it’s something Jungkook has to learn to grow accustomed to. Sora’s an ex, Yoongi isn’t. He’s harmless as an almost-your-lover could come, being your best friend at the most with no malice behind his warmth. He’s not responsible either for Jungkook’s insecurities — at the end of the day, it boils down between you and your husband.
You quickly realize that your month apart with Jungkook shouldn’t only remain stagnant. He’s trying and so should you, his pride nowhere to be found nowadays that it’s slightly painful to watch. You’re not devoid of faults entirely, the need to make things right with him from your side of the plate becoming more and more apparent each day.
You’re not even one full ring in until Jungkook immediately answers, his habit of keeping his phone with him at all times paying off now that you called him first.
“Hey, Jungkook,” you hum, trying to swallow down your nervousness. You’re stalling with conversation but he doesn’t need to know that. “Are you free this weekend? It’s the last day of renovation at the shop and my parents want us there.”
“Of course I’m free,” Jungkook answers instantly, furrowing his brows in confusion. He doesn’t even know why you’re asking at this point, the both of you knowing he hasn’t denied the offer once. “I’m a househusband, y’know? Your husband. Why wouldn’t I be there?”
He’s not hurt at your doubt for him but what he feels is close enough, akin to the confusion of why you’re silent.
“Dunno,” you clear your throat, playing with the fraying ends of your throw blanket that you’ve been anxiously taking apart since you started staying in your house. “Thought you were busy.”
“I’m busy missing you if that wasn’t established enough.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll meet you there,” your throat clears at your husband’s deadpanning, sensing that he’s not playing around at the moment with his moment. 
Jungkook sighs, letting go of the hurt that comes with your unsureness of his presence just seconds ago. He speaks more lightly this time, a chuckle leaving him. “Should I tell them you slept in? Or do I think of another excuse why we aren’t coming together in one car?”
“Just surprise me, I’ll act along with it,” you sigh in relief at the absence of hostility, rubbing your eyes in thought.
You think of how it would go — if Jungkook’s eyes would light up again once you enter the shop, or if he would kiss your cheek again to greet you in front of your parents. You wonder if he’ll hold you again this time, slinging a warm hand on your waist that’ll make you instinctively lean into him.
Jungkook wonders how he’ll approach you this time — if your eyes would widen when he kisses your cheek tenderly, or if you would notice how he breathes in your perfume that lingers in your hair. He wonders if you’ll reciprocate his affection and put a hand on his waist, enough to make a man like him soften in your hold.
Suddenly, Jungkook doesn’t mind that much anymore that the two of you would come to the shop separately, all if it would mean that he’d get to hold you again just like last time.
There’s a silence that lingers, one that’s peaceful for Jungkook yet loaded for you. You’re deflecting without even trying to, clearing your throat to get rid of the lump that comes with the urge to say what you really needed to. “Also, my parents want Miso to be there too. Do you think you can take her with you? What’s she up to?”
Your parents do miss Miso but not to the point that they’ve outright asked if you could take her with you, hoping that your impromptu plan of dragging their name along for the sake of making conversation with Jungkook doesn’t bite you in the ass later on.
“I can take her, no problem. She’s gotten close to me,” Jungkook hums, getting a loud meow right on time when she returns the toy rat to his palm and you pick up on it.
“Is that her? What’s she doing now?”
“Nothing much, I’m just teaching her how to hunt.”
“But cats already are hunters.”
“Yeah, but I’m teaching her how to hunt a specific person,” Jungkook mumbles in the same time your courage finally gets filled to the brim in your head, the go signal loudly beeping to make you cut to the chase.
“Jungkook, I need to tell you-” your focus is momentarily interrupted, his words belatedly sinking into your head. “Did you just say person?”
“Nothing. I said nothing. What were you going to say?”
Jungkook dismisses your worries even if what he said only slightly bothered you, eagerly waiting for your words. You wait for yourself even with bated breath, wanting to get this over with.
You count to three in your head, screwing your eyes shut. Now wasn’t the time to deflect; not the time for your roles with Jungkook to switch because you could feel that you were being passive while he was being proactive. If Jungkook’s trying, then you need to try too.
“I just wanted to tell you about the episode that’s dropping tomorrow,” you finally say, tugging harshly at a particular thread that it digs into your fingers. “Yoongi and I kiss.”
It’s normal. You’re no stranger to kissing scenes considering that it’s a part of your job. You’ve done it as a minor character already, even when you and Jungkook were still dating and not yet married. You tell him about your acting scenes in passing, especially some that required you to be affectionate and intimate to a certain degree.
Jungkook understands, he should understand. Acting’s your passion and your actual job, one that kept you going. He’s merely a husband at home who’s unconnected to your job and therefore should understand that sometimes, his wife needs to kiss someone else who isn’t him.
He knows he needs to understand that this time, you needed to kiss Yoongi, someone who was almost your lover; yet you don’t know of at the moment. He should grasp that his wife has a drama episode where she kisses Yoongi, one whom she’s linked to in a dating scandal.
Jungkook tries his best to understand but his comprehension doesn’t equate to ease, feeling the burn in his throat when he asks you.
“How many times?” he asks meekly, gnawing on his bottom lip and ignoring Miso for the meantime, the cat concerned because her owner simply just froze into the couch. “How many times do you need to kiss in the episode? In the whole series?”
“We haven’t wrapped up filming for the drama,” you admit, looking down on your lap in unease even if you can’t feel Jungkook’s eyes on you. “But this episode? I have uhm — Yoongi and I have four scenes.”
“And how many takes did it need?” Jungkook asks next, distancing the phone from him a little so you wouldn’t hear his heavy exhales. “It’s a drama, right? Surely there’s a hundred angles and rewinds on one kiss alone.”
He doesn’t know why he’s asking. He doesn’t know if he’s committing penance from wanting to know how many times his wife had to kiss her onscreen partner. He still asks even if he knows that whatever answer you’d give him, it would still sting. “Ten? More than ten?”
“I didn’t count, Jungkook,” you answer truthfully, rubbing your temple.
“Was it too many to count then?”
His retort comes out a little piqued, a little too sharp that it makes you sigh. Jungkook reminds himself to calm down and not think about you kissing Yoongi at all. To not think about you kissing and least of all, loving someone who isn’t him.
“Sorry. Thanks for giving me a heads-up,” he apologizes, the discomfort in his stomach slowly rising that he can’t stay seated. “Miso’s... Miso needs food now. She won’t stop meowing.”
There’s no meows at all. No urgent pawing from her that signified she wanted her food bowl to be filled.
The two of you both know that he just needs a little time; a little time to try and breathe. Jungkook urgently needs to get his mind off that he rushingly ends the call, not even waiting for a reply. “Thank you. Bye. I love you.”
Four seconds. Breathe in through your nose.
Seven seconds. Hold it.
Eight seconds. Exhale through your mouth.
He doesn’t know what to do, seeing you and Yoongi be intimate. He’s watched every episode of the drama so far and he could still swallow your dialogue with his character. He chuckles at the banter when you cuss him out. He smiles when the cinematography captures you the way his eyes do, through the lens of someone who loves you deeply.
He doesn’t know what he’d feel seeing you, along with a lot more people at this case, kiss Yoongi. He doesn’t know what to feel knowing that just like the vast majority of people and fans outside of your closest and most trusted family and friends, nobody knows that he’s your husband.
It’s hurtful but it’s needed, a reminder he engraves in his brain because this is what he initially thought he wanted for himself. Nowadays, he wants nothing more than everyone to know that he’s yours.
Jungkook reminds himself to breathe.
( ♡ )
All the lights are turned on. 
All the lights are turned on along with every other single discomfort Jungkook could think of that would take away the intimacy when tonight’s episode drops.
He gave Miso the loudest and most annoying toy she could ever play with, the tinkling of the bell inside the bouncy ball ringing almost every minute. He took a shower and barely dried off his hair, the ends of it still dripping wet to the cushions of the couch. Jungkook orchestrates everything to be at unease so he’d be distracted when the real unease comes, the tiny little inconveniences hopefully enough to cancel out what he’ll be seeing later.
“Can you stay on the call with me? I need you to tell me when it starts and when it ends,” Jungkook mumbles to his phone, the volume on loudspeaker so it would disrupt him too.
“You could just not watch the episode,” you sigh, offering the simplest and most effective solution to his current problem. You don’t even know why he’d willingly put himself through this, aware that the kissing scenes would do nothing to alleviate the matters of his heart and mind.
Jungkook snickers under his breath, dragging out his exhale when he explains his dilemma. He didn’t want to be selfish, unable to forego watching the episode just because he’s throwing a hissy fit over his wife’s job.
“I watch every episode to support you, though. Not everyone could say their wife’s on TV.”
Somehow, you get it. You could grasp Jungkook’s eagerness to support you by watching you do what you love most, and in the same time comprehend his aversion that doing what you love most somehow entails landing your commitment to kiss Yoongi.
You get it, you try your best to understand where Jungkook’s coming from but at this point, you’re merely a bystander to his worries. Neither are you there nor capable enough to do something about it. 
“I’m sorry, Jungkook. But I can’t — I can’t do anything about it, y’know? This is work,” you emphasize, hoping that the reminder of your job atleast helps the webbing that’s in his mind. “I can’t think of any romantic drama that doesn’t have a kissing scene in it.”
There’s the sinking feeling again in Jungkook’s stomach, one that tells him he’s asking too much from you despite barely verbalizing it at all. He feels selfish to the point that he’s even called you tonight even if he didn’t ask beforehand if it was okay, the reminder present that the two of you are on a break for a reason.
You don’t see him now but you could only imagine the conflict that manifests in his downturned lips, eyes beady and remaining shut while he tries to regain his bearings.
“Do you want me to turn on my video? So you could see me, if it helps,” you offer gently, not wanting to get ahead of yourself in the event that Jungkook can’t even stomach looking at you.
“It’ll help,” Jungkook instantly answers, shoulders slacking in relief when he sees you on his phone. He lets himself smily briefly, turning on his own video once he sees you settled in. He sets his phone (or rather you) on the coffee table, the angle turned upwards so you could see him resting into the couch.
If you notice the way that overhead lighting’s used instead of ambient lighting, despite the disuse of the latter gives him a headache, you don’t comment on it.
You don’t ask why Jungkook’s hair is sopping wet and why he’s wearing a hoodie that he hates because it made him itch and sweat. There’s no acknowledgement to why he’s wearing his old glasses instead of his new ones, because the ones he’s wearing at the moment are clunky and has an outdated prescription. 
In some odd reversal, you’ve become Jungkook during your break with him. You’re observant but you don’t act on it. You listen but you’re silent. You continue to notice everything and process it by yourself instead of doing the easier way of addressing him.
Jungkook’s become more like you — a little more talkative. He’s more obvious and readable nowadays, not one thought going unspoken. He comments continuously, babbling while the episode starts.
He giggles through the funny scenes and comments how you’d say something exactly like your character would in real life, absorbed into the show that he doesn’t even know you’re only looking at him.
You see every smile that forms in his face whenever you come into the frame, eyes twinkling when he sees that smile mirrored on the screen as if you could see him while you were filming the episode and knew he’d be watching. 
The video’s clear and although not comparable to what you’d see if you were face to face, you could see every detail and every thought that passes through your husband’s visage. You see the way his lips would purse whenever Yoongi’s character pursues you, mind going a little blank when he sees him reaching out for either your hand or your waist.
You see Jungkook through the first of it, when you hear the familiar score leading up to the first kissing scene of the episode and the entire series for that matter. He was on alert the whole time, but nothing could ever prepare him into seeing you look so deeply into Yoongi as if you’ve known him your whole life.
Nothing could prepare Jungkook into seeing Yoongi smile gently, securing his hand on your cheek when you giggle upon looking at him.
The musical score doesn’t help in the background because it’s of bells and a gentle uprising of the piano, the peak of it powerful enough that it convinces everyone watching that oh — this is probably what love looks like. You and Yoongi on the screen must be perfect enough to convince everyone who’s watching, and even Jungkook for a split second, that your love is what love should look like.
Jungkook’s unprepared when he sees you close your eyes the moment Yoongi leans into you gently, no resistance at all to the love that he gives. Yoongi’s portraying love, he must be, Jungkook thinks. Yoongi’s doing it so well that even he, your husband, is momentarily convinced that Yoongi knows how to love you the most from a kiss alone.
You see everything. You see Jungkook squirm when you press your lips harder to Yoongi’s to reciprocate his kiss, tilting your head to complement his movements so he could kiss you deeper. You see him anxiously play with his wedding band when the camera pans to your ring-less hand gently stroking Yoongi’s nape, your on-screen partner’s hand straying to the small of your back warmly.
There’s no prepared unease that could ever orient Jungkook because seeing you with Yoongi, someone who isn’t him, brings him the greatest discomfort of all. It’s heavy on his body, the trepidation crawling from the base of his skull all the way to the tips of his toes.
It eventually ends, yet it was only the first of four in the episode. The first of the many indefinite kisses he’s yet to see in the entirety of the series.
“Jungkook.”
Your voice is what snaps him out of his reverie, rapidly blinking and genuinely confused when he feels that his cheeks are warm from all the tears he’s been unconsciously shedding throughout the scene.
“Yeah?” his voice croaks, reflecting the sinking feeling that ponders on his ribs.
“I love you.”
You say it gently, the first you’ve ever uttered for almost a whole month of not doing so. You didn’t plan on it and yet it’s already escaped you, unwilling to take it back either because it’s the truth.
“I love you more,” Jungkook smiles, genuine despite being tight-lipped because if he were to smile bigger, the tears would just pour.
“Please don’t cry,” you request, albeit weakly because you can’t find the fight in your voice. It’s unavoidable for him.
“I can’t help it,” Jungkook truthfully says, playing with his wedding band before the thought crosses his mind of what he’s been meaning to say. “I need to tell you something this weekend, by the way.”
“Can’t you say it now?” you hum, growing curious.
“Not really, it’d be better if I say it to you in person.” 
Jungkook rewinds his memory of learning from Jimin that Yoongi was so close to being the love of your life, narrowly being beaten by a day. It still hasn’t sunk in completely that it makes Jungkook snicker at thought, having to shake his head to try and get rid of it. “Just thinking about it makes me want to run into oncoming traffic.”
“Is it that bad?” you chuckle, figuring the extent of it now that Jungkook’s joking about it but simultaneously looks devastated.
“For me, yeah,” he answers without a doubt, trailing when he tries to consider your side. He’s not sure, the uncertainty of your reaction almost winding him breathless. “For you… I don’t know.”
Jungkook’s trying to tell you everything and so would you, attempting to bare it all no matter the initial unease it brings. 
“I wanted to say something to you too,” you clear your throat, rethinking the night at the club that Yoongi admitted he has a crush on you.
“Is it worse than what I have to say?” Jungkook chuckles, looking at the screen with a hope you can’t distinguish.
“I can’t tell either.”
Jungkook nods but it’s apparent that neither of you could leave the conversation at that, a little antsy to know something yet not everything at this time of night.
“How about we say a keyword each?” he pipes in, the suggestion being more than welcome. “That way, we’re not entirely clueless before we see each other this weekend.”
“That could work,” you try to say nonchalantly, attempting to disguise your curiosity into relaxation yet you can’t do it anyway. “One, two, three.”
“Yoongi.”
“Yoongi.”
“That fucking guy,” Jungkook humorlessly chuckles, shaking his head once it sinks into him that Yoongi happens to be the common denominator of the things you wanted to admit to each other. It’s not lost on him that Yoongi just happens to be a variable, but the more irrational part of his brain is what makes him angry at the guy.
“We have different things to say that somehow involves Yoongi too, hm?” you ask despite knowing the answer, seeing your husband suck in a harsh inhale.
“Yeah, unfortunately,” he breathes out, rolling his eyes when his face appears in his sight for a second. “Yoongi that fucking rat.”
Jungkook utters your friend’s name with such venom that it wakes Miso up, the ball of fluff previously asleep in the corner of the living room yet came to life as soon as she heard rat and Yoongi in the same sentence.
Miso suddenly speeds into the couch on high alert, tail puffed up as she runs and sits next to Jungkook, obviously in a panic and on the lookout. It happens so fast that your husband barely even registers it until you ask in a hurry.
“Why’s Miso angry?”
The realization clicks in Jungkook’s head soon enough, the moment becoming the peak of the lessons he’s taught the cat every morning for the past week. “I taught her. Watch.”
“Miso,” Jungkook drawls, scratching her chin before pointing to the screen. “Who’s that? Isn’t that Yoongi?”
Like clockwork, Miso leaps to the TV from a sprint and bounces off of it, the force enough to rock it backwards but not enough to take it out of its mount, thankfully not shattering the screen. Jungkook’s caught it in video, the back camera capturing his proud moment as a (cat)dad.
“Jungkook!” you yelp when you look at the TV, the video once again returning to his face because he realizes now that you don’t need to look at the exact aftermath of Miso’s party trick. “What did you teach our cat?”
“I taught her how to hunt,” he huffs as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “Don’t look at me like that. I have to cope somehow,” he adds, “plus you know Miso. She doesn’t really engage with things she isn’t passionate about.”
It’s true; just like the twenty toys you buy but two of them only stick. When you bought her a cat tower, the box that it came with is what she became fixated on. Even getting used to the baby blue floor couch was a struggle because at the first month of the furniture inhabiting your living room, Miso used to hiss at it simply because she hated it. She became passionate about it soon enough when she figured that the stream of sunlight is perfect for her midday naps.
“What’s that, Miso?” Jungkook gasps now that Miso’s back to him, sat on his lap as she tilts her head on you curiously at the screen. He lends her his ear and just in time does she peer at Jungkook, making it seem like they were gossiping; the sight’s too warm you can’t help but to screenshot. “You don’t like mommy kissing other guys?”
The sudden skit that unfolds catches you off-guard, warranting a surprised cackle from your lips that makes Jungkook crack up.
“That kissing scene alone can buy you five years’ worth of cat food, Miso.”
“What was that, baby?” Jungkook gasps once again, brows furrowed as he stares down Miso who’s definitely not talking. “You’d rather starve than see mommy kissing that guy again?!”
“Miso’s new trick is to talk?” you pipe in when Jungkook doesn’t let the act go, tilting your head. You playfully chuckle, raising your eyebrows at him. “Are you jealous? Is that it?” 
“Amongst other deprecating things, believe me,” he mumbles, resorting to cradling Miso in his arms like a baby. “I just admitted to teaching our cat to attack Yoongi on command. I’m not exactly hiding that I’m jealous.”
“Jungkook,” you hum with the intention of reminding him something, the switch of tone evident that it makes him alert.
“Yeah, baby?” he sighs, running his hand through his hair while he looks at you.
It’s not lost on you that Jungkook called you an endearment other than your name, and yet you try to swallow down your reaction, a tight-lipped smile replacing your previous laugh.
“You just sat through all four kissing scenes. That was the last of the episode.”
His eyes widen because he forgot that the episode was ongoing in the first place, gaze flitting to the screen as he realizes that true enough, the credits are even bound to roll soon. “Oh.”
The silence comes back and as much as you want to linger, you will yourself not to. “I’ll end the call here, alright?”
“Thank you,” Jungkook says, a grateful smile on his lips that you stayed throughout. “I love you,” he reminds. “I mean it.”
All you could give is a timid smile before you drop the call, sighing when you bury your face to the couch; your massive gray couch that is not the baby blue floor couch you have at home.
Jungkook doesn’t need to say the words but he does anyway, reminding you just how sincere he is when he says that he love you. He means it; you’ve always known. “I know you do.”
( ♡ )
The days leading to the end of the break are easier.
They’re easier in the sense that Jungkook can sleep for minutes at a time at night, granted if he had any sort of interaction with you that day. The days are easier as they pass but Jungkook doesn’t grow complacent, putting in the work whenever he could.
You’re positively confused (and a little worried) when you receive an email from Jungkook, a meeting link attached that starts at the exact moment he’s sent you it. You think for a second that he’s hacked because he barely even opens his email, but the signature of <3 jungkook at the bottom tells you that funnily enough, it is your husband.
You indulge him, even if you’re five minutes late from the time it took to fetch your laptop from your bedroom. Jungkook was starting to think you weren’t even gonna show but by the time you enter the meeting room, he’s the one who’s surprised by your sudden barrage of questions.
“You emailed me a link,” your brows furrow. “Is your phone not working? Should I buy you a new one?” you think out-loud but reel yourself in once you see Jungkook patiently waiting for his chance to speak. “I’m not opposed to talking to you virtually, Jungkook. Just… why a Zoom link?”
Jungkook never thought you’d ask, shrugging when you lead him right where he needs you to be. He says it like it’s obvious, as if you’ve been doing this everyday since you got married.
“Because we’re in a meeting,” he trails, retaining his gaze on the screen while he tries to discreetly prepare his slides in the background. “I’m presenting.”
You can’t be any more confused than you are now, having just gotten home from work at ten in the evening. You haven’t even showered yet, too puzzled with Jungkook emailing you that you couldn’t pas it up. “What? Presenting what?”
Once again, you give Jungkook the perfect opening because as soon as the last word leaves your mouth, the screen changes.
It’s a presentation with a very familiar color scheme, big bold letters right at the middle entitled “Why You Should Let Mr. Jeon Win This Time” —  the same animation for the text beyond recognizable. The subtext reads as “I’m still very sorry” — the background of the presentation being the very two things you’ve used this presentation for; the baby blue floor couch, and the third-biggest variation of a king-sized bed.
A laugh leaves you even before you could conceal it, the surprise in your face evident with the way you’re covering your face. Jungkook himself laughs at your reaction, a welcome feeling now that he gets to try giving you a presentation of his own.
“Stealing from my book now, hm?” you hum, wiping the stray tears out of your eyes. “Be honest, you love the couch. You love the bed too!”
It’s a welcome moment; a needed moment between the two of you. Not everything’s fixed but you’re getting there with small baby steps, each one clearing out the miscommunication and lapses of judgement that landed the two of you here in the first place; even if it’s one presentation at a time.
“With you in it, duh. The couch is a nightmare to clean,” Jungkook groans, resting his face on his hand as he could see you happy by your tiny icon, the presentation he’s spent the entirety of last night over taking up his whole screen. “I need you in my bed to enjoy it.”
It’s perhaps a welcome moment too; perhaps not extremely vital to the situation, but still welcome nonetheless.
“I didn’t mean-“ Jungkook’s cheeks flush, pursing his lips to think of what excuse he could say for himself. He racks his brain for a second now that the two of you are just staring at each other from his accidental innuendo, ultimately concluding that there’s nothing. “Okay, fuck it. I do mean it in that way too.”
The unabashed admission is what gets you, an easy chuckle being squeezed out of you as you try to retain your eye contact with Jungkook who’s apparently very passionate in explaining.
“Once you come home, I’m gonna,” Jungkook grunts, his two hands up as he grasps the air and squeezes. “I’m really just gonna-…”
Your laugh is what reminds him that you’re still there, looking at him directly while he makes a fool out of himself by vaguely detailing just about what he means when you come home.
“You’re gonna what, babe?” you hum playfully, the endearment slipping right out of you. You realize belatedly but neither of you comment on it, letting the term linger in the air.
Jungkook’s the one who’s caught off-guard now, at a loss for words while he resorts to rolling his eyes playfully.
“You’ll see.”
Your husband jumps from one slide to another, taking his sweet time in explaining and expounding each one. There’s no script at all, obvious from the way he stutters and laughs between words.
The moment doesn’t last forever but it’s welcome, all the while worth it because by the time Jungkook reaches the last slide, the two of you feel considerably lighter than before.
“Our break ends one week from now,” Jungkook reminds you when your laughs die down, cheeks still a little pink from catching his breath from all the talking that he had to do.
You look a little more somber now, still admirable despite the exhaustion (and relief) you’ve went through today. 
“Come home to me, okay? Come home to me before I wake up.”
“You don’t sleep, though.” It’s your turn to remind him, voice more gentle than before.
“Yes I do,” he weakly argues, but there’s no point in telling the white lie.
“Okay no, not really. But since you’ve been calling me, I could doze for thirty minutes at a time.” 
It’s the first time you’ve heard of Jungkook’s improvement in sleeping without you, unsurprised that the genuine happiness in your features already translates to your husband who preens at your reaction.
“You’ve been gone for so long, do you even remember what time I wake up?” he asks harmlessly, no malice to his tone when he brings it up.
“When I’m with you, you wake up thirty minutes before I leave,” you squint in thought, sure of your answer because it’s a routine that’s stuck for quite some time.
“And when I’m not there-” you start yet you don’t know how to finish, eyes suddenly going blank because there’s no answer that comes to mind. “I don’t know.”
You try not to dwell about your lack for an answer — the reason either being you forgetting it or you not knowing at all. Nonetheless, you try to rectify your lack for an answer by immediately asking.
“What time do you wake — no, you don’t sleep. What time do you get out of bed when I’m not there?”
“Eight,” Jungkook answers. “I get out of bed at eight in the morning when you’re not there.”
He sees you take note of it in your head, your lips mumbling the time to yourself to internalize it without having to write it down.
“I’ll sleep the night before, I promise. I’ll sleep the entire night,” he adds if it means he could lessen your load of worry that you carry with you, trying to find more ways in sharing your burdens that concern him one way or another.
You nod, inarguably feeling lighter. 
“Okay.”
( ♡ )
Your parents don’t suspect a thing.
They don’t suspect a thing between you and Jungkook despite knowing the two of you, most especially you, very well. They didn’t think twice about the two of you arriving to the shop in your own cars because just like last time, Jungkook arrives earlier than you and explains why his wife, their daughter, is late.
There isn’t anything questionable about it. You being busy is clockwork by now and Jungkook being the filial son-in-law isn’t anything new.
What is new to them is Jungkook being a little more talkative.
It’s not as if he’s never talked to them when you aren’t by his side, but something was just different to the way he carries himself now. His shoulders are still relaxed but his hands don’t tuck themselves into his pockets, his fingers instead pointing around to ask them about something.
Jungkook seems more present in a way that you almost miss it. Your parents can’t pinpoint what it is exactly but if Jungkook was warm before, then he’s become even warmer now.
He talks more; more attentive as he notices your mother’s new earrings. He’s always figured that she has a penchant for changing up her jewelry but it’s only now that he comments on it, complimenting the dangling charms on her ears that makes her blush.
He laughs more, your father figures. Jungkook outsizes him in height but when he laughs, his shoulders hunch and his face scrunches brightly that they’re almost the same height. He jokes more with your dad nowadays, their banter and shoulder jabs more apparent that it would seem like he’s his actual child.
They just can’t put a finger on it because as much as Jungkook’s always been kind and warm, there’s something about him now that makes him shine a little brighter.
“Hi, baby,” Jungkook greets you the moment you enter the shop, wasting no time in slinging an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. He moves like he’s never seen you before, in fact meeting you by the door before you could even take two steps in and go about what he’s been yearning to do since last week.
“There you are,” he hums, smiling so hard that his eyes crescent when you roll your eyes before returning the kiss to his cheek. He lets his arm wrap around your shoulders, taking you closer to him. “You just really had the urge to deep-clean your couch at four in the morning, huh?”
The half-scoff that leaves your lips is more playful than it is offended, shaking your head when you play along. “Mhmm. Our couch, of course. I love that couch,” you exclaim, finally taking your eyes off him to acknowledge your parents who are watching your interaction unfold. “Takes you longer to clean and exhausts you more when your husband doesn’t help clean it.”
“Oh so now we’re just straight-up lying,” he hums, laughing before letting you go so you could hug your parents.
Your mom and dad can finally put a finger on it now — Jungkook’s just in love. He’s even more in love with you than the last time, the realization fitting just perfectly to the twinkle behind your husband’s eyes.
The shop hasn’t felt this warm to you until now.
Somehow, it’s even warmer than the times you’ve spent your childhood birthdays in here, perched on the counter with a different cake each time. Today’s warmer than that time before when you were excited to take your portraits to commemorate your coming-of-age, eager to brag to your family and friends. It’s warmer than when you came into the shop to announce you received your very first callback in your career; unable to wait for it to close that you ended up yelling the news the moment you came in, and despite not knowing anything besides that you were the daughter of the owners of the shop, everyone else cheered with you.
Now is warmer than the past. Now is warmer with Jungkook. 
It helps that your hearts are somehow lighter now because the last time the both of you were at the shop, it was merely the 15th day of your break — and here you are, undoubtedly blithe and easier together on the 28th day.
It’s a foundation that grows solid day by day, the space you’ve established giving more leeway for the two of you to grow and occupy it altogether once more when all faults are recognized.
You and Jungkook work through the motions of completing the renovation, teaming yourselves up with only small talk about the task at hand. The urge to talk to you quite literally shows in the way Jungkook’s eager to finish earlier, his keenness making you smile while you take your time.
It’s only after sunset when everything’s finished; when the second coats of paint are all fully-dried and the shelves are built, when all the furniture’s arranged and Jungkook’s successfully picked up every time-consuming task in the shop to wrap it up earlier.
Jungkook’s body physically burns from the labor but he’s not weary just yet, tugging you to the empty breakroom to catch his breath and finally talk.
“Can I go first?” you ask when Jungkook finally looks like he could blink without seeing darkness at the corners of his eyes, making him drink from your own cup.
Your husband nods eagerly, sitting himself closer to you on the floor because the two of you were too afraid to sit on the new sofa in fear of dirtying it.
It’s quiet like this; with the doors closed and no TV present to provide white noise, no Miso either who’d fill up the space with her presence. This moment alone with Jungkook is what reminds you that it’s been far too long since the two of you have gotten this intimate; this close to each other and this willing to talk.
The two of you are together now simply because you are; no longer in the context of you coming home late at night because of work, too tired to initiate conversation.
“When Yoongi and I were in the club, he admitted that he had a crush on me,” you start as gently as you could, thankful that you’re sitting beside Jungkook and not opposite of him so you wouldn’t feel obligated to look at him. “Had a crush on me back then when we were young, and he has a crush on me now.”
You don’t look at Jungkook because you don’t want to see him upset, but it’s only inevitable that you look at his hurt for you to understand his side completely. It’s not exactly an everyday occurrence to know that your wife’s co-worker, one whom she has to see practically everyday for months, has a crush on her.
“But I told him I was married and he understands, he’s not getting between us or anything like that,” you’re quick to amend, but not in the tone that you’re making it seem you’re on Yoongi’s side. “He told me just a few days ago that the crush he has now is nothing serious, by the way. It’s just the admiration from afar thing.”
Jungkook’s still silent but maybe it’s only like that in your head because you’re still gathering the courage to look at him, only doing so when he squeezes your knee.
“I just wanted to tell you that. It’d be wrong for me not to,” you say truthfully, unable to digest the guilt if you do otherwise. “I’m sorry. I never really got to apologize to you about the Yoongi thing.”
You’re not devoid of faults — you never are and never will be. 
“I know this whole dating scandal is hard on you too. Especially Jimin’s plan of not doing anything about it at all,” you chuckle, trying to grasp what you’d feel like if it’s Jungkook who was the celebrity and not you.
The scandals weren’t dying down, in fact they were only getting bigger in number given the new episodes, all of where Yoongi and you kissed and were significantly more affectionate. The two of you haven’t met outside since the article was released, meaning that anything from that point forward is purely made-up.
Jungkook won’t deny that he searches your name and Yoongi’s these days, scrolling through countless of comments. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s doing it either but after every scroll that just unknowingly adds to his own insecurity, Jungkook figures that his trust in you never faltered.
“It’s okay. I’m not upset over it,” your husband admits, having had the time to reevaluate all his initial anger over Yoongi when he saw the two of you at the club. “If I knew from someone else that you met up with your ex, I think I’d get a drink with an old friend too.” 
He puts things into perspective and the way he does it relieve you of all your residual guilt, realizing now that although not the best option, your response was only rational; a little confusing and a little flawed, sure, but never malicious.
“I don’t have an ex.” 
You smile in reminder that it makes Jungkook do the same, his intake of breath turning a little sharper when he realizes that you’re done with your side.
“It’s my turn to tell you then.”
This time it’s you who eagerly nods, oddly seeing yourself in Jungkook’s actions when he looks down the floor instead of you, a little nervous in saying the truth.
“Yoongi was supposed to ask you out back then.”
Jungkook says it as casually as he could, to not make it seem as serious as it actually was. He doesn’t know if he executed the bit perfectly but it warrants a reaction from you anyway, eyes widened in genuine surprise.
“What? I didn’t know that.”
“I know. Jimin slipped about it,” Jungkook continues. “He brought it up casually because he told me that Yoongi told him, then he thought I knew about it because he assumed the two of us were friends.”
“When did you and Jimin even talk?” your eyes narrow in confusion. The last time you checked, Jimin was close to you (and Jungkook by extension) enough to attend your wedding, but not close enough for him and Jungkook to sustain a conversation by themselves.
“How were your meals?” Jungkook grins, dimples in full display while he watches the gears in your head turn. “Did they taste good? I hope they were still hot when you got them.”
“My meals? What — no,” you gasp when you realize, knowing that your suspicion over catering cooking your every favorite meal was too good to be true. “You were the one who made them?”
“Mhmm,” Jungkook proudly hums, feeling a burst of your pride when you lean your head on his shoulder giddily. “Then I got Jimin to deliver them to you personally so you wouldn’t question catering.”
“Cute,” you mumble, looking up at him from your spot on his shoulder. “Back to the Yoongi part?”
“Right, the Yoongi part,” Jungkook sighs, putting his arm around your shoulder while you held his hand. “Based from what you just said, maybe Yoongi didn’t just have a crush on you, y’know? He loved you enough that he planned to ask you out.”
“And get this,” Jungkook adds, a solemn look to his face when he almost whispers it to you as if it’s a secret. “I only beat him to it a day earlier.”
He watches you process it all, waiting for it to click in before he continues so he’d know you were on the same pace with him.
“I asked you on the 1st, right? Do you still remember the date, hm? I bet you don’t,” Jungkook teases, a welcome moment of playfulness from the nature of your conversation.
“Don’t test me,” you huff, crossing your arms in retort. “You asked me out on the first day of October,” you enunciate, not having to think about it twice. “In case you don’t remember, dummy, October 1st is also our wedding date.”
“Wow. My girl knows so much, hm?” Jungkook laughs heartily, throwing his head back when he resumes his hold on you while the two of you lean against the wall. “I asked you out on October 1, then that means Yoongi would’ve asked you out on October 2.”
It’s fate; narrow fate that would’ve been changed completely if only it wasn’t kind enough to favor Jungkook.
“I narrowly beat him by a day. It was almost not me,” he plays with his wedding band. “If I was just a day late, I don’t know if I’d even be here.”
“Yoongi was almost your first boyfriend, your first love,” he exhales heavily at the thought, smiling although it doesn’t exactly look the happiest. “Your first everything.”
It’s a thought that sinks into him every second the moment he’s learned of it, the alternate of what could’ve happened haunting him by the minute. Jungkook doesn’t even know if lucky was the right term to call it. Luck seemed too shallow to be in charge of a blessing as big as you. “I’m glad fate was on my side when it led me to you.”
“It’s hard to digest everything, I know,” Jungkook admits, because even he found it difficult trying to take everything at once. “I don’t know if I could wrap my head around it now, but I want to ask,” he swallows the lump in his throat, looking straight through you that you can’t find yourself avoiding his gaze. “Please don’t lie to me.”
“If I got the whole timing wrong and Yoongi asked you out first, would you have accepted?” your husband asks. “Would you have married him?” Jungkook asks one question after the other, the gravity of it still plaguing him even if he’s said it out-loud. “If it was him and not me, would you still be happy?”
It’s a question that rattles you to your core, all the way down to your bones that your fingers tingle and it’s your ring finger that feels like twitching. It’s a loaded question that only crossed Jungkook’s mind a hundred times before he sleeps, and it a question that’s only crossed your mind now.
“I wouldn’t know, Jungkook,” you whisper, a little winded. “I don’t know.”
“It’s okay,” Jungkook nods, swallowing the hurt.
He can’t blame you — he wouldn’t blame you. He’s not the only one hurting in this equation and it would be unfair of him to require you to give him an answer now; now when it’s apparent that you’re beyond shaken and your mind feels like it’s about to split open.
“Now stand up. Ring me up as the first and last customer of the day before I go home,” Jungkook urges you to stand up, leading you by your hand to place you behind the counter, and him to stand at the other side of it.
“What are you doing?” you mumble, barely coherent because one second, your husband’s asking you if it would still be him if Yoongi had only asked you out earlier, and now, he wants you to play cashier with him.
“I have an order, baby. Just stand behind the counter and let me pay.”
Jungkook explains gently, fetching his bag with him and pulls out a whole lunchbox filled with undeveloped film canisters, the same container where he’d put in all your snacks before you left for work.
You’re speechless as you look at the collection, neatly placed together but you know that there’s hundreds of pictures and memories in that single lunchbox alone, the fact that this is all coming from your husband making your mind blank.
“All of these, please. I’ve been collecting for awhile,” he says casually, pulling out his wallet.
“Jungkook,” you call, opening the lunchbox to see the canisters for yourself if they were real and not merely props. “Since when did this start?”
Your husband doesn’t answer, instead giving you the exact amount and peering over the counter because you’re still dazed, using your fingers to punch his order in. “You’ll know. I never turned off the timestamp.”
“Bye. I love you. Text me when you get to your house,” Jungkook bids you goodbye and it’s only then that you snap out momentarily, eyes beady from trying to process the last minutes alone. He leans in just a little, all to be able to press a kiss on the corner of your mouth.
You stare when he exits the shop, watching him drive away until you could no longer see his car from the distance.
There’s no time you waste when all of the systems in your head tell you to develop your husband’s films now, not passing up a single second because it’s more of an instinct than an urge. You get to work immediately, having to fend off your parents that you’ll handle this alone and they could come home while you close off everything once you’re done. 
You get to the darkroom and do everything as quickly and as precisely as you could, seeing vague figures by the moment you hang each print to dry. It takes you the rest of the night until the early hours of morning to go through everything, greatly too impatient that you physically had to step out of the room while waiting.
It’s only when your timer goes off that you allow yourself to be in the same space with the pictures that your husband took through the years, eyes skimming over each one to look at the timestamp.
The very first picture, the very first one you processed that’s hung in the frontmost line in the darkroom dates back to October 1, five years ago — the very same day he asked you out.
The realization hits you deeply because the moment you step back, you see that every image, every composition in this darkroom of all the film pictures Jungkook has taken for the past five years, is you.
It’s pictures taken of you candidly, when you’re in mid-conversation and when your eyes are turned away from the camera. It’s images of you that are taken from afar, your silhouette turned to Jungkook and facing whatever’s in front of you instead, almost never making eye contact at all. There’s several where there’s mirrors involved and while Jungkook meant to capture your smile, he unintentionally captured his too while looking at you.
There’s pictures taken of you in your important milestones; in your wedding dress while Jungkook hung around in the back to see you getting prepared for the reception, and in bed when you’re wearing his shirt, reading the script for In Terms of Eternity’s pilot episode.
There’s mementos taken of you all over the place; ones where you’re in the driver’s seat and ones where you’re on your phone. There’s pictures of you fixing yourself in the mirror and pictures of you as you sleep, your head tucked to his neck and where half of Jungkook’s face is visible. Pictures of your hands with your wedding band worn and even pictures of you laughing, the shots itself being blurry because Jungkook laughs while you do.
Each one, all of them you.
It’s a definitive answer that you can say to Jungkook now, the question to whether or not it would still be him if Yoongi got the better slice of timing. You don’t know any other love like Jungkook’s and you’re content with it — you’re at peace knowing that Jungkook’s your first love, your first kiss, your first everything.
The answer’s clearer than ever when you see each picture that proved to you Jungkook’s love had never wavered nor faltered, no matter the distance nor the blurriness in his pictures.
It has always been, and always will be Jungkook. 
( ♡ )
You can’t move. 
Your body feels far too strained and exhausted to move, even attempting to raise your head makes you want to faint. It’s barely going well and you want to try so hard to leave your house and come home to Jungkook, but things simply were not on your side.
You already should’ve left at six in the morning and that was when you gathered your remaining strength that was left from your fever that developed drastically overnight. It was just the occasional headache and the nausea a few days ago, but figuring that you thought little of it and proceeded to work with filming until the late of the night, your sickness has gotten worse unsurprisingly.
You’re more than prepared, even packing back all your stuff into the luggage you came with and setting an alarm for you to drive home early. All you had to do was wake up and drive — and now that you’re barely coping with the first, your car won’t start. 
It won’t start no matter how much you try to remedy it by popping open your hood, unable to gauge what’s wrong because your fever’s getting the best of you and you could barely function. It was six in the morning when you trekked back to your bed and decided to take just a brief nap in hopes you’d get better.
But it’s already been four hours — it’s ten in the morning.
It’s two hours past eight and Jungkook’s been waiting for you for two hours, unable to hold it all in when it turned seven in the morning and you still weren’t there.
Jungkook’s hurt and cries his heart out because he’s slept for this, hoped for this. He didn’t know how to react when he opens his eyes at eight in the morning to not see you beside him. Jungkook’s hurt, beyond hurt to the point of speaking but he stands up immediately with a newfound drive.
He won’t settle for this. He’ll fight you on this.
Jungkook takes his key to your house and wastes no time in jamming it into your front door, vision blurry still because he drove all the way here while barely coherent. He marches up the stairs, failing to see your luggage that’s already near the front door, all that’s left for you to do was to load it in your trunk and go home to him.
Your husband storms to your room and throws the door open, voice cracking to see you still underneath the comforter.
“Get up.”
He sees you rumbling from underneath it but you don’t talk, only making him more distraught that he comes closer to the foot of your bed.
“Get up from bed right now because we’re going to fight.”
He’s no longer your husband who didn’t want to fight you on things for the sake of self-preservation. He’s no longer the one who avoided confrontation in fear of setting you apart from him because this is what he gets from being so passive — from being so unwilling to fight you.
“We’re going to fight right now because I don’t want you to break up with me,” he grits through tears, shaking your foot at the end of the bed. “I don’t want to let you go.”
Your movements from underneath the comforter are more apparent but you still don’t get up, springing Jungkook into walking to your side of the bed where your head laid.
“Get up, Y/N. I’m not kidding,” Jungkook tears up, only to shake you awake by your shoulder but he feels the abnormal warmth of it before he could even speak, the realization settling in.
“Can we fight tomorrow?” you ask in a small voice, turning over to look at Jungkook who’s been crying. “My head feels like it’s splitting open.”
“You’re sick,” Jungkook exclaims, half in worry yet half in relief because it’s the only reason to why you didn’t come home to him before hoke up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He was worried, beyond out of his mind that the first thing he does now is get underneath the covers with you, embracing you tightly. You feel it too, feeling apologetic that you were late but what’s important now is that Jungkook’s here with you, fully aware that you have no intention of leaving him.
“I was gonna come back home, trust me. My bags were all prepared,” you mumble to his neck, your husband immediately cradling your face to it as he hushes you to not strain your voice and explain. “I really was! But then my car wouldn’t start, and when I woke up this morning, I was sick.”
“I know. I know now. It’s okay, baby. I understand,” Jungkook says gently, rocking you back and forth and only thinking of now, choosing to plan later on how he’ll nurse you back to health and eventually take you home to where you belong.
“Were you serious awhile ago?” you ask while your face is still buried to his chest, your husband unwilling to ease up because he’s missed you beyond words. “Would you really have fought with me if I didn’t come back?”
“Of course. I won’t let you break up with me until I lose my fight with you,” Jungkook answers without skipping a beat. “I’m not letting you break up with me until I know I’ve exhausted every possible way for you not to.”
“I never plan on breaking up with you,” you snort, the sudden reply making you wince because your head ached from it. You get the teasing, lightest ever possible forehead flick you could ever receive in your life, your husband hushing you to just stop talking.
“Jungkook?” you hum, making him open his eyes because they were closed from how at peace he is just by being with you. “I have an answer.”
“Answer to what?” your husband’s brows furrow, a slight pout on his lips because he can’t decipher what you’re pertaining to.
“When you basically asked me if it would still be you if you got the timing wrong and everything,” you trail, the realization finally crossing him.
You think back on all the pictures Jungkook’s taken of you, several of the many manifestations of his love for you. He hums, raising an eyebrow with a curious smile on his lips. 
The words didn’t need to be said at this point because it’s an unspoken truth anyway, but with all your heart and experience of loving Jungkook, sometimes, saying the obvious wouldn’t hurt.
“The answer’s you,” you smile, warm hand finding his to flick at his wedding band. “It’s always you.”
.
.
.
.
.
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EPILOGUE
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In Terms of Eternity turned out to be a massive success that just two years later, it’s been announced to have a sequel.
Everyone’s happy with it, you yourself in a great shock over it too because you got bigger than you could ever imagine — and in the peak of it, you get to wear your wedding band to work.
The entirety of the people responsible for the drama’s in your home, one that’s a house outside of the city and not an apartment in the heart of it. It’s rightfully massive, just enough to fit everyone who’s ever contributed to the success of it.
The house was built from the ground up instead of bought, each single centimeter of space being carefully planned by you and Jungkook together. It’s new, but it’s a beautiful, exciting kind of new — one that didn’t need everything to be replaced and instead housed some of the old; just like the baby blue floor couch and the third-biggest variation of the king-sized bed that are your clear favorites.
Countless presentations have been made of letting the other win, all varying from Jungkook’s requests of having a game room and a den to your plea of commissioning to have an obscenely large painting of your choice to put in the house.
It’s a matter of yielding and loving, all of it that made this space the home of your dreams with your husband.
“Scotch for you,” Yoongi greets from nowhere as he squeezes in himself between you and Jungkook, giving the drink to your husband who surprisingly, clicked with him and is now his best friend.
He’s just about to say his next words when he sees Miso from the corner of the living room, coming to hide slightly behind Jungkook even if the cat makes no move. “God, she scares me. Did either of you ever know why she’s tried killing me multiple times already?”
“Nope. Not a single clue,” Jungkook laughs, shaking his head while he pokes a tongue to his cheek.
Yoongi lets it go, grinning as he holds your drink up. “And gin for you.”
Your mouth dries before you could even push the drink away from you, your husband already stepping in.
“Mhmm, no. No gin for my wife,” he hums, taking the glass instead to pour it into his throat all in one go. 
“But you love gin!” Yoongi furrows his brows in confusion, offering you his glass of gin instead that he hasn’t sipped out of.
“I do, but I really can’t, Yoongi,” you smile, biting your lip tentatively when you raise your eyebrows at him.
You wait for a beat for your best friend to comprehend but he still doesn’t, reminding you that he could be a bit slow sometimes.
Jungkook can’t take it either that he just laughs, taking you closer to him by the waist and puts you in front of him, announcing the news in a low voice with a warm hand on your stomach.
“We’re expecting.”
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Over protective en-
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Word count: 933
Please give credit to the creator if you reblog xoxo
Heeseung: Heeseung worries about you a lot. Like a lot, a lot. However he also knows that you're a plenty capable person and can take care of yourself. He doesn't want to seem pushy but low key adores the moments where he gets to be your superhero. For example when you went out for a lovely dinner and a middle aged man decided to crash your date. The following minutes would included the older man complimenting you, specifically your body. Yeah- Heeseung ain't putting up with that. Needless to say date night got cut short and ended with you nuzzled into your boyfriend's chest at home, where the only man you need to think about is him.
Jay: Repeat after me, husband material. He's shamelessly overprotective. Like his s/o is beautiful, smart, talented, everything he could want and more. Regardless of the situation you're always in his mind. He texts you constantly through out the day to ask about your day. So when he received a text from you that you were outside the hybe building waiting for him, imagine his surprise to see another man's arms around you. He may not be the most passive aggressive out of the members but he's in the top 3. Expect to hear his sweet voice saying some...less sweet words. It's all worth it though, cuz guess who's arms are around you now? His<3
Jake: I don't think Jake is an over protective boyfriend. He gives and has full trust with his s/o... That being said his trust doesn't extend to anyone else. He thinks everyone wants you fr✋ He'll be like
" you see that person over there, they're looking at you. "
" No they aren't-"
" I mean you're perfect so I understand why they're staring "
" they literally aren't staring ".
That is the average conversation with Sim Jaeyun. One time out of the many you've had that conversation he was right.
" They're looking at you. "
" I'm sure you're wrong Jake. "
He gave up pretty quickly on that conversation and went to the bathroom. When he came back the guy Jake had noticed was no longer in the corner from before but rather trapping you against the wall. Jake to your rescue, his method of saving is extremely painful. He chooses to ramble to death. Tell him to shut up plz ( jk I love him ). He'll make it so awkward that the guy has to go away. Definitely has the most shit-eating grin you will ever see. Call himself your knight in shining armor. Just go with it, we love him.
Sunghoon: Acts like he doesn't care. ( He does ). He cares a lot. Sunghoon will definitely deny this side of himself but everyone, even the members, knows he's over protective. Sunghoon took you on an ice skating date, something he sees as incredibly entertaining ( especially when you need his help ). When he went to retie his laces you were left all alone on the Ice, at least you thought.
" Are you all alone? "
When the young man approached you, you didn't think much of it. However, when he grabbed your hands trying to lead you on the ice , pulling you forward you suddenly feel hands on your hips. Keeping you from moving any farther. " She's with me " is all Sunghoon says before dragging you far far away
Sunoo: Sunoo is a difficult one when it comes to being overprotective. There's only one thing he gets jealous of...your pets or animals. (( He thinks they're the only things that are as cute as him )).
" You know why I'm better? Because unlike that cat I don't scratch you- I know it's cute but...so am I "
You'll probably have to give your pet and your boyfriend affection at the same time- it's just the sunoo way
Jungwon: we all know he's so silently judgmental. This definitely applies to your boy best friend. He doesn't get the concept. Like shouldn't he be your boy best friend?! Jungwon went to pick you up after class to see you talking with the other male. Jungwon felt curious, deciding to approach and listen from a far.
" Come on jungwon is always away you need a real man you need me "
Your friend put his hands on your shoulders his touch slightly aggressive. Your heart was pounding out of your chest and you desperately wanted your boyfriend. Lucky for you, he came.
" I knew I shouldn't have trusted you. You think you're so much better for them than me? If you were than you wouldn't be making MY darling so uncomfortable right now. Come on y/n were going, right now. "
Niki: Nothing worries him more than the idea of you leaving, especially for a vacation. After all he left his entire country to pursue the idea of being an idol and although there is a lot of important people in his life that he started in Korea you are definitely the most important. He doesn't know why but a certain part of his brain always switches on when he hears that you'll be leaving for a while, he's afraid he won't come back and he'll lose one more person that means so much to him. The day that you leave for vacation you'll receive hundreds of texts all of them being sweet just asking you about your trip and telling you to keep him updated so he knows his love is safe.
I haven't posted in a while but I really hope that this is enjoyable for all my readers and please give me some requests, I want to get them done before the holidays as a treat to my readers
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time to dig up those graves, m | myg, jjk
misfit toys au continuation of intro >> don’t play >> this game
pairing(s): yoongi x reader, jungkook x reader
summary: In this world, there are those who get stabbed and the ones who do the stabbing. Is it fun for you, Min Yoongi? Is it fun to see who gets the fatal strike in this game of sex and lies you've created with your stepsister? It's not so fun, though, when you actually witness her parring hits from your very own father.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; warning! implied sexual abuse (no direct actions are described); name calling; equally wealthy and SHIT parents that abuse their adult children in the name of filial piety narcissism; descriptions of a peeping tom event and a physical fight; stepsiblings; intense smut (fem reader, D/s (switches, sub!JK), fucking in a hot tub, thigh riding, nipple play, heavy biting / marking / scratching, fingering, cumming on reader's face, cum eating, m-receiving oral, restraints, blindfolding(?), use of a makeshift gag (panties) + cock ring, cock-warming, spitting, choking, cowgirl, cum feeding (from a condom ew), reverse cowgirl, ball torture); non-idol!AU - orange-haired!Yoongi x savage, bad bitch!reader, ft protective, security guard!Jeon Jungkook; shifts between Yoongi's, yours, and JK's POV
--
“Enjoyed your date, slut?”
He had to hand it to her for the hotel selection at least. The large penthouse balcony allowed for a sprawling view of a city skyline below, complete with tiny glittering windows, artificial stars shining for the restless still awake in this late night. The separation from inside area to the outside veranda was a wall of glass doors that only required a few buttons to fully open up the space, folding back into the wall to allow the guest to walk freely from the massive bed to the hot tub.
Min Yoongi walked into this extravagant hotel room with a curled lip and spite in his tone.
A voice rose from the water like rising steam.
“It wasn’t a date. It was only a client from the club.”
“That’s not what the media said.”
He saw her back first. Base of shoulder blades and up. Her elbows rested on the stone tile edge of the hot tub. Her hair was twisted into place with a long metal hairpin, revealing the curve of naked shoulders, the glistening skin imploring for his bites.
The more vicious, the better.
As he approached his stepsister, Yoongi noticed the hairpin had a thin silver chain with a charm on it.
An onyx cat head.
Her head turned, barely. The charm swung ominously in the air, making him feel like some sort of body should be attached, but the design was clearly meant to be a disembodied head attached to the end of a thin metal stake. An instrument with the sole purpose to be stabbed into tangled hair to thereby deem the wearer put together.
“You shouldn’t concern yourself with the squabble of simpletons, Yoongi.”
A wry chuckle.
“It was a dull dinner, honestly. The client was asking for some of the girls for his birthday party.”
The sound of churning water mixed with fingertips dancing on the surface. A low, mirthless hum. He could feel the cloaked rage in her otherwise calm tone.
“I told him my employees are not circus animals.”
“You don’t own the brothel, you know,” he muttered.
Silence.
An Icy itch slithered down his spine.
Yoongi had the distinct feeling that if his stepsister had a knife with her, it would now be buried into his anatomy with furious precision.
Instead, she inhaled slowly. Long digits fanning out, lifting, right hand gracefully landing on the stone tiles. Sliding out, her shoulders and head tipping back, and he saw her eyes were closed, wispy strands of hair fluttering over her cheeks and forehead. The water was milky with bath salts, aerated waves washing over her chest, concealing it save for the upper swell of her breasts.
She sank down as she leaned back, pink pillowy lips parting to let out a smokey sigh.
The onyx charm of the cat head clinked against the stone.
Scraping.
“The establishment is a gentlemen’s club. Not a daycare that rents out adult babysitters for crass, immature worms that still have birthday parties.”
Those beautiful eyes opened, darker in the dim light of the wall sconces set on low. Yoongi stayed where he was, a few meters away from the hot tub. Any closer and he didn’t trust himself. Her head tilted, gaze piercing right through him even when upside down. He noticed his eyes were wandering, glancing at her hands. Her arms. Her lips. The shape of her collarbones now prominent from the position. His tongue flitted over his lips, wetting them.
Flexible.
He knew that about her, of course. Remembered the arch of her spine with his hand on the small of her back, his tongue licking a thick, wet stripe up her torso, tasting the sinful sweetness of her skin.
Yoongi shoved his shaking hands into the pockets of his gray acid-wash jeans.
Nodded slowly, looking away from those accusing eyes.
“It’d be bad for business,” he mumbled. “Doing that kind of service.”
Seconds that felt like hours.
“I knew you would understand, Yoongi.”
The sound of shifting water.
When he glanced back, he was staring at the back of her head again.
“Where are your guards?”
“I sent them home,” she drawled absentmindedly, waving her hand. “No need for them when you’re around.”
He scoffed, ticking his head. “Hah. Like I would save you from any danger.”
“We both know saving is the last thing I want.”
The conversation lulled once more. An unpleasant, bitter feeling festered within his chest, her words ringing in his ears. He had received the envelope only a couple hours earlier. The day had been wasted away in his music studio once again. Eventually, he had given up and collected his bomber jacket to leave, finding a bright red envelope taped to the outside of his door. It had contained an address and a keycard.
“How did you know I would come?” Yoongi muttered.
The middle finger of her right hand tapped against the stone. The rhythm of her nail was barely audible over the roar of the jets of water.
“I didn’t.”
He flinched.
As if shot.
A strange kind of ache in his ribcage, as if a gaping hole was forming.
A part of him wanted to run. Not just physically removing himself from this moment. Running  could mean so many more things than that. Running was lashing out. Running was trying to find the words that hurt most. Running was holding onto the meaningless pride of needing to be more than. Running was the kind of thing his father did; exercising clout, money, pettiness to defend his conceited, selfish character.
Yoongi tucked his tongue into his cheek.
His right hand raised and rubbed the left side of his chest, pressing the jersey fabric of his t-shirt to tense muscle.
He saw her left arm shift.
It swung out, landing in the same position as her right. Fingers fanned downward, elbow resting on stone. Her decorated wrist didn’t touch the tile, keeping the silver chain bracelet with black glass beads out of harm’s way. It shone wickedly, catching the light.
Yoongi lowered his hand.
Kicked off his shoes.
Removed his jacket, letting it fall to the floor.
Her hands remained the sides of the hot tub, at rest. Calm. Not reacting to the sound of his pants falling onto the carpet, socks shed, shirt pulled up and over his head. Hooked his fingers on the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs and pushed down. Fabric collapsed onto the floor, one by one, and then the sound of his heavy step on wood.
And yet.
Nothing.
“Hey.”
Nothing.
Yoongi found he hated her saying nothing more than her calling him brother.
He lowered himself to his knees.
His hand reaching out, gliding it against her cheek, stroking her damp skin with fingertips. His thumb brushed against her lower lip. An exhale. Her soft lips pressed against the pad of his thumb, making him shiver. The ache in his ribcage was transforming into something ravenous as his fingers pressed into her jaw, turning her head while he lowered his, blurs of red-orange shielding his peripheral vision as his hair swung forward. His eyelids lowered, weighed down by the heat radiating from the bubbly, hot water.
Her head turned.
Her chin lifted with his touch, half-lidded eyes finding his.
Yoongi kissed her deeply.
Her body twisted, rising slightly, nimble tongue flitting between his lips.
He stilled his breathing.
Trying not to shudder.
She drew back, alluring eyes pulling away from him, her fingers skimming his knee. Floated backward to make way for him. He lifted his knee and swung his leg into the water, propelling his body into the waves. The temperature change from night air to churning heat shocked his nerves, sending pinpricks of goosebumps all over his skin, but he ignored it, reaching out again, his hand grasping her upper arm and pulling her back to him.
“Don’t try to escape,” he whispered.
Husky and rough.
The corner of her lips ticked upwards.
“Speak for yourself.”
She planted her hands above his shoulders, gripping the edge of hot tub, and closed the distance.
Kissing him.
Yoongi knew he didn’t have any particular morals. He didn’t care about being perceived as right or having correct conduct or who the fuck knows what else people wanted to be. Breaking rules, crossing lines, digging his fingers into his stepsister’s hips and sliding his thigh between hers while sucking on her tongue, he did these things without much remorse and without much thought, because thinking too deeply about it would mean facing parts of himself that he wished weren’t real. He knew what he should be doing. He should have stopped.
He knew that.
Her body rose, rivets of water trickling down her breasts, beading when they reached her hard nipples, fierce kisses deepening and his head tipping back, giving into the addictive, binding taste of her saliva and his mixing together, tongue to coiling tongue.
A few times of this, sure.
A few times could be forgotten.
Under the churning water, she sat on his thigh. Angling her hips downward, making them both hiss at the contact. Sensitive nerves rubbing against hard muscle. His tight grip guided the deliberate pace, staring into each other’s eyes, shaking breath shared in the mere centimeters between their faces.
Yoongi knew he could have many beautiful things.
Her eyes gleamed as her smirk reached them, shamelessly stimulating her clit against his flexed thigh, not hiding, aroused enough that he could feel the viscous juices clinging to his skin for a split second before it was washed away by the jets of water around them.
He could have many beautiful things.
She’s the most beautiful one.
He tilted his head and ran his tongue over the side of her neck, feeling her hips flinch and her head fall back, a sweet moan injected into the air above his ear. The city sounds were akin to white noise due to how high up they were, but Yoongi wouldn’t have heard them anyway, too focused on cascading water and rolling hips and the taste of her skin, her head moving aside to give him more access. Muscle and pulse under his teeth.
He bit down, marking her.
A satisfied, airy chuckle.
“I hoped you would, Yoongi.”
Power and blood underneath his mouth and his fingernails, dragging them roughly across her ass, sucking hard as she fucked herself harder, riding his hard thigh with lustful vengeance, chasing her orgasm in pain and pleasure and heat.
Out in the open, high in the sky, seemingly untouchable.
Her left hand flew off the edge and grabbed the back of his head, locking her fingers into his hair and sending flicks of red-orange tips into the edge of his vision, pinning his vicious mouth to her throat as she came, sliding closer, her soft thigh flush to his erection. Hips strongly flinching in his hands, pulsating softness pressed into his skin. Leaking honey washing away, washing away, the traces of her release reduced trembling muscles and heedless, hazy sighs laced with his name. Heartbeat roaring in his ears, his own breathing erratic and melding with her moans, all of it drifting up, up, up into the night sky where planes roared past.
Clueless sheep flying above the tangled snakes.
He kissed up her bruises and his marks, curling his tongue around her earlobe, diamond earring quivering from his raspy growl.
“Turn around.”
She slowly let go of his head.
Her breath feathered against his ear, words breezing past twin platinum hoops.
“Don’t want to look at my face, hah?” she whispered, light in tone and heavy in implication.
Yoongi said nothing.
She obeyed, untangling for less than a second before twisting her body, backing up without fear, leaning against his chest, layering their heartbeats. He raised himself a little, sliding his erection into the dip of her ass, a familiar feeling now. She hummed and rocked her hips back, rubbing his hard cock against her juicy ass.
He stopped her.
One hand gripping the inside of her thigh and the other in her hair, his fingers digging into the bun held together by a metal hairpin. The onyx cat head charm swung unsteadily, metal to gemstone rattling.
A breathless beat.
Yoongi flicked his wrist, forcibly rotating her head ninety degrees so her parted lips were against his cheek, holding her there. He breathed out. Exhale, unhurried, her warm breath drifting over his left cheek. His hand on her thigh sliding down, down, bodies surrounded by aerated water, brushing his fingertips against her shivering slit.
His eyes shifted, turning his head to look into hers.
Said nothing, letting the direct eye contact do the talking.
She held her breath.
Yoongi let his eyes explore every detail of her face, pressing two fingers to her engorged clit and rubbing slow circles. He memorized her expression. The tension in her jaw lessening at the hunger was soothed by his touch. The lowering of her lush lashes, gazing at him with desire. The way bliss slowly but surely crumbled the cloaked anger, swollen lips parting and snaking moan rising as his fingers tangled in her hair, pulled, tugging her head back and exposing his bites.
Broken vessels and seeping blood the cause of those red-purple marks, his teeth marring perfect, pampered skin.
He stared into her eyes and leaned in.
Shoved two fingers into her pussy as he covered her open mouth with his, swallowing her cry.
Yoongi did not want to forget.
His hand cupping the back of her head, pressing her body to his with his forearm, adding a third finger and thrusting his tongue into her mouth, devouring her stifled moans with greed, and he knew he did not want to forget, knew he wanted the memorize the way her body clenched around him and sucked him in, more, needing more, countless times, a hundred times, a thousand times, never enough, looking into her beautiful eyes, roughly fucking her with his fingers all the way to his knuckles, encouraged by the way her hips bucked and shuddered. Lips locked, continuous. The constant milky water adding sensual slip between their bodies. Her left hand on his hip, sharp manicure digging in deliciously. Her soft ass bouncing against his stiff length, keeping him on the edge of almost enough.
He shoved her up against his torso repeatedly.
Over and over.
Her other hand lifted from the bubbling water, sliding into his hair and intensifying the kiss.
Lost in his tongue and his hands.
Heat intensifying, lust compounding, lightheaded from shared breath. Neither of them stopping. Faster, harder, in unison, her tight grip on his ass, the kiss broken with a faint gasp, suddenly staring at the perfect arc of her straining throat and feeling the sting on his swollen lips.
“Yoongi, fuuuck…”
His name so saturated with ecstasy that even he felt his nerves sing.
She writhed against him and her hands shot down, jamming his three fingers as far in as they would go, locking him in place so he could feel deep inside, feel the powerful, slippery walls clenching around his digits, feel the cum drenching his skin in waves, bear witness to sharp throbs rippling up her torso, her back arching, moan so wanton that the sound itself was enough to make his already hard cock swell even more.
He worked his fingertips into her hair, massaging her scalp, his body on fire.
Pressed his lips to her neck, nicking the skin and eliciting a fucked-out hiss.
“You…”
She was breathing hard, winded from the high achieved at this height.
“You should cum on my face,” she breathed out.
Arousal hiking, feral want clawing up his insides, the gears of this misfit toy click, click, clicking.
“Cum all over me, Yoongi.”
The air outside the hot tub was cold, but his body was too hot to notice. Splashing water as they repositioned, but neither of them cared, too ensnared by each other, lured too deeply by the forbidden passion, her elegant fingers spreading out over her jaw and open mouth, pink tongue hanging out and loose strands artfully framing this display, looking him up and down as he gripped his cock, sitting on the stone tiles, pumping himself right in front of her face, water streaming down his tense muscles.
Her eyes gleamed with rapturous glee.
Flexible tongue coiling in the air, dancing, teasing him as he thrust into his hand.
He clenched his jaw, looking down at the unabashed, lewd, pornographic display of indecency.
“I…”
The corner of her lips ticked upward.
I love you, so I act this way.
“I fucking hate you,” Yoongi gritted out, his core tightening, already there.
She grinned, and he gasped, shoulders jerking and throwing his hips forward, shooting a thick string of white across her cheek and neck, choking back his groans as she leaned back, floating closer and showering herself in his orgasm, his twitching cock painting dripping lines over her lips, her tongue, her cheeks, her neck, even down to her collarbones and up to her forehead, his heavy scent stuck to her skin.
She smeared it all over her face, collecting his cum, sliding her fingers into her mouth and licking them off, pressing her fingertips onto her tongue and rubbing circles right below the shivering, dark red head sticking out of his tight grip.
Yoongi panted hard, chest heaving.
Saw a bead of white clinging to the tip.
Quivering.
His eyes flickered to her, unsure.
That intense gaze locked with his immediately. No malice. No anger. Only a carnal craving unsatisfied, desire unrelenting, wanting him still. Wanting more, just as he wanted more of her. Both knowing the night was still young. Both still waiting to put their hands around each other’s necks and cum together without air. Both still waiting for the ache between their legs to be fulfilled.
She glided in the water, smooth and sleek, and her lips closed around his cock.
Yoongi let his eyes close and he let go, sliding his cum-covered hand into her hair instead as her head began to bob up and down, persuasive tongue swirling around his re-engorging shaft, and he cared not for what was right or what was correct conduct, tipping his head back and burying his cock into her throat with a moan.
-
“You are a disgrace. I leave on an important business trip and I come back to my lawyer informing me that my son has fuckin’ assault charges, again. Again! Do you know how expensive these settlements to these lowlife peasants are? Tch, and you still have that disgusting orange hair I’ve been trying to get you to dye back. Fucking clean up. Why are you dressed like a dirty street rat? Shit. You should be more like your sister. As usual, the gentleman’s club has no issues and I’m forced to clean up your messes instead. If you doing jail time didn’t reflect so poorly on me, I’d lock you in there myself.”
You said nothing.
Entire body on high alert, wearing a thick cream turtleneck tucked into suit slacks, hands folded in your lap, legs firmly crossed. No easy access. You were sitting on the rigid, black leather sofa of the living room that had not seen much living. Glass coffee table, ivory shag rug. Your immaculate hair was pinned back, every strand in a smooth wave cascading down the left side of your face.
You stepfather sat beside you.
To your left.
He was wearing a lavish gold and black robe, open to reveal his toned chest. Gold silk pants to match. Holding a glass of scotch in his left hand and his right arm was resting on the back of the sofa, his fingertips stroking the nape of your neck.
You didn’t look at him.
It took everything in you to not flinch away from the vile, parasitic touch threatening to caress your bare skin.
Your jaw was clenched so tight that it hurt. You couldn’t even look at Yoongi, who was standing at the other side of the coffee table with his tongue in his cheek. Dressed like the street rat he wasn’t, distressed black sweater with the threads torn apart, washed-out gray long sleeve underneath, and light blue jeans with giant holes exposing his scabbed, scraped knees. His freshly dyed, long red-orange hair was hanging in limp strings due to too much gel and fingers combing through it too many times.
Your mother sat on your right; artificially tightened body stuffed into an even tighter, low-cut, flashy cobalt blue minidress. She didn’t add anything to the tirade except her tight-lipped disapproval and the condescending upturn of her nose.
Her hip pressed against your hip.
She scooted even closer to you, practically sitting in your goddamn lap because you refused to more any closer to your stepfather, keeping a fixed fifteen-centimeter difference between your leg and his open legs.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” you stepfather barked shrilly.
His knee flapped open more and hit yours.
You bit back a snarl, clasping one hand over the other, forcing your fist down.
Yoongi clicked his tongue and dropped his shoulders back.
Cocked his head.
“Yeah. I got a question,” he replied lazily. “How young was the youngest girl you fucked in Europe this time? Another high schooler? Or have you stooped to middle schoolers now?”
The corner of your lips quirked upwards.
Your eyes shifted, locking with Yoongi’s smug expression.
“You–”
Your stepfather flew off the couch and kicked your stepbrother in the knee with his fur-lined, designer loafer, making him grimace and buckle. A loud thud as Yoongi caught himself with his hands, visibly restraining himself as his own father poured the expensive scotch onto his head and clothes, soaking him in alcohol. His head was barely visible above the glass surface of the coffee table.
Dark eyes shot towards you.
Yoongi smirked, rivers of liquid poison sliding down his temples.
You smiled, licking your lips.
Your mother finally rolled her eyes and stood up, huffing as your stepfather hurled the glass into the far wall, and now they were yelling, he does this all the time, what is the point of getting angry and destroying my fine crystal, roaring back, don’t tell me what to do, woman, and your crystal that you bought with my money?
Yoongi got up, shaking off the excess liquid in his hair with a growl, pushing past the maids that suddenly appeared to rush and silently clean up the shattered glass right away.
“Oh, don’t be so full of yourself! You can’t even get it up anymore without the pills.”
“I told you those were for my blood pressure!”
“I’m pretty, not stupid! I asked the doctor since I had to go to find out that I somehow mysteriously got chlamydia, again!”
Your stepbrother stopped by the hall.
Looked back.
Your lips parted.
His eyes darkened, cutting that nonverbal communication, and Yoongi looked away, turning to the right, disappearing around the corner without another word.
Your mother began to grab the various equally expensive and meaningless trinkets around her, vindictively throwing them at her husband as you got up from the sofa, in a haze, wandering out as strong-armed butlers rushed in, the shouting escalating, but all you did was run, turning to the left when you reached the hall, running, still feeling the ghost of a vile, parasitic touch at the nape of your neck.
-
Jeon Jungkook entered his apartment, closed the door behind him, and turned on the light.
The young Master was standing right in front of him.
“Woah!”
He jerked back and dropped his keys, the loud clattering shattering through the disturbed air of his exclamation. He was out of his security guard uniform, handed to the laundry clerk at the gentleman’s club for them to clean and return to him when refreshed and re-pressed. He had remembered to take out the switchblade with the engraved black tiger, of course. It was currently weighing down his dark-wash jeans, the clip concealed by his long-sleeved black shirt and padded leather jacket.
The woman who was effectively his boss was standing in his apartment.
Just standing there, staring at him with a blank expression.
Jungkook swallowed hard.
His lips tingled with memory, remembering the taste of her pussy and the way her hips grinded into his face, suffocating him in the stone basement as she toyed with his overstimulated cock.
“Um… Hi, Master.”
She blinked, slowly, and it was like she finally saw him, taking the time to observe his appearance from his thick-soled black boots, up his legs, up his torso, to his face.
“You’re home, Jungkook,” she said.
He reached down cautiously, looking up at her inquisitively as he picked up his keys. Her eyes followed, tracking his movements like a newborn hawk. “Uh, yeah. I live here,” he managed to get out, lingering a little before straightening, tossing his keys in the ceramic dish by the door. “I guess it’s in my employee file, huh? My address?”
The young Master tiled her head.
Jungkook felt the same way he felt when he saw her outside the employee lockers, seeing again those empty eyes bleeding distress. He should probably be bothered, annoyed, maybe even angry at this invasion of privacy, and yet he didn’t sense any ill-will emanating from her.
It was as if she too didn’t understand why she was there.
“Ah, did I give you a key?” he asked, now unsure what he had done in his lust-filled stupor. “I guess I must have–”
“I picked the lock.”
“What?”
He gawked at her, wide-eyed.
She ticked her chin to the console table by his door and he started, seeing a strange, brushed black leather pouch open with various pointy instruments.
“A chubby boy taught me how to pick locks in middle school in return for not ratting on him for peeping at his female classmates in the gym changing room.”
It was almost comical how fast Jungkook whipped his head around, his own black hair hitting him in the face as his jaw dropped in the stunned disbelief at this very sudden, very specific explanation of how she broke into his apartment. She nodded, looking up from the lockpicks to his shocked face.
“I found him stuffed into one of the tall lockers,” she continued calmly as if she was delivering a dry speech instead of explaining how she learned literal criminal activity. “He was being bullied by the older jocks. They would beat him up, piss on him, and then shove him into one of the tall lockers in the girls’ changing room.”
“What… the fuck…”
She shrugged. “He didn’t seem that distressed about it, because then he realized the girls liked the small lockers more than the long ones. They never opened the tall ones, so he stayed there and watched them. Wasn’t gonna do anything. Just watch them take their clothes off and put them back on. Eventually, the jock boys got bored bullying him, so he went back on his own and kept locking himself in to watch.” Her head ticked, as if remembering something. “I was in there by myself, skipping class, and I heard breathing. Yanked him out. At first, I thought he was hurt. I thought he needed help.”
Something strange flitted in her eyes.
“He didn’t want help.”
Jungkook felt an icy itch slither down his spine as he witnessed her vacant expression as she explained.
“He wanted me to go away. I told him I would tell the teachers. He said he would teach me how to pick locks then. He taught me, and I went away.” Wry laugh. Nothing was funny. “I moved back to Korea for high school. Never saw him again.”
Her eyes rose, locking with his.
Searching.
Jungkook didn’t back off.
He couldn’t figure out what wasn’t quite right behind those eyes.
She looked away, turning, gazing in the direction of his expansive windows in the living room with the sheer curtains pulled. “Did you know Papa owns this building? He owns a bunch on this block. Seems like a nice area,” she commented hollowly.
Jungkook found he despised her talking about her stepfather, even in passing. “It’s okay. I picked it because it was close to work.”
That was not the reason why he picked this apartment building.
The young Master turned away from the windows. “Do you like work?”
The reason was standing in front of him.
“I’d hate it if you weren’t there,” Jungkook confessed.
She smiled.
It felt like a mirage, too distant to be a façade.
“The world is savage, Jungkook,” she said.
Clear and simple.
He answered, steadfast.
“I’m trained to be tough, remember?”
Later when he thought about it, he was surprised that he was even able to continue this kind of conversation. He usually struggled when there was a lack of straightforwardness. Yet this moment was so surreal that it felt like a dream. Something about this moment in reality was just slightly off track, a mis-clicking gear stuttering in place, all the right pieces but having trouble syncing up.
“Careful not to get backstabbed by the one you’d take a knife for,” the young Master told him, standing in his apartment after having broken in.
Jungkook took the pause that followed.
Followed the teeth of the gear, click, click, clicking into place.
“It’s true that there are two kinds of people in this world – those that get stabbed, and the ones who do the stabbing,” he found himself saying, and he could see the wary child peek out from the tangled forest of those eyes, not yet trusting him. Maybe wouldn’t. Maybe it was too late now. “But I think there’s one more.”
She tilted her head.
“The knives.”
Her soft lips parted.
“I don’t really have any particular thoughts about anything.” He shrugged. “I don’t have any solutions to the complexities of the world. I don’t know of or understand the sides to take.” He cast his eyes down, feeling strangely guilty about it. “But… I can listen. I might not know the words to say, but I have a voice. I’m capable.”
His eyes flickered upward, to the innocent fascination that received him.
“I’m a knife.”
Jungkook smiled sheepishly, hoping he made some sense.
She smiled too, then swiftly lifted her hand, hiding her lips behind her fingers as her eyes sparkled with revived mirth, relief washing through him at the sight. Her shoulders lightly quivered.
“You’re funny.”
He pointed to himself, wide-eyed.
“M… Me?”
The surrealness fell away, suddenly in reality with his warming ears.
“A-Ah, so… why are you here, Master?” Jungkook sputtered. Had he done something? Maybe a client complained about his behavior? Maybe it was a co-worker? Or… Maybe… But before his mind could go back to memories of the dark that sung melodies of pain and pleasure, he saw the shift in her demeanor. Her hand fell, no, playfulness trickling out to vacancy, no, please, the feeling of having said the wrong thing looming over him.
“You’re right.”
Detached tone and it tore up the insides of his chest.
“I should leave.”
Her face turned away from him and suddenly he saw all the details of her appearance – her immaculate hair windswept, the ivory turtleneck molded to her neck and torso, slacks made of a heavy-weighted black fabric that were wrinkled from running, and was he so preoccupied with his attraction that he forgot to observe all the pieces of this puzzle, forget this wasn’t his version of good luck and actually meant something else–
Jungkook’s hand reached out and touched her shoulder.
She recoiled.
As if shot.
“S-Sorry!”
Pulled back his hand, panic rising in his voice, the accusation in her gaze slicing through him.
“Sorry, I…”
His chest was so tight that it was hard to breathe.
“When I asked why you were here, I didn’t mean go away,” he rambled, his fingers curling inward in the air, crumbling inside, frustrated at his heart, shaking his head quickly, running away from her cowered stance and cornered eyes.
His voice.
Stricken.
“I don’t want you to go away.”
He raised his head, afraid.
It wasn’t anger that received him. Something else. Faltering, unable to look at him. “I… I shouldn’t be here. I broke in. You should be calling the police so they can lock me up.”
His mouth went dry.
He didn’t know.
But he knew.
The young Master locked eyes with him again and he hated it, hated this poisoned guilt looking back at him, hated that her lips were moving, and hated that he knew he wouldn’t like any of the words he would soon be hearing.
“Sometimes you can only be safe from danger if you’re the one in the cage,” she breathed.
Only an exhale, because annunciating those words was the equivalent of telling a dirty secret.
He bit his lip.
Jungkook shoved his hand into his jeans pocket and yanked out the switchblade with the engraved black tiger, holding it out on his palm, angry at the complicated world and angry that he could not make that poisoned guilt disappear.
“Is he the one hurting you?” he snarled.
The young Master did the thing he was afraid of.
She shook her head.
Jungkook felt like he was bleeding out with each slow, miniscule shake. Fatigue in the form of helplessness, unable to say anything, pulling his hand back and clutching the switchblade so hard that the ridges cut into his hand. No. Of course not. And he had a hint who, which was the worst part. He slid the switchblade back into his pocket, the weight not as tangible as the stale air in his lungs as he remembered the way the old Master’s husband looked at his stepdaughter, hell, even the way the old Master glared behind her daughter’s back, her own flesh and blood.
Tentatively, he raised his hand again.
Her right hand intercepted, sliding up her sternum and up to the left side of her neck, fingers curling over her shoulder. Her eyes flickering to his, but this was simple guilt now, no longer poisoned. He stilled, right hand still outstretched, centimeters from her cheek. She tried to look away.
His shaking lips let out a weak cry.
Jungkook didn’t want his selfishness to interfere, but it was inevitable.
She stayed in this eye contact and let out a soft sigh.
“I don’t want you to see even though you know what happened in that hotel room that night,” she murmured.
He swallowed.
Hard.
Made a decision.
His left hand lifting, and Jungkook closed his eyes, covering them with his hand as his right closed the distance, stroking her jaw gently. Breathed in. Breathed out. Listened to the sound of her caught gasp, felt the way she shivered, but didn’t back away, staying still as his fingers traveled, running his thumb over her lower lip. Involuntary shudder, remembering the insistence that mouth possessed, and he too wanted to be possessed again, lightly pressing his fingertips into her cheek, imploring.
Her body shifted.
Stepping closer.
His hand fell, covering hers over her shoulder.
“That’s none of my business,” Jungkook whispered.
Somehow, she understood.
Her hand slipped out from under his. He held his breath, seeing only the inside of his eyelids. Her hand came back, fingers wrapping around his, stroking his knuckles. Sank her fingernails in. He gasped, her name savored by his tongue like a delicate sweet, and she leaned in, bringing her heat and that carnal insistence, kissing him deeply in the darkness he created.
-
“Shh…”
Wrists bound with natural-fiber rope. So simple, the knot between them wound around several times and then brought up with another square knot, tied securely to a large lasso around the square base of the extremely heavy travertine coffee table.
Your fingers ghosted over the straining arms.
One heavily inked all the way to the shoulder. One clean save for a mole in the inner upper arm.
You leaned down and pressed your lips to that mole.
Licked it, dripping saliva and blowing on it. A cool stream over hot skin taut over hard muscle that shivered at the change in temperature. You continued kissing, down, down. Over collarbones sticking out due to the arms pulled upward. Over the shaking throat, hearing muffled shudders under the white towel placed over the head.
Your panties were stuffed into his mouth, partly overflowing to create a small pocket of air between the nose and towel.
Your fingers crept under the towel, pushing it up a little, and traced his lower lip, knowing there was a small mole underneath them, at the center. Wiped away his spit. Cleaned him up. Pulled your hand out and dragged your nails down his neck in the process. A small whine that clearly indicated syllables. A word.
Harder.
You raised your naked body and slid down, sinking your fingernails into Jeon Jungkook’s shaking chest and scratched him with your pointed, almond-shaped manicure, leaving behind angry red lines, growling deep in your throat.
His wanton moan under you, familiar and grounding.
You breathed out.
Calm now.
“You want me to be addicted to inflicting pain?” you dreamily sighed, question hazy like smoke, rolling your shoulders as you pulsed your slick pussy lips against his hard length that you had been sitting on for a while now. “That’s a dangerous game to play, Jeon Jungkook.”
His fingers curled into fists, muscular arms quivering, deliciously whimpering.
His head was on his living room rug, but the rest of his body was on the unforgiving hardwood. A jumble of clothes beside your bodies, along with two other things. You were straddling his hips. Slid back, jamming his stiff length in between his thighs forced together by yours pressing inward, rubbing your wet heat against the shaft, coating him with your juices.
You toyed with his nipple as you mused.
“I was not surprised your had condoms, but I was surprised that you had a cock ring.”
You flicked the small nub repeatedly, running your nail over it, feeling it harden under the pad of your finger. Abused the other one too, listening to his snuffed gasps and seeing his arms buckle, pulling at the rope. The travertine table did not move, of course. Licked your finger and pressed your saliva to his irritated skin to add a new sensation, slow circles agonizingly tender as you rolled your hips. You deliberately kept your pussy away from stimulating the head of his cock.
Then you pinched his nipple, hard, making him cry out at the harshness.
“Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.”
You lifted your lower body, reaching for a condom in the pile.
“Do you touch yourself and think about that night in the basement?”
He moaned desperately when he heard your rip the packaging open.
“Do you jack yourself off with the cock ring on, abusing yourself and wishing it was me?”
You picked up the silicone circle, surprised at the firmness. It had only a little give. A slight adjustment of your legs and you looked down, his twitching cock glossy with your slick, the dark red tip leaking pre-cum.
You leaned down.
Licked it.
Without the stabilization of a hand, his rigid length slipped, smearing pre-cum onto your cheek and bouncing wildly. A stifled sob shuddered under the white towel. Begging. You licked again, intentionally messy and not enough stimulation, tasting your vicious sweetness mixed with the strong bodily flavor of his pre-cum.
Jungkook whined, the sound vibrating in his chest.
You snaked your tongue around the head and collected it into your mouth.
Stopped.
Just covered the throbbing head with your soft lips and stilled, holding the condom in one hand and the cock ring in the other. Warmed it with your saliva, spit running down the length as seconds tick, tick, ticked by.
The whine morphed into inaudible pleas, his back arching, chest flexed, arms locked, muffled cries of your name to move, suck, do anything, anything at all, but you simply kept him in a warm, wet sleeve, not even the length but only the twitching head that was leaking more and more, tongue pressed to the underside to stimulate the thin skin and keep him hard.
The towel began to slip as his head tipped back.
You removed your mouth.
He barely had time to gasp before you seized his cock, squeezing roughly, his gasp shooting into a pained groan.
“Watch the towel.”
He made a subservient noise of agreement, lowering his chin again.
You let your breath out.
Gripped his thick girth and rolled the condom down, slowly, steadying your heartbeat to even. Taking your time. Pressed two fingers to the base and slid the cock ring over the latex, additional lubricant making it easy, closing your eyes as Jungkook quietly sniffed under you, relenting to your pace.
“Shhhh…” you murmured.
Soft and gentle and delicate, your thighs rising from his, leisurely opening your eyes as you lowered yourself again, relishing in the way his whole body shook and tightened when your pussy wrapped around him, swallowing his cock on one smooth stroke.
You glided your hands up his abdomen, not yet moving your hips.
His begging was silenced by his own teeth clamping down on your panties, his neck glistening with sweat and strain.
You spat on his stomach.
Jungkook’s entire body lurched, suffocated choke of your name striking the air.
You slapped your palm down onto the saliva and raked your fingernails over his side, bucking your hips with the slash and sending his body into a frenzy, shock and pain and pleasure barreling into him all at once. His hips jerked up and you slammed your hips down, fucking him into the floor with your knees to wood, switching between clawing his torso and pinning him down to fuck him harder, chasing, chasing the rush and the ecstasy, adrenaline high rippling through you with his swelling girth threatening to stretch you out, but you clenched your core and all around him, your sweet slick mixing your spit on his balls, loud smacks of hips to hips echoing throughout Jungkook’s apartment.
You wrapped one hand around his neck.
You fucked him right there, on his hardwood floor.
White towel over his face and his depraved moans distorted by your panties shoved into his lips and your hand gripping his throat. Tighter, blood thinning and oxygen not enough, his chest aflame with red lines, muscular body straining against the rope, writhing to fuck you back and get that agonizing depth, and you raised your other hand, scraping your fingernails against his now-reddened, hard nipples, causing him to howl and cry out, closing in his biceps to his head and holding the towel down over his face, black hair flaring out, wild and insane, your name torn unwillingly from his throat.
You felt his cock jerk and his hips froze.
“Oh?”
You clenched above and below, feeling the hardness twitch uncontrollably.
A distressed whine from under the towel and quivering, bulging arms.
“Came already, even with the cock ring?” you hummed, letting go of his neck. No outright disapproval. Just a hint. It was enough, maybe even better for him. You could tell by the despair radiating from the muffled sounds, the upper half of his chest flushing pink.
The corner of your lips ticked upwards.
“Shhh.”
You patted his hard pecs, the ricocheting heartbeat under your palm as you lifted yourself off his slightly softening cock, still maintaining some hardness due to the choke of the cock ring. You removed both, careful with the condom so to not spill the milky liquid inside.
Set the sticky cock ring beside his crumpled jeans.
Leaned over and folded back the bottom half of the towel, exposing the tip of a nose and swollen pink lips with your black lace panties crammed into them, the fabric now saturated from his drool. You tugged at the makeshift gag and his jaw unlocked, gasping as you pulled it out, silver lip ring on the edge of that sinning mouth trembling.
You pressed your thumb to the small mole right below his mouth.
Rolled the pad of your finger, nicking his lower lip with your nail, dragging it down.
“Open up.”
So obedient.
Waiting, soft pink tongue so inviting in the darkness.
“Let’s be dirty together,” you whispered, voice rough from the wrongness of what you were about to do.
Jungkook whimpered in agreement.
You spat into his mouth.
He moaned, runny clear liquid sliding down his tongue, gulping awkwardly, his lips still somewhat open from your hand gripping his chin. You forced his jaw open even more, hooking your index finger into the inviting darkness, pressing onto his teeth.
Then you poured the contents of the condom into his mouth.
His own cum and traces of used lube, wringing the condom as his body jerked, disbelieving gurgle at the taste, unformed questions beneath your grip, but you dove down with a starving hiss, releasing his chin and covering his mouth with yours, thrusting your tongue inside to drink it too, cum and saliva and the bitter hint of latex, turning his shocked cries into guttural groans, your hand over his eyes, pinning the towel down as your tongue-fucked him.
The only thing that made the tainted taste bearable was the sweetness of saliva and the high of orgasm.
His cock slapped against your thigh, already hard again.
Sweat was soaking through the towel, damping your palm.
You yanked the white towel up, pulling it away from his face as your body turned, dropping the used condom and picking up another, swinging your leg around his waist to face the other way. Wiped your hand with the towel, throwing it aside carelessly when you were done. Not going to bother with the cock ring this time.
You ripped open the condom.
Slid it down his purple-red, throbbing length and then sat on it, immediately starting a harsh, intense pace.
Behind you, a thin gasp and then a ripple of tension over his body, traveling down his torso that your calves were pressed against, to his legs, hard thighs clutched in your hands, snapping your hips and clawing at the inside of his shaking legs, jaw clenched, fucking him, chasing your high. Closer. Closer to between his legs, scratching him so hard that you marked up that tan skin, closer.
You gripped his balls and closed in your knuckles, hard.
Jungkook cut off his own pitched, obscene moan, reducing it to a stifled scream behind closed lips.
You tightened your core and smacked your ass down into his crotch, over and over, putting your power into your hips and just enough to your hand, keeping him in the immobile enclosure of your rigid fingers, clenching your jaw and feeling the rise, the climb to the high, every second another click, click, clicking gears of this misfit toy intoxicated by savagery.
Grasped the inside of his thigh, tipping your head back with a hazy moan as you left red crescents of pain.
Jungkook wailed behind gritted teeth, thrown into painful ecstasy.
The pleasure snaked to every nerve. Electrifying, oppressive, brutal bliss with the locking of your hips, pulsating flinches constricting around twitching hardness. Once again pumping a condom full. Your grip on him loosening, so good, losing yourself in wave after shuddering wave of hazy orgasm as you ran your palms up and down his inflamed thighs, irritated lines raised from the points of your nails dug too deep.
His muscles were tense and shaking, struggling to come down and uncurl his toes.
What have I done?
-
She fell.
The movement was so swift that Jungkook didn’t notice until it was too late.
Her back arched gracefully, left arm shooting out, grabbing the switchblade from the pocket of his jeans and yanking, her other arm arcing back even faster, grabbing one of his bound wrists and then her fingers glided to the joined knot between them.
Her shoulder blades touched his shivering pecs.
She sliced clean through the rope with a single flick.
Jungkook gasped, startled at the speed and dexterity. His arms smacked to the floor, pins and needles radiating due to his wrists becoming suddenly slack with no support, the shreds of rope scattering. She sheathed the blade and threw it back on his jeans.
Panted on top of his heaving chest.
His cock was slipping out, but the soreness and heat of the marks she left kept his afterglow at an all-time high, hazy and delusional and running on fumes. His forehead was sweaty. His back was sweaty. There was definitely a puddle of cum and saliva under his ass, sticky and cooling. His arms were aching, not from the tension of the rope but the tension of himself, stressed from keeping his whole body taut to prevent himself from moving too much, leaving himself at the mercy of unpredictable pain and pleasure.
It was torture.
It was the best.
He peeled his right arm off the rug and settled it over her collarbones, holding her left shoulder. Shuddering, the brutal bliss ebbing against his will. Staring at the ceiling of his apartment, wondering what the fuck he had just done.
Jungkook felt light fingertips ghosting over his trembling, hard forearm.
“You have scars.”
Soft breath and tone, just for him.
He did.
“Y-Yeah…”
He placed his left arm over his eyes, puffing heavily from exertion.
“I got thrown out a window.”
She touched the back of his hand, tracing the lines of his tattoos and the whispers of healed wounds.
“A long time ago, when I was a teenager. It was an older building, my high school. The windows were basically just thin panes of old-ass glass. No reinforcement on the first level, so I didn’t break any bones, but I got really sliced up.” He chuckled airlessly, pressing her to his sweaty body. “I was fighting.”
“About what?”
The irony was too real.
“I slept with some guy’s girlfriend, apparently.”
Curious inquiry. “Apparently?”
He snorted. “She failed to let me know beforehand. But, for some reason, it was my fault more than hers and I’m the one that got beat up. Go figure.”
Her hand settled on his wrist, fingertips resting on his knuckles.
“I knocked him out after crashing through the window. My taekwondo teacher always told me that learning martial arts was not about hurting others, but this guy threw me out the window, so I got tired of holding back and made him eat dirt. After that, I took up boxing lessons too. Just ‘cause.”
Her body vibrated under his arm.
She was laughing, laying on top of him, naked body to naked body.
“You’re funny, Jungkook.”
-
“Why do you like it?”
He was shirtless and eating out of the ice cream tub with a spoon. “What?”
You tilted your head at him.
“The sadism.”
Jungkook turned bright red despite the hefty chunk of ice cream he just shoved into his mouth. Choked and whipped his head away, dragging himself and the chocolate ice cream that had a whole lot of things in it that could only be described as the components of a small diabetes bomb. You craned your head to try and see around that broad back. There was an odd fleshy sound and then a wheezing gulp. He whipped around, face still shockingly scarlet, awkwardly laughing, jamming the lid back on the cold-sweet-death confection.
The spoon clattered into the sink.
“T-That’s–”
You looked at him, confused.
“That’s–D-Do you hate it?” he blurted. Black strands tousled and curled around his cheeks. His long hair was a mess. The floor wasn’t, not anymore. You asked what to do to help, but Jungkook instead took you to the bathroom and gave you a fluffy white towel from a linen closet. By the time you had come out, the traces of rope and cum were gone. Wiped away, as if it had never happened. Your clothes had been folded in a neat pile, set carefully onto the coffee table.
You had put them on as you heard Jungkook moving around in the kitchen.
Your panties were in the trash can.
They couldn’t be saved.
In contrast, Jungkook was in gray sweatpants and no shirt. He was probably commando too, but you didn’t ask or look.
You frowned at his question. “I don’t–”
I don’t do things I hate.
You stopped speaking.
That’s not true.
You looked away, furrowing your brow. “I don’t hate it,” you said firmly. That much was true. “I like it with you.” You tucked your tongue in your cheek, thinking. “It’s different.” And now you were realizing it was different. You have had shameless, mindless, pointless sex. Of course. This much money and nothing but time to kill when your mother had her back turned and ass up? Naturally, you took advantage of the situation. Got yourself into tangled limbs and dubious positions. Nothing was shocking anymore. Nothing and no one tasted good.
Except Yoongi.
Because…
You shook your head quickly, cutting the thought off.
Jungkook called your name and you looked up, surprised it had sounded so far away for a moment. So far away, but you dragged yourself back to Jungkook and the questions in his eyes.
You found yourself taken aback as a new thought popped into your head.
“I like hurting you because you want it,” you breathed. “Because it’s not an internal emptiness you are trying to fill. You just like the idea of me in complete control of you and your body.”
And then, the question.
“Why?”
His fingers on the ice cream carton tightened. He was a lot less red now. Large brown eyes shifting. Light shrug that consisted of a single lift of his right shoulder, the black mandala inked there gleaming under the overheard lights from his movement.
Jungkook found your eyes again.
You stared into those clear irises.
You had become so accustomed to the ways of the world where everyone shot everybody. So used to always scrambling for ammo to load your gun, so familiar to your silence so no one had any bullets to use against you, so used to war as second nature when money was the terrible master, and you had become so accustomed to it that you forgot that not everyone was a servant.
Not everyone was hiding something in order to step on others.
You were born into this game. You toyed with the players because you learned that, if you didn’t, bad things would happen. You had to become the snake that charmed without a charmer. Alluring enough to slide by on good graces, dangerous enough to warrant a warning label, and always keeping everyone guessing what your next move was.
You had to become an object of wonder to survive.
But, when Jungkook looked at you, he put this misfit toy on the other side of wonder.
“Are you ever in complete control of anything, Master?”
-
“Daughter, I don’t understand. What is the big deal? I don’t say anything about you coming to work and then disappearing during the night, but, you know, he does notice. This is such a small thing you can do you settle his nerves. How many times have you done it? Come on. You can help me out once again. He’s becoming so irrational and ridiculous. You have the power to control him.”
“I’m not going to fuck him, Mother,” his stepsister spat coldly, saying the last word like it was a venereal disease.
Yoongi froze in the dark hallway, staring at the crack of light from the ajar door.
“Hah, I keep telling you, don’t say it like that,” his stepmother cooed, sounding like she had slapped her palm with her other hand in slight exasperation. “That’s so vulgar and uncouth. That’s not what this is.”
He had been slinking around the family mansion, trying to find her. The moment right before he left the living room kept repeating in his mind for days. He couldn’t focus on music. He couldn’t go out and drink at shitty bars. He couldn’t look at the Han River without wanting to throw himself in those dark churning waters, all because of the last time he and his stepsister made eye contact.
He didn’t give a shit what his father did to him.
And yet.
He saw his father’s hand on his stepsister and didn’t say anything about it.
What was there to say?
Yoongi did the same thing to her, only worse.
The glaring revelation closed him off. He saw the hurt in her eyes when he ran and yet he still ran, ran and ran and ran, thinking about nothing until he was locked in his music studio, surrounded by soju bottles, and then all that liquid streaming down his checks wasn’t alcohol, because all four bottles were empty.
“You’re so full of shit.”
The hostile snarl sliced through his thoughts.
Yoongi realized that he had never heard his stepsister angry before. Known she was angry, yes, but she had always maintained composure when she was in his presence. He had never heard her voice fanged with malice, every word festering hatred.
Never.
An icy itch slithered down his spine.
“Oh, because putting your husband’s dick in my mouth isn’t vulgar and uncouth. That’s something, especially after your doctor’s appointment.”
“Ugh, I’m aware and I’ll have that taken care of,” was the dismissive reply. “Let’s not get too technical. I will be beside you the entire time. Haven’t I always kept a roof over your head? Besides, these kinds of men are stupid and easy. He will last seconds. You’ll practically do nothing.”
“A fuckin’ doghouse would have been preferred over those motel roofs. And why are you even asking me? The Master can’t do it alone?”
His stepmother was beginning to sound annoyed, the cloying façade crumbling at the mocking. “How many dirty, pill-popping addicts have you let cum in you? You are being selfish and not thinking about the big picture. I am trying to keep this family in one piece. This kind of thing is so small in the grand scheme of things. Tch, can’t you see this from my perspective?”
Yoongi backed away from the door.
Silently, quickly, turning and walking fast. His heartbeat roaring in his ears, wishing it was loud enough to drown out the words from his memory even though he knew they were true, even though he could see it between wordless gazes and inappropriate touches, even though he had said it himself, accused outright, hoping.
Hoping his stepsister would vehemently argue that no such thing was going on.
She never did.
He had hoped that she enjoyed it, hoped he could hate her and wash his hands free.
Instead, she enjoyed his hands, his touch, his kiss.
Yoongi stopped at the end of the hallway, now standing in the foyer with the large windows and crystal skylight high above. Bright and airy. Expensive and vapid. The sun’s hazy rays streamed down all around him, diffused from the faceted glass.
He turned back and faced the dark hallway.
Called her name.
Waited.
-
“Don’t pretend. You don’t give a shit about this family. You’re here to get some ammo to load your gun so you can enjoy holding it against that old man’s head as he pays you an even fatter alimony to keep your mouth shut. What do you think I am? Pretty and stupid? You have been trying to trap me in this childlike mindset even as a grown adult. How convenient it would be if I believed you? If only I take this bait and do what you want so I can be just…”
Pausing to let the damage sink in.
“Like…”
Taking the moment to drive the knife in deeper.
“You?”
You backed up and turned around, hearing Yoongi yell your name again, louder this time.
“You’re miserable and fake, inside and out.”
You didn’t look back to see at you mother’s infuriated face. Didn’t hear her hissing at you to apologize, instead kicking the door wide open and stalking down the hallway in deliberate, large strides, white-hot anger scorching your veins, nearly colliding into Yoongi when you turned the corner. Gelled back, red-orange hair and all black outfit of a ripped denim jacket, designer t-shirt, and paint-stained jeans.
All of your fury dissipated once you saw him.
You cocked an eyebrow.
“What’s with you? Miss this that much, hm?”
You stuck your tongue out and smirked around it.
And you suddenly stopped, seeing his face. Something stricken across his sharp features caused your hesitation, pulling your tongue back. You had never seen this hopelessness before, especially not from Yoongi who was one that discarded everything and everyone with distrust. It must have only been milliseconds, but it was so potent in his expression that it was unmistakable.
Yoongi grabbed your left wrist so tightly that the glass beads of the chain bracelet you wore sharply pinched your skin.
“Come with me,” he breathed.
You felt your body lurch with his power and suddenly you were walking fast and he was walking faster, pushing past maids and butlers who pretended nothing happened, pushing past people living in the motto of better to feign blindness than to know, pushing past the sheep. He clutched your wrist like it was his lifeline. It hurt, but not in an unpleasant way. Confusion rippled through you and yet you let it happen, taking twice as many steps in your high heels and tight minidress, constricted by lace sleeves and a ruffled, high collar. All-black, just like him.
A pair of funeral-goers, maybe.
Apt for this household.
He practically dragged you down the stairs to the large garage with too many cars, shoving your keys from his pocket into your hand.
“Yoongi–”
He yanked your caviar leather cardholder out of his other jacket pocket and flashed it, jerking his chin to your vehicle.
“Get in.”
He didn’t have your cellphone and you didn’t ask him if he had it.
Your car unlocked as you neared the door handle. You got in, seeing your stepbrother throw himself into the passenger’s seat. Snapped the car door closed and tapped the button, whipping your head to him as the car hummed to life.
“I’m not your personal chauffeur, bro–”
“Please drive.”
You froze.
Yoongi was breathing hard, staring straight ahead.
“Please, drive and get us the fuck away from this house.”
You shut up and backed out of your spot. Put your foot on the accelerator and drove, just drove, Yoongi’s please ringing in your ears, taking a leaf out of his book and fuckin’ booking it out of there.
--
masterpost
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whaleofatjme1920 · 1 year
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Kinktober Day 28: Drips and Drops 
Blood Play [Brian Thomas X GN!AfabReader] 
[Warnings: knives, unsanitary in general, rough sex, MINORS DNI]
[AN:  well. This is what it looks like. I'm also not,,, physically feeling well?? My stomach is not having it, but only hot ppl seem to have stomach problems *eyeroll* /jk Don't know the word count bc I wrote it here on tumblr this time!!.]
Reblogs are appreciated!
Kinktober Masterlist
Brian's index finger moves along blade of his pocket knife before he slips it back to a fold, letting the metal go back to its hiding place. There's a small smirk on his lips from how he's marked you. Carved into your skin are the words 'mine' and 'property of Brian', alongside a few hearts and other miscellaneous words and doodles of his cutting love. He runs his fingers over the cuts, watching as you wince.
"How are you feeling?" He asks softly as he lets the blood coat his fingertips.
You shakily sigh and nod your face into the mattress. "I'm okay," you say. Not believing you've convinced him, you turn your head to the side and over your shoulder. "I promise, I'm doing alright." The cuts he left were more akin to somewhat deeper cat scratches, and they sting whenever his warm breath fans over them, but you take the pain in a stride. He left those there because he loves you.
He hums softly and pulls his fingers from your back. "Guess you won't mind if I..." he trails off slightly as he pumps his cock, painting it with your blood and arousal. He drags the tip along your hole's opening and dreamily sighs out. "If I touch you like this." He barely finishes the sentence before pushing slowly inside of you.
You grip into the edges of the bed as you arch your back in just the right way, letting your ass hang high in the air for him. You softly moan as you feel him press deeper and deeper inside of you. You feel all too aware of the way your blood drips in thin lines before balling at the ends. You don't care how it rolls down your ribcage and falls to the towels like drops of crimson rain.
Brian doesn't waste any time. He grunts before swinging his hips back and then pushing back into you, thrust after thrust, he works up a quick speed. "Fuck," he hisses. "You're so fucking tight and all I've done was make you bleed." He reaches his hands around to your waist and squeezes. Pulling you back on his hips, it's almost as if he's treating you like you're his own personal fleshlight.
You don't really mind the implication as it crosses your realm of thought. You moan aimlessly for him and bounce on his cock. He's not the thickest you've ever seen, but he is definitely the longest, and lucky for you, he knows how to use it. You squeeze your eyes shut as he shoves his cock even deeper inside of you. He's caressing you in all the right places, and it's getting harder and harder to hold on. Your thighs tense as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to your peak.
"Brian, oh gods, Brian," you cry out before letting another loud moan escape from your open lips. You shamelessly buck back to meet his thrusts. Your blood runs hot before some of it spills from your back. Your body feels like jell-o, really. He's fucking you so hard, you're certain to see stars soon. "I wanna-! Oh Brian, I'm gonna cum." You almost feel pathetic broadcasting your thoughts out to him but you know he'd punish you if you dared came with out his permission.
Brian rolls his hips up roughly and ruts deep inside of you. "Then do it," he breathlessly commands. He feels your hole tighten around him before you shudder, followed by the unmistakable pulse of someone who's just gained nearly impossible pleasure from him.
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bonny-kookoo · 2 years
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Jungkook: Big Bad Wolf 3
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In which Jungkook finally doesn't scare you out of the room for the first time.
Tags/Warnings: wolf hybrid!Jungkook, Idol!Jungkook, Bear hybrid!Namjoon, Tiger hybrid!Taehyung, Cat hybrid!Yoongi, Human!Seokjin, Human!Hoseok, Cat hybrid!Jimin, bunny hybrid!Reader, very easily scared reader, stereotypes, jk has a crush on bunny, Technical staff!Reader
Additional Chapter Warnings: jk a happy doggo, harmless teasing, spicy teasing 👀
Chapter Length: short
<- Previous | Next ->
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When he spots you in the breakroom the next time you see each other, there's a big band aid covering the scratches near the tip of your shoulder- barely peeking out from the sleeve of your shirt. You're struggling with something- ears pinned back, pout on your face. "can I help?" Jungkook asks carefully when one of your ears turns towards him, showing that you've noticed him- but chose not to run away this time.
Ans when you turn towards him, shyly holding out the large bowl of ramen wrapped in plastic, he can't help but have his tail wag from side to side.
Fuck being 'cool'.
"how are the scratches? All healing well?" he asks, trying to keep a conversation flowing with you, when you nod. He thinks you might not say anything, but you answer after another moment- showing some pink kinesiology tape on your forearm. "oh?"
"I hurt my uh.. Like, muscles a little bit. But I'm fine!" you say, before bowing. "thank you again by the way! I only noticed at home that I never really-"
"it's fine, bunny." Jungkook chuckles, deciding to prepare your food for you while you both talk. "I'm glad nothing happened. I was worried." he mumbles, and now your ears rise a bit in interest.
He thinks it's adorable.
"why?" you wonder, before you seem to get it. "oh! There's always staff who can also do my job, dont wor-"
"no, that's not what I meant." he says. "I wasn't worried about you as.. You know, a coworker." he explains, while you just seem confused.
"I.. Wouldn't say we're coworkers, Jungkookie.." you say, making him look at you with twinkling eyes, tail suddenly wagging very obviously. "huh?"
"did you just call me 'Jungkookie'~?" he teases, and you turn a bit red at that, scared of being told off.
"no no no I said Jungkook-ssi! I would never-" you hurry out, as he walks a bit towards you, testing the waters as his hands hold onto the edge of the metal table behind you, eyes turning a bit darker while his tail slows down. You're both alone- most staff having left, other members on their way home as well. Suddenly, he looks like the predator he is again- but instead of making you scared, it makes you swallow hard for a different reason.
The air is thick for a moment, and not with the feeling of fear.
"I don't mind you calling me that at all, bunny." he hums out with a deep voice, relishing in the way you're affected exactly in the ways he wants you to be. You're not scared of him in this moment, even though he's got you cornered- no. He begins to smell something entirely different on you- before he gives you your space again, taking his bag to throw it over his shoulder. "heal well, I'll see you tomorrow!" he cheerfully waves, before leaving you with your thoughts alone.
And the bowl of instant noodles on the table is nothing compared to the heat on your cheeks that lingers even long after he left.
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nuggiebugge · 2 years
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The slashers with a chubby s/o!
Michael myers
michael doesn’t care what you look like to be honest
It doesn’t matter, skinny, thick, curvy, tall, short
He just wants someone to wet his Willy (jk)
He will grip those love handles like they’re the only thing keeping him on the ground
Jason voorhees
like with michael, it doesn’t really matter
He loves you for you, and the fact you love him back is a wonder in its own
He loves how soft you are, and it just adds to how much he loves to cuddle when hes not chasing off those horny fucks.
You are so warm ohmygosh
If youre insecure about your pudge, he will kiss you all over to make you see yourself the way he does
He will kiss your cute little tummy, your soft thighs, your full lips
Brahms heelshire
he thinks you look like a teddy bear
If he wasn’t clingy before, he is now
He will try to be subtle when he gropes you, but its obvious hes squishing your love handles
You’re perfect for cuddling, so he will never let you get up from the bed, couch, floor
If he sees you poking at your stomach, or looking at yourself with anything but adoration, he will jump on you and not let go until you say you’re perfect. BECAUSE YOU ARE WHATS WRONG WITH YOU?!
He will demand in his little voice “say it y/n! Say you're perfect or you're carrying me all day!”
Vincent Sinclair
you look like a sculpture of a Greek goddess
No, y/n look *shows you sketches and painting of Greek goddesses*
If he comes up from the basement while youre cooking, he’ll come up behind you and just hug you shyly.
You know what he wants, and turn around. you smoosh him in your form, smothering him in warmth and softness.
Cuddle sessions are at least an hour long. It’s mandatory, what do you mean?
He will learn to cook your favorite food, and if it turns out good he will perfect it just to see you smile.
Chucky/Charles lee ray
He doesn’t really care to be honest
He just thinks you're pretty/handsome in general(shut up he’s a bicon and you know it)
He might not show you special affection because of it, but he loves the way your curves fit into clothes.
Bubba sawyer
oh my goodness you have a belly like he does!
You’re so cute, just like a little panda
He will scoop you up just to hear you squeak (caught off guard by his strength, he stronk)
He will snuggle you all day if you let him
He will babble in your ear trying to tell you how cute you are, but it just comes out as a marbled mess
He’s so soft for you like omg
Thomas Hewitt
you're just like aunty Mae
He thinks youre adorable
Your pudge just adds to his attraction to you
He will ask Luda Mae to help him make your favorite food to impress you
He is a very serious man, but you melt all of that away
He will learn how to bake just to make you smile
Pyramid head
at first he thinks you're weak
He slowly starts to like you though, he doesn’t think you're cute, he thinks you're beautiful
You’re exactly like a goddess he once served
He will kiss the ground you walk on
He will carry you around all day while he kills creatures that dared to bother you with their incessant bloodlust
He will never get tired of feeling your soft pudge on his shoulder
He will pet you like you’re a cat
Asa Emory/ the collector
Collector
he treats you like he would treat one of his most prized collection
You’re just a perfect specimen
Your extra pudge adds protection to your internal organs, which means he doesn’t have to worry much about internal damage
You’re very sturdy, you can handle a lot of physical abuse. Therefore, he can be a tad more rough with you
Asa
he likes it when you sit on his lap while he works
When you're sleeping together, he likes to be little to be able to squish you a little bit, he loves feeling how soft you are
Like in his collector persona, he loves that he can be rough with you, but in a different sense of course wink wonk
Jesse cromeans/ Chromeskull:
you're his perfect princess
He will spoil you so much, he will take you out to dinner or he will cook you meals from scratch
The clothes you need are too expensive because the plus size market is bullshit? He will buy you an entire new wardrobe
You want a corset, but the cheapest one in your size is 60 dollars? He will buy you a better one than that shitty waist trainer.
It almost feels like you're his sugar baby, but its not like that. He might expect extra cuddles, but that’s only because you're so warm and soft
He has cameras, so if he catches you self-deprecating in any way he will come home immediately. It doesn’t matter where he is, he's coming back to smother you in kisses.
Tiffany valentine ray
oh my gods lets go shopping
You said you needed a new bra right? Let’s go babe! Mamas got you!
She is a PDA queen, she will snuggle you in public, commenting the whole time about how soft you are
If she hears one comment about your body coming out of anyone’s mouth, she’s taking a nail file to their throat.
No one insults her baby
Nancy Downs
she would think youre the cutest thing ever
She will take you out to eat every weekend, and then have picnics every Friday after school :)
She would compare you to goddesses(not as to anger any of them, because some are quite vain)
She would believe that Monol put every ounce of love into your body, and believe you were his gift to Nancy.
She that there’s only more of you to love
If anyone makes you feel bad about your body, they are going to be on the news the next morning
Stu Macher
He is a Florida man on crack.
He will come running up out of nowhere, throw you over his shoulder, and run away leaving your friends confused as you scream in the distance.
He might look like a little twink, but it takes some real muscle strength to gut someone
He will make sure to leave you flustered every time you talk, gently rubbing your sides as you talk, hugging you from behind to squish your tummy
Billy Loomis
He LOVES thicc queens
He is a chubby chaser for sure
He would loved it if you laid on top of him while you two cuddled, he loves the comfort of your weight pressing on him
You’re like a heated, weighted blanket.
He thinks you’re so sexy, the way that dress/suit hugs your figure
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Text
Post the current first sentence(s) of your wips!
Just admit it yall want to see the goods! 😂 jk jk, thank you for the tags loves @carronyaflowers @f1-giuki @amarynas
Mr. Steal your girl:
@dannyric4ever:
Guys the content of the book got leaked!!!!!
Mozzarella 3: seasonal disasters:
“Mate you okay?” Lando’s voice tore Max out of his mindless staring. The alpha stood next to him, leaning on the rails.
“Yeah I’m fine, why?” Max replied, absentmindedly scratching his thigh.
“You’ve been scratching yourself like a maniac for these past two days, are you sure you don’t have fleas or something?” Lando asked, frowning as Max scratched his thigh again.
“Don’t be stupid, humans can’t have fleas, idiot,” Max mumbled, nodding towards the entrance of the paddock.
Free like a bird:
Charles Leclerc hated his job.
No, scratch that, he loved his job but hated the people that his job brought to him.
Scratch that as well.
He hated both.
RB Charles:
When Charles accepted RedBull’s offer, he didn’t think that it would include being frowned and glared at by their reserve driver. It never even crossed his mind, that Daniel out of all people would not be happy to see him in the free seat, as the other omega has always been nothing but friendly to Charles.
Tomato soup and beef carpaccio:
Max never really enjoyed eating at the pretentious Michelin star restaurants, instead opting for food delivery, but it seemed like Victoria was hellbent on dragging him out. Since he broke up with his girlfriend, he wasn’t really going out anymore, partly because he didn’t want to run into her anywhere.
Cuddle buddy AU:
Max stared at the announcement confused as hell. What the hell was a “cuddle buddy system” and why was it being implemented to racing, out of all things. He thought it was bullshit.
Anaconda cock Charl:
Max was in a club, his head blissfully empty of thoughts, only the buzz of gin filling his head. He lost track of his friends long ago, in between slamming back his drinks and dancing they slowly disappeared, and Max was left alone on the overcrowded dance floor. It was a fucking blessing if you’ve asked him.
Sweetheart:
When Max met Charles Leclerc when they were both kids on a dusty karting track somewhere in France, he thought the kid was a weirdo.
Lestappen as cats AU:
Max loved his life. Most of the time.
He was the king of the four room flat, residing at the sunny side of Monte Carlo, overlooking the bay. His living space was shared with two human slaves, the tall angry one and the short angry one, and a small yapping dog named Lewis. He spent his days lounging at the balcony, overlooking his kingdom. It was nice being a king, he lacked nothing and was treated like a god by his slaves.
Paladin Max AU:
Max always thought of their childhood spent together. The years were spent frolicking over fields and orchards, feasting on wild honey and kissing each other’s bruises, innocent yet loving like kids their age tend to be. Despite their similar temperaments, they chose vastly different careers.
To be honest, this is like a third of my wips, but these are the ones I am working at right now 😅
I would looove to see what @matchtaco and @jussst-lurking have been hiding from us hehe 👀
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mrs-monaghan · 10 months
Note
Oh No its all over, the cat it out of the bag, everyone knows about it now. We are gonna have to protect JK from his BF. LOL. Poor Jimin has really been pulling a Mariah Carey "I don't know her" with JK for months. Being coy about seeing JK. LMAO they tried all hiatus & almost succeeded, now an "in love & missing Jimin" JK slipped up and koreans picked up on it & its going viral. Not to mention a happy furbaby left his signature on JM too. They both ruined the plan. Just take it easy on him on JM, don't scold JK too hard. He's trying, he's just made of glass and not good at hiding. I am just gonna say this, JK deserves the biggest fucking hug man. He really does. He has broken a few times before and let his guard down, but this time, he probably didn't know he was talking loud (then again, maybe he 100% did know & that was his plan, which I am leaning toward this theory). I swear if Hybe says something. I'm gonna be pissed. And we will know if they did, if JK's current routine changes.
Why would Hybe say something? I'm i the only one who thinks this thing is getting blown out of proportion?
Fam, listen. We already knew this when Jimin showed up in short sleeves at the airport waving the injured arm around. Not a care in the world. Sure, he's right handed and its the hand he always waves with 😂😂 but Mimi wanted us to see that very big, scratch. I can bank on that 1300%
So this isn't even news. And now Kjikookers are mad at OP while Jikookers are pissing their pants. Guys. Relax. Chill. Is all good.
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U wanna freak out, freak out about Rosebowl or Hickeygate. That shit really happened. Yes. That's what I'm freaking out about.
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hollyhomburg · 1 year
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just read the new chapter and ong its so cute 😭 i want my own noodle too :( also i wonder if noodle will get along with everyone, i have a feeling he might like koo lmao
i love how everyone loves noodle <3 as for who noodle likes and who he doesn't like vs tollerates vs likes it goes as follows.
Tollerates: tae, jungkook
Dislikes: namjoon, jin, jimin, yoongi
Loves: m/c, Hobi,
i think that the extent to witch tae and noodle get along is that tae religiously avoids him and never tries to pet him, however- noodle does like how quiet tae is and will sit in the same room as tae without leaving. her desk is also a 10/10 nap spot espeically once the m/c puts a cat bed there- then noodle might tollerate a head scratch.
noodle sits on jk's lap if an only if he doesn't smell like the gym (too many alphas- yuck) or if he's about to have a seizure. it takes the pack a while to realize it but noodle will start to meow and incessantly try to herd the m/c towards jk about an hour before he has a seizure, and anyone else too. as well as sit on his chest in the night if he's going to have one while he sleeps.
as for hobi, noodle sleeps on his shoes, in his jacket if he leaves it, constatly curls around his feet at meal times or if he's watching tv. noodle even waits outside around the time that hobi gets home from work! or waits at the end of the street for him!
hobi doesn't get it at first and kinda treats noodle with kid gloves, but i think one time when he gets the flu noodle doesn't leave his side, constantly curling up on his chest or in his lap kneeding and purring and trying to relax him and after that he and hobi have a serious bond <3
noodle only lets jin get close when jin feeds him, will openly growl at namjoon until the m/c shushes him. noodle will run into the other room if jimin comes in it- avoids him like the litteral plauge. ocassionally tries to "gaurd" the m/c or hobi if he decides jimin is treatening enough. he also hates how much yoongi smells like the m/c- because the m/c should only smell like noodle in noodles mind 😤.
namjoon treats noodle with respect and in return noodle never swipes at him, however he has been known to also 'gaurd' the m/c against namjoon at times (usually when he hasn't washed off the scent of the hospital as much- noodle doesn't like the smell of death)
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sourtomatola · 1 year
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Jk Jk @feralmoonlight
No but really, this is incredibly self indulgent and I couldn't help but think of this post that caused this post while writing this
Hungry Moon and masochist reader
AO3 link
You awake from your nap and stretch. Moon had put you to bed earlier and you slept very well. You looked around the room he had left you in and listened. You could hear the breathing sounds.
He was still in the room.
You looked around and found the source. Despite not having Lungs, Moon had a tendency to emit a heavy breathing sound. His eyes glowed in the corner he stood in, staring at you hungrily. His frame is in a slightly hunched position, like a cat looking at something they’re preparing to pounce on.
You felt shivers run through your body. You love it when he wants to play.
“Prey…” He addresses you, causing goosebumps to form on your arms. He only used that pet name for you when he was hungry.
The thought made your mind race with excitement.
Your eyes wash over him, noticing drool dripping from his large sharp toothed grin. His long tongue whipped out and ran over his lips as he sized you up, as if trying to determine if he could swallow you whole or not.
You put your feet to the floor, looking directly at him. “Good morning Moon.” You say innocently, as if you hadn’t noticed the fierce predator-like look in his eyes. “I didn’t see you there.”
“You’re awake so soon…how cute.” He purrs, but doesn’t move from his spot. He’s resisting his urges. You can tell.
That just won’t do.
You casually scratch at your neck, pulling the collar of your shirt away from it to let him get a full view or your beating pulse. His heavy breathing gets louder, a slight growl accompanying it. He knows you’re teasing, testing him and his resolve.
Your heart starts to pound at the sound of his voice growling your name in an animalistic tone. You consider ignoring him, just to see what he’d do. You look up casually and look at him innocently. “Hmm? Yes Moon?” You asked cutely.
He is no longer standing, he has one hand on the floor. He really looks like he could break and attack you at any second. He looks wild, starving, and like you’re a feast he has been waiting days for.
“Moonie? Is something wrong?” You ask innocently.
He doesn’t answer right away. He stares, his eyes unblinking and the red lights shining brightly, solid and strong, like a lighthouse. “I’m…fine my prey.” He lies.
He is still resisting. You’ve almost got him to break. Your face is heating up from the thought of what he will do when he does snap. Will he hold you down? Will his grip on your arms cause bruising? Your heart could hardly take the anticipation. He needed one more push. And you knew just the thing for it.
You start to back away to the door slowly. His posture tenses up in anticipation. He knows what you’re planning. He wants it just as much as you do. He adjusts his footing slightly as he watches you. Every bit of his attention is on you, like a laser bearing holes into your soul. His tongue slowly runs across his bottom lip, bleeding drool down his faceplate.
“Do you like the idea of chasing me?” You whisper in a sultry voice. “Running me ragged until I can’t run anymore, holding me down and eating me alive?”
He lets out another feral growl, you can see him swallow in anticipation. You loved this. He loved this. Your teasing, your innocent acting.
You bite your lip in a teasing manner as you slowly reach for the doorknob and push the door open.
He stops moving entirely, the heavy breathing cease and all is silent. The air is heavy with anticipation of the quiet that fills the room. You can’t even hear his usual calming clicks and whirls from his inner mechanisms.
Finally, you take a deep breath and begin to run down the hall. You knew you couldn’t outrun him. You never could. But that’s what made it fun. Running as hard as you can, where will he catch you?
Almost immediately you hear the sound of animatronic footsteps chase after you. Your heart beats faster, the excitement and fear rushing through your veins. You could hear him. He was right behind you, about to pounce.
You turned the corner, and that is what ended the hunt. Just as you made it around, Moon used the wall as a springboard and threw himself on top of you, causing you both to skid on the smooth cement floor. You squealed in shock and rolled onto your back to meet Moons hungry gaze.
“I’ve caught you, my prey…” His voice rumbles through his chassis that’s pressed against your chest. The vibration made you shiver. His hands hold yours down as he watches the blood rush to your face. “Little prey~ I could just eat you up~” He giggles wickedly. Drool drips from his teeth, his tongue flickers out to lick it up, his lips now moist.
You let a whine escape your throat. Now he’s teasing you, he knows what you want. “M-moon…” You whimper softly.
“Mm, you look tired…maybe you should sleep, my prey.”  He smirked and leaned his faceplate into your neck. You tipped your head back, trying to give him better access. You could hardly take it! You wanted to feel his teeth sink deep into your flesh. You ragged breathing had you twitching against him as he set his lips to your skin.
He gave your neck a simple gentle kiss, before running the front of his teeth on your skin harmlessly. You squirm underneath him. His taunting is too much. You feel his drool drip into your hair as he sniffs around your flesh. He inhaling your scent and drinking it in.
“M-moon…!” You whine louder. “P-please!”
“Yes…Darling?” He giggled and ran his long tongue down your neck, making your breath hitch. “Do you need something? A bedtime story? A drink of water?”
You squirm and whimper. “P-please…stop teasing…” You said, arching your back into him.
“Teasing?” the bot asks innocently, his voice husky and irresistible. He knows exactly what he’s doing. What you want. He wants to hear you say it. His grip on your hands is tight, cause minimal pain, but enough you suspect they may bruise. “What do you mean my prey?”
“You want my blood don’t you? You’re hungry…” You ask, your face starting to heat up more from having to say it out loud. “P-please…bite me…”
“Hmm? Do I get to choose where?” He snickered and held one of your hands to his mouth, licking your fingers.
A violent shiver erupts through you at the sensation. “Mooon…” You whine pitifully, making him chuckle darkly. He looked over you for another second, sizing you up and letting a little more drool drip down your neck.
“You want me to taste you that bad?” He giggled and nuzzled his faceplate into your jawline. “It is so tempting, your blood is delicious. Do you want me to bite you my prey?”
“Yes, Yes! Please Moon, I want to feed you!” You cry out desperately. “I want to feel your teeth in my flesh!” Your hands tighten on his, trying to cling to him. You’re sweating now, the exhaustion from the chase catching up from you mixed with the hot emotions surging through you.
The animatronic finally breaks through your skin with his teeth, letting a little blood drip and mix with his saliva before drinking greedily. His hesitation and care gone now as he ravages your neck.
You cry out and moan loudly, not caring who hears or sees at this point. The pain and pleasure rushes through your body, making you squirm from under him. Shiver wrack through your body with each gulp and suck you hear him make next to your head. You hear him growl and bite again, cause more unnecessary damage.
He knows you love it.
The absolute helplessness of the situation, being pinned to the floor and fed on makes the experience that much more enjoyable. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you’d be helpless to it.
“Oh, isn’t this what you wanted?” He smirked as he kept drinking, feasting on you. “My naughty little prey?”
You’re breathless in trying to respond, barely getting any syllables out as another shiver erupts through your body.
Finally he pulls away before taking too much blood, his long tongue leaving a searing trail of spit as he dragged it over your wounds.
Your breathing starts to slow down as you start calming down. He pulls away a little and looks you in the eyes, his gaze looking calm, kinder. “Have fun?”  He grinned.
You nod breathlessly.
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ladyvesuvia · 2 years
Note
peter parker angst where both peter and reader feel insecure about their relationship???
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by nine
PAIRING: peter parker x gn!reader
WORDS: 1.6k
REMINDER(S): wrote this to get out of reading slump. kinda messy. not my best but wtvr anw relationship insecurities. angst no comfort no happy endings i hate happy endings boo hoo go cry about it jk i love my fluff lover babies
A/N: imagine any peter u want life is short be a delusional little bitch
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It’s so easy to love a hero. Being with a masked one has its own charm; one being the constant feeling of gratitude and positive disbelief because, after all, you were loving the hero. And he loved you back. You.
But sometimes, the cons outweigh everything else where you’d sometimes find yourself sitting on a chair you forced yourself to carry from the small space you could call the dining room all the way out to your apartment balcony, waiting for a little figure somewhere in the distance swinging from one building to another.
The cake you ordered for yourself had started losing its spark that you took three spoonfuls before deciding your appetite had disappeared.
There was still no sign of the same masked ‘hero.’
“I’ll be there by nine,” he had told you yesterday.
About a couple minutes ago, just a few seconds before nine, you closed your eyes, hoping that when you opened it, a little jumpscare would bring back your appetite.
Nothing had happened. And it’s been quite some time now.
You checked your phone, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man could be a decent enough boyfriend to send a text.
You stood up from your chair, leaning on the railing and checking left and right, looking for any sign of him.
“I’ll be there, alright?” he had told you just the day before. He’d been on the railing you’re now leaning on, and you so badly had wanted to take the mask from his sweaty palms and rip it up. “I promise.”
“Do you really?” The sun was only starting to set yesterday during this exchange, and his smile looked a lot more promising in that light.
“I really,” he nodded aggressively. “Oh, I really, really, really really.”
“Nerd.”
“A nerd who makes promises.”
And here you are, waiting for him to fulfill that promise. You opened your phone, begrudgingly ringing his phone.
“Shitty promises,” you thought to yourself as you checked the time. 21:39.
Are you expecting anything? you asked yourself, slowly antagonizing your own motives and his. Expecting what? For him to press pause on screaming damsels and tell perpetrators to stop their crimes just so he could answer some random person’s phone call?
You ended the call before it could head straight to voicemail. What even was the point anymore? You moved away from the railing, pulling your chair along with you while staring at the other empty chair across the tiny patio table you’d also carried hours ago.
You had come back to pull the other chair you’d brought out for him, but he had just landed on the railing you had just been leaning on a second ago.
He had his mask off, but he still had it crumpled in his hand. You stared at him for a solid three seconds before deciding it wasn’t worth your time, yanking the chair away and carrying it with one hand while using the other to open the door.
“[Y/N]—”
“I can carry it just fine,” you said with no entertainment whatsoever.
“I know it’s late, I’m sorry, but I—”
You dropped the chair as gently as you could so as to not wake anyone. “Was saving the world, what else could it be?”
“I mean, it’s just the city. Sorry. I mean—”
You crossed your arms. “You said you’d be here by—”
Peter scratched his nose with the hand he was holding his mask with, adjusting his seat on your railing. “—Nine, I know. It’s just that—”
“Some cat got stuck up in a tree? Some— I don’t even know anymore! And frankly, I don’t even care. I just want you to be here when you say you will.”
“And I’m here,” he said, his brows furrowing. It’s so strange seeing his face to that thing where he’s at war with himself.
It was the one of the many things that got you all head over heels for him the first time you knew there was more to him than his charm. It had been so funny seeing him get all confused and agitated at the same time for a second in class and looking all genius the second he got the right answer.
“Yeah, like, an hour later. I just want to sleep right now, alright?”
“No, no, let’s celebrate your birthday.” Peter hopped off the railing, his hand on yours before taking the chair with him. He sat down on it, looking at you with those god forsaken terribly convincing eyes you just wanted to be convinced by.
“I don’t even get to hold your hand anymore,” you muttered under your breath. He heard that still.
Peter drew closer, looking up at you as he took your hands into his, and you could only feel the texture of his suit. It feels like a stranger’s.
You looked back at him. He’s waiting for you tk say something, and it took you a long time to realize you’d been waiting for yourself to say something, too.
You obliged. “Do you want to end things? You can just say so.”
“What? No! Why would you—? Do — er — do you?”
“I — it’s not that — it’s just that you say that you’re going to do this but then you don’t and then you say all of this is worth your time and yet you can’t even give me ten minutes—!”
His brows furrowed even more. “I am giving you—”
“No, let me finish,” you say with a louder voice than you had intended before realizing you hadn’t gathered enough words to continue on. You look everywhere else but his eyes. You weren’t gonna do that now.
He’s waiting, and he’s letting you talk. So talk, you told yourself.
You cleared your throat, looking up. “It’s just that” — you swallowed the lump in your throat, your pride staying up, threatening to burst — “you tell me all these . . . these great things and make all these hopeful promises but you’re . . . you’re Spider-Man, y-you know?”
“What do you mean?” The moment his bright demeanor dropped, you knew this wasn’t going to end well. Was this even him? Or is it some other Spider-Man? Some other Peter Parker, perhaps? You looked at him, taking a tiny glimpse to make sure.
It is him. Only that his eyes were shining, and not in the way you wanted it to. Yours were probably shining, too.
See, dating the masked hero of the city is great. Wonderful, even. Nobody knew, of course, but it was the tiny little secret that kept it alive. But it’s also the same one that would kill it.
You saw it coming. Heck, he probably saw it, too.
You took a deep breath.
He stood up. “Let’s just celebrate your birthday, [Y.N], okay?”
You pretend not to see him raising his hand only to put it down.
It was your turn to take a breather. You leaned against the railing, the hum of the busy city doing nothing to relieve you from any of this.
Do I read too much into everything you do? Do you think of anything I do at all? Do you want to end things? Are you just waiting for me to do it?
“No, I can’t— I can’t just get some cake and ‘celebrate’ with you right now, Spi— Peter.” Even his name feels like uncharted territory. You pretend not to have seen him flinch at the uncertainty. “Are we really cut out for this?”
You expected him to try and find his words, ask what it is you thought the two of you were not cut out for, or at least assure you that you were, and that he’d make it up next time.
Anything but “I don’t know.”
You should’ve been angered, you knew that. But you didn’t know, either. “Me too.”
Silence.
You didn’t even realize he was leaning on the railing right beside you, looking out at the city. The only light right now was the inconsistent pattern of condominium room lights open; at least, those not covered by thick linen curtains.
There were also the countless cars passing by, but you paid no mind to the city at this moment because this could be the last time you’d ever see his face again.
“I don’t think we are,” you managed to confess. He only nodded in answer, but there was constant bickering in his head. “I’d say I need more time to think but I . . . I’ve had quite a few to do so and maybe it’s better if we just. . .”
You waited for him to cut you off and disagree.
He didn’t.
He’s made up his mind, hasn’t he?
You took a deep breath once more. “It’s better if we just stay away from each other.”
“For a while?” Peter asked, hopeful.
“No.”
“Oh, I. . .” He looked away. “I’m sorry. Okay. That — that makes sense. I understand.” He didn’t.
You changed your mind. It was easy to love Peter Parker. But loving Spider-Man? Oh, what a tragedy it was. The sometimes reeked of always.
It was always waiting for something, and it was always more tiring than exhilarating. You so badly wanted to ask him why can’t things just go back to the way it was, cry into his chest and deliriously confess that you just wish that spider hadn’t done everybody else in the city a stupid favor and that you just wanted your Peter back.
But that would be too selfish, and so you waited.
“Do you want me to go?” Please tell me no, he thought as he said so.
No. “Yes.”
And just like that, the anonymous hero was gone and with him your best friend.
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poosi tight poosi clean poosi fresh ty for getting me out of the slump a bit nonnie i love you
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jiminrings · 1 year
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Okay, but if you're taking request, I would love to read 478 Jk arguing with the cat now TT
478: drabble
alternatively, jungkook will not be the bigger person :|
[ 478 masterlist ]
You’re spending a lot more time at home.
With Jimin literally pushing you to go into maternity leave much, much earlier than you’d like because your bump’s already starting to show (the stylists can’t work their way around and CG makes the whole thing tedious), you’re given a hefty insight to what unfolds in your home when you aren’t there.
It turns out that Jungkook vacuums everywhere every single day and he even turns the lights off just to maximize the outrageously expensive vacuum’s laser technology. He also tends to your garden that you didn’t even know existed until an hour ago, making you realize that your husband owns more aprons than neckties.
Really, Jungkook’s more than ecstatic to have you with him because this way, he can take good care of you. He’s done his research (he has about thirteen accounts across different parent forums), he spent a good hour asking your doctor what he could cook you for your meals alone, and he even has a dedicated binder just to make notes about everything.
Without a doubt, he’s completely dedicated and serious about your whole pregnancy — but so is your cat, apparently.
“Let me get this straight,” you clear your throat, trying to keep your face straight because the moment you let it show that you’re even the least bit amused, you know that Jungkook would already whine about you not taking him seriously. “Miso, our cat, tries to suffocate you in your sleep?”
“Yes,” he nods, lips set in a straight line. “I’m telling you, she’s doing it on purpose! She didn’t do it to me today because you’re here but I promise! She puts all her weight on my face whenever I’m napping. Or every time you get home and you’re in the shower, she tries to lunge at me whenever I hand you your towel,” Jungkook adds, a frustrated sigh leaving him when your face still doesn’t budge. You’re too calm, the distress for his very real (!!) situation being non-existent. “Baby, I swear. Miso’s been trying to kill me since we came back from your ultrasound!”
There’s a laugh that keeps building in your throat and you have to keep covering your face discreetly with your hand just to keep your amusement at bay, the way your body slightly trembles in silent laughter keeping Miso entertained while she lays on your tummy.
“What should we do, Kook?” you sigh, avoiding eye contact because you know you’d lose it when you look to your husband’s blown-out ones. “Do we file a restraining order? Get a warrant? What do you want to do?”
“Scold her! Tell her to stop hating me,” he whines like it’s the most obvious answer everyone should think of, his eyebrows furrowed when you remain still.
“Jungkook,” you try, the sly snort that slips past you bordering into a laugh that you can’t contain. You throw your head back in laughter but it never touches the armrest of the sofa because Miso moved at the speed of light just to put herself there, the back of your head only going against her chunky body and fur.
“I’m not trying to make you laugh!”
“Because you’re a natural.”
“I did my research, okay? It’s-…” Jungkook’s just about ready to throw himself to the floor and roll around in frustration when you interrupt him, your cheery laughs highlighted by the way Miso keeps rubbing her forehead against your cheek.
“You’re carrying Reddit on your shoulders at this point.”
“I didn’t only search on Reddit,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. “They say cats get protective of their pregnant owners and that’s sweet, I get it. But what did I do?”
Before you can even rack your head for an answer to both indulge and poke fun at your husband, Miso meows loudly with her eyes turning into slits at Jungkook, her tail still caressing your hair.
“Aw, she’s answering you,” you coo, the mere scratch of your hand on her head making her succumb and sprawl out on your chest.
“You’re a bitch,” Jungkook spits, narrowing his eyes at the cat who growls the moment he opened his mouth. You’re unsure of how many times this (read: Jungkook not being the bigger person when it comes to his so-called fighting with your cat) happened but you don’t even want to know, gasping at the suddenness.
“Jungkook!” you hiss, covering Miso’s ears as if she was a child. Your husband makes a way to surprise you everyday but not like this, you’ve figured early-on.
“What?! She probably just cussed me out too!” 
He tries to pry Miso off from your chest but she hisses, putting out a paw to try and swipe at him. Jungkook recoils like he’s been shot and he’s already halfway across the living room when he puts his head on his hands, scoffing loudly.
“You see that? She just tried to kill me, again!”
You do see it in a way. You see how Miso’s grown even more protective of you and how she’s practically gotten bitchy at Jungkook overnight, but you don’t see how she’s specifically set out to get him. It’s an amusing display of domesticity, one you didn’t know you’ve been missing out on all along.
“Shhh. Don’t take Miso away,” you swat at his hands when he hovers about you. “My boobs are sore. She’s helping me.”
Sure enough, Miso’s kneading on your chest, even laying her body on your bump with her warmth that keeps you content. She won’t stop purring either, her headbutts against your stomach making you more attached with her.
“I can help you with that too! In fact, I’d be better,” Jungkook argues, mouth agape when you roll your eyes at him. You do it so visibly and loudly, he’s stood frozen until you call out to him.
“You have beef with a cat, Jungkook. Let it rest,” you hum. “Go get her food. Now, please.”
Your husband huffs yet he obliges, going into the kitchen with a stomp on his step and his not-so-quiet mutters of how Miso’s a little gremlin who he shouldn’t have picked up on the street all those years ago.
Jungkook sets down the food bowl with one (1) singular pellet of catfood in the middle, the glare in his face dead-set until a smug smirk settles on it when Miso takes notice.
You’re just about to groan until you hear Miso’s high-pitched yowl and Jungkook’s equally as annoyed mocking, flinching momentarily when she stands up but only to stretch and not attack him like he thought he would —
Miso’s gonna do it later, of course, only when you’re not looking.
.
.
thee original ask
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ladykatie512 · 1 year
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WIP Whatever-Day-It-Is
i got tagged this past week by three people (@ghostoracle, @seraphfighter, and @beammeupbroadway, ily3 and tysm ❤️) to share a wip. i guess it’s time to let the cat out of the bag? here’s the first scene of the sequel i’m writing for that vampire!johnny silverhand fic i posted last week, ptolemaea🧛
tagging everyone on tumblr with all of the pressure (jk, but if you see this and wanna share something, please do ✨)
She could feel eyes on her. Ever since she had brought that stranger home, the feeling of being stalked never went away, not completely. For the first couple of weeks, it had started to recede. She would feel the prickling fear less and less. Even so, she hadn’t left her apartment when it wasn’t necessary, especially not at night.
V was alone in her apartment, cooped up with a cup of spicy instant noodles and an open bottle of Broseph on her coffee table. She wasn’t sleepy beforehand; she’d only done a straightforward gig that afternoon, something barely enough to put food in her belly that night. Then suddenly, her eyes were drooping, and she heard her front door unlock and swing open.
V struggled to open her eyes again; that prickling feeling raised the hairs on the back of her neck, but abruptly felt too sleepy to care. Her head lulled to the side, and her cup of noodles tilted dangerously to the side in her loose grip– before it was softly taken and set aside.
A body slid in behind her on the couch, left arm snaking around her limp form as their chest settled behind her right shoulder.
“Evenin’ baby girl,” she heard a soft, smoky voice mutter unto the top of her head, and suddenly the foreboding sense of dread vanished. It was replaced with something soothing, like a balm over a painful burn.
V was barely conscious at that moment, and could merely hum contently in response as she felt a hand brush through her hair, pushing her wispy bangs back from her forehead. She tried to open her eyes as the scent of bitter citrus and musky wood met her nose, and tried once more as that left hand slid up her ribs and gently groped her breast through her shirt. Beneath her blanket cocoon, she was only in a t-shirt and underwear since she had no plans for company or leaving until the next day.
“You miss me?” the familiar voice asked softly, darkness hiding behind the innocent query. She could feel a short beard scratching against the side of her face as the voice whispered to her, “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout me. I could fuckin’ feel it.” The left hand gave her breast another harder squeeze, and her body sighed in response. “Drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy,” the owner of the voice kissed the shell of her ear after, as if he were punctuating his statement.
The hand under the blanket with her was trailing south now, and she felt her thighs tingling from the cold metal that reached between them, cupping the juncture where her legs met. The palm rubbed over her underwear, creating gentle friction beneath the fabric. Again, Valerie sighed, her hips twitching upward involuntarily.
“Really shouldn’t be sleepin’ on your couch, sweetheart,” she felt teeth grazing her earlobe before the voice added, “Let’s go to bed, huh?”
The palm left her, leaving much to be desired. Next, she felt the blanket get tossed off her before being pulled into the stranger’s lap and lifted into the air.
That was the last thing she remembered from that evening before the familiar droning of her alarm roused her from sleep. Her limbs felt lifeless and heavy, and she could barely open her eyes. She was spread eagle, sheets tangled between her legs as she lay on her back, trying to focus on her ceiling.
Once again, she was unbearably thirsty, but she may have passed out a few more times, before she finally mustered up the strength to roll to her side and shut off her alarm.
Half past one. It was half past fucking one in the afternoon. At least this time, she did have something to drink at her bedside, an energy drink, too, at that. How old it was was anyone’s guess– she wasn’t fond of Spunky Monkey since the high sugar content always gave her the jitters.
She reached out for the can and picked it up, trying to crane her head so she wouldn’t have to sit up and take a drink. Only, as she brought the can to her lips, all she was met with was cool metal. Confused, V pulled the can away to inspect the mouth but found it wasn’t open. Blinking at it in confusion, she shifted to prop herself up before pulling the tab. The fizzy drink bubbled up in a spray as she did, and then she finally took a sip. The tangly liquid flooded down her throat as quickly as she could gulp without making herself sick from the carbonation. V tried not to think about how suddenly a brand new can of Spunky Monkey was on her nightstand as she drank the entire contents. She must have bought it instead of her usual Cirrus or Tiancha by accident and forgotten.
When she finally dragged herself out of bed, it was to wander into her kitchen to get another drink, because one can of Spunky Monkey hadn’t cut it. For once, she was craving actual water. She doubted she could scrape up the creds to buy an entire gallon, but even a small, eight-ounce bottle sounded positively divine.
Twelve eddies lighter and one tiny plastic bottle crushed in her right palm, V noticed something odd. Her blanket from last night had been neatly folded and placed over the back of her couch, which wasn’t typical for her unless she had company over. It was folded inside out, too; the fuzzy side was on the outside instead of the smoother side. She tried to think how tired or drunk she must have been before realizing her cup of instant noodles and bottle of beer were missing from her coffee table.
The crushed plastic bottle dropped out of V’s hand as she turned and ran, albeit dizzily and weakly, into her bathroom. Her left palm slammed on the light switch as her right turned on her mirror, and after another half second, she turned around, away from her reflection, with her hands over her mouth.
The mark was back. It had disappeared only a day or two after her fever dream of an encounter with Johnny, leaving her skin perfectly intact. But the two dark purple bruises were back, marring the side of her neck in almost exactly the same place.
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Text
wicked, m | jjk, myg
full title: wicked (good boy gone bad) drabble series; inspired by TXT’s album minisode 2: thursday’s child
pairing(s): jungkook x reader x (plus a lil) yoongi
summary: He used to be a good boy, but now he knew what that really meant – being an obedient, dumb, naïve dog to a liar. Thanks to a combination of sex, chains, and rock-n-roll, that wasn't who he was anymore. Jeon Jungkook has gone bad. Just watch him.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you dislike overabundant swearing, maybe skip this one; D/s threesome smut (fem reader, black leather collars and chain leashes, bondage, hair pulling, cowgirl, choking [note: Yoongi chokes JK and yoonkook choke each other], so much saliva /spitting kink, scratching, m-receiving oral, handjob, doggy); non-idol!AU - sub!Jungkook x goth, dom!reader x sub!Yoongi; Jungkook's POV to Yoongi’s POV
When I heard TXT's 'Good Boy Gone Bad', it immediately reminded me of collared!JK, who suffered a bad breakup, went to a party to snort cocaine, but instead he got fucked by a chick with a single white contact and daddy issues... oop. Yoongi's involved (of course). And they have choked each other before.
--
anger. the second stage of grief
-
A hand gripped his chin and shoved it up. Long callused fingers dug into his cheeks as his eyes rolled back, seeing only a blur of black and white. His chest felt like it was clawed open. His skin was covered with layer upon layer of red-hot lines, and those fingernails were digging in again, adding more, more fire, more marks, more pain.
It was too much.
It was just right.
This broken feeling is not too bad.
He tried to move his head and found the other hand grip the back of his skull, clutching a handful of his thick hair. Fingers twisting in between the strands, then curling in and grasping, pulling, ensnaring him with hurt.
“Stay still,” was growled above him, heavy and raspy. Familiar.
I like it.
He gasped and let his tongue hang, moaning as he felt wet muscle stroke his throat, hot lips pressing into his shaking Adam’s apple.
I want this.
“Do you miss the collar, my pet?” the voice in front of him purred, wicked and sweet. The owner of that voice was the cause of the marks he bore now. They were temporary, but the raw feeling was seared into his memory, a feeling for him to savor forever.
Watch me.
Jeon Jungkook opened his eyes, looking up to Min Yoongi, the one whose hands were gripping his head and locking it in place. Those narrowed dark-brown orbs glanced down at him. Cold and cat-like. Around older male’s pale neck was a thick, black leather collar that held a metal silver ring in the center, dangling above the Jungkook’s head. Jungkook’s eyes went to it, staring at the swaying silver catching the light of the bedroom.
Yoongi leaned down.
Let the cold metal touch Jungkook’s sweaty forehead, sending icy shock followed by surging jealousy through his burning veins. The collar ring lightly bounced against his brows in the steady rhythm that was the brutal force of hips smacking into his crotch, slick walls constricting around his rock-hard cock while his arms were bound, his clenched fists pressing to the small of his own back.
Jungkook tried to speak but he couldn’t.
His words were being snuffed out by his own moans.
Yoongi clicked his tongue and lifted his head. He seemed disappointed. Annoyed. The long-sleeved white shirt his hyung was wearing was ripped down the center, the edges jagged and torn, revealing his collarbones and part of the pale chest underneath.
“What good is givin’ you a chance to talk if you don’t take it?” Yoongi scoffed, his Daegu satoori adding a rough depth to his dangerous tone.
The hand on Jungkook’s chin slid down.
Break me more.
Those rough fingertips pressed down on the sides of his neck the same time Yoongi yanked Jungkook’s head up by his hair, forcing him to look forward as his blood began to thin out.
Just break me.
Yoongi choked him as Jungkook stared into the eyes of his favorite kind of pain, the eyes of the woman in black, the eyes that glittered with devious intent, the eyes that didn’t match. One real iris, one fake white iris. A contact lens. She cocked her head. Her clothes were still mostly on while she rolled her hips, thrusting his stiff length inside her tight heat. Nimble pink tongue flickering out, dancing against the side of her lips. Her hands splayed out over his inflamed chest, her pointed black fingernails digging into his pecs.
Fucking him on the black leather bench at the base of her bed like he was a piece of meat, not bothering to give him the grace of expensive sheets and soft mattress under his rigid, straining thighs.
She was grinning.
A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.
She slashed down his sides, tearing airless gasp leaking out of his throat that morphed into an obscene moan as her hands hit the bench, the forward position allowing her to put more force in her fucking. Her torn-up band tee hanging down, breasts still covered in a black satin bra underneath, not even giving him a view for his unfocused eyes to lock on, the chain on her skirt jangling, smacking him and her, her juicy thighs squeezing his hard ones.
“Choke him harder, Yoongi,” she hissed, licking her teeth, open-mouthed smirk right in his face.
The pale hand around his neck took more blood away.
He craved the taste of pain and he knew it.
I like this altered face of mine.
Lightheaded and suspended in air, pleasure and pain flaring up his stomach, into his burning lungs, snaking around what was left of his heart that was full of scars from someone else, from another time where Jungkook believed in love, but love only gave him stress and pain, so now he gouged it out with blackout lust.
I like this me.
Higher and higher, less and less air, seconds like hours, ropes cutting into his skin, her slick, sweet-smelling cum dripping down between his tense legs, staring into Yoongi’s dark eyes that only grew darker in the shadows, his hyung bringing his face close to Jungkook’s panting-open mouth, that low whisper a command not to be defied.
“Cum.”
I like being bad.
Yoongi dug his fingers into Jungkook’s hair and pulled back hard.
It all crashed down, choked wail tearing out of him, his back arching to the extreme, stinging hurt from his head shooting down to meet pain crisscrossed over his chest, down to meet searing throbs of ecstasy and tense, straining legs, his hips jerking up strongly and pumping his orgasm out in short fierce jolts, spilling into the condom and deep inside the woman in black.
Airless, bloodless, suspended in pleasure.
For a singular, isolated millisecond, Jeon Jungkook was in heaven.
Kill me, just kill me.
Yoongi released him.
Air punched into his lungs and Jungkook’s head snapped back, pathetic whine mixing with coughing, held up by Yoongi’s hand behind his head, the other now between his shoulder blades, the powerful pulsing of her pussy forcing blinding bliss to interrupt his pain, helplessly falling apart to her grinding hips, her satisfied sigh drifting over him, hot breath against his burning, clawed-up skin. Yoongi pushed Jungkook’s lolling head up since unable to do it himself, panting, struggling to breathe, his limbs like lead from the high of his orgasm, his vision focusing, finding what he was looking for.
Those eyes.
Right iris real, left iris fake white.
She leaned down and licked his heaving chest, leaking saliva all over his marked skin.
Jungkook moaned, leaning into it as Yoongi’s hand moved from his hair and onto his collarbone, sliding down, graceful fingers following the dripping spit, spreading the slippery saliva all over, tongue and touch tracing the red lines and circling his nipples, and Jungkook’s hips thrust up into her even though the condom needed to be replaced, but he didn’t care, he didn’t care anymore, he just didn’t care.
His hyung snickered at his reaction.
“So needy.”
That’s right. I need this.
Up his trembling neck, and then she grabbed his chin and spat into his mouth, slick liquid sliding down his tongue and into his throat, and he greedily swallowed it all with a wanton moan. This was not the future his naïve past self had dreamed of back then. He couldn’t even remember what he wanted. Now? Now he was tattooed, pierced, chained. Tied up, scratched up, all kinds of fucked-up and Jungkook never wanted it to stop, never wanted to be let go, never wanted it to end, his kind of forever now was this kind of never.
He killed him.
The old, good Jungkook killed, replaced by this new, bad him.
-
“You really have changed, Jeon Jungkook.”
He almost didn’t recognize that voice. That voice used to mean everything to him. Everything. Nervousness and tenderness, heart on his sleeve, precious smiles and laughs, then creeping doubts, uncertain nights, staring at himself, picking at his face, swallowing his heart and wagging his tail for something that was all shattering slowly before him, all make-believe, all in the name of love.
But love was a lie.
Jungkook turned his head slowly, his black hair shrouding part of his vision in this dim nightclub, staring down at the one he used to call love, darling, one and only.
How stupid he was.
I loved that lie.
He tilted his head.
“Who are you?” he said to his ex-girlfriend, hollow and dead.
But not anymore.
She scowled, clad in a tight rose-colored chiffon minidress and dainty nude stilettos, jerking her head up and down at his appearance. Turning up her nose at him. Disapproval all over her delicate, pretty features, tossing her long, curled hair over her shoulder as she took in his distressed black and white wide-striped sweater with zippers at the shoulders, tight black leather pants, and thick-soled, silver-studded boots.
His neck clinked, heavy and weighted by a black leather collar and silver chain leash.
“You look like a dirty, mangy dog,” she spat.
Those words used to hurt him. She would say that when his shirt was untucked or if his jeans were ripped. Little things that did not match up with the heavy disdain in her voice, sending him into a wave of rocketing panic as he immediately tried to correct himself, trying to be the person she wanted instead of himself.
Was I ever myself?
Now, Jungkook found that those words barely stung.
He didn’t have a heart to feel them anymore.
He stuck his hands in his pockets, the chain leash dangling in front of him, leather handle hitting his thigh.
“And you look like the fuckin’ whore you always were,” Jungkook replied, slow and bored.
The old him wouldn’t have said something so cruel. The old him would have cared about her feelings, even though she hurt him countless times, knowing how fragile he was and dropping him over and over, leaving him to pick up the pieces, blaming himself every single time, believing it was him that lacked the understanding, believing that she must be right because she loved him, believing in the lie that was I love you, but there was a lie in believe, and Jungkook knew that now.
Her face contorted, painting dishonest injury over her scorning expression.
“How could you say something like that, Jungkook?” she pleaded, wretched with crocodile tears. “I came all the way to the city to find you and tell you I still love you.”
He had believed it every single time, back then, but that was the past.
“Come home.”
Her pretty hand outstretched, pampered and polished.
“I love you. We can make it right.”
Honeyed words that reeked of sewage.
He raised an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes.
I’m free now.
“Find another dirty, mangy dog to wag their tail at you,” Jungkook growled, the expansion of his neck from his deepening voice hitting the sides of the collar, causing the attached chain to clink and sway by his hips. “You’re uglier than I remember.”
The façade dissipated and she stared at him, enthralled, glassy eyes glittering with grotesque lust.
“I would have kept you if I knew you were going to get hot and sexy,” she breathed. She chuckled, a hideous smirk eating at her face, looking him up and down, unabashed, an object in her eyes. “Who paid for your body tonight? I’ll double it.”
She winked.
“For old time’s sake and charity.”
He let himself feel the anger. Relish in it. Become it. Harness it.
“Even if I was a prostitute,” he snarled, raising his chin. “No amount of money could convince me to touch your parasitic, STI-infested, flat ass.”
He could see the anger was rising now, but she was pushing it down, plastering a fake, sick smile to her face as her shoulders tensed, taking a step towards him, pulling herself to her full height, forcing out pitched laughing to mask her rage at his dismissal. Hilariously, it seemed to be the last adjective that pissed her off the most.
“Come on now, Jungkook,” she cooed, disgusting, prancing her fingers in the air. “Of course, we’re just joking.”
“I’m not joking,” he retorted. “I mean every word.”
Her expression cracked, fury leaking through.
“Tch, I don’t even know why I bother talking to you,” she snapped, clenching her jaw. “You’re thick-skulled and useless. There was never anything good about you except using your dick, and even that I found better replacements. But since you’re so pathetic,” she chuckled darkly, eyeing the hanging leash by his hips. “I don’t need your permission to remind you I’m the best pussy you’ll ever have.”
Her hand shot out.
Jungkook yanked his hands out of his pockets, but he was too late.
Another hand shot between them, snatching the handle of the chain leash next to Jungkook’s crotch. It twisted and slapped the back of his ex’s hand with the leather strap, so hard that the sound cracked through the loud music and drunken conversation.
“Ow!”
The screech of pain was so loud that the club fell silent.
“Get your dirty, mangy hands off my precious pet.”
A gruff growl, the sharpened tone of a predator.
The woman in black.
Leather jacket, too many zippers. Underneath, a bra with a mesh shirt over it. Shockingly short skirt adorned with hanging silver chains. Shredded tights and knee-high boots with a tall platform and high heel, causing her to tower over the other woman. Usually, she had a smirk or a grin. Demonic, but pleasing in its own way.
Not now.
His ex-girlfriend clutched her hand, gawking at the ice-cold gaze of one real iris, one white contact.
“You– You bitch!”
All of a sudden, Jungkook felt his contained irritation morph and burst into white-hot wrath. He did not care much about himself, but to say something so careless… he didn’t care if she was a girl. He didn’t care if he used to say I love you to her. He didn’t care that being the bigger person meant that he should back up and walk away.
Jungkook wanted to ram his knee into his ex-girlfriend’s face until she was completely unrecognizable.
Before he could do so, the woman in black sucked in her cheek with a loud popping sound, head cocked as she scrutinized the other woman. “Yeah, so? I’m a bitch. Congratulations, you got eyes,” she sneered, her voice getting deeper, slipping into her satoori.
His ex-girlfriend snapped her head at him, glaring, but Jungkook could see it in her wide eyes.
Fear.
He felt the anger bleed down, feeling a strange sort of satisfaction at seeing that fear.
“Yah, Jeon Jungkook! What’s this? You need a girl to protect you now because you’re so weak and pathetic? You’re even more pitiful than I thou–”
Another crack blasted through the stilled air of the nightclub.
His ex-girlfriend screamed, cowering back.
The woman in black rolled her eyes. “Wow, what a damn baby. All I did was hit my own hand and you’re the one cryin’ over nothin’,” she mocked, lightly tapping the leather handle in her palm. “Look here, you’re noisy and frankly quite hideous even though your parents worked so hard to make you pretty on the outside,” she grunted, shaking her head. “Guess if you’re full of shit, it comes outta your ass and mouth, huh?”
Jungkook knew he shouldn’t be amused at the dumbstruck look on his ex’s face, but he was already smirking.
“Get out. Your spoiled ass doesn’t belong here,” the woman in black hissed.
Strangely, his ex-girlfriend seemed to compose herself, gritting her teeth and backing up. Straightened her skirt and put on her crocodile sniffles, glaring accusingly, pointing to her now reddened hand. “I’ll have you arrested for assault, you slut!”
With a barking laugh, the woman in black doubled over. “Hahahaha, yeah?” Hands on her chest, pushing the mesh shirt into her cleavage. “But if I’m such a slut, I’ve probably slurped every policeman’s dick in this city. The handcuffs are just a kinky touch now,” she snickered, ticking her head like a curious weasel, vicious grin widening. “Come on, if you have a plan, you have to do better than that.”
But there was something wrong, because the woman in the rose-pink dress was not backing down, deadly glee overtaking her expression.
“Watch–” Jungkook started, but the leash was suddenly dropped.
“You thought I came alone, didn’t you?” his ex-girlfriend sniggered. She waved her hand and several men slipped out of the crowd to stand behind her. Chiseled jaws, one-size-too-small polo shirts, pressed khakis. “As if.”
Man, this girl is fuckin’ stupid.
Jungkook glanced at the woman in black.
She was not afraid.
“Ho.” A low chuckle, looking at each of those pampered faces. “You that good?”
He could see the slow, demonic grin forming on her lips now.
A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.
Jungkook didn’t bother to move. There were five guys and his one pathetic ex-girlfriend that was moving behind them, all versus the woman in black who was removing her leather jacket, tossing it behind her. He caught it, carefully folding it in his hands.
One real iris, one white iris, all danger.
Raised her hand, beckoning them forward.
“Come at me,” she growled, low and treacherous. “Bring it on.”
His ex-girlfriend glared at him, grisly triumph twisting her facial features. “Last chance to save your monster girlfriend,” she jeered.
He shrugged, the chain leash swinging. Then he raised his chin, bouncing it once, ticking his head from side to side.
“Hm, maybe look around you first before you do something stupid.”
And now, now they finally looked around, finally realizing the club was dead silent, because every single face was turned towards the outsiders. Leather, vinyl, mesh, too much makeup and too many tattoos, pale faces edged in black, watching, even the bartender clutching a beer bottle and the band on tables, holding their instruments, squinting down at these idiots that thought it was a good idea to harass the Boss, not only the owner of the music studio the band rented, but also a constant financial supporter of the night club they were standing in.
The woman in black looked exasperated, rolling her eyes.
“You serious? Are you gonna let me beat up at least one of them?” She pointed at one of the primly dressed men, waving her finger around. “Come on, his nose already looks broken. If I break it again, insurance will cover it instead of him paying out-of-pocket!”
“Come on, Boss. Your dad is gonna be sad if you get hurt,” the bassist of the band chuckled, jumping down.
“Papa can go cry into his gambling money and nurse his sugar babies,” she growled irritably, taking a step forward. “Fuck ya’ll. Imma get at least one punch in for fun.”
Shing!
She jerked back, the gleam of a silver sword reflecting off her eyes.
“Can’t let you do that,” said a deep, raspy voice.
Her head turned, facing cold, cat-like eyes.
“Yoongi.”
Min Yoongi smirked, open-mouthed and pleased. Tongue between his teeth. Long black hair framing his cheekbones, pale skin glowing in the overhead lights. He purred her name back, tilting the traditional sword to reflect off her full lips.
“Lookin’ kissable tonight, Boss.”
The tips of her cheekbones flushed pink at his hyung’s comment.
There was a flurry of noise and the six outsides took that awkward moment to vacate, pushing through the crowd and out the door. Of course, they did. The whole club was grabbing every blunt weapon available and then some crazy guy shows up with a sword out of all things? Jungkook would have bounced the second they were distracted too.
“I always wanted to do that,” Yoongi chuckled, sheathing the sword.
“What are you?” she cackled, shoving him in the chest playfully, making everyone laugh. “Some kinda historical drama protagonist? You nicked the damn sword behind the bar and started waving it around left and right! What if you lopped off someone’s head?”
Yoongi scoffed, placing the black traditional sword gently onto the bar top where the bartender sighed in relief, shaking his head at them. “Come on. I told you I did some sword dancing at university. I know how to handle a sword. It’s not even sharp.”
She slapped her hand down on Yoongi’s shoulder, turning him around.
“Come here.”
Angling her head, pushing Yoongi against the bar, lips to lips in a fiery kiss, raspy chuckle between them, her body fitting against his, practically bending his back over the bar.
“Aw, Boss, not on the bar! Get outta here with that shit!”
The bartender was shooing them away and she detached from Yoongi’s face, grinning, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy, grabbing Yoongi by the collar of his shirt and slipping her hand in the leather strap that Jungkook held out, tightly grasping it, dragging them both along, insane laughter tumbling from her lips.
He thought it would bother him, seeing the one he used to call love.
Strangely, it didn’t.
Probably because he killed that good boy wagging his tail, ditching those hopes that his love could change unfaithful hearts, because the only thing worse than a dumb bitch was the one that believed in her lies.
Jungkook felt the leather collar snap into the sides of his neck and felt himself smile, following the call of the chain.
-
It felt so good.
It felt so good being bad.
“Tighter.”
Min Yoongi stared into those large, dark brown orbs, glassy and fucked out. Tattooed arm extended, hand turning at his command, winding the silver chain around the leather strap and pulling hard, the sides of the thick black leather collar pressing into Yoongi’s neck.
He mirrored Jeon Jungkook’s movement.
Yoongi watched the younger man’s face shadow with pleasure, the slurping sound under them getting louder, messier. He let his hips roll forward, fuck, the tight wet heat all around him, looking down to watch Jungkook’s cock getting swallowed with some effort. Her hand around the base, rubbing the balls with her slippery palm. Yoongi thrust harder, slightly bent forward from Jungkook’s strong grip, feeling the tendrils of lightheadedness creep up his head, his cock getting even harder, twitching inside her at the anticipation.
Guess there as a reason for the length of these chain leashes after all.
Yoongi lifted his head again, licking his lips, watching Jungkook.
It was such a beautiful, exquisite descent into madness.
He snapped his hand up and Jungkook’s head tipped back, leather collar squeezing the sides of the younger male’s neck, his sweaty black hair flying, wanton moan dripping from his shapely lips, the tiny mole exposed under a trembling mouth. The silver lip ring glinted in the bedroom lights, wayward pink tongue caressing it.
He knows how to look pretty.
Yoongi smirked as Jungkook noticed him watching.
The eye contact was held for way too long but they were also choking each other and fucking the same woman between them, so it was hard to tell how much was too much.
There was a loud slurp and lips smacking against sensitive skin, visible shiver overtaking Jungkook’s broad frame, gasping as she lifted herself, string of spit snapping, halfway crawling up the younger man’s chest, laughing hoarsely.
“You’re gonna make me choke on his dick, Yoongi.”
“Good,” he hissed out, snapping his hips into her soft ass and making it bounce.
He could hear the rapid sound of hand on wet cock, could see it all over Jungkook’s face, overcome by pleasure and pressurized by speed, his head falling back, choking himself more, shoulders and chest flexed from tenseness, struggling to hold his torso up, and it must have been difficult, the pace of that tight and unforgiving hand matching the tight and unforgiving walls that wrapped around him, squeezing his stiff, throbbing length, harder, trying to make her lose grip, but she planted her hand onto that muscular chest and pushed back against Yoongi, forcing him deeper inside.
Fuck.
Jungkook pulled harder.
Fuck!
The younger man’s lips curved into a roguish smirk.
What happened to the good boy?
Yoongi clenched his teeth and yanked hard.
He must have gone bad.
“Cum for me, Jungkook,” Yoongi heard himself whisper, smokey and thin in his ears, using the last of his breath. Those brown eyes widened, surprised to hear it from him and not, well, the one furiously jacking his dick.
Closer.
Yoongi grinned, maybe a little psychotic.
Closer.
There.
“Fuck!”
And he had no idea who said it, him, Jungkook, her, maybe all three, but then it was a mess, white dripping down the back of her hand and splattering onto Jungkook’s lower belly, her pitching forward and clutching the younger man’s shoulder, wildly moaning into his flexed, hard chest, then the sudden clenching pulse around his twitching cock, and he was gone too, strong jolts filling up the condom, bent over her back, the sudden rush of oxygen knocking the wind out of him, his arm going slack, his hand letting go of leather and metal.
He heard Jungkook gasp, his arms giving out and falling onto the bed with a hard fwump!
Her hand on Jungkook’s shoulder immediately slid down onto the bed, her elbow locking, and she held herself up, anchoring Yoongi in place. His chain leash draped over her shoulder, hanging in the air, already released in Jungkook’s euphoria. She laughed huskily, just a touch of deviousness, slowly rubbing her cum-covered hand all over Jungkook’s spent cock.
Whines and whimpers echoed in the room, the younger man squirming under them, but there were no weak pleas, no refusal, no desire to stop, only those glassy brown orbs opening, begging to be broken, more, just break me.
She leaned down, hot breath against Jungkook’s shaking lips.
“Good boy.”
Snickered, sweetly sinister.
“Just kidding.”
Her agile tongue slid out and licked Jungkook’s cheek, making him break out into a mischievous grin.
“You’re not a good boy anymore, thanks to me.”
-
con't burned
-
far to go. drabble series
01 opening sequence — myg 03 trust fund baby — ksj 04 lonely boy (the tattoo on my ring finger) — kth, ft pjm 05 thursday’s child has far to go — knj, ft jhs 02 good boy gone bad — jjk, ft myg (collar!AU)
--
masterpost
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