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alphabetboyluvr · 2 months

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habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud.

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is��Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed.

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail.

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung.

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?"

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too.

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to. Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up."

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips.

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer.

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole.

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes.

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before.

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with.

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck.

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #jungkook fluff #college!jungkook #non idol au #bts fanfic #bangtan ff #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #college au

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boonesfarmsangria · 5 years

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Yannis Philippakis || Margaret Court Arena

edited from orig byHolly Parker

#yannis philippakis #foals #blouses #fav #enswbl1

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storiesofobjects · 7 years

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Loved my time @lewishairteam my new #lighter #brighter #hair #byHolly everyone so #lovely nice to see #JadeandBump #besthairdressersinipswich #thankyou #nofilter #nofilterneeded (at Lewis Hair Team)

#nofilter #lighter #nofilterneeded #thankyou #hair #brighter #besthairdressersinipswich #byholly #lovely #jadeandbump

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strangelittlegarden · 7 years

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Baby dust bunnies are back in for the holidays!! www.etsy/shop/tchochkes byholly

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quickbookreviews-blog · 10 years

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The Soul Collectors - Chris Mooney

Summary: Full of suspense and gore and jam packed with action.

A child missing twelve years returns and holds his family at gunpoint, a mask of human skin stitched over his mutilated face. But when the SWAT team arrive to defuse the situation, they instead release deadly gas and swiftly murder the family. Snazzy investigator Darby McCormick enters a mad world of medieval torture, ancient religion and missing children returned from the dead in this thriller.

I accidentally joined this series on the fourth book, but it stands alone pretty nicely. The plot runs at a breakneck pace, the writing is fluid and easy to read and the high body count keeps you in doubt of the genre. Frequently gruesome, occasionally emotive and hard to put down, the action sequences run thick and fast and there's little faffing about with romantic subplots. Ok, it has some faults. Many of the storylines fizzle out or get left behind, the characters are unrelatable (Darby may be an ass-kicking female but she gets over some horrific stuff suspiciously quickly) and the ending is frustrating. But the suspense and tension, no matter how they are executed, are exciting in concept and more than enough to satisfy at the end of the day.

This series:

Book 1) The Missing

Book 2) The Secret Friend

Book 3) The Dead Room

Book 4) The Soul Collectors

Warnings: mild gore, torture, spiders, rape threat

#M #The Soul Collectors #Chris Mooney #quickbookreviews #byholly

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alphabetboyluvr · 3 months

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the curious lifespan of migrating monarchs - jjk

THE CURIOUS LIFESPAN OF MIGRATING MONARCHS (& other aurelian affairs)

pairing: streamer!jk x international student!female oc (s2l)

warnings: strangers to lovers, clubbing, foul language, alcohol, vaping lol, jungkook is kinda famous, the oc is oblivious, the oc is also a foreign student who has very recently arrived in Korea!! (pls note - while i've been in korean uni dorms, i've never been in yonsei dorms specifically so don't shout at me if it isn't supeeeerr accurate), jaykay is speaking in eng for like 90% of this!!, i've also never watched a gaming streamer and had to do so for research lmao so there's a lot of guesswork going awwwn <3, the oc has tattoos, they bond over this, cute nicknames (tokki and nabi <3), one bed trope?? kinda, jaykay lives w/ yoongi and tae (they are streamers too (and dj?? (tae is a bit unhinged))), jungkook wears calvins!, a singular appearance of yoongi in his boxers!!, tipsy hookup, fingering, protected sex (woo!), desk sex, oral (m receiving), girliepop swallows <3, brief mentions of jungkook's starry eyes, lots of kisses, bunny ears, (1) mention of cross-fit

wordcount: 13011

note from holly: this was a commission done for the lovely Michelle over on my kofi page!! i don't open commissions often, but when I do I'm very lucky that the requests are so much fun. this actually ended up being way longer than it was supposed to be lol and is also available on wattpad!! also fun facts for you - I imagine the boys apartment (and jks room!) to be same as jk + jimins place in BD, just a little bigger lmao

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

CLUB SUNDOWN WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 02:24

Time ceases to exist after the sun goes down in Seoul. It could be two, or it could be five. The only thing that really clues you in on the actual time is the DJ schedule that lights up behind the decks: 02:00-03:00, Blu-Tae.

It's some guy you've never heard of. Looks no older than you. Probably a student, just like the rest of the crowd.

His hair is as blue as his namesake, which does make you smile, and his choices aren't bad either (even if somewhat questionable). You've never heard a jazz remix of Darude's Sandstorm before, and you doubt you ever will again.

Club Sundown is just as rogue as the rest of the city after the sun goes down. Hidden in the basement—like all the best places in Seoul are—the small room is packed to the absolute brim.

Who cares for views and sunsets offered by rooftop bars when you could lose yourself in the debauchery of an eternal midnight, instead?

Drinks are spilt on strangers, and dances have lost the grandeur of old-fashioned waltzes. It's not like you could dance properly, even if you wanted to. There's just simply no space.

Like Alice, you're down the rabbit hole—and oh, how you prefer it to being in the real world. In the shadows, you can be anyone you like.

If you were sober, you'd know this is also the case for daily life. You're in a new country with no ties to your former self. Who you are is who you choose to be.

But the shadows aren't all that dark. The red lights of the club bleed into the cracks, painting everyone in the same subtle hue of danger.

They shine a little light on the identifiers of you; the thin black lines of your patchwork tattoos. Trailing up your arm, they're memories of your past selves, and an indicator of who you hope to become.

"Down this," you say to your dormmate, Rae, handing back over the drink you've just ordered from the bar. "Cloakroom, then dance."

Still carrying your winter coats, you'd wanted to check the place out before committing to it. Entry is free, but the cloakroom is the same price as a drink. It would only be worth putting your coats away if you knew you wanted to stay—and given the fact the DJ was playing O-Zone's Dragostea Din Tei as you entered, you know it's a no-brainer. While his stage name might make you roll your eyes a little, Blu-Tae certainly does cater to your tastes. When you're drunk, and music vibrates through you, it's empyrean. No place you'd rather be.

"Oh, Jesus," Rae gags as she sips the drink you've just handed her. Despite her disgust, she's laughing. Head to toe in black, dark hair loose around her shoulders, she's been your ride-or-die since you arrived in Seoul. Both international students in the same dorm, there's no one you'd rather get up to no good with. "Vodka?!"

You beam at her like you're from the heavens above, wrongfully relegated to the depths of sin. Pretend like you love vodka. It's totally not like you panicked when you saw the menu was all in Korean.

Vodka-coke is a universally understood delicacy—the easiest thing for you to order without making a tit of yourself or butchering the pronunciation. When the bartender ignored your botched attempt at ordering in Korean and answered in fluent English, you'd wanted to melt into the floor. So embarrassing.

You're here, like most foreign students, for a language course. Semester is yet to start, and as much as you've studied and practised hard, it's always different when putting it into practice.

"I'm sorry," you laugh. "It's fine—you can order next time!"

But Rae has the exact same predicament as you. If anything, your language skills are better than hers, so you really have no hope. It's vodka-cokes for the evening, or maybe highballs. Once your tipsy brain manages to compute hangul cocktail names, you'll be golden, but that won't be for another few weeks, yet.

You'll look back at this time of your life fondly, realising how simple it all was, even if it feels incredibly overwhelming right now.

Funnily enough, hope is exactly what you have: for the semester ahead, for this new life you're forging, for the opportunities that may come your way.

In fact, by the time you're on your third vodka coke, you've managed to convince yourself you actually like it. You also can't taste it, thanks to the bartender freepouring a 60-40 ratio of vodka to coke in the first drink. Your tastebuds were wiped out pretty much instantly.

Coats in the cloakroom, you're glad to be wearing thin layers. The room is stuffy; your skin sweaty. While meeting new friends had been the goal, you keep to yourself. Dance like nobody is watching. Hold Rae's hands to stay close and ward off weirdos. Quickly realise that clubs back home are slightly different. Pay it no mind. Ignore the intrusions of hands on waists, because men, disappointingly, are no different.

Or at least most of them aren't.

But most of them don't look like the man in the corner booth, laughing with his friends.

Though he is tall, he's eclipsed by his demeanour. Shoulders broad, he's in a dark T-shirt and pair of jeans. Nothing special. Nothing that warrants such a perplexed stare from you - but he's familiar. You can't place him, but he's got the kind of face you swear you've seen before.

Rae doesn't notice the change in your poise, nor how you're desperately trying to work out where you know him from. Perhaps you've seen him around your university? It's only been a couple of weeks, but people are steadily moving in. Maybe he works at the convenience store you constantly find yourself in? Or mans the front desk of the noraebang you and Rae visit pretty much every other evening?

Impossible, you think. If you'd seen him before, you wouldn't have forgotten him, or the way he constantly toys with his lip rings. Plural. There are signs up around the place stating bar rules. NO SMOKING is rule number three. You've seen his friends pass him over a vape a handful of times. Anyone else, and you'd think it was cringe. Embarrassing.

But in the midst of his laughter settling, and a fresh toke being inhaled, his eyes flicker towards yours.

Perhaps it's just because you're drunk, but you don't avert your gaze. Show no shame. The smile on his lips sinks into a smirk as he exhales. An acknowledgement. A 'hello, trouble'.

Again, any other man, you'd find the vape smoke repugnant. Nasty. Now? Watching the way he flicks his tongue against his lip rings?

You wanna know how it tastes.

Black ink weaves an intricate outline of who he is up his arms. Where he's been. Who he's been. A map, if you will, of his soul.

Much like your own tattoos, he's got thick black lines, and little else. Simple, you assume. A man of convenience. Efficiency.

You wonder if he does everything in life with the precision to match his tattoos, and as your lips wrap around the straw of your vodka-coke, you decide you'd quite like to find out.

Interrupted by Rae pulling you deeper into the crowd, your night is spent in and out of shadows. Attempt subtlety. Try not to make your occasional glances to the corner booth noticeable, just checking if his eyes are still on you. More often than not, they aren't—but sometimes they are, and that's enough to fuel your little flirt.

It's not until the sign behind the DJ booth changes from 03:00-04:00, GLOSS into some other guy that you notice your staring contest opponent has slipped into the shadows himself. The booth is void of both him and his friends. Gone.

"GLOSS has a set at another club," Rae all but yells in your ear, and even then, you barely hear her. "All the hotties left when he did. Let's go."

"Where to?!" You laugh, empty cup in hand. Admittedly, the new guy who's stepped into the DJ booth is just not doing it for you. Blu-Tae was just the right amount of unhinged with classics, whereas GLOSS was definitely cooler, but still fun. Had the club yelling curse words over trap remixes just for the fun of it. This new guy, whose name you don't care to remember, takes himself too seriously, you think.

"It's, like, two blocks down," she yells back, tugging on your wrist to drag you to the stairwell that leads you back up to the streets of Seoul. The hustle and bustle of people trying to go in different directions in the tight place forces you apart, but you figure you'll catch up with her, or that she'll be waiting at the top.

You don't know the roads well enough yet to make it to whichever club it's at alone, and quickly realise when you nearly tumble into the side of a waiting taxi that you're far drunker than expected. Knew the bartender was freepouring, but didn't realise just how free those pours really were.

"Woah, easy trouble," a deep voice sounds from behind you as you're steadied to a more stable position.

"I'm good, I'm good!" You insist, shaking off the hands of your 'saviour'. Have no interest in being a damsel in distress, or some sober guy trying to take advantage of you.

Looking down to check your laces are tied properly, you check over your shoulder to make sure the guy isn't creepily waiting for a thank you that he can turn into an intrusive game of 21 questions—'are you open-minded?' or 'do you live alone?'—but when you glance in his direction, you regret it. Notice the tattoos immediately. Recognise the eyes. Want to die.

"Oh."

"Oh," he says back with a smile, imitating you. Suddenly, the confidence you'd had earlier when looking at him from afar dissolves into nothingness, just like the alcohol in your bloodstream. You feel rather sober, but your body would definitely disagree. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, suddenly a little stuck for words, desperately trying to play things cool. "Are you okay?"

The pouting of his lips as his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek only serves to make you internally cringe. Men who look like him have no business being on streets like this. Should be in a museum. Strung up on the walls with the other masterpieces. Admired by everyone who looks his way.

In a way you don't yet realise, he is.

Though he's not in galleries, he's often burning into people's laptop screens. Is the background of a fair few thousand lock screens. Indeed, he is admired by everyone who looks his way, just not in the traditional sense.

"I'm not the one who just fell into a car," he reminds you, as if you could forget your embarrassment so quickly.

"Was just seeing if you'd catch me," you bullshit, the confidence you usually have returning tenfold. Was just a momentary blip. He's just a man, after all.

"Oh?" He chirps, decidedly curious. "So you fell for me?"

"Stumbled."

"Semantics."

His fluency, and the fact he just said 'semantics' so casually in conversation, clues you in on the fact he might be a language student, too.

Could be useful study partners for each other, you think, then mentally berate yourself for already masterminding ways to see him again.

"So, where you going?" He asks, not caring to downplay his curiosity. The bartenders were free-pouring his drinks just as severely as they poured yours. The only difference is that his were on the house—'cause you were right. He does have a recognisable face. "Should probably go with you. Make sure you don't fall into the road."

"Stumble," you insist, a little pleased with the boldness of his suggestion, but not wanting to blindly agree. "My friend," you say glancing around, only to find yourself completely alone. "She wanted to go catch the next GLOSS set. So, I guess that's where we're going."

"Just down the road," he says, knowing the schedule like the back of his hand. Bounces from club to club supporting his friends, just like they would for him. If he wanted, he could get a slot up there, too. He doesn't care for it. "I'll walk with you, if you want? My friends are heading there anyway."

It's not a bad offer.

In fact, it's probably the best offer you'll get all night.

"C'mon," he nods his head to the side, encouraging you to follow him. Checks his phone for the time. "Starts in five."

If there's one thing you've indulged in since moving to Seoul, it's how safe you always feel. Security cameras are on every corner, and you've walked home countless times without any issues, even late into the night. While the place isn't perfect, it's far safer than your home country.

Still, you're not a complete idiot.

"It's not wise to follow strange men down dark alleys," you tell him.

He holds out his hand. Waits for you to shake it. Cocks a brow when you hesitate, so introduces himself.

"Jungkook. Nice to meet you. Now, can we please hurry up? I promised I'd be there."

Narrowing your eyes, you don't shake his hand. Arms folded over your chest, there is ice to your exterior, and given how warm his eyes are, you doubt it'll last for very long. May as well keep up this hard-to-get act while you still can.

Walking on past him, you call back, "Alright then. Lead the way."

In the domed mirror meant for reversing cars at the end of a tight alley, you see him laugh. "Wrong way, idiot."

Pausing, you scrunch your face up. Don't turn to face him for at least a second or so—but when you do, you're surprised to see him walking towards you. Hooking his arm around your waist, he carries on walking in the 'wrong' direction, taking you with him.

"Was just fucking with you," he grins. Nods towards a sign by another basement entrance, listing both Blu-Tae and GLOSS.

By the door, Rae is looking around like a mother duck who's just lost some of her ducklings when crossing the road. Breathes a sigh of relief when she spots you.

"C'mon," she grins, then realises who you're with. Says nothing of it, 'cause she doesn't want to be weird, but she recognises him, too. Decides she's just had a little too much to drink. There's no way it's him. Holds out her hand for you.

Reaching out for her, you're let go from Jungkook's grip, ready to get lost in the lights once more.

HAEJANG24 WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 05:53

Seoul is a city for the nocturnal. The restaurants and bars are open until the last men are standing. Given how much you've had to drink, you're surprised you still are.

Rae had dipped an hour or so ago. Had hit it off with Mr Blu-Tae himself. Seduced him with the suggestion that their couple name would be Blu-Rae. He'd said they should go to a DVD-bang. Would be fitting. See what Blu-rays were on file.

Naturally, you'd looked on with mild disgust and also admiration for how quickly she'd worked her magic. Everyone knows what goes down in DVD-bangs. Small private rooms, often with projector screens and the world's least comfortable futons, they're somewhere you hope to never end up—but also can't wait to hear all the details the next morning when Rae comes to your room for a debrief.

You'd been left under the surveillance of Jungkook.

"Look after her," Rae had instructed, then narrowed her eyes. "Or I'll destroy your reputation with a single twitter thread, Tokki."

It's a threat he's taken seriously. Knows how the internet works, and even though he's never done anything worthy of a cancellation, he also doesn't intend on starting now. The fact you seem to have no idea who he is during the daylight hours intrigues him. It's a rarity on streets like these.

Even when a few people asked for pictures with him on your walk to the hangover soup place, you didn't clock it as weird. Figured they were friends passing by, wanting to document their chance run-in. Just another memory of the night. The way Jungkook had greeted them was full of warmth, and kindness. Why wouldn't you assume they were mates?

You were also still incredibly drunk at the time, so didn't think to question it. Was keen for food, and Jungkook had insisted on hangover soup, and so that's where you are. Dishes nearly empty, far more of it eaten by him than you, you're laughing about nothing and everything all at once.

"Right," Jungkook declares, deciding he cannot hold in a question that's been tickling at his brain for the entire meal. "What the fuck is that?"

Coat left in the cloakroom, long forgotten about, your tattoos are on full display for him, just like his are for you. Up your arm they trail; a patchwork of teeny tiny identifiers. Latin phrases around skulls, birth flowers of the people you hold close, butterflies and stars. There's an ode to your favourite musician and your favourite Shakespeare quote, too. The fabric of you etched into your skin. There's no reinventing yourself, even half the world away from home.

You know precisely which tattoo Jungkook is asking about. You've asked yourself the same question a few times.

"Fuck off," you laugh.

While most of your tattoos are gorgeous, there's one that was done by a rogue artist on a girlie holiday a few years ago. What was supposed to be a seashell now looks like... well, nothing really. It's just a blob, thanks to the artist being absolutely terrible. The only solace you find in it is that your two best friends have an equally awful permanent reminder of that holiday on their bodies, too.

"It doesn't look how it's supposed to," you explain with a little pout. "I got royally screwed over."

He cocks a brow. You still haven't told him what it is. He isn't gonna ask you twice.

With a grumble, you feebly admit, "A shell."

And then he's laughing. Really laughing. Laughing so hard you think he might piss himself—which you'd actually prefer, because then he could be the embarrassed one, instead.

"I'm calling you Shelly from now on," he says with a broad smile. Has had his fair share of tattoo blunders, and knows you must've developed an affection towards how shitty it is. Would have gotten it covered up, otherwise. "That's incredible."

"You're calling me so such thing," you assure him, but you also can't help but laugh.

"I am," he tells you, then really solidifies it. "Shelly."

"Fuck off," you whine, doubling down. Scanning his arms, you try and pick out anything you can use against him, too. "If I'm Shelly, then you're Mike."

"Mike?!" He protests.

"Yeah," you insist, pointing towards the microphone on his forearm. "Mike."

"You are not calling me Mike. Do I look like a Mike?!"

"Do I look like a Shelly?!"

You've got a point. It's not the name he would have first associated with you - but it is cute, he thinks. Cute how mortified you seem. Cute how you can't help but smile.

After a little bit of back and forth, it's decided that neither of you look like your namesakes.

"Y'know, we kinda have matching tattoos," he says, holding out his arm for you to study. "Or at least, the placements."

And sure enough, below his elbow lives the outline of a bunny sitting on a crescent moon. Holding your own arm out next to his, below your elbow is a butterfly. Above it, is a teeny tiny moon.

Like Jungkook's moon, it's a crescent. Was supposed to symbolise new beginnings. You wonder what his means, but don't ask. Instead, you marvel at the coincidence of it all.

He presses his index finger against the butterfly on the inside of your forearm. The echoing chatter of the restaurant fades softly into nothingness as he says, "Nabi."

You nod. Even if you have spoken with him in English this entire time, it's nice to hear him speak in his mother tongue, no matter how minimal - so you reciprocate. Press your index finger against his bunny. Smile. Say, "Tokki."

It further confirms to Jungkook that you have no idea who he is. Has been a while since he's met a girl in a circumstance like this where that's the case. Likes the anonymity of it all. Is hiding his identity from you, and yet hasn't felt such vulnerability for years.

"Daltokki, right?" You continue, not wanting the silence to linger for too long. "The rabbit in the moon?"

You're not wrong, but you're also not entirely right.

"Yeah," he smiles regardless. "That's it."

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 07:12

"Shhh," Jungkook quietly laughs.

His hand is over your mouth and the other is on your hip as he guides you into his apartment. With your back to his chest, you've both been giggling for the entire ride to his place.

He had insisted that he should walk you home, and was surprised by the offense you seemed to have taken by this. You then told him that he absolutely could not seduce you, and that it was very gender-role-conforming for him to think that you were incapable of getting home by yourself.

"Maybe I should be the one to make sure you get home safely," you had said with a false sense of concern, which had made him laugh quite considerably.

In all reality, you didn't mind him offering to get you home. You just hadn't tidied your room. Didn't really expect to be taking a boy back to your place, much less one that looks like him.

Together, you'd caught the early morning bus over to Itaewon instead of a taxi, 'cause you're still on a student budget and Jungkook wasn't quite ready to blow his cover just yet.

You've been teasing him—questioning his status as a potential International Super Spy—ever since he took your hand and guided you into one of the flashiest apartment complexes you've ever been in. There was security. Doormen. A passcode for the elevator—not to mention that he was heading up to the seventh floor once you were in it. Might not sound like much, but when there are only seven floors to the entire building, it makes it the penthouse by default.

"It's not a penthouse," he'd insisted. "Plus, I live with friends. Only pay a third of the rent."

But a third of his rent is more money than you'll probably see in three months of post-grad work. You're drunk, but you're not stupid. You also know that the rental market here differs significantly from your home country. Monthly rent is cheap, but the deposits are extortionate. Sure, he'll get it back when he leaves, but to have the initial money needed for a place like this? He's not a regular student, if one at all, that much is sure.

"Not sure who's home," Jungkook whispers as you both kick your shoes off in the entryway. Given the looks of the other shoes, it's clear that this is a guys-only living situation. You're proven right when he continues, "Betcha Tae's still in that damn DVD-bang, but Yoongi might be back."

"Yoongi?" You question.

"GLOSS," Jungkook says, remembering how oblivious you are to who he is. Reaching down to grab your shoes, he isn't gonna leave them by the door. Will take them to his room. Doesn't want the boys asking questions, if they are in. Knows they'll just use it as an excuse to publicly roast him whenever they're next online together.

Given that a stream is scheduled for Sunday night, he doesn't want to tempt fate.

Their current choice of wind-up, which the viewers have been eating up, is the joke that Jungkook is a virgin. He's not, but he never knows how to defend himself without sounding like a tool, so always gets a little awkward. A lot of their viewers love it. Join in on the joke. Some take it seriously. He doesn't care.

Next month, Taehyung will do something dumb, and he'll become the favourite joke for a while. Maybe Yoongi. But for now, it's Jungkook.

None of them take it to heart. They're just a group of friends who share their gaming hangouts online, and accidentally made it to the top of the ranks.

They aren't particularly good at gaming, but that's part of the charm. Crescent Collective is how they're known: Blu-Tae, GLOSS and Tokki.

After a bet went wrong, and they all lost, they ended up with moon tattoos and their respective 'symbols'. Jungkook's is a rabbit, Tae's is a blu-ray DVD disk (because he really is committed to the bit), and Yoongi's is stars to symbolise the shine of fresh gloss. Jungkook's makes the most sense. Yoongi's is pretty decent. Taehyung's is just... Well, it's very him.

Sliding open the door into the main living area, Jungkook has to cover your mouth again when you gasp at the sheer size of the place.

"I thought butterflies were supposed to be silent?" He teases. "Quiet for me, Nabi."

His place is bigger than your family home, you think. Hushing you again, he's laughing—and then he's cursing at the sight of a half-naked Yoongi by the kitchen counter.

In his boxers, with half a clementine slice hanging from his lips, he's just as shocked to see Jungkook with you. Gets over it pretty quickly.

"Don't mind me," he says, chewing down on the fruit with a smirk. Looks towards you. "Apologies for the lack of clothes."

With your shoes hooked on his fingers, Jungkook's other large hand is still over your mouth. You're not sure you can form any words as it is, but you do notice the crescent moon and stars on Yoongi's ribs.

"Not a word to Tae," is all Jungkook says. Knows that he'll be in for a world of teasing tomorrow if he gets wind of it. "I mean it."

Holding his hands up, Yoongi's still smirking, but he is backing away into a room just off the kitchen. "My lips are sealed."

Watching as he closes the door, you wonder how much truth is in his words. Jungkook knows it's absolute bullshit. Chooses not to dwell on it. Loosens his grip on you and heads towards his own room. Turns back to check you're following him, and can't help but smile when he knows that you are.

Tossing your shoes just inside the door, Jungkook is quick to pick up a pair of jeans he'd left on the floor, before chucking them over his desk chair. He tweaks his bedding. Straightens it out. Looks a little shy as he turns to face you.

"Made it home safe," he says quietly, as you close the door behind you.

You nod. Keep a little distance. Say, "It's dangerous to sleep after drinking. Make sure you build a tower of pillows in the middle of your bed so you don't roll onto your back."

Both of you are far more sober than you were earlier. There's no need to worry about anything like that.

And yet he nods, now. Says, "You're probably right. You can always stay, though. Just to check I don't die in my sleep, or whatever."

"It'd be the responsible thing to do," you nod, wondering if he can tell just how fast your heart is beating. "But I don't have any pyjamas."

Jungkook swallows. The way he looks at you now is entirely different to how he'd looked at you in the club. Back then, he'd been bold. Flirtatious.

Now, he seems vulnerable. Needy.

"I sleep in my underwear," he tells you, unsure if you'll actually be sleeping. While he likes the idea of fucking you, part of him doesn't want to. Fears it'll ruin the magic of the unknown. The way he throbs at the mere thought of it would suggest that his hopes outweigh his fears. "I don't mind, if you don't."

The clothes Jungkook's wearing are baggy. You've seen nothing of his figure.

Reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs on the fabric of his T-shirt. Pulls it over his head and discards it in one swift movement. The sound of it crumpling on the floor is abrasive in how it makes you feel. Raw. Unrefined. You suppose it's just a natural consequence of seeing the toned muscles of his chest. How his waist defies what you thought was possible for masculine builds, and how broad his chest is. The indent of his collarbones, and the lines of his pelvis that draw your eyes downwards.

A pair of Calvins peek just above the waistband of his jeans, and a silver chain rests around his neck. Light from the city filters in, and LED lights around his impressive computer set-up paint him in a hue of violet.

"No," you manage to reply, which is a miracle, you think. "I don't mind."

And then you reciprocate. Reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Seeing him swallow back his nerves, or maybe his desires, makes you feel far bolder than you should.

"It's really uncomfortable to sleep in jeans," you tell him.

He nods. Agrees. Threads the button of his trousers through its loop. Doesn't take them off yet. Waits for you to do the same. Keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours. Doesn't let his gaze wander, no matter how much he has to fight all his instincts not to fully take you in. Is still pretending like he doesn't want you in the most indecent of ways.

The room you're in right now is known worldwide.

People set it as their zoom backgrounds. It's on Pinterest. There are YouTube videos attempting to recreate the set-up. If he were to power up his computer—which, in all fairness, is only on standby—and go live, there'd be a thousand viewers within minutes. Doesn't matter what he plays, or who he's with. He doesn't give it much thought anymore. Is just life.

Sometimes, he regrets not being a faceless streamer, but he also knows that it's part of the appeal. Connection, and the fantasy that comes with this almost dystopian, parasocial idea of it.

After all, the meeting of his eyes with yours across a busy club led you to this point. Human connection in the simplest of ways, that he thinks could culminate in the most complex of ways, too.

"Okay," he says. "So take them off."

"You want me to?" You ask just to tease a little bit, and when a smile flickers onto his seemingly nervous lips, you're glad you did.

"You think we'd be here right now if I didn't?" He says with a tweak of his brows.

"You've got a point."

With that, you push your jeans down and reveal the matching set of black underwear you're in. It's nothing special. In fact, it's not really a set, but it's close enough that it'd fool anyone who didn't know.

Jungkook, in this moment, is indeed a beautiful fool.

There's a lopsided grin on his face as he lets his eyes rake down your body. Is shameless as he indulges in you. Nods, as he bites down on his bottom lip.

"It's cold," you tell him, urging him along a little bit.

"Shit," he says without much thought. "Sorry. Was just... Yeah. Shit."

It's both endearing and wholly confusing how Jungkook flips from confident to cute. A man of duality. It makes you giggle, and then you're the one biting down on your bottom lip. Are both a little bashful. A little shy.

"I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep," you remind him before it goes any further.

Looking at him now, knowing you want him in the worst of ways, it's testing all of your willpower not to just cut to the chase.

Thing is, you liked his company tonight. Want it again. Want to give him a reason to seek you out once more. Want him thinking about you in clubs, and looking for you in crowded bars. Pining. Yearning. Needy.

"It's already gone seven," he tells you, walking towards his bed. Knocks his head to the side. Silently tells you to follow suit. "Will probably only get a couple hours in."

"Better than nothing. Plus, you're actually really irritating," you bullshit as you get into bed with him. Are adamant you won't fuck him, but you do let him pull you in closer.

"Oh, yeah?" He grins.

"Mhmm," you nod, pretending as if you aren't looking at his lips. "You'll be less annoying when you're asleep."

"I'm never gonna sleep again," he assures you. "Will annoy you forever."

"I know where the front door is," you say as you stroke a few of his loose, wavy hairs back behind his ears. They fall freely almost right away, but it just gives you another excuse to play with it "I can just leave. I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep. Pointless if you're awake."

"So I have to be asleep for you to stay?"

"Mhmm," you hum.

He immediately loosens his grip on you and flops into an overdramatic sleeping position. Fake snores. Gets you giggling. Can't hide his smile, either. Laughs through the god-awful noises he's making.

But it is late, and you're both tired. As much as he'd like to stay awake with you, the pull of sleep is just too tempting now that you're beneath his sheets. It's not like he doesn't wanna fuck you. His semi is very much present, but neither of you mention it.

"Y'know what's sad about butterflies?" Jungkook mumbles after the laughter dies down. He carefully begins to trace the lines of your tattoo, eyes entirely focused on the tip of his finger.

You purr a response before you fully vocalise one. "Tell me."

He glances up at you only very momentarily. Looks back down. Is quiet when he says, "How quickly they die. Spend over half their lifespan growing into these beautiful creatures, and then they have, what—A week? Two? Three, tops—and then they're gone. It's like the cherry blossoms in spring. Beautiful, and then—" He clicks his fingers. "—gone."

Stroking back some loose strands of his hair, you wonder if he's thinking about you. About this chance encounter. Beautiful, then gone.

"Just means you have to appreciate them while they're still around," you say softly. "Cherish them, because you know you only have them for a moment."

His gaze lifts to meet yours. The reflection of his LED lights makes it seem like butterflies are floating around in his deep, dark eyes, too.

There are stories he could tell you of ancient folklore; about human souls taking the form of butterflies. Of justice, and peace, and spirits. Of back in time, when tigers still smoked. He could tell you of his favourite butterflies. Of the black butterflies that are as large as his hands in the summer. Of the huge display in a museum downtown that would transfix him as a child.

Instead, he gently presses his lips against the lines of your butterfly tattoo.

The rate at which your heart is beating multiplies. Like a swarm of butterflies chasing through your veins, you've no control over the way you're feeling. He's brought your artwork to life; set the souls inside of your butterfly free, only for it to be apparent that the souls belonged to the both of you, anyway.

You know that this is one of those moments; a butterfly passing on by through your lives. Here, and then gone. Beautiful, but fleeting.

There's a shyness to Jungkook now, as he rolls onto his back. A reluctance to get things wrong. He doesn't look at you, just nibbles on his bottom lip and pretends as if the empty white ceiling ahead of him is the most interesting thing he's seen all night.

It's not.

You are.

You, and those eyes that make him feel like the butterfly on your arm is tickling at his tummy. He finds himself jealous when he faces you again and begins tracing the thin lines of your butterfly once more. Wants to embed himself into you like the ink that's carved out a home in your skin.

"Sorry," he mumbles, seemingly regretful of the tender kiss he'd pressed against your arm just a short moment ago. "Don't know why I did that."

"It's okay," you reply without much thought. Like him, you're letting the way you feel dictate the words you say. Care not for playing coy. "I liked it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jungkook wants to stop his mouth from letting his desires escape. The issue is, he drank a little too much tonight and his lips are a little too loose. Too bad. Can't help himself from asking, "Can I do it again?"

You're just as bad.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Please."

The way his lashes splay against his cheeks as he presses another kiss to your arm is nothing short of celestial. Like that damn moon on his arm, he's got a beauty about him that's hard to capture in words. Ethereal feels too fantastical, but gorgeous feels too dense. He resides in a realm somewhere between the two. Somewhere you'd like to stay forever.

Forever, sadly, only lasts a few hours. You've brunch plans with new friends you can't bail on yet for fear of running a friendship before it's even begun.

You see yourself out. Jungkook's still asleep. Not quite 10AM, you've a dozen missed calls from Rae, and a cold can of coke waiting for you in your fridge. Funnily enough, though, you don't really feel hungover. Must have gotten it all out of your system the night before.

It's only fitting, when you think about Jungkook on the subway home, and how soberingly drunk the idea of him makes you feel.

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:39

Brunch had, predictably, been a yawn-fest.

The people were perfectly nice, but you spent the entire time thinking about Jungkook; how you'd left him in a pretty slumber, the LEDs behind his computer still glowing, with not even so much as a note to say thank you.

It's not like he had any paper on his desk, and you weren't about to start rummaging around his room. You also didn't want to wake him. Part of it was because you knew you'd be saying goodbye, and the concept of that was one that you didn't like all that much.

And so your subway ride back to your dorm had been spent searching his name. He didn't take long to find.

From the club's Instagram, you found GLOSS and quickly discovered that there was far more to both him and Blu-Tae than just being DJs. Their follower counts were wild. Numbers you know you'll never see on your own account. Verification check marks accented their display names.

Who are you? You'd thought to yourself, incredibly perplexed by it all.

Jungkook was littered all over their pages, and yet it still took a while for you to click through to his account. You're not sure why, but think that perhaps the unknown was a nice place to reside within. Safer.

CR3SC3NT_T0KK1 was his username—and curiously, Tokki was also his display name. Brows furrowed, you'd almost dropped your phone when you saw his follower count. It eclipsed both of his friends.

Filled with gaming set-ups, merch drops, and general life dumps, it was pretty clear that whoever Jungkook had made himself out to be the night before was not who he was in real life.

Equal parts offended and intrigued, you were only more confused when you saw that Rae was already following him—but not following Taehyung.

"What?" she'd beamed when you'd asked her about it after you'd arrived home from brunch, a scoop of hangover ice cream being waved around in the air with her flamboyant gestures. "He's, like, one of the biggest streamers in the country—and if I want to keep Tae obsessed with me, we need as many connections as possible. Jungkook's a frog to me, baby, not a prince. Don't you worry your little cotton socks. I'm not after him."

"I wouldn't care if you were," you'd blatantly lied in response, and then you'd giggled together at how ridiculous you were both being over boys you didn't really know.

Hovering over the bright purple 'JOIN STREAM' button later that evening, part of you holds back. Think it'd be weird. Strange. That he'd somehow know it was you.

Dipping your mouse, you tick the checkbox to join as an anonymous viewer. Take a breath. Think fuck it. Watch with bated breath as the loading wheel turns—and then he's there.

Jeon Jungkook has the kind of beauty that transcends shitty quality streams. Smiling as he jokes with one of his friends through a headset with a pair of black bunny ears affixed to the top of them, you hear a voice you almost recognise. Notice the friend he's streaming with in the top corner. Realise you do know him, too.

Hair as blue as the trees are green, Tae has just as much boyish charm as Jungkook, but also an incredibly large hickey that seems to match the ones on Rae's neck.

"Nah, can we get an L in the chat for Kook," he's teasing. Sure enough, the chat begins to explode with the letter, and Jungkook looks so pretty when he protests.

"It's not an L!"

"It is!" Tae insists. "Should have seen him, guys. Was following this girl around like a lovesick puppy—"

"No, I wasn't!"

"And she didn't even give him her number. Not even her name!"

"That's not true!" Jungkook whines. He switches between Korean and English with ease, sometimes just single words, other times whole sentences. "I have a name."

"What is it?"

"Not telling you."

"Cause you don't have one!"

"No, because you'll all make my life a living hell," Jungkook laughs—and then notices a bright blue comment lighting up in the chat. His eyes widen. "Fuck."

GLOSS: Was calling her Nabi when he got home last night Almost shit his pants when he saw me

"Yoongi, I'm gonna shave your eyebrows off in your sleep," Jungkook growls—only for the chat to start spamming butterfly emojis. Closing his eyes, he leans back in his chair, the still paused video game long forgotten about, now. Thousands of people are in their chat, and even more are watching the stream.

"Guys, get it trending," Taehyung goads. "Tweet, I dunno, bunny and butterfly emojis."

"Don't do that!"

"Hashtag find Jungkook's butterfly."

"Do NOT do that!"

"I'm like a modern-day cupid," Taehyung beams.

"I'm shaving your eyebrows, too."

Closing the stream, you sit for a moment, mouth ajar, unable to process what on earth you've just witnessed. Part of you feels as if it must have an incredibly vivid daydream; a projection of your heart's desire.

And you know you shouldn't, but when you get home from running errands the following day, you join the stream again. Blush when you notice the chat is still teasing Jungkook.

"I'm gonna block you all," he threatens them with a grin, which only encourages them to send even more butterfly emojis.

The next day is no different, nor the day after that.

He is, though. Has been letting it all play on his mind. Doesn't have much of a filter when it comes to streaming.

"What if she didn't even like me, guys," he whines to the chat. "And sees this and is like... mortified. I think I'd punch myself in the face if she ever saw any of this."

You toy with the idea of sending a comment into the chat. Something that only he'd realise was you. Thing is, you feel bad for intruding. As if you shouldn't be prying. As if you're eavesdropping on him chatting with friends, and not on the stream he's broadcasting live around the world.

Typing out a message, you deliberate your choice.

Punch urself in the face pls, tokki x the message reads.

Simple. Effective. To the point.

But everyone calls him that, you stupidly realise, now.

And so you change the name to 'Mike'.

Before you can even really realise what you've done, you've pressed send.

The message flitters into the chat feed. He's about to resume his game. Doesn't notice it at first.

Gives the chat one final glance, and then his eyes widen. He sits up taller. Straighter. "Mike?"

You close the lid of your laptop immediately.

"Fuck."

THE STREETS WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE FRIDAY 23:51

"Tae is on in five," Rae squeals, dragging you down the road at lightning speed.

You'd spent far too long at dinner, and also had far too much to drink with your food, so have been forced to make an undignified sprint to the club in an attempt to make it in before the place reaches capacity.

There's already a queue. You can see it from a mile away.

Realistically, Rae could have gotten Taehyung to add her to the guest list. He'd offered. She didn't wanna look needy, so had played it coy about her plans for the evening.

After a single beer and soju, she'd decided that the idea of him hooking up with anyone but her simply wouldn't do.

"Shit," she sighs in defeat, looking at the queue. The direction you've come from means that you reach the entrance before you reach the queue, but even then, you can tell it goes around the block. "Are there no other clubs these people can go to?!"

There are—but this club is rammed tonight for the same reason Club Sundown was rammed the week before. People want to see the Crescent Collective.

You didn't realise it at the time, but you'd bypassed the queue of the second club last weekend because Jungkook had been with you.

And as if by a stroke of luck, or perhaps a twist of fate, the same tattooed hand that had held you as you slept last weekend is now putting out a cigarette just a few steps away.

Eyes landing on yours, he looks away again, almost immediately. Feels embarrassed. Stupid. For the way you left him, and also for the way he knows you must know who he is, now.

Behind a red rope, he's away from the general crowd. It's sort of obnoxious, you think—but also know Jungkook is anything but.

"They're with me," Jungkook says to the bouncer, not really looking at you, but nodding in your general direction. Is deliberately keeping a little distance. Instead, he says to Rae, "Tae wouldn't want you waiting in line."

Nodding, the security guard makes way for you, stamping the backs of your hands with UV-activated ink as you walk past.

"Thank you!" Rae beams.

"No worries," Jungkook smiles right back. "He's about to start. Was just getting air. You're lucky you arrived when you did."

"Angel," she praises. "I'll get you a drink while we're in there."

You know her well enough now to know that she absolutely will not, but you don't say anything. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest as you walk, suddenly feeling all awkward in Jungkook's presence.

"Nabi," he curtly greets you as you head down the stairs.

"Tokki," you greet him back just as formally. Consider calling him 'Mike' instead, but you chicken out.

Face scrunching up, Jungkook tries his best not to cringe at himself. Doesn't know if you're addressing him by his tattoo moniker, or just calling him Tokki because you know it's his identifier online.

"How have you been?" He asks, not wanting to let it simmer.

"Alright," you say, aware of how awkward this all feels, as you descend the stairs and into the club. The music is getting louder, and soon you won't be able to hear him talk unless you're in each other's ears. "And you?"

"Alright."

Just as quickly as he appeared, Jungkook is lost to the crowd.

He doesn't care to stick around if he's just going to be hung out to dry by you again. He tells himself that he only made sure you got in to keep Rae happy for Taehyung's sake—yet as he rejoins his friends in their booth, he finds himself desperately seeking you out again.

It takes him a while, but he eventually spots you by the bar in conversation with Rae. He can't make out what you're saying, but notices how your eyes are flickering around the room. Seems as if you're hunting for something.

Deep down, even if he pretends like he doesn't, he hopes it's for him.

Pulled away from your search by the bartender passing over drinks to the pair of you, Jungkook feels bad. Knows the drinks are pricey in this place. Also knows, from the conversations you've already had, that you're on a tight budget. Had said that once the semester starts, you'll stop going to parties. Are seemingly unaware of the fact the parties never stop in this city. You'll learn.

When your eyes finally land on his a little while later, you're surprised by his intense gaze—intrigued by his lack of shame for being caught out. He doesn't look away or appear embarrassed. If anything, it's quite the opposite.

Girls are vying for his attention all around him, yet you receive all of it. Half the room away, hundreds of people create a sea between you both. Jungkook thinks he'd swim through it, no matter how choppy the water, if it meant he could have you right now.

You're the one who left, though.

It's up to you to come back.

Part of you doesn't want to, but then you see another girl making advances, and Rae's horror over other girls trying it on with Taehyung seems to have rubbed off on you. The idea of it makes your skin crawl. You're drunk, and a little reactive, but Jungkook likes playing with fire.

As you work your way through the crowd towards him, he tries his best not to grin. Finds himself vindicated in his desire to be close to you, 'cause it seems like you want it, too.

Sliding in between Jungkook and the girl, you turn and apologise.

"Just need to borrow him for a second," you smile, clutching at his shirt and pulling him away from the booth before she even has a chance to protest.

With an ever-so-satisfied smirk, Jungkook shrugs towards the other girl, and lets you drag him wherever you want. He's putty in your hands, a little tipsy and desperately in need of attention from you.

For the past week, he's played scenario over scenario over scenario in his head about this moment, and now that it's happening, he's glad he let you seek him out. Is so pleased that you actively want him just as much as he wants you.

In the middle of the crowd, you're hidden from prying eyes. It's too dark to notice any discerning features of the people around you, yet somehow, Jungkook seems like a vibrant golden light to you. Impossible to miss. Unable to ignore.

You wanna talk. Ask him about who the fuck he is. Explain that you didn't mean to leave so heartlessly.

Taehyung's set is so overwhelmingly loud, though. Can barely even hear yourself think.

As soon as he'd spotted Rae in the crowd, Taehyung had sent the bar coordinator to go and get her. She's sitting pretty up in the DJ booth, incredibly pleased with herself. Notices you and Jungkook almost immediately. Knows it'll be on Twitter in the next few hours, especially if that damn butterfly tattoo of yours is noticed.

Bunnies and butterflies have been trending for days.

Jungkook speaks, but you can't hear him.

"Huh?" You ask, getting on your tippy toes, but it's fruitless. Even as his hand drops to your waist to steady you and keep you in place, you can barely make out his words. "I can't hear you!"

He can't hear jack shit, either. Frowns. Looks around. Spots Yoongi by the booth and gestures towards the side of the room. When Yoongi nods back, it's Jungkook who drags you through the crowd, now. Just beyond the DJ booth is a little black door that Yoongi meets you by. Taps in the code. Nods in your direction.

"A pleasure," he says with a knowing smirk. Miraculously, you can hear him, but ultimately, it's because you're not in the direct line of the speakers now.

You don't get a chance to respond before Jungkook gets you into what can only described as a dark hole as quickly as he can. Romance, you think to yourself, but you also are very aware of the fact Jungkook doesn't let go of your hand, even when he's searching for the light switch. It takes him a second, but he manages to recall the approximate location quickly enough.

Dingy yellow light floods into the room. Small and boxy, it's a 3-in-1 storage room, bathroom, and dressing room for 'talent'. It's why Yoongi had the code, but you can't imagine anyone with any shred of self-respect actually using this place. The walls are the same grey tiles as the floor, and the light bulb hangs from a wire without a shade. The tap on the sink drips, and you're pretty sure there's a leak in the far corner by the mirror.

None of that matters, though. All you can focus on is the man in front of you. Though not soundproof, the room does offer a far more muted version of Taehyung's set. More importantly, it provides you with privacy.

It's been a week since you last saw him, face to face.

Though you have, admittedly, seen him what feels like a million times on low-quality streams from his bedroom.

Realistically, it's been about three times, but you think about it almost constantly.

"You left," is all he says, a little pout on his lips.

It's cute, you think, that he is so outwardly offended by such an act. You would have thought that a man of his position would have a habit of leaving, himself. Then again, you didn't know of his status when you left him in bed that morning.

"And you didn't die," you reply with a teasing smile, trying not to make it sound so severe. "You were fine without me."

"I'm not joking," he says, even if he can't help but smile at the recollection of how stupid the conversation before bed had been. "You left. It was rude."

"I had brunch plans," you tell him, reaching your hands out for his. He wants to resist. Fails. Lets you pull him closer. Incredibly close, in fact. So close that you begin to notice all sorts of things. His freckles. A small scar on his cheek. A tiny fleck of glitter on his skin, no doubt from one of the girls who had been desperate for his attention earlier. "You'd only had a few hours sleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Could have left a note," he says, still pouty but far quieter. You can smell the Jack on his breath. Have always hated the taste, but think you could grow to like it. "Your number. Something, at least."

"I could've," you admit, edging even closer. Closing the gap. Nudging your nose against his. But then you smile. Pull back. Tease, "And you could have warned me that I'd become a trending topic on Twitter."

Just like that, Jungkook's pout snaps into the prettiest smile. His face scrunches up, lines creasing on his nose. Beneath his closed eyes reside the sweetest little puffs. He's got the kind of face that is impossible not to like.

"Ah," he cringes.

"Yeah," you laugh at the stupidity of it all. What did he expect? That you wouldn't find out? "Ah."

"In my defence," he holds his hands up, eyes wide and innocent. "You called me Tokki. How was I to know you didn't know?"

"Oh, give over," you laugh, as he reaches for your hands once again. Pulls you closer. "You know I didn't know."

Truthfully, he does know this, but it was nice to be unknown for a little while. Nice to not second guess your intentions. Even now, knowing that you know, he feels like none of it matters.

"Look," he begins, toying with the hem of your cropped shirt. Lets his fingertips graze your bare skin. Tries his best not to think about what you look like half-naked. Fails. "I only came out tonight 'cause I hoped I'd see you. I don't care about staying out till ass-o'clock, again."

"Think I've only just caught up on sleep," you hum, angling your chin up and giving him the perfect opportunity to make a move that goes beyond flirtatious touches.

"Exactly," he smiles, letting his hand squeeze the side of your waist. Pulls you closer. "And I've not drunk half as much tonight, but I think I could do with you making sure I don't die, again."

"Yeah?"

Nodding as he nudges his nose against yours, Jungkook is all smiles. Lets his lips line up against your pout.

"Yeah," he mumbles—then lets the word get lost in your lips.

Sinking into what it feels like to kiss you, Jungkook can't help but feel satisfaction. Has finally caught the damn butterfly he's been after all week.

He's played a lot of games. Won a lot of battles.

And yet victory has never tasted so sweet.

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 02:07

You retrace your steps. Get a taxi to his place, 'cause there's no point pretending like he can't afford it. Not anymore.

You're not giggling like you were the first time you were in his elevator, but it's kind of impossible to do so when your back is to the wall and Jungkook's tongue is in your mouth.

Your hands roam his body—waist, ass. If you can squeeze it, you will. Just makes him deepen the kisses. If his large hands weren't cupping your jaw, keeping you close, they'd be doing the exact same thing as yours.

The ding of the elevator pulls you apart just for a second, and then you're the one pulling him down to the corridor to his place.

He doesn't open the door. Just kisses you again.

Finally understands what it means to get butterflies, 'cause he's got you, now, and he never wants to lose it.

Hooking his hands beneath your ass, he hoists you up. Gets your legs wrapped around him. Could go in, but where's the fun in that? There's a slight danger of getting caught. He knows the hallway security cameras will definitely pick this up. The threat that it could get leaked online, and the simple fact that he couldn't give a shit if it does, is kind of hot.

"I'm not fucking you out here," you tell him through a hushed giggle, when he rests his forehead against yours.

"Woah," he jokes. "Who said anything about fucking?"

"I can literally feel your boner, Jungkook."

"Touché."

He doesn't even attempt to downplay it. He puts you down. Gets you through the threshold of his apartment. Shoes off by the door, there's no need to be quiet. Yoongi and Taehyung are still out, and will be for hours. He could take his time if he really wanted.

But what he wants is you. Doesn't waste time. Gets you in his room. Kinda feels like you never left. Jungkook still wishes you hadn't, but doesn't mind the idea of you making it up to him now.

"So," you hum, trailing your fingertips across his desk. "This is where the magic happens?"

He smiles a little bashfully, head dropping for a moment before his eyes are on yours again. "Yeah. You could say that."

Now that you're back in his space, it's a little embarrassing just how many clues there were. A headset rests on the desk—black, robust, with his signature bunny ears secured on top—and a mic is hooked up by the monitor. The webcam doesn't look special, but the keyboard subtly glows in his darkened room. Violet, like the LEDs behind his screen.

A laptop covered in vinyl stickers is closed next to the set-up. He uses it when he's not streaming on his desktop. At least three of the stickers are of the Crescent Collective's logo.

Turning to fully face him, you rest your palms behind yourself and perch on the edge of the desk.

He gets a little kick out of seeing you so flippantly disregard the domain in which he dominates. Gives him a point to prove. Gets him closing the space between you, hands on your waist, dipping to your ass to leverage further back on his desk. Knows it's sturdy, 'cause he built it himself, but has never tested out quite how strong it really is. Thinks now's as good a time as any to find out.

Your legs wrap around his body with no thought, just the innate understanding that you want him in a way you're sure thousands of people have only dreamt of: in his room, on his desk, that damn 'Go Live' button just a few short clicks away.

Reaching beside you, there's a smirk on your lips as you retrieve his headset. Put it on him. Say, "The ears are cute, Tokki."

He rolls his eyes. Is fighting a smile, and currently losing. He's seen some lewd shit during his time on the internet and is well aware of the fanart that includes the ears and little else. Always found it kinda funny, before.

Now? He's so hard it almost hurts, and he thinks he could grow to like it.

As your arms drape over his shoulders, he takes them off. Puts them on you, instead. Adjusts the sizing. Gets them just right for you. Is attentive, like that. Pulls his head back a little, and then realises what a problem you're gonna be for him.

It's not so much the addition of animal ears that's getting him insatiable, but seeing you adorned with a crown that is so inherently his that does it.

Jungkook's no saint. He's had his fair share of one-nighters. A couple hours of fun never to be spoken of again. Since the group of them signed to their management agency, they've been repeatedly told how important it is to get NDA's signed. Something about it always feels so icky to Jungkook. Cruel, almost. Has only had a couple hook-ups since then, both with flings he's known for a good couple of years, with no fear of them spilling the beans on how prettily he whines when he cums.

You're the first new girl in a long time. He knows he should really pause things before you cut to the chase—but then your hand is trailing down his thick forearm, delicately stroking his rabbit moon with a curious smile. Decides he doesn't care.

"The ears are cute," he replies. Teasingly adds, "Nabi."

The position of your arms over his shoulders ensures the tattoos he'd traced the week before are fully displayed for him. As his eyes drop to your butterfly, you're curiously smitten by the way his lips move to press a kiss against it again.

"Suit me?"

"Mhmm," he hums, eyes flickering back up to yours. "Should also get you a pair of butterfly wings, or something."

"I'd make you wear them," you tell him with a cheeky glint in your eye. "Turn you into a butterfly, yourself. Your girlies in the chat would love that."

Jungkook knows without a shadow of a doubt he'd let you. Not for the girlies in the chat, but for you.

Ghosting his lips against yours, he's waiting for you to press down. Is letting you take the lead.

Your kisses are sweet. Tepid. Reserved.

You're feeling; his hands on your waist, the pressure of his lip rings, the presence of his nose.

And then he's feeling; your bare skin as his large hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, the way your legs wrap around him, the vibration of a small groan against his lips.

The skirt you're in is bunched around your hips, and the positioning is just right for you to feel how hard he is against your underwear. It's a little undignified, you'll admit, but you're impatient, so you take control. Reposition his hand between your legs. Encourage him to take things further.

"Yeah?" He checks.

Nodding into a needy kiss, you mumble, "Please."

It might've been a while, but Jungkook's muscle memory is enviable. He's the best player on the team for that very reason.

As he hooks your underwear to the side, he's pleased to be greeted with indications of your arousal. Smirks into the kisses he's giving you, as his fingertips graze against your clit. Trails his lips to your neck. Wants to hear the way you gasp as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you.

"Fuck," you sigh at the welcome intrusion. Nod, as he curls his finger almost immediately. He's got a lot to thank those damn video games for, that's for sure.

Softly moaning, just how he hoped you would, there's an arch to your back as he picks up a pace. The need to perform, almost.

Head tipping back as Jungkook fucks another finger into you, you're unable to think too cognitively. Can only think about the way he feels. The smell of his hair as he presses kisses against your neck, and how prominent his collarbones are as your nails trail up his toned torso.

"Feels so good," you tell him. Move the hand of yours that's been resting on his shoulder to his hair. Tug on it a little. Elicit the prettiest of whines from him.

There's something to be said for making a man—especially one of such strength, stature, status—so weak. Gets you all giggly. Jungkook can feel the satisfaction ripple through your entire body, and it just makes him groan against your neck even more.

"You're so wet," he praises, pulling back to study your face as he plays with you. Lets his thumb stroke up against your clit ever so gently. Revels in the way you get a little shaky. Twitchy. With those damn bunny ears, you really are like a little rabbit. Jungkook finally understands why the fan artists choose to draw him in such a way. It is hot. "You're making me so fuckin' hard."

And then you're giggling again.

"Is it a joke to you, huh?" He smirks. Looks down at your pussy, all swollen and sopping wet for him, in the hazy violet light of his room. Knows that his throbbing cock is gonna stuff you so fuckin' full that laughing won't be an option. Is desperate for it. "How badly I want you is just a big joke to you, huh, bunny?"

The way he groups you in with his moniker is too damn hot.

"Dunno," you rasp, desperately trying to hold off the orgasm that's building inside you. "Fuck me and find out."

Reaching for the button of his trousers, you're quick as you wrestle his jeans down over his ass. Don't bother pushing them down entirely. Just enough to get his boxers exposed, and in turn, his thick cock. Hard and engorged, his desperation for you is evident. A small patch of precum seeps through the fabric of his boxers. He curses as your thumb strokes against it.

"Condom?" You ask, knowing you've got none on you.

"Hold that thought," he says, regretfully pulling away from you.

Watching on as he pushes down his jeans, and strips himself of his shirt, you're at a loss for words. You've seen him like this before, but it's so much hotter knowing that he's gonna be fucking himself into you as soon as he possibly can.

Jungkook could very easily lead you to his bed. Get you comfy. Reach to his bedside cabinet for a condom. Fuck you how he likes—doggy-style, minimal face-to-face contact—and be done with it all very quickly.

Instead, he says, "Stay here."

Doing as you're told, you watch on as he walks to the cabinet, and retrieves a condom. Admire his back, and his broad shoulders. The valley of his spine, and the hard work he's put into crafting his physique. Smirk to yourself as he dips into his boxers. Strokes himself. Once, twice. Tears the packet open with his teeth, just like you were always taught not to do, and rolls the latex down his thick shaft.

"What?" he smirks as he walks back, realising your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

You say nothing. Smile. Hold your hands out for Jungkook to take, just so you can pull him back even quicker.

Lips pressing into yours as he closes the gap, Jungkook is all smiles. Rubs the head of his cock against your pussy, gathering up your arousal all over his tip. Lines himself up with your entrance. Waits for you to give him the go-ahead.

Hand on his ass, you pull him closer. Edge the crown of his cock into you. Whimper. Beg. "Please."

Sinking into you with a laboured grunt, he's surprised with how much tighter you are around his cock than you were with his fingers. Wet and warm, there's an undeniable pleasure that sparks through his body as he gets familiar with the way you feel.

Slowly, his hips begin to pick up a pace. As his tongue strokes into your mouth, there's no dignity to the way he's taking you. The increased pace means heightened moans, and it's not just you—it's him, too.

"Shit, yeah," he grits. "So fuckin' tight, aren't you?"

Whining, you nod into his kisses. Are at his entire disposal as he grips your waist, proving exactly why Tokki is the perfect nickname for him.

As much as he likes the ears, he's a little worried that he might fuck you so hard they fall off. Doesn't wanna break them, and definitely doesn't wanna think about the story the boys would make up when they go live tomorrow to tease him—but also really wants to fuck you harder.

Which is funny, cause the way he tugs them off with such desperation and tosses them down, you'd be forgiven for thinking he couldn't care less about breaking them. Doesn't give you a chance to say anything, 'cause his big hands are cradling your face, bringing you in for desperate kisses once more.

There's a lewdness to the sounds you make together, but Jungkook knows that if he was an entirely different kind of streamer, you'd make bank together. Wonders about the way it would look on camera. Worries. Pauses.

"You good?" You check a little breathlessly as he reaches behind you, just to tug the wire to his webcam from the plus.

"Yeah," he nods, still fiddling around behind you. Smiles in the hedonistic haze as your lips find a new home on his neck. Strokes your hair gently, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. Quietly says, "Just making sure there's no way in hell I accidentally start streaming."

You hum, all purry and pliant. "People would pay good money to see it."

While he agrees, and has had the same thought process, he doesn't care. "You saying I should be charging you for this?"

"Oh, no," you say all very sweetly. "You should be paying me."

"I'll pay you with orgasms," he promises, knowing that it's a rare currency for one-night strands.

You smirk. Pat the top of his head. "Sure you will."

If there's one thing Jungkook loves, it's a challenge.

Pulling back, he turns you around. Gets you bent over his desk with zero opposition from you. Rubs himself against your soaked cunt, then asks, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smirk, and then settle into a sigh as he pushes into you. The feeling of fullness from Jungkook is one that's hard to compare. So thick, and fat, and heavy, his cock really is just as impressive as he is.

With one hand hooked at the crease of your thigh, the other holds the top of your shoulder. Gets you pushed down onto his cock as far as you possibly can be. There's a slight reflection in his streaming plaque beside the monitor, and you're pleased to see just how intensely focused he is on you, brows furrowed, pretty pink lips resting ajar. The silver of his lip rings and chain catch in the light, and you find you can't look at him for too long. He's too hot.

But then he's reaching down for your clit as he fucks into you. Has your legs shaking. The waves of a familiar sensation begin to lap against the shores of your pleasure.

"Fuck," you whine. "Feels good. Keep it like that."

Jungkook knows better than to ignore your requests. Does as he's told, the pressure of his fingers on your clit only deepening. Rubbing calculated circles against you, he knows just how to work you up. Gets you whining. Mewling. Moaning.

"Gonna cum, aren't you?" he smirks, as his own high builds.

"Fuck—"

"C'mon," he husks, feeling your walls tighten around him. He doesn't stop his relentless chase. Will win your orgasms fair and square. Continues pounding into you. Pace fast, strokes deep, he's everything you could ever want and more—and then he's slowing. Keeping you plugged, nice and deep, but focusing on the way he's toying with your clit. "You know you wanna cream for me. All over my cock, pretty Nabi. C'mon—"

"I'm close," you all but whimper. "So—fuck. So close."

"Yeah, you are," he tells you—and then your legs are shaking, pussy tightly clamping around his cock, one hand tense against his desk while the other grabs at his wrist. Uncontrollable, is the way you whine for him. It's so needy—so desperate and pathetic—that it's almost a sob. Jungkook doesn't ease up. In fact, his hips gain a little pace again as your orgasm shatters around you both. He's breathless, but manages to choke out, "Flithy fuckin' cunt. Feels so fuckin' good. Fuck."

The frail limpness of your body as the orgasm smokes away is cute. Jungkook loves it. You're so weak for him. He fucks into you still, chasing his own high, and your whines only get louder. It's overwhelming, but you never want to lose the feeling.

It doesn't take much. Just a minute or so of your tight cunt, and Jungkook is pulling out. Even though he doesn't ask you to, you get to your knees as he tears the condom off.

"In my mouth," you beg, and who is he to reject such an offer?

Jerking himself to completion, Jungkook is all pretty and pathetic when he cums, too. Looks at you with eyes so starry you'd been forgiven for thinking he was a descendant of the constellations.

He milks the final few spurts of himself onto your wet tongue, and curses when you press dainty kisses to his tip. Stroking your tongue against him, you don't want to waste a drop. Look up at him and find that his eyes are resting shut from the pleasure of it all.

Silence surrounds you both, just your beating hearts and laboured breaths filling to the room. He helps you up. Holds you tight. Hugs you for a little while, then presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," you giggle - and then he's smiling, too. Feels vindicated by his irrational thoughts about you over the last few days. He pays no mind to the fact you're still technically dressed, and he's basically naked.

As he sorts himself out, you perch back up on his desk and languidly swing your legs. Enjoy the thought of memories plaguing him whenever he tried to play his little games over the next few days.

"You wanna grab a shower?" he offers. "Food, too? Dunno about you, but I'm fuckin' starving."

"Same," you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. "I'll go wash up, you sort food? Are places still open for delivery?"

Checking his phone for the time, Jungkook is surprised that it's closer to midnight than it is to his morning alarm. Only a handful of places will offer delivery at this time, but that's enough.

"Works for me," he says with a yawn, then opens what you had assumed was the closet door. Reveals an en-suite and knocks his head to the side. "Get your shower. Gimmie a shout if you need anything."

Tiles large and grey, it's the perfect counterpart to his bedroom. A little dark, but it's only because Jungkook hates using the big light. Always flicks the small light switches instead. There's a window overlooking the city, and even though you're only seven floors up, the hills of Yongsan-gu mean that he's got a view you could only dream of.

You're about to start the shower up when he calls through. "Is pizza good?"

"Pizza's good," you call back with a smile. Look yourself in the mirror and wonder how the fuck you ended up in the bathroom of arguably the most famous person you've ever met. Decide it's better not to question it.

The shower begins to cascade down, even if your sins are washed way, you know you won't be able to forget the feeling of Jungkook so easily.

Truth be told, you won't even try.

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:13

"L in the chat," booms the voice of Taehyung through your laptop speakers. His trademark grin rests on his face as he teases Jungkook.

You've only just opened the stream. Instantly, you focus on the prettily lopsided smirk of Jungkook's lips. You've learned it's an almost permanent fixture on his boyish face. Shaking his head, he's adjusting his headset. Making it a little looser so that it'll fit him properly.

No one is questioning it.

What they are questioning, is where the fuck that pretty purple bruise on his neck has come from.

"Cross-fit," Jungkook just shrugs, knowing that it's the colloquial term for suspicious bruises after some idol used the same excuse. Blatant horseshit. Jungkook doesn't care.

"I've never done cross-fit, but I know you're bullshitting," Taehyung snorts.

The chat seems to agree with him.

"Thought I was a virgin?" Jungkook states a little cheekily, making reference to Taehyung's usual banter. "How else would I get one?"

Taehyung knows better than the retort. Knows that Jungkook could very easily slip something about Rae into the conversation.

Virgin? You type through a message on a private discord chat with Jungkook. He'd set it up the day before. Has already sent you, like, a thousand messages. Is what can only be described as obsessed—but it's mutual. Could have fooled me.

As his eyes glance down to his laptop screen, he fails to hide his smile. Had opened your chat on there, cause he didn't wanna accidentally broadcast the messages onto his stream. Despite this, he doesn't care that there are nearly 10,000 people in his stream merely minutes into it. Is far more interested in his chat thread with you. Replies immediately.

Stop distracting meI'm working</3

Giggling as the message pings through to you, there's a giddy quality to the way Jungkook makes you feel.

He'd spent the day in bed with you after your night together. Had wanted you to stay when he started streaming that evening. Said he'd only be an hour or so, and was incredibly pouty when you did leave.

It had just been him on last night's stream—headset off 'cause he didn't wanna adjust it back yet, hoodie on to hide his neck. The other boys were nursing hangovers, so he could do what he liked.

What he did do had you incredibly curious. Was just chatting. Talking to the comment section. Sleepily reeling off facts he'd recently learned about butterflies. Debating over their lifespan.

You're not naive to the fact that Jungkook does this streaming stuff as a profession, and are aware that the more people talking about his stream on other platforms, the more viewers he'll get.

Made sense for him to add fuel to the butterfly-related fire by talking about them.

Had sent you a message earlier that evening to ask what kind of butterfly you had on your skin.

A Monarch, you'd told him.

"See, the thing is," Jungkook had rambled to his viewers a little later on. "Most butterflies have super short lifespans—Monarch's included."

Eyes all starry, lights in his bedroom purple as per usual, he'd looked cosy. You wished you'd have stayed.

"But there's a specific kind. Migrating Monarchs. They're the last of their generation—the final butterflies of the year," he marvelled at the magic of it all.

His facts were a little hazy, but he knew enough. Had been down a you-shaped rabbit hole all afternoon.

"And they migrate, right? Move away from home—somewhere warmer—and then it just extends their lifespan. 180 days. Not 30. That's six months. Six months. It's a long time. It's not fleeting. Not in the slightest."

It's also, curiously, exactly how long you're scheduled to stay in Korea for.

"I dunno," Jungkook had just sighed, a little forlorn, trying to make sense of his thoughts.

He bit down on his bottom lip, stroking his thumb against the hard plastic ears of his headset, then focused on the camera again. Wondered if you were watching.

He simply shrugged. Said, "Counts for something, though, right?"

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #jungkook fluff #streamer!jungkook #non idol au #bts fanfic #bangtan ff #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader

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alphabetboyluvr · 10 months

Text

landslides - 001 | goldrush - jjk

part title credit: goldrush - taylor swift

everybody wonders what it would be like to love you... i can't dare to dream about you anymore... it never will be...

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn't ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he's yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being 'you' to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do.

warnings: fluff more than angst, but it's not clean cut - there's also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you've been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol

wordcount: 6.8K

note from holly: so... i dogsat (? idk if thats a word) for my friend last chuseok and this was the result hahahaha. my friends dog (boba <3) is so tiny and small!! but i've always been a big dog girlie so bam was fun to write. i really love this one and have recently found all of my old notes from around that time detailing the rest of the couples lives, so pt. 2 is in progress.

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

Bam notices the storm roll in before you do. His ears twitch, head lifting from its rested perch on his paws.

“What’s up, baby? Hey?” You coo, his sudden shift obviously prompted by something. His snout begins to twitch, too, and his bottom lip shakes as a small growl vibrates from his throat. His eyes are on the window, stalking the clouds as they roll past. “Hey.”

You sit up a little straighter to lean forward and scratch behind his ear. He leans into it, but doesn’t take his eyes away from the sky.

“You see the rain, huh?” You hum, looking between the pup and the window ahead. You can’t place it yet - it’s too far in the distance - but you find yourself coming to sit beside him. He doesn’t lean up against you like he usually does. Just continues to lightly growl.

There’s no threat behind his noises, no malice - he’s just shouting back at the thunder you can’t hear. When you see a bolt of lightning flash in the distance just beyond the city skyline, you know that it won’t be long until Jungkook’s apartment block is drenched in the weather.

It’s just gone midnight when he calls. His face is a little puffy, smile a little lopsided.

“Hey Bammie,” he coos into the camera. You’ve got it angled down to where the pup is resting his head on your knee, peacefully unwinding after his long walk. Bam doesn’t stir at Jungkook’s voice, so he tries again. “Bammie?”

The way he elongates his puppy’s name is sweet - a tone of voice reserved only for his most trusted companion. He sure as hell has never spoken to you like that.

“Sorry, bud,” you say as you lift the camera up to your face. He’s pouting. “I don’t think the vibrations sound the same through the phone.”

“I miss him,” he says not even caring to acknowledge your thought process. “Is he okay? Was he good on his walk?”

“He’s all good,” you smile. “Best boy in the world. None of the other dogs you mentioned were down at the park, so it was just us two.”

He nods into the camera and purses his lips. “They might all be away. Visiting family.” He rolls over in his bed and lets out a yawn. “How’s the apartment? Got everything you need?”

You nod back. “All good. Might have eaten my way through your cheese stash already. I’m gonna shower then head to bed in a minute.”

“Make sure you leave the bathroom door open a little,” he says. “He’ll whine if not.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciate you doing this. He hasn’t been too much work, has he?”

“He’s good as gold,” you say as you switch to the back camera. The view is serene, and Jungkook’s lips instantly settle into a smile. Bam is up on the sofa with you, snuggled against your lap. The skyline twinkles through his window, the reflection of his mood lamp obscuring some of it - but he’s quietly pleased that you’re using it. It’s how he normally winds down, too. Main lights off, galaxy on his ceiling. Must make Bam feel a little more at ease. You go to scratch behind his ear, and he huffs a little, all content and cosy. “Thanks for asking. He’s never too much work. You trained him well.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums. “Could have trained you a little better, though.”

He laughs when you switch the camera back to your face, mouth open, brows knitted together. “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” he grins now but tries to hide it; to restore the stoicism to his face. It doesn’t work. “What did I tell you about the sofas?”

You purse your lips together as if you’re not smiling. He’s got you there, admittedly.

“Look, he’s just so cute!” Despite the fact you’ve turned the camera back onto Bam, Jungkook can tell you’re pouting. “How could I say no?!”

“Easily!” Jungkook laughs. “That’s how he became so well trained! I leave for one night and-”

“Shuuuush,” you laugh, and when the camera switches back to you, Jungkook can’t help but let his smile persist. You look tired, and so does he, but there’s something about the call that has made you forget all about the fact you were planning on going to bed soon. “My swamp now. My rules.”

“My swamp,” he protests, but the look on his face is so saccharine that you can’t take him seriously. He thinks the same could be said for you. “Anyways, it’s late. Go get your shower. If you need more towels, there are some in the cupboard by the boiler. Don’t forget to turn the vent on - it’s the switch next to the light.”

“Alright, will do,” you nod and then yawn. Bam pricks his head up. “Hey baby,” you speak to him. “Did I wake you?”

“Show me him.”

You switch the camera around to where you’re scratching at Bam’s ear. He leans his head into the scratch, thoroughly enjoying it, your long nails far scratchier than Jungkook’s. It’s not the same - Jungkook is far stronger, so is a little rougher which suits Bam just fine. Still, he likes your scratches better than no scratches at all.

Jungkook whines. “I miss him.”

“He misses you, too. Want me to call in the morning?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re up early tomorrow, heading over to Haedong Yonggungsa in the morning. Probably be up before you. Send me pictures though.”

“Will do. Night, buddy.”

“Night gremlin,” he smiles, and then begins to coo. “Night Bammie. Daddy misses you.”

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him in the way that you do when he says that; lips turned upwards at the very corners, dimples pressing into your cheeks, eyes bright.

“Shut up,” he says, but you’re already laughing.

“Daddy.”

“I am his dad!”

“Daddy.”

“Oh my god, fuck off,” he laughs. “Have nightmares, gremlin.”

“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”

“Fuck off!”

You hang up before he can protest your taunts any more, though he does text you one final ‘fuck off,’ and a reminder that you can bolt his front door if it will make you feel safer.

His apartment is in a high-rise, and his neighbourhood is far nicer than yours. You do the bolt up regardless, and think that it’s sweet that he considered your comfort enough to remind you about it.

Bam sits by the sliding door of the bathroom, the tips of his paws just teetering over the line of the door frame. He rests his head on his legs, snout angled towards the hallway. It still makes you feel a little weird. You don’t really want a dog watching you shower, even if he is a dog and has no real understanding of what’s happening - so you turn your back to him and just reassure yourself that Jungkook showers with the door open wide.

It’s a funny thing, to think about your co-worker’s showering habits. Not one that you’ve ever thought to indulge in before - but Jungkook would go ballistic if he heard you refer to him as your ‘co-worker.’ You’re friends. Pretty good ones, at that.

You’re level players at your company; earn the same wage, hold the same rank. There’s not really any competition between the pair of you - you work in different departments - but are often paired together when the two sections merge for joint projects. You make for a good team.

Over the years, you and Jungkook have also learned that you’re a highly capable team when it comes to playing beer pong against your colleagues on Friday nights, and at the mixed-doubles tennis tournament that your company insists on you participating in every year. It’s either that or be on the Christmas Party Planning committee, and you know which you’d rather do.

Thinking about tinsel in August? No, thank you.

There is however one crucial flaw to your partnerships: how you live your lives. How you manage your money.

See, Jungkook is frugal. He makes big investments - his apartment, his cars, games consoles, Bam. Doesn’t spunk his cash away on the small shit. His apartment is in the heart of the city, only a few floors from the very top. He gets a birds-eye view of the world around him. You don’t even want to imagine how much his deposit cost.

Probably more than you have in your savings. You do spunk your cash away - on the small shit, no less. Clothes, cafes, that sort of stuff. Nothing that holds permanence. It frustrates Jungkook to no end. He thinks you could have a better life if you just used your money wisely - but you’re happy in your slightly cramped apartment, happy when the serotonin of a shopping spree boosts your mood, happy when you’re laughing with your friends over coffee and cake.

You wouldn’t be happy if you felt restricted. You think that Jungkook is.

He disagrees. He has enough in the bank to buy whatever he wants. He has financial freedom.

But there’s a difference. You’re both free in your own ways.

It’s for that reason you’d never work as a couple. Would infuriate one another far too much. Everyone who is close to you both knows this; how badly suited you would be. They’ll joke about all of the women in the office trying to get their mitts on Jungkook - even the married ones - but not you.

It’s funny because they’re right. Everybody wants him.

He collects stars from their eyes and accumulates them in his own. The girls blush and giggle about how he looks at them with galaxies, but they don’t realise what a thief he is. Don’t realise he’s stolen their shine, and incorporated it into his own. A spotlight follows him, and you enjoy watching the show unfold with an amused grin whenever a new secretary catches his gaze for the first time.

It’s not intentional. You don’t think Jungkook realises he does it. In fact, he hadn’t realised that it was such a pattern of behaviour until the midnight squalor of a dive bar had you talking about office conquests, and how the photocopier room had seen his bare ass more than it had seen toner changes.

“Shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon,” you’d grinned.

“Firstly, that’s a horrible phrase - and secondly, it takes two to tango. They’re just as much to blame as I am.”

But they’re not. He’s the only repeat offender.

“And anyways,” he had deflected, sinking down the final dregs of his beer. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint. Everyone’s fucked a colleague at least once.”

You’d just raised an eyebrow.

“You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Like I said - shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon.”

Now, if he’d have said housemate, you would have folded. Downed your drink. Ordered a repeat round.

Something about a shared space - domestication - really gets you. It’s joint laundry loads, shared dinners, movie nights; grocery shopping, D.I.Y. furniture, arguments about who gets the bigger room. More often than not, it never matters, ‘cause you just end up staying in theirs.

You live alone now. After the third time, you knew better than to let yourself fall into the trap once more.

He learns about your affliction a few months later, and goes on tease you relentlessly.

In fact, he mentions it when he propositions you a few weeks before Chuseok. You had both spent the last couple of holiday periods overworked, slogging through the festivities. For the first time since either of you can remember, your workload has eased up.

You’ve already told him you’re planning on doing sweet, sweet fuck all. You’ve told your family you will be working, because you just want to finally breathe for a while; stay in with a tub of ice cream and your favourite films. Speak to no one. Do nothing.

“I’ve got a favour to ask you,” he had said as he approached your desk before the end of the day. It was a Friday, but you weren’t heading for after-work drinks with the usual suspects like you typically did. You had a date, instead. A third one with the same guy - Mingyu - which felt like a miracle. Even Jungkook was a little shocked that the poor guy wasn’t sick of you.

“Go on,” you had mused as you checked over your to-do list for the following week.

“You gotta promise me something first.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won’t fall in love with me.”

You’d swatted him away the ruler on your desk, and told him to get his head out of his ass. “Been able to resist your charms this long, Jeon. Give me some credit.”

“It’s only ‘cause you know I’d reject you, you little gremlin.”

“I thought you wanted a favour? Funny way of going about it.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right,” he had conceded with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me.”

“What do you want?”

“How would you feel about potentially staying at mine over Chuseok to look after Bam? My parents want us to head down to Busan for the weekend and see relatives seeing as I’m finally free and know it’s a big ask but I-”

“Oh my God, yes?!” You had smiled so wide Jungkook thought you might fracture your jaw.

You love Bam.

In fact, he might just be your favourite thing about Jungkook.

Occasionally you walk him with Jungkook on the weekends, when you’re both hungover and need to get out of a slump. You’ve grown up with pets, but moving to the city in your early twenties to pursue your career meant apartment living.

You’re a rural girl deep down, and would never want to keep a pet in a high rise.

Jungkook manages it, but he goes home at lunchtime to walk Bam during the winter. In the summer, when it’s too hot, he goes home at lunch regardless, to lounge around with Bam under the air con.

Sometimes, you go with him. Bam is always pleased to see you.

Jungkook lied and said he asked around because he didn’t want to inconvenience you.

Truth is, he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with his baby. He’d never spent a night away from Bam. Hated the idea. Despised it, in fact. He would have just taken Bam with him to Busan, but didn’t think it would be fair to force him on the journey from Seoul.

Over in Busan, when Jungkook hangs up, the conversation isn’t over. It continues in his head.

“Hey, wait…”

“Mhhm?”

“You just… look nice tonight, that’s all.”

He thinks you’d blush. Would tell him to lay off the soju. Accuse him of getting too drunk for a family get-together. He’d let you. Would take the beating of your false accusations, because it would be far easier than admitting he’s not had a single drop.

He thinks of the hug he’ll give Bam when he gets home; how wild his tail will waggle, how he’ll jump all over the place, and how you’ll be giggling. In his mind, you’ll be smiling just as wide as he is.

You’d stay for dinner. Jungkook would order from your favourite place to say thank you. Bam would snuggle up to Jungkook - on the sofa - and you’d be on the other side, stroking his back. He’d be happy. Bam, not Jungkook. But also Jungkook. Hopefully you, too.

When the time would approach for you to go home, you’d offer to help. Rinse out the containers. Hair up in a claw clip, t-shirt off your shoulder like it so often is.

Jungkook doesn’t notice, but his hands begin to trail down his body as he thinks of you. His phone is still on his chest, rising and falling with every beat of his heart. The tips of his fingers stroke against his skin.

He thinks of you laughing with him about something inconsequential. You’d flick water in his direction when he’d make some joke at your expense. It’d all be in good humour.

But then he’d flick some back at you, and water war would break out. Bam would run excitedly between the pair of you, Jungkook chasing you around the kitchen island with wet hands - and you’d do the exact same back. You’d flick water over the counter, tap still running and he’d call you a gremlin.

There’s a smile on his lips as he thinks of his. His hands roam further south. He’s ticking at his abdomen. It’s nice. Feels calm. He likes to engage his senses when he thinks of scenarios like these. Makes it feel more real.

But then he’s thinking of your shirt and the fact it’s white.

And then he’s imagining catching up with you, holding you captive as he angles the tap towards your face. You’ll be shrieking and scrambling to get away, Bam by your feet, Jungkook laughing.

He’d relent, but only enough for you to twist to face him.

Jungkook’s fingers are by his thighs. Stroking. Caressing. He’s avoiding his cock. Knows it’s firm. His index finger spreads to his balls. Teases.

And then he thinks of your body pressed against his torso, your ass to the counter.

You’d both be soaked.

He’d look at your lips. Look in your eyes. Feel your chest against his. He’d swallow hard.

It’s at this point he forgets about Bam in the scenario. It’s just you and him.

His palm rests over the length of his cock. Presses down. His hips roll.

He’d tell you that you’ve made a mess. You’d tell him to clean it up. His heart would be racing. So would yours.

And it’s funny, because his heart actually is. It’s beating so fucking hard in his childhood bedroom, that he thinks his parents must be able to hear it through the walls.

He’s in a far-too-firm single bed, but in his head, he’s with you in his kitchen.

He begins to grip his cock, long fingers wrapping around his shaft. He pulls up. Pushes back down. Says your name. Whines.

He doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Just thinks about you.

Thinks about the way it would feel to sink his lips into yours; the first bite of a forbidden fruit. Thinks about that quick tongue of yours, and if it would be just as quick to find its way into his mouth. Thinks about your manicured nails that Bam loves so much, and how they’d scratch against his scalp instead. Thinks about the way his hips would rock against you, kind of like they are now; pulsing beneath his duvet.

His mind jumps. Skips the foreplay. Doesn’t mean to - but the thoughts are intrusive. Insidious. Insatiable. He can’t help it.

He pushes up into his hand. Pauses. Waits out the feeling. Retracts. Repeats.

In his head, it’s you that he’s pushing into.

The sensation is entirely different, granted, but - fuck - he hasn’t gotten himself off all week and hasn’t had sex in far longer, so it all feels the same to him.

He hasn’t worked out the mental logistics.

His imagination is jumping from the kitchen to his bedroom and then back to the kitchen again. Can’t decide where all of this is happening - and then suddenly, he finds himself railing you in the utility room.

You’re perched above the washer, held in place by him. He can smell the laundry detergent. He’s got spotlights in the room, but they’re turned off. Only lights from the hallway and the city skyline illuminate you.

It’s obscure. The shadows in his head conceal you a little. He’s gripping your waist beneath your shirt. The baby gate which keeps Bam out of the laundry room is closed.

You’re not talking, just fucking, fucking, fucking and -

“Fuck,” he whines, hand is jerking at his cock, heart rate stuttering.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.

Shouldn’t let his mind jump again to a point where you’re fucking naked, and your sodden shirt is on a pile of yet-to-be-done laundry.

But then it jumps again, and one of his towels is on the floor. He’s laying down, back against it. The same position that he’s in now in his childhood bedroom - but he’s thinking about you. The silhouette of your body. The warm curves of your body. The way you bounce on his cock and then-

Oh god, it’s torture the way his cock throbs. Pre-cum leaks from his tip as his speed builds. It’s just a fantasy. Nothing more nothing less. But it’s you. And then he’s thinking about pulling you down for a kiss, and the scent of your perfume and the way you’d moan into his mouth and then his legs are shaking, torso tensing.

He’s taking it too far. Too fucking far. You. Fuck. He can’t. But he doesn’t stop. Just keeps going. Fucks his hand like it’s your pussy.

He’s pulling himself closer, closer, closer, and then he thinks about your voice, and the way you called him Daddy, and he can’t help himself. The pressure that releases in his stomach is catastrophic. Jungkook mewls your name. Calls you baby. Unloads all over himself. White hot cum paints his belly. Seeps into his belly button. Makes a mess of his hand as he coaxes the last few ropes out. It’s been a while since his last nut, but the amount he produces is not fucking normal.

It rolls down the side of his toned torso, Jungkook swallowing harshly as he tries to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t think he can. Doesn’t know what to do with himself. Just kind of lays there. Curses. Knots his brows together. Is frustrated with himself.

You’ve been friends for years. He’s never done anything like this before. He chalks it up to nothing more than him just being a little too horny for his own good. Cleans himself off. Puts his phone on charge. Berates himself for being a piece of shit. Spends a good ten or so minutes staring at the ceiling with an empty head before he falls asleep.

And it’s funny, because when you wake up in the morning, panties damp, the dream you had about Jungkook railing you in his own damn bed, you find yourself looking across the space where he usually sleeps. You reach ouch. Stroke the emptiness. Curse. Spend the rest of the day unbearably horny. It frustrates you. Makes you snappy with Jungkook when he calls.

He asks if you’ve seen Mingyu. You tell him no. He says maybe you should - but makes sure to add, “He’s still not allowed in my apartment.”

“I’m not gonna bring anyone into your space, Jungkook.”

It’s something he knows, and something he trusts you not to do, but he’s still reinforcing boundaries. Making sure that there are still some left. He thinks that if he pushes you closer to someone else, it will sort his brain out. Alleviate him of the guilt that he’s feeling.

But you don’t see Mingyu.

When Jungkook calls again that evening to find you walking Bam alone, he’s pleased. Doesn’t want some guy you’re fucking anywhere near his most prized possession. Bam, that is. Not you. But now that he thinks of it, he finds he doesn’t want Mingyu anywhere near you, either.

“Good day?” You ask, voice a lot lighter than it had been earlier.

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t really smile. “I miss Bammie.”

You pout. “He misses you too. He’s gonna be so excited when you get home.”

The camera switches to the back camera so he can watch Bam bound along the path. He’s on his lead, snout sniffing in all the flowerbeds. It’s dark out, but there are enough lights on the trail for him to be able to see clearly.

“How is he? Eating okay? Going to the bathroom okay?”

“Eating like a champ, and producing shits to confirm that,” you say flatly. It’s definitely your least favourite part of animal ownership - but the reward is so much greater than having to pick up shit off a sidewalk.

“That’s my boy,” Jungkook grins, before turning his focus to you. “You all good? Seemed a little stressed earlier.”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change when the front camera flips back to you, but he finds his heart racing again. When you turn your head to check the car that’s driving past, he notices your hair is up with a claw clip. Just like it was in his… thoughts about you the night before. He likes how attentive you are - how you checked the source of the noise. You’re protective. Follow your instincts. Thinks you’re the best person he could have asked to look after Bam.

“I’m all good,” you say, and you really are.

“I know it’s not exactly the relaxing Chuseok you were planning-”

“Jungkook, it’s fine,” you smile. “It’s been nice. I like Bammie far more than I like you.”

“Understandable.”

You both smile, and Jungkook begins to babble about his day, telling you stories about his parents, and his weird cousin who never knows when to not say inappropriate things, and the aunt who keeps trying to set him up with all of her friends’ daughters.

“Don’t shit where you eat,” you remind him. “Sounds too close to home. Your auntie would never be out of your business.”

“I know, I know,” he rolls his eyes. “And hey - it’s been, like, a year since I last did that! Cut me some slack, gremlin. Anyways, Mingyu works in our building. You’re basically shitting where you eat.”

“I’m actually… I think I’m gonna cool things off with him.”

“Oh?”

“It’s like not a big deal. I’m just not really feeling it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not,” Jungkook admits, but is sombre as he does so. He remembers how happy you’d seemed after the first few dates. “But I am sorry that you haven’t found the right guy yet, gremlin.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll find the love of my life at the dog park tonight.”

“You are not allowed to use my baby as a flirting tactic.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Too late - I’m already here and there is an absolute DILF. Byeeeee.”

“Wait, no-”

You hang up before he can finish, with a grin on your face to rival a Cheshire cat.

The park is empty. Not a single DILF in sight. You ignore his call when he rings back. Will let him sweat it for a bit.

Jungkook lies awake that night.

Doesn’t do much.

His family are still chatting in the sitting room, but he can’t draw himself away from the sanctuary of his own private space, where your voice is still echoing around the room. He’s starting to understand why you’d been craving your space so much for the holiday period.

He doesn’t wanna have to return to the room with a false smile, and a feeling in the pit of his stomach that could rival the ache of getting the ferry across Busan harbour during monsoon season.

Doesn’t want to form cognitive thoughts that distract him from his mindless reflections of you.

Jungkook’s mind works like a house, and right now he’s in the annexe.

He rarely ever goes in there.

Finds he gets too comfortable and neglects the rest of the house. He’s got a garden to tend to, a kitchen to clean, and beds to make - but why would he leave the annexe when it has everything he needs? He’s comfortable there.

It’s normally reserved for the hyper-fixations he’s trying not to fixate on. He locks them away. Hasn’t really visited since he got hooked on GTA5 when he should have been studying for the University Entrance Exam. It’s still there, and he knows better than to pop it in his games console - but there’s someone else on the couch, now. It’s not just him in his mind-annexe. Someone’s in his space. He daren’t let himself go further into the room.

In fact, he’s desperately trying to jump across to the main house. Get himself out of the thoughts that are gonna consume him. He needs to close that God damn door.

But he watches the figure like a car crash. He’s scared. Unable to look away.

Not for fear of it being a monster hidden in the depths of his mind.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Monsters don’t wear their hair up with butterfly-shaped claw clips, or let the clasp of their necklace trail down their spine like that. Monsters don’t twist their back out of habit just to make it click. Monsters don’t spend their days doodling in a journal like the figure on his couch is doing.

But you do.

An iteration of Bam rests up against Jungkook’s leg in his mind, nose wet, tail lightly wagging, so he puts his hand on his pup’s shoulder for comfort. To support him. To guide him away from the annexe and back into the damn main house.

“C’mon,” he says to Bam, expecting him to leave. Expecting him to follow his commands.

It’s his head, after all - but Bam doesn’t heed his commands. Instead, his claws click against the hardwood floor and towards the figure on Jungkook’s couch. A palm outstretches, and Bam leans into it. Hums in content as a set of dark nails scratch at his ear.

“Hey, baby Bammie,” the figure sings and Jungkook knows that voice. Knows it so well that it’s hardly a surprise it’s embedded into his brain so perfectly.

And he knows.

He knows if he lets the person turn around exactly who it’s gonna be. He knows that he can’t let it happen. He won’t.

Because he and you are friends; nothing more, nothing less. Incompatible at best. A match made in hell; so wrong it could never be right.

Jungkook sits up. Shakes his head. The world in his mind tears away into darkness. He stands and tells himself to get a grip before joining his family. He needs the distraction. Needs to have cognitive thoughts. Can’t let himself get trapped. Can’t let him kid himself into thinking that you’re anything more than his friend.

It’s just cause he’s missing Bam, he reasons. Emotions are getting all mixed up. It’s the affection he feels for his beloved best friend that is getting misplaced onto you - although, if he thinks about it (which he won’t (knows better by this point (knows his mind can’t be trusted to behave))), he’d realise that you are his best friend.

It’s unfair to compare you to Bam because you’re an entirely different species, but there’s no other human he likes better than you.

One more day, and he’ll be home. One more day, and he won’t have to call you when he’s all sleepy and confused over his feelings. One more day, and things will be back to normal. One more measly day.

And then he’ll be reunited with Bam, and he won’t have the stress of family or thinking about the week of work ahead to contend with.

One more day. He can do this.

He will do it. Will barrel home at the speed of lightning; will stop only for red lights and maybe the occasional gas station snack, potato spirals on a pointed wooden skewer and deep-fried chicken slathered in a sauce he can never quite figure out the recipe for.

He’ll think about picking you up some bungeoppang - the ones filled with choux, not red bean paste - because he knows that you adore it so. There have been occasions when you’ve begged him to drive you out of the city to the large gas station out West just so you could have bungeoppang from one specific stall.

The signage is faded, and the prices haven’t changed since 2009, but that’s how you know it’s the good shit. A family recipe batter passed down for generations. The woman who makes it is always the same, and though she never remembers you, you always remember her. Beam so brightly Jungkook thinks he’s going blind whenever you spot her.

It’s only because of that one time you’d showed up with the sole mission to retrieve some of the delicious delicacies, only to be confronted with a handwritten ‘closed today, back tomorrow’ note taped to the menu. You never know when the next family emergency or trip out of town might be for your beloved bungeoppang-making Ajumma.

It’s a little after midday when Jungkook’s car rolls into the gas station. He’ll be home soon.

He tells himself that he’s just doing as he always does. Will get his tornado potato. Wolf it down. Go back for some chicken, maybe some tteok.

He’s stayed out of the annexe today. Doesn’t even think about the doorway because he knows the magnetic pull is far too strong for his cobalt heart.

Had ignored your call this morning - sorry, just saying goodbye to everyone. will see you later. - and had pushed all thoughts of you to the side. He’s even tried to stop thinking about Bam because thoughts of him will inevitably lead to thoughts of you and Jungkook is getting dizzy, quite frankly. It’s like he’s chasing his tail, never knowing when to admit defeat.

At least Bam gets enjoyment out of it when he does it. All Jungkook gets is lingering feelings of remorse.

But as he hits the home straight, a small paper bag full of choux bungeoppang cooling down on his passenger seat, his head starts to clear. He’s fixed the lock on the gate that leads to the annexe. Won’t go down that path.

Jungkook arrives ahead of schedule. Parks his car, and doesn’t tell you he’s arrived. Leaves his bag in the boot of the car, but picks up the pastries from his passenger seat.

Opens the door of his apartment quietly. You don’t hear it. Are too busy dancing around the living room with Bam to some mid-noughties classic.

“Hey,” you laugh a little breathlessly as finally notice him. He’s leaning against the wall. Is wearing his glasses, to make up for the long drive. You think it’s a crying shame he doesn’t wear them at work, too.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“No, not all,” you say. There are deep creases below your eyes, testament to the size of your smile. “Me and baby Bammie-” you reach over and stroke at his sides, a little rough and tumble, but perfectly joyous “- were just burning off a little energy before you got home.”

Jungkook crouches, arms outstretched for Bam. The puppy knocks into Jungkook’s chest, legs all moving slightly out of coordination, excitable whines sounding in his throat. His tail wags so fast you think he’d be able to produce electricity if he really tried.

They match each other’s energy; delirious happiness, content only when in one another’s presence.

“Hey buddy,” he coos. “Daddy’s home. I missed you. Missed me too, hey? C’mere.”

His strong hands stroke Bam’s sides, and you watch how playful they both are with unadulterated awe. It seems absurd how similar the two of them are; man and his best friend.

“He was lost without you,” you confirm.

“It’s that right?” Jungkook pouts as he scratches behind Bam’s ears, cradling his face in his hands. “Did Bammie miss Daddy?”

Bam barks. Yes.

“Hey, I’m sorry, boy. I’m home now, though. Daddy’s home.”

Yes, you think. Yes, he is.

The night dissolves much like Jungkook thought it would. You stay for dinner. Watch crappy entertainment shows, and laugh at how absurd people can be. There’s warmth in his apartment, even though he hasn’t turned the heating on.

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this,” Jungkook says softly as midnight approaches. Bam sighs. There’s rain on the windows, but the storm doesn’t bother him tonight. Not in the slightest. “Thank you.”

Your head shakes. Smile perseveres. “Happy to do it. You know how much I love Bam.”

Silence wraps around your words like a velvet bow, pulled taut. There’s no double knot, but there needn’t be. It isn’t unravelling any time soon.

“So,” you change topic. “How long do you reckon it will take the new secretary to fall in love with you? I’m thinking maybe four days.”

Jungkook wants to make a joke; tease you about how your mind jumped from how much you love his dog, to the idea of loving him. Not you loving him, granted, but it only took a few electrical signals between neurons for you to get there. Must associate him with love pretty closely.

“Four days? Far too quick.” Jungkook pauses. “You’ve been staying here for four days. Reckon that’s an appropriate amount of time to fall in love with someone?”

He’s being facetious. It’s all in jest and yet you feel your heart beat a little faster. Only for a moment. There’s a mild concern in your features, fearful that he can somehow sense the thoughts you’ve been having; the fantasies, the daydreams, the moments of weakness.

You look at him with eyes he doesn’t recognise. Your lashes are low. Sultry, even. Suggestive. Teasing.

And then, they roll.

“Jeon, you have those poor girls on their knees within a single ‘hello’. Don’t act like you don’t know it, you big old flirt.”

“If Bam wasn’t so peaceful, I’d kick you,” he mumbles, stroking at the dark fur behind his pup’s ear. Bam sighs, content to have him back. There’s a smile on Jungkook’s lips. Both are perfectly content. Both are happy to be with the people they like the most in the world.

“He’d just defend me,” you taunt. There’s a serenity to your jokes, and light-hearted banter that means nothing more, nothing less than just enjoyment of one another’s company. “I’m his favourite now.”

Jungkook laughs. Scratches a little firmer behind Bam’s ear. “You hear that, boy? Gremlin really thinks you’d choose her over me.”

You pull your torso back. Turn your body to face his. Let disbelief wash over your features, as if Jungkook saying shit like that’s a surprise. The movement alerts Bam, his head lifting, the chain links of his collar rattling. He looks over to you, then back to Jungkook.

“He LOVES me.”

“I thought dogs are supposed to take after their owners, though?” Jungkook teases. “And I can’t fuckin’ stand you.”

Your playful shock dissolves into narrowed eyes and a suppressed grin. Bam’s looking at you again, so you cup his dainty face and scratch the underside of his jaw. “You hear that, baby Bammie? How are you so lovely when your Daddy is such an asshole?”

Jungkook’s steady gaze lifts to you from Bam. You’re still cooing at the puppy, scratching beneath his snout, but Jungkook’s back in that damn annexe again. He isn’t smiling - but his eyes are unbelievably soft.

So, so velvety. Like satin, maybe; ribbons tied around ponytails. Brushed cotton, perhaps; his still-warm bedsheets fresh out of the tumble dryer.

Soft, like he imagines your hair would be; released from its claw clip, falling around his face. Soft, like he imagines your lips would be; pressed against his, in the privacy of his bedroom. Soft, like he imagines your laugh would be; soundtracking the living alarm clock that is Jeon Bam, as he bundles onto Jungkook’s bed at just gone six-thirty the following morning.

But then you look up at him, and his stare is hard. Still sparkling, yes - but diamonds, not stars. Concrete speckled. Pennies tossed in an empty well; the steel bolt of his door which keeps the outside world at bay.

Hard, like he imagines your teeth would be; tugging on his bottom lip in the shadows of his bedroom. Hard, like he imagines your nails would be; leaving a trail of ruby red sin down his back. Hard, like he imagines your laboured breaths would be; lips resting ajar against his, your very essence pouring into him as he pushes into you.

Hard. Soft. Confusing and conflicting, and just so unbelievably him.

“What?” you question, bemused by the way his demeanour changed. “‘Daddy’ really gets you, huh?”

“Does fuck all for me,” he says with a little temperance, but there’s a smirk on his lips. His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek.

A few have tried the moniker on him, but it never fit well. Would fall from their lips and crash to his bedroom floor. He’d just kiss them to shut them up.

But you… You have him reconsidering. Have him a little hot beneath his sweats.

It’s not really the idea of being your Daddy, but the concept of being one full-stop that has him adjusting his legs slightly. He’s a man of big investments, after all. No greater investment than starting a life with another person. He likes the idea of it.

Makes him think of you talking with a toddler - I’m not sure, baby, go ask Daddy -and the pitter-patter of feet across the hardwood floors of his apartment. Makes him think how gentle you are with Bam, and how wonderful he knows you’d be with a kid. Makes him think all kinds of shit he’s never let himself indulge in before.

When he goes to bed that evening, and his sheets are seeped in the scent of your perfume, he thinks of it all over again.

Thinks of you.

And realises he can’t think about you without his heart racing, any more.

The door of the annexe in his mind is broken, now. Off its hinges.

And apparently, so is he.

Shit.

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alphabetboyluvr · 11 months

Text

once the thrill expires | jjk

title credit: cardigan - taylor swift

pairing: college!jungkook x female reader

synopsis:

your housemate-turned-fwb takes another girl home after a night out

warnings: angsty, smutty turmoil. it's not that bad, but it definitely isn't a happy lil number. fingering, oral sex (f receiving), rimming (f receiving), vaginal sex, doggy, protected (!!) sex, lil spanks, jaykay sorta makes out with her ear???, jaykay is a fawk boy who needs to learn self-control, oc is holding out for something that'll never happen, multiple partners in one night (jk), jk calls the reader diz (dizzy)

wordcount: 5.8K

note from holly: virgo boy trauma for you in the form of a jk one shot lmao. it's rare you get virgo boy shit laid this bare but he he i love oversharing on the internet! there's an old paragraph from yet another virgo boy fic hidden in here, too so if you think it looks familiar, that'll be why!!

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

The knock on your en-suite bathroom door comes as a surprise.

The subsequent twist of the lock mechanism from a coin wedged in the bolt on the other side does not.

There’s only one person it would be.

And so you don’t yell. Don’t tell him to go away, even if you do hug your legs into your chest a little tighter.

Sitting on the floor of your shower, dignity is preserved - but with skin as red as the flags that Jungkook freely hands you, and mascara staining your cheeks from the onslaught of piping hot water showering down on you, how dignified can you really be?

No words are spoken as the steam billows from the room, Jungkook not caring to shut the door behind himself. He takes a perch on the closed lid of the toilet, elbows to his knees, tattooed hands clasped beneath his chin. Refuses to look anywhere other than you.

There’s perplexion to his taut jaw - a frown embedded in his brows - but more than anything, there’s an overwhelming sense of confusion in his soft eyes. You’re unaware of the way he’s mirroring your expression back at you; how defeated you look, wet hair sticking to the side of your face, an emptiness in your gaze that is pale in comparison to the void in your chest.

With nothing but the pitter-patter of your shower to fill the space, you’re thankful that he can’t hear the way your heart is beating, or how you’re sniffing back the tears you were freely crying before he arrived.

“Jem messaged me,” he eventually says, quiet beneath the sound of the water. Leaning back, he wipes a palm over his face, then pushes it back into his dishevelled hair. Lets his hand fall between his legs, then shrugs as he looks at you as if to say, 'Don’t look at me like that' or 'It’s not my fault.'

And realistically, you know that it isn’t. Whatever he’s done is within the parameters of what was agreed upon. The way you feel - like Jungkook has stolen the moon and stopped the tides from turning - is not.

It’s not like either of you had ever expected to let things get this far, and definitely not for this long.

What had started as quiet kisses in the corners of clubs when your friends weren’t looking, had catapulted into drunken hook-ups after those aforementioned nights out.

He’d call you Dizzy, ‘cause he was convinced you looked at him like you’d been spinning in circles, all awe-struck and smiley. Pretty. Like a giggle was on the tip of your tongue at all times.

Was easy, back then. Convenient. He was newly single. Not looking for anything.

You’d been quietly harbouring an illicit crush on him from the day you moved into your shared university accommodation. Had been waiting for the stars to align - and once they had, you were certain that soulmates had to exist.

It’s the only way you can explain the small earthquake that happened half the world away at the very time you first met, the tectonic plates shifting to make sure you were perfectly presented to one another.

You didn’t feel the tremors - would have been impossible - but your heart certainly felt something. Adrenaline? Limerence? You’re not sure.

Whatever it was only became more and more prevalent with every tipsy hold of his hand on the way to clubs, or moments stolen in secrecy in the house you now share with six of your friends.

Now in your final year of university, if you spent as much time studying, as you do fretting over Jungkook - what he’s up to, who he’s with - maybe you’d get a first-class degree.

You’re on track for a 2:1.

He’s on track for a first, though.

You choose to believe it’s because he’s naturally more academically inclined (as if you didn’t write an entire paper for him last semester), and not because he spends significantly less time thinking about you.

There’s no need for endless thoughts, though.

The arrangement is simple: You’re friends.

Best friends. Spend all your time together. Are plus ones to events. Fill the void that a partner should fill; at the winter balls, cinema screenings you don't want to see alone, and in the hushed privacy of midnight intimacy. He gets you off when you need it, and you him.

Kisses are never shared between lips - apart from that one summer when he accidentally said he was in love with you, then took it back a week later under the guise of not wanting to ‘ruin’ the friendship.

You don’t speak about that summer.

Hook-ups are in your room, always, ‘cause you’ve only got Jem in the room next door. Jungkook’s room is up on the middle floor, surrounded by all the boys. They’d realise what’s going on far too quickly.

It’s simple - yet excruciatingly complicated when there’s a lack of commitment, and Jungkook looks at you in the way that he does.

His lips are a little deeper than their usual pink this evening, but you put it down to alcohol.

Denial is a wonderful thing, and delusion even greater.

Still, he leans forward to push the shower door open. Leans further still, then knocks the tap off. Lets the water trickle down the drain, the hum of the pipes murmuring like your unspoken grievances.

Rivulets of water chase down your skin. Jungkook watches one race from your knee to your ankle, running straight over the bruises from messy nights out and the small cut at the bottom of your calf from the fountain you’d both traipsed through when you were a little too merry a few nights prior.

He’d given you a piggyback the entire way home, blood staining the white of his shirt; the very essence of you embedded now in the fabric of him.

He’d patched you up after you got home. Showered with you, right here, then carried you the measly five or six steps to your bed. Had told you that you’d definitely get sepsis and die. Kissed it better, then decided he didn’t know any better, and trailed his lips up your leg. Took pity on your impending death and gave you a little, lovely death just to soften the blow.

Funny, how you think sepsis would be preferable over whatever the fuck it is that you’re feeling now.

“Jem messaged me,” he repeats. Presses his lips together, the ring in the corner of his mouth glistening under the white lights of the bathroom. “Said I should check on you. Been in the shower for an hour, apparently.”

Well, you think to yourself, bitterness wrapping around your words like poison ivy. You’ve checked. You can go now.

The words don’t manifest in your throat. Nothing does. Not even the echo of a sob you’ve been holding in since he first stepped foot within your sanctuary.

Instead you’re silent as you get to your feet, not caring for your nakedness. It’s nothing Jungkook hasn’t seen before. Probably knows your body better than his own at this point. Can look at the faded bruise on your chest and know that it was left there by his lips last week. Can pick out which ones of your dainty linework tattoos were there before he met you, and which ones have been acquired since.

It’s a quiet intimacy, the way Jungkook looks at you. There’s no towel in the bathroom - an oversight by your tipsy brain when deciding you needed to wash yourself clean of the man in front of you after arriving home from the club - and Jungkook doesn’t care to offer you one.

Insanity is the product of looking at your body, he thinks. Can’t remember a time he’s ever seen you like this and hasn’t wanted to be inside you. He’s a simple man in pursuit of simple pleasures, and the way you fit him like a glove is the simplest pleasure of them all.

“Hm?” He questions your lack of a response.

His deep black eyes are just like the depths of the ocean floor, and it feels like he’s dragging you right down every single time he looks at you like this. Softly. Tenderly. Sweetly. As if he actually gives a shit.

There’s no room for two in this bathroom. It’s not a space designed to be shared, no matter how many times you’ve both squeezed into the shower under far different circumstances - though now you come to think of it, perhaps they weren’t so dissimilar.

It was always Jungkook’s pursuit of pleasure that put you in that position, just like it put you there tonight.

“Hey,” he says quietly, as you turn to leave, his grip on your waist pulling you between his legs. You don’t look at him. Just keep your head turned to face out of the room - but you make no attempt to leave. Especially when his nose brushes up against the bottom of your ribs right between your breasts, and he husks, “Why are you being like this?”

The softness of his lips as he presses them against your sternum, long lashes splayed across the top of his cheeks, has you spiralling. Kind of feels like he’s twisting a corkscrew through your heart. You know he’ll rip it right out - but maybe you’ll let him, if it means he’ll kiss the wound better.

“Hmm?” He hums. One of your hands rests on his shoulder, the other in his hair, and that’s how Jungkook knows he’s rectified the damage done for a short while. It’s like putting washi tape over holes punched in the walls - useless, and bound to fall off eventually, but ever so pretty in the meantime. Another washi-tape kiss is pressed to your skin, a little higher this time. “We had a good night, didn’t we?”

The tenderness of his voice rewrites the events of the evening. A good night.

Not one with tears, and jealousy, and arguments that people who claim to be just friends have no business having. A night shared together, perhaps, with no one else to intrude.

Didn’t we?

You so prefer this false chain of events - the one where he left the bar with you, and held your hand in the cab ride back just like he’d done in the cab ride there.

“Is she still here?”

He’s surprised that you’re mentioning it. Half-expected you to act like it never happened. Like she never happened. Is what you usually do, whenever he goes home with someone that isn’t you.

Still, he just continues to gently stroke your sides. Doesn’t present you with any sort of weakness.

“No.”

“Did you fuck her?”

There’s a little venom to your tone; the poison ivy around your thoughts sprouting now from your throat.

Her. Some inconsequential girl that neither of you will likely ever see again. Looked nothing like you, but a hell of a lot like his ex.

“No, Diz,” he softens the sternness of his tone with a name only he calls you. “I didn’t fuck her.”

You’ve no idea if this is a lie or not.

It’ll be accepted as truth for an hour. Maybe two. Just enough time for you to convince yourself that you’re the one he wants. That he couldn’t bear to fuck anyone else. That he sent her on her way after a kiss or awkward fumble, because he realised no one else could feel as good as you.

You’ll ignore the fact you know he’s here because Jem messaged him.

You’ll ignore the fact he thinks you’ve been in the shower for over an hour, and has no actual knowledge of the events of it all.

You’ll ignore the scratch mark on his back, and in the morning you’ll believe it was you who left there even though your nails are bitten right down.

The lies you’ll tell yourself will be far more grand than the ones Jungkook ever tells you. Nobody can ever hurt you quite like you hurt yourself.

And so, against your better judgement, you let him follow you to your bed.

There's a clang as he tosses his rings down into the ceramic dish beside your bed. It's white, and speckled in tiny black dots, and matches the one Jungkook has in his own bedroom. Not really a surprise. He was the one who bought it for you. Before then, he used to just tuck his rings beneath your pillows - but he kept losing them, and he found it annoying having to rummage around for them whenever he was trying to make a silent exit so as to not wake you.

You tell yourself that small things like this are Jungkook's way of integrating himself into your life; creating permanence. In reality, it's just something that makes it easier for him to leave.

Leaving is the last thing on your mind right now, though, and it will be until he comes.

It used to be different. He used to stay. You convince yourself each and every time that he’ll do what he used to do before things got so confusing. That he’ll stay, and that things will be okay.

You let him kiss your skin, but he’ll never kiss your lips. Let him lay claim to your body, even though you know he’ll never lay claim to your soul.

It’s nice to pretend.

Nice, when he lays you down and rids himself of his shirt. Nice, when he presses your legs apart, and looks at you like you’re the first woman he’s ever laid eyes upon. Nice, when he says shit like, “Such a nice cunt,” and “Let me make you feel good.”

So nice, when he strokes up and down your inner thigh, eyes trained on your pussy.

So, so nice when he slowly drips a little spit between his pursed lips and watches as it trails down your folds.

So fucking nice, when he spreads you with his index and middle finger, groaning at the sight of you.

See, Jungkook can be nice. Can be honest. Can tell you how much he wants you, and you can believe him without having to do mental gymnastics over it all.

As he sinks his middle finger into you - “Shit. So wet for me, aren’t you?” - Jungkook is on his best behaviour. He’ll make you feel so good that you’ll forget he ever made you feel bad, cause he needs this. Needs you.

Not in the life-debilitating, earth-shattering, universe-bending way that you need him, but in a way that isn’t too dissimilar.

You’re his best friend. He loves you in his own, curious way. Would lay his life on the line for you. Just can’t seem to keep his dick in his pants for no other reason than selfish gluttony.

It’s his fatal flaw, but he just thinks everyone has them. That most people are like this.

Of the seven deadly sins, Jungkook wields them all. Too proud to admit his wrongdoings. Greedy in his need to have everything life can offer, and how he refuses to limit himself to just you. His lust and gluttony go hand in hand - yet whenever any one else with similar predispositions look in your direction, he turns green with envy. Green, until he’s red, wrath taking hold.

But he’s lazy, too. Far too settled in how easy it is to have his way with you. Why would he try harder when you never make him?

That’s your cardinal sin: desperation.

It reeks. Spiced vanilla and black cherry. Tarnishes your skin, until Jungkook licks it from you.

And so as his lips press down your legs, wet and wanting, you don’t object. In fact, you don’t really do anything. You just allow it to happen.

Because you are desperate - for him, his approval, his desire. His heart.

You’ll never get it, mind you, for his heart is hollow.

Saw every example of what he considered to be true love crackle and crumble until it fell apart. Parents divorced. High-school sweetheart cheated. Love, as you know it, doesn’t exist in Jungkook’s understanding of life.

You never stood a chance. Not really.

The only times his heart is full is when he steals enough adoration from yours, and cosplays it as his own. Shines it back at you, and tricks you into thinking that maybe he did mean it when he mumbled false declarations into your lips.

But that was three summers ago, now, and Jungkook is a creature of habit. Too stuck in his ways to ever change. Comfortable in this chaos with you.

‘Cause while the other girls are fleeting, and fun, and always very nice, they’re never comfortable. Not like you are.

“I liked your dress tonight,” he whispers, as he pushes a second finger into you. Pumps them gently, palm skywards, coaxing soft little moans from your lips. Curls them just right, just like he always does.

The affection of such a compliment rids you of the haunting way he’d looked at you earlier that evening.

Up, down. No smile. Turned away to change the song coming through the aux at pre-drinks. Didn’t look at you again until he was passing out shots for everyone to take. Just nodded towards your necklace - the one his hobbyist silversmith mother made you for Christmas - and asked, “You like it?”

The pendant is small. Embossed with the letters DJ - the name his mother collectively calls you whenever you spend the summer together at his place. The hammered edge of the pendant matches the ring that wraps around your thumb. Another one of her creations, gifted to you by him for your birthday.

“Of course I do,” you’d said. Seemed silly for him to ask. You wear it most days.

“Good,” he’d nodded, then took his shot and pretended as if he wasn't all too aware that your dress would be attracting good-for-nothing men all night.

See, Jungkook knows you like the necklace. Had just been reminding you of it, and the fact it’s his initial on there with the initial only he calls you. Well, him and his mother. Goes with the territory.

She’s seen you through your formative years. Only ever sees the good parts, because Jungkook orchestrates it that way.

She doesn’t see the moments like these, when he’s crushed your self esteem and tries to fix it in the most idiotic of ways.

The necklace pools around the base of your throat as your head tips back into the pillows, his thumb coming to toy with your clit, gently pressing down.

“Shush, Diz,” he smiles, so pleased to see your body responding in the way that it always does. “You’ll get us in trouble.”

God forbid the people you live with - who’ve all heard the arguments after his illicit encounters with randomers, and seen his face of thunder whenever you’re getting ready for first dates - ever figure out you’re fucking. Not like it’s obvious in the slightest. Not why Jem texted Jungkook, instead of checking on you herself.

Biting onto your wrist, you try and stifle the impact of his touch - ‘cause if they do hear, it will be your fault. You’ll be the reason everyone knows your dirty little secrets. You’ll be the one who ruins it all. Not him. Just you.

He doesn’t mean to condition you in such a way. Doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Nor do you - but your self esteem is shot to shit. You’re good enough to fuck, but not good enough to love, even if Jungkook insists that there’s no one he adores more. It always comes with an add-on of ‘you’re my best friend’, or ‘you wouldn’t wanna date me anyways’.

Maybe he’s right.

But maybe it would have been nice to try.

Shame.

The pace of Jungkook’s fingers pumping into you begins to slow. Leaking around the base of his knuckles, you’re just as wet as you always are with him. Even when the emotional labour of letting him have his way with you feels like a ten tonne weight on your chest, crushing down on your ribs and spoiling you forevermore, your body still wants him. Only him. Always him.

Withdrawing his fingers, Jungkook taps the outer side of your thigh. “On your front for me, Diz. Face down, ass up.”

With anyone else, Jungkook is far more often on the receiving end. It’s a shame, ‘cause his talents go to waste, it’s just what he’s found to be typical of random hook-ups.

He loves pussy. Loves eating it. Loves that you love it, too.

Slow as he spreads your ass with his hands, Jungkook really doesn’t fuck around with wasting time. He dives in without hesitation, burying his tongue between your folds. Cares not for accuracy, nor carefulness. Just wants his tongue all over you.

Your body lurches forward, hands clutching onto the duvet beneath you. He’s always been like this. Hungry. Just as desperate as you so often feel, but better at hiding it than you are.

His tongue laps against you. Sinks into your soaked hole as deep as he can get it. Uses one of his hands to reach around and toy with your clit while he continues to explore somewhere he knows like the back of his hand.

Pulling back a little, Jungkook’s breathing is heavy. You can hear it. Groan, as he grips your ass again. Spanks it softly, then get back to his previous position. Licks a stripe from your clit up to your leaking cunt, then continues. Flicks up against the tight muscle you rarely let him fuck around with.

But you want him to want you. Want him to have you in whichever capacity he so desires.

You reach back. Tangle a hand in his hair, and encourage him to massage your tight hole with his tongue, like you know he loves to do.

It’s kinda cute, in a way. He likes doing it, ‘cause he loves the way it feels whenever your tongue toys with his ass. Assumes other people must love it too. Just wants you to feel good. Wants to right his earlier wrongs.

He continues to trace up and down both your holes, stimulating your entire body in the process. Rubs your clit with his fingers, till you're writhing against the sheets, body pressed flat to the cotton as Jungkook begins to fuck his fingers into your again.

“You gonna cum for me?” He husks, a smile on his wet lips as he watches the tell-tale sign of an orgasm rush over you. Soon, you’ll be looking at him with dizzy eyes once more, and your namesake will make Jungkook feel things he pretends he can’t feel. “That’s it, Diz. All over my fingers. Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

There’s a relief that comes with your orgasm for Jungkook. Hope that you’ll stop being mardy with him. He doesn’t like it when you don’t like him. These days, he keeps making choices that make it hard for you to like him.

But you always like him - like him so much - in the comedown of a climax.

He doesn’t give you much time to recover. Wants to coax a second orgasm from you while he still can. Pulls you back into position - face down, ass up - and pushes down his sweats. Cock hard, there’s a small damp patch in his boxers from the precum he’s leaked for you. Lines himself up.

“Let me fuck you,” he begs before he pushes into you.

“Uh-uh,” you full forward a little, preventing him from doing what he so desperately wants to do. Turning to look over your shoulder, you shake your head. “Condom.”

He furrows his brows. Has the audacity to look fucking offended, as if he didn’t bring another girl back to the house you share.

You’re stupid, and you’re desperate, and you make all the wrong choices, but you aren’t naive. Not really. Your delusions and denial are always elevated away from reality, of which you like to think you have a firm grip on.

And so you simply say, “Don’t believe you didn’t fuck her.”

He doesn’t deny it. Shakes his head, not that you can see it. Just reaches to the shelf above your bed, and gets one from the pot you keep them tucked away in. Rarely ever use them. It’s a novelty, more than not, when you use them. Something to make him last a little longer.

It’s different today.

Today, it’s because you don’t know if his cock is fucking clean or not.

It should crush you, but it doesn’t.

Just a fact of life. Jungkook fucked someone else less than three hours ago. Came, probably. For someone else. Over someone else. Inside someone else.

But that desperation of yours is back once more. You want to be the reason why Jungkook loses his mind in temporary bliss. To be better. To be his last memory of the evening.

And so as Jungkook rolls the condom down his thick shaft, you position yourself perfectly for him. Whimper as the tip of his cock kisses your entrance. Whine, as he pushes inside you.

“That’s it,” he husks, gripping your ass cheeks to spread them nice and wide. Looking down to where your bodies meet, Jungkook is reminded of why he enjoys you so much. No one takes him so well. No one. He knows this. Doesn’t know why the fuck he ever feels the need to seek out anyone else. They’re never as good as this. “Fuck. That’s it, baby.”

Your hips roll back, ass bouncing in that hypnotic way he always swears will ruin him. His grip loosens to let you do the hard work, one of his hands stroking up your spine until it’s resting around the base of your throat.

Taking back a little control, he keeps your head pushed into the pillows. Grunts. “Take this cock so fuckin’ well, don’t you?”

The mumble you moan into the sheets isn’t enough for him. He always does this. Asserts control and then realises he actually kinda fuckin’ hates it. Fingers still wrapped around the base of your neck, Jungkook pulls you up.

Chest pressed to your back, Jungkook wastes no time locking you in place with an arm around the front of your waist. His cock continues to pump upwards into you, the movements a little subdued but by no means lacking.

The ridge of his thick head rubs up against your sweet spot. Gets you so fucking needy. Has your hand dipping to your clit to match the pressure.

And when you do? Oh, it’s heaven. You can’t help but whine - so Jungkook uses the hand that isn't on your waist to cover your mouth.

“You only get to cum if you’re quiet,” he tells you. “Be quiet for me, baby.”

But his hips are erratic. The sounds are lewd; skin on skin. It’s wet. Disgusting. Needy. Him, just as much as you. Sweat blossoms on his skin, keeping you both in this clammy haze of hedonism.

Catching his lips on your ear, Jungkook doesn’t care if he isn’t supposed to let kisses linger so close to your lips. Tongue wet, he intrudes. Licks the shell of your ear. Grazes his teeth on your lobe. Whispers, “You looked so pretty tonight,” then drags his tongue across your ear.

Cares not for precision nor accuracy, just the fact that this is an area of the body he doesn’t often explore, and that maybe he should do it more often, given how tightly your pussy is clamping around him.

There’s something about it - the obstruction of one of your senses likely to blame, sound distorted whenever his tongue licks against it - that makes you whine.

You can’t even really do that now. Are too muffled beneath his hand - until he pushes the two fingers that had been inside your pussy earlier into your mouth.

The taste is just the same as it always is whenever he does shit like this. Loves having you taste yourself. Experiencing what he experiences. Wants you to know exactly why he’s incapable of letting you go.

“Slutty little mouth,” he smirks against your ear. “Gonna finish in it.”

“Mhhm?” you mumble against the fingers you’re keeping wet and warm for him.

“Mhmm,” he replies. Presses a kiss to your temple, ‘cause he isn’t really thinking straight. Groans when your cunt clenches from the touch. “God, you want it, don’t you? Want it so bad. Wanna swallow my cum.”

Of course you do. You’ll take what he’ll give you.

Your mumble around his fingers isn’t enough. He wants to hear you say it. Frees your mouth of himself. Grips your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Turns you to face further over your shoulder.

He’s just gonna make you say it. Just make you say something lewd to get him a little closer. Just… Just gonna… Just...- Oh, fuck it. Your lips are just there, and they’re wet, and they’re pouty and - God, forgive me - perfect for him.

His eyes flitter between your eyes and your lips. Is aware you’re doing the same.

“Kook,” you whisper, as if you’re about to reprimand him.

“Please,” he begs. Thinks he needs this just as much as you do. Maybe even more so.

And so somewhere between the overwhelming acknowledgement that this is a catastrophic chain of events, and the promise of a happy ending (of which you know damn well will never reach fruition), you let him sink his lips into yours.

You’re pretty in war, and even prettier in defeat.

Jungkook thinks you’re prettiest when you’re all his.

You think that to be his is to accept an eternal loss.

The breath of his nose is heavy against your cheek as his lips press into yours, brows furrowed. The need for you to be lewd is abandoned, ‘cause Jungkook doesn’t even think he’ll last long enough for it. Thinks that nothing gets him closer than the flavour of your lips.

Hips still jerking up, the sound of his skin hitting your ass echoing around the room, Jungkook fucks himself into you until he can do it no longer. Pulls away. Rips off his condom. Tosses it to the floor. Gets you face down again. Wanks himself to the point of coming undone, hot spurts of cum dripping onto your ass and spilling down to the valley of your spine.

He’s the one moaning now, your body defiled by a boy who you wish would paint you in pretty compliments instead. Still, this is a compliment. Kind of. You’re hot enough to make him cum. That’s nice, you suppose.

“Shit,” he chokes out, breathing all out of sync, heartbeat far too rapid. A light spank is tapped against your ass, then softly stroked. He soothes. Aloe on sunburn. Milk with hot sauce. Pretty kisses in the comedown of a rough fuck.

You won’t get those. Wasn’t a particularly rough fuck, either - and yet it hurts so much when he gets up to leave.

It’s awkward. He doesn’t really say bye. Doesn’t acknowledge the fact he stoked a fire inside you that burned you from the inside out. Ignores the ashes that are scattered around your vessel, as if your soul has been ejected from its home.

He’s warm, when you look at him. That little part of your heart has been stolen once more. He’s just feeding it back to you.

“Sorry,” he says, a hand on your doorknob. “I shouldn’t- I mean, we shouldn’t-”

“It’s fine,” you offer.

That’s the thing about Jungkook. He’ll give you the world, then realise it was never his to give. Always has to ask for it back. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s fucked you, then acted as if was foolish - only to repeat the same mistakes the next evening.

It’s what he’s always done, and is what he’ll always do.

You’ll never learn.

The shirt you chuck on to head downstairs the next morning is his.

Far too big for you, it finishes around your thighs. Television blaring in the room beneath you, it’s obvious your housemates are awake, and even as you’re trudging down the stairs, you’re not quite sure you’re alive.

The headache of an overbearing hangover is threatening your life. You’re certain of it. The fact your housemates have the television set to what must be the maximum volume? Only further sending you to an early grave.

And yet when you see Jungkook sitting by the breakfast bar, hair in all different directions, a bowl of cereal in front of him, and smiling in the direction of whomever else is in the room, you find yourself smiling, too.

“Morning,” you say pleasantly as you walk into the kitchen, ready to flop your forehead down on Jungkook’s shoulder like you so often do.

Ready, until you notice the look in his eyes when he turns to face you.

Ready, until you glance in the direction of his previous smile.

Ready, until you see the girl who looks a lot like his ex-girlfriend and absolutely nothing like you leaning on the other side of the counter. Mug from your trip to Amsterdam together in her hands, and the shirt you got him for his birthday covering her body, she smiles.

You’re drowning.

“Oh,” you say, not looking at him. Only her. “I didn’t realise we had company.”

“Is she still here?”

“No.”

She’s awkward as she nods. “Sorry, hey. I crashed here last night - hope you don’t mind? It’s just you know what it’s like getting an uber at that time-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod. Smile. Jungkook thinks you look pretty - but of course he does. You look defeated. “Totally.”

“Did you fuck her?

“No, Diz. I didn't fuck her.”

“Jungkook said you were feeling unwell last night?” She tries to make conversation. She needn’t. You feel far more unwell now than you ever did last night - and that’s before you notice the pretty purple bruise forming on her neck. “How are you feeling now?”

Her care is kind. Considerate. Wholly wasted on you because you’re gonna lie, and say that you’re fine, even though it feels as if your lungs have been filled with venom spat by a lover who is incapable of loving.

Still, you don’t look at Jungkook. Just make your excuses. Leave.

And even though he knows that he should, Jungkook doesn’t chase after you.

He lets you go, because he knows you’ll always come back. You always do.

But if you don't?

Well, he’ll go back to you, and you’ll let him. Again, you always do.

From the kitchen, Jungkook can hear your showering starting up. Appetite lost, he isn’t listening to the girl in front of him. Isn’t even really sure of her name.

All that he’s sure of is that the fall out of this is not gonna be pretty.

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook masterlist #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook smut #bts fanfic #byholly #angst #smut #jungkook x y/n #fuckboy!jungkook #college!jungkook #college au

2K notes · View notes

alphabetboyluvr · 11 months

Text

throttle | jjk - series masterlist

pairing: boyracer!jk x fem reader - mutual disdain to lovers

synopsis

in which jeon jungkook hates speed limits, the local government, and the way that min yoongi looks at you.

current wc: 160,244

warnings: explicit language, drug usage, violence, dangerous driving, smut, and themes of an adult nature. not a mafia au, but teeters around the edges of it. organised crime and corruption are at the heart of the story. the characters have questionable morals and do dumb shit. be prepared to hate them as much as you love them. jungkook is a tittie luvr. no further questions.

specific smut warnings will be given at the start of each chapter - just know that jungkook loves tits, showers frequently and has a tongue piercing. oh and he's blonde he he <3 <3

cross posted to wattpad & ao3

minors dni | start date - late 2021

one - 17.8k

jungkook stops for gas. his receipt reads: petrol (38 litres), samgak gimbap (one), bottle of soju (one), curiosity of the cashier (piqued). - dangerous driving, depictions of violence, foul language, alcohol

two - 13.4 k

you consummate a hypothetical marriage - but hey, on the plus side, at least you can't testify against a spouse, right? - dangerous driving, smut, tipsy hookup

three - 7.5k

in the words of jimin, jungkook is 'all cock and balls, no brain', but luckily that's just how you like your men - smut, car sex

four - 9.1k

jungkook is a pied piper. whether you like it or not, you know you'll let him drag you to the river, just for him to watch you drown. - smut, the angst is upon us

five - 18.5k

you're 'just a friend from daegu' and jungkook is just a big fat filthy liar. - smut, angst intensifies

six - 20k

with lovers like jungkook, there's really no need for enemies - smut, angst

seven - 13.5k

jungkook sniffs powder how he used to sniff your hair; incessantly, obsessively. - depictions of violence, drug usage, angst

eight - 16.5k

yoongi chokes; on your hand around his throat, on his unspoken feelings, and on the courage it takes to tell you he's seeing someone else. - smut, infidelity

nine - 11.4k

you hate jungkook in the same way that teenagers hate their hometowns: no matter how much you want to run from it, you know it will always be the place you go back to.

ten

eleven

1K notes · View notes

alphabetboyluvr · 27 days

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HUSH | MYG - TWO

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?)

premise: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops !!

wc: 10k

for more details, pls see the master list (x)

note from holly: if you've read hush over on wattpad, then you've already seen this! sorry!! but this is everything that was on wattpad--the next upload will be 100% fresh hehe

warnings: alcohol, foul language, creepy men in bars, sexting (minimal!! very brief!), yoongi is both an asshole and a good guy, oc and yoongi are dumb!! and argumentative!! we learn a teeny tiny bit more lore for the night that never was!!

the app (x) | the band (x) | part one (x)

minors dni!!!

GOLDEN CLOSET STUDIO Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"Back again so soon?" Jungkook grins when you traipse into his studio the next morning.

Slumping down onto the sofa with a groan, you get comfortable like it's a second home to you. Only just gone midday, you're exhausted. You'll tell anyone who asks that you went out for a morning run, but you'll be lying through your teeth.

See, what made you tired may have given flushed cheeks, but sadly no cardio was involved. Just some pixels. Words. Another goddamn video call of a bedroom you know so damn well but have never stepped foot within. From his belly button down, you'd recognise your Damocles boys in a heartbeat. Wonder if you'd be able to tell if you saw him in the wild, fully clothed.

You doubt it.

No, what's made you so tired isn't the things that get you up in the morning, but rather the things that keep you up all night.

Or just 'thing'.

A singular.

You're not sure you want to classify him as a person, because currently he's just pixels on a screen - but the images those pixels so often make? The dirty words that form in negative spaces just for you to see?

Yeah. You think that he's too good to be true. Can't be a real man.

"Meeting," you mumble into the cushion of the chair. "You know how many logistics are involved in taking you guys on tour? It's mad."

"Logistics?" He snorts, knowing your job has nothing to do with that side of the business.

"I'm shadowing," you reply. "Jinyu sweet-talked someone she knows in that department. Following one of the planners around for the week."

"Really tryna work your way up, huh?" Jungkook asks, before quietly musing, "Hope Jinyu'll sweet-talk me some time."

He's not wrong. About working your way up, that is. Jinyu will never sweet-talk him.

Big Hit is a great stepping stone - an industry outlier, built from the ground up - but you don't want to be in your brother's shadow for too long.

You fear it'll look like you're complacent; as if you want an easy life that you don't have to work hard for. Get some experience, get a good reference, and get out; that's the plan. Maybe work somewhere overseas, away from the confines of your family name.

You don't entertain Jungkook's musings, instead opting to shuffle a little further into his sofa. It's leather and still smells brand new - not because it is, but because Jungkook is meticulous in his cleaning regimes. Will probably wipe it down after you leave. Is perhaps the neatest rockstar you've ever known - not that you know all that many.

And that's exactly your issue; even if you want to get out of Seokjin's shadow, you've no idea where to turn to. Bright light saturates everything else. Here, you're hidden. Safe. Comfortable.

Well, comfortable except for one particular thorn in your side.

"Get your song sorted with Yoongi last night?" You ask, genuinely curious about it. You're also incredibly nosey, and Yoongi is a dick. What you'd like to hear is that he's annoyed and frustrated, because that's how he makes you feel.

It's selfish to think that way. The album cycle is well and truly underway, and the boys are cramming every spare moment into perfecting it. You aren't too aware of the process, you just know that Yoongi speaks to you even less now that the stress is mounting.

They're made for the stage. Would spend all day every day performing, if it was sustainable. Don't enjoy the downtime - but you think it's because the slowness of it all interferes with their live fast, die young bullshit.

Jungkook shakes his head. "It's missing something. Can't figure out what. We're gonna leave it until after the Europe dates. Hopefully will have found some inspiration over there."

You accept his answer without a response. Know that any advice you could give would be redundant. You don't know the first thing about music production, and think it would be a waste of energy to float ideas for a song you've not even heard.

"Think Yoongi needs to rest," Jungkook muses a little mindlessly. "Was here till stupid o'clock last night."

You mumble a response, and Jungkook takes it as an indication to continue.

"Last email he sent was at like, what? Three in the morning? How his brain could've still been working, I've no idea."

"He's a night owl," you hum, as if it's a new discovery. "Works better that way. It's like you work best after a good sleep. He works best a little sleep-deprived."

"Yeah but how?!"

"I dunno. Brain science. Ask Yoongi. He probably knows. Psychology n shit."

Jungkook just rolls his eyes. He won't be asking Yoongi.

Just like he also won't be asking Yoongi if he wants to join you all for drinks later that evening.

That job? Yeah, that's up to you.

Neither you, Jimin, nor Jungkook wanna ask Yoongi, mainly because you all know he'll just say 'no.' What's the point?

A fierce battle of rock-paper-scissors had been fought earlier that evening, and you'd been the poor sod declared as the loser.

Already half a bottle down, they're drinking in Jungkook's studio (even if Hoseok strictly forbode it the last time they got legless at work (as if his orders have ever stopped them from doing anything they wanted)) when you finally meet them again.

They're getting a headstart on the evening's festivities.

It's nothing special. Just a chance for them all to hang out properly after the Seoul shows.

They rarely ever 'hang out', 'cause work often feels like that anyway. It's only when they take a break that they realise how much they enjoy each other's company. A few days rest from one another is always welcome - but exceed three days, and they start to get withdrawal symptoms.

"Ready to go?" You ask, but are met with curt shakes of their heads.

Jimin passes you the bottle of beer he's been nursing on. As you take a swig, he reminds you, "You've not asked Yoongi yet."

Lips pressed to the rim of the bottle, you roll your eyes. Have half a mind to backwash in retaliation, but you don't fancy bickering this early on in the night.

Shaking your head, you swallow down the froth. "He'll say no."

"Buuuuut," Jungkook sings, as if he thinks he can serenade you into asking Yoongi. "What if he says yes?"

"Well, one of you can ask!" You whine. Yoongi's studio is the last place you want to go to - especially after the messages he sent you last night, warning you about your relationship with Jungkook. "Give him your doe eyes, Kook. It'll work."

A game of rock, paper, scissors is legally binding, though. Jungkook tells you so. Says if you don't go and ask Yoongi, he'll be forced to take you to court.

"I've got Big Hit lawyers," he reminds you.

"Is this a threat?!"

"Yep. Now go ask Yoongi!"

You argue a little longer. Jimin takes two shots during that time. Jungkook interpretive dances whenever you make a compelling statement as to why you shouldn't be the one asking. You frown whenever he does the robot.

And so, mainly to get away from any more of Jungkook's bizarre hip-gyrations, you traipse down to the end of the corridor, where Yoongi's so-called Genius Lab resides.

The wait at his door is awkward. You question yourself, what you'll say, how you should stand. First impressions are everything, and if he's greeted with shitty energy, he'll give it back in return. You know him well enough to know this for a fact.

After a lifetime of waiting (27 seconds, to be exact), there's a mechanical whir of the lock coming undone.

"Hey," you offer a smile as you're greeted with his typical face of thunder. "Been sent to retrieve you. We're going out tonight. All of us."

He knows the plans. Is in the group chat. Ignored the messages for a reason.

His stare is a little frosty but not unkind. Just uninterested. "Can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both?"

You might be deluding yourself, but you think he smiles slightly when he says that.

"Ah, but you can and you will go to the ball, Cinders," you joke, giving him a small curtsy. "All work no play makes Yoongi a dull boy."

You're joking, but you believe it. He's been miserable the last few months. Keeps himself hauled up in his studio when they're not on the road, and avoids social interaction like the plague. It maddens you. How is he gonna write songs about life and the importance of living one, if he won't let himself do the same?

He's hard to read as he sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Shakes his head, then opens his door a little wider. Encourages you into his space.

A candle burns on his desk, faintly vanilla in its scent, making it feel far cosier than actually is. The room is sullen; dark greys and little else. In fact, it surprises you he's gone for such a pretty cream candle. LED lights that are hidden in the walls glow a deep blue, and it's no wonder he's so miserable. There's no passion in his little pit. No life. Just him, some screens, and the whir of computer fans.

"Will you give something a listen?" He asks, quite clearly seeing you as a last resort - but when you hit rock bottom, the only direction you can go in is up. He knows you're not musical, not like Jin, but perhaps he needs the ear of a consumer, not a creator. "Been wracking my brain trying to think of what this needs. Have listened to it so many times that nothing sounds right anymore. I just- Could you?" He pauses. Looks quite uncomfortable when he adds, "Please?"

You assume the file up on the central screen is the song he's been working on with Jungkook, so you oblige. Kick your shoes off and leave them by the mat. It's been a while since you've been given the luxury of access to the Genius Lab. You used to know the code.

Things with Yoongi used to be different, though.

Not much has changed within his four dark walls since then. He's gained a new painted canvas in the corner of the room, stacked behind the existing ones. It's deep navy blue. Sort of like him, you think. The blue continues. Illuminates his work area. No wonder he never sleeps. The mood lighting is cold. Alert. Is bound to fuck with his brain.

There are more speakers than you can fathom, and switchboards you can't even begin to understand. The programs that Yoongi's running on his computers are familiar, though. You've seen them enough times to get a rough idea of the composition. Can see tabs labelled for Jin's vocals.

Yoongi turns his chair as the door clicks shut, automatic lock whirring into place. There was a time when that sound would have excited you. Not for any lewd, scandalous reason - just for the fact there used to be a time, many moons ago, when you thought Min Yoongi was the hottest man to have ever graced the earth.

And can you blame yourself?

His midnight hair gracefully frames his face, perfectly waved, dark eyes stark against his pale complexion. His skin is dewy, cheeks a little puffy from his lack of sleep and the fact all he has in his system is an iced americano and blue Powerade - yet still, his features are sharp. A white shirt hangs off his broad shoulders, dainty bracelets sitting on his pretty wrists.

Every bit the heartthrob, he's only gotten better with age - but you've grown up, too. Are wiser now. Understand that devastatingly handsome men will always inevitably devastate you, too.

It's for that reason Min Yoongi doesn't bother you in the same ways that he used to. That, and the night that never was.

As you said, devastatingly handsome men will only ever devastate you, too. He's proven that point already.

He points to his chair. "Sit."

The way he's so demanding with his tone annoys you. You shake your head. Choose to stand. "It's cool. Just play the song."

You don't mean to be so sharp. So curt. You're just thinking about how unbearable he's been recently - especially last night. He'd left you on read. Obviously wasn't happy with your response, not that you care.

"Please don't be difficult," he says softly. "Just sit so you can listen properly."

Why your stature could possibly impact your ears and their ability to listen, you'll never know - but you don't argue. As much as Yoongi's contempt for you these days annoys you, you don't want to make it any worse than it already is.

The leather of his chair is warm from his perch. Kind of nice how despite his cool demeanour, he's always a little toasty. He brings the heat of Daegu with him wherever he goes.

"I'm all ears," you tell him, and watch as he presses down on the play button.

"It's not the full song," he says over the melody of an upbeat track. "You'll know the bit I mean though. It's like, not bad, but-"

"Yoongi, shush," you smile, making sure you catch his eye as you do so. Don't want him to think you're snapping. You just wanna hear the sections he's uncertain about in context with the rest of the song.

Quiet as the track begins to echo out, there's an uncharacteristically quaint piano faintly guiding the track. You know he plays, but it's rare for it to be a focal part of the songs he creates.

You understand immediately which section Yoongi's having trouble with - not because it sounds bad, just because the drop before the final chorus doesn't hit quite right. It builds and builds but the arrival at the final chorus is underwhelming.

"Rewind it a bit," you say, wanting to hear it again. Confirm that it's the right part.

Yoongi does as you ask, leaning over you slightly, and says, "Somethings off, right?"

Nodding, you listen for a third time. "Take away the guitar," you say.

He does. It's better, but still not right.

"Maybe you've overcomplicated it?" you muse, thinking that he needs to strip it back entirely, but not wanting to offend him.

"Hmm," he hums. "You think?"

He mutes a few more layers on the track. Plays it again. It's getting there.

"Better, right?" you ask.

He nods as he stands up straight, listening to it over again. Frowns. "Still not quite there."

"I think it might benefit from some distance," you suggest. "Come out with us tonight. Get your mind off this track. Might even get some inspiration."

Shaking his head, he watches as you stand and head towards the door. He's not been out with you since the night that never was. Doesn't enjoy the prospect of risking it all after a couple of drinks inevitably turns into a couple of bottles again - of which he knows it will. If you and Jimin are together, it will be messy. Just how it goes. Throw Jungkook and Tae into the mix? Disaster waiting to happen.

"Look," you sigh. "I know it's not really your thing - but the rest of the boys are game. They all want you there. Just think about it, okay?"

He purses his lips together. Smiles, and turns to face his computer screen once more. "Thanks for your help."

And just like that, you're dismissed. Considering the way he'd messaged you about Jungkook the day before, it went pretty well, you think. Try not to dwell on the fact he couldn't be less interested even if he tried.

It's funny, 'cause as Yoongi stews in his chair, rocking ever so gently, he sighs. Shakes his head. Grumbles to himself quietly: "'they all want you there'... but do you want me there?"

The boys aren't so disappointed when you return with no Yoongi behind you. They all knew what his answer would be, and only sent you so they didn't have to deal with his rejection.

"Took your time," Jimin notes.

You shrug. Deadpan. "Yeah, sorry, got distracted. Too busy shagging him."

"Really?!"

"No, of course not," you laugh, as if it's the funniest suggestion in the world. You sort of think it is. "Nah, he just wouldn't be convinced."

And so it comes as a surprise to everyone when Yoongi shows up at Jimin's place a couple of hours later with a bottle of whisky in hand.

"Shut the fuck up," is all he says as he walks into an absolute commotion, practically everyone in the room elated by his decision to join in. He hides his smile poorly, occasionally letting his teeth show despite his protests.

From the sofa, you catch his eye. Nod. He bunches up his face a little. Nods back - but is quickly distracted by Jimin holding up a clear shot glass filled with fuck knows what. You, too, find yourself distracted by chatter with the rest of the boys and a couple of the girls from the artist liaison team.

In the corner of the room, your phone is plugged into a charger. It's been there since you arrived. You've no need to check it - but you can never leave it too long.

You smile, butterflies kissing your tummy and making their way through your body when you eventually check it.

D4m0cl3s: got a work thing tonight, so probably won't be able to message much gonna be thinkin' about u tho don't miss me too much, clemmie x

The smile is hard to hide. You blame it on the alcohol.

Kind of like how Yoongi smiles half an hour later when he checks his own phone.

Cl3m3ntin3: been a busy bee today, sorry :( all work, no play? :( it'll make you dull, damocles boy x

But then he watches you as you laugh with Jungkook about something trivial. Reads over his messages again. Shakes his head.

Remembers you trying to convince him to join for the evening. How you'd called him Cinders. Told him that all work and no play made him dull.

His heart thuds in his chest. He swallows harshly. Pours a whisky. Swallows that, too.

Breathes a sigh of relief as he taps through a message - 'it's a play thing for work. promise i'll behave x' - and watches your phone after it's marked as 'delivered' in his chat feed.

Your phone is screen-up on the kitchen counter, just within his line of vision. It doesn't light up. Doesn't vibrate. Receives no message.

"Thank fuck," he mumbles, the sinking feeling in his chest lifting as he grabs a fresh whisky.

He quickly walks away from the scene of a crime that never was. Sort of like the night that never was. Is so pleased, in fact, that he's happy to sit beside you on the sofa as Jungkook sets up a drinking game with Jin.

Silly, really, how a few drinks seem to make him forget the concept of 'do not disturb' mode.

"Hey," you smile and he comes to sit down. "Glad you made it."

"Me too," he nods, lips thin, chin dimpling as a shy smile graces his face. He's a little whisky tipsy. Doesn't feel the need to keep such a strict distance from you, now.

"To a good night," you raise your glass to him, and he reciprocates. Clinks them together.

"To a good night."

STAIRWAY BAR Itaewon-ro, Yongsan-Gu

♪ // You First (Re: Remi Wolf)- Paramore

"You're never gonna be this young and this hot again," Jimin slurs after a few too many lemon drops. It's his third time making this point, because it's the third time you've shooed away a guy trying to make a move on you.

They've all been perfectly fine. Nice enough guys, you're sure, but you aren't interested in random hookups. The night really isn't about that. All you want to do is let your hair down with the boys you've known for most of your life.

As Jimin whines about the fact no one is ready to move onto a club yet, bored of the bar, part of you considers the novel idea that one of the men in your rejection pile could have been your Damocles boy. A funny thing to think about, really. He did say he was busy tonight. Said it was for work, but everyone knows how rowdy work dinners can get after the boss leaves.

He could be here. Could have his tail between his legs. Could be looking at you right now, without a clue.

The reality of that wouldn't please you, for it would mean he's out there searching for other women.

While he'd be well within his right to, you selfishly find that that you don't want him to. In fact, all you wanna do is send him a message. Let him know you're thinking of him. That you wish you were at home right now, alone in your sheets with nothing but an internet connection and that damn app to keep you company.

You're with friends, though. Can't open the app without fear of endless ridicule - and not to mention the fact your brother is with you. Not worth it.

As you come to join them, a fresh drink in your hand, you're easily distracted. Are brought back to reality by your favourite people. Neon lights on the ceiling, and relics of time spent in the bar pinned to the walls. Photobooth pictures, foreign currency. Life is embedded into the seams of this place, and it's reassuring, in a way. Makes your dependency on your Damocles boy a lot less intense. You can forget him. Live life. Neglect to check your phone.

"Objection!" Jungkook chimes, following you and Jimin to the corner booth of the bar where the rest of your friends sit. "Older women are, like, so hot. So damn hot. Damn." And then he's thinking to himself. Brows furrowed, pouty lips whistling out a hearty sigh as he shakes his head. Thinks about Jinyu. A couple of the older women at the record company. About Jimin's mother. Laughs. Nods. "Yeah, older women are where it's at."

Both of you look at him with an air of confusion, and yet neither of you question it.

"What did I miss?" Jin beams when he rejoins you, as a member of the bar staff follows him with a bottle of Ciroc resting in an ice bucket. Another staff member will soon bring you cans of drink to use as mixers, but you know damn well these boys will be shotting it down straight.

The bottle won't be on the house, but you know Jin will have charged it back to the company. Will get a bollocking from Hoseok the next time he's in the office. Doesn't care, cause he knows the band makes the record company more money than anyone else on the roster at the moment. The way he sees it, it's their money anyway.

"Jungkook's just declared his love for older ladies," Taehyung deadpans from the sofa opposite yours. "Nothing new."

"Better older than younger," Jin asserts, playfully pushing against your forehead as he walks past you and back to his seat.

As much as you're your own person, you're still his little sister, and the rest of his unruly group of friends will do well to remember that.

Jungkook snorts. Throws a smirk in your direction. "I can make exceptions."

"And I can get away with murder, Kook," Jin assures him - and he's probably right. As much as they like to play into the rock and roll lifestyle, they've got power. Fame. Something that hides them just as much as it projects them. "Don't even think about it."

There's laughter and chatter amongst everyone at such a declaration, but you can't help but wonder if a certain pair of eyes glanced your way upon hearing that.

It's not like Yoongi doesn't know Jin harbours such feelings. Told you the exact same thing, once: that Jin'd murder Jungkook if anything ever happened between the pair of you.

But you also remember what came next.

Even if it's never been spoken about since, you know that remembers, too. The way he refused to reply to your last text is testament to it.

See, he's been avoiding you since long before you got your little job with the company. Would turn down plans if you were in attendance. Declined invites to dinner, and bailed on drinks. Once you started working in such close proximity, it was harder to keep his distance, and so he built up walls.

They're steep, and they're topped with barbed wire. Impenetrable, or so it would seem.

Climbing has never been a strong point of yours, and scaling walls doesn't feel like a pastime you'd enjoy very much, so Yoongi's safe distance from you is kept. He's feline, in that way; how he'll stalk up trees and sit in amongst the branches, peering down at you. Out of reach, holding all the cards.

Flicking your eyes across to him, you find him embroiled in conversation with Namjoon. He's laughing, which admittedly does make you smile. It's been so long since you've been afforded the luxury of witnessing such a thing.

But you're torn from your thoughts by a sudden, sharp tug on your wrist, and don't even realise Jimin is dragging you out of your seat until you're already stumbling behind him. With a shrill yelp and soft giggle, you let him pull you to the stairs that lead up from the basement bar to the earthly realm above.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, as if you have any choice in the matter. He's got a death grip on you. You're coming along whether you like it or not. "The rest of them are being boring. I wanna dance."

"Maybe I was enjoying being boring!" You argue just for the sake of it, tapping at your pockets to make sure you've still got your phone with you. Not for any particular reason. Just to be safe. Totally not because you fear losing your only contact with your virtual lover. Nothing like that at all.

"Tough," Jimin asserts, not caring where you both end up just as long as there is a dancefloor and a dark corner.

It isn't for any sinister reason, but just because he isn't looking to be the life and soul of the party. His face isn't recognised in the same way that the other boys are, but it doesn't matter. He attracts attention regardless. Goes with the territory of having a face like his. Irresistible to men and women alike. You're yet to meet anyone who doesn't think he's the most beautiful man alive - though Jin certainly does take issue with such a title being awarded to anyone else but him.

But just like Jin, there's a magnetism about Jimin. Moths to a flame, the rest of the boys follow suit and head up towards the street. The entire area code is a cluster of bars and hole-in-the-wall food joints. It's made for this time of the night, when the clouds are shielding the eyes of the moon from all sorts of sin, just a few stray stars guiding the way.

Light pollution bleeds upwards and out. Even if you know the stars are there, you can't see them - and it's not like you get the chance to check either way, for Jimin's already pulling you down the stairs to another basement bar.

This one is larger - two stories. Quieter on the first floor, it's the second level where he wants to be.

A planner in both professional and personal life, even though he seems erratic and all out of order, Jimin has everything under control. Knows the managers of most (if not all) of the bars on this street. Called a favour in this afternoon for one of the downstairs booths, just adjacent to the dancefloor, to be roped off & reserved. Knew that some of the boys would, in his mind, be 'boring', but still wanted everyone together. It's the best of both worlds. He can dance, and they can talk, or whatever they wanna do.

♪ // Desert Eagle - Silica Gel

Min Yoongi doesn't dance. He drinks. He observes. He watches the debauchery unfold from a safe distance, much like he does with you. Sometimes - not always - he thinks. Ponders. Wonders if maybe he's wasting his time by not indulging in the same way other people do. If he's missing out. Considers perhaps his friends are right to revel in such mindless frivolities.

He doesn't debate his choices often, but as he gets comfortable in this new place, he can't help it. Thinks word must have gotten out about their planned attendance, 'cause he notices far more eyes on them than normal. Far more women vying for their attention. Men, too. Whether it be sex or status, their intrigue is always fuelled by something.

The rest of the boys revel in it.

Yoongi doesn't care for it - but there's a reputation to uphold. A brand image that being spotted in clubs and getting up to no good only helps. Seals them as the real deal. Gets them out of the bracket of 'posers' or manufactured, not that it really fuckin' matters.

There are two girls to each of them. Supply and demand. There aren't enough of The Scouts to go around, but people will share. Will take all they can get. Sharp eyeliner, pretty hair, the girls all have their wits about them, and it's potentially the worst part of it all - they're making the conscious, informed choice to lower themselves to a standard well beneath their worth.

The club stinks of sticky liquor and smoke, but beneath the veil they're all wearing the same perfume. Whatever's currently being marketed as 'irresistible' to men. Was vanilla a few years ago. Yoongi is certain it's something muskier now, but isn't sure what. Makes no difference to him.

There's only one perfume he knows he really likes, and has trained himself to despise it by association.

It's a shame that he hasn't trained himself to stop looking in your direction whenever he thinks of you. Is part of the reason he doesn't like drinking around you. Makes such stupid mistakes. His malevolent mask fails to hide him. The facade slips.

Tongue resting in the corner of his mouth, he doesn't realise he's staring. Eyes dark as they watch you with Jimin, Yoongi wonders if you've always had that tattoo just above your elbow. It's small, and dainty. Hard to make out from where he is, but when your arms are in the air, he's fixated on it. Thinks it must be new.

But then your arms drop to rest on Jimin's shoulders, and he's reminded of what you look like when you're all hot and bothered. Reminded of that night. The one that never was. Haunted by the rivulet of sweat that had trickled down your skin in a sauna that neither of you had any business being inside; just you and him in a silent descent into sin, and the smirk on your lips as his eyes had followed the droplet down your body.

His attention is yanked from you when an ice cube lands in his lap. Glacing across to the direction it came from as he pushes it to the floor, Yoongi scowls at Jungkook. "The fuck was that for?"

"Remember the rules," Jungkook smirks. "Look, but don't touch."

"Wasn't fuckin' looking," Yoongi sneers, completely ignorant of the women vying for his attention. "Was just thinking Jimin needs to to sober up. Man's a state. And unlike you, I wouldn't touch her if humanity depended on it."

"I'm a man of the people," Jungkook teases. "If repopulating the earth was my duty, I'd do it. Can't believe you wouldn't."

"She's got where she is today through sheer nepotism and audacity alone," Yoongi counters. "Doesn't have the kinda genes you'd wanna repopulate the earth with."

"Foul," Taehyung laughs. He's the only one of the boys without women hanging off him. Is stern and authoritative in his rejection of their advances; not yet married but wears a ring around his finger to let them know he's deadly serious. Landed himself in hot water a few months back after photos of him talking to a girl outside a bar - no matter how innocently - circulated online. A bad angle and misrepresentation of events had almost decimated the one thing he cares about more than the band: his relationship. Refuses to ever let it happen again. "Absolutely foul, Yoongi. You know you don't mean that."

"He just needs to get laid," Jungkook chimes in. "Has been celibate for so long he's forgotten how good sex is. Used to be a time he'd fuck anything willing with a pulse-"

It's not untrue. He was reckless in his youth - but aren't we all?

"Yeah, and then I grew up, Kook," Yoongi says with little to no emotion, getting to his feet. Taps his pocket to check for his phone, and then taps the other for his wallet. All there. "Should try it."

When Yoongi looks back up to the crowd, you're gone. He rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Is almost mentally berating you, as if you've done something wrong - but you haven't, and he damn well knows it.

Perhaps that's the most frustrating part of it all: everything falls back on him. The awkwardness. The cold shoulders. The night that never was. If he would have just made more sensible choices back then, things could be easier now.

It's not that things are hard, as such - just that they aren't how they used to be. Rose-tinted glasses, and all that.

Over by the bar, there's a haze around you: clouded judgement, misted intentions.

The smallest things put a smile on your face, thanks to the alcohol in your veins. Could be the song that's already been played three times coming on yet again. Could be witnessing some random guy get pied by every single girl he approaches. Could be the way your vodka orange takes like juice. Anything and everything feels light. Airy. Breezy.

"What's so funny?" Some guy asks, leaning in a little closer to you - and just like that, your mood is soured. You're not here to make friends, but rather spend time with your pre-existing ones, and judging by the look on his face, he's hoping for a little more than friendship.

"Oh, nothing," you smile politely, crossing your arms over your chest as you angle your body away from his. Hope that he'll get the message.

He does. Just doesn't like it very much.

"No need to be a bitch," he sneers under his breath just loud enough for you to hear.

Normally, you'd leave it. Let him have his little tantrum. Be a big baby.

But you were in such a good mood, and you're annoyed that he's ruined it.

Wanna ruin his, too.

Snapping back to face him, you're about to launch into a tirade, but you come face-to-face with a chest that looks far too good in a simple T-shirt and find yourself faltering, instead.

Yoongi looks down at you, eyes dark, scowl ever-present. Says nothing. Just nods. You think he's asking if you're okay - so you nod back. Won't get into a debate over the fact you were perfectly fine, and have no issue asserting your boundaries with strangers.

Shoulders broad, the guy who had been bothering you is entirely eclipsed by Yoongi.

Glancing across to the bar staff, Yoongi nods. "Hibiki." Glances down at you. Checks the colour of your glass. It's obscured by the bar lights, but he knows it isn't dark enough to be coke, and remembers your order from before things got complicated. Figures some things haven't changed. Looks back towards the server. "Vodka Orange." Passes over his card. Says nothing to you. Just keeps his eyes on yours.

There's a subtle blush dusting his cheeks. The heat, you think. It's unnoticeable for the most part, but sometimes the lights hit him just right, and you're reminded of how warm he can be. How inviting.

He's always been impressive. Taller in sheer presence than he is in stature. Even back in high school, his nature was domineering. Respected. Lips gently parted, you're unable to move. Suddenly, nothing is funny anymore. It's heavy. Thick. Suffocating. You're deaf to the bass of the music that thumps through your body. Ignorant of the people moving around you.

But then Yoongi's being offered his card back, and Jimin bounds on into you like a lost puppy finally finding its owner.

"For me?!" Jimin exclaims as the drinks are slid across the bar, passing the vodka orange to you and picking up Yoongi's whisky for himself.

Shaking yourself from the shackles of Yoongi's stare, you look down. Realign your mind. Glance back over and nod a silent thank you - but then you turn and leave the drink by the bar. Head for the bathrooms. Refuse to look back, so utterly perplexed by what on earth just happened.

In a frank, factual recount of the events, Yoongi just stood beside you and ordered a drink.

In your hysterical, deluded mind, Yoongi just stood beside you and opened the skies; let a flood of water torrent down. Drowned everyone in the process save for you - except you're the one gasping now as you stare yourself out in the bathroom mirror.

Phone still on don't disturb, you pull it from your pocket and check just in case he's thinking of you.

Not Yoongi, no. You push him out of your mind. Think of your Damocles boy. He's the one you wished had joined you at the bar. The one you've been yearning for all night.

And sure enough, he has been thinking of you, too.

D4m0cl3s: there are some weirdos out and about tonight, clem keep yourself safe for me, okay?

It's strange, how guilt needlessly creeps in so silently that you don't even realise it's there until an invisible hand is over your mouth. You're suffocating again, or so it would seem. Drowning, maybe. Perhaps Yoongi wasn't saving you at all; he was dragging you down instead.

You wish you were at home. Wish you weren't so drunk. Wish you could think straight. Wish your balance was a little better - but it's not, and as you try and think of a response that goes beyond 'i miss you' or a 'you should be here', you stumble a little. Lose your footing. Grab onto the sink to stop yourself from falling over entirely, only to send your phone crashing to the floor.

"Fuck," you curse, scrambling down to get it, only to be greeted with a fracture splintering right over the top of your front camera. Pulling up the app, it's very quickly clear that the camera absolutely ruined - but for the most part, your screen is okay. "Fuck."

You think it's a sign: go home.

Even if you're drunk, and you're in the business to make some bad decisions, you know that your Damocles boy is right. There are some weirdos about tonight, and as fucked up as it all seems, 'safe' feels a lot like a message thread with a man you've never met.

Instead of replying to him, you open up your thread with Jimin. Let him know you're going home. Make your way up the stairs and out of the bar without looking back. It's rare for you to cry when you drink, but it kind of feels like you will now, and for no good reason. Just had a little too much, that's all.

The light around fades from the invasive red of the club into the murky blue hues of the streets.

And yet, there's a lovely little red flag waiting by the top of the stairs, unaware of your decision to head home, too.

"You leaving already?" You chirp in surprise upon realising who it is.

The sound of your voice, and the fact it's addressing him, seems to take Yoongi by surprise when he turns to face you.

"I, uh," he pauses. Looks down. Seems to be a little flustered. You wonder what's going inside that head of his, but when his eyes meet yours again, you decide you're better off not knowing. "Can't be home too late. I'm sorta seeing someone. Gotta get back for them."

"Oh," you say quietly.

I'm seeing someone.

"Yeah."

It's not like it matters, it's just that you never expected to hear him say those words. He's married to his music. Always has been. Spends his nights in the studio, not sleeping next to someone else.

Or perhaps he doesn't anymore. Just goes to show how little you know of his life these days.

"That's nice," you chirp, swallowing down your surprise. "Yeah. That's really nice, actually. I'm pleased for you."

In a way, it makes sense. Perhaps his strangeness lately has been less to do with you and more to do with himself and the fact he genuinely doesn't care about the past anymore. Thoughts of the night that never was are genuinely reserved for your brain, and your brain alone. Have no place in his. His warning about Jungkook was due to lessons learned by him.

"And you?" He asks, noticing the slight discomfort in your tone. He wouldn't normally entertain such frivolous conversations with you, but he's only human. Alcohol still gets him a little loose-lipped, too. "What's new in your love life?"

You laugh, now. Good fuckin' question. Genuinely don't know how to describe your Damocles boy, or if you even want to.

"Nothing new."

"No?"

"No," you smile in such a way that Yoongi knows you're not telling the whole truth - but who is he to pry?

"Well," he says, then coughs to clear his throat. Look out to the street ahead of you both. It's full of drunk revellers, and you're certain at least half of them will have The Scouts in their playlists. Yoongi's position in the band means he's never front and centre, so no one notices him like this. If they do, they're being incredibly discreet about it. "I'm sure you'll meet someone soon."

"Maybe," you shrug, knocking your shoulder against his arm. "Be easier if you didn't stand in front of every guy who shows an interest in me."

"It was one guy," he laughs, knowing not to take you too seriously. "And you know he was a creep. Was just standing in for your brother."

"Yeah," you nod, not caring to counter him, or to remind him how fucked up it is to refer to himself like that. Folding your arms over your chest, you're regretting the lack of a coat. Had left it back at pre-drinks, because a little bit of liquor and you suddenly think you're a child of the sun. "You're right. Thanks for that."

"No worries," Yoongi shrugs. Is about to offer you his jacket, when a taxi rolls up. "This yours?"

"Yeah," you nod, recognising the number plate from the taxi you'd ordered via an app when you'd been in the bathroom. "Want a lift?"

He shakes his head. "Gotta head to the studio first."

"Yoongi, you're drunk," you laugh. "What did I tell you about all work?"

"Yeah, yeah, dull boy," he laughs too - but it's not you he's thinking of as he recites it. It's the girl he's heading home for that enters his mind, and how she'd said something similar. Shaking his head, he's confused at how easily thoughts of her intertwine with how easy it can be to joke with you. Puts it down to the alcohol. His head's a mess. "Inspiration doesn't wait. Let Jimin or someone know when you're home."

"Get in the cab," you insist at his need to be difficult. "I'll route it past the studio. Inspiration doesn't wait," you imitate a little childishly, which does get him smiling. "Better to get to it quickly, no?"

He looks around. Looks a little uncomfortable. You don't take it personally. He looks like this a lot of the time around you. Even before it all got weird.

Eventually, he sighs. Relents.

"Route it to yours," he says. "I'll carry on to the studio."

"Studio is closer," you tell him, knocking your head to the side, pulling open the door. "C'mon. The driver will leave if you don't hurry up."

"And Jin'll kill me if you get stolen," he reminds you, as if that would be likely to happen. Even if the taxi driver was a creep, there are cameras everywhere in places like this. You're as safe as can be. "You first. Non-negotiable."

"You're a tough bargainer," you hum with narrowed eyes. He is at least here, and not walking in the cold. Would have to cross the river to get to the studio, and the thought of any of them drunkenly walking along it alone scares you. "Fine. But you better not get stolen, either. Twitter would have a meltdown- no, Twitter would kill me if you get stolen."

"Shut up," he laughs. Knows The Scouts have a fanbase that could scare even political leaders into submission, if they really wanted to. "They don't even know who you are."

But Yoongi is forgetting who your brother is. Forgetting that there's a good reason why Jungkook has 'look but don't touch' etched into his brain. Forgetting that there are Twitter accounts dedicated to posting updates from your socials, just for a glimpse of The Scouts.

And as you let silence simmer into the taxi, not caring to keep up a conversation, you're none the wiser that those exact fan accounts are currently screaming into the void.

The Yoongi-dedicated update accounts, too.

In fact, the entire app is on fire - and it's not gonna be an easy one to put out.

03:31AM

D4m0cl3s: you still out, clem?

Cl3m3ntin3: why? miss me?

D4m0cl3s: never

Cl3m3ntin3: hmmm well in that case, yes i am x

D4m0cl3s: i think you're lying you answered far too quickly

Cl3m3ntin3: i think you should just admit that you miss me and u just caught me at a good time :/

D4m0cl3s: but i don't? and ur nose must be soooooo big pinocchio

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah you do you've missed me sooooo much tonight, havent you? bet you've been all mopey just thinking about me aaaaaaall night me & my proportionally sized nose x

D4m0cl3s: dunno what you mean

Cl3m3ntin3: well, are you home?

D4m0cl3s: almost

Cl3m3ntin3: not even home yet and already texting me... but you don't miss me? you're lucky you've got such a nice cock i wouldn't let your lies slide so easily if you didn't

D4m0cl3s: so you're only with me for my cock?

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm not with you

D4m0cl3s: ouch noted

Cl3m3ntin3: you're the one who refuses to have me, remember?

D4m0cl3s: you know it's not like that, clem

Cl3m3ntin3: i know, babe i'm just fucking with you figuratively (sadly) i'm with friends though - i'll let you know when i'm alone, alright?

D4m0cl3s: don't worry about me enjoy your night trouble message me in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: if this is a ploy to make me message you first, it wont work

D4m0cl3s: finei 'll message you

Cl3m3ntin3: keen

D4m0cl3s: you love it

Cl3m3ntin3: suuuure i do

D4m0cl3s: stay safe, babe drink water before bed

Cl3m3ntin3: you wanna drink some clementine juice before bed?

D4m0cl3s: i dont think they make clementine juice and no you know the rules sleep off the alcohol first then send me pictures of that gorgeous cunt in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: and what will i get in return?

D4m0cl3s: the video i've just taken of myself stroking my big hard cock just for you

Cl3m3ntin3: fuck send it now? pls x

D4m0cl3s: keen and no x

Cl3m3ntin3: c'monnnn :(

D4m0cl3s: in the morning, baby just know that i'm a little drunk but so fuckin' hard

Cl3m3ntin3: no whiskey dick? i'm impressed

D4m0cl3s: i'm thinking about you nothing will ever stop me from getting hard when im thinking about you

Cl3m3ntin3: watcha thinkin about? gimmie specifics x i wanna touch myself

D4m0cl3s: that pretty cunt of yours how fuckin' wet you get god i wanna fuck you nice and slow NO FUCK STOP TEMPTING ME YOU SIREN

Cl3m3ntin3: 🙁

D4m0cl3s: in the morning

Cl3m3ntin3: you promise?

D4m0cl3s: i promise, baby go spend time with your friends message me if you need anything

Cl3m3ntin3: your dick?

D4m0cl3s: anything other than that you'll get it in the morning, clemmie promise x

D4m0cl3s is offline

GENIUS LAB Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"All good?" Yoongi hums as the door to his studio clicks shut.

He'd left the door on the latch so you could get back in when you went to the bathroom. Could have just given you the code, but he didn't want you to think he'd be making a habit of this. It's a limited-time offer. Not one that can be redeemed whenever you like. It's now, and now only.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, pulling on the back of the spare desk chair Yoongi had rolled up beside his. You don't look at him, just at the screens as you tell a little white lie. "Just let Jimin know I was okay."

Yoongi grunts some sort of agreement, but doesn't vocalise a response as such.

It's not like a complete subversion of the truth. A text has been sent to your group chat. The one with just Jungkook and Jimin. No one else needs to know your business, as far as you're concerned.

It's just that a few more texts have been sent to your Damocles boy—but that's none of Yoongi's business. You're sure he wouldn't care to know.

You're also sure he's regretting the request for help bestowed upon you on the ride back. He'd mentioned the song he was going to work on, and you'd offered to lend an ear again.

It's not an unheard-of thing. There are a couple of tracks on the last album that have been tweaked as a result of your ear, including their biggest single. You're not listed in the credits, but you never asked to be. Was just helping out a friend—even if said friend then decided to become an asshole when they started making a name for themselves.

You're tipsy, and so is Yoongi. It's easier to forget how fraught things have become when you're like this. You wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't had a few too many drinks.

You also probably wouldn't be trending all over twitter, but you're still blissfully unaware of this.

"Same track as before, right?" You ask, kicking your shoes off to get a little more comfortable on the chair.

Again, words fail Yoongi. You're forced to decipher his small noises, 'cause it's all he tends to offer you. It's not like it's a uniquely you issue—the boys have learned to speak in Yoongi-code, too.

"Okay, play it from the start," you tell him. "Show me what we're working with."

There's a cautious nature to the way Yoongi works. So preoccupied with creating perfection, he hates letting people hear his work before it's reached his self-imposed arbitrary standards. There's only a very small circle who gets the privilege of seeing how his brain works.

Despite his ever-present disdain for you, it seems like you're one of the lucky few. He'll never acknowledge this. Never admit that he favours your opinions, because he genuinely doesn't think he does.

You're frank with him. Will tell him how it is. Don't sugarcoat it. Aren't seeking his approval, so don't care to lick his ass just to keep him happy—not that he ever wants you to lick his ass. Could think of nothing worse. Not because he isn't into it, but because the thought of being with you repulses him in a way he can't quite describe. Even thinking about it makes him shudder.

But maybe that's the issue. Maybe the shudder is indicative of something else entirely.

"Yoongi?" You ask, drawing him from his thoughts. The song has finished, but he doesn't even really recall listening to it at all.

"Hm?" He hums. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"The lyrics," you say. "What's the song about? 'Cause at the moment, musically, it sounds like a heartbreak song and love song all at the same time, and I think that's what's confusing about it. It can't decide what it wants to be."

Yoongi frowns.

"It's not really either," he supposes.

In the dim lighting of his studio, Yoongi is at his very best. Focused, he's shrewd in his astute calculations. Can put together different sounds and construct melodies you wouldn't even be able to dream of. For all of his issues, there is one undeniable truth: the man is a musical genius.

It's why this is all so perplexing to him. He hates not knowing how to make things right. This is his job. It's what he excels at—and yet he's failing.

"Well, what's it about?" You softly ask, turning to look at him. "Do you have the lyrics?"

Guard clearly up, the way Yoongi looks at you is puzzling. Whatever he's written isn't something that he wants to share.

"What?" you laugh, trying to not make a big deal of things. You know how quickly he closes up, and can already sense it happening. "You told me you're seeing someone, remember? God forbid you accidentally expose the fact you're a human being with real feelings."

You half think he might smile.

He doesn't.

Instead, he reaches across his desk for a small black notebook. A little weathered, it's clearly seen a lot of thoughts in the past. The leather of the cover is tarnished, and there's a faded sticker from some instrument brand wrapping around the spine.

"Just don't ask any fuckin' questions," he grumbles.

Rolling your eyes, you gladly accept the book. Tuck your thumb between the pages where a natural divide occurs. It's testament to how long Yoongi has spent agonising over the same words.

His handwriting never changes much. Always messy. Always hard to decipher.

Or at least, it's hard for other people. You've never found it to be too taxing.

What's curious this time are the little doodles on the page. Blossoms and small fruits.

"Cherries?" You ask, chirping with a little curiosity. It's hard to work out exactly what they are, but cherries seem like the most likely thing.

Yoongi just grunts.

Getting anything from him is like getting blood from a stone.

"How the fuck do you have a functioning relationship?" You mutter, casting your eyes back down to his words. The way he refuses to converse with you is infuriating.

"I said no questions," he curtly reminds you.

The way you roll your eyes this time is far less kind. Tossing the book back down on the desk, you reach for your shoes and get to your feet without a word.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," you tell him, as your hand reaches for the door handle. "You asked me for help, Yoongi—but I can't do jack shit if you won't let me."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for critique on my relationship, did I?" He snaps back. Feels his skin get all hot. Clammy. Relationship. That's not how he'd define what he's got going on. He doesn't know why he did call it that. Doesn't know why he didn't just ignore you, when you're clearly trying to wind him up.

"You're impossible," you tell him, patience thin. The alcohol made it easier to be friendly with him, but it also makes it easier to fight, too.

"And you're unbearable!"

"Me?!" You say with such offense it almost surprises Yoongi. Turning around to fully face him, you let go of the the door handle. Let it whisper shut, the lock softly clicking into place. You're willingly trapped in the confines of his studio. Could just leave. Instead, you choose to fight. "Oh, you have some fucking nerve—"

"I thought you were going?" He cuts you off, responding to your change in position by getting to his feet too. He's not one for confrontation, but there's something about you that just gets under his skin. Makes him wanna fight right back. "So why don't you just fuckin' go?"

"I am," you assure him. You should have known that this would end in disaster. "But maybe if you channelled some of this pent-up frustration into your music, maybe you'd actually get somewhere."

"I don't need you telling me how to do my job," he sneers. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm doing perfectly fine without your unsolicited advice."

Unbelievable. Was he not the one who asked for your help? Repeatedly?

"Holy shit," you scornfully laugh. "Listen to yourself, you deluded prick! You asked—"

"Yeah, well if you didn't insist on sticking your big fuckin' Pinnochio nose into everything—"

"My big nose?! Oh, you are such an asshole."

"You're no fuckin' daisy, either," he snaps. Doesn't even really know why he's being so rude. Just knows he doesn't want to back down. Doesn't wanna let you win. "Just do us all a favour and quit before the tour. No one wants you there."

It's never been a secret that Yoongi harbours contempt for the way in which you got your jobs, but you know damn well that you've proven your worth. If it was anyone else saying these words, you'd probably be offended.

Instead, you just shake your head. Laugh. Walk a little closer just to piss him off. Encroach upon his personal space.

"Tell me, Yoongi," you say quietly, picking off a little dust from his shirt just to see how he reacts. To your surprise, he lets you. Just looks down at you. Watches to see what you'll do next. Eyes flicking up to his, the air between you is frightfully thin. "If I quit, how would you explain it to Jin? Hmm? Would you tell him the way you speak to me?"

"I've got nothing to hide," Yoongi replies just as quietly. There's an intimacy to be found somewhere hidden between your mutual disdain and heated anger. The kind of coldness that can only come from someone you once knew to be warm. "He knows you're a piece of work."

This does make you laugh. "Nothing to hide, huh?"

"Nothing," he says. His jaw is tense, and his eyes are even more so. "Nothing happened that night."

"Yoongi, I didn't even mention that night," you remind him with a smirk, pleased at your ability to get under his skin.

That night has lingered with you both: the scent of damp cedar wood and the sensation of sweltering heat against your clammy skin. It's not the kind of thing you forget, even if you never speak of it. Not with Jimin, not with Jungkook, and especially not with Yoongi.

"Just get out of my studio," he growls, eyes centred on yours. He's unwavering in the way that he stares you out; unashamed and uncompromising.

"Gladly," you say as you pull away from him.

You're not gonna beg him to be cordial with you. This atmosphere is a product of his own creation, and as miserable as it is, he's gonna have to be the one to fix it. Both as stubborn as one another, you know damn well it's gonna stay like for a while.

The door slams shut. No amount of soundproofing can obscure the way Yoongi curses into the void left by you.

But right on time, as you reach the door that leads out onto the street, your phone vibrates in your pocket. It's a little longer than the vibration of your other apps, so you know exactly what it is. Who it is. Solace is found in the form of notifications from him. Satisfaction, too.

D4m0cl3s: fuck it i need you, now, clem

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

end of part two

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alphabetboyluvr · 9 months

Text

PALLADIUM - MYG

title credit: palladium- greyson chance

pairing: dilf!yoongi x reader // friends to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut

synopsis:

min yoongi is urgent. in the way he bites his nails down to the bed, and the way his sore fingers type out desperate sentences just minutes before deadlines, he is urgent. how he prepares jaehyun’s day bag before grandma comes by, and how he double checks everything is packed, he is urgent. the requests for you to watch over jaehyun each and every deadline day are, always, predictably, urgent. but the way min yoongi falls in love with you is slow. gradual. tepid. until, like everything with min yoongi, it becomes urgent.

wordcount: 3.2K

note from holly: this was a prompt from a winner of one of my kofi quizzes! was supposed to be a drabble but now we are looking at a lil three parter. no smut in this part, just setting up our dynamics <3 yoongi is a boy dad! idc! argue with the wall!!!!

PART TWO // PART THREE

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent," Yoongi pleads across the bakery counter. Nails bitten down to the bed, he's got bags underneath his eyes. Hasn't been sleeping well these days. Hasn't really been sleeping at all.

"I told you last time—"

"I know, I know," he sighs, pushing off of the countertop and pacing a few steps away, raking a stressed palm through his long, dark hair. Dishevelled, he hasn't had it cut in a while. You'll never tell him, but you think it looks better this way. "Look, it's the last time. I promise. I just really fucked it this time."

With a raised brow, you fold your arms over your chest. The apron beneath you bunches a little awkwardly, but you've never cared much for composure around Yoongi. Have simply known him too long and seen him through too many clumsy stages of life to be bothered.

Tipping your head back, you exhale a sharp breath from the very depths of your lungs.

"You are so lucky Jaehyun is an angel baby," you eventually say, shaking your head as you reluctantly agree. "What time do you need me?"

"Deadline is at midnight," Yoongi says, "So whenever you can get to mine, really. Mum has him till seven, but then she's got Bitch'n'Stitch—"

"Hey," you scold. "My mum goes to that knitting group, too."

"I'm not calling her a bitch—but I've heard their conversations," Yoongi reminds you. He swears they don't actually do any knitting (as if they haven't handmade half of Jaehyun's closet). Thinks they spend the entire time gossiping. And while yes, they do do a lot of gossiping, they can multitask. Unlike him, apparently. "But fine. She has her knitting group at seven."

Yoongi will never simply call it a knitting group, if he can help it.

Bitch'n'Stitch is his go-to, but he's also partial to Stitching Hour.

Last week, you'd just gone on a rant about how it's inappropriate to insinuate that all women of a certain age from your small town are witches—"Women used to get burned at the stake, Yoongi. Burned!"—so he knows better than to say it out loud today, even if it makes him laugh whenever he thinks about them knitting on broomsticks.

"I'll probably be outta here at just gone six," you tell him.

It's the late shift, so you're responsible for closing and cleaning up, but after two years of part-time work alongside your studies, you're a dab hand. Can action off every item on the to-do list in record time, and to a standard even your boss can't achieve.

You're wasted on a small town like this, but someone's gotta do it.

"That's fine," Yoongi nods. "I just need to straighten this essay out and get my citations done. You can go as soon as I'm finished—and hey, you can order takeout. I'll pay."

Knowing Yoongi, he's probably surviving on instant noodles, and spending all of his money on Red Bull and Jaehyun's meticulously planned diet.

Jaehyun's been off formula for about two months, now, and Yoongi is terrified of feeding him the wrong thing. By the looks of his slightly skinnier-than-usual frame, he's the one in need of a good meal.

And so, as you're doing your final tasks of the day, you don't bin the breads that need to be chucked. Instead, you bag them up. All of them. The pastries, too. Will just have to hope Yoongi has freezer space.

By the time you make it home, you've only got ten minutes to spare for a quick shower before you need to rush to Yoongi's. You'll be a little after seven, but it's fine. You've resigned yourself to staying at Yoongi's until midnight, now.

It's how it usually goes.

He'll work up until his deadline, rewriting and revising paragraphs that are perfectly fine and need no alterations. His own worst critic, you know that he really doesn't need to stress himself out like this.

Still, he does. You think he'll always be this way—at least, he was in high school, and he remains to be this way, even in university. Too much of a habit has been formed. It's ingrained in the ridges of his brain. Pink and permanent—just like the pout on his lips as he opens his apartment door for you later that evening.

Forearm tucked under Jaehyun's pudgy thighs, Yoongi cradles his son into his side, as a look of relief relaxes onto his face. It's a stark reminder of why Yoongi stresses himself out so much.

You can afford to make mistakes. The only person you have to answer to is yourself.

Yoongi doesn't have that luxury anymore. Hasn't done for a while, now. Won't ever get it again—or at least, not for another seventeen years.

"Hey," he whispers, then casts his eyes down to Jaehyun's sleepy head. Nestling into Yoongi's shoulder, Jaehyun's dark hair now has a little length to it. Much like his own, Yoongi is refusing to cut it. Another thing he's scared of getting wrong.

The subtle nod Yoongi gestures towards Jaehyun is a request for you to be quiet.

You're familiar with his paternal habits by now; the behaviours he exhibits only when he's wearing his invisible 'Dad' hat.

He tucks back against the door, letting you walk on through and into his apartment.

Shoes off by the door, Yoongi locks up as you shake off your jacket, and hook it on the empty peg in the middle of the rack.

Small and a little dark, Yoongi hates his home. Is strapped for cash, so turned the open plan kitchen and sitting room into a studio-type set-up. Has his bed where a sofa should be, and manages to cram everything somewhere. His desk, his small keyboard, his clothing rail that he really needs to reorganise. A bunch of his things are in storage.

Jaehyun's room is what once was Yoongi's. It's got the most natural light, thanks to the window placement, not that it matters at this time of night. The curtains are drawn, playmat full of yellows and oranges scattered across the floor. Beside it, is Yoongi's laptop. The screensaver is running, and it's pretty obvious he'd been playing with the little toy octopus sprawled across the keyboard instead, when you had arrived.

"Bit late for nap time?" You question quietly as you pop your phone on the charging pad Yoongi keeps on the dresser.

Nodding, Yoongi gently rests his son down in his crib. These past couple of days, everything has been a little out of sync. He feels guilty—like he's failing—but the pressures he's been putting on himself are just getting far too great. He's doing the best he can, but it always feels like it's not enough.

But Jaehyun is loved, and sheltered, and provided for. Yoongi is doing all he can. He just still isn't sure he knows how to be a dad.

Which is silly, because as you watch him stroke across the dark hair that sits flat to Jaehyun's scalp, quietly monitoring his condition, you think that Yoongi was made for this. Is far more paternal than you are maternal.

Truth be told, you don't like kids all that much.

Your idea of a fun evening doesn't typically involve hanging out with an infant, and yet you'll do it for Yoongi. Of course, you will. Have known him for too long and have been through too much with him to not help him.

Plus, you really do adore Jaehyun. Sweet as can be when he sleeps, he really does look just like Yoongi at that age—or so you gather from the baby pictures you've seen a dozen times over at his parents' place. It's easier to count which features they don't share. Saves ever needing to do a paternity test, not that Yoongi would do one anyway.

Jaehyun is his kid. A little bit of DNA wouldn't change this fact, not in his eyes.

It worries you. Not because you think Yoongi isn't his father—again, they're too alike to not be related—but in case his mother decides she wants to play an active role in Jaehyun's life. You fear that the 1% of doubt could come true and tear any legal right away from Yoongi. You're not really sure how the courts would work it all out, but you doubt they'd side with him.

Yoongi was never meant to be a father. Not now, at least. The outcome of a one-night-stand, Jaehyun's biological mother didn't realise she was pregnant until it was too late. Had no real choice in the matter. Was also nearing the end of her tenure in law school. A kid was not—and remains to not be—a part of her plan.

You know the documents were signed. Legal rights, shit like that. Know that she must have an understanding of the law far greater than Yoongi. Just hope she hasn't done anything that will fuck him over in the future.

Still, it's not a topic of conversation Yoongi likes indulging in, and so you don't push, no matter how much you'd like to know the details.

"Let him sleep," Yoongi eventually sighs, before sinking down to lie on the rug. "Better he rests while I'm working—and plus, he slept through till five-thirty this morning."

"Till sunrise?" You chirp, a little surprised but conscious of keeping your voice down.

Yoongi nods, face rubbing against the carpet. "He's basically a teenager."

Rolling your eyes, you reach down for his wrist to drag him to his feet. He's got an essay to finish.

"Shut up," you smile. "You've barely stopped being a teenager."

Sometimes, it makes you a little sad to think that Yoongi is missing out on his early twenties—but then you glance across to Jaehyun and know that he's not missing anything. Just experiencing different things. That's all.

"Don't remind me," he grunts, lamely getting to his feet, letting you pull him down the hallway as you swipe the baby monitor that lives next to the charging pad. You'll come back for your phone later.

"C'mon, gotta finish your essay. Can't be a DILF unless you get this degree."

"Untrue."

"You'll just be a D without a good job," you tell him. "DILF's are always suited up."

"That's simply not true," he doubles down. "I've been told I'm a DILF at least, like, six times. Maybe more."

Definitely more. If he knew the way girls on campus spoke about him? God, his head would be so big he wouldn't be able to walk through doors.

But for now, you shoo him back through Jaehyun's bedroom door and to his sitting room-come-bedroom. The apartment isn't large. A baby monitor isn't needed, yet one is set up by Yoongi's bed, regardless.

And so, as Yoongi knuckles down with his work, you flop onto his bed, and take prime babysitting position—though you're pretty sure you'd get fired if you ever got under anyone else's sheets on the job.

But it's late, and you've worked a long shift. You're only gonna rest your eyes for a moment. A second. A fraction of one, even. Just to hydrate them a little. Replenish your—

You're out like a light.

The curse of Min Yoongi's bedsheets. You really should have known better. It happens every damn time. You know this. He knows this.

Yet when he eventually wakes you, neither of you mention it.

"Hey," Yoongi mumbles as he gently nudges your sleepy body. Flopping down beside you on top of the duvet, his exhausted eyes close instantaneously.

"I'm going, I'm going," you grumble into his duvet, half asleep but knowing that you should go and check on Jaehyun.

The baby monitor hasn't made any noise to wake you, and Yoongi's just been with him for the last twenty minutes, quietly watching on as he slept. Is pretty confident he's gonna sleep through again tonight.

Reaching out to pat you down, Yoongi doesn't really acknowledge the way he accidentally taps your ass. Nor do you. Just sort of pretend that he didn't. Pretend that it didn't make your heart race a little.

"S'fine," he says, voice muffled by his need for rest. "He's still sleeping. Just checked on him."

"Sure?"

"Mhm," Yoongi nods, the sound of his hair smooth against his sheets. "You gonna crash here?"

"You all done?" You question right back. Shuffle, and his hand lazily moves with you. His wrist now rests on your hip, and you both pretend like it's normal.

"All done," he confirms. "Was late, so I've lost ten percent, but whatever."

For someone who stresses himself out as much as Yoongi does over his grades, as soon as he's hit the submission button, he just ceases to care. Has a 'what'll be, will be' attitude towards it all. Part of you wishes he would adopt that mentality when he's actually writing his essays.

What you don't realise is that it manifests from the same fear.

He panics and panics and panics before a deadline—and then is so worried about his grade that he just pretends like they don't exist.

Too sleepy to care at this moment in time, Yoongi's placement of his wrist on your hip becomes more intentional. Deliberate.

It's not like you're a stranger to the weight of Yoongi's arms draped over your body. Not like it's the first time—it's just every time it does happen, you swear it'll be the last.

It never is.

And it's not like it's anything illicit. Not anything you shouldn't be doing. Nothing that takes you beyond the realms of friendship—but it does threaten the integrity of your oldest connection to another human outside of familial ties.

So every time Yoongi gets a little too close, or you find yourself lingering a little long on his words, you tell yourself to stop. That this is just a symptom of the dry spell you've been going through.

"Are you staying here tonight?" He asks.

Again, it wouldn't be the first time. Have been having sleepovers with him since you were kids. Ghost stories, midnight feasts. Sneaking out to the park to find UFOs and stopping by the corner shop for snacks.

Once high school hit, it was deemed unwise by your parents. Open door policy.

You'd been furious. Outraged that your privacy was being taken from you, and being told it was for your own good.

And so sneaking out the park became sneaking in windows; films watched with headphones on, dinner eaten in your bedroom under the guise of a melodramatic teenage strop, but actually shared with the boy from two doors down who knew better than to deceive your parents.

All innocent. Nothing that required a closed door. Those escapades were saved for—or wasted on—other people. Either, or. Neither you nor Yoongi gave it much thought. Why would you?

Friends, is what you were. What you are. What you always have been.

Which begs the question: why the fuck is Yoongi looking at you like that?

But then the wrist of Yoongi's resting on your hip becomes his hand. The grip becomes intentional. The stillness of your body comes not from tiredness, but from trepidation.

"Do you want me to?"

"It's late," he husks, thumb stroking against your hip as if that's what friends do. "You're off tomorrow, right? Don't need to go home?"

"Right."

"Well, then stay," he shrugs, loosening his grip to roll onto his back. The ceiling is far less interesting than you are, but he has to stop looking at your lips and wondering if they taste like the strawberry lip balm you'd tossed on the side cabinet earlier. "Makes sense."

"Stay?" You question as if he still needs to clearly outline that, yes, he'd like you to stay. "And do what?"

"Sleep," he dryly replies, because it's the obvious answer. Because it's what you should do. You're tired. He's tired. Jaehyun is asleep in the next room over.

"Sleep," you nod. "Sounds good."

Domestication becomes you in times like these. A toothbrush sits in an old glass on the top shelf of Yoongi's mirrored bathroom cabinet. The rest of the shelves are pretty much empty, but he always puts it up there. Says it annoys him anywhere else.

"Surely it's more annoying having to get it down for me every time I crash here?" You banter with him as you lean against the back wall of his bathroom, waiting for him to retrieve it.

Plucking it from the glass, Yoongi is swift with his movements, and the way he wets the brush, puts a pearl of toothpaste on the bristles, then hands it back over to you.

"Doesn't bother me," he shrugs, turning back around to shut the cabinet. When he does, he's greeted with your eyes in the mirror, and a feeling in his stomach that should bother him.

See, the D in Yoongi's DILF actually stands for dependable (although occasionally dickhead also fits). He likes being asked to do things. Likes being helpful. Useful. Knows that he depends on you far more than you do him, and so he does this to settle the score.

You help him pass his exams, and he helps you keep good dental hygiene habits. A win-win situation.

Leaving you to finish washing up, Yoongi does the final checks of his apartment. Bolts the door. Turns out the lights. Makes sure Jaehyun's day bag is packed for tomorrow with his Grandma. Adds the day's clothes to the laundry pile. Stands in the doorframe of Jaehyun's room to just simply watch his son exist for a little while longer.

He loses track of time doing this. It's a nightly routine, so you think he'd get used to it, but he never does. Still can't fully comprehend that a living, breathing creature relies on him for basic survival.

Sure, he hides your toothbrush away, and puts things out of reach for you just to get you asking him for help, but this is different. He cares about nothing more than making sure Jaehyun is surrounded by abundance: love, shelter, food. Everything the world has to offer, Yoongi wants for his son—and that's why he's working so damn hard to make sure it happens.

There's a tenderness to how Yoongi strokes your back when you stand beside him. He's far gentler than he used to be. Benevolent with age. Isn't the same kid who used to chase you around his parent's yard with a worm in one hand, and a pile of mud in the other.

"C'mon," you whisper, walking away because you know you need to break the contact. "Let's rest."

Yoongi nods. Is slow as he tears his gaze from his son, but just as stoic as he watches you saunter down the hallway and into your bedroom for the night. His bedroom.

You slip out of sight, just in time for Yoongi to exhale the air in his lungs. His sigh is full of unspoken words. Uncertain terms—and as he follows you down, he wonders how many more secrets will bloat his lungs throughout the night.

982 notes · View notes

alphabetboyluvr · 9 months

Text

HUSH | MYG - ONE

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?)

premise: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops !!

wc: 17.5k

for more details, pls see the master list (x)

hush is written in two formats: messaging transcripts and my regular writing style

warnings: we're sexting, straight off the bat!! love that for our hush couple!! allusions to sending nudes, mentions of blueballing lmao, sex toys, general masturbation malarky, mentions of ass play <33, they video call during finales (back camera only!!!), yoongi has a massive cock, like im talking humongous, so BIG (and factually accurate!!) they're switchy aka he tries dom and she's too much of a brat that he folds, he is whiney and needy and obsessed, and she enjoys that! you get to fill in the gaps as if you're really sexting him, lucky you <33 there's also exactly (1) near foot job, a needy jk, (1) banana milk mention, a playfight, miscommunication, a mysterious night that will never be mentioned in conversation. oh yeah and yoongi and you don't realise you're sexting one another ! oops!!!! yoongi is uncircumcised cause ik some people care about that?? just my preference when writing, imagine what u like! no *actual* smut in this one... just... much sexting!

before you read: please read these for a little context on the story - the app (x) and the band (x)

minors dni!!!

New Hush Crush in your Secret Circle! D4m0cl3s

10:43PM

D4m0cl3s: hey, stranger

Cl3m3ntin3: well hello there how are you??

D4m0cl3s: i'm all good. yourself?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah, yeah, im all good just tryna figure out this damn app, lmao

D4m0cl3s: you new around these parts?

Cl3m3ntin3: i am indeed you've taken my secret circle virginity lucky you x

D4m0cl3s: oh shit well, i am honoured i can be your guide to all things hush x

Cl3m3ntin3: oh, i seeeeee an expert, are we? ;)

D4m0cl3s: just realised how tragic it is to be a self-proclaimed dating app expert, so... no not an expert just.... well versed?

Cl3m3ntin3: hahaha sureeee so, tell me, mr hush expert, how do these conversations usually go

D4m0cl3s: okay, 1: not an expert and 2: just general chit chat get an idea of what you're both looking for stuff like that

Cl3m3ntin3: 1: keep telling yourself that, babe and 2: what are you looking for?

D4m0cl3s: 1: calling me babe, already? score. 2: a girl who calls me babe.

Cl3m3ntin3: looks like my work here is done, then ;) seeeeeeya x

D4m0cl3s: no don't go stay i think we'll get along tell me what you're looking for

Cl3m3ntin3: a man who begs for my attention so looks like your work here is done, too ;)

D4m0cl3s: well, aren't we just a match made in heaven?

Cl3m3ntin3: hell* definitely a match made in hell

D4m0cl3s: you a sinner?

Cl3m3ntin3: would you like me to be?

D4m0cl3s: tempting... but no

Cl3m3ntin3: shame maybe we are after different things after all

D4m0cl3s: woaaah, i never said that i was just trying to be a gentleman take things slow be respectful

Cl3m3ntin3: it's anonymous, babe i didn't sign up for hush looking to be wined and dined or to be treated like a lady quite the opposite, actually so you don't need to worry about tarnishing your reputation, or whatever your secrets are safe with me ;)

D4m0cl3s: 1. i couldn't give a shit about my reputation and 2. it's just that people are on this app for different reasons don't wanna assume everyone is after the same thing

Cl3m3ntin3: 1. untouchable, are you? and 2. well, im pretty sure you know what i'm here for and if it's not abundantly obvious: nothing serious. it's late, and i'm bored. what's a girl to do in those kinds of situations? play all alone? boringgg. my cards are on the table, damocles you're up.

D4m0cl3s: untouchable...something like that and fine if you really wanna know i'm not looking for a girl to take home to my mother

Cl3m3ntin3: good mothers don't tend to like me all that much

D4m0cl3s: no?

Cl3m3ntin3: nah fathers on the other hand? fucking love me

D4m0cl3s: and you wonder why the mothers hate you?

Cl3m3ntin3: oh, no im fully aware it's because im the only thing that can get their husbands' perpetually flaccid cocks hard :)

D4m0cl3s: jesus christ you really are built for sin, aren't you?

Cl3m3ntin3: uh-huh :) fancy a dance with the devil?

D4m0cl3s: not tonight but you've got me interested

Cl3m3ntin3: </3 can't believe you're blue balling me

D4m0cl3s: trust me im blue balling myself i've got an early schedule in the morning can't stay up all night entertaining some girl on a fucking app ;)

Cl3m3ntin3: okay 1: ouch, if anyone was doing the entertaining, it would be me and 2: prove it

D4m0cl3s: prove it?

Cl3m3ntin3: uh-huh prove that you're blue balling yourself

D4m0cl3s: again, jesus christ you are something else

Cl3m3ntin3: thank you :D now... proof

D4m0cl3s: say please

Cl3m3ntin3: you want me to get down on my knees, too?

D4m0cl3s: would be appreciated

Cl3m3ntin3: fine

D4m0cl3s: watch your attitude, clementine

Cl3m3ntin3: sighhh hate you for this already >:( pretty please could you show me your cock so i know you're hard and not just lying <;33

D4m0cl3s: see, that wasn't so hard, was it? good girl

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

Cl3m3ntin3: holy shit

D4m0cl3s: i might keep secrets, but i never lie let's talk tomorrow, alright?

Cl3m3ntin3: noted and tomorrow for sure sweet dreams, damocles x

D4m0cl3s: night night, clementine x

[3 Months Later] KSPO DOME Seoul, South Korea

♪ // Hush - The Marías

"You'll choke if you're not careful – and how many times do I need to tell you? Put that damn phone away!"

If Park Jimin wasn't so warm in his tone with you—effervescent in his kindness, bubbling over like lightly shaken soda—you'd tell him to kiss your ass.

He stands in the doorway, a pretty smile on his plump lips. There's something about him—his eyes, you think—that subvert all his softness. Makes him quite the menace. If you hadn't been there to witness his high-school bowl cut era, you never would believed it had happened. He's too cool. It transcends his current being. Is effortless.

In all black, a pair of Chelsea boots soundtrack his arrival no matter where he is. A little scuffed, he's in need of a new pair—but they'll be a post-show bonus treat. From Jimin, to Jimin. Congratulations on a job well done.

With a subtle roll of your eyes, you swallow down the blueberry you'd been holding between your teeth in a dingy backroom of Seoul's KSPO Dome—the venue of choice for The Scouts' final hometown show. The brickwork remains exposed, grey concrete blocks a dull backdrop for the catering tables.

"Sorry mum," you banter, even though you really shouldn't. There's a glint to your eyes beneath the awkward spotlighting that really isn't preferable for the buffet-style display behind you. Fruits, snacks, it's not a bad spread—but it's got nothing on the rider you know The Scouts ask for ahead of every show.

But why shouldn't they? What the boys want, the boys get – and they've worked damn hard to get it.

He nods towards the lanyard around your neck and reminds you of this, then holds up his.

Park Jimin, it reads. Senior Tour Manager.

"Not on the clock, trouble. I'm still your boss."

"And don't I know it," you offer him a smile, still not a huge fan of the dynamic the pair of you portray at work.

You've known Jimin since the tooth fairy was leaving coins under his pillow. It's sorta hard to take him seriously when you've experienced as much life together as you have.

The way he groans when you reach for yet another blueberry is testament to the friendship you share; the kind of found siblings written about in books but rarely found in reality. There's a sanctity there. He's got your back, and he knows you'll always pick up the slack when he needs you to.

For all your difficulties in the short-term, he knows you pull it out of the bag come the time results are needed.

Knocking the blueberry into your mouth with a grin, you use your tongue to toss it to your back teeth. It's a teeny tiny little fruit. You're pretty sure you could swallow it whole without repercussion.

In fact, the reason you were so engrossed in your phone is because you were about to start a discussion with a... friend about something else you could swallow, instead – but you won't tell Jimin that. He'd throw up, probably, and then it'd be your job to clean it up.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, locking your phone and tucking it into your back pocket. "Sorry boss. Where do you need me?"

He narrows his eyes at your sarcastic use of formalities, but knows when to pick his battles with you. Instead, he knocks his head to the side and heads for the doorway, indicating for you to follow suit.

Just like he knows when to pick his battles with you, you also know when to pick yours with him.

"You've a job that people would likely kill for," he ribs, not really minding all that much. It's downtime between the off-stage rush, so there really isn't all that much to be doing—but you could at least pretend to make it look like you're working your ass off. "But you're too busy on your bloody phone. Head to hair and make-up. The next VCR segment is smaller so I need you in position pronto."

"Sure, sure," you nod like a bobbing head figurine, stealing a handful of blueberries from the catering table and heading on your way.

Jimin watches on with a curious sense of bewilderment. You're the best runner they have, by quite some margin, but also seemingly the one that's least eager to please—and by doing so, they seem to like you even more. It's an odd paradox, but it is one that you use to your advantage. Play a little dumb; wow them all when you continually and quite impressively exceed their expectations. Work smarter, not harder.

It's a work ethic that runs in the family. They shouldn't be surprised by it, not really.

The corridor you head down is flanked by sterile white lights. The only thing that's brighter are the faux smiles of entertainment execs and slimy media men, who are all after their fifteen minutes of favour—because it's not fame they'll get by rubbing shoulders with the boys on stage; it's a boost up. Something to talk big about in board room meetings.

A humble brag; a subtle flex, that is neither humble nor subtle.

Your lanyard taps against the buckle of your belt as you jog towards the stage. A cute little pat-pat-pat and jingle of keys from your beltloop soundtracks it, which you're thankful for. It covers the heavy breathing.

Just shy of the staircase leading up to the platform, which is almost shaking from the exertion of the performers on it, you hanger left into the room beside the dressing room.

While the dressing room is a dingy, theatrical maximalist's dream, the make-up department has a shell for a room. Bright white lights are overhead, to make sure the boys look amazing—which they always do regardless. Personally, you think this is all overkill. Takes away some of the authenticity. People swoon for The Scouts and the fact they're walking, talking hot messes. When the 'mess' is carefully applied with tiny brushes and kept in place with setting spray, it just doesn't hit the same.

Still, the fans are none the wiser, so who cares? Let them think Jeon Jungkook has flawless skin after an all-night bender.

Annoyingly, he normally does – but that's beyond the point.

"Here she is," Jinyu grins as you walk through the door with a little huff, immediately picking up a setlist by the door to fan your face.

Ethereal as usual, hair pulled back with a claw clip and a grown-out fringe framing her delicate features, Jinyu's mask pulled down to rest beneath her chin. A make-up brush is tucked behind her ear and half a dozen hair grips are biting onto the sleeve of her shirt, ready for the rush that will come with the next VCR break.

At least one of you is, you think.

She always is, though. Best of the bunch, she's the senior make-up artist, and has an example to lead by.

The rest of the make-up artists sit together in the far corner, nattering amongst themselves with far more animation than their hushed tones should really allow for. It's not an uncommon occurrence.

They like to pretend that they don't want anyone to know their business, but you've heard it all.

You could share, in quite some detail, how Jungkook likes to look at his regular make-up artist's lips whenever she's applying balm to his.

Apparently, the tension is 'off the charts', but he's 'too shy to do anything'. Always asks for balm, even when he doesn't need it. Or so she says.

You roll your eyes whenever you hear her brag about it, 'cause you've also heard the conversations that the boys have had behind closed doors. You know that if Jungkook is gonna be after any of the make-up artists, it's Jinyu—but the ring on her fourth finger and the toddler she sometimes brings to work on the quiet days is enough for him to stay away.

The lifestyles lived by The Scouts wouldn't allow for any of them to be playing 'Daddy'—though the girls who've squeezed into their tour bus bunks would probably beg to differ.

It's not just Jungkook who they like to gossip about—although he is the current flavour of the month, ever since he got that bloody lip ring.

In all honesty, you've heard so much shite about all five members that it's a miracle the girls still have jobs.

A new addition to the team since the overwhelming success of the last album run, the record label are keen on The Scouts keeping up their appearances. Gone are the days of sleeping in eyeliner and waking up with panda eyes—now it's carefully placed with precision beneath their tired lashlines, bloodshot eyes still bleary from the night before.

According to the last make-up room rumour mill, Tae is the type to send a late-night text to a handful of girls at once, just to see who bites (of which they all do, of course), and Yoongi is the type to sit silently in the make-up chair, only to make some absurdly unhinged comment as he leaves for the stage.

It's what they're talking about as you and Jinyu exchange glances with comically raised brows and wide eyes.

"Like, the whole time, he must have just been sat there, thinking about it," one of them swoons. "Didn't say a single word, and then just said 'your perfume smells nice, today,' as he was leaving."

The way they giggle makes your skin crawl. It's like they're constantly trying to one-up one another, using the men they work for as tools to do so – and you can't really blame them. As much as you may hate it, it's a man's world, especially in this industry. If you've gotta climb a few greasy poles to reach the top, then more power to those who choose to do so.

"He definitely spent the whole time thinking about it."

"What perfume are you wearing? I wouldn't mind him saying that to me..."

"God, he's such a dream boat."

"Something about him lately is just... ugh, off the charts. We need to stop styling his hair like that. It's too good."

You don't mean to be so judgemental – you've got a pair of eyes. Know exactly why they insist on giggling about their delusions.

Thing is, you can deal with the Jungkook gossip. Tae, Yoongi, Namjoon – whatever.

It's when they start talking about Jin and fail to hide the fact they're doing so that you're reminded of exactly why it grinds your gears so much.

In fact, quite frankly, you've a desire to pick up one of Jinyu's rattail combs and shove it into your ear. Would hope it'd impale your brain. You're not really sure how deep you'd have to go, but it would beat hearing them fawn over your older brother.

You've heard things being said about his hands that no younger sister should ever have to. Quite repulsive, actually.

Instead, you grimace, trying to gain back your breath following your sprint (of which Jimin would call a leisurely pace) up the corridor.

"Why does catering have to be so far from the dressing room?!"

Jinyu watches on with great amusement as you rest your hands on your knees, bending as if you've just run a 10k. Dramatics run in the family, or so it would seem.

"I dunno, babe," Jinyu purrs, her smile present just like it always is, voice a little extra loud to drown out the noise of the witches gathered in the corner. "Why was my favourite runner over in catering in the first place?"

You let your eyes narrow, her teasing grin only serving as a reminder that you really should know better than to keep on going back to the blueberry stash. It's not like you aren't allowed them. They'd all go to waste otherwise, so if anything, you're snacking on behalf of the company.

"You couldda just had them call one of the other runners back," you pout, knowing that it never would have been the case. She likes to make you work a little bit harder than the others, 'cause she knows you feel like you have more to prove.

Jinyu laughs, and passes you some hair grips to hook onto your sleeves for later. "You're the one who said you wanted to establish yourself! What was it you said at the start of these shows?"

You drop down onto the sofa next to her makeup station, tucking your legs up on the seat. The vibration of the music on stage pours through the walls at such a volume you're surprised you can even sustain a conversation.

"I'm gonna show them," Jinyu imitates with far more dramatic flair than you think is really necessary—but it is accurate. "I'll prove to them all that nepotism had nothing to do with me getting hired. Who, me?" She gasps."The baby sister of our very own World Wide Handsome? Hired because my brother pulled some strings? Never!"

"Fuck off," you laugh, tossing one of the sofa pillows towards her—but she catches it with ease because of course she does. Jinyu is everything you could ever aspire to be, hand-eye coordination included. The girls in the corner hush their conversation and begin to take an interest in your conversation. You ignore them, shrugging as you say, "It's not like I have a first-class degree in stage management or anything like that."

Sure, you have the qualifications—but you also aren't stupid. You know that the job is a favour amongst family. The job market these days is non-existent and while being Jin's sibling had afforded you a follower count worthy of an influencer, you need a purpose in life. It's no coincidence that you both showed an interest in the music industry—he's just far better suited to the performance side of it.

It would have been foolish to turn down the opportunity when Jin had mentioned it at a family dinner.

You're low-level, just a runner for now, but it's nice to be somewhere in which people don't give a shit about your famous brother. To most people here, he's a coworker, a colleague.

Outside of work, your entire personality to anyone you first meet is apparently being related to him. In all honestly, it's the same even in a professional capacity. Had started lying on your resume about your name, just so he wasn't the topic of conversation for all of your job interviews.

Remarkably, this is the only job that hasn't cared about him being your brother.

"Whatever you say. That's our cue. Off your arse," Jinyu says, her demeanour switching as the sound of the final chorus begins to simmer down. You don't need to be told twice, getting to your feet and into position beside her. "Can you be my right hand?"

♪ // Only Angel - Harry Styles

"Sure," you nod, expecting nothing less. It's not much, just putting some hair grips in place while she touches up their stage makeup, and switching out brushes as and when she needs them. Just enough to be helpful without getting in her way.

The girls in the corner follow suit, standing behind their chairs, eager to see the men in all of their sweaty, worn-out glory. They've made no secret of their admiration, which is why Jinyu is such a breath of fresh air. A fair few years older than the boys, she's happily married and doesn't care to swoon over them.

Like a force of nature, The Scouts rumble into the room - lips ajar, chest heaving, hair damp with sweat.

Jungkook is first, slamming his body down into one of the chairs, in dire need of something other than the piss-warm beer he's got up on stage. Tossing him a bottle of water from the countertop behind you, he catches it with ease. Smirks. Looks at you with all the adrenaline he's stolen from the eyes of the fans that adore him. Legs wide, bottle undone with one hand, there's a challenge to his gaze. Performing is a fuckin' drug to Jeon Jungkook - you just wish he didn't keep such a fucked-out look on that pretty face of his whenever he finishes.

So yeah, maybe you do get why the girls chitchat in the way that they do.

The rest of the band follow in, equally trashed, in the best possible way. Taehyung's shirt has miraculously lost all of its buttons, and Namjoon's T-shirt is now slung around his shoulders like a towel. His hair drips with sweat, arms swollen from the exertion of the last few days of shows.

Behind them, Yoongi strolls with an air of arrogance he carries off ever so well. Indifferent. Just as covered in sweat, but without the entire body exhaustion the other Scouts are displaying. He's too cool for his own good. Doesn't look at you. Looks right through you. Asshole.

And then finally, presumably because he was too busy flirting with the audience, the Scout Leader himself makes his grand entrance. Plastic cup in hand, he's nursing a Jack and Coke. Doesn't see the point in all this make-up malarky, when he knows he's just gonna sweat it off anyway. Would much rather actually take this time to recharge, even if just for a second. Thought that adding VCR's to shows would allow them more time for that, and is sorely disappointed by the reality of it.

"Fucking hell, has it been raining?" You deadpan when he slinks down into the chair opposite you and Jinyu. "Y'know, you should get some of those sweat-reduction botox injections. Would work wonders."

He looks at you with disdain that clearly tells you to fuck off. He stays silent. Kicks your shin, instead. You kick him right back.

"I swear the pair of you are worse than my two-year-old," Jinyu sighs as she drapes a towel around Jin's shoulders.

"Someone needs to humble him," you shrug.

"Someone needs to fire you," he says right back, not realising that Jinyu had passed you her hair mister, earning himself a spritz of water to the face.

Effective immediately, your hair mister privileges are taken away. Jinyu's pleasant smile looks almost stern as she takes it, putting it down on the dressing table with a thud.

"We've got three minutes," she reminds you.

"Sorry boss," you quip, not wanting her to actually get pissed off at you. There are certain liberties you can take, but you're supposed to be helping her, not a hindrance.

There's subdued energy in the room now that the boys have settled, not wanting to waste their fuel anywhere other than the stage. As you push grips into Jin's hair, ready for hairspray, you watch the room in the mirror view.

Taehyung is on his phone, not paying any attention to what's going on, his makeup artist working silently. Jungkook is patting down his own face with powder while his stylist teases his hair just right.

You look at him for a little too long, his eyes coming to meet yours in the mirror. Despite the pitch-black darkness of his irises, there's a lightness in his gaze—one that has your skin feeling all prickly and hot, eyes darting back down to Jin's hair.

You think you can hear him laughing to himself.

It's confirmed when Jimin waltzes into the room, clipboard in hand and asks, "What's got you giggling, Kook?"

He lies, and says he's thinking about his dog, Bam, just to save you from embarrassment.

You glance back up to where his eyes are already waiting for yours, brows lifted as he smirks. You make vague shapes with your mouth as if you're telling him to 'fuck off,' which only serves to make him laugh again, a little harder this time. He keeps it quiet, shoulders bobbing up and down, his smile magnetic.

It's all in good fun. There's been a running joke for years now that you'll date Jungkook just to piss off Jin.

You already know his make-up artist will twist that moment to her own liking, making up some bullshit about him laughing with her, but it's barely worth your energy.

Beside him, Jimin vies for attention from Yoongi, who looks like he's in need of a good nap.

There's a sheen to his skin, sweat dripping down his neck thanks to his make-up artists failing to grab him a towel. You call for Jimin's attention, and once you have it, you chuck him one of the spare towels over your shoulder. He tilts his head in confusion, but when you nod towards Yoongi, he understands.

The towel is passed along, a simple 'hm?' from Yoongi to question where it came from. Jimin nods towards you, and Yoongi takes a second to observe what you're doing. You're not looking at him, because quite frankly, he intimidates you.

He never used to.

In fact, you used to get along quite well—but you're vaguely aware of the fact he doesn't approve of nepotism, and knows that the only reason you secured this job is because of Jin.

It makes you feel a little embarrassed. A little ashamed. None of the other boys seem to care, but it puts you on edge with Yoongi. You try extra hard—be extra diligent—with him. He seems to be the one you seek validation from the most, despite him being the one you interact with the least.

In the corner of the room, Taehyung and Namjoon discuss the next song. A change from yesterday's set, they've been switching up songs so that no one really knows what to expect next. Have to keep things fresh. Keep their names trending. Get those streams. Meet industry targets set by suits with no real understanding of what it means to make art.

It's admirable how much they cram into such little time. Masters of their craft, it's an honour to see them work. It's without a doubt that they've earned their success.

You kind of get why Yoongi is hesitant of you. You feel underqualified, as if you haven't worked hard enough to earn the role you've been given—but you have. You have the credentials. Jin opened the door for you, yes, but you're the one who had the key in the first place.

You're distracted by your thoughts when your phone buzzes in your back pocket. The vibration hums just a little bit longer than any of your other app notifications, so you know exactly what it is. Know who it is.

Kind of.

There's a little bit of bashful shame that washes over your features, fearful someone will hear the buzz and recognise its length—not that anyone would notice the soft purr in the back pocket of your jeans, cushioned by your ass. It's just as incognito as the man who's sending you a message is.

Your phone buzzes a few times. Seven, to be precise.

Needy, you think to yourself—but it pleases you. He never fails to disappoint.

Well, rarely. You've been waiting half an hour for a message from him, and it's so bloody typical that it would come through when you're finally busy.

"Positions!" Jimin calls from the corridor, letting the boys know their rest time is up.

Jinyu casts an authoritative eye over the boys, checking to make sure they all look okay before sending them on their way.

"Hair grip," she reminds Jungkook's stylist, who had left a tiny little clip in his fringe. She flusters, embarrassed at missing such a detail, but Jungkook just pulls it from his fringe without much care as he puts his phone back on its wireless charging port.

Namjoon follows suit, reminded that his phone was in his back pocket, tossing it on one of the dressing room tables. Yoongi tucks his phone into a bag by the sofa, and Tae does the same.

They file out in good spirits, hyping one another up for the final part of the show, staff patting their backs and cheering on words of encouragement. It's always bittersweet for them; their final performances are their favourites, but they're also the ones in which they know they'll be saying farewell—and no one likes goodbyes.

You watch with fondness as the stage-cam plays on the TV in the corner of the room. There's something about the five of them together, on stage, surrounded by an ocean of unadulterated love and affection, that feels like watching magic. It's the kind of thing that only happens once in a lifetime. You're thankful you get to witness it in all its glory. You'll probably watch the final few songs from the side of the stage, just to feel even an ounce of what the boys do.

Sinking back into the sofa, the scent of hot, sweaty men clouding the air, you pull your phone from your pocket—and sure enough, you're met with the notifications you've been hoping for.

New Secret from D4m0cl3s D4m0cl3s: late shift tonight, sorry one of the girls on my team made a joke about how tense i seem to be said i need to get laid... i told her she needs to mind her own fucking business but... it also got me thinking about you i finish in an hour give me a reason not to go out and get laid

You smile, as the heat that pricked at your skin when Jungkook caught your eye earlier that evening returns.

Part of you toys with the idea of 'what if it's him?' His phone is face down on its charger, all of his secrets hidden from the world.

Part of you hopes it is, just for the knowledge of it irritating the fuck out of Jin and the girls who are sat in the corner, gossiping about his giggling earlier.

Realistically, you know it's not. It's impossible.

You've been sent enough pictures from your Damocles boy of his hands doing unthinkable things to know it can't be Jungkook. They're free of ink, pristine and pale, a little pink in their tone, and the only clue you have of who the fuck you spend so much time talking to.

"Where are you off to now?!" Jinyu asks as you head for the door, somehow surprised that you're dipping again.

"Catering," you lie, knowing full well you're going to find somewhere private enough to give your Damocles boy exactly what he's after.

"You'll turn into a blueberry," she warns you. You hold back a laugh, and resist the urge to tell her that what you're actually about to turn into is a clementine.

There are half a dozen doors down the corridor, but you slide into the first storage cupboard you come across. It's empty, and there's a lock on it, which is all you really need.

If you'd have stayed in the dressing room, it would have been a tomato you turned into, instead. Your cheeks would flush scarlet red, just like they did when the familiar purr of a Hush notification chimed far too loudly for something that's supposed to be all about keeping secrets.

You'd take a second. Wouldn't want to check your own phone, 'cause then all the girls would know you'd received a message from a hook-up app.

But you're not in the room. Nor is your phone.

And they all hear it regardless.

The girls who gossip pause, wondering if they've all heard the same thing. Jinyu is oblivious, happily married and unaware of what Hush even really is, let alone the vibrate tone.

One, two, three messages ping their way from your phone to his, but you're none the wiser. Haven't got a clue.

It's been three months, and neither one of you has any desire to disclose your identity to the other. You're serving a purpose; fulfilling a need.

Why ruin a good thing?

You aren't 'good', nor opposed to being ruined—but that's neither really here nor there. You've got a system that works, and it would be foolish to change things now.

You return to the dressing room, unaware that your phone isn't the only device within those four walls littered with pictures of your bare chest. In fact, everyone is unaware. It's your own little secret that you don't even realise you're keeping, and one that you intend on taking to the grave.

"No blueberries?" Jinyu asks as you return empty-handed.

"Got distracted," you lie, as you settle back into the sofa, a pleasant air surrounding you. On the screen, the boys are laughing, indulging in the energy of their fans for the final time that evening.

"By?" she presses, curious as to why you're looking all smitten as you watch the screen.

It's got nothing to do with any of them.

Or so you think.

It's actually got a whole lot to do with one of them.

You just don't realise it yet.

And so you simply shrug, and say, "Secret."

"C'mon," Jungkook grins, eyes still swathed by the glow of mobile phone flashlights held up during the encore, even a whole thirty minutes after the show is over. He tugs on your arm, but you remain fixed in place, shaking your head. "We're all going, aren't we?"

The question is addressed to the boys, but he's still looking at you. You wish he wouldn't. Not when he looks like that.

His lips are wet, freshly licked, glistening like his silver lip ring, and his hair is still a little damp around the nape of his neck. There's something about him that looks a lot like magic. It's a wonder you haven't fallen under his spell.

"Uh-huh," Jin nods, tossing back the dregs of his final jack and coke. He's not yet run the rider dry, but it doesn't matter. He'll take the bottle with him, and wherever they end up won't turn them away, for they know he'll buy more – though the bar will likely comp it through. "You can ride with me."

Jungkook's grin widens. He loves it when a plan comes together.

♪ // No Shame - Five Seconds of Summer

"C'mon," Jungkook says again. Is quiet in his tone. Persuasive. "I'll miss you if you're not there."

"Is that supposed to make me feel a certain type of way?" You deadpan. "Try it on one of the makeup girlies. They'll eat it right up."

"Don't wanna try it on one of them," he whines a little, nudging his shoulder against yours. "It's our final show. We're celebrating."

"Your final show," you remind him. "I've got a gig next week. Some European group-"

"Don't care," he says. "You're ours for the night. Come party."

You roll your eyes back so hard it feels like you might have just seen your frontal lobe, but there's a smile on your lips, too. It's nice to feel wanted; appreciated.

The invite isn't extended to the make-up artists, who are busy packing away, hoping that Jungkook's neediness will shift to them instead. It won't, but they can keep dreaming.

"If I come - and it's a strong if - you're paying," you bargain.

All you really want is to get home as quickly as you possibly can. Had even considered ordering a taxi before the boys had finished their set, but knew Jimin would have a field day with that one. Might even dock your pay just to be a little git.

You've a date with your phone, but the draw of real life is just too tempting.

It's difficult, because you know that you should want to go out, want to celebrate the fact you can actually go out now that the shows are done... but a random dude sending dick pics somehow seems to be more appealing.

It's tragic, really. Something that you never wanna have to explain. You think you'd rather die. Are shameful of your shamelessness. Ironic.

And right on time, a buzz in your back pocket rumbles through you like a crack of lightning; burns your cheeks a pretty posy pink.

Jungkook's ignorance of your reaction is a blessing. You're not sure how you would've explained it away - though knowing Jungkook, he'd have used your blush to wind Jin up. Attribute it to himself. Play into the idea of you hooking up with him.

It's not like you've never considered it – but lately, it's been hard to 'consider' anyone other than your Damocles boy.

You're reminded of him now – his thick, pink knuckles, and his notably thicker, marginally less pink cock- and how he said that someone on his team told him he needed to get laid. You can't help but think the same for yourself.

It's not healthy, the way you're so drawn to the excitement a few pixels can give you. Is stopping you from living your real life.

There's an unease in your stomach; guilt, almost.

So you groan, knock your head back, and concede. "Fine!"

"Attagirl!" Jungkook beams as he pulls his phone from his pocket, checking the time and pushing it back into his jeans again. He reaches over for his bag, the scent of his aftershave catching you off guard. There's something about him... Something you know you should ignore, but are finding harder and harder to do so with each and every passing day. "We good to go?"

"Who else is coming?" You hum, heading to the coat rack to pick up your jacket. Tae is leaning against the door frame, shaking his head.

"Not me. Got a date with my bed," he says, ending his sentence with a yawn. He covers it with the back of his hand, but it's so loud you almost find yourself yawning too.

"Pussy," Jungkook scoffs. "Final show and-"

"Me either," Yoongi says as he walks past, not looking in your direction. The jacket that hangs around his broad shoulders is dark, just like his mood always seems these days.

You're not exactly sure when he decided that you weren't worthy of his time, but you're used to it now. Sucks, but such is life. He's always been a little like this, but it's your first time being on the receiving end of his coldness.

"Hot date with your bed?" You tease, hoping to get a little bit of warmth from him.

As he reaches the door, it surprises you both when he turns to look at you. There's a stillness to him; the slow evaporation of cloudy breaths in sub-zero temperatures. His eyes meet yours, and drop down your body. Pause when they land on your palms, and the phone that's being held in them.

His gaze returns to your eyes, fast quicker this time, and then he shrugs. "Yeah, something like that."

He doesn't wait for a reply. You don't intend on giving him one, either.

"And then there were 5," Jungkook sighs. "Fuck it, let's go."

STAIRWAY BAR Itaewon-ro, Yongsan-Gu

♪ // Heaven and Back - Chase Atlantic

There's something sordid about the place you're in. Could be the neon lights on the walls, could be the walls lined with stacks upon stacks of old vinyl records. Could be the birdcages where lampshades should be, or it could be the worn-out leather sofas you're on in the corner of the room. Could be the punters, and how they're all wrapped in their own personal brand of sin, too busy to notice the living legends walking amongst them.

Truthfully, it's why the boys like places like this. They become one with the shadows. Can hide. Do things in secret that other people do in public. It's not like they're actively looking for trouble, but they can't help but seem to find it. Whether it be women, drugs, booze, it doesn't matter – they've each got a kryptonite.

Regretfully, you know Jin's: women who are no good for him. Blonde, brunette, foreign, local, he doesn't give a shit. All that matters is they know who he is, and they want him in inexplicable ways.

Credit where it's due, they all have conviction. All get exactly what they want – but he's easy. Sluts himself out for the fun of it; for the novelty of being a 'rockstar'.

It's gotten worse since their last big award show win. He's getting careless. Has never been one to hand out NDAs, but the kind of people he's attracting now really should have gag orders – issue is, Jin's always far more focused on finding out how sensitive their gag reflex is.

Namjoon's is his inability to say 'no'. Afterparty? He's there. Toke on a joint that has no business being in the hands of such a high-profile man? Go on, then. An upper before a show? Don't mind if I do.

It's a disaster waiting to happen. Anywhere else and you wouldn't worry. In the States, it'd be a non-issue. Expected, even.

The laws aren't so forgiving, here. One bad decision and that's it. Jail time. But sir, I'm a rockstar, pwetty pwease let me go, won't work on a court judge, and even if it did, the court of public opinion and trial by social media would run him into the ground regardless.

Unfair? You think so, yes. Just how life goes? Also yes.

Though they all push the limits to a certain extent, it's Jungkook that's the biggest risk of all. He's the youngest. Got girls lining around the block just to have a look at him. Is bad in a way that girls convince themselves is good. I can fix him. All starry-eyed and sex appeal, there's nothing innocent about him. Nothing.

S'why you know better than to indulge in his flirt – because that's all it ever is. A limit to push. A boundary to break. A challenge he wants to win.

In quite the contrast, Taehyung keeps his boundaries watertight. Doesn't stray, doesn't overindulge. Goes home to a partner who'd give him the world, if he asked – but he won't. See, Kim Taehyung already has the world. Not his career (though it could be argued), not his money, not his fame. They're perks, sure – but his world waits up for him with his favourite snacks on the kitchen counter, ready to hear all about the show.

It's only the close circle that knows. The make-up girls don't have a clue. Jinyu is well aware, but not because it's ever been discussed. She just knows. Is intuitive, like that. Probably knows more about the boys' business than even Jimin does – and it's his job to know their business.

Though the boys would argue that Yoongi has no weakness, you believe otherwise.

His Achilles heal is found in his solitude. His laissez-faire attitude to the world around him stunts his enjoyment of it, you think. He's never gonna be in his twenties in the biggest band in the world ever again. These days will pass him by, and he's wasting them.

If he were to know you felt this way, he wouldn't dignify you with a response; he'd just show up to even fewer events to spite you. Has no interest in your unsolicited opinions of him.

Because you're wrong about his weaknesses.

While yes, his solitude exacerbates them, it's the silence that nurtures his weaknesses: his regrets. His inability to forget. Forgive. Let things go. He fixates, and it frustrates him to the point of fury.

His kryptonite is not how little he cares. Quite contrary. It's how violently he does care. That's what ties his shoelaces together and trips him up. Gives him a bloody nose. Scrapes his knees. Leaves him bloodied and bruised; pink in his pain.

But that's your kryptonite: your cocksure arrogance in thinking you know everything.

Or at least, that's what Yoongi would tell you, if he were ever to get into this debate with you.

He won't.

Again, you'll think it's because he's laissez-faire. That he doesn't care.

Regretfully, you'll be wrong – but he's the one who simmers over regrets, not you.

"Alright, alright!" You laugh, a little unsteady on your feet as you stand up after god-knows how many shots. Namjoon reaches out to steady you. Glances at Jin as if to say, 'kids, eh?'

You're all fucked. Have had far too much, but you figure that's what nights like these are for – who cares? You're celebrating.

Jin just smiles. Rolls his eyes, then averts his attention to the blonde by the bar who's gonna take your seat as soon as you leave.

Jungkook doesn't notice, cause he's too busy laughing at you.

"Just gonna run to the bathroom," you declare, as if they need to know such details. "Need to pee."

"Bathrooms just round the other side of the projector screen," Jimin tells you, nodding in its direction, 'cause even though it's after hours and he's far too heavily intoxicated, he can't help but be resourceful. That's his kryptonite. Can never switch off. "Just up the stairs."

It's not even like you need direction. Have been to this bar more times than you've had hot dinners.

Jungkook laughs. Thinks you're full of shit.

"Your tolerance is going down in your old age," he teases, as if you're not the same age. "Tactical chunders are for the weak."

You tell him to go fuck himself, and he laughs, all hearty and warm. "Gladly."

Their chatter continues without you. The blonde joins, and so does her friend. Someone's getting lucky tonight, and you're pretty sure it'll be all four of them. Thoughts you'd rather not think, honestly.

Teeny tiny is the bathroom. Cramped. A single cubicle is in working order and the hot tap has been broken for as long as you've been visiting this place. It definitely violates some health and safety codes, but who really gives enough of a shit to report it?

Holding your fingers beneath the already running tap, you check the temperature – as if the hot tap even works – and wait for a moment just to be sure. Icy cold, as always.

Lost in the sensation of the water, you forget for a moment why you're there.

While yeah, you could have a drink from the tap, you could have just gotten water at the bar.

Brain all fuzzy, you can't put your finger on it - until your phone vibrates in your back pocket.

And then suddenly, you remember exactly why you're in the bathroom.

11:37PM

D4m0cl3s: fuck, you look so good such a tease i'll be home as soon as i can be been thinking about you all night

11:58PM

i'm home let me know when you're free

00:16AM

you're taking your precious time tonight

00:21AM

what's the deal, huh? tryna get me all frustrated?

00:23AM

it's working

00:39AM

damn maybe that girl on my team was right maybe i should have just gone out and got laid tonight

01:05AM

really? even me being an asshole isn't working? is it compliments you want? you know i'll give you them

01:28AM

okay so i actually am a bit worried now, let me know when you're home safe, m'kay?

Cl3m3ntin3: you know what they say treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen

D4m0cl3s: FINALLY

Cl3m3ntin3: damn, you really are keen aren't you

D4m0cl3s: you were gone so long i was thinking about watching porn PORN you know how long it's been since i watched porn?

Cl3m3ntin3: if my calculations are correct, about 3 months?

D4m0cl3s: ... you're smart, clem but also so mean, my god got me all riled up and kept me waiting HOURS

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm sorry i'm here now and i'm thinking about you, too

D4m0cl3s: are you still out? at work?

Cl3m3ntin3: uh-huh out not at work, tho

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: fucking hell, clem your tits look so good come here wanna hold them

Cl3m3ntin3: give me an address and i'll get in a taxi right now we can keep the lights off, never have to see each other keep things anon but i gottaaaa feel your hands on my chest

D4m0cl3s: i wish i could wish i could just fuck you like we both know you deserved to be fucked

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm not stopping you

D4m0cl3s: we both know that isn't entirely true

Cl3m3ntin3: do we? give me an address doesn't have to be yours hotel sex is always fun

D4m0cl3s: i have a feeling all sex with you will be fun location is irrelevant

Cl3m3ntin3: well i'm currently in a bathroom stall hiding from my friends just so i can reply to you you reckon a bathroom stall would be fun?

D4m0cl3s: i reckon i love a challenge

Cl3m3ntin3: well i mean i could always send you my current location...

D4m0cl3s: tempting... but no.

Cl3m3ntin3: you're your own worst cock block, damocles boy

D4m0cl3s: it's called deprivation, baby yanno, kind of like what you did when you kept me waiting for hours gonna make you want me so badly it hurts

Cl3m3ntin3: i already do which is why you should come and put me out of my misery

D4m0cl3s: you're with your friends, you're fine ;) actually you drinking?

Cl3m3ntin3: a little

D4m0cl3s: a little?

Cl3m3ntin3: ...a lottle?

D4m0cl3s: the fact you just said lottle tells me all i need to know lmao you know the drill, clem

Cl3m3ntin3: :((((( noooooo

D4m0cl3s: stop pouting

Cl3m3ntin3: i can't :(((

D4m0cl3s: you can i meant what i said about no drunk messages only want you doing this when your head is clear

Cl3m3ntin3: my head is clear and my head thinks you should stop thinking with yours actually start thinking with your dick instead :)

D4m0cl3s: fine then let's see how clear your head is send me a video of you walking in a straight line

Cl3m3ntin3: you just wanna see my feet perv

D4m0cl3s: video

Cl3m3ntin3: fineeee, fucking fine!

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: oh yeah fuck that clem, you're pissed as a fart hahaha i'm not even sure you tried to walk in a straight line, you wobbly mess cute laugh tho get some water in you go back to your friends we can talk in the morning

Cl3m3ntin3: but i wanna talk now :( missed u today

D4m0cl3s: missed u too will miss you tonight but i'll wait

Cl3m3ntin3: :( whyyy do you have to be so good all the time :(

D4m0cl3s: because we both know that the second you send me a picture of your perfect little pussy, i won't be good

Cl3m3ntin3: now?

D4m0cl3s: no, baby in the morning, okay? drink some water.

Cl3m3ntin3: fine

D4m0cl3s: watch your attitude

Cl3m3ntin3: sighhh :((

D4m0cl3s: don't you'll make me feel bad just get yourself home and to bed and you can wake up to this tomorrow...

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

Cl3m3ntin3: BRB, sprinting home

D4m0cl3s: shut up idiot enjoy your night lemme know when ur home

Cl3m3ntin3: okay :( sweet dreams, damocles boy x

D4m0cl3s: speak soon, clemmie x

D4m0cl3s is offline

08:58AM

D4m0cl3s: morning clemmie

Cl3m3ntin3: hereee he is was wondering when you'd be up

D4m0cl3s: been up ages was wondering if today would finally be the day you message me first ;)

Cl3m3ntin3: why would i ever do that? we both know you can't bear to be away from this chat thread for more than a few hours

D4m0cl3s: your ego never fails to amaze me

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm a product of your creation, damocles boy you told me last week that i'm the only thing that gets you hard these days and you expect me not to get an ego?

D4m0cl3s: hope you know that when i actually get to fuck you, there's no room in my bed for your ego

Cl3m3ntin3: oh bite me you're gonna be putty in my hands

D4m0cl3s: i'm really gonna have to fuck the ego out of you, aren't i? get your little attitude problem in check and biting? you into that?

Cl3m3ntin3: i'd like to see you try like i said, this is aaaaall your fault if you can't control yourself over a message thread, how the fuck will you cope when I'm in front of you? and pls i'm gonna be the one fucking you it's cute that you think otherwise stupid <33 but cute :)

D4m0cl3s: i literally hate you

Cl3m3ntin3: you gonna hate me when im on my knees between your legs?

D4m0cl3s: yep

Cl3m3ntin3: gonna hate me when i run my tongue up and down that pretty cock of yours?

D4m0cl3s: yep

Cl3m3ntin3: gonna hate me when i wrap my lips around your tip? when i take your hard cock in my warm, wet mouth?

D4m0cl3s: yep and yep

Cl3m3ntin3: gonna hate me when i take you so deep my eyes start watering?

D4m0cl3s: uh-huh

Cl3m3ntin3: you're a tough bargainer :(

D4m0cl3s: just means im gonna fuck you like i hate you

Cl3m3ntin3: no you're not :) you're gonna be soooo shy so timid so scared of fucking up because of how badly you want me

D4m0cl3s: the way you're gonna eat your fucking words actually makes me laugh

Cl3m3ntin3: i wanna hear your laugh

D4m0cl3s: you can hear it when you finally fuck me

Cl3m3ntin3: i could have fucked you last night you said no <//3

D4m0cl3s: incorrect i said not when you're drunk

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm a good fuck when im drunk

D4m0cl3s: i'm pretty sure you're a good fuck regardless of your blood alcohol concentration i've seen how you fuck your toys i know you're a good fuck

Cl3m3ntin3: like this?

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: just like that fuck that's it, baby i like that toy what is it? glass? always looks so good when you sink it into your pussy so so wet, fucking hell

Cl3m3ntin3: glass, uh-huh you should get one for yourself

D4m0cl3s: myself?

Cl3m3ntin3: yourself

D4m0cl3s: i'm not sure that's my kinda thing, clemmie

Cl3m3ntin3: only one way to find out plus i remember how hard you came that time i got you to play with your ass a little

D4m0cl3s: shut up omg

Cl3m3ntin3: seeeeee, i'm totally gonna be the one doing the fucking :D

D4m0cl3s: you're not touching my ass

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm gonna eat it :)

D4m0cl3s: you're gonna do no such thing

Cl3m3ntin3: hehe okay whatever you say :D can't wait to say i told you so when you're face down ass up whining about how good my tongue feels :D

D4m0cl3s: and this is exactly why you need the ego fucked out of you never gonna happen

Cl3m3ntin3: you'll be begging for it one day but fineeeee, if u say so tell me how you'd do it, then? how would you fuck the ego (that you gave me!!!) outta me? tell me how you'd ruin me, damocles boy

D4m0cl3s: show me your pussy first let me look at how wet you are right now

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: god, look at you if this is how wet you get thinking about eating my ass... we can put it on the maybe list but you'd be on your back, like you are now exactly like that, perfect and spread for me i'd start with my fingers

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

these two i'll push them into you so slowly that you'll be begging for more you'll be all whiney (so no change to normal lmao) but i'll curl them a little, just like you said you like it, and use my thumb to toy with your clit

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: fuck i love it when you send videos i could watch that forever literal cinema the way your pussy leaks for me, christ i wouldn't be able to watch your pussy leak like that without licking it up i'd keep my thumb on your clit, gently circling it as my tongue began to toy with your entrance you'd be so leaky on my tongue wouldn't you? so so fuckin' wet for me

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

it's mutual, just so you know

Cl3m3ntin3: god i fucking love it when your tip gets all wet like that you are soooooo needy you wanna fuck me soooooo bad he he i stay winning!!!

D4m0cl3s: CLEM. CONTROL. YOUR. EGO!!

Cl3m3ntin3: FUCK. IT. OUT. OF. ME!!!!

D4m0cl3s: your ego is so big i think i'll just have to fuck you for hours at this point :/

Cl3m3ntin3: oh no :( such a shame !!! :(

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: just imagine this stretching your tight little pussy open my cock is so much bigger than that dildo

Cl3m3ntin3: can't wait to feel you inside me i know it's gonna hurt but in like... the best possible way you're so big and thick such a nice cock ♡♡

D4m0cl3s: i'll go slow with you baby ease you into it

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

Cl3m3ntin3: you've got me soooo wet i think it'll be easy to push into me fill me up

D4m0cl3s: my needy girl look at you my cock belongs inside you your pussy already belongs to me

Cl3m3ntin3: come and claim it

D4m0cl3s: you're making it harder and harder to say no fuck im close

Cl3m3ntin3: same i wanna watch you cum

D4m0cl3s: fuck it i'll call? we can finish together?

Cl3m3ntin3: please

Incoming call from D4m0cl3s Accept | Decline (03 minutes : 14 seconds)

Call ended.

Cl3m3ntin3: nice work

D4m0cl3s: pleasure doing business

Cl3m3ntin3: as always i totally heard that little giggle tho ;)

D4m0cl3s: fuck off what giggle

Cl3m3ntin3: the one you did after you came all over your tummy :)♡♡

D4m0cl3s: never giggled in my life ever

Cl3m3ntin3: liar x

D4m0cl3s: i only laughed cause you did too >:(

Cl3m3ntin3: and i only laughed cause of how hard you made me cum you've got a gift, damocles boy

D4m0cl3s: and you've got the nicest pussy i've ever seen in my whole entire life

Cl3m3ntin3: you have to use a dating app to get your rocks off deffo a virgin :/ never seen a pussy before in your life :/ not much competition to compare me to, is there? :/

D4m0cl3s: i really do mean it when i say i hate you :) x

Cl3m3ntin3: i know you do babe

D4m0cl3s: wish we were never matched, actually

Cl3m3ntin3: same might just block you actually

D4m0cl3s: PLEASE put me out of my misery

Cl3m3ntin3: okay :D bye forever :D

D4m0cl3s: wait no don't :(

Cl3m3ntin3: you're a bloody seesaw boy always up and down either hate me or love me make up your mind !!

D4m0cl3s: lmao you've no idea but where's the fun in that? i like keeping you on your toes

Cl3m3ntin3: true i gotta run tho got a date with a real boy seeyaaaa x

D4m0cl3s: wooooah wait wait a date?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah with someone in like.. real life... problem?

D4m0cl3s: no problem just surprised that's all

Cl3m3ntin3: that someone would want to date me?

D4m0cl3s: no that you'd want to date someone else

Cl3m3ntin3: breaking news: girl in her early twenties wants more than nudes from a stranger on the internet

D4m0cl3s: fair enough probably shouldn't continue this, then a heads up would have been nice

Cl3m3ntin3: you wanna stop?

D4m0cl3s: no no, i really don't, clem but you're right you do deserve more

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah i do

D4m0cl3s: i actually hate this wtf like i know you can do what you like and i can do what i like but i thought we had something good going?

Cl3m3ntin3: we do thank god i'm just lying about a date for attention :) <3

D4m0cl3s: what the fuck clem

Cl3m3ntin3: made you shit your pants didn't i

D4m0cl3s: CLEM.

Cl3m3ntin3: DAMOCLES BOY.

D4m0cl3s: so you're not going on a date?

Cl3m3ntin3: no you idiot you think i have enough time to be meeting new people when i spend all my free time sending you nudes? was just fucking with you wanted to see if you cared

D4m0cl3s: you could have just asked

Cl3m3ntin3: you'd have told me you hate me

D4m0cl3s: BECAUSE I DO you're actually mental

Cl3m3ntin3: he he u luv it

D4m0cl3s: i don't

Cl3m3ntin3: do basically started crying when you thought someone else might take your place

D4m0cl3s: you didn't even give me a chance to clean myself up you fucking menace !! just made me cum and then did a 180 what did you expect me to do?! you know how sad my dick looks right now?

Cl3m3ntin3: no show me

D4m0cl3s: get fucked you little cretin

Cl3m3ntin3: let me see your sad cock :(

D4m0cl3s: you're never seeing it again you don't deserve it after that little stunt

Cl3m3ntin3: so... ill see it tonight?

D4m0cl3s: .... .......... ............... probably now fuck off i've got a day to get on with might even go on a date

Cl3m3ntin3: no you won't :D

D4m0cl3s: i hate you x

Cl3m3ntin3: denial x

D4m0cl3s is offline

"Jesus Christ," you say, tone full of surprise when you walk into your living room. It's just gone midday, and you've finally risen from your hangover pit of despair.

Following the conversation with your Damocles boy, you had decided a nap was in order, but it only served to make your headache even worse. Turns out, the orgasm had just been a temporary solution. You need paracetemol, and you need it now.

"Jimin, actually," an equally hungover mess groans from your sofa. He's bundled in blankets, a pouty chin hooked over the armrest to look at you with puppy dog eyes. His expression screams 'water pls'.

"And Jungkook," a second voice whines from behind the sofa. A hand rises from the direction of the voice, covered in thick black inkings, before falling with a thud.

Your lips hang ajar as you look at them both, far more confused than you should be. When you glance over to the kitchen counter, you're greeted with the sight of what must have been a rager. There are bottles everywhere - mainly soju and beer - and there's a sticky sheen pooling around their bases. A packet of crisps is open on the hob, but most of the actual crisps are scattered on the floor. You're willing to bet good money on Jungkook being responsible for those.

"The fuck happened last night?" You ask, though you're able to pick up enough context clues from the photobooth pictures that are on your fridge door. They're stuck in place with washi tape, of which you don't remember buying.

"You didn't buy it," Jungkook says when you ask about it. "Stole it from the photobooth place. Little klepto."

"Brilliant," you grimace. The last thing you need is a scandal going around about Kim Seokjin's troublesome younger sister and her thieving ways. The media love a scandal, and Jin has been able to avoid them for the most part. "Joon and Jin?"

"Headed home before us," Jimin tells you. "Really don't remember a thing, do you?"

The last thing you remember is messaging your Damocles boy in the bathroom stall. You don't even really remember how the conversation ended. The rest of the night? Never happened, in your mind.

Still reeling, the day wastes away from you all.

It's spent huddled up on your sofa, Jungkook's Spotify connected to your speaker, as you try and decipher exactly what happened the night before. It's like you're the cast of a shitty Hollywood movie from 10 years ago - nothing makes sense, but it also kind of all does. Jungkook's got the least patchy memories. Remembers how you got home, at least.

There's only one thing he doesn't mention - partially because it happened this morning, not last night, but also because he wants to spare your dignity.

He's a light sleeper. Especially the mornings after a few too many drinks. As soon as the alcohol flushes his body, he has to get up, get water, go to the bathroom. Set his world to rights. This morning had been no exception.

Just a shame he happened to wake a mere matter of moments before your Damocles boy had called you.

No words had been spoken, no conversation took place - but with your phone angled awkwardly for prime shots of your most intimate areas, you had moaned a little louder than usual to make sure the mic picked it up.

And so Jungkook had heard it all - and had recognised the click of a Hush call coming to an end. He's had more than enough himself to know the tone by now.

Watching on as you laugh with Jimin about something nonsensical, mid-afternoon sun pouring through the cracks in your curtains, Jungkook is curious.

You don't notice the way he's studying you, nibbling on his lip ring as he does so.

The running joke between the pair of you about dating to piss off Jin has always been exactly that - a joke - but the idea of you dating someone else in the industry makes him feel a little... off.

He doesn't question it, though. Doesn't really know what to make of it. Doesn't like it, mind you.

As the evening begins to draw in, Jimin leaves first, with Jungkook set to follow suit half an hour later. He tells you he'll leave at 6, but he's still on your sofa when it hits 7:05PM.

"There's something about you lately," he says, scheming, dark eyes narrow. You narrow yours back right back.

"How so?"

"Dunno," he smiles. He wants to ask who you're fucking about with, but it seems too forward. You're close, and have been for years, but not as close as you used to be. His fault, really. He's the one who ditched you when he started dating some songwriter a few years back. "You just seem... preoccupied. What's going on with you, fizz?"

The nickname is so natural that it rolls off Jungkook's tongue as if he hadn't stopped calling you it around the same time he got that girlfriend. She didn't last long, but the slight chill to your friendship had.

"Haven't heard that in a while," you smile right back, as you take a sip on the fizzy orangade that you adore so much it had become a bloody nickname.

"Still suits you," he says, and he's right. Fizzy by name, fizzy by nature. "So you gonna tell me?"

You're not really sure what he wants you to say, so just shrug. "I'm fine, buddy. Are you okay?"

"I'm cool," he nods, aware of the fact you definitely don't want to talk about whatever it is going on with you - so he changes topic. "Nervous about tour, if I'm being honest. You're coming, right? Been contracted on?"

"Uh-huh," you nod. "For the European leg, at least. They haven't sent out contracts yet for the US leg."

"You'll be on it," he says with absolute certainty. He can't see any reason why you wouldn't be. They all like having you around. It's nice having a familiar face backstage. Nice having a friend.

"Hopefully," you agree, very aware that your job is incredibly sought after. You're not the only nepotism baby around, and know that the US leg will be a lot more... political, as it were. Record label execs will all be fighting for attention from the boys, and that could mean putting overqualified suits in job positions like yours, just for a little bit of Scout exposure.

"You really think they're gonna kick you off the roster?" he smiles, nudging you with his foot from across the sofa. "We'd all riot. Even Yoongi."

Now that is something you doubt.

"He'd probably be leading the counter-riot to have me kicked off," you roll your eyes.

"He's just pissy that he can't be annoyed with you," Jungkook laughs. "He wants to hate how you got hired, but he knows you're good at what you do. Knows that you'd have got the job with or without your bloodline."

"Or," you counter. "He really does just hate me."

Jungkook shakes his head. He's noticed Yoongi's coldness recently, too. Puts it down to stress from touring so intensely. Things were definitely different than they used to be - not necessarily any better, nor worse. Just different.

"It's understandable," Jungkook taunts you. "You are pretty unbearable."

He catches your foot as you go to kick him, surprised by how strong your legs actually are - but you're no match for his upper body strength. Not even when you try and use your other leg, as well.

"Some boys actually enjoy my company," you protest, still struggling a little.

"Uh-huh," Jungkook nods, biting down on his bottom lip. His eyes are sparkling in the same way they did after last night's concert. He's just messing, flirting with you for the fun of it, but he knows he shouldn't. Knows he's only doing it cause he knows you're talking to someone else. He's lost your affections before, and while you're just friends, he still doesn't like the idea of it happening again. He likes being number one. Likes being top of the food chain. "Sure they do."

He thinks he has the upper hand here, but he hasn't realised you've stopped fighting against his grip. You're gentle in the way you move your legs, lowering them just a little until they're on his lap. He lets them be. Pays no notice to the fact he's not entirely soft beneath his sweats.

You ignore it, too. Kind of. Press down a little, just to let him know you know. He doesn't react. Just cocks one of his brows, as if to say, 'so?'

And then he figures that throwing caution to the wind is the best option here. He doesn't want to let things get out of hand, and he's sure you don't either.

"So are you gonna tell me about your Hush boy now or later?"

The way your jaw drops is almost comical. The pressure of your feet eases, and Jungkook is sad to lose it, but he doesn't resist as you pull your legs up to your chest in panic. He's still got that cocksure grin on his face, amused by your reaction.

"What?" He smirks, reclining back into the corner of the sofa. His legs spread a little, and the bulge is even more noticeable. He's doing it to fuck with you, now. You don't even look in its direction, but he still has the nerve to say, "Eyes up here, fizz."

"My eyes are up," you almost gasp. "And so are you, apparently."

Jungkook knocks his head to the side, and scrunches his nose a little. Being called out for it makes him a little awkward, even when he's the most confident guy you've ever known.

"I'm just hungover-"

"Yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes, before reciting the same bullshit he always says. "I'm always more horny when I'm hungover."

The way you say it is so whiney that Jungkook can't help but laugh. "I don't sound like that you prick - and stop deflecting. I heard you this morning. Sounds like I'm not the only one who suffers from horny hangovers."

It's about now that your face blossoms with the most delightful shade of red. Your cheeks are hot, and Jungkook can see how mortified you are. He finds it fucking hilarious.

"You didn't."

"Oh," he sings. "But I did."

"I'm gonna throw up," you grimace. Flirting with Jungkook is all well and good, but the idea of him hearing you get yourself off is shameful. Truly horrific.

"You didn't remember that me and Jimin had crashed here, did you?" He teases, knowing that you'd have never done it had you known they were in the next room over - or maybe you would have done. You just would have been a little more discreet.

"Didn't have a clue," you confirm, before burying your head in a sofa cushion. This is probably the most tragic conversation you've ever had with Jungkook.

He just laughs. Finds it hilarious.

"You didn't hear anything," you tell him. "Forget it ever happened."

"Was kinda hot," he shrugs - but fails to tell you that his current semi isn't the first time he's been hard in your apartment today. "Doesn't answer my question, though. Who's your Hush guy?"

Your face screws up like a paper napkin. This is not a conversation you want to be having, nor one you thought you'd be having a few minutes ago when your feet were on his cock.

In fact, your eyes are still closed, face all cute and regretful when you say, "How the fuck am I supposed to know? Doesn't that defeat the object of Hush?"

Jungkook laughs. "Give over. Who is he?"

"I'm being serious," you say, and notice the way Jungkook's smile shifts. He looks a little concerned, now, brows hard. "I don't know."

"Fizz," he says, too shocked to address you by anything but a dumb nickname. His brows are furrowed, and it's his jaw gaping now, not yours. "How do you not know?"

And now you're confused, because you thought that anonymity was the whole point of Hush.

"We just... never disclosed it, I guess?"

"So, what?" Jungkook's tone changes. It sounds like he's accusing you now, berating you a little. You both look as bewildered as one another. "You just matched with some dude this morning and got straight to it?"

That's the only plausibility, Jungkook thinks.

He knows Hush, knows what it's like, but knows that the stakes are too high to keep the anon act up. If he isn't comfortable enough to share his identity within a day or two, he unmatches.

Sure, he's gotten himself in pretty risky conversations straight off the bat before, and has had his fair share of casual encounters thanks to the app - but he doesn't love the idea of you doing it, too. It's because he knows that he doesn't care for the girls he uses in those situations, and dislikes the idea of someone else using you like that.

"No?" You reply, a little offended. "We've been talking for like... a few months?"

Jungkook almost shrieks. "A few months?! And you don't know who he is?!"

You stay silent for a moment. You're reflecting his confusion back at him. He can't understand for the life of him why you don't see a problem with this - but you haven't worked your way through the Hush circles like he has. Your Damocles boy has been the only person you've ever given the time of day on there.

"That's the whole point?" You say, but it's really a question because you can't understand why he's so horrified.

"He could be anyone," Jungkook whispers, as if he's trying to keep your secret for you. "Anyone!"

"He's alright," you promise. "He's nice."

"You don't even know his name!"

"I'm pretty sure you can only name a handful of the girls you've fucked in the last couple of years," you scoff at his hypocrisy.

Jungkook got eyes like a hopeless romantic, all shiny and bright. People don't seem to realise such appeal affords him endless opportunities for casual encounters - of which he thinks it would be rude to turn down. Or at least that's what he tells you.

Realistically, you know he just likes fucking about.

"That's not the point here, fizz, and you know it," he scolds.

"Who I may or may not send nudes to is really none of your concern, Jungkook," you tell him.

"I know that," he insists. "But if this has been going on for months..."

"Then it's still none of your concern."

He holds up his hands, eyes wide. He's waving a white flag, even if he thinks you're a walking, talking red one. "I'm not attacking you, here. I just think you need to be careful."

"I'm fine," you tell him softly, and he's pleased when you smile at him in that fond way he's so used to. It feels a lot safer than the confusion on your face a moment ago. You know his concern comes from a good place. "It's just what works for us. It's as much my choice as it is his."

Jungkook nods, and lets it go, but not before warning you, "I'm not the only one of the guys on there. Tae and Jin, we both know they're not, but the rest of them? I dread to think of what Jin would do if he found out Joon was phone fucking his little sister."

You laugh now. Really laugh.

"I'm not kidding!" Jungkook protests.

"I'd recognise any of you in an instant," you tell him, and you really believe it.

You have no doubt in your mind that you'd be able to sense any of them off from miles away. They're too familiar.

"I fucking hope so," he laughs, and while you're laughing too, you feel a little uneasy.

Maybe he has a point. Maybe you do need to dig a little deeper.

But as Jungkook leaves, and you check your phone only to find a new message waiting from your Damocles boy, you can't help but feel a little out of your depth already.

21:43PM

D4m0cl3s: whyyyy am i so obsessed with u

22:10PM

leaving me on read? that's a new one (plus will probably only make me a little more obsessed (something about toxic girls that just really gets to me))

22:32PM

i lied i don't like toxic girls pls don't ignore me clem :(

Cl3m3ntin3: hey sorry was just a little busy

D4m0cl3s: it's cool you okay?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah yeah, im all good you?

D4m0cl3s: im okay you seem a little... i dunno. off?

Cl3m3ntin3: sorry i'm fine really

D4m0cl3s: yanno, you say one thing but the way you're writing sends a whole entire different message it's v confusing, clem

Cl3m3ntin3: sorry i don't mean to be im all good, honest

D4m0cl3s: stop saying sorry

22:54PM

clem whats up you're never like this, you got me worried

Cl3m3ntin3: you sat at home worrying over a girl you can't even imagine?

D4m0cl3s: wdym?

Cl3m3ntin3: it's not like you can picture me not like you can think of my face so what are you thinking about when you're worrying? some pixels? your phone?

D4m0cl3s: right. where has all this come from? please know my face is very confused right now so whatever you imagine when you think of me - 'cause let's remember that you don't have a fuckin' clue what i look like either - add a little confusion to it that should do the job.

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm gonna add a little anger to it 'cause you seem pissed off

D4m0cl3s: well, yeah? i kind of am i don't get why you're, like, attacking me? like im the only one keeping a secret? it's you and me both, clem.

00:06AM

you can't just ignore me whenever i say something you don't like

Cl3m3ntin3: no? i think i can. goes with the territory of you not knowing who the fuck i am. no repercussions.

D4m0cl3s: where the fuck has all this come from? were we not good this morning?

00:13AM

and there you go again, leaving me on read.

Cl3m3ntin3: don't act like you actually give a fuck been 3 months if you cared, surely i'd know who you are by now?

D4m0cl3s: pot, kettle, black, clem it's a two-way street and fuck you if i didn't care, i'd just be leaving your shitty attitude on read, too.

Cl3m3ntin3: how can you care about someone you don't know? really? how can you?

D4m0cl3s: are you telling me you don't care about me?

00:17AM

if this is you leaving me on read again then you can go fuck yourself. like literally just unmatch me.

Cl3m3ntin3: im not leaving you on read im trying to figure out what the fuck i want to say just give me a moment, okay?

D4m0cl3s: m'kay.

Cl3m3ntin3: i care that's, like the most important thing here. i really care. i just i had someone irl questioning me about you today and it kind of left me stumped. why don't you want to know who i am?

D4m0cl3s: i kinda hate that an outsider has swayed your opinion on me so much don't get me wrong, i love that your friends care about you just hate that it makes you think i don't

Cl3m3ntin3: that's not an answer

D4m0cl3s: patience is a virtue, clem i was getting there my line of work... i cant commit to anything. it isn't fair. it isn't fair to let someone get invested in me. the moment you know who i am, everything changes it's far easier for you to be detached if i'm just a few pixels if this isn't physical

Cl3m3ntin3: you've spent 3 months getting yourself off to me and me alone that's commitment, isn't it?

D4m0cl3s: that's conditioning, clem you've made everything else so incredibly boring you're the only thing that excites me

Cl3m3ntin3: and yet...

D4m0cl3s: and yet. clem, we both know the second this becomes more than what it already is, there's no taking it back. i don't wanna lose this don't wanna lose you.

Cl3m3ntin3: i think it's really sad that you think being honest will result in losing me

D4m0cl3s: just how the cookie crumbles, clem i've seen it happen with my friends you were right when you said you deserve more than dick pics from some rando on the internet but even if you knew who i was, that's all i'd be able to give you i like you too much to cope with knowing how disappointed you'd be by the outcome of my grand reveal a few pixels can only disappoint you so much a real, tangible human? so much more.

Cl3m3ntin3: just a rando on the internet who sends me dick pics and yet you've got me feeling all kinds of fucked up

D4m0cl3s: it's mutual, if it helps really did mean it when i said i was obsessed with u earlier and for the record i don't really imagine a person when i think of you more of like.. i dunno. an aura? i guess. peachy. orange. a little green. very clementine inspired maybe that's it maybe i imagine clementines my teeny tiny clementine

Cl3m3ntin3: you make my heart hurt

D4m0cl3s: you make my heart hurt, too

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm sorry for... like going off at you

D4m0cl3s: it's cool kind of nice to see this side of you, i guess ur ego isn't always big shock

Cl3m3ntin3: oh no it is this is all the result of a bruised ego was very offended that you didn't wanna know i am i'll have you know one of my friends got a semi just looking at me earlier and yet the guy who makes me cum doesn't even wanna know me <///333

D4m0cl3s: firstly lets stop with this nonsense, okay? i would kill to know who you are and as soon as we're both in situations where it's fair i'm booking you a taxi and routing it straight for my place also fuck ur friend (not literally pls)

Cl3m3ntin3: oh? not gonna wine and dine me first? (i wont)

D4m0cl3s: absolutely not first thing im doing is checking to see if your head can fit through doors, you egomaniac

Cl3m3ntin3: and the second thing?

D4m0cl3s: fucking the rest of that ego out of you ♡♡

Cl3m3ntin3: and they say romance is dead

D4m0cl3s: im not the most romantic of guys

Cl3m3ntin3: i'll pretend im shocked

D4m0cl3s: are we good, clem?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah we're good im sorry for getting so in my head about things don't even know why i got so pissed about you not being able to imagine me when i literally can't imagine you either lmao

D4m0cl3s: what do you think of when you think of me?

Cl3m3ntin3: honestly?

D4m0cl3s: honestly...

Cl3m3ntin3: your cock lmao i wish i could say something cute like your aura, but i'd simply be lying

D4m0cl3s: for fucks sake haha

Cl3m3ntin3: good cock, at least great cock, some would say

D4m0cl3s: some?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah not me i'd say average :)

D4m0cl3s: average? AVERAGE?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah :D

D4m0cl3s: i... do you need reminding or something?

Cl3m3ntin3: no? it's average :) !

D4m0cl3s: the man was too stunned to speak

Cl3m3ntin3: maybe i do need reminding then? could have sworn it was average? maybe even a little smaller?

D4m0cl3s: you are rubbing salt in a wound, miss teeny tiny clementine i've never been more offended

Cl3m3ntin3: hmm... prove me wrong?

D4m0cl3s: i want it on record that i hate you

Cl3m3ntin3: sure you do, baby

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: does this help?

Cl3m3ntin3: a little? not much, though maybe it would help if I had some more context? maybe you should play with it for me a little bit?

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: like this?

Cl3m3ntin3: ooo that's a little better only a little, though maybe more?

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: what about now?

Cl3m3ntin3: maybe you should play with your balls a little? for like... spacial awareness?

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

yeah, that helps that really helps

D4m0cl3s: still average? or does it look like we both know it does?

Cl3m3ntin3: how do we both know it looks?

D4m0cl3s: like it would ruin your tight little cunt

Cl3m3ntin3: damn, damocles you're really coming for me now, aren't you? what happened to my pretty little pussy you love so much? it's cunt now?

D4m0cl3s: you don't want me playing nice right now you wouldn't be telling me i'm below average if you did you want me fucking you like i have a point to prove

Cl3m3ntin3: and what point would that be?

D4m0cl3s: that once i finally get to fuck your (pretty, perfect, fucking incredible) cunt, it's mine mine, and no one else's especially not that friend of yours who got hard looking at you

Cl3m3ntin3: i spy with my little eye something that begins with J (it ends in 'ealousy', suga) sugar** lmao typo

D4m0cl3s: suga on the brain? you a scouts fan?

Cl3m3ntin3: they're fine not what i want to be thinking of right now, tho

D4m0cl3s: my bad well, no, your bad actually who's your favourite member?

Cl3m3ntin3: shuuuuush time and place, babe also i have an idea

D4m0cl3s: go on?

Cl3m3ntin3: you got a bottle close by?

D4m0cl3s: ermmm like water bottle?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah

D4m0cl3s: i've a chilsung?

Cl3m3ntin3: perfect me too wanna see your hand wrapped around it

D4m0cl3s: .... i have a cock right here and hard for you .... and you wanna see my hand around a bottle?

Cl3m3ntin3: just do it baby

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

oh my fucking god

D4m0cl3s: what?

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

oh holy shit why is your hand so small it doesn't even get around the bottle?????!! i'd literally like... eclipse it

Cl3m3ntin3: uh huh now wrap your hand around your cock you know the size difference now you know exactly what it'd look like

D4m0cl3s: god i'm gonna fucking destroy you arent i

Cl3m3ntin3: uh huh i think so jesus christ i haven't even been touching myself and look at the state of me

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

you did this this is all you

D4m0cl3s: all mine i'm never gonna share you god i gotta fuck you

Cl3m3ntin3: we've literally just had a full entire fuck off conversation as to why you cant

D4m0cl3s: im a boy im stupid i cant be trusted to make such decisions let me fuck you please

Cl3m3ntin3: no, baby you know you can't you gotta be patient

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

think of how well you'll be rewarded

D4m0cl3s: no i gotta fuck you i need to i think i might die if i can't

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

so hard that death is the only option

Cl3m3ntin3: the way you hold it around the base always gets me so fucked up all i can think about is the fact it will look just like that when you guide it into me

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

reckon im wet enough for you?

D4m0cl3s: i think you're wet enough that i'll never need to drink water again so fucking hot literally how the fuck do you even get that wet

Cl3m3ntin3: wish i could tell you truth is you're the only one who's ever got me like that

D4m0cl3s: fuck don't say shit like that, clem im too close

Cl3m3ntin3: you can cum, baby i wanna see it

D4m0cl3s: can i call? i wanna watch you too

Cl3m3ntin3: yes please pretty please

D4m0cl3s: always so good for me, clem ain't no fuckin' way im ever losing this

Cl3m3ntin3: just call me you sentimental prick ;)

Incoming call from D4m0cl3s Accept | Decline (01 minute : 37 seconds) Call ended.

Cl3m3ntin3: im so furious that was a call and not a video you fucking whined WHINED jesus i might cum again just thinking about it

D4m0cl3s: and they say men are easy

Cl3m3ntin3: fuck you, you know you're hot

D4m0cl3s: do i?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah yeah you fucking do give me all this shit for my ego, but jesus christ you know exactly what you do to me

D4m0cl3s: and you know it's mutual the whine... yeah that wasn't intentional you're just??? unreal????

Cl3m3ntin3: probably a good idea that we don't ever fuck i think i'd stop being able to function like a useful member of society would just want to spend all day in bed with you

D4m0cl3s: you say that as we don't spend a fair amount of our free time doing exactly that just... not together but still together kinda i guess? does that make sense?

Cl3m3ntin3: it makes sense i'm sorry about earlier, still

D4m0cl3s: im sorry, too i know that this isn't like... conventional

Cl3m3ntin3: conventional is boring im gonna go get a shower quickly talk later?

D4m0cl3s: talk later miss u already x

D4m0cl3s is offline

BIG HIT ENT OFFICES Yongsan-gu, Seoul

"You can stop avoiding me, yanno," Jungkook mumbles as he comes to stand beside you.

The grey corridors of Big Hit all look the same, but this one's a little different. It's The Scouts stomping ground; space reluctantly given to them after the success of the last album. Told management they needed studios to work in underdisturbed. Three of them. Tae and Jin didn't care for one - are happy doing their own shit in the dingy old practise room in the basement - but Yoongi, Namjoon and Jungkook all threw tantrums.

Well, less-so trantrums and more-so well put together business plans an ROI graphs for some of the senior bosses. Hoseok was in charge of overseeing it all, and blew far too much budget on it - something of which has bitten them all in the arse, and keeps them tied to their label for longer, but they have freedoms, at least. More than most bands in their field. Oppotunities. Visibility.

At the far end of the corridor, closest to the snack machine, is Jungkook's studio.

There's silence as you watch the packet of chips you just chose drop into the vending chute, with little care for the fact he sounds stroppy. Though you don't look at him, you know he's pouting. Can hear it in his voice.

It's been a few days since he left your apartment and you haven't really spoken since. It's not like it's totally uncommon for you to go a while without chatting, but you are aware that you left a couple memes sent to you on read.

You weren't trying to be a bitch, he just sent them at bad times, and you forgot to reply. Seems as if your lack of consideration has left him overthinking, and you feel a little bad.

You crouch, knees cracking as you do, stuffing your arm into the machine and retrieving your purchases - plural. A packet of chips for you, and banana milk for him. He narrows his eyes as you hold it towards him. You're still crouched, eyes a little wide but impatient.

"Take it or I'll drink it myself, you big baby."

He wants to resist, but he can't. Something just so tempting about banana milk. Gets him every time.

"Was coming to see you, actually," you say as you return to your full posture, knocking your head to the side to indicate you want to walk. He follows your lead like he always does. It explains the banana milk, at least, and makes him feel a little easier. "Just been busy, haven't been avoiding you. Stupid. Anyways, had a meeting today about the next run of shows so thought I'd pop up and say hi before I left."

He hums to let you know he's listening, encouraging you to keep on talking as he reaches the door to his studio. It's pin-protected, so you wait till he's typed in the code to continue - though realistically, you both know you could have just typed it in yourself.

"How'd it go?" He asks, both out of politeness and general curiosity. He's always keen to hear about your life; what's going on with it.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, entering first and taking a seat in his favourite desk chair as soon as you're inside. You drape your overshirt across the back of it, and ignore the way Jungkook's eyes briefly flitter towards your chest. His gaze doesn't linger, so you don't bother teasing him about it. "All good. Just going over some health and safety stuff."

He pops his banana milk down on the desk. Frowns. Sighs. "Up."

Every single time. Him and his bloody chair.

"But there's another chair right there!" You protest, knowing full well you're in Jungkook's ridiculously overpriced gaming chair, which really has no business being in a music studio - but dear lord if it isn't the comfiest thing you've ever sat on.

"Exactly!" He wails in return. "You, there. Me, here."

The way he gestures his hands makes him look like a flight attendant, all poised and direct, but you don't budge.

"Mhmm-mm," you mumble, trying to eat a chip as Jungkook tugs on your arm. "Me, here. You there!"

"You're gonna get crumbs all over it," he says with such a pout that you can't help but laugh. You know he's got a mini vacuum in his desk drawer precisely for times like these. You know because you're the one who bought it, after the fifth time you'd argued over something as trivial as a few crumbs.

"I won't," you pout right back, then promise, "I'll wipe my fingers."

He's about to say something back, before he realises that you are wiping your fingers - right along the hem of his shirt.

"For fucks sake, you little shit," he moans, wrapping his arm around your head to get you in a headlock. Should have just done this earlier, he thinks. The pair of you struggle for a moment, but he's too bloody strong. You squeal as he drags you off the chair and plonks you down in the spare seat. "Much better."

"You suck," you huff as you kick out at him, but miss as he sits himself down and rolls away with a cheeky little grin on his face.

He's about to reply all rather childishly, but a knock at his door breaks the contact of his eyes on yours.

You're thankful for the interruption. You don't like the way it feels when you look at Jungkook these days. It's a bit... too much.

"Who is it?" Jungkook calls, the frosted glass hiding the intruder, but not really. Even you can make out who it is.

"Yoongi," he calls through, to which Jungkook tells him that he can let himself in. He's one of the chosen few; the secret circle. In all reality, every single one of the boys knows Jungkook's passwords, but he tells himself otherwise. Somehow likes the idea of exclusivity.

"Hey, I- oh," Yoongi begins as he enters the room, stopping as he realises you're there. He's dressed down, a pair of black slacks and a white shirt a fair few sizes too large draped over his shoulders.

Dressed quite a lot like you, actually, though your slacks are fitted and high-waisted, and the white shirt you're in is tight. It clings to your skin, and now that your overshirt is hooked over the back of Jungkook's chair, there's not much hiding your silhouette.

They've both seen you in far less - there's a mutual agreement to never speak of your twenty-third birthday party and the bath debacle - but it's not often you're in anything that doesn't hide you up a little. It's just professionalism, and considering you're mostly around them at work, it makes sense.

But your shirt had ridden up a little from the struggle with Jungkook, and your midriff is distracting for Yoongi, apparently. He stays silent. Looks at you. Looks at Jungkook. Looks at your shirt, which is crumpled by Jungkook. Looks at the mess your hair is in following the headlock. Is unaware of the headlock ever taking place. Adds 2 and 2 and gets 5.

"Didn't realise you had company," Yoongi musters. "My bad."

"Don't mind me," you smile. "I can get gone, if you need time with Jungkook?"

"No, no," Yoongi insists, before turning to focus on Jungkook. The way he cuts the conversation short with you weighs on you. You and Yoongi had never been close, not in the same way you were with Jungkook, but there was a time when you would have been invited along with whatever he needed Jungkook for. Hasn't been that way for a while now, but it still makes you sad. "Just running through that demo you sent over, I've got some notes. I'll be in the studio all evening, so just come by whenever you're... done."

It dawns on you pretty quickly that Yoongi's jumping to conclusions. Your cheeks begin to flame, and you have to stop yourself from awkwardly laughing.

"I'm actually heading off now," you mumble, getting to your feet. The last thing you need is yet another thing for Yoongi to hold against you.

You like to tell yourself it's the whole nepotism thing - and honestly, it's an undeniable part of his disdain for you lately.

But you also know it's something more.

See, there are two things you and Yoongi will never speak of.

The first is your twenty-third birthday party, and the bath debacle that came with it. It was harmless, and he wasn't the only one there - Jimin and Jungkook played their part too - but it's an avoided topic to preserve your dignity more than anything else.

The second thing you will never discuss is the night that never was. The one you both agreed never happened.

When he looks at you, you know he's thinking about it.

But it's your best-kept secret, and you'd quite like to keep it that way, so you make your excuses and leave. Jungkook says bye, and that he'll text later. Yoongi doesn't even really look at you as you leave.

There's a momentum to your heartbeat as you leave the building, your staff pass beeping like a hospital monitor as you go through security. There's a buzz in your back pocket as soon as you're through the doors - not the kind you long for from your Damocles boy, but a just regular kakaotalk message.

When you pull up your phone and see his name, you're surprised, but also a little concerned. You wait until you're at the bus stop to check his messages - and when you do, you wish you never did.

Yoongi (personal): I've said the same to Jungkook as I'm gonna say to you. Think about it from Jin's perspective.

You can't help but laugh at his sheer audacity. Of all people, Yoongi has absolutely no right to berate you, nor your choices. He's completely missed the mark of the relationship between you and Jungkook - and he's really in no place to judge. No place at all.

And so you tell him as such.

You: Not really sure what you're getting at But tell me, Yoongi, did you think about it from Jin's perspective?

You know better than to mention the night that never was. Neither of you have spoken about it for months - a full year, almost - but he deserves to think about it if he's going to be a prick. Deserves to remember. Deserves to have it linger.

You watch as your messages are marked as 'read', and then you mute your notifications from him. How he thinks he has any right to police what you do - and who you do it with - infuriates you. Why waste your time, though? He's been nothing but an absolute arse to you over the past couple of months. Nothing will change it.

The frustration in your mind has you wanting to watch the world roll by. You let the bus you usually board roll on by, opting for the longer route instead. It won't come for another few minutes, but it's not so bad out today. The weather is bearable.

It's as you're waiting - a face of thunder and scowl foul enough to rival even Yoongi's on a bad day - that your phone buzzes. The corner of your lips curl. Cheeks turn pink. It vibrates again. And a third time.

So even though you mentally scold yourself for not waiting until you get home, you find yourself unlocking your phone and heading to Hush.

And sure enough, there he is.

D4m0cl3s: working late tonight

The second message is a picture. Has you gasping. It's a pair of dark trousers, unbuckled, zip down, but still in place - pushed open enough for you to see the thick outline of a bulge in white Calvins.

D4m0cl3s: thinking about you x

A soft laugh escapes your lips, and you forget all about your bad mood.

You reply, a grin on your face so large that you think it could rival a Cheshire cat.

Cl3m3ntin3: and they say romance is dead?? ♡♡

He replies instantly.

D4m0cl3s: i'm not trying to romance you, clem i'm trying to seduce you :) is it working? Cl3m3ntin3: no x D4m0cl3s: what about now??

The picture he sends through is obscene. Belongs in the centrefold of a top shelf magazine. Has you fucking drooling, a light whimper escaping your lips. The harsh wind of a taxi storming by reminds you that you're in public. You look over your shoulder to make sure there's no one walking by - not because you don't want to get caught looking at it, but so you can oogle at it for a little bit longer.

His fingers are wrapped around his thick cock, his grip tight. Like, real fucking tight. His foreskin is pulled down, and there's a small pool of thick precum glistening on his tip. It's so minimal, but so central to the photo that you know it's the main focus. He's letting you know just how horny he is, just how ready he is to fuck himself into you - and he's hoping that your pussy will be leaking like that, too.

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm on my way home can you wait for like 20 minutes? D4m0cl3s: i've got all night, clem take your time i'll be waiting for you Cl3m3ntin3: be home soooooon D4m0cl3s: travel safe, clemmie x Cl3m3ntin3: simp.

606 notes · View notes

alphabetboyluvr · 9 months

Text

BAD DECISIONS - SMUT INDEX

BD MASTERLIST | WATTPAD Ver. | A03 Ver.

pairing: bartender!jungkook x female reader | strangers-friends-lovers, fwb

synopsis

it's simple: write your deepest darkest fears on origami birds and string them up on jungkook's ceiling. when they fall—which they inevitably will, thanks to his cheap daiso washi tape—you have to face the fear. set it free. the issue? you've a fear of intimacy. jungkook, a fear of rejection. and you've both got the capacity to make some incredibly bad decisions.

note from holly: ask and you shall receive!! i was asked about a list of all the smut chapters in bd, so figured it'd be easier for me to make a masterlist - this took hours because I had to go through the entire story (which is like 450k words LMAO), but if you notice any missing, let me know!! all chapters linked will take you to the wattpad ver.

minors dni

Bad Decision #2 – Park Jimin

tags/warnings: jimin lol, drunk hook-up, slight dom jimin, bratty oc, spanking, fingering, protected sex, fully clothed, no orgasm for oc

Bad Decision #11 - Perry

tags/warnings: first shower, no smut but a lil nakedness

Bad Decision #12 – An Agreement

tags/warnings: mutual masturbation birdie, jk gets himself off in the bathroom sink <3 oc gets herself off in his bed <3

Bad Decision #13 – Work of Art

tags/warnings: Jungkook discovers boobs <3, breast play, nipple play, mirrors, paint (?), shower, mutual masturbation (for realsies this time), he finishes on her tummy <3

Bad Decision # 14 – New Rules

tags/warnings: mirrors, pussy worship, jk has the biggest boner known to man, fingering, one, two, three fingers! Orgasm for oc!!

Bad Decision #15 – Paper Planes

tags/warnings: cockwarming (that escalated!), hand job, fingering, protected penetration (safety first!!), oc on top, mirrors (they love them!), nose nudging!!!, clitoral stimulation, ‘good girl’, both finish <3

Bad Decision #17 – Jeon Jungkook

tags/warnings: cockwarming 2.0, oc is bad a maths!, touching each other up above their clothes <3, mirrors lol ofc, nipple play, spanking, tittie sucking <3, fingering, neck kisses, unprotected (!!) penetration, cockwarming that accidentally becomes fucking! Oops! Jk on top, multiple positions, finishes on her back

Bad Decision #20 – Park Jimin… Again

tags/warnings: oops (kinda wild seeing the progression from 17 to 20 like this lmao), drunk hookup, blowjob, no oc orgasm <;/3

Bad Decision #23 – Cherry Picking

tags/warnings: most read chapter! Fun facts! tipsy hook up, oral (f receiving), pantie sniffing?? lmao, panties in oc’s mouth??? Lol, tittie sucking, spitting, jks nose <3, fingering, oc orgasm!! FIRST KISS!!!! Unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he finishes on her tits <3 and licks it up <3

Bad Decision #24 – Resolutions

tags/warnings: hangover sex, shower sex, slight degradation, use of the word slut in a sexy way, praise, temporarily withheld orgasm (f), switch dynamics, unprotected sex, orgasms (f, m), he finishes in her mouth <3

Bad Decision #25 - January

tags/warnings: fingering, f orgasm, mentions of the erotic accordion lmao

Bad Decision #26 – January, Still

tags/warnings: the tie chapter <3 what he does with the aforementioned tie I shall not get into but it’s pretty self-explanatory, oral (f), fingering, lil spanks, rimming (f receiving), spitting, unprotected sex, doggy, finishes on her back!!

Bad Decision #27 – Keeping Quiet

tags/warnings: this ones a lil angsty!! ‘if you’re here to fuck me, then fuck me. If not, you can go.’, they’re fighting but theyre needy! And tipsy! Bad idea!!!! Unprotected sex, kisses ☹ many kisses ☹ she wants him to finish inside ☹ he doesn’t ☹ mmmm rereading this one made me so sad lol! Sad smut!

Dad Decision #28 – Avoidance

tags/warnings: a lil? Lap sitting?? Dry hump??? Not really smut lol

Bad Decision #29 – ‘Daddy’

tags/warnings: the first of the polaroids, slut (affectionately <3) not smut as such, they’re just sorta working each other up

Bad Decision #31 – The Photo Booth

tags/warnings: all the build up for a blowwie without there being an actual blowwie lol (payback for the daddy thing), cute little lick of dick <3 lil precum swap <3 jk outrageously horny for the rest of the day, the photobooth pictures!!!!

Bad Decision #32 – Question…?

tags/warnings: jk’s parents kitchen, freckle kissing chapter!!!! <3 <3!! He finally gets that blowjob!! Fingering, he calls her baby sooooo much ☹ interrupted!!!!!! Nearly caught! Spend the day horny AGAIN, the conversation in a chicken shop is not the kind of conversation you should have in a chicken shop, jk quite literally wants to drown in you <3 TO THE LOVE MOTEL WE GO! Very needy, very desperate, very good <3 unprotected sex! Missionary! Tittie sucking! Ankles over shoulders! He’s going to town! CREAMPIE ! WE CHEER! Brief mentions of fucking again and him finishing inside her AGAIN

Bad Decision #33 – Boundaries (Or Lack Thereof)

tags/warnings: kisses ☹ so many ☹ ‘last time’ energy ☹ ‘chess’ ☹ against their better judgement, and despite their earlier restraint…. Oops! Shagging! Tittie sucking, dry humping (so not dry), 69, ass eating (f receiving), edging, fingering, clit spanks, squirting, unprotected (v quick!) sex, creampie, happy customers all around (until the next bird falls!)

Bad Decision #37 – Faking It

tags/warnings: angsty!! They are annoyed!!! Dominant jk!!! Arguing in a janitors closet at an art gallery!! Over her ex!!! He’s sooooo mm mm mmmm 😊 lots of ‘good girl’, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, tittie sucking, he wanks himself into her underwear!! While she’s wearing them <3 ‘gonna cum in ur panties, and then ur gonna wear them all night’ <33 they have a show to return to after all!!! He’s being like… so possessive but in a sexy way!

Bad Decision #40 – Spinning Bottles

tags/warnings: sex toys!! M & F !!! solo masturbation for oc, jk hears lol (floorboards are thin!), mutual masturbation, but like way hotter than normal, he’s soooo needy!! Beggy!!! Kisses!!!! Fleshlight creampie lmao, oc cleans it up for him 😊 with her tongue!! Cum swapping <3 so kissy, so lovely <3

Bad Decision #41 – Locked Doors

tags/warnings: shower sex, he like… fucks the little gap at the top of her thighs? Lol, kissy kissy mwah mwah, jk is like… totally in love! Mmmm he compliments!! Pretty standard shagging mechanics, emotion heavy, he finishes inside <;33

Bad Decision #43 – Circles

tags/warnings: dominant oc!! The neediest, whimper-iest handjob known to man!! She calls him a little slut <3 edging!! Oral (f), fingering, his hand is a necklace! Dominant jk! Oc rides!!! Seven had just been released! Sue me!!! Hair pulling, are they fucking or fighting idk, power struggle but sexy, kisses <3 cum! Everywhere!!! Titties and mouth <3 many seven references

Bad Decision #44 – Skinny Dipping

tags/warnings: pretty standard shag tbh, there are people in the rooms closeby but jk simply doesn’t give a shit, creampie, fingers in creampies lmao, eating creampie, too!!, finger sucking, multiple orgasms

Bad Decision #45 – The Rule of Five

tags/warnings: sofa shagging in lieu of speak about feelings! Kissing but v important kissing!! A little bit of cockwarming, unprotected sex, bed sex, creampie, all the good stuff you usually get with bd <33 squirting, jk is so lovely <3

Bad Decision #47 – Time Out

tags/warnings: a lil dry hump <3

Bad Decision #48 – Bickering

tags/warnings: mutual masturbation <3 sex toys (f), he fucks her with it <3 then licks it clean <3 kinda deepthroats it actually lmao, cums on her tummy <3 more polaroids <3

last updated: 20230914

419 notes · View notes

alphabetboyluvr · 11 months

Text

masterlist

all fics are posted to wattpad first (don't judge a girlie by her primary upload platform </3)

i write about the stars, boys who are carved like greek sculptures, and the inability to communicate in a healthy, functional manner. and i also like to write about bangtan sonyeondan in relation to all of those things.

WATTPAD // AO3 // KO-FI // CARRD

no translations | minors dni | don't be a dick x

JJK

SERIES

THROTTLE

pairing: boyracer!jk x fem reader - mutual disdain to lovers synopsis: in which jeon jungkook hates speed limits, the local government, and the way that min yoongi looks at you. current wc: 160,244 warnings: explicit language, drug usage, violence, dangerous driving, smut, and themes of an adult nature. not a mafia au, but teeters around the edges of it. organised crime and corruption are at the heart of the story. the characters have questionable morals and do dumb shit. be prepared to hate them as much as you love them. jungkook is a tittie luvr. no further questions.

BAD DECISIONS - link will take you to the clubdionysus tumblr!

pairing: bartender!jungkook x female reader | strangers-friends-lovers, fwb synopsis: it’s simple: write your deepest darkest fears on origami birds and string them up on jungkook’s ceiling. when they fall—which they inevitably will, thanks to his cheap daiso washi tape—you have to face the fear. set it free. the issue? you’ve a fear of intimacy. jungkook, a fear of rejection. and you’ve both got the capacity to make some incredibly bad decisions. current w/c: 450k notes: smut, fluff, a lil angst, bartender!jk, student!jk, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers (?), fwb, deal arrangement, undefined relationship (they’re just friends! just besties!!), miscommunication, idiots in love, emotional slow burn, bucket list (a.k.a. the birds 2024 note: wattpad took down bad decisions as part of their 2024 purge </3. it's now hosted on it's very own tumblr (clubdionysus) and over on ao3!

BAD DECISIONS SMUT INDEX

ONE SHOTS

extended - 5k words or more

ONCE THE THRILL EXPIRES

pairing: college!jungkook x female reader synopsis: your housemate-turned-fwb takes another girl home after a night out wordcount: 5.8K notes: angsty, smutty turmoil. it’s not that bad, but it definitely isn’t a happy lil number. fingering, oral sex (f receiving), rimming (f receiving), vaginal sex, doggy, protected (!!) sex, lil spanks, jaykay sorta makes out with her ear???, jaykay is a fawk boy who needs to learn self-control, oc is holding out for something that’ll never happen, multiple partners in one night (jk), jk calls the reader diz (dizzy)

LANDSLIDES

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers) synopsis: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn’t ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he’s yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being ‘you’ to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do. wordcount: 6.8K warnings: fluff more than angst, but it’s not clean cut - there’s also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you’ve been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol

ONE SHOTS

short - under 5k words

something borrowed

- mafia au | forbidden love

dance with the devil

- royalty au | former lovers

KNJ

ONE SHOTS

short - under 5k words

back to you

- idol au | exes

KSJ

MYG

SERIES

HUSH

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?) synopsis: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops ! current w/c: 17.5k notes: okay, where to start with this one lmao, sexting! and i mean… a lot of sexting (so much sexting oc will probably get early-onset arthritis in her thumbs), yoongi is a dick, he also hates nepotism, and in turn, you. oh yeah, you’re jin’s sister, you work with the band on tour. jin, yoongi, tae, jk and joon are in The Scouts aka the hottest band since sliced bread. jimin is their tour manager, hobi works up in the head office (he’s sleazy and i love him). slight love triangle, one-near-footjob (and counting!), eventual smut, a little angst, dating app that is exclusively for celebrities / people in the public eye, one incredibly inconvenient pairing, yoongi calls the oc clementine / clemmie and it’s cuter than it sounds, idk how else to explain this, mistaken identity i guess? although not really? look, just read it lol. smut warnings will be on chapters individually!!

PALLADIUM

pairing: dilf!yoongi x reader // friends to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut synopsis: min yoongi is urgent. in the way he bites his nails down to the bed, and the way his sore fingers type out desperate sentences just minutes before deadlines, he is urgent. how he prepares jaehyun’s day bag before grandma comes by, and how he double checks everything is packed, he is urgent. the requests for you to watch over jaehyun each and every deadline day are, always, predictably, urgent. but the way min yoongi falls in love with you is slow. gradual. tepid. until, like everything with min yoongi, it becomes urgent. wordcount: 3.2K notes: three part series, fluff, angst, eventual smut, yoongi is incredibly conflicted, the oc is just as dumbfounded by the way she feels, lots of feelings!!

JHS

PJM

KTH

ONE SHOTS

short - under 5k words

sundae (kinda love)

- childhood friends | angst

#bts fanfic #bts masterlist #byholly #jungkook fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook masterlist #jungkook x reader

750 notes · View notes

alphabetboyluvr · 11 months

Text

bad decisions | jjk - series masterlist

title credit: bad decisions - bts

pairing: bartender!jungkook x female reader | strangers-friends-lovers, fwb

synopsis

genre / tropes: smut, fluff, a lil angst, bartender!jk, student!jk, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers (?), fwb, deal arrangement, undefined relationship (they're just friends! just besties!!), miscommunication, idiots in love, emotional slow burn, bucket list (a.k.a. the birds) - see read more for warnings & authors note

wordcount: 450k babbbbyyyy (on-going)

soundtrack: official | reader suggestions

start date: 2022.08.06

minors dni // originally posted to wattpad

warnings: reader has a fear of emotional intimacy and uses physical intimacy as a substitute, jungkook has a deep-rooted fear of rejection. lots of drinking, lots of cursing, lots of bad decisions (every chapter includes at least (1)), jk and the oc have different styles of communication (woo miscommunication!!), a lot of past relationship trauma on both sides, jungkook is the sweetest angel baby ever, jin is kinda evil, jimin is a shit shag (and you have to experience it not once but twice!)

smut warnings: oc is a lil bratty, both switchy but jaykay definitely leads <3, fingering, oral (m & f), ass play, a looooot of titty sucking, cock warming, vaginal sex, sex toys (m & f), every position ever created, jaykay has a huge cawk <3, filming, lots of showering together, thigh riding, 69, squirting, panty sniffing (and sucking !), mutual masturbation, motel sex, endless orgasms, like, idek what else to add but there's more!! they just fuck a lot!! not my fault!! blame the birds!!

note from holly: i heard bad decisions once, ONCE, and knew i had to write about whiney jaykay and how fucking him would be a bad decision, but then it spiralled and now im 370k words deep into a fic about origami birds, glitter, and the way jungkook thinks he'll die every time he gets horny. of everything I've ever written it's hands down my favourite set of characters. jungkook is good in a way that he isn't in literally any of my other fics. i think it's my most well-received fic over on wp and it's just v v special to me. i hope u enjoy it!

BAD DECISIONS

key: smut 💖 | holly's fave ✨ | reader fave* 🪩 | bird 🕊 | club 🍇 *as per my wp stats all chapters listed below are available on wp, and will eventually be linked here too.

BD #1 - Purple Starfuckers - 3.5k

🍇 | a disco ball walks into a bar...

BD #2 - Park Jimin - 3.2k

💖 | does it count if you don't finish?

BD #3 - Coffee - 2k

message request from justjk

BD #4 - The Gym - 4.1K

just wanted an excuse to write about gym rat jk tbh

BD #5 - The Bet - 6.6k

🍇🪩 | songs that remind you of the past, blissfully unaware you're laying the foundations of your future

BD #6 - Wishing - 6k

🍇| summer goes by in a technicolour haze

BD #7 - Sex With An Ex - 6k

✨| kim seokjin looks like an angel, loves like lucifer

BD #8 - Washi Tape - 8k

enter stage left: origami birds

BD #9 - White - 6k

✨🕊 | old, leering men at waterparks are gross. jungkook is not.

BD #10 - Blonde - 3.5k

in the wise words of maisie peters, there's nothing more frightening than a woman scorned and a box of bleach

BD #11 - Perry - 5.9k

🕊 | it's totally normal to shower with your friends

BD #12 - An Agreement -7.4k

💖🕊 | jungkook has to leave the room cause he gets way too hard (in a platonic way)

BD #13 - Work of Art - 11.8k

💖 🪩🕊 | you discover mirrors. jungkook discovers tits. learning is fun!

BD #14 - New Rules - 8k

💖 🪩🕊 | jungkook's got nice hands and he knows how to use them

TO BE UPLOADED

BD #15 - Paper Planes

BD #16 - Overindulging

BD #17 - Jeon Jungkook

BD #18 - Cake

BD #19 - Send To All

BD #20 - Park Jimin... Again

BD #21 - Doing The 'Right' Thing

BD #22 - Listening To Jimin

BD #23 - Cherry Picking

BD #24 - Resolutions

BD #25 - January

BD #26 - January, Still

BD #27 - Keeping Quiet

BD #28 - Avoidance

BD #29 - 'Daddy'

BD #30 - Evaluating The Meaning of 'Home'

BD #31 - The Photo Booth

BD #32 - Question...?

BD #33 - Boundaries (Or Lack Thereof)

BD #34 - Speed Dating

BD #35 - Saying 'Please'

BD #36 - Denial

BD #37 - Faking It

BD #38 - Delaying The Inevitable

BD #39 - Rooms

BD #40 - Spinning Bottles

BD #41 - Locked Doors

BD #42 - Hitting Where It Hurts

Wattpad | AO3

531 notes · View notes

alphabetboyluvr · 11 months

Text

throttle │ jjk - two

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - just a littleeee (read: mostly) smut... fingering, titty sucking (his fave <3), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (female), creampie, post-creampie-pussy-eating, cum swapping, a little spitting i guess, titty worship, ?? more, maybe ??, idk, you get the idea. oh, and also dangerous driving and jk being down bad within like 5 seconds flat

word count - 13.4k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

Jungkook's cheeks are red, his nose blushed from the chill of the wind by the time you reach his place. It's just on the outskirts of town, past the jewellers' district and out towards the station, and it has you wondering why he's always getting fuel from your neck of the woods. It seems inconvenient, and if you were sober, you'd be questioning it.

Sober, you might have even made assumptions about it.

Hell, you know you would be making assumptions about it.

But you're not sober, and he's got a hold on your hand like you're one of the priceless jewels in the windows you've just walked past.

You're gold dust; a diamond in amongst the rough of downtown Daegu.

In fact, he's holding you so tightly that it's almost as if there's a price on your head, and he wants to be the one to reap the rewards. No sharing. His, all his.

He doesn't loosen his grip on your hand as he begins to punch in the code to his apartment door. It's steel, and robust, hiding everything that Jungkook is behind it. You don't know him, not really - not like you want to - but there's something so painfully intimate about being invited into his space. Has you thinking that maybe you'll get the chance to know him. For a few hours, at least.

The lock beeps, a mechanical whir sounding as the bolt retracts, but he pauses as he puts pressure down on the handle.

"Can you, like, close your eyes?" He grimaces, glancing back around at you. His tongue is tipsy, about to make admissions he never would do sober. "I left in a rush, and there are clothes everywhere 'cause I couldn't decide what to wear and I-"

"Wait, wait, wait," you grin, eyes centred on his. "Did someone get pre-date nerves?"

Jungkook presses his eyes shut, smiling as he rolls his head back. He's never nervous. Always cool, calm, collected - but he can hear your little drunk giggles, and his heart rate is up, and shit, he thinks he might be nervous.

He knows he was nervous before he left.

"I just-" he says with a frustrated groan, too exasperated to finish his sentence before he starts laughing, too.

You're both a little tipsy, swaying, drawing closer to one another. It's innate, the way your body leans into his, with zero resistance from Jungkook as your hands grip the front of his coat for support.

"Shuuuush," he whispers, all giddy and coy, holding his index finger to your lips. It's almost as if he gives a fuck about his neighbours.

He doesn't.

He's just using it as an excuse to get closer to you.

"You shush!" You whisper back, mirroring his actions and holding your finger to his lips, too.

His smile is so big that his dimples are on full display. They're as deep as his eyes are dark, and you just know he must have broken his fair share of hearts in the past. His hands cup your jaw, thumbs resting on the edges of your smile as if he's framing a work of art. He'd argue that he is.

You look so dainty in his hold, and he finds himself overwhelmed with the need to savour your pretty little laugh. It'll taste just like his, but he doesn't care. Thinks it'll be sweeter coming from your lips.

And, so, somewhere between your simpering laugh and his darting eyes, as a flickering light in his hallway beats in unison with your hearts, his lips find yours.

He's still telling you to shush as he does so, and you tell him it back - but neither of you actually shush until your tongues are in each other's mouths.

He fumbles the keypad of his door again, getting you both through the threshold and into his tiny studio before you can even look at the mess of clothes everywhere.

The nerves he once had are gone, because he's confident about this; about you.

The movements of your bodies bleed into one another, neither one of you taking the lead. Instead, it's as if you're a pair of figure skaters gliding through his apartment, eyes closed - not that it makes much of a difference. The lights are off, and a string of fairy lights left up since Christmas provides the only source of illumination.

Jungkook hadn't entirely planned on stumbling home drunk with you, but he knew he'd be stumbling home in some capacity, so leaving them on had seemed like a good idea at the time. He's proven right.

And even though this night hasn't gone exactly how he had planned, he's not complaining. Especially not when your hands begin to fumble with his jacket. You undo it, push it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

Casual arrogance graces his lips as he smirks against you, unbuttoning the top of your skirt.

"I don't fuck on first dates," you tell him, but you don't stop him as he pushes the black denim over your hips and lets it fall to the floor. In fact, you're kind of giving him mixed signals as you reach for his belt, sliding the leather through its buckle.

"We've had, like, 300 GS25 dates," he mumbles into your lips between kisses, so casually that it's almost believable.

He pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it to the floor, and grabs your face just to kiss you again as soon as he can.

It's about now, just after he's finished evaluating your 'dating' history, that you notice the pressure of two small metal balls flicking against your tongue. They're evenly spaced across the centre of his own tongue, and the mere acknowledgement of them has your legs clenching together. The lip ring was bad enough, but a tongue piercing? Fuck.

He smiles as you moan into his lips, and assures you: "I think it's okay if we fuck."

Your hands are in his hair, his gripping onto your waistline before he rids you of your sweater, and all you can do is nod. Playing hard to get is a game for fools, and you're not really sure why you tried it in the first place. You're gonna be winning either way.

"Yeah, you're right," you mumble into his mouth. "We're basically married."

He laughs, and for a second you think that he must have been made by the Gods. It's the only way to explain how a human could be created so heavenly, even when they're about to commit enough sins to send them straight down to the pits.

"Happy honeymoon," he smirks, assisting you as you begin to push his jeans past his ass and down his thighs. Teamwork makes the dream work, after all.

You're both in your underwear, yet neither of you have even looked at the other's bodies yet. Too preoccupied. Too eager. Too consumed by the overwhelming need to feel one another.

His skin is warm, but the ridges of his torso are so hard that you'd be forgiven for thinking he's carved from stone.

Nudging his parted lips against yours, you gasp as his fingers curl in your hair. Jungkook just claims your breaths as his own, pressing his lips firmly shut against yours.

One hand clasps your throat, keeping you secure, as the other trails up your thighs.

"Sure you wanna consummate this marriage?" He asks a little breathlessly, playing on the narrative you built up for this moment, just checking before he does anything he can't take back.

But you're impatient, and you don't think you could be any clearer even if you tried.

"Oh my god," you whine. "Just finger me already."

Your words have him laughing all over again. He likes this, likes that you're not afraid to ask for what you want. He hadn't expected anything less, but it's satisfying to have his assumptions proven right. He kind of gets why you like making so many of them, now.

He fumbles about a little bit, not bothering to turn on the lights. It's not his first rodeo, and he doesn't think it's yours either - in fact, he knows it isn't. You wouldn't be so bold if it was. He doesn't embarrass easy, and knows that there are lessons to be learned with every new woman he acquaints himself with. You're no exception.

"Gotta tell me what you like," he notes as he presses a kiss against your neck, the smell of your perfume so divine that he thinks you must be some kind of lorelei. It's like a meeting of black cherry and vanilla, but when his nose nestles into your hair, he can smell gasoline - and he thinks it might just be the hottest thing about you.

You hum a response, the anticipation causing your heart to beat a mile a minute. He pushes the lace of your underwear to the side, his middle finger running between your folds. You're slick from his kisses alone, but so is he is. As you palm at the bulge in his pants, you can feel the wetness of precum leaking from his tip. He wants this just as much as you do.

"You can do better, little miss clutch control," he teases you. "Speak up."

Part of you wants to kick him in the balls. He's so sexy but so fucking annoying - he can hear how much you're enjoying his touch. He doesn't need confirmation - he just wants the gratification of hearing you say it. It's a power trip for him. You don't like giving men power.

"I like it when you shut the fuck up," you reply, hands in his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. If your words won't do it, then at least your lips will. The vibration of his laugh hums into your mouth, before he pulls away - only by an inch or so.

"That's more like it."

His lips return to yours, as quickly as they left, while he continues to roam. His fingers stay in your underwear, the very tip of his index finger mapping you out. Your body shudders when he brushes your clit, the direct contact a little too much.

He dips down to your entrance, pauses, and says "been thinking about this since the moment I met you," and then pushes two of his fingers into your cunt.

Your walls are tight and hot, but oh-so fucking wet. There's nothing about your pussy that he doesn't love. His thick knuckles are celestial inside of you, just as cosmic as the reflection of his fairy lights in his eyes, and you find yourself thinking that maybe those tattooed hands of his are something special, after all.

"Bra off," he husks, and you do as you're told. He'd have done it himself, but his hands are a little preoccupied.

He adjusts the pair of you as your bra hits the floor, encouraging your legs around his waist. Hoisting you up before you really have a chance to comprehend what he's doing, you're pretty certain that this is just an excuse to display his strength. You're impressed, so it's working, but you're also unable to really think about anything other than the way he feels inside of you.

Your back is against the wall, the weight of his body keeping you pinned in position as he fucks his fingers into you. There's no real calculation to his movements, just an awareness that he absolutely cannot fuck you yet. He'll simply finish too quickly.

It's not that he doesn't enjoy a quickie - truth be told, he finds them far more convenient - it's just that it would be mortifying.

He's not sure he'd actually be able to show up at the gas station ever again if you heard him whine like a little bitch and unload himself in five seconds flat.

Equally, he doesn't want you to dread his car coming into the forecourt.

He wants you daydreaming about him, all hazy-eyed, like you are when you're drunk, waiting for his car to roll in. He wants you musing about the way his tongue feels against your neck, and your coworker asking why you're smiling so much. He wants you blushing as you try to think of a justification, and he wants you excusing yourself to go to the bathroom to sort out the wetness pooling in your underwear.

So, yeah. A quickie simply won't do.

He grips onto the side of your neck with his spare hand as he sinks his fingers into your pussy again. The way you gasp is like music to his ears, every single one of his senses overrun by the entity that you are.

It's mutual though. You're consumed by everything that he is; his scent, the sound of his laboured grunts, the taste of his tongue and the feel of his hands all over your body. The only sense he isn't violating is your sight - but it's only 'cause he's making you feel so good that your eyes are forced to rest shut.

Jungkook, on the other hand, exclusively watches you. He marvels at the way your head leans back against the wall, neck exposed for him to leave a trail of pretty purple bruises. He knows he shouldn't. Knows he shouldn't leave a single mark on your skin. Knows better than to leave evidence of his crimes, but it's a sin he thinks he'd quite like to commit over and over again.

You're pretty good at faking it. A string of careless lovers, of whom you used to entertain prior to learning your worth, had helped you to perfect a moan. You can manipulate your body, make your chest heave with exertion, your pussy throb around their fingers, their cocks. You can make it leak, get yourself looking like a fucking mess for them, as if it's because of them. It's a fine art.

Botticelli would admire you, you think. His Venus couldn't compete with you. Femme fatal; a kisser of jaws, a killer of the men you have to let down gently because they fall too in love with you for your liking. Understandably, given what you can do. You've mastered it. Mastered men.

And it's for this reason, that you don't fake anymore. If someone isn't pleasing you, you let them know. You view it as a way of helping humanity - or their future girlfriends, at least. Why waste time letting someone else think they're getting you off, when it's you doing all the hard work?

You'd gone into this prepared; ready to remedy what would inevitably be a disappointing shag with a near stranger.

But you're not throbbing around Jungkook's fingers - you're trembling. There's no self-made stutter in your chest, but there's one a little lower down, one that you've got absolutely no jurisdiction over. Y'see, the way you're gasping, like you're struggling against a riptide, caught in the wave that is Jeon Jungkook, can't be faked.

It's what has him smirking as he puts pressure behind the kisses he's placing on your neck. It's the fact that every time you try and speak, even if it's just a curse or the sound of his name, it's cut short. You've no control. Fuck all. It's all on him, on account of him being inside you. If he's learnt anything about you in the short time that he's known you, it's that you're never speechless. Always getting that last word in.

But you can't even formulate one now, his fingers pumping into you at such a speed, that the lewd wet noise is almost louder than your moans. Almost.

Jungkook isn't a jealous kind of guy, especially not when it comes to casual hookups - but he kind of thinks he's jealous of his own fucking fingers.

Every single part of him wants your pussy; his tongue, his cock. You feel so good around him that he regrets not making a move sooner. Should have asked to fuck you as soon as you started talking about his car on his first visit to the gas station. Lord knows he thought about it.

His lips are on yours, not really kissing you, resting open, his breaths heavy and laboured. The way he's pushing into you, deeper, deeper, has you mirroring his expression, small moans pouring into his mouth. He wants to eat them up, devour them, use them as fuel.

You loosen the grip you have in his pale hair, gripping onto his neck with one hand, the other falling to his bicep. He likes the scratch of your nails against his bare skin, but there's a distance between you both that he wants to close. He pulls his hand from beneath your ass, relying on his core strength alone to keep you pressed into the wall, and reaches for your fingers. Intertwining them, he places his hand, with yours beneath it, back against the wall, above your head.

The change in position has your chest lifting, almost as if your tits are begging to have his lips around them - and who is he to refuse?

His tongue finds your nipple, flicking against the hardened nub before sucking it between his lips. The vibration of his studs against your sensitive bud has your back arching. He sucks you further into his mouth, tongue lapping against you, before he releases your nipple - but it's so puffy, and wet, and perfect, and fuck- he can't help himself, teasing at it again with his tongue.

So fixated on how you feel in his mouth, he's forgotten that he meant to be fucking you. His cock throbs beneath his boxers, as his fingers are kept warm by your walls, slick wetness creaming around the base of his knuckles and dripping down his palm.

His apartment is small, so it only takes him a moment to move you from the wall and toss you down into his sheets. There's a waft of his fabric conditioner as he does so, floral and soft. It's hard to imagine a man so broad, so handsome, so god damn irresistible, paying any attention to laundry - but you suppose it must just add to his charm.

"C'mere," you whine, as he takes a moment to take in the sight of you. Missing the way he feels, you pull him down onto the bed - but he's scared that even just rutting against you will have him spilling himself all over your stomach. Instead, he places himself beside you, and gets to work.

There's a familiarity now, his mouth taking your nipple again, wet and wanting, as his fingers toy with your pussy. He's not sure which he prefers, your pussy or tits, but he's more than happy to play with them both. His thumb presses on your swollen clit, and you writhe beneath him. "You like that, huh?"

You try and respond, but his thumb begins to rub languid circles against you. If you couldn't muster a word before, then like fuck can you speak now.

"Huh?" he teases, teeth grazing your hardened nipple, now. His finger strokes at your walls as he sinks into you once more, on the hunt for something that no one has ever been able to find, except you. The way your legs are tensing lets him know he's close.

"I asked if you like that." He's only a knuckle deep, stroking pretty little circles against your walls. Closer. You whine. "Don't go all shy on me now, doll."

Your body writhes beneath his, toes curling, teeth digging down on his shoulder in a failed attempt at keeping quiet. He hopes you'll leave a mark. His thumb presses a little harder against your clit, encircling it with pressure so deep that you're almost certain you'll die from his touch.

"Don't stop," is all you can manage. "Don't stop- fuck."

"Better," he says, pressing a kiss into your neck. You can feel his precum leaking onto your thigh, and the idea of him dirtying you has you insatiable. He can tell you're at his level now, so close to finishing that it won't be embarrassing when he's done in five-seconds-flat - but the way you're putty in his hands has him unable to stop himself. He's gotta make you cum. Needs to.

He presses his thumb down, fingers up, as if he's pinching them together, and then he's stroking and - "Oh, fuck it. Right there. Right fucking there." - he's found it.

He's fucking found it, the little ridge in your pussy that up until now has been just for you. You've lied before, told guys they've hit your g-spot and faked a little something that convinces them of it - but it's never been like this. Ever. Not even when you find it.

Jungkook follows your commands. He won't stop, doesn't stop, not even when your nails grab at his wrist because the pleasure is so unbearable, so intense, that it fucking hurts.

"Like that," you encourage, knowing your grip probably says otherwise. "Like that, fuck."

He does as he's told, and keeps like that, lips latching onto your nipple, sucking just as hard as his fingers are massaging. The slickness of your walls compared with the texture of your g-spot has him going insane. He doesn't think it's his first time finding such a sacred spot, but it's never been this easy, and the reaction has never been this good.

You moan out his name, 'cause he's all you can think about. Any and all articulation of your pleasure goes on him.

"Yeah, baby?" he asks, forgetting that he doesn't know you nearly well enough to be addressing you like that, but he doesn't slow down. You just moan. He can call you whatever the fuck he wants at this point. It's too good. Too much.

"Kook, I-" you try, but your hips are bucking, and there's fuck all you can do to stop it.

"Just a little more, baby," he promises you.

He will make you cum. Will do whatever it takes, if needs be. The tip of his cock is red and leaky against your thigh, ready to fuck into you, but he doesn't give a shit. Your walls are hot. Burning hot. And then they're throbbing, and your torso begins to tense. You whisper his name like a secret prayer, legs trying to close around the welcome intrusion of his hand.

"That's it," he keens. "Cum for me, doll. All over my fingers. That's it."

You're fucking mewling as your body shudders against his. There's no dignity left in your body. It's pooling in the palm of his hand, slick and slippery, just where he wants it.

"You're unreal," he hums, drawing the last of your little death from you. "Fucking insane, babe. So fucking hot."

Turns out the Grim Reaper had made an appearance that evening, just in the form of a 6-foot adonis, who knows his way around a pussy like he does a bloody electric switchboard.

You're panting, and so is he, his lips curving against your skin. Neither of you speaks for a minute, both casually aware that it - this, the night - isn't over yet.

And then Jungkook just thinks to hell with acting coy, or playing it cool. You're naked in his bed, and so is he. No point in beating around the bush (unless you're into it).

"Wanna eat you out," he says as he presses a kiss into your neck, placing himself more centrally over you. Your chest is still heaving, and the thought of cumming again makes you feel all dizzy. His elbows are rested by your head, cock stiff against your tummy. You wrap your arms around his neck, toying with his pretty blonde hair. "Wanna fuck you first, though."

There's a logistical step to be taken there. You're on birth control, and the subject of regularly testing had come up during a particularly suggestive conversation over dinner. You both know he'll be fucking you raw - which means he's finishing raw, too.

"But-"

"I don't care," he mumbles into your lips, a little rough, claiming them as his own. He really doesn't give a fuck if it means eating his own cum. Not like he hasn't done it before. He's probably just gonna spit it into your mouth, anyways.

He pulls his hips back to line himself up. The tip of his cock nudges into you slowly, gently, and then he eases himself forward. It burns, the thickness of his shaft spreading you in a way that his fingers couldn't. It's bliss. Divine. Heavenly, and yet absolute sin.

He revels in the way you feel, for a moment, letting your walls stretch before he sinks into you fully. You curse as he does so, the pain overridden by pleasure. His hips begin to pick up pace, eyes on yours to make sure that you're okay as he ploughs into you.

It's like he's digging for diamonds, almost. Funny thing is, when you gasp, eyes all wide and focused on his, it's looks like he's found them in your eyes. It's just the reflection of his fairy lights, but the illusion fools him.

Looking at you is too much for him to handle, so Jungkook kisses you as his hips begin to stall. He really wasn't kidding when he figured he'd finish in no time at all. His brows are creased, moans muffled against your lips. His torso shudders, abdomen as tight as his balls.

"Gonna make me cum," he drowsily mewls, fucking himself into you like it's where he belongs.

His body is clammy against yours, stamina impressive but dwindling. His thrusts are getting sloppy, and so are his kisses, but you kind of love it like this; Jungkook so out of control he isn't even trying to keep a pace anymore. The rhythm of your body beneath his, the way he fits inside of you, how soft and warm your tits are as they pillow against his chest, it's all too much for him.

He's so deep he's practically kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock, and yet he still hooks your leg over his elbow. He needs to be deeper.

"Gonna make me cum so much. You want that, huh? Wanna be the reason I cum?" he grunts, and then his words become needy. "Tell me you want it, doll. Tell me."

He licks into your mouth, toying with your tongue before you even get a chance to respond.

"Don't want it," you pant, his harsh thrusts interrupting your words. He's about to be offended, all needy and pouty while he's buried inside you, but you're biting down on your lip and - oh, god - he's obsessed. "Need it. Cum for me. Want it so bad."

He smiles against your cheek as his hips move languidly between your legs. One of his hands comes down to your hip to help him control himself, but he can't. Not when he can feel you smiling, too. He laughs a little, soft and mellow against your skin - and when you do the same thing back, Jungkook knows he's absolutely done for.

"I'm gonna-" he rasps, unable to finish his sentence. "Where? Where do you want me?"

You don't say anything, just tighten the grip of your legs around his waist. You're a fucking mess, mentally, physically. He's ruined you in every sense of the word.

"Sure?"

"Sure," you pant against his skin, before repeating your earlier claim. "Need it. Need you."

It's a lie. You don't. You barely know him - but you feel so in tune, so aligned, when he's inside you that it feels like your pussy is the only place his cum deserves to be. It'd be wasted on your tits (though Jungkook would definitely disagree).

"God," he groans. "Don't say shit like that."

Jungkook has severely underestimated just how much of a little bitch you can be.

"Like what?" you pout as his thrusts get even sloppier, his skin slapping against yours. "What can't I say? How much I need you?"

He curses your name, lips showering you in pretty kisses. His tongue finds its home inside your mouth, but it's just an attempt to shut you up. A pretty good one, in all fairness. The way his studs feel against your tongue has you dripping around the base of his cock.

You can hear it; Jungkook slipping in and out of your soaked pussy like you're fire and he's ice.

"Need you," you simper again, just to fuck with him a little more. "Need to feel you fill me up."

"You want it that bad, huh?"

He pulls himself back a little, sitting up on his heels, holding onto your hips as he fucks himself into you. Your tits pillow on your chest, bouncing in time with his thrusts, hypnotising him, almost. You're smiling as your forearms cover your eyes, a little shameful of being caught in such a compromising position, but loving it nonetheless.

"Looking a little shy, there," he says, but his tone is so low it almost sounds like a growl. You pull your arms away, and he's amazed that you can still manage to raise a brow and throw him a pissed off glare even when he's balls deep in you. Truth be told, it just makes him want you even more. He's fond as he smiles at you. "There she is."

Even if you can't fake your orgasms for him, you can still fake annoyance.

"You gonna cum, or what?" You sigh, and then he's laughing, sinking back down, elbows either side of your head as he kisses you. "All men do is lie."

"Not gonna cum," he says, and you're right - it is a lie. "Just gonna keep fucking you forever."

"I have work tomorrow."

"Fuck if I care," he sinks his tongue back into your mouth, briefly, just to remind you who's really in control here. "Said I'll fuck you forever, so forever it is."

There's a bell chiming in your tummy, and you're not able to convince yourself that it's just another building orgasm. It's still him, though, in a round about way.

"We're not allowed to bring our pets to work," you deadpan. "No can do."

Jungkook stops thrusting, and pulls his head back, almost to look at you in disbelief. He's smiling, and he's so desperately turned on that his balls fucking hurt, but he's never been more perplexed in bed. You're equal parts a siren and a little shit.

You're grinning too, pleased to have rendered him speechless. "What is it, huh? Cat got your tongue?"

He smirks, now. "Nah. Not yet. But it will."

And then he's back at it, hips erratic, building such a pace that you can't even think, let alone come out with some dumb remark.

"Still need it, huh?" He recites your words back to you, voice raspy and hushed, so close it feels like his body could give out at any second. He's edging himself, trying to make it last just a little bit longer, but it's so wet, and you're so fucking tight, and he's throbbing, and grunting and - fuck - it's so fucking good he might just die.

"You're gonna look so pretty when I fill you up," he moans, before correcting himself. "Already pretty. So fucking pretty."

His hips slap against yours, once, twice, and then it's happening.

He buries himself in you, body tense as a shiver runs down his spine. Your nails dig into his back, a hushed whine escaping from his mouth and getting lost in your hair.

His cock unloads thick creamy spurts with every stroke of your pussy, coating you with the very essence of everything that he is. It's overindulgent and unrestrained. Fuck if it isn't the most full you've ever felt, ropes of thick cum spurting into you like he was built to fucking breed.

He pumps himself gently inside you for a moment or so, just to ease the remainder of his hot cum into you. The sound is lewd as he adjusts, his job very much done.

Neither of you speak for a moment, hedonism taking heed. The way his heart beats in his chest is unlike anything you've ever felt before. In fact, you're almost in a state of shock, and so is he.

Only for a moment, though. He's not actually done yet.

Your first orgasm was cute - but there's no way he's letting you see him that pathetic, that weak, without making sure you end up in the exact same state.

He presses a few kisses to your damp neck, laughing softly. "Get what you wanted?"

Looking at you, brown eyes all big and sparkling, he pulls his torso back up, ass resting on his heels, before checking the state of his cock as he withdraws himself.

You're smiling as you watch him stare at where the pair of you meet with such devotion that it's hard not to feel a little enamoured with him. Even if it is just a casual fuck.

"Got what I wanted." Your voice is light and airy, like you're a Disney princess waking up from centuries of slumber. Might not have had true loves kiss, but you bet none of them has ever had a fuck like Jungkook.

You pout a little when he finishes pulling out, sad to have lost the feeling of fullness. He catches your expression, and smiles.

"Cute," he says a little mindlessly, articulating a thought that wasn't meant to be shared.

"Shut up," you reply, embarrassed, but he doesn't mind. Not in the slightest. In fact, he loves that you didn't want him to leave. Kind of wishes that he could have kept his cock buried inside you, instead.

But Jungkook is a man of convictions, and a firm believer that he'll simply die if he can't eat you out.

You sort of think the moment has passed, that it was something he said in the heat of the moment. Figure now he's orgasmed, he's finished - but Jungkook is an endurance athlete, not a sprinter. There's still a hurdle left to jump.

He presses your legs apart so that he can look at you. Your hole is creamy and fucked out, his load slowly seeping out of you with every beat of your heart. His fingers dip just beneath your entrance, collecting his cum on them, before he pushes it back into you. He doesn't look at you, just your cunt, as he says, "told you you'd look pretty full of my cum."

The way he's staring at you, like a man who hasn't eaten for days being presented with a three course meal, has you feeling all hot and bothered.

You're satisfied. The sex you just had was enough. More than enough - but you're getting weak at the knees again, his desire infectious. You can't remember a time you've ever wanted someone as badly as you want him. Not for any deeper reason than the selfish fact that he makes you feel good. It's pure lust, no romance about it.

His fingers continue to push his cum into you, stroking up and down your walls, applying just enough pressure to let you know he's there.

He moves his body back, keeping his fingers snug inside you - and then he lowers his body, just a couple of inches from you. His breath feels cold against the slick wetness covering your pussy.

"Also told you I wanted to eat you," he adds, as if you need reminding.

His spare hand strokes down the inside of your thigh before it reaches your hot core, and he begins to toy with your pussy. He spreads your lips open, just like he did your legs, and then he's studying you. Figuring out ways he can get your squirming.

The first initial contact is brief; the tip of his tongue licking across the top of your clit. A parched moan escapes your lips, and he smiles. "There?"

"There," you moan, eyes closed, head pushed back into his pillows.

He does it again, tongue a little flatter, a little firmer. You feel his piercing against you this time, smooth and hard. Your clit is snug between the two studs, like it was made to be there. He does it again. Wetter, deeper. And again. Slower, harder - and then his speed builds.

He licks up and down across your clit, rolling it beneath his tongue, once, twice- and then you lose count, so lost in ecstasy that all you can think about is his tongue lapping at your cum-filled cunt, plugged with his fingers.

Occasionally, he sucks gently on your clit, just to earn a little extra moan from you. It works every single time.

You're leaking around his fingers at this point, so close to cumming again that it's impossible to keep your legs open. He feels the pressure of your thighs against his head, and it only serves to encourage him. His speed builds, both his tongue and his fingers meeting with your pussy at such divine speeds that you're sure you'll cum in such an undignified manner that'll he'll perhaps regret his choices.

As your muscles begin to tense, his head in a literal death grip, he smiles, dimples deep and lips pretty against your pussy. Jungkook is utterly enthralled with how it feels to have his face between your thighs.

He keeps his eyes closed, letting himself experience the sensations of your body completely unadulterated. If he could see you, he'd be so obsessed with the view that he might not savour you in the way that he wants to. He wants to taste you, to smell you, to feel how soft and warm you are. If he wasn't obsessed before (which he was), then he definitely is, now.

The pressure builds, his tongue lapping against you, one of your hands tangled in his messy blonde hair, the other holding one of your boobs for a little moral support.

You're too far gone to even let him know you're about to come undone all over again. He knows, though. He can feel you pulsing, and then you're gasping, and panting, and mewling and fuck, he loves the way you sound.

Your muscles throb as he brings you to orgasm. It's so undignified that you're certain you'll never cum like this again. Your abdomen flexes involuntarily, making sure your orgasm is signed, sealed, delivered to you. He pushes your legs apart again, glancing up towards you as he licks one final stripe up your exposed mess.

You ignore the slick on his fingers that's now coating your thigh as he spreads them apart, too busy with the fact his chin is soaked, hair a mess, nose blushed. He's watching your entrance seep; a mixture of himself and you.

It's hard to know what belongs to who, but as he dips down and licks it up with the tip of his pointed tongue, the ownership is clear. It doesn't matter whose is whose, because your pussy belongs to him, now.

It's all his.

He gathers the creamy slick on his tongue, and then he pulls on your hand to encourage you into a sitting position.

You're putty in his hands, doing whatever he tells you, which is albeit very little. In fact, he doesn't say anything - just looks at your lips, then your eyes, and clasps your jaw.

He opens his mouth and pools his tongue, letting the mess that you've both made sit prettily in his mouth, dancing over his studs. He nods gently, moving his thumb from your jaw to your pillowy bottom lip, pressing down on it.

Open.

He's insatiable. Wants his cum on your tongue, but wants yours on his, too.

You spread your lips apart, eyes exclusively on his. Your tongue flicks against his thumb.

And then you nod.

Please.

Jungkook is slow in his approach, tentative as he holds your jaw, bringing your closer to him. His tongue licks into your mouth, swiping against yours, swapping his cum between the pair of you. It's a languid exchange, slow and sensual, neither of you caring for the boundaries that are being crossed.

He pulls away from you, hand gripping your jaw again. You open your mouth instinctively, just like he wants you to. Neither of you pay any attention to his phone, which is flashing on the floor next to his bed.

Spit gathers in his mouth, rinsing himself of the pair of you as he draws you closer to him, your mouth still resting open. He spits directly into it. You whimper a little as he does so, his grip on your jaw keeping your mouth open for him to observe just how messy it is; all thanks to him.

"Swallow," he tells you, easing his grip, and so you do.

Lips closed, you swallow everything; his spit, his cum, your cum, all of it. When he grips your jaw again, you know the drill, but it doesn't stop him from commanding you.

"Open."

He's pleased when you do, mouth all pretty and clean for him to ruin again - but instead, he just kisses you softly, hands on your cheeks, pushing your bodies back down into his sheets. There's a tenderness to the way in which he touches you; as if he realises you sacrificed a little dignity for him, so he's trying to restore it.

He's hard again - had never really softened, in all honesty - but he's too sensitive to do anything about it.

"Stay," he mumbles against your lips. Your hands are in his hair, keeping him close, as your legs wrap around his waist. "Stay the night. Wanna wake up to this."

You moan into his lips. His cock is firmly pressed into your stomach, his naked body warm against yours.

There's something about the weight of his body, the firmness of his muscular chest against the soft pillow of your own, that is unrivalled by any other sleeping arrangement you could think of.

And despite knowing exactly what he's saying, and being far too skeptical to think he means anything other than sex, you still choose to toy with him a little.

"Wake up to what?" You purr into his lips, aware that your hips are languidly rolling against him again.

He kisses down your neck, laughing softly to himself. His smile vibrates against your skin, and, for a moment, it's your favourite feeling in the whole entire world.

"To you."

You're pretty sure he can feel the way your pulse skips a beat in your neck. But again, you're difficult. And this arrangement definitely isn't anything more than just sex.

"You mean to my pussy, right?"

He presses pretty little kisses back up your neck, along your jaw and into your lips. They're cute. Kind. Romantic, even.

"Oh, a hundred percent," he grins against your lips, and then you're laughing too.

"You're so mean," you pout, as if you weren't the one to put the words into his mouth. There's a dimple etched into his cheek, eyes all hazy and sparkling as he shakes his head. He thinks you look adorable when you pout. So damn cute. He steals another kiss, and protests.

"Made you cum twice," Jungkook says, and has the audacity to scrunch his nose, acting all cute and shit. You're embarrassed, bringing your hands from his hair to cover your face, which you just know is flaming red. "I think that's actually pretty nice of me."

He pulls one of your hands away from your face, and kisses your knuckles. His smile matches yours - because while yes, you're embarrassed, you're still riding the post-fuck high, too.

"You also spat in mouth," you remind him, and then he's cringing. Jekyll and Hyde have nothing on Jungkook when it comes to him and, well, him in bed. "That's not very nice."

He covers his eyes with his hands, but his teeth are still on show, smile prevailing. "Shut up."

And then he's kissing you again, 'cause fuck it, he just can't stop himself.

It's been a while since he last got like this. In fact, he probably hasn't been this giddy post-fuck since he was a teenager. He's normally in the shower by this point, ridding himself of whoever he's been inside - but he doesn't have the compulsion to do that with you.

He knows that when he breaks from the spell you've cast upon him, he'll be back to reality. The fairy dust will settle on the ground like ashes, and the magic that once was will become nothing but malice.

There's a bridge to be crossed.

Jungkook has been fixing it up - repairing the cracks, making it sturdy - but he's not sure he wants what's on the other side, anymore. Not when you're in his bed, not when he can feel your chest wobble with every little laugh you do, and not when your nails are tenderly scratching at his scalp.

See, he likes being on this side of the bridge. Likes being with you.

But if he doesn't cross it, the trolls beneath it will inevitably come for him.

And so he asks you to stay again, but this time he says it like he means it.

"I want you to stay with me," he speaks quietly, rolling off of you and curling up beside you, reaching for the duvet that ended up at the end of his bed. He brings it back over your bodies, as if he's locking you in. You have to stay now.

You turn to face him, curling up too, mirroring him. Your fingers delicately tuck strands of his beautiful blonde hair behind his ear, ignoring the way his eyes are focused on you. Instead, you watch your hand as it moves, curiously touched by the fact he wants you to stay. You don't peg him as guy who often wants a girl to stay.

You're right to assume that.

Right to assume that he normally doesn't do this.

One night stands? Yeah, sure. He's had a handful - but never at his place. He doesn't like inviting people back to his apartment. It feels too personal. He likes being able to leave. He doesn't do the whole waking up together thing - no matter how much he likes morning sex (of which he does ( a LOT)).

But Jungkook's thinking about that bridge again.

He's thinking about the fact he knows shouldn't be at home right now.

He's thinking about the fact that you should be at home right now.

He's thinking about the fact his phone is on silent, and that Namjoon is probably cursing him out on voicemail right now.

But then you kiss him, and for a moment, he forgets again.

"I get grouchy when I'm hungover," you warn him, giving him an out, just in case he wants to retract his offer.

"Mhmm," he hums, pulling you into his chest. Your legs intertwine as he squeezes you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're grouchy when you're not hungover."

You laugh, cheeks plump and full, resting right where his heart is pumping a little faster than usual.

"You're lucky you're a good fuck, or else I'd be out of that door ASAP."

It's a lie, and you both know it.

"Thank god for my cock," he says, grinning like an absolute twat.

He decides that he's still really drunk. It's the only way to explain how his body feels all disjointed but perfectly together at the same time.

"Thank god for your cock."

────────────

You're still awake as the sun begins to rise. He's mumbling, saying something about how a town in Alaska has a cat for a mayor, while your head rests on his bare chest.

He's a little clammy, the smell of sex stuck to him. Neither of you have showered yet. You enjoy the way your bodies are a little sticky, skin on skin, as if you're made for his bed; for him.

Every now and again, his hands roam out of the realm of safety, and you find your breath hitching, toes curling, lips parting. It's always accompanied by the sound of an airy smirk from Jungkook.

You learn that he's obsessed with your chest. Your tits, more specifically. So pillowy, so soft. A gift bestowed upon you from Venus herself, he thinks, or at least he would, if he knew who Venus was.

He just wants to hold them forever. In his hands, in his mouth, he doesn't care. He'll put his dick between them too, eventually. Another time. He's too sensitive right now. But definitely one day, and definitely soon.

A little sunlight pours in, and you watch speckles of dust as they dance around in the air. When he laughs, soft and serene in the hazy atmosphere of a post-fuck come down, it's nice. You imagine that you'd quite like to do this again. You hope he feels the same.

"Just think it's funny," he says, toying with your fingers. "How a cat can do a better job than fully grown men."

"Pussy power," you smile, and so does he, before he presses a kiss into your hair. It still smells like gasoline and he still thinks it's the sexiest thing in the world. It's funny, 'cause if you knew it smelt that way, you'd feel insecure about it. It's why he doesn't mention it. Doesn't want you withdrawing from his touch.

He nestles down, shifts his naked body beneath his duvet but keeps you close. His legs interlock with yours and his lips find a home on the curve of your shoulder. "I'm really glad you said yes."

The comment seems out of the blue, but it's not. Your thoughts have been echoing in his mind, too. It sounds a lot like vulnerability. To him, it feels more like he's laying down a safety net. Making his intentions clear. Doesn't want you second-guessing. Not this, at least. He knows the way you like to theorise.

"You didn't really give me a choice," you rib, as if that chime isn't back in your diaphragm.

He squeezes you tightly. "Don't say that. You could have said no."

You shuffle down, tilt your head, and press a kiss into his chest, just between his pecks. Sweet like honey, your lips trail across, placing delicate kisses in pride of place.

His firm muscle; one, two. His dark nipple; a flick of your tongue, one, two. Just above his beating heart; one, two, three.

Your lips feather across his collarbone and land where tattoo leaks ever so slightly onto the top of his chest. You sign the art with your kisses like the ultimate thief. Stolen. Yours, now.

"You'd have still shown up regardless."

And you're right, he would have done.

Not for any grand romantic gesture, nor to coerce you into something you didn't want. He's just got a job to do, that's all.

He doesn't respond, but you don't really notice.

By the time you're dressed and leaving his apartment, the 503 is running. He offers to pay for your fare, but you tell him that it's fine, and hop on the bus as if your insides don't burn. It's been a while since you had a workout that vigorous.

There are a few old women and a middle-aged man in a business suit taking the same journey as you.

Your cheeks flush crimson when you start to think about the ache in the pit of your stomach, right beneath that little chime that likes to ding every now and again. That feeling? The one that made you quietly gasp as you sat down? That's Jungkook.

The acknowledgement ruminates. It's insidious. Has you feeling all dirty.

You wonder if they know. The people on the bus, the one's sat around you. They couldn't possibly know, not really, but you brood over the notion that you give off an aura; one that says you've just been fucked by the most beautiful man you've ever laid eyes upon.

You wonder if the old ladies glance at you and long for the days when they'd go home with strangers.

You wonder if the middle-aged man is responding to the pheromones you're releasing without realising it, cock a little plump in his pants.

It's a morbid curiosity, but one that makes you feel all hot, and sticky, and sordid. Makes you feel good, too. A little dangerous. A little bit like you wanna get off the 503 and leg it back to Jungkook's place.

It has you reaching for your phone, pulling up kakaotalk and clicking through on your most recent contact. There's still a message at the top of your thread, warning about spam, or fraud, or whatever it is. You don't read it. Too busy typing away.

You're about to press send on a poorly thought out message when your phone vibrates in your palm. You pause. Cringe. Are aware that Jungkook will have seen how quickly you read his own message that's just come through to you.

꾹: i wanna do that again.

You: the galbi or the sex?

꾹: both.

꾹: mainly the sex, though.

꾹: the galbi i can take or leave.

Your legs press together, and realise you're squirming in your seat. It's subtle, but anyone who's looking at you must know.

You: funny, im the opposite.

You: id die for the galbi.

You: sex was alright.

꾹: wow, a glowing review.

꾹: can i add it to my tinder profile?

Like fuck you can, you think to yourself. If he's still active on tinder after the night you had together, you'll do the reasonable thing and learn witchcraft just so you can hex him. You tell yourself you're just joking, but honestly, the idea is tempting.

You: uh-huh.

You: you can put it right beneath a bullet point where you let them know how much you like eating your own cum :)

꾹: technically, you ate it.

꾹: i just delivered it :)

You: thank you for your services.

꾹: any time.

You: tonight?

꾹: please.

And so he arrives at the gas station just before nine, hood up, angelic strands of blonde hair tickling over his eyes. He's got a mask on, like he usually does, a black turtle neck resting prettily around his throat. An earth-toned flannel shirt peeks out from the bottom of his jacket, where the hem meets a pair of black jeans. He has a charm about him that makes the world stop turning for a moment when you first look at him.

He's not really sure how to greet you. With a kiss? A high five? Neither of these seems like a good idea, so he just does an awkward half-bow, which leaves cringing.

"Just gotta cash up," you smile from behind the kiosk. "You walked?"

He shakes his head. "Parked around the corner again. Didn't wanna block the forecourt."

It's a reasonable enough excuse, even if a little weird. You finish what you're doing, cash up, give Jieun the keys (and ignore the way she's grinning at you) and then toss your jacket over your shoulders. He walks beside you as you leave the store, popping your hood up again just like he did the night before. "It's windy."

The forecast said it would rain, too, but Jungkook doesn't know this. Doesn't actually give a shit about the weather. Just needs excuses to put your hood up.

"So I've been thinking," he says as you make your way to the side lane.

"Dangerous," you quip, but he ignores it - though he does nudge you a little. You let your body move in accordance with his, swaying back into him slightly. Like a swinging pendulum, you're about to recoil, but Jungkook's arm drapes around your shoulders, keeping you close. The scent of his clothes is a mix of fresh cotton and WD-40. It makes you laugh, how much a walking juxtaposition he really is.

"I've been thinking," he reinforces, and pauses just in case you're planning on interrupting again - but you don't. You want to hear his thoughts. All of them. No matter how big or small. "What if... What if we skip the sex tonight?"

You don't respond immediately, walking around to the passenger's side of his car. He clicks down on his key, opening up the locks. The lights flood your features, illuminating you in warm hues, reds and oranges, as if to send Jungkook a warning: she's dangerous.

"Skip the sex?" You raise a brow, ignoring the butterfly atrium that has spontaneously constructed beneath your ribs. "You lured me here under false pretences, Mr Gimbap."

He doesn't question the nickname. Figures he'll find out its origins this evening. After all, all he wants to do is talk.

Talk about you, where you come from, where you plan on going. He wants to know more; what makes you tick, your favourite chocolate bar wrapper joke, if you really meant what you said about not fucking on first dates. Wants to know if he's special. Wants to know if he gets to you the same way you do to him.

He'll ask you about your favourite Shakespeare play, and he'll hope that you'll say Romeo & Juliet. It's the only one he's read.

You'll tell him that it's not a representation of love, and he'll say he knows. He doesn't - he just won't want you to think that he bases his idea of romance on such ill-fated endeavours. Thinks it's about stars-crossing, illicit affairs, love that prevails. Shit like that.

He isn't really sure what it all means, but he's seen the Baz Luhrmann adaptation, and that's enough.

You'll say that Romeo is an ass, and he'll feign offence and tell you that you'll never be his Juliet. It'll earn him a laugh from you. That's fine; you never wanted to be her.

You're a Beatrice in search of her Benedict, after all - and the way that the pair of you bicker, it seems like you might have just found him - even if he does think he's a Romeo. Twat.

"I didn't," he laughs in response to your earlier statement. "I just like to know the girls I'm sticking my dick in, that's all."

"Ohh, romance," you whistle through pursed lips, throwing him a coy smile.

He nods towards the buckle by your seat and tells you to do the belt up, as his key turns in the ignition. There's a small rumble, his exhaust rattling as fumes begin to bluster around the end of the pipe. He's listening again, revving the engine ever so gently, foot on the throttle.

The way he cares for his motor makes you laugh. He's so temperate, so careful - but you know he abuses the engine like no tomorrow whenever he races it. He treats it almost as if it's a racehorse; something with actual feelings.

You do as you're told, clicking the belt into place, and remind him to do the same.

"The girls?" You question as he passes you the aux. "Multiple?"

There's a static click as you plug it into your phone, before your playlist starts up again. His hands move like machines, smooth and automatic as he slips into first gear.

"The girls," he echoes, eyes flicking up to the rear-view mirror, and then over his shoulder to check the blind spots, before easing onto the main road.

"Charming," you say dryly.

It's not like you hadn't assumed this already. You had already decided that he at least had a friend with benefits lurking about (even if she had become too clingy (actually, no, especially if she had become too clingy)).

You'd figured that it was where he had been on the night that he was a no show - but then he'd shown up all apologetic and shit. You had let his innocent eyes win your skeptical mind over.

"Guys aren't really my thing," he follows up, sensing your discomfort. He knows he's beating around the bush, not giving you the answer that you want - and he also knows that you're getting in your head about it. Knows you'll be questioning what he means, and if he's sleeping with anyone else. He'd be within his right to. You barely know each other. Where he sticks his dick isn't really any of your business. "And I'm hardly a virgin, am I?"

"Gasp," you say. "You're not?! Could have fooled me."

He's smiling again.

You like how much he does that around you. Wonder if he's like that around other girls, too.

"Was I really that bad?" He flirts.

Jungkook knows how to fuck. He's been given enough positive reviews to know that he's anything but bad. Although... he kinda is. But in a good way. In the way that you want him to be bad.

"I've had better."

Liar.

"Ouch," he laughs as he presses down on his indicator for the next left. "Guess I'll just have to keep practising."

City lights cascade over the pair of you as his car rolls through the quiet streets, splintering like refractions of a mirror ball. He hates that he has to keep his eyes on the road. Wants to drink in the way you look almost as much as he wants to drink up the way you taste again. The night is dark, the moon hiding behind a fluffy cloud that looks like charcoal cotton candy beneath its radiant light. Jungkook loves nights like these; likes them even better with you in his passenger seat.

Green flashes over your features as he passes beneath a traffic light. You cross your legs, adjusting your posture. It's so subtle that you don't even realise you're doing it - but Jungkook does.

"On your other girls?"

There she is, he thinks. It's what he's been waiting for. Confirmation that the idea of him fucking other girls irritates you. He reaches across and taps your knee. He enjoys the predictability of you.

You resist the gentle nudge of his hand, the pads of his thumb and fingers resting on your kneecap. Your legs remain crossed, just as his hand remains on your knee. The stretch of road you're on is straight, requiring no gear change for a little while. He can play this game, if you really want him to.

"No," he says. There's pressure beneath his fingertips now. "Be a waste of time, wouldn't it? Everyone's different. If I wanna get better at fucking you, specifically, then I gotta keep fucking you."

He's not wrong. You can't fault his logic, and in all honesty, the way he's talking is so abrasive, so raw, that it's got you feeling all hot and bothered again. He may as well be stroking your pussy, not your knee, with the impact he's having on you.

His grip tightens, then pulls your knee back over. Commanding, not requesting. Your legs part for him, because of course they do. There's something about knowing he has options, knowing that he could be with someone else, but is choosing to be with you that gives you a little ego boost.

"Maybe I've changed my mind," you feign indifference, but Jungkook knows there's a handful of feelings beneath your words. "Maybe I don't wanna fuck you anymore."

He strokes his broad palm along the inside of your thigh. It's warm, wrapped in the sheer nylon cover of tights, and he'd obsessed with the way they feel. So smooth, so soft, so perfectly pristine. He wonders if you're making a mess of them. Hopes you are.

"I don't like maybes," he says. "Either you wanna fuck me or you don't."

"I don't like fucking boys who fuck other girls."

"Who said I was fucking other girls?" he smirks, and lets his hand trail a little further up. He squeezes the flesh of your thigh, getting a feel for you.

"You did."

"No," he corrects. "I said I've fucked other girls. Past tense. Never said I'm currently fucking other girls. You really gotta stop making assumptions, little Miss Clutch Control."

"I hate you," you say with a smile, and you really do mean it.

"I like girls who hate me. Makes the sex so much hotter."

"Despise you."

"Ugh," he grins, as he lets his hand reach the top of your thigh. He squeezes again, and you hum a little moan for him. "Doesn't sound like you hate me."

You giggle, soft and serene in the safety of his car. Reaching a junction, he pulls his hand back to change gear. You're at a four-way intersection, the light only just hitting amber, so he reckons he has a least a couple of minutes to toy with you.

When his hand returns to your thigh, just like you hoped it would, it's beneath your skirt. Right at the top. Right where it belongs. The pressure beneath his palm is firm, fingers sinking into the softness of your leg.

"But I do," you say, voice quiet, anticipation lacing your breath.

His pinky finger stretches out a little, just to stoke over the mound that rests between your legs. He can already feel the heat, but what surprises him - and excites him - is the slick that's seeped through your panties and onto the outer side of your tights.

"Doesn't feel like you hate me, either."

"No?" You toy. "Feel again."

And so he does. He points his index and middle finger, and holds them flat against you. They're instantly met with a slippery mess. He slides them up and down, once, twice, three times, and then cups your pussy with his palm. You're fucking pulsing in his touch.

"See?" You speak as if you don't wanna whine his name. "Loathe you."

"So you do," he mumbles as he presses his palm tight against you, inhaling sharply as he does so. One glance at his lap and you can tell he's just as turned on as you are. His cock is solid beneath his trousers, jeans tight, keeping him concealed. Part of you feels a little bad. Looks painful. He's too big to be confined by such unforgiving material.

"Still wanna skip the sex?"

Jungkook presses in index finger against where he can feel your entrance is. You're so wet that his fingers are already coated in everything that you are. He wants more. Wants your tights gone. Wants his fingers inside you.

But he's a stubborn asshole, and hates being proven wrong.

"Sex?" he pulls his fingers back, and rests the heel of his palm on the top of his steering wheel. They're covered in your juices. He considers licking them clean, but figures that might be a bit too brash - and then thinks fuck it, and does it anyway. There's a sweetness to your taste, one that has him holding back a moan. Absolutely fucking divine. You don't even realise that you're staring at his hands - the way they sink into his mouth - until he pulls them back out. He looks at you. Shrugs. "Yeah. Not really in the mood."

"Thank god," you say, not skipping a beat. Even when your need to fuck him is so intense that it manifests into a physical form and leaks onto his passenger seat, you're still able to bicker with him. It satisfies him like nothing else. Makes his cock so hard. "Me either."

The light turns to green, his hand is back on his gear stick. You stick to looking out the window, not favouring looking at him. The temptation to palm his crotch is overwhelming, but you're just as stubborn as he is. If you've said you don't wanna fuck, then you're damn well gonna act like you don't wanna fuck, until you simply can't take it anymore.

"Glad we agree," he says. "So let's talk."

You half wonder if this was his plan all along. You actually do think you hate him - but only cause he makes you feel weak. You don't enjoy that feeling, but you enjoy him.

"I'm an open book," you lie.

He flicks his eyes to the rearview and mutters under his breath, "shit."

"What is it?" you glance over your shoulder, noticing a pair of headlights flashing Jungkook. You can't make the car out. Its lamps are on full-beam. Blinding.

Jungkook leans over, the fingers that had been stroking against your pussy now pressing down into your buckle. There's a click as it releases, before he moves down and pulls up on the lever by the front of your seat, dragging you forward.

"Get in the back," he says, as if he isn't still driving. You go to question him, but he cuts you off. "In the back. Now. Middle seat."

You stare for a second, until he glances over to you, jaw tense, with no hint of a smile. "Don't argue with me, now. Middle seat. C'mon."

"Kook-"

"Now."

And as unsafe as it feels, you find yourself twisting, hands gripping onto the back of the passenger seat as you bring your legs up to crouch.

"Quickly, babe," he says, his hand reaching over to tap your ass gently. Your back is to the windshield, and Jungkook's terrified that the fucker behind him isn't gonna wait for a respectable start - but he's also anxiously aware of the fact he isn't explaining himself to you, and that it's gonna make you hesitant. "Please. Trust me."

And so you do. You wobble a little as your leg dips over the centre console, his hand still on your ass to keep you stable.

"That's it," he encourages. You make your way into the back, a little squeal as you leap soundtracking the move. "Seat belt. Now."

The leather of the backseat is cold against your tight-covered thighs, legs pressed together, feet firmly on the raised centre of the footwell. You do as you're told, all rather quickly.

"Hands on the seats," he tells you again, and you don't question it, even though it's all that you want to do. There's a time and a place for bickering with him, and while it's the perfect place, the urgency of his commands suggest that now isn't the right time. You grip onto the seats in front of you, and Jungkook reaches up to feel your hand, just to make sure it's where he wants it. His hand is clammy and warm, safe against yours. He lingers for a second, not wanting to lose the way your feel against his skin. "Hold tight."

He slows to a near stop, and you almost laugh when you realise where you are. That fucking bridge, again. The car behind you pulls up beside him, but it's hard to make it out through his back windows. They're so intensely tinted that all you can figure out is the rough shape. "Is that-"

"Yep," he cuts you off, knowing what you'll ask. "Car from the last time. It's cool. I got this. I will warn you, though, he's a little pissed with me at the moment."

"A little?"

You can hear the engine revving. Sounds more than just a little pissed.

"We're friends. It's okay."

Friends is a loose description. It would have been the right term, once. Jungkook thinks of him more as a colleague these days. A pain in his ass.

"Doesn't sound very friendly."

"I'ma need you to be quiet, babe," he says, voice soft. He isn't trying to be rude, he just needs to concentrate. Needs to win this. Needs to get Namjoon off his back. Needs to get you away from, well, here.

"Noted."

Jungkook watches the lights. It's how races like these work; the impromptu kind that first got him acquainted with Namjoon. They wait for the lights to shift, throttle teasing on amber, rubber-burning on green.

His gaze is on the lights and the lights only. The leather binding of his wheel almost squeaks as he grips against it, shoulders rolling back ever so slightly. Glancing over to the black SsangYong, he nods, and then his eyes are back on the lights. The lack of a flagger has never bothered them. In fact, Jungkook prefers racing without one. Fewer variables. Less chance of things going wrong. He knows the time of the lights. Trusts them. Trusts his muscle memory to do the hard work for him.

You can feel that chime in your stomach again - but it's different this time. It's a warning bell. The kind that tells you to get out of the situation you're in. Fat fucking chance.

There's a purr as the lights flicker into amber, Jungkook's rev count building. The sound of the SsangYong rips through the windows, letting you know just how powerful it is. Ain't no way Jungkook's fucking Pony is beating it. His grip adjusts, foot sinking further down onto his throttle. He builds it, 2, 3, 4 - and then the light is green.

The way Jungkook moves is as if he's at one with his car.

His movements are slick, well-oiled.

There's no hesitation, just an innate understanding of what needs to be done. His car tears from the starting line, and you forget all about the SsangYong he's racing.

It's hard to think about anything at all, in all honesty. Hard to comprehend the speed he's built so quickly; the control he has. There's a rush pulsing through you that you haven't felt since, well, ever. You don't enjoy racing, not really. You hate it whenever Yoongi rags his car about, but you trust him.

And you find yourself trusting Jungkook, too.

Maybe it's because you've already seen him tame his car when it's been out of control, or maybe it's because you've already trusted him with your body, so what difference does your life make?

His tyres are almost silent, moving at such a pace that there's no chance for anything to reverb. He grunts a little, pushing the car up to fifth, building, building and then -

"Corner," he braces you.

You're pretty certain you're going to throw up.

It's a route that Jungkook knows well, just a short circuit, over the bridge, sharp left out along the riverside road until they reach Kang's. Same every time. Hasn't yet thought about what he's gonna do when he gets there. Just knows he has to get there first to buy himself a little time.

He knocks the car into neutral, clutch down, brakes too, and then he's turning the wheel just a little. Not too sharp. Doesn't wanna oversteer. He coasts it round the bend, knowing better than to be in neutral, but he isn't thinking about that right now. He's thinking about the fact that Namjoon's car is fucking faster, and he needs every gain he can get.

Your hands grip into the padding of his seats, desperately trying to stop yourself from toppling over. Elbows locked, it's hard to determine the sheer amount of force you're putting behind your bones.

There's a screech as the tyres burn against the road, no doubt leaving thick black streaks on the tarmac. You're so used to seeing them on your way to work that you never really consider how they get there. Now you know.

He pummels the car forward, knocking it back into third, and then up into fourth. It's a miscalculation. Should have jumped right up into fifth - but he can lament that later.

He corrects his mistake. Strikes it into fifth. Namjoon is trailing. Jungkook has got this.

Eyes hard against the horizon line, Jungkook has no time to think. He flicks his eyes up to the rearview, catching sight of the SsangYong's bonnet. He's miles ahead.

Well, no. Not even a metre - but it may as well be miles. He just needs to keep up this pace.

Foot to the floor, he's tanking it. The shops you dart past become a blur of neon lights, nothing for your eyes to absorb other than the chaos of light beneath a dark sky. In the distance, you see Kang's.

"Shit," he hisses as the light at the intersection ahead begins to flash amber.

"Hold on," he says, as if you've even thought about letting go. Hands clammy from nerves, you adjust your grip. Tighter. So tight, your nails will leave prints in his leather.

He pushes further, further, further, but the lights are flashing quicker, quicker, quicker. "C'mon, beauty. C'mon."

He hits the junction line.

The lights are still amber.

And then he switches from gas to clutch. Easy does it.

Jungkook pulls the handbrake up. Clicks it into place. Pulls the car round with a single hand on his steering wheel.

He has full control over the vehicle as it roars into position right in the middle of the cross-section.

There's a blaring horn sounding behind you - but it's not directed at the Pony.

It's directed at the SsangYong, which has screeched to a halt. The oncoming traffic has been set free, lights fully changed. Jungkook made it just in time.

"He's stuck," you tell Jungkook, head over your shoulder, making sure that the SsangYong hasn't moved. "Can't get past the traffic. You're good."

You expect Jungkook to ease off the throttle, but he doesn't. He takes a sharp right instead, and begins to tunnel down back allies. Right, then left. Then left again, and another right. Takes so many rogue turns that you don't even know which direction you're facing in by the time he comes to a stop. It's been nearly five minutes since you lost the SsangYong - and yet he just won't ease off the gas. Not until he's certain Namjoon isn't lurking in the shadows of his exhaust fumes.

By the time he does eventually stop, his chest is heaving. Breathless.

You're down a back alley, across the other side of town. You don't recognise it.

Pressing down into the buckle, you undo your belt and clamber forward into the passenger seat again, feet up, body facing towards him.

He doesn't look at you for a while. Just stares ahead. Inhale, exhale. You can see his jugular vein beating.

"Hey," you reach out to his wrist, and stroke on his arm gently. He doesn't respond instantly. Just lets his eyes close. It's nice, the way you're so gentle with him, he thinks. So nice. So soothing.

And then his body acts before his mind does. He pulls on your wrist, grip firm, as his other hand pushes down the lever by the front of his seat. Weight on his feet, he pushes himself back, making space for you in his lap.

The way you clamber over the centre console is less than elegant, but he doesn't care. Just needs you on his thighs. Needs to suffocate in the scent of your gasoline tainted hair, and taste the sweetness of your tongue in his mouth. Needs to remember everything that you are, so he can forget who he is.

His hungry lips find yours, a hand in your hair, the other on your cheek.

There's really not enough room, your legs straddled over his, trapped by the door on one side, the gear stick on the other. It's tight and claustrophobic, but he likes it. Likes how ensnared he is by you. Wants to be even more trapped.

He licks against your lips and begs for permission to enter - as if you'd ever refuse. His tongue strokes against yours, the studs you'd (somehow) forgotten about making you whimper. He's rough and aggressive with his kisses, the adrenaline manifesting itself in the form of intimacy.

"I lied," he says breathlessly. "About the sex. I want it. Let me fuck you."

He wants to lose himself in you. Needs to.

"Backseat?" you moan into his lips as he begins to encourage the movement of your hips against his painfully hard crotch.

"Backseat."

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

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